"The very first thing in playing in public is to free oneself of all
distrust in one's own powers. To do this, nothing must be left to
chance. One should not have to give a thought to strings, bow, etc. All
should be in proper condition. Above all the violinist should play with
an accompanist who is used to accompanying him. It seems superfluous to
emphasize that one's program numbers must have been mastered in every
detail. Only then can one defy nervousness, turning excess of emotion
into inspiration.
"Acoustics play a greater part in the success of a public concert than
most people realize. In some halls they are very good, as in the case of
the Cleveland Hippodrome, an enormous place which holds forty-three
hundred people. Here the acoustics are perfect, and the artist has those
wonderful silences through which his slightest tones carry clearly and
sweetly. I have played not only solos, but chamber music in this hall,
and was always sorry to stop playing. In most halls the acoustic
conditions are best in the evening.
"Then there is the matter of the violin. I first used a Joseph
Guarnerius, a deeper toned instrument than the Jean Baptista Guadagnini
I have now played for a number of years. The Guarnerius has a tone that
seems to come more from within the instrument; but all in all I have
found my Guadagnini, with its glassy clearness, its brilliant and limpid
tone-quality, better adapted to American concert halls. If I had a Strad
in the same condition as my Guadagnini the instrument would be
priceless. I regretted giving up my Guarnerius, but I could not play the
two violins interchangeably; for they were absolutely different in size
and tone-production, shape, etc. Then my hand is so small that I ought
to use the instrument best adapted to it, and to use the same instrument
always. Why do I use no chin-rest? I use no chin-rest on my Guadagnini
simply because I cannot find one to fit my chin. One should use a
chin-rest to prevent perspiration from marring the varnish. My Rocca
violin is an interesting instance of wood worn in ridges by the stubble
on a man's chin.
"Strings? Well, I use a wire E string. I began to use it twelve years
ago one humid, foggy summer in Connecticut. I had had such trouble with
strings snapping that I cried: 'Give me anything but a gut string.' The
climate practically makes metal strings a necessity, though some kind
person once said that I bought wire strings because they were cheap! If
wire strings had been thought of when Theodore Thomas began his career,
he might never have been a conductor, for he told me he gave up the
violin because of the E string. And most people will admit that hearing
a wire E you cannot tell it from a gut E. Of course, it is unpleasant on
the open strings, but then the open strings never do sound well. And in
the highest registers the tone does not spin out long enough because of
the tremendous tension: one has to use more bow. And it cuts the hairs:
there is a little surface nap on the bow-hairs which a wire string wears
right out. I had to have my four bows rehaired three times last
season--an average of every three months. But all said and done it has
been a God-send to the violinist who plays in public. On the wire A one
cannot get the harmonics; and the aluminum D is objectionable in some
violins, though in others not at all.
"The main thing--no matter what strings are used--is for the artist to
get his audience into the concert hall, and give it a program which is
properly balanced. Theodore Thomas first advised me to include in my
programs short, simple things that my listeners could 'get hold
of'--nothing inartistic, but something selected from their standpoint,
not from mine, and played as artistically as possible. Yet there must
also be something that is beyond them, collectively. Something that they
may need to hear a number of times to appreciate. This enables the
artist to maintain his dignity and has a certain psychological effect in
that his audience holds him in greater respect. At big conservatories
where music study is the most important thing, and in large cities,
where the general level of music culture is high, a big solid program
may be given, where it would be inappropriate in other places.
"Yet I remember having many recalls at El Paso, Texas, once, after
playing the first movement of the Sibelius concerto. It is one of those
compositions which if played too literally leaves an audience quite
cold; it must be rendered temperamentally, the big climaxing effects
built up, its Northern spirit brought out, though I admit that even then
it is not altogether easy to grasp.