PERSONAL TRAITS NECESSARY IN CONDUCTING
[Sidenote: IMPORTANCE OF PERSONALITY]
In the introductory chapter it was noted that the conductor must build
upon a foundation of musical scholarship if he is to be really
successful; that he must possess musical feeling; and that he must go
through extensive musical training, if he is to conduct with taste and
authority. But in addition to these purely _musical_ requirements,
experience and observation have demonstrated that the would-be
conductor must be possessed of certain definitely established personal
characteristics, and that many a musician who has been amply able to
pass muster from a musical standpoint, has failed as a conductor
because he lacked these other traits.
It is not my purpose to give at this point an exhaustive list of
qualities that must form the personal equipment of the conductor. In
general it will be sufficient to state that he must possess in a fair
degree those personal traits that are advantageous in any profession.
But of these desirable qualities three or four seem to be so
indispensable that it has been thought best to devote a brief chapter
to a discussion of them. These qualities are:
1. A sense of humor.
2. A creative imagination.
3. A sense of leadership combined with organizing ability.
[Sidenote: A SENSE OF HUMOR]
The first of these traits, a sense of humor, may perhaps upon first
thought seem a peculiar quality to include in a category of virtues
for the professional man of any type, and especially for the musician.
But upon reflection it will be admitted that the ability to see
things in a humorous light (which very frequently means merely seeing
them in true perspective) has helped many a man to avoid wasting
nervous energy upon insignificant occurrences, while the lack of this
ability has caused more trouble among all sorts of people (and
particularly, it seems to me, among musicians) than any other single
thing.
[Sidenote: ILLUSTRATIONS OF HUMOR IN THE REHEARSAL]
Some player or singer is either over-arduous or a bit sleepy during
the first stages of rehearsing a new composition, and makes a wrong
entrance, perhaps during a pause just before the climacteric point.
The occurrence is really funny and the other performers are inclined
to smile or snicker, but our serious conductor quells the outbreak
with a scowl. The humorous leader, on the other hand, sees the
occurrence as the performers do, joins in the laugh that is raised at
the expense of the offender, and the rehearsal goes on with renewed
spirit.
An instrumental performer makes a bad tone, and the conductor laughs
at him, saying it sounds like a wolf howling or an ass braying. If the
remark is accompanied by a smile, the performer straightens up and
tries to overcome the fault; but if the comment is made with a snarl
there is a tightening up of muscles, an increased tension of the
nerves, and the performer is more than likely to do worse the next
time.
There is a difference of opinion between the conductor and some
performer about fingering or bowing, phrasing or interpretation, and a
quarrel seems imminent; but the conductor refuses to take the matter
too seriously, and, having ample authority for his own viewpoint,
proceeds as he has begun, later on talking it over with the performer,
and perhaps giving him a reason for his opinion.
Humor is thus seen to have the same effect upon a body of musicians as
oil applied to machinery, and musical machinery seems to need more of
this kind of lubrication than almost any other variety.
But the conductor must distinguish carefully between sarcastic wit,
which laughs _at_, and humor, which laughs _with_. In a book bearing
the copyright date of 1849, the writer distinguishes between the two,
in the following words:[1]
Humor originally meant moisture, a signification it
metaphorically retains, for it is the very juice of the
mind, enriching and fertilizing where it falls. Wit laughs
at; humor laughs with. Wit lashes external appearances, or
cunningly exchanges single foibles into character; humor
glides into the heart of its object, looks lovingly upon the
infirmities it attacks, and represents the whole man. Wit is
abrupt, scornful ...; humor is slow and shy, insinuating its
fun into your heart.
[Footnote 1: Whipple, _Literature and Life_, p. 91.]
[Sidenote: THE VALUE OF A CHEERFUL ATTITUDE]
The conductor with a sense of humor will ordinarily have the advantage
also of being cheerful in his attitude toward the performers, and this
is an asset of no mean significance. It is a well-known psychophysical
fact that the human body does much better work when the mind is free
from care, and that in any profession or vocation, other things being
equal, the worker who is cheerful and optimistic will perform his
labor much more efficiently at the expense of considerably less mental
and bodily energy than he who is ill-humored, worried, fretful, and
unable to take a joke. But the _foreman_ who possesses this quality of
cheerfulness and humor is doubly fortunate, for he not only secures
the beneficial results in his own case, but by his attitude frequently
arouses the same desirable state of mind and body in those who are
working under him. It is particularly because of this latter fact that
the conductor needs to cultivate a cheerful, even a humorous outlook,
especially in the rehearsal. As the result of forming this habit, he
will be enabled to give directions in such a way that they will be
obeyed cheerfully (and consequently more effectively); he will find it
possible to rehearse longer with less fatigue both to himself and to
his musical forces; and he will be able to digest his food and to
sleep soundly after the rehearsal because he is not worrying over
trivial annoyances that, after all, should have been dismissed with a
laugh as soon as they appeared. There must not of course be so much
levity that the effectiveness of the rehearsal will be endangered, but
there is not much likelihood that this will happen; whereas there
seems to be considerable danger that our rehearsals will become too
cold and formal. A writer on the psychology of laughter states that
"laughter is man's best friend";[2] and in another place (p. 342) says
that the smile always brings to the mind "relaxation from strain."
[Footnote 2: Sully, _An Essay on Laughter_.]
[Sidenote: THE VALUE OF IMAGINATION IN CONDUCTING]
Creative imagination is an inborn quality--"a gift of the gods"--and
if the individual does not possess it, very little can be done for him
in the artistic realm. Constructive or creative imagination implies
the ability to combine known elements in new ways--_to use the mind
forwards_, as it were. The possession of this trait makes it possible
to picture to oneself how things are going to look or sound or feel
before any actual sense experience has taken place; to see into
people's minds and often find out in advance how they are going to
react to a projected situation; to combine chemical elements in new
ways and thus create new substances; to plan details of organization
in a manufacturing establishment or in an educational institution, and
to be able to forecast how these things are going to work out.
It is this quality of creative imagination that enables the inventor
to project his mind into the future and see a continent spanned by
railways and telephones, and the barrier of an ocean broken down by
means of wireless and aeroplane; and in every case the inventor works
with old and well-known materials, being merely enabled by the power
of his creative faculties (as they are erroneously called) to combine
these known materials in new ways.
In the case of the musician, such creative imagination has always been
recognized as a _sine qua non_ of original composition, but its
necessity has not always been so clearly felt in the case of the
performer. Upon analyzing the situation it becomes evident, however,
that the performer cannot possibly get from the composer his real
message unless he can follow him in his imagination, and thus
re-create the work. As for adding anything original to what the
composer has given, this is plainly out of the question unless the
interpreter is endowed somewhat extensively with creative imagination;
and the possession of this quality will enable him to introduce such
subtle variations from a cut-and-dried, merely _accurate_ rendition as
will make his performance seem really spontaneous, and will inevitably
arouse a more enthusiastic emotional response in the listeners.
Weingartner sums up the value of imagination in the final paragraph of
one of the few really valuable books on conducting at our disposal.[3]
More and more I have come to think that what decides the
worth of conducting is the degree of suggestive power that
the conductor can exercise over the performers. At the
rehearsals he is mostly nothing more than a workman, who
schools the men under him so conscientiously and precisely
that each of them knows his place and what he has to do
there; he first becomes an artist when the moment comes for
the production of the work. Not even the most assiduous
rehearsing, so necessary a prerequisite as this is, can so
stimulate the capacities of the players as the force of
imagination of the conductor. It is not the transference of
his personal will, but the mysterious act of creation that
called the work itself into being takes place again in him,
and transcending the narrow limits of reproduction, he
becomes a new-creator, a self-creator.
[Footnote 3: Weingartner, _On Conducting_, translated by Ernest
Newman, p. 56.]
This quality is indispensable to all musicians, be they creators or
performers, but is especially desirable in the conductor, for he needs
it not only from the standpoint of interpretation, as already noted,
but from that of manager or organizer. Upon this latter point we shall
have more to say later, but it may be well to state just here that if
the conductor could imagine what was going on in the minds of his
players or singers, and could see things from their viewpoint; if he
could forecast the effect of his explanatory directions or of his
disciplinary rulings, nine-tenths of all the quarreling, bickering,
and general dissatisfaction that so frequently mar the work of any
musical organization could easily be eliminated. We might also add
that if the conductor could only foresee the effect upon his audiences
of certain works, or of certain interpretations, his plans would
probably often be materially altered.
[Sidenote: ORGANIZING ABILITY AND A SENSE OF LEADERSHIP]
But the conductor must be more than a humorous-minded and imaginative
musician. He must also (especially in these modern times) be an
organizer, a business man, a leader. The qualities of leadership and
organizing ability are so closely connected that we shall for the most
part treat them together in our discussion, and they are so important
that a fairly extensive analysis will be attempted.
In an article on Schumann in _Grove's Dictionary_ Dr. Philip Spitta,
the well-known historian and critic, comments upon the conducting of
this famous composer as follows:[4]
Schumann was sadly wanting in the real talent for
conducting. All who ever saw him conduct or played under his
direction are agreed on this point. Irrespective of the fact
that conducting for any length of time tired him out, he had
neither the collectedness and prompt presence of mind, nor
the sympathetic faculty, nor the enterprising dash, without
each of which conducting in the true sense is impossible.
He even found difficulty in starting at a given tempo; nay,
he even sometimes shrank from giving any initial beat, so
that some energetic pioneer would begin without waiting for
the signal, and without incurring Schumann's wrath! Besides
this, any thorough practice, bit by bit, with his orchestra,
with instructive remarks by the way as to the mode of
execution, was impossible to this great artist, who in this
respect was a striking contrast to Mendelssohn. He would
have a piece played through, and if it did not answer to his
wishes, have it repeated. If it went no better the second or
perhaps third time, he would be extremely angry at what he
considered the clumsiness, or even the ill-will of the
players; but detailed remarks he never made.
[Footnote 4: _Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians_, New Edition,
Vol. IV, p. 363.]
This estimate of Schumann's work as a conductor demonstrates
unmistakably that he failed in this particular field, not because his
musical scholarship was not adequate, but because he did not have that
peculiar ability which enables one man to dominate others: _viz._, _a
sense of leadership_, or _personal magnetism_, as it is often called.
Seidl asserts[5] that Berlioz, Massenet, and Saint-Saëns likewise
failed as conductors, in spite of recognized musicianship; and it is
of course well known that even Beethoven and Brahms could not conduct
their own works as well as some of their contemporaries whose names
are now almost forgotten.
[Footnote 5: Seidl, _The Music of the Modern World_, Vol. I, p. 106.]
The feeling that one has the power to cause others to do one's will
seems in most cases to be inborn, at least certain children display it
at a very early age; and it is usually the boys and girls who decide
on the playground what games shall be played next, or what mischief
shall now be entered upon, who later on become leaders in their
several fields of activity. And yet this sense of leadership, or
something closely approximating it, may also be acquired, at least to
a certain extent, by almost any one who makes a consistent and
intelligent attempt in this direction. It is this latter fact which
may encourage those of us who are not naturally as gifted along these
lines as we should like to be, and it is because of this possibility
of acquiring what in conducting amounts to an indispensable
qualification that an attempt is here made to analyze the thing called
leadership into its elements.
[Sidenote: THE FIRST ELEMENT IN LEADERSHIP]
The primary basis upon which a sense of leadership rests is
undoubtedly confidence in one's general ability and in one's knowledge
of the particular subject being handled. The leader must not only know
but must know that he knows. This makes quick judgments possible, and
the leader and organizer must always be capable of making such
judgments, and of doing it with finality. The baseball player must
decide instantly whether to throw the ball to "first," "second,"
"third," or "home," and he must repeatedly make such decisions
correctly before he can become a strong and respected baseball
captain. The same thing holds true of the foreman in a factory, and
both baseball captain and factory foreman must not only know every
detail of the work done under them, but must _know that they know it_,
and must feel confident of being able to cause those working under
them to carry it on as they conceive it. So the conductor must not
only know music, but must have confidence in his ear, in his rhythmic
precision, in his taste, in his judgment of tempo, in short, in his
musical scholarship; and he must not only feel that he knows exactly
what should be done in any given situation, but be confident that he
can make his chorus or orchestra do it as he wishes. Think for
instance of securing a firm attack on the first tone of such a song as
the _Marseillaise_. It is an extremely difficult thing to do, and it
would be utterly impossible to direct any one else exactly how to
accomplish it; and yet, if the conductor knows exactly how it must
sound, if he has an auditory image of it before the actual tones
begin, and if he feels that when he begins to beat time the chorus
will sing as he has heard them in imagination, then the expected
result is almost certain to follow. But if he is uncertain or
hesitant upon any of these points, he will as surely fail to get a
good attack.
Such confidence in one's own ability as we have been describing
usually results in the acquiring of what is called an easy
manner,--self-possession,--in short, _poise_, and it is the possession
of such a bearing that gives us confidence in the scholarship and
ability of the leaders in any type of activity. But the influence of
this type of manner cannot be permanent unless it rests upon a
foundation of really solid knowledge or ability.
[Sidenote: THE SECOND ELEMENT IN LEADERSHIP]
The second element included in leadership and organizing ability is
the power to make oneself understood, that is, clearness of speech and
of expression. This involves probably first of all, so far as
conducting is concerned, a voice that can be easily heard, even in a
fairly large room, and that carries with it the tone of authority. But
it includes also a good command of language so that one's ideas may be
expressed clearly, and one's commands given definitely. An important
point to be noted in this connection is that the conductor must be
able to exercise rigid self-control, so as not to become incoherent
under stress of anger, emergencies, or other excitement.
[Sidenote: THE THIRD ELEMENT IN LEADERSHIP]
The final element involved in leadership is a tremendous love of and
respect for the thing that is being done. Napoleon became a great
general because of his confidence in his own ability, and because of
his very great enthusiasm for his work. Lincoln became one of the
greatest statesmen of all times largely because of his earnestness,
his extraordinary love and respect for the common people, and his
unfaltering confidence in the justice of the cause for which the North
was contending. Pestalozzi could never have become one of the world's
most influential teachers if he had not felt that the thing he was
trying to do was a big thing, a vital thing in the life of his
country, and if he had not had a real love in his heart for his work
among the ragged and untrained urchins whom he gathered about him.
And for the same reason it is clear that no one can become a strong
and forceful conductor who does not have an overwhelming love of music
in his heart. We may go farther and say that no conductor can give a
really spirited reading of a musical composition if he does not feel
genuinely enthusiastic over the work being performed, and that one
reason for the sluggish response that musicians often make to the
conductor's baton is the mediocrity of the music which they are being
asked to perform. The conductor is not in sympathy with it (sometimes
without realizing this himself), and there is consequently no virility
in the playing or singing. The remedy for this state of affairs
consists, first, in allowing only those who have some taste in the
selection of music to conduct; and second, in inspiring all conductors
to take much more time and much greater pains in deciding upon the
works to be rehearsed. In directing a choir one may examine a dozen
cantatas, or twenty-five anthems, before one is found that is really
distinctive. If one stops at the second or third, and thinks that
although not very good yet it is possibly good enough, very probably
the choir will be found to be sluggish and unresponsive, filled with
what Coward calls "inertia."[6] But if one goes on looking over more
and more selections until something really distinctive is discovered,
it is more than probable that the chorus will respond with energy and
enthusiasm.
[Footnote 6: Coward, _Choral Technique and Interpretation_, p. 73.]
We have heard many arguments in favor of teaching children only the
best music, and here is yet another, perhaps more potent than all the
rest. They must be taught only good music because you as a musician
will find it impossible to become enthusiastic over mediocre or poor
works; and if you do not yourself glow over the music that you are
directing, you will hardly succeed in arousing the children's
interest, for enthusiasm spreads by contagion, and there can be no
spreading by contact unless we have a point from which to start.
A sense of leadership consists, then, of a combination of
self-confidence and poise, clearness of speech and expression, and
enthusiasm for one's work; and if with these three there is mingled
the ability to think clearly and definitely, we have a combination
that is bound to produce distinctive results, no matter what the field
of activity may be. Let us repeat that the encouraging thing about the
whole matter is the fact that most of the things involved in
leadership can be _acquired_, at least to a certain degree, if
persistent efforts are made for a long enough time.
Before going on with the topic to be treated in the next chapter, let
us summarize the materials out of which our conductor is to be
fashioned. They are:
1. Innate musical ability.
2. A long period of broad and intelligent music study.
3. An attractive and engaging personality.
4. A sense of humor.
5. A creative imagination.
6. Conscious leadership and organizing ability.
Some of these qualities are admittedly almost diametrically opposed to
one another, and it is probably because so few individuals combine
such apparently opposite traits that such a small number of musicians
succeed as conductors, and so few organizers and business men succeed
as musicians. But in spite of this difficulty, we must insist again
that any really tangible and permanent success in conducting involves
a combination of these attributes, and that the conductor of the
future, even more than of the past, must possess not only those
qualities of the artist needed by the solo performer, but must in
addition be a good business manager, an organizer, a tactician, a
diplomat, a task-master--in plain English, a good _boss_. It is
primarily because of the lack of these last-mentioned qualities that
most musicians fail as conductors. A writer in the _Canadian Journal
of Music_, signing himself Varasdin, sums it up well in the following
words:
He who wishes to "carry away" his body of players as well as
his audience, the former to a unanimously acted
improvisation, the latter to a unanimously felt emotion,
needs above all "commanding personal magnetism," and
everything else must be subordinate to that.
He must be "very much alive"--(highly accumulated vital
energy, always ready to discharge, is the secret of all
personal magnetism)--and the alertness, the presence of
mind, the acute and immediate perception of everything going
on during rehearsal or performance, the dominancy and
impressiveness of his minutest gesture, the absolute
self-possession and repose even in working up the most
exciting climaxes and in effecting the most sudden
contrasts--all these are simply self-evident corollaries
from our first and foremost requirement.