The Violin

Allusion has been made, at the commencement of this chapter, to the very large amount of time which the Professor must devote to his art, as one of the absolute conditions of eminence. The ends of the Amateur may, of course, be answered with a smaller expenditure of his moments. If he possess the requisite predisposition for the instrument, two hours a day will suffice him. This must be regarded as the minimum– and with this, according to Spohr (a very high authority), he may make such progress as to afford himself and others great enjoyment of music, in quartett-playing, in accompanying the pianoforte, or in the orchestra.

The principal error against which Amateurs have to guard themselves, is that species of ambition which impels them to imitate the showy and more external quality of professional playing, called execution64. It is natural enough that what is most obvious should make the greatest impression at first, and should most readily attract imitation; but it is, on the other hand, certain, that this same superficial principle addresses itself rather to the senses than to the imagination, and that the pleasure which it affords is trivial and evanescent. If execution do not come recommended by the superior associations of accurate tune, fine tone, and characteristic expression, it is unworthy of a welcome, and can only impose on the most shallow-minded auditor. In that poor and bald state, it is like the verbiage in a silly oral discourse, or the language of un-respective parrots. If it come, moreover, unaccompanied by the common regulator, time, it is still more absurd and insignificant, and may be likened to a fit of the insanely capricious activity called St. Vitus’s dance. Nothing, in fact, can make amends for the grievous sin of

“Omitting the sweet benefit of time.”

It should never be forgotten that, in the playing of the most simple piece of music – the commonest air – there is much more required than merely to render, or deliver, the notes that are dotted over the page. It too often occurs, however, that the Amateur, who chances to have heard at some Concert a fantasia or a potpourri, performed by the agile bow of a De Beriot or a Sainton, returns home fascinated exclusively by the brilliant execution he has witnessed, and stimulated by vague aspirations after similar power of display. He calls next day at a Music-shop, and just “happens to enquire” whether the said piece is in print. It is handed to him, and he finds, to his agreeable surprise, that the passages, with a few exceptions, do not look so difficult as their dashing effect the evening before would have led him to anticipate. He buys the piece, and, with uncased fiddle, sits down before it, in his own chamber. He picks out the passages with which he is best able to tickle his own ear; hammers them over till his hand gets some familiarity with them; hurries the time, to encourage his mind in the favourite idea of “execution;” slurs over those passages that threaten to puzzle him; and, having got through the thing à tort et à travers, hastens to shew his friends what he can do (in reality what he can not do) as a performer of De Beriot’s celebrated fantasia! A little applause, from the over-complaisant or unthinking, deludes him, already too confident, into the belief that he has succeeded in that piece; and the same ambition of display, coupled with the eager and unrepressed love of novelty, leads him on to attempt another, and another, and to spoil himself with more triumphs of the same unfortunate and mistaken kind. Thus, everything is done most imperfectly – no satisfaction is given to a single soul of the commonest musical notions – and no real progress whatever is made. In short, when once the unhappy Amateur abandons himself exclusively to execution– it is all over with him!

It is impossible to build without the frequent use of the ladder. The scales are the ladders of music; and, without constant and diligent recourse to them, there is no true edification – no reaching to “perfection’s airiest ridge.” Slowly and cautiously must they be ascended and descended, at first, till the acquisition of a firm hold, and a nice habit of measurement; then comes the dexterity that enables the practitioner to run up and down with a safe celerity of precision, such as the curious beholder may witness in the movements of those Hibernian hod-iernal ministrants of mortar, who are so powerfully instrumental towards the construction of houses.

Let not the young Amateur, then, be diverted from the practice of his scales, which are the regular steps to improvement. Let him not commit the error of jumping about among those broken and irregular flights, consisting of bits of airs, and snatches of tunes. These will not help to raise the musical edifice; and the expectations which they may assist to build, will prove mere castles in the air. The dryness and sameness of the labour are apt to be alleged as the excuse for omitting this essential practice of the scales and intervals; while the love of melody is pleaded in behalf of the more eccentric course. Now, what should be desiderated for the student is, not to love melody less, but improvement more. He should not, by reason of the tedium experienced in working at the scales, cast them aside – for, while he perseveres, on the contrary, in daily exercise upon them, are there not the immortal Solos of Corelli, to furnish him with all that is needful of the recreative principle? Here he will find refresh ment enough, after the perhaps fatiguing iteration of the ladder-work. Here, in connexion with passages that will form his hand – here, along with modulation not dull and crabbed, but graceful and natural – he will find enough of melody to sweeten his toil, without impairing it – to cheer his progress, without retarding it. Here he will find fascination for his ear, with no corruption for his taste —

“Airs and sweet sounds, that give delight, and hurt not.”

Yes, when the tyro, tired, makes yawning complaint of the want of encouragement, we would point to the Solos of Corelli, and say to him, Hæc tibi dulcia sunto– let these be unto thee for sweet-meats.

This distinction, however, should be noted that while Corelli is recommended for the acquisition of tone and steadiness, he is not a sufficient authority as to the varieties and subtleties of bowing; for (as heretofore observed) much that relates to these has been added since his time to the province of the violin. But the cultivation of these graces and refinements of the bow is, after all, in its natural order, a thing for later attention. The simplicity of Corelli is always admirable for the earlier purposes; and then, for the niceties of the bow, and for the communication of modern resources, there are various special guides of good value – as the studies of Fiorillo – the elaborate, systematic, and explanatory “Violin-School” of Spohr, as edited for English students by Mr. John Bishop – and that justly-cited boast of the French Conservatoire, the combined system of Rode, Kreutzer, and Baillot65.

Among the consequences of that ambition of display which I have had occasion to refer to as a root of evil among Amateurs, is the tendency to throw off prematurely the salutary restraints of professional aid. This is a mistake of the most injurious kind. The violin, as the most difficult of all instruments, demands more than any other the prolonged assistance of the Master. There is no such being to be met with as a real self-taught Violinist. Scrapers and raspers there may be, of various degrees of roughness and wretchedness, who have found out the art of tormenting, by themselves; but that is quite another matter. Paganini himself, the most wild and singular of players, did not acquire his excellence independently of magisterial rule. He was amply tutored during the early years of his study; and, when he had become a great Master, he still proceeded by calculations founded partly on what he had already been taught, though transcending it in reach and refinement. Let not the aspiring student, therefore, seek to fly before he can run, and reject the preceptor while his state is essentially that of pupilage. They who, at a very early period, discontinuing the study of the instrument, think of playing to amuse their friends, will fail inevitably, and be considered as the very reverse of what is agreeable or, to present the same notable truth at the point of an indifferent epigram:

Beginners, lab’ring at the fiddle,Are apt to flounder in the middle:Such, when our comfort they diminish,Are wisely prayed to make a finish!

With reference to the collective efforts of non-professional players, it may be remarked that, as individual vanity is there held in some check, and as something like a painstaking preparation is customary, the auditor is in a less hazardous condition than where one exhibitor has undisputed hold upon him, – besides which, the alternative of an escape is more decidedly open. The single cacophonist, secretly intending a “polacca,” may take you at unawares, after a quiet cup of tea, that has treacherously served to mask his purpose. He may suddenly draw his lurking fiddle-case from beneath the very sofa whereon you are at ease – may summon that passive accomplice, his sister, to subservient office at the piano – and, putting his bow-arm into full exercise, bring you to “agony-point,” before you have had time to recover from your surprise. From the quartett or symphony-party, on the contrary, you have due notice beforehand and, if suspicious of discords that are not within the boundary of science, you can decline the invitation, and maintain the tranquillity of your nerves.

The most desirable attainment for confederate Amateurs, next to a familiar acquaintance with their respective instruments, is that self-knowledge which enables each to find contentedly his proper place, and ensures that all shall be “correspondent to command, and do their spiriting gently.” Then, by good discipline, under the direction of a well-educated musician, whose practical knowledge, added to his intimacy with the compositions of the best masters, gives him a moral influence and authority over an organized body of Amateurs, it is surprising what excellence of effect in musical execution may be produced. It has been sometimes, however, the bane of Amateur Societies to be subject to the control of some unwarrantably officious member, whose musical qualifications in nowise render him a proper person for the assumed dictatorial capacity: or, it may happen that accident brings into the employ of a Society of Amateurs one of those mere practical and executive professional Fiddlers, whose notions of art are only on a level with the quality of their manners. In either case, little benefit, and much less pleasure, is derived from submitting to such directorship. The Amateur, and the Fiddler, will each exercise alike his own weak judgment in the general appeal for the “time” of the music – each (the composer being least thought of) preferring the time of an allegro in the ratio of its adaptation to his own powers of execution. Of the two, the Professor is the more mischievous, as regards the production of bad consequences. Vain of his advantage over the Amateur, he never neglects to shew it by the rapidity with which he will time the quick movements; creating thereby a bad habit in the Amateur, who, to keep up with the first-fiddle, is obliged so to scramble through his part, as if it were the purpose of the composer to represent a race. A musician with a cultivated mind, on the contrary, whose enthusiasm for art renders “self” a secondary consideration, and whose perseverance has enabled him really to conquer the difficulties of his calling, is sure to effect very great good amongst private Amateurs. His remarks on the merits of composers and players are listened to with attention; his authority is respected; and the encouragement he patiently bestows on the ingenuous efforts of the young player, is sure to obtain the utmost confidence of the party.

In the practice of instrumental music, the chief obstacles (besides the difficulty of playing passages in tune and time) are those which attach to reading, and to feeling the rhythm of the phrase, as well as to the executing of passages without hurry. Young novices, adults, and bands, are in one common predicament, as to partaking, more or less, of a certain two-fold error – that of producing a disproportionate acceleration of time in a quick and loud passage, and a disproportionate delay in a slow and piano movement. By the advantage of the skilful tact of a clever maestro, this error is either altogether corrected, or the tendency is so well kept in check as never to become offensive. In order to conquer the naturally strong influence of rhythmetical impulse in playing, the Amateur should seek every occasion to play with others in concert. The excitement in first playing with other instruments is similar, in its origin, to that of which we have everyday proof in the case of young ladies, who have devoted years of practice to playing the pianoforte, and are yet unable to accompany a song, or solo, in time and with proper feeling – the too common consequence, by the by, of an English musical education. In Germany and France, every lady takes alternate lessons, of her pianoforte master, and of an experienced and well-educated musician, employed in the best orchestras; and thus she imperceptibly loses those impediments which are the consequences of nervous and timid inexperience.

One of the chief advantages of the Professor is his capacity of reading onwards. Whilst occupied in executing one bar, his eyes and attention are partly bestowed on the three or four subsequent ones – nay, on the next line, and even the next page. All this is best acquired by perusing music, without an instrument. By practice, the eye and mind seize at once the construction of a simple phrase, so that, whilst the operation of playing it is going on, you have time to prepare for the fingering and execution of the following passage, without at once bursting on it, and becoming confused. In overtures and sinfonias, the time of the several movements is seldom subject to alteration; and, beyond the mere reading of the passages, the Amateur has only to attend to the various signs used for the modification of sound.

The highest test of the discipline of a band is in playing “piano,” and in attacking points of imitation and fugue with vigour. Whatever constitutes the test of the excellence of a band, in execution and effect, applies also to the individual performers. – The coarse, vulgar, pantomime fiddler would make sad havoc in accompanying a trio of Beethoven’s, where the most delicately subdued tone, and the most vigorous expression, are alternately required. It must never be forgotten, that the utmost strictness of subordination is an essential requisite in an orchestra. In fact, it is one of the principal merits of a good orchestra-player to practise uniformly this quality of subordination, whereby the perfection of the whole is importantly promoted.

Dramatic music is the most difficult to give effect to; whether it be orchestral, for the action of a ballet, or as an accompaniment to the voice – the license shewn in the numerous changes of a movement, and of time, rendering this species of music by far the most embarrassing to both Professor and Amateur. The attention of the performer must here be divided between his instrument, and the singer, or the director; whilst, in other music, his whole soul is wrapt up in his own performance. Hence it follows that, on his first attempt to play opera-music, he is embarrassed at every page! This difficulty is only conquered, like every other, by habitual practice.

In the more advanced stage of his progress, there is nothing so beneficial to the Amateur as to listen, “arrectis auribus,” to the performance of genuine classical quartetts by accomplished masters of the bow. This will do him far more good than all the Capriccios and Fantasias with which the most brilliant of the solo-players, or single-handed exhibitors at concerts, can dazzle his discernment. It will exalt his standard of taste, and enlarge his sense of the beautiful – fully directing his perception, at the same time, to the legitimate powers of the violin and its cognate instruments. The remark has been well made by Spohr, that perfect quartett-playing, while it requires perhaps less of mechanical skill than is called for in a concerto, yet demands more of refined sentiment, taste, and knowledge. No opportunity (adds the same great Master) of joining a good quartett-party, ought to be lost. The occasions afforded for such mode of improvement were for a long while, however, in our English metropolis, as rare as they might have been advantageous. The experiments of the London Concerti da Camera, and “Quartett Concerts,” happily occurred, at length, to test the feeling of our musical circles, and open a new path to the career of the art in this country. Following that new path, and developing further resources to which it led, the “Beethoven Quartett Society,” originated and managed by a Committee of enlightened Amateurs, with the Earl of Falmouth for their President, came into honourable existence in 1845, to render the justice of a too tardy notoriety to some of the most perfect and original of musical compositions, and thereby to erect a higher standard of taste for the benefit of our musical circles. The intentions of this most laudable Association, practically wrought out by Professors of the first ability, have had some, at least, of the success that should belong to well-directed ambition66.

With the stimulus and the enlightenment that may be derived from such a school of observation as this, and others to the establishment of which it may possibly lead, is it a thing to be altogether despaired of, that we may hereafter be enabled to enjoy the rational luxury, here as in Germany, of a quartett performed within the evening family circle, and competently performed, by its own members? Already, indeed, in some of our provincial towns, there have been examples of a disposition this way67. It is to be hoped that our

London Amateurs will no longer be slow to adopt so laudable a practice, nor be deterred from the pleasant advantages of family fiddling by any poor jokes about “the brothers Bohrer,” or the like. That there is good capacity in them, which occasion may bring out, was made evident at the Musical Festival held at Exeter Hall, towards the end of 1834, as well as at more recent celebrations there. A somewhat large amount of single practice, and more working by fours, together with such exercise of observation as has been here alluded to, would develop their capabilities into real means of conferring pleasure upon their friends – whether in the snug and smiling little domestic circle, or in the wider area, and amid the more stimulative accessories, of the hired music-room.

There is a little story, illustrating so pointedly that love for his peculiar pursuit, which gives to the Amateur his very name, that I cannot resist the temptation to introduce it here. With that little story – and a few special hints to the younger and earlier class of students, conveyed in familiar verse, by way of a spur to the attention – I propose to wind up the present chapter.

A certain Amateur, whose fondness for fiddling was his liveliest passion, had two instruments – his best, on which he would by no means have permitted his own father to draw a bow – and his second best. In the course of his business, which was commercial, he was preparing to quit England for South America, as super-cargo in a certain vessel, and to make a long stay in the latter country. Concern for his two violins – (he had no wife) – was uppermost in his mind. Should he commit them, along with himself, to the perils of the ocean’s bosom? Should he, suspending or sacrificing his own enjoyment, leave them behind, in the custody of friendship that might prove fickle, or negligent? Much he pondered – and much hesitated. At length, unable to endure the thoughts of a separation from both, he came to a resolution that was, at the same time, a compromise. He determined that he would take with him his second best, and tear himself away from his principal darling, his beloved best—not, however, to leave it behind —that were quite too much! – but to export it, highly insured, to the scene of his own destination, in another (because, as he conceived it, a safer) vessel than that in which he was himself about to embark!

FRIENDLY ADVICE TO THE YOUNG AMATEURFirst, let a rear-ward attic of your labours be the scene —For, such seclusion best for you (and others) is, I ween.In comfort, there, assume a chair, and be therein at ease,And not as if, un-garmented, you sat upon hard pease.Your fiddle in sinister hand, and in your right the bow,Scan, next, the dotted page awhile, or ere to work you go.Firm as a forceps be your wrist, but flexile as an eel!And – for that struggling shoulder-joint – just teach it to be still;For, mark! the motion of the arm must be ’twixt wrist and elbow,Or else, howe’er you moil and toil, be sure you’ll never well bow!To guide each movement of the bow – to give it vital spring —To send it bounding on its way – the wrist, the wrist’s the thing!Your bow’s relation to the bridge, must keep a just right angle,Or harshly else, and out of tune, your tortured notes will jangle.From heel to point that bow now draw, with action slow and steady —Then back again – and so repeat, till in such practice ready.The same in quicker time then try – and next proceed to drawFrom middle (with a shorter scope) to point, and back, see-saw.This, too, in swifter time rehearse; – and then, like justice dealUnto the other half of bow, from middle to the heel.There is a word – too seldom heard —not dear to young Ambition —But wholesome in its discipline, – that word is “repetition.”Content to glimmer ere you shine, leap not beyond your bounds!From small beginnings rise great ends – ’tis pence that make up pounds.From exercise to exercise, progressive, through your bookWork on-scales, intervals, and all – how dry soe’er they look;Nor jerk forth scraps, or odds and ends, of ev’ry tune that floats; —Can any foolery be worse than scatt’ring of loose notes?Let not thy steps untutored move! A master’s ready skillFor safety and for succour seek, to curb or point thy will!Plain work precedes all ornament: keep graces for a lateAchievement, since you first must build, ere you can decorate.Think elegance a pretty thing, but breadth a vast deal better;Nor, for the sake of lesser charms, your larger movements fetter.It is the pride of players great, a free and dashing bow,As, borne along on waves of sound, to their success they go!Corelli old, contemn thou not! Substantial, good, and plain,He’s like a round of British beef – he’s “cut-and-come-again!”But, as the interval is wide, you need not —nota bene—You need not travel all the road ’twixt him and Paganini.In fiddle-practice, as in life, are difficulties gifts?Yes —double stops are just the thing to drive thee to thy shifts!“Bating no jot of heart or hope,” toil, till, in time’s process,The music that is in thy soul, thy fiddle shall express!

CHAPTER IX

ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE VIOLIN

It is a very natural curiosity which engages us to look minutely into the structural peculiarities of that which is a medium for awakening pleasurable sensations within us. The balloon that has borne us aloft into aerial altitudes – and the violin that, under the management of a Vieuxtemps or a Sivori, has transported us, through varying acoustic currents, into the sublimer regions of harmony – are, each, the object of a close and willingly conceded attention.