THE MAN WITH THE BATON

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

BOOKS BY ME.

The Unfinished Symphony
From Bach to Stravinsky
Wine, Women and Waltz
The Man with the Baton
Composers of Today
Hebrew Music

THE MAN WITH
THE BATON

The Story of Conductors and
Their Orchestras

DAVID EWEN

WITH AN XNTOOIWCTION BY

SERGE KOUSSEVITZKY

"Th&re ate no had
then &r$ only bad cowluctors

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THOMAS Y. CEOWELL COMPANY

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By THOMAS Y. CBOWKM, COM FA NIT

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FOREWORD

I SHOULD like to make It elear that it was
not my intention in this book to discuss every
prominent conductor of the past and present. My
primary purpose, here, was to throw some light on
the mysterious art of conducting and, with it, upon
the greatest personalities that this art has produced,
However, to discuss every name in baton history that
has earned distinction would have cluttered these
pages with repetitious material that would have
bored the reader to tears. Therefore, I have followed
the procedure of selecting from the mass of out
standing conductors those who require special men
tion either in lengthy chapters, in several pages or
paragraphs; cithers I have pointed to in passing*
There arc, to be sure, some eminent batomsts whose
careers and art do not contribute any new material
to our general thesis; their omission from this book
should not reflect unfavorably either upon their com
petence or their importance*

CONTENTS

<1 11 AFTER PAGE

INTIIODUOTION, by Sorgo Koussovitzky ... 13

BOOK ONE

INTRODUCTORY COMMKNTS HISTORICAL
AND ANALYTICAL

1. TIIK CONDUCTOR'** INKTIUTMENT: The fiympfiony

Orchestra . . * ......... 2 4 J

I!. Tin'; CoNimcrroit AHHITMKS ARTIHTK:

SKJNtKK'ANOK * . . . ...... 08

III. WHAT IH TIUH Tame; OAU;W> CONDUOTINCJ? . 87

BOOK Two
TIIK .FIRST DYNASTY

I. VCJN Billow HANH RicirTicit 'MAHLKit . . . Ill

II. u Tll lN( ( OMlA1tAlU*K NlKIflril" ..... 127

III* KAIU* MUTK: AM AMKUK^AK TKAGKDY , . . * 143
IV* FKMX WKIXOAUYNKII , * ...... * 160

BOOK TiutKK
BATONS OF OUR DAY

I. ToHrANtNi ..,..*.* 189

II. HTOKOWHXI ,****,,.** 107

HI. Ko!iiwKvn7xy ,...,.... 227

IV* A (lIUHtl* <jr DlHTiNCH'tHHEU (llIKHTH * * . 2'tl

V* THIS DAWN OK TICK <iot> ***.*, 270

VL BATON KxiuttiTtoxiKM .*****. 270

*..,**. 205

M .**. * 857

..*...*.* 868

ft

"

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Koussevitzky Conducting" ...... Frontwpwc

Sir Thomas Beecham ..*.,,,,.,,, 44

Walter Damrosch ...... *..* 60

Hans von Bxilow ... w ..,...., 112

Hans Kichter . . . . ....... . . 118

Gustav Mahler .....,*... 122

Artur Nikisch ....*.,,.,,. 128

Karl Muck ..... ......... 1 44

Felix Wemgartner ....**,,.* 160

Arturo Toscanini - . * *,,***,. 170

Toscaninx During a Rehearsal ,..*, w 100

Leopold Stokowski ...... . . , * , 198

Leopold Stokowski . ...... . . 210

Serge Koussevitflky .,..,.... 22B

Willem Mcngelberg ......*, 244

Clemens Krauss . . . * % . * * * . . 2/J4

Bruno Walter .*..,........ 200

Wilhelm Furtwftnglcr ***.....,.. 206

Werner Jansson * * . * * * * # # * 270

Josfi Iturbi ....,..,.... 274

Otto Kkmperer ..,.,*...,,, 202

Eugene Goossens ...,...,,. 81 jj

Erich KMber . . * * . * * . . # t , {J20

Hans Lange ..*.*.*,.,,, 024

Eugene Ormandy . * , ..... . * . , 8JJO

Artur Rod^Inski .....,*,.,

10

INTRODUCTION

By Serge Koussevitzky

INTRODUCTION

Interpretation and the Interpreter

1.

A 5 AN auxiliary art, interpretation is, above all,
most closely connected with music. Interpre
tation manifests itself in two directions. On one side,
it serves as a link, becomes the intermediary step
between hearer and author. Its most important aim,
here, is the creation of a contact between author and
public. In this direction, interpretation only then
reaches its goal when it produces a real, living con
tact, when it becomes that vehicle through which the
aesthetic value established by the author is trans
mitted to the public directly and with greater power.
The greater receptivity the interpretation arouses in
its listeners, the more perfect will it be. The power
of conviction will dominate in the struggle and
victory over indifference, and passive receptivity
peculiar to the public, generally formed of a casual
assembly of people of heterogeneous culture, dif
ferent tastes and artistic habits.

Good interpretation leads the public to one de
nominator, seeking to make homogeneous the mixed

13

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

crowd, bringing it to one level of receptivity. The
impression is that the mass is transformed into one
single listener. The first instant of contact created
by the good interpreter is the moment of smoothing,
of bringing the listener's mind to some single artistic
level. It is the gathering of all the heterogeneity
and motley of artistic tastes into one focus, which,
in this meaning, resembles the interpreter himself.
If that aim is not immediately reached, one must
consider the interpretation to have failed and all that
follows later is destined also to failure the contact
cannot arise.

The performance will go in one direction. The
listeners' receptivity, instead of yearning towards
unity, will diverge more and more from interpreta
tion and will be scattered in the audience itself, pro
voking, at last, a complete discordance between
interpreter and audience. What is called mutual
misunderstanding will then happen. The reason is
not at all in the fact that the performed music or the
interpreter is bad. The cause is quite different: It
is the absence of a will in the interpreter, the absence
of that power which urges the public to submit itself
willingly, or even unwillingly if this is necessary. The
performed work may be excellent, but the contact
does not arise if the will of interpretation is absent
in the interpreter. And the inverse ; The performed

INTRODUCTION

piece may be of low artistic quality, but if the inter
preter's will is obvious the contact with the listeners
will arise in any circumstance.

The matter of second moment in interpretation is
the attraction toward the interpreter of the listeners
brought to one level of receptivity. This attraction
must increase with such strength that, in the end, it
has brought the hearer to a complete subordination.
If this complete subordination is reached, it gives
birth to what is called an immediate receptivity
which overcomes both satiety and indifference and
even the peculiar, professional feeling that is, puts
the listener into an immediate contact with living
music and expression. This is the interpreter's great
victory creating such receptivity on the part of
the audience. Then happens the "awaking" the
listener trying to return to his customary state. If
this is easy for him, the whole matter is concluded; if
the return to the previous state becomes difficult,
sometimes impossible, then a very important thing
has happened. Awaking from his musical sleep,
the listener faces reality, which takes a new shape,
an unusual one. As if the world had partly changed,
life possesses a new value. A spiritual enrichment
has taken place. For the interpreter this is the
highest reward, the highest step to which interpreta
tion may ascend,

15

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

2.

Interpretation is not an art by itself, but an
auxiliary one, greatly dependent on the general con
ditions of musical creation in this or that epoch.
What we consider a stylistic performance is the link
between musical performance and musical creation
this link being determined in relation to some defi
nite epoch. A stylistic performance, of any quality,
can always be only more or less precise. There is no
solid basis to the argument that this or that style of
our period coincides with previous performances. It
is always a matter of guess-work and conventions.
The quality of a stylistic performance always de
pends not so much on traditions as on the sagacity
and culture of the interpreter himself.

A good interpreter commands not only the styles
of different epochs, but also the composer's styles of
one period. At the same time he does not copy any
thing at all. An interpreter, who possesses a style
of his own, creates his performance by uniting past
traditions in the shape they reached us with the tech
niques of our time. Neither Bach's nor Beethoven's
tempo and dynamics is in accordance with our tempi
and dynamics, and to copy servilely the previous
performance would mean to retard modernity forci
bly and artificially, achieving only dullness ; for it is

16

INTRODUCTION

not possible to turn life backward. In a perform
ance of classical works, seeming sometimes free, the
departure from the past serves more to transmit the
character and meaning of the work than a servile
imitation of this past. To speak the truth, one must
consider interpretation a very young art (in the
sense of orchestral conducting) . It was born at the
end of the nineteenth century and really flourished
only in our time. It is a mistake to think that the
great conductors of the past were better than the
contemporary ones. There is much more solid
ground to suppose that such excellent conductors of
the nineteenth century as Hans von Billow or Hector
Berlioz would be unable to do anything with the
modem orchestra and modern music. Their tech
niques are indivisibly connected with the romantic
period, and in our time they would be weak, helpless,
just as some winner at a London Derby in the nine
teenth century, were he even the most marvelous
jockey of his time, would not be able to use an aero
plane instead of his horse and replace Lindbergh.

If in Wagner's and Berlioz's time the techniques
of orchestral conducting were not clear, in such
measure as it was then possible to contest the inde
pendent part played by a conductor, now these tech
niques of orchestral conducting have reached such
fruition that they may, with justice, be considered

17

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

an independent musical science. Wagner and Ber
lioz, had one to judge by the testimony of their con
temporaries, were excellent conductors; but both,
trying to confine to a definite theory the techniques
of orchestral conducting, could write only a few pages
about it. Now, the development of these techniques,
and their explanation, would need the writing of
great scientific and theoretical works. The techniques
of a modern conductor are not less complicated and
precise than the techniques of a modern virtuoso, and
the quality of orchestra playing does not depend any
less on the fingers, wrist and hand of the conductor
than a violinist or a pianist depends upon his instru
ment. The art of a virtuoso is in the submission to
himself only of one instrument, on which he plays,
and in his union with it. The conductor's techniques
are not connected immediately with the instruments,
but with two groups of living men, toward whom
his will is directed. His art is to transform the first
group into one vibrating instrument, sounding as if
he played on it, not conventionally, but with his own
hands and fingers; and the second group, which is
the public, the conductor yearns to change into one
listener. Thus, in the form in which it now exists,
interpretation is a new kind of art. It is a product
of our time, appearing to be one of the achievements
of the twentieth century. The conductor's creation,

18

INTRODUCTION

today, is an offering to the treasury of spiritual
values of mankind, on an equal basis with the work
of the scientist, the architect, and the painter-creator.
The musician interpreter causes the fusion of all the
manifestations of the modern man's activity, out of
which modern culture is built. Being a painter, he
is at the same time an organizer and an educator in
the world of the beautiful. He belongs to those
happy promoters of mankind who help to vanquish
everyday gray existence, lifting it to the ideals to
wards which life tends.

19

BOOK I

INTRODUCTORY COMMENTS:
HISTORICAL AND ANALYTICAL

I

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

The Symphony Orchestra

1.

SIR FREDERIC H. COWEN, the eminent
English composer who for many years con
ducted the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra of Lon
don, once referred to the art of conducting as "the
greatest and the most subtle in all the executive
branches of music." If this is so and there are few
to dispute this contention the reason should not be
difficult to uncover. The conductor performs upon
the most complex musical instrument in the world:
the symphony-orchestra. This is a gargantuan organ
ism which, like some mythological monster, has many
bodies but one mind. To understand so complicated
an organism it is imperative to reduce it to its com
ponent parts, and to analyze each part separately.

We can separate this tonal monster into four dis
tinct bodies: there are the strings, the woodwinds,
the brass and the percussion. Of these, the most
important, not merely in size but in expression as
well, is, without a doubt, the string section. Com-

23

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

prising more than three-fifths of every orchestra,
the strings cannot be equalled by any other body in
the symphony orchestra for range, dynamics and
tone-quality.

The string-section is reducible into still smaller
segments: the violins (which, in turn, fall into two
classes "first" and "second"), violas, violoncellos
and double-basses. The violin is too familiar an
instrument to require comment. The viola which,
like the violin, is played under the chin and sup
ported by the shoulder is somewhat larger in size
than the violin, has strings that are thicker and that
can produce a tone of much greater mellowness and
depth, and is tuned one-fifth below. The violoncello
is one octave lower than the viola; and the double-
bass, in turn, is one octave lower than the violoncello.

Over each of these groups presides the "first-desk
man" (the "first-desk man" of the first violins is the
only one possessing a special title, that of "concert-
master"). Usually a virtuoso of distinction, the
"first-desk man" not only performs the solo passages
of every musical work that calls for them (Rimsky-
KorsakofFs Scheherexade, for example, requires a
solo violin, and Richard Strauss's Don Quixote de
mands a solo viola and a solo violoncellist) But he
also assists the conductor in explaining technical
problems to the men by direct illustration,

24

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

Since the time of Cesar Franck, the harp has been
added as a prominent member of the string-section.
Composers like Wagner and Richard Strauss have
used the harp with sensuous effects in their orchestra
tion.

In a symphonic-body like the New York Philhar
monic Symphony Society there are eighteen first
violins, eighteen seconds, fourteen violas, twelve
'cellos, ten double-basses and two harps. It is cus
tomary, in performing Haydn and Mozart, to reduce
the strings to less than half the number. The posi
tion of these groups upon the platform is by no
means definitive. Most conductors prefer to keep the
first violins at their left hand, the seconds at their
right, with the violas and 'cellos behind the violins
and the double-basses in one line in the very rear of
the orchestra, A few conductors, however Willem
Mengelberg in New York was one example group
the first and second violins together at their left
hand, combine the violas and the violoncellos at the
right, and range the double-basses at the extreme
left-hand corner of the platform.

The woodwinds, so called because they are wind
instruments constructed out of wood, represent the
second important body of the symphony-orchestra,
and can usually be found on the concert-platform in
two rows behind the violas and violoncellos. The

25

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

highest register in this group is voiced by the flute
and the piccolo 1 (the piccolo being nothing more
than a "little flute/' half the size, and one octave
higher than its parent). The soft, tender, dulcet
tones of the flute are familiar to all lovers of music,
and are utilized by the composer for his most ex
pressive passages; one brings to mind particularly
the unforgettable flute solo in the last movement of
Brahms' Fourth Symphony, or the repetition of the
opening melody for violins in the poignant Adagio
of Beethoven's Fourth Symphony. The flute as
well as its child, the piccolo differs from all other
woodwinds in one very important respect : its mouth
is a flue through which the performer blows, whereas
with all other woodwinds the mouth of the instru
ment holds a reed (or double reed) which, when
breathed upon, quivers delicately, setting the air-
column into motion.

The oboe, next in register to the flute, has a
conical-shaped tube, and holds a double-reed in its
mouthpiece. Its tone is of such poignancy that the
oboe is often enlisted by the composer for elegiac
effects as, for example, the funeral march of the
Eroica Symphony of Beethoven where the oboe re~

i Although the flute is today made of metal. It comes under the
category of "woodwind" Instruments because originally it was con
structed of wood.

26

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

peats the opening march melody first announced by
the violins, endowing it with an altogether new ten
derness. Directly related to the oboe-family is the
English horn (curiously named, for it is neither
"English" nor a "horn"!), tuned one-fifth below the
oboe. First introduced into the orchestra by Rossini,
the English horn suffered neglect until Cesar Franck
employed it in the second-movement of his Sym
phony in D-minor, and Richard Wagner brought it
further prominence by utilizing it for his shepherd's
pipe music in the third act of Tristan.

Somewhat more robust and masculine an instru
ment is the clarinet, whose tube is cylindrical instead
of conical, and which utilizes a single, instead of a
double, reed. The clarinet is often spoken of as one
of the most expressive instruments in the orchestra,
by virtue of its four-octave range and its lavish tone.
Those who are interested in comparing the tone
qualities of the oboe and the clarinet can do so very
effectively by referring to any recording of Schu
bert's Unfinished Symphony where the second theme
of the second movement (bar 66) is first expressed
by the clarinets and then repeated with some ampli
fication by the oboes.

There exists an entire family of clarinets. The
one most usually employed in the orchestra is the
Clarinet-in-A, and less frequently the bass-clarinet,

27

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

tuned one octave lower. Other clarinets, called
upon from time to time, include the E-flat and B-flat
clarinets. All of these instruments are identical with
one another as to keys, holes and fingering; they
differ only in the scale upon which each is built.
Why should there exist such varieties of clarinets?
Why should not one clarinet be capable of playing
all clarinet music? The answer need not elude us.
When there are many accidentals (sharps or flats)
in a musical work, fingering becomes extremely
complicated; and the technical facility of the per
former consequently decreases considerably. In
such cases the composer has been taught by experi
ence that it is much more expedient to use another
clarinet the E-flat or the B-flat instead of the one
in A which, since they are tuned to a different scale,
will eliminate most of the accidentals.

The lowest register of the woodwind section is
assigned to the bassoon, and its relative the centra-
bassoon, which is one octave lower. Like the oboe,
the bassoon has a conical shaped tube, and a double
reed. Its tone is very deep, heavy, somewhat vul
garly rakish in quality, and is therefore eminently
satisfactory for humorous passages, Beethoven well
realized this, in his depiction of a village band, when
he composed the third movement of the Pastorale
Symphony.

28

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

In the classic symphony, one pair of each of the
woodwinds with the exception of the piccolo, of
which only one is essential is sufficient. It is only
in later symphonic music that the woodwinds in
creased in numbers and importance. Today, a large
symphonic body requires the services of no less than
four flutes, one piccolo, four oboes, one English-
horn, four clarinets, one bass clarinet, four bassoons
and one contra-bassoon.

Seated directly behind the woodwinds on the sym
phony-concert platform, are found the brasses the
muscle and sinew of every orchestra, the resonance
and sonority of every orchestral composition. The
French horns with tubes coiled into circles from
one end of which expands the wide bell, and from
the other, a funnel-shaped mouth have the highest
voice among the brasses, a voice of mellow majesty.
Wagner used the French horns for his most gran
diose utterances the opening of the Good-Friday
music in Parsifal, for example. The trumpet and
the trombone are familiar instruments both as to
shape and sound. The tuba has a conical tube with
a deep funnel-shaped mouthpiece, and because of
its low register is often felicitous in expressing
passages of masculine strength. Wagner employed
the tubas when he wished to give voice to his most
heroic conceptions; and it is for this reason that in

29

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

the opening pages of the death music for Siegfried
in Gotterdammerung the tubas are so prominently
utilized.

Although in the classic symphony four horns,
three trumpets and three trombones suffice, the de
mands of a modern orchestral work are much more
exacting. A major symphony-body employs, there
fore, six horns, four trumpets, three trombones, one
tuba and one bass-tuba.

We come, finally, to the last of the orchestral
bodies the percussion instruments which are
grouped directly behind the brasses. For variety of
instruments, and effects they can produce, the per
cussion is unique. The most important of this family
are the kettledrums (or the tympani, as they are
more frequently known) those three bulging
stomachs of sound so essential to the dramatic climax
of every musical work and sometimes even used as
major instruments (as Beethoven did with such
telling results in the Scherzo of the Ninth Sym
phony). The three drums of the tympani represent
three different tones which, in turn, can be raised
or lowered by adjusting the screws. It has fre
quently been commented upon that, of all orchestral
performers, the tympanist must possess the most
sensitive ear. Often, in the midst of the perform
ance, he must change the tones of his instrument;

30

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

and his aural perception must be so keen that, with
an entire orchestra playing, he is able to adjust his
instrument to the correct pitch.

The bass-drum (the drum which is usually found
in brass-bands), the snare-drums and the cymbals
are likewise employed to heighten and intensify
dramatic climaxes. A few other percussion instru
ments, exotic in their origin, are called upon to sug
gest foreign countries: the gong, for example, to
speak of China; the castanets, of Spain; and the
tambourine, of the Orient. Still other percussion
instruments are utilized both to enrich tone-colors or
to produce the most delicate effects* The triangle,
a steel-rod bent into triangular form and beat upon
with a spindle-shaped piece of metal, has a metallic
ring of delicate quality (e.g. the Alia mar da section
of the choral movement of Beethoven's Ninth Sym
phony), The celeste, which in appearance resembles
a harmonium (steel-plates are struck by hammers,
directed by the keys of a keyboard) can produce a
quality so ethereal that Tschaikovsky brought it out
of obscurity to depict a fairy dance of the sugar
plum in his Nutcracker Suite. The xylophone (a
series of horizontal bars of wood, struck by a ham
mer) , and the glockenspiel (resembling a xylophone,
with the exception that a series of steel bars are used
instead of wood) can produce the most exquisite

31

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

tones of tinsel. More robust, and more drenched
with color, are the sounds produced by the bells (a
series of horizontal metal bars) and the chimes (long
perpendicular tubes of steel), both struck with
hammers.

The modern symphony orchestra requires five
percussion players, one performer often called upon
to employ several instruments.

Besides the instruments mentioned above, enu
meration should be made of others, less frequently
in use. The piano has become a member of the
modern orchestra because it is used so extensively
by such contemporary composers as Respighi, Stra
vinsky, Shostakowitch, etc.; and, less frequently,
as in Saint-Saens' C-minor Symphony a modern
score calls for an organ. Occasionally, a composer,
searching for new colors, will utilize the most tm-
orthodox instruments. Berlioz, for example, called
for a bass-trumpet, a contra-bass trombone and a
contra-bass tuba none of which is in general use,
A symphony of Gustav Mahler, or an orchestral
work of Richard Strauss, will sometimes require a
mandoline, a guitar or a saxaphone. And there are
modern composers whose imaginations are so limit
less that they demand unusual instruments for the
expression of their musical ideas; and in this way
complete strangers often find their way into the sym-

32

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

^TTT'T-VT-TT T * **'**TTTVTTTVTTTTrTTTTTTyTTTrtTTTVy

phonic family. Respighi employed a gramophone
in his Pines of Rome, Richard Strauss a "wind-
instrument" of his own invention in Don Quixote,
and Joseph Schillinger a Thereminvox ("ether
music") in his Air phonic Suite.

2.

Many years of experimentation, of trial and
error, have been responsible for the present-day
organism of the symphony-orchestra. In its slow
evolution from an inchoate group of instruments to
the greatest vehicle for musical expression, its num
bers were at times increased and at other times de
creased; effects were first tried and then eliminated;
old instruments were discarded and new ones intro
duced* So through centuries of musical progress
the symphony-orchestra has undergone growth and
change as a human-body might and its evolution
was marked by an increase in its physical resources,
development of its personality, strengthening of its
muscles, tissues and sinews, and enrichment of its
voice.

A glance at this growth and evolution of the
orchestra can be illuminating in giving us a more
complete understanding 1 of the structure of our pres
ent-day symphonic organisations. It is not essen
tial for us to trace the development of the orchestra

33

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

with the meticulous diligence of a theoretician; there
exist many distinguished treatises on instrumenta
tion need we mention Gevaert and Berlioz? which
cover the ground with penetrating thoroughness.
For our purposes it is sufficient to point out merely
the milestones in the march of the orchestra towards
present-day maturity, and to designate only the es
sential changes in its organism.

It is generally conceded by the musical historian
that the father of our modern symphony-orchestra
was Claudio Monteverde (1567-1643), likewise the
parent of modern opera. It is true that before
Monteverde's day there existed groupings of instru
ments into orchestral bodies. There is documentary
evidence of orchestras giving performances of instru
mental music in the courts of Edward IV (14th
century) and Francis I (15th century), orchestras
which included an ill-assorted assemblage of trom
bones, lutes, viols, drums, flutes, and a virginal. It
is equally true that Monteverde's contemporaries
Peri in Eurydice and Cavaliere in La Rappresenta*
%ione delVAnima e del Corpo employed groupings
of instruments (usually a violin, a guitar, a lute, a
cembalo and a lyre) to accompany the voices. But,
without exception, in all of these instances the or
chestra lacked a definite character; it was dispropor-

84

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

tionately assembled; its resources were poverty-
stricken.

With Monteverde, the orchestra was brought for
the first time to something approaching artistic im
portance. In his musical expression of dramatic
effects, Monteverde leaned heavily upon the orches
tra for support. He increased its size, and intro
duced an assortment of instruments more varied
than had existed heretofore. The orchestra of Orfeo
called for thirty-nine players, with a rich assortment
of string, brass and wind. Monteverde inaugurated
effects in orchestral technique which, at the time,
must have stung the ears of musicians ; in Tancredi
e Clorinda the use of tremolo and pizzicato for
strings were first introduced. He enriched orches
tral color, strengthened sonority, and increased tech
nical resources. What is, perhaps, even more
important is the fact that, for the first time, he
established definitely an instrumental style of com
position as opposed to the vocal. And for the ex
pression of this "instrumental style" the orchestra
was in his hand a supple and pliable instrument.

After Monteverde, experimentation with the or
chestra became a favorite pastime with composers.
Jean Baptiste Lully (1633-1687) first gave the
strings the prominence they deserved by employing
them to voice his exquisite melodies. Alessandro

35

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Scarlatti (1659-1725) suggested strongly that the
string-quartet would soon become the nucleus of the
orchestra by accompanying his airs with two violins,
two violas and a bass. With Vivaldi, Handel and
Bach, the string-quartet became the very backbone
of the orchestra. The marvelous polyphonic fabric
that both Handel and Bach wove for the string-
section, in their Concerti Grossi, broadened the
horizon of the strings immensely, and for the first
time definitely established them as the all-important
body of the orchestral organism. From this time on
the physiology of the orchestra begins to assume
recognizable features.

The orchestra during the day of Haydn and
Mozart already presents a familiar aspect to our
eyes. Comprising about thirty players, it included
first and second violins, violas, 'cellos, basses, two
flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two
horns and the tympani. With Mozart, the flutes,
oboes, clarinets and bassoons received flattering at
tention and their scope and importance increased,
It was Beethoven, however, who brought the orches
tra to almost present-day development

With Beethoven, many orchestral instruments
which, until then had been used solely for accom
paniments, achieved full importance in the sym
phonic scheme for the first time. That awkward

36

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

fellow the double-bass began to acquire nimble-
ness, and was even utilized for solo passages (as in
the trio of the Scherzo of the Fifth Symphony).
The brasses were given an individuality they had
never before possessed. Moreover, Beethoven in
serted new voices into the orchestral throat. Such
instruments as the piccolo, contra-bassoon, trombone
now became permanent members of the orchestral
body; and the percussion propagated into a veritable
prolific family now to include the triangle, cymbals,
bass-drum as well as the tympani. And, finally, in
its resources for artistic expression its dynamics,
sonority, technique, color the orchestra had taken
gigantic strides across the pages of the "immortal
nine symphonies/'

After Beethoven's Ninth Symphony,, new instru
ments persistently made their appearance in the
orchestra, introduced by composers indefatigably in
search of new colors and timbres ; and many of these
instruments were to become of permanent impor
tance. Mendelssohn first employed the tuba in
symphonic-music and with Richard Wagner the
tubas were given an unparalleled importance;
Meyerbeer brought with him the bass-clarinet;
Rossini, the English horn; and Berlioz dismissing
so many of his unimportant innovations several
varieties of the clarinet, particularly that in E-flat.

07

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Of even greater importance was the rapid increase
of the technical equipment of the orchestra after the
time of Beethoven. Berlioz's introduction of keyed
woodwind instruments into the orchestra an inven
tion of Boehm virtually revolutionized the entire
technique of woodwind playing. As Mr. H. C.
Colles has explained in the Oxford History of Miisic
(volume 7) , before the invention of the keyed wood
winds "certain scales were very difficult to play in,
rapid chromatic passages were uncertain, and many
chromatic shakes impossible. Moreover, the holes
had to be placed where the players' fingers could
cover them and not in the exact positions which
acoustical laws dictate. And the result of this was
uncertain intonation which the player had to correct
as far as possible by his manner of blowing- A
composer asked that he should play accurately and
in tune; the player set himself to improve his instru
ment and his technique, his efforts finally resulting
in the Boehm action."

Equally revolutionary for the horns and trumpets
was the introduction of valves and pistons, making
it possible for these instruments to master any scale
with equal flexibility.

Finally, the orchestra after Beethoven developed
a much more opulent palette of colors. With the
use of divided strings (first employed by Weber,

38

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

Schubert and Mendelssohn) which splits them into
many more groupings than the traditional quartet,
their polyphonic texture became richer and more
complicated Wagner's prelude to Lohengrin, for
example. And under Berlioz and Wagner the brass
and woodwinds learned how to blend into brilliant
combinations of tonal hues; and the percussion to
produce pyrotechnical displays of aural fireworks.

3.

Of the major symphony-orchestras in existence to
day, the most venerable is the Leipzig Gewandhaus
Orchestra, whose distinguished career reaches as far
back as the days of Johann Sebastian Bach. The
Leipzig Gewandhaus orchestra dates from 1742, and
its concerts known as ff das Grosse Concert" were
given in an ancient market-hall, from which the or
chestra derived its name. The first director was
Johann Friederich Doles the same Johann Doles
who succeeded Bach as cantor of the St. Thomas-
schule and who introduced Mozart to the music of hi
great predecessor when Mozart visited Leipzig in
1789.

The early career of the Gewandhaus Orchestra
was marked by uncertainties and vicissitudes. With
the Seven Years* War it passed out of existence,
returning to life in 1763 with Johann Adam Hiller

89

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

as director. Once again its life span was short. It
was not until a final reorganization took place, in
1781, that the Orchestra was firmly planted upon its
two feet and prepared for its long, consecutive
march through musical history.

The first of the great conductors to bring the
Gewandhaus to importance was Felix Mendelssohn
who, directing the orchestra from 1835 until 1843,
brought the performances to an artistic level it had
never before approached. Mendelssohn first intro
duced a scrupulous fastidiousness in the interpreta
tion of every work he performed with the result that
the concerts under him passed from mere lethargic
routine and became endowed with new life. By
beginning to exercise judgment over tempo , by be
coming meticulous at rehearsals about the quality of
performance, and by consciously striving for new
effects and nuances, Mendelssohn introduced a new
standard for symphonic performances at the Ge
wandhaus that was unequalled in Germany at the
time.

With Karl Reinecke who, if not so imposing an
artist as Mendelssohn, was even much more efficient
as a disciplinarian the orchestra acquired a com
mand of its technique that became the wonder and
awe of contemporary musicians* A solid musician
who was almost pedantically fastidious about "cor-

40

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

fTV,TTTTT*TTyTT TT yfyyvtTfVvtfTTTTTTTVtyTTTTTT'

rect playing/' Reinecke during Ms thirty-five years
(1860-1895) as head of the Gewandhaus orchestra
remedied the imperfections that had previously
existed in the orchestra and brought it to a technical
efficiency that was almost machine-like in its precise
perfection.

There followed the, greatest chapter in the history

of the Gewandhaus Orchestra. Artur Nikisch

combining the artistry of Mendelssohn and the tech
nique of Reinecke assumed the conductorship in
1895, and held the position for twenty-seven years,
establishing the Gewandhaus firmly as one of the
great orchestras of the world. Upon Nikisch's death,
in 1922, Wilhelm Furtwangler was selected as suc
cessor and notwithstanding his youth, he proved
to be so well equipped for the task of carrying on
Nikisch's work that the great artistic standard of the
Gewandhaus did not suffer deterioration. More re
cently, the Gewandhaus has been permanently di
rected by Bruno Walter.

The Royal Philharmonic Society of London bears
upon its shoulders an age of more than one hundred
and twenty years. It was founded in 1813 as a
group of thirty performers with Johann Peter
Salomon as "leader" (or concertmaster) and Muzio
Clementi "at the cembalo," For several years, the
Royal Philharmonic functioned under a system that

41

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

called for two conductors at the same time: the
musician "at the cembalo" designated the tempo by
movements of his hands and head to the "leader"
who faced him, and the "leader/' in turn, relayed
the beat to the musicians of the orchestra. But, as
George Hogarth the distinguished musicologist of
the early nineteenth century observed, this system
was as clumsy as it was complicated. "The leader'
could not execute his own part properly, and at the
same time attend to, and beat time to, the whole
band; while his colleague at the cembalo could
scarcely exercise any influence on the 'going of the
performance' without coming into collision with the
leader.' "

It was Ludwig Spohr who overturned this method
of conducting. In 1820, he was invited to be the
"leader" of the Royal Philharmonic Society, after
a conductorial experience in Germany where the
authority of his performances created a favorable
response. At the first rehearsal, he startled the mu
sicians by his revolutionary attempt to dispense with
the services of the cembalist and to direct while
standing upon the platform with a little stick in his
hand. His triumph with this new method 2 inaugu
rated an altogether new era for the Royal Philhar-

2 For a f nil description of Spohr's triumph with the baton, see the
next chapter.

42

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

>TTTTTTTTV T TTf T * * * TTTTfTTTTTTTTTVTTTtTrTTTTT

monic Society, in which the conductor was to be in
full command of the artistic destinies of the
orchestra; and the baton was henceforth to be his
regal sceptre.

During the next decade, the importance of the
Royal Philharmonic as a musical institution rested
primarily in its relations with Ludwig van Beetho
ven. Much to its credit, the Royal Philharmonic per
ceived the full artistic stature of Beethoven, even
from the limited perspective of contemporaneity,
and attempted to bring him encouragement and com
pensation. In 1816, it offered Beethoven seventy-
five guineas to compose expressly for it three new
overtures and although Beethoven pocketed the
money and dumped upon the doorstep of the or
chestra three "pot-boilers" which he had previously
composed (the Overture in C-major, the overture
to Ruins of Athens, and the King Stephen Over
ture) the Philharmonic did not lose patience. In
1822, it paid him another fifty pounds to compose
a new symphony, the exclusive rights to which were
to rest with the orchestra for eighteen months. Once
again Beethoven could be capable of dishonesty. On
April 1824, the manuscript of the Ninth Symphony
reached the London Philharmonic, and one month
later Beethoven permitted a performance (the
world's premiere, incidentally) to take place in

43

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Vienna. It will reflect everlasting glory to the Royal
Philharmonic that, notwithstanding this shabby
treatment it received at the hands of the great com
poser, it could be capable of a gesture so sublime as
that of sending Beethoven when he was on his sick
bed, in 1827 a gift of a hundred pounds.

During the next hundred years, some of the great
est conductors of the world came to direct the Royal
Philharmonic and to place it among the great orches
tral organizations of all time. Felix Mendelssohn
came in 1833 and again in 1842 and 1844, to give
London a glimpse of his scholarly readings. For
nine years (1846-1855) the Royal Philharmonic
underwent a rigorous technical schooling under the
conscientious direction of Michael Costa. From
then on, it developed rapidly both technically and
artisically particularly under the regimes of
Sterndale Bennett (1856-1866) whom Felix Men
delssohn admired so enormously, and Sir Frederic
H. Cowen (1900-1908) . In recent years, the Eoyal
Philharmonic has performed under such world-
famous conductors as Artur Nikisch, Sir Edward
Elgar, Willem Mengelberg, Safonov, Sir Thomas
Beecham, Sir Landon Ronald, Albert Coates, Felix
Weingartner, Wilhelm Furtwangler, Sir Henry J
Wood, Paul von Klenau and Ernest Ansermet.

The Queen's Hall Orchestra, which originated in

44

SIR THOMAS BEECHAM

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

1895 under the sponsorship of Robert Newman and
with Henry J. Wood as conductor, was the parent
of the present-day B. B. C. Symphony Orchestra
in London. Beginning with a series of summer
Promenade concerts, the Queen's Hall Orchestra
guided by a young conductor of high integrity and
ideals outgrew its summer schedule and became a
fitting rival to the Royal Philharmonic. In 1904, a
fierce dispute within the ranks of the orchestra
threatened to bring to a sudden end the rapidly
flowering career of this young organization. But
after a large number of musicians resigned to form
a new competitive orchestra, the remarkable organi
sation talents and discipline of Henry J. Wood were
instrumental in restoring unity, cohesion and artistry
to the Queen's Hall Orchestra. For more than
twenty years it enjoyed a fertile existence; and it
established its dynamic and versatile conductor as
an interpreter of importance. In March 1927, the
Queen's Hall orchestra disbanded, but the following
autumn it reappeared under the new name of the
B, B. C, Symphony Orchestra, with the long-
familiar and welcome baton of Sir Henry J. Wood
still its directing spirit.

The rebel group that deserted the Queen's Hall
Orchestra In 1904, organized itself into the London
Symphony Orchestra and gave its first concert at

45

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Queen's 'Hall on June 9 5 1904, under Hans Richter.
Richter's genius brought the orchestra to a marvelous
efficiency in a short time, and the right of the orches
tra to an important position in England's musical
life could not be doubted. In 1912, the London
Symphony Orchestra toured America with Artur
Nikisch, and since that time has been instrumental
in introducing such eminent conductors as Sir Ham
ilton Harty, Enrique Arbos, Serge Koussevitzky
and Eugene Goossens to London's music audiences.
Crossing the Channel, we discover that the oldest
of contemporary symphony orchestras in Paris is
that of the Conservatory, which today performs reg
ularly under the sensitive direction of Philippe
Gaubert. The first of the Concerts du Conserva
toire took place in 1828 (the principal work per
formed was Beethoven's Eroica Symphony) under
the baton of Fra^ois Antoine Habeneck, who
remained the conductor of this organization for
twenty years. Habeneck enjoyed an enviable repu
tation, and in his method of conducting was said to
have been many years ahead of his time* Fastidious
about correct performance, he was a stringent task
master, and his temper could be cataclysmic in the
face of mistakes. He brought to music an enormous
zest and enthusiasm, and his performances were said
to have been characterized by a tremendous vitality;

46

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

Berlioz and Wagner spoke of his art with the highest
praise. Not the least of Habeneck's achievements
was his presentation, for the first time in France, of
all of the Beethoven symphonies in chronological
order.

Among the more important conductors who suc
ceeded Habeneck at the Concerts du Conservatoire
were Narcisse Girard (1849-1860), Paul Taffanel
(1892-1901), A. Messager (1908-1918) and, finally,
Philippe Gaubert.

The Soci&te des Jeunes Artistes du Conservatoire
(not to be confused with the Concerts du Conserva
toire) was the parent of the present-day Pasdeloup
concerts, which enjoy such distinction under the
direction of such outstanding French conductors as
Rhene-Baton and Albert Wolff. The Pasdeloup
Orchestra was founded in 1851 by Jules Etienne
Pasdeloup who, unable to find an orchestra willing
to perform his works, was driven, to create a sym
phonic organization which would bring to public
attention the music of younger French composers.
It cannot be said that Pasdeloup was a great con
ductor; contemporary criticism informs us that he
was not always meticulous about correct perform
ances. But as a force in French music, his impor
tance cannot be overestimated. His programs were
always alive with modernism, and the young French

47

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

composers (Gounod, Vincent D'Indy and Saint-
Saens, for example) found Pasdeloup a vigorous
ally. For several years, the Societe of Pasdeloup
struggled in comparative obscurity. Then, in 1861,
its conductor brought the orchestra to Cirque
cFHiuer for regular Sunday afternoon concerts
known as the Concerts Populaires, and for a while
it performed to crowded halls. But competition
among symphony-orchestras, on Sunday afternoons,
was very keen, and one of its first victims was the
Concerts PopuLaires. In 1884, the conductor re
gretfully announced that public indifference to his
work was too great for him to continue, and the or
chestra passed out of existence. In 1886, an attempt
to revive the Concerts Pop^tlaires proved unsuccess
ful. It was not until 1918, that the concerts returned
to become a factor in Parisian musical life, when
Khene-Baton brought them back to life and in
honor of their valiant founder called them the Pas
deloup concerts.

Two other symphony-orchestras of Paris have
more recent origins. In 1874, Bdouard Colonne
who had served a short apprenticeship as a guest-
conductor of the Concerts Populaires of Pasdeloup
inaugurated the Concerts du Chdtelet. Like Pas
deloup, Colonne was motivated by a driving de>sire
to provide a haven for the vigorous young voices in

48

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

French music and for many years he stubbornly
fought the battle for the unknown composer. Mas
senet, Lalo, Bizet, Cesar Franck and, finally,
Berlioz (all of whose works for chorus and orchestra
were performed with scrupulous diligence) as
serted themselves as important composers of the day
in the concerts directed by Colonne. Fortunately,
Berlioz's star as a composer was soaring in Paris at
the time, and the elaborate programs of his music
that Colonne had prepared, soon brought tremen
dous popularity to these concerts. Until his death,
in 1910, Colonne's concerto enjoyed unparalleled
success in Paris ; and their conductor was generally
recognized as the foremost in France at the time.
Romantic by temperament, Colonne was uniquely
fitted by nature to give expression to the music of
his contemporaries; and what his baton lacked in
perfection of details it supplied with enthusiasm and
devotion. He was succeeded by Gabriel Pierne.

The Lamoureux concerts, directed today by Paul
Paray one of the less important of modern French
conductors originated on October 23, 1881, when
Charles Lamoureux inaugurated a series of orches
tral concerts, called the Nouveuoc concerts, at the
Chdteau d'eau. For eighteen years, Lamoureux
brought distinction to his orchestral concerts by
virtue of his profound musicianship, devotion to the

49

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

musical art, and a fine sincerity. Not the least of
his accomplishments was the wide recognition and
appreciation which he aroused for Wagner's music,
the bulk of which he performed in concert-form.
Upon his death, in 1889, his son-in-law, Camille
Chevillard, inherited the orchestra, and he carried
on the eminent work of his predecessor with consid
erable success. There were critics to maintain that,
in his freshness of approach and enormous vitality,
many of Chevillard's performances surpassed those
of his father-in-law. However, with the death of
Chevillard (1923) the importance of the Lamoureux
concerts began to decline; today, Lamoureux's
formerly significant organization is only one of the
less important orchestras in Paris,

There are two other important symphony-orches
tras in Europe whose histories should be traced,
and both of these can be spoken of in a few lines,
The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra was organized
in 1882, its first conductors being Joseph Joachim
(whose baton was never so potent as his violin-bow)
and Karl Klindworth, an efficient, although not par*
ticularly inspired, director. The history of the
Berlin Philharmonic duplicated that of the Leipzig
Gewandhaus Orchestra in that its richest period
began under the baton of Artur Nikisch (1897)
and continued with Wilhelm Furtwangler (1922),

50

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

both of whom divided their time between Leipzig
and Berlin.

In Vienna, the Philharmonic Orchestra began its
career in 1842, under the direction of Otto Nicolai,
as a subsidiary of the Opera. For many years, its
performances were not particularly impressive, and
failed to attract very much attention. When, in
1875, Hans Richter was appointed its permanent
conductor, the history of Vienna Philharmonic be
came an important one. From 1897 until 1901, the
orchestra took further strides towards greatness,
driven by the indefatigable artistry of Gustav Mah
ler. Then came its greatest epoch. Karl Muck
(1903-1906) and Felix Weingartner (1908-1927)
brought the orchestra to the very front rank of
modern symphonic-organizations. Since 1927, the
more permanent conductors of the Vienna Philhar
monic have been Franz Schalk and Clemens Krauss,
while some of the principal guests have included
Furtwangler, Richard Strauss, Mengelberg, Tos-
canini and Weingartner.

4.

The history of music in America, as James Gib
bons Huneker wrote many years ago, is the history
of the New York Philharmonic.

In 1842, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra,

51

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

comprising fifty-three members, gave its first concert
at the Apollo rooms in New York City, and no less
than three batons were enlisted for the occasion:
U. C. Hill, a pupil of Spohr, directed Beethoven's
Fifth Symphony; H. C. Timm conducted the Kalli-
woda Overture in D, and D. Etienne the Oberon
Overture of Weber. The early years of the Phil
harmonic were not crowned by any substantial suc
cess artistic or financial. Carl Bergmann, who
conducted the orchestra from 1855 until 1876, was
never a great conductor, even in his best perform
ances, but he was a good musician, and his long
regime was characterized by a vigorous and indefat
igable struggle to overcome the apathy of his public
to great music, past as well as present. It is
paradoxical, perhaps pathetic, that victory in this
bitter struggle should have meant at the same time
personal defeat for Bergmann; with the growth of
music appreciation among the audiences of the phil
harmonic came a growing dissatisfaction with the
conductor's stereotyped performances. In 1876,
Carl Bergmann was compelled to resign from his
position. After a transitory year which saw Dr,
Leopold Damrosch as conductor (t^o years before
Dr. Damrosch organized his own New York Sym
phony Society) the orchestra passed into the hands
of Theodore Thomas.

52

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

The history of music in America would today
depict a different story if Theodore Thomas had
never been in our midst. He was never esteemed
as an outstanding conductor, even in his own heyday;
but, I feel confident, musical history will find few
forces who have shaped it so unmistakably as
Thomas did in America. Born in Esens, in Han
over, in 1835, he came to this country as a boy of
ten. From the time he attained manhood he conse
crated his life, with an almost priestlike fervor, to
developing musical taste in America. In 1864, he
gathered a group of musicians into a symphony-
orchestra which he directed in concerts at Irving
Hall and Steinway Hall and, somewhat later, every
evening in Central Park Garden. A born teacher,
Thomas realized that an appreciation for great
music is not inculcated overnight; that the method
adopted by Carl Bergmann, with the Philharmonic
forcing great music upon audiences without a
preliminary training can lead only to failure. As
a result, he cluttered his programs with "light" music
waltzes, polkas, quadrilles; and then, somewhat
surreptitiously, inserted movements from sym
phonies and great overtures into his concerts. It
was not long before more and more good music
asserted itself on his programs, finding a rapidly
growing audience.

53

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

In 1869, Thomas took his orchestra upon an ex
tensive tour through the East and West, insidiously
planting the seeds of propaganda for great music
wherever he went. It is said that several orchestras
in America today owe their origins to the fact that
Thomas came to the important cities and introduced
vast audiences to great symphonic-music for the first
time.

His reputation was rapidly expanding, and when
the New York Philharmonic Orchestra searched for
a successor to Carl Bergmann, it came upon Thomas.
From 1876 until 1892 (with the exception of one
year), Thomas was the principal conductor; and it
was largely through his efforts that the Philharmonic
developed during these years into an outstanding
symphonic body. The high artistic standard of its
programs was unquestionable. Thomas felt that the
time for discarding popular music from his programs
had arrived, that the audiences were now ripe to
appreciate the greatest music; and from this time on
only the greatest composers received performances
at his concerts. The modernist of those years found
in Theodore Thomas a staunch defender, even
though there were occasions when the audiences be
gan to show signs of definite rebellion against the
preponderance of unfamiliar Berlioz, Liszt, Wagner
and Richard Strauss that so frequently made their

54

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

appearance on his programs. One concert was par
ticularly illustrative. When Thomas introduced
Liszt's Mephisto Waltz, the resentment of the audi
ence against new music had grown to such propor
tions that it noisily refused to permit Thomas to
begin conducting the new work, Thomas, however,
could be stubborn. Angrily, he tore his watch from
his pocket and, holding it in the palm of his hand,
announced that he would allow five minutes for all
dissenters to vacate the hall; and that after that time
he would perform the work irrespective of what at
titude the audience adopted. And his battle was
not fought in vain. It is generally conceded that
although much of Berlioz?, Liszt and Wagner had
been introduced to New York by Bergmann it
was Theodore Thomas who made these composers
popular,

By the time Theodore Thomas left the Philhar
monic for Chicago, the orchestra had grown in ar
tistic importance (and had firmly established itself
financially) ; it was now pliant and flexible, ready
for the great hands that were soon to bring it new
greatness. These great hands included those two
preeminent Wagnerites whose performances, always
built upon grandiose outlines, so often approached
the majestic Anton Seidl (1891) and Emil Paur
(1898) who, in turn, were succeeded by Felix

55

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Weingartner (1903), Safonov (1904) and Gustav
Mahler (1909). From 1911 until 1923, the Phil
harmonic relapsed under the lethargic and uninspir
ing leadership of Josef Stransky. But it has since
roused itself from its temporary slumber. After
merging first with Artur Bodanzky's New Sym
phony Orchestra (1922) and then with Walter
Damrosch's New York Symphony Society (1926),
it not only returned to its former magnificence but
under the batons of such great conductors as Men-
gelberg, Furtwangler, Toscanini and Bruno Walter
went further and assumed an undisputed position
at the side of the two or three greatest symphony-
orchestras in the world.

The name of Theodore Thomas is even more
closely linked with the history of the Chicago Sym
phony Orchestra than with the New York Phil
harmonic. In 1891, an orchestra arose in Chicago
largely through the indefatigable drive of Charles
Norman Fay, a music-lover and Theodore Thomas
was promised full command over its destinies if he
would accept the post of conductor. On October
17, 1891, the first concert took place, with Beetho
ven's Fifth Symphony as the principal work.

For fourteen years, Theodore Thomas worked
under ideal conditions in Chicago. His word was
law, and he was given full freedom to develop his

56

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

orchestra and to shape its artistic program. When
he died, on January 4, 1905, the orchestra had been
installed in its new concert-hall, and was firmly
established as the most important artistic institution
in Chicago. There was no dissenting voice in the
opinion that it was Theodore Thomas' sincerity, mu
sicianship and passionate zeal that had brought the
orchestra permanency and distinction.

Theodore Thomas' baton passed on to Frederick
Stock, his young assistant, who has since continued
Thomas' work with competence and uncompromis
ing integrity. Unfortunately, Stock has never been
a spectacular figure; and he has never courted the
front-pages with eccentricities of personality and
temperament. The result has been that the fame
he so well deserves has never been fully his. It is
true that his is not the gargantuan stature of Tos-
canini or Muck, and his performances do not scale
Olympian heights. But he is a musician to the
tips of his fingers, a forceful leader, and a fine
and sensitive interpreter. His performances are
always solidly musical and sincere. It is largely
because of his efforts that the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra continued its artistic growth and assumed
importance among the major symphonic bodies in
America.

In Boston, the great symphony orchestra that

57

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

bears the name of the city was the realization of a
dream long nursed by Henry Lee Higginson, a
sincere music-lover, and one of Boston's most promi
nent art-patrons. On March 30, 1881, Higginson
announced that he was prepared to support such a
musical project, and the following autumn an or
chestra of sixty players gave its first concert in the
Boston Music Hall under the leadership of Sir
George Henschel.

George Henschel, a fine musician and a refined
interpreter, remained with the orchestra for the first
three years. The command then passed on to Wil-
helm Gericke (1884-1889), a firm disciplinarian,
who immediately assumed the thankless task of
improving the orchestra, New faces persistently
appeared in the organization during Gericke's r6-
gime, and after five years of careful experimentation
and replacements, Gericke succeeded in producing
an orchestra of such technical and artistic attain
ments that even a musician like Artur Nikisch was
astonished when he came to conduct the orchestra in
1889. With Karl Muck (1905 and 1912) the or
chestra's preeminent position among the symphonic
groups of the world was fully established- The pass
ing of Muck brought about a sharp decline to
the orchestra's reputation. Neither Henri Rabaud
(1918-1920) nor Pierre Monteux (1920-1924)

58

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

could walk gracefully in the tremendous footsteps
of their distinguished predecessor. Moreover, dur
ing Monteux's regime, a strike among the musicians
in an unsuccessful effort to establish a union in
the orchestra resulted in the resignation of more
than twenty musicians, including Frederic Fradkin,
the concertmaster, thereby weakening the structure
of the orchestra immeasurably. In 1924, however,
a new conductor was brought to Boston, with full
authority to reconstruct the organism of the orches
tra as radically as was necessary. And in a much
shorter period than anyone could dare to hope, this
new conductor he was Serge Koussevitzky suc
ceeded in restoring dignity and prestige to the con
certs of the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

The birth of the Philadelphia Symphony Or
chestra took place at the turn of the twentieth
century. While its initial conductors Fritz Scheel
(1900-1907) and Karl Pohlig (1907-1912) were
both excellent organizers and distinguished musi
cians, it was not until Leopold Stokowski was
brought from Cincinnati that the Philadelphia
Orchestra began to acquire individuality and im
portance. As H. E. Krehbiel has written, the Phil
adelphia Orchestra "owes its singularly perfect
ensemble to the genius of Stokowski."

"The genius of Stokowski" was equally responsi-

59

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

ble for bringing the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra
to front rank. Created in 1895 and launched upon
a successful first season by Frank van der Stiicken
and Anton Seidl, the orchestra did not rise to emi
nence until 1909 when, after a radical reorganiza
tion, the young Leopold Stokowski was appointed
its director. By the time Stokowski resigned from
this position, in 1912, the orchestra's significant posi
tion among American orchestras was quite apparent.
That position was considerably fortified from 1918
until 1922 with Eugene Ysaye, the world-famous
violinist, proving that his profound musicianship
could express itself felicitously with the baton.
Since Ysaye, the conductors of the Cincinnati Or
chestra have been Fritz Reiner and Eugene Goos-
sens.

5.

In concluding a resum6 of the rise of the sym
phony-orchestra in America, a few pages should be
devoted to one who has long been considered the
"dean of American conductors" and who was des
tined to carry on the work of Theodore Thomas in
increasing the musical appreciation of American
audiences. Dr. Walter Damrosch the fortieth an
niversary of whose first public appearance as a con
ductor was celebrated by the musical world on April

60

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT TTTT TTTTt TTTTTTTTTTTTTTrTTTT -TT*

12, 1935 has been, one must confess, a far greater
personality than an artist. Even his most devoted
admirers would hesitate to call him a great con
ductor, or even a very good one. Competent, he was,
and a fine musician as well ; and we have yet to see
a program-maker who could repeatedly fashion
concerts that possessed, for so long a time, such
variety, freshness and perpetual interest.

However, even in his prime and youth, Damrosch
never attained performances of outstanding merit.
His baton too often touched the surfaces of a musical
work without penetrating very far into the depths;
and it could frequently evoke no more than a stereo
typed reading from the players a reading in which
the inner voices, the subtle threads of sound that
course and intertwine into a musical fabric, were
usually completely absent. Moreover, it was true
that Dr. Damrosch never possessed that scrupulous
artistic conscience that inevitably belongs to the
great conductor. He was not above hurrying a sym
phony on occasions to twice its tempo when the
orchestra had to catch a train; and he never hesitated
to give a performance without preliminary rehearsals
when rehearsals, for one reason or another, could
not be obtained. Casual and superficial in his prepa
ration of most musical works, Damrosch was usually

61

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

quite satisfied, at the concert, if his orchestra played
correct notes, and no more.

And yet, in the history of American symphonic-
music his name looms large; and, though he cannot
be linked with the great conductors of his time, his
importance as an influence should not he hastily
dismissed. Through his travels with the New York
Symphony Society, at the dawn of the century, he
spread music to Western audiences that had never
before attended a symphony-concert. These voyages
to the hinterland (often marked by disagreeable
incidents such as the one in Nebraska where a music-
lover in the balcony insisted upon diverting himself
by spitting upon the bald heads of the bass-players!)
were enormously successful in spreading a genuine
love for great music, and it was not unusual for a
clumsy farmer to accost Damrosch at the end of a
program as one did in Fargo, North Dakota to
express his enthusiasm with these robust words:
"God dammit! I don't know why I like this music
but I dor

Even greater importance rests with Damrosch
because of his valiant battle for the modern com
poser at a time when he stood virtually alone on the
battle-field. With plodding perseverance, Damrosch
performed the works of the most important younger
composers, despite the chilling indifference of his

62

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

'T T T T T "T TTTTtTTTTTTTTrTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTtTTVVTT

audiences to this music, until he finally succeeded
in establishing a permanent place for the modern
composer on every symphony-program in America.
For Damrosch like some musical Voltaire may
have disapproved violently of what the young com
posers were saying, but he fought vigorously for
their right to say it.

, Walter Damrosch, who was born in Breslau,
Germany, in 1862, is the son of that eminent con
ductor Dr. Leopold Damrosch (1832-1885). Leo
pold Damrosch's prolific musical activities spanned
many decades, and two worlds. In Europe, as the
personal friend of Wagner and Liszt and as the
director of the Orchesterverein of Breslau, which he
himself organized in 1862, his influence in the musical
world was strongly felt, and his baton was an im
portant factor in bringing further appreciation to
the music of his two great friends. In America, he
attained even greater significance. As the founder
of the New York Symphony Society and the choral
Oratorio Society of New York, and as the first
Wagnerian conductor at the Metropolitan Opera
House, he was to be an important pioneer in our
musical life. Young Walter, therefore, not merely
inherited Dr. Leopold's baton, but his artistic mis
sion as well.

On the day of Walter's birth, the foremost mu-

63

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

sicians of Germany gathered at Leopold's house to
commemorate the event. Richard Wagner was
elected godfather, but at the last moment Wagner
demurred because having christened another son of
Dr. Damrosch, who died shortly thereafter he
maintained that the same misfortune that pursued
him through life would curse whomever he came into
close contact with. A substitute godfather, there
fore, was hurriedly enlisted and the child who was
to have been called Richard Wagner Damrosch was
now named Walter Johannes.

When Walter was five years old, his family
migrated to America whither Dr. Leopold had come
to conduct the Mannergcsangverein Arion in New
York. It was shortly after his arrival in America
that Walter made his debut, somewhat inauspi-
ciously to be sure, as an orchestra member. His
father was at that time rehearsing Schubert's Der
hausliche Krieg and a passage, in the "March of the
Crusaders" required the crash of a cymbal. To hire
a man merely to crash a cymbal was at that time con
sidered an extravagance. Dr. Leopold, therefore, en
listed the services of his bright six-year old son. For
several hours the father trained Walter how and
when to crash the cymbal. Then, at last, he felt that
young Walter had learned his lesson well The excite
ment of the concert, however, proved too great for

64

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

the little musician and, when his moment arrived,
his hands simply would not move. He saw his father
give him the signal once again, looking at him with
the fire of anger in his eyes but nothing, not even
the greatest effort on the boy's part, could raise
those two stiff hands to crash the cymbal!

It required the tragedy of Dr. Leopold Dam-
rosch's untimely death to bring Walter his first
assignment as a conductor. In 1885, Dr. Leopold's
death found the first Wagnerian cycle at the Metro
politan Opera House on the threshold of realization.
A substitute was needed to carry on the deceased
conductor's work and it having been known that
Dr. Leopold had been personally training his son
young Walter was called to the post. He had
mastered the lessons his father had taught him, and
he performed his duty competently. The ease with
which the baton rested in his hands inspired him to
carry on the other work of his father as well. And
so, although he continued as a Wagnerian conductor
at the Metropolitan Opera House for several years,
his indefatigable energy and idealism drove him to
assume, at the same time, the leadership of the New
York Symphony Society and the Oratorio Society
of New York.

It was as conductor of the New York Symphony
Society a position he held for thirty years that

65

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Walter Damrosch assumed a leadership among our
native conductors. Some of his achievements during
this long reign with the baton have been relegated
to the history-book. He was the first conductor to
perform in America Brahms' Fourth Symphony
and Tschaikovsky's Symphony PathStique. He
introduced America to Wagner's Parsifal, which
he gave in concert-form; and as an appreciatory
gesture Wagner sent the young conductor the last
act of Parsifal as a gift. He featured the most
representative of modern composers on his programs
at a time when their names were only vaguely fa
miliar and their work complete strangers: among
them Mahler and Bruckner, Vaughan Williams,
Stravinsky, Saint-Saens and Sibelius. Finally, he
was the first American conductor to acquire an inter
national reputation so much so that, in 1919, he
was invited to bring his orchestra to England and
France where his concerts were outstandingly suc
cessful.

Thus, for thirty years, Damrosch's genial and
warm personality, and his own devoted enthusiasm
for his art, were powerful propaganda for great
music in America. Then, when the battle had been
won and America had become more and more the
musical center of the world, Damrosch realized that
his life-work as an orchestral conductor had ended,

66

THE CONDUCTOR'S INSTRUMENT

The Symphony Society was, therefore, dissolved in
1926, and Damrosch discreetly withdrew from the
orchestral limelight, knowing as he did that hands
much more capable than his, were now on the Ameri
can scene to carry on the work; henceforth, he was
to devote his energies to the less exacting require
ments of the radio. He retired with grace and dig
nity, even though during the last few years of his
conducting particularly in his farewell appear
ances with the New York Philharmonic Symphony
Society when he shared the season with Mengelberg,
Toscanini and Furtwangler it had become pain
fully apparent that Damrosch's day as a conductor
had passed. Despite his present radio performances
on the weekly "Music Appreciation Hour" and an
occasional appearance at a charity concert, Walter
Damrosch's career belongs essentially to the past
history of American music.

67

II

THE CONDUCTOR ASSUMES ARTISTIC
SIGNIFICANCE

I

1.

AN article on Walter Damrosch published
several years ago in a popular radio monthly,
there appeared an anecdote about a young man who
came to visit this veteran conductor for the purpose
of inquiring into the secret of great conducting.
Inured to absurd questioning by a lifetime of popu
larity and the limelight, Dr, Damrosch far from
losing his customary poise and grace quietly
listened to the query and then reached to the bottom
drawer of his desk to withdraw a baton- "Beat three-
quarter fast time," Damrosch was reported to have
said to the young man. The aspiring Toscanini
waved the baton in mid-air to the imaginary strains
of a Johann Strauss waltz. "Now beat two-quarter
time/ 9 Damrosch continued. Humming to himself
the Allegretto of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony
the young man fashioned the required rhythmic pat
tern with the stick. "That," Dr, Damrosch an
nounced, "is all that there is to it, my young man."

68

ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

"Only/' there followed as an afterthought and
there must have been a mischievous gleam in his
eyes as he spoke, "don't give away the secret to any
one when you are world-famous !"

This anecdote is amusing only because it is read
by twentieth century eyes. A musician of the
eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries hearing
this story would not only fail to recognize the humor
implicit in it but would also, in all probability, con
sider it, in an amplified form, very sound advice.
For the conductor as a great artist, is essentially a
phenomenon as modern as wireless telegraphy and
the telephone.

Until the middle of the nineteenth century, the
conductor of orchestras served only one preeminent
function: He was the human metronome, beating
time for the musicians so that they might play to
gether. Conducting required no special talents or
extraordinary equipment, and the conductor -as
Artur Nikisch pointed out in an interview many
years ago "had no opportunity in years gone by
to develop an individual conception or an artistic
individuality." The work of the conductor consisted
of the mere mechanics of enunciating rhythm and
tempo. Every composer and every virtuoso, there
fore, considered himself eminently qualified to be
come a conductor when the occasion demanded. A

69

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

correct performance a performance, in other words,
in which the musicians played together in time was
all that was expected or desired of both the con
ductor and the orchestra.

But while the conductor as artist is essentially a
product of the past fifty years or so, the conductor
as time-beater "Taktschlager" the Germans called
him is as old as music itself. We read in Sir John
Gardner Wilkinson's Manners and Customs of
Ancient Egyptians that in the orchestras of ancient
Egypt it was customary for one or two musicians
to beat time by clapping their hands at regular in
tervals. In ancient Greece, one of the musicians
wore on his right foot a special heavy-leaden shoe
to enable him to stamp the time loudly enough for
all the other musicians to hear and follow. From
the music of ancient Egypt and Greece to that of
sixteenth, seventeenth and early eighteenth century
Europe is a leap over many years, and a vast ex
panse of musical growth and development; this
broad span failed, however, to change very radically
the essential status of the conductor. He remained
a time-beater that, and no more.

The method, or means, of beating time occasion
ally underwent slight variation with different
Tdktschldger during these passing years. "One man
conducts with the foot," Johann Bahr, concertmaster

70

ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

at Weissenfals, wrote in a book published in 1719,
"another with the head, a third with the hand, some
with both hands, some again take a roll of paper,
and others a stick." Johann Bahr might have gone
still further. Some utilized a handkerchief tied to
the end of a piece of wood; others hammered a key
on the organ bench. In the Sistine Chapel of Rome
in the sixteenth century, it was the custom to beat
time with a roll of paper called the "sol-fa." One
century later, Jean Baptiste Lully, in conducting,
used a heavy stick in all probability his walking
stick which he pounded upon the floor to emphasize
the time. 1 Progressing still another century we
learn from the section on "Battre la musique" in
Jean Jacques Rousseau's Dictionncdre that, in his
day, it was habitual for the conductor, at the per
formances of the Opera, to strike a stick on one of
the desks with metronomic regularity, thereby so
often disturbing the performances with his persistent
and indefatigable knocking that contemporary
writers maliciously nicknamed the conductor of the
Opera a "wood-chopper." 2

1 Lully's premature death is, as a matter of fact, attributed to this
method of conducting. I/ully, in the opinion of many musicologists,
accidentally struck his foot with the heavy stick until he developed
a fatal gangrene of the leg.

2 "How greatly are our ears disgusted at the French Ope>a with
the disagreeable and continual noise which is made by the strokes of
him who beats the time, and who has been ingeniously compared to

71

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

T-T VTTTTttTTVTtytftrTTI'fVTTTT^TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

In the eighteenth century it was generally the
custom to couple conducting (since it was esteemed
an insignificant task) with the playing of either the
organ, or more especially the harpsichord, which
sounded the ground bass. 3 A practice said to have
been first introduced in Dresden by Adolphe Hasse
in the early seventeenth century, it was employed by
such eminent Tdktschlager as Handel, Johann Se
bastian Bach and his son Philip Emanuel. From
Philip Emanuel Bach we derive a graphic descrip
tion of the benefits resulting from this method of
conducting. "The notes of the clavier," he is
quoted by Philip Spitta "which stands in the mid
dle surrounded by the musicians, are clearly heard
by all. If the first violinist stands, as he should, near
the harpsichord, it is difficult for any confusion to
ensue. If, however, anybody begins to hurry or
drag the time, he can be corrected in the plainest
possible way by the clavier; while the other instru
ments have enough to do with their own parts be
cause of the number of passages and syncopations;
and especially the parts which are in tempo rubato

a woodchopper felling a tree! But 'tis an inevitable evil. Without
the noise the measure could not be felt I"- Rousseau's Dictionnaire.

s At times conducting was coupled with the playing of an instru
ment other than the harpsichord or organ, such as the flute, or the
violin, for example,

72

AUTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

by this means get the necessary emphatic up-beat of
the bar marked for them."

Today, we can get a very illuminating conception
of this manner in which the Taktschldger of yester
day functioned by attending a performance of a
Handel Concerto Grosso or a Bach Brandenburg
Concerto conducted by Otto Klemperer or Willem
Mengelberg. These conductors adhere to tradition
by directing these works while playing upon the
harpsichord, precisely as the composers did two
centuries ago beating time with abrupt movements
of the head and body, and with hurried gestures of
the hand when the harpsichord is at rest.

Sometimes time-beating was much more compli
cated than the process mentioned above. In the
early nineteenth century, the conductor would sit
at the harpsichord, signal the beat with his head to
the concertmaster who faced him and who, in turn,
would designate the tempo to the men with move
ments of his violin while he was playing, or with his
bow when he was at rest. Sometimes, too, there was
both a time-beater (at the piano) and a leader (who
was the concertmaster) . In Vienna, Haydn's Crea
tion was performed with Kreutzer at the harpsichord
and Salieri as conductor; and, as we have already
seen in the preceding chapter, in the early history

73

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra of London
this method was used exclusively.

2.

Although at this time the conductor was an unim
portant time-beater, he was slowly beginning to
assert himself as a personality, and as early as the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries we find tem
perament already entering into conducting. Lully
used to break violins in a demoniac fit of rage when
the orchestra played out of time. The usually placid
Handel once threw a kettledrum at his orchestra.
Gluck was a tyrant when he directed, and it is re
ported that at one rehearsal he crept under the desks
on his hands and feet in order to pinch stingingly
the calf of an offending double-bass player. And
Beethoven, his biographers inform us, was an un
leashed tempest in the face of mistakes although,
we are also informed, he was by no means an efficient
conductor.

Conductors, as a matter of fact, were making
their tempers and whims so strongly felt that, by the
end of the eighteenth century as we are told in
Schiinemann's admirable history of conducting a
code of personal conduct was drawn up for them by
the musicians in the orchestra. According to this
code, a conductor was never to be "abusive"; he was

74

ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

never to be "behindhand in his praise"; he was
to be "sociable and companionable with his men,"
and he was to make his interruptions as infrequently
as possible and always with the utmost amount of
discreetness, courtesy and tact.

But the conductor was soon to assert his own
personality in directions other than temperament.
Johann Sebastian Bach, by virtue of his profound
musicianship, brought to his time-beating a keen
sense of musical values which first suggested that
the personal element in conducting was not much
longer to be absent. He would preside over "thirty
or more players all at once" so we learn from the
writings of Gessner, a contemporary of Bach, and
the rector of the St. Thomasschule in Leipzig
"recalling this one by a nod, another by a stamp of
the foot, another with a warning finger, keeping
time and tune; and while high notes are given out
by some, deep notes by others, and notes between
them by others, this one man, standing alone in the
midst of the loud sounds . . . can discern at every
moment if anyone goes astray, and can keep the
musicians in order."

The personal element, to a limited extent to be
sure, manifested itself as well in the conducting of
the Kapellmeister in Mannheim, Johann Wenzel
Anton Stamitz, contemporary of Bach. It was

75

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

principally the rigid discipline that, as first violinist
and Taktschlager, he imposed upon his fellow musi
cians that brought the Mannheim orchestra to a
virtuosity bewildering for the time the Mannheim
orchestra amazing contemporary musicians by its
ability to play crescendo and diminuendo! Today,
the musical historian concedes that in Mannheim
our modern symphony orchestra was born; to a cer
tain extent, the modern conductor was born there as
well.

3.

But we are, as yet, a long distance from the con
ductor of the twentieth century, and his evolution
was by no means an overnight one. The conductor
of the eighteenth century was not over-meticulous
about perfection of performance, and in the inter
pretation of a work his own opinions were rarely
voiced. Rehearsals were superficial, and only the
most cursory preparation was demanded for every
concert. We know, for example, that the first per
formance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony a work
which technically, as well as artistically, was so many
years ahead of its time received only two hurried
rehearsals; today, with our amazingly proficient
symphony organizations, a great conductor would
not undertake a performance of the Ninth Sym-

76

ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

phony unless he were given a full week of thorough
rehearsals.

It was not until the baton fully established itself
as the vital staff of life in the hands of the conductor
that his importance and prestige began to soar. 4 For
the baton was to free the conductor from the slavery
of performing upon an instrument, and at the same
stroke was to direct all of his attention and effort
upon the business of training performers.

The baton has been in existence for many cen
turies. In Emil Naumann's History of Music there
is an illustration of a fourteenth century minne
singer, Heinrich von Messen, who is shown employ
ing one in the direction of a group of singers and
players. And the "sol-fa" of the Sistine Chapel,
already commented upon, was after all a baton of
paper. In 1807, Gottfried Weber, a distinguished
musical theorist of Mannheim, spoke vigorously on
behalf of the baton, stoutly maintaining that it was
the only effective instrument for the hand of the
leaders. Others like Spontini likewise pledged
their allegiance to the stick. But in the early nine
teenth century, the baton was still something of a

4 In recent years, several conductors have attempted to dispense
with the baton, particularly that eminent Russian conductor Safonov,
and Albert Coates and Leopold Stokowski. But it is still generally
recognized by conductors that the baton is infinitely more effective
in clearly outlining rhythm than the bare hand.

77

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

curiosity and when Spohr visited England in 1820
to direct a few concerts of the Royal Philharmonic
Society, he bewildered his musicians into stupefac
tion at the rehearsal hy pulling from out of his
breast-pocket a small, heavy, stumpy stick and at
tempting to direct them by waving it over their
heads.

He has written about the event an all-important
one in the history of conducting in his Autobiog
raphy: "I took my stand ... in front of the
orchestra, drew my directing baton from my coat-
pocket, and gave the signal to begin. Quite alarmed
at such a novel proceeding some of the directors
protested against it, but when I besought them to
grant me at least one trial they became pacified. The
symphonies and overtures that were to be rehearsed
were well-known to me, and in Germany I had
already directed their performances. I, therefore,
could not only give the tempi in a very decisive
manner, but indicated also to the wind instruments
and horns all the entries, which ensured to them a
confidence such as hitherto they had not known. . . .
Incited thereby to more than attention, and con
ducted with certainty by the visible manner of giving
the time, they played with a spirit and correctness
such as, until then, they had never before been heard
to play. Surprised and inspired by this result, the

78

ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

orchestra immediately after the first part of the
symphony expressed aloud its united assent to the
new mode of conducting, and thereby overruled all
further bpposition on the part of the directors. . , .
The triumph of the baton as a time-giver was deci
sive."

The baton had now firmly asserted itself; it was
henceforth to be the all-important instrument for
the hand of the conductor. The first conductor to
realize this fully was Felix Mendelssohn, the famous
composer, who directed the Leipzig Gewandhaiis
Orchestra for eight years. It is probable that,
according to modern standards, Mendelssohn would
be accepted complacently as a third-rate conductor.
Richard Wagner made many derogatory comments
on the rigid formalism and straight jacket conserv
atism of * Mendelssohn's conducting (Mendelssohn,
for example, could not tolerate the use of tempo
rubato B in his performances) . But his historical im
portance is imposing. Because of his work with the
Gewandhaus, the conductor began to personalize his
performances, to make them a reflection of his tem
perament and genius; the conductor, for the first
time, began to tear from his wrists the chains of the
Taktschlager. He was beginning to give a definite

B In the next chapter, tempo rubato is discussed and defined.

79

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

shape and quality to every performance, and to
make it a creative expression,

4.

It was in England that two conductors now made
their appearance who suggested, even more strongly
than Mendelssohn did, what the present-day con
ductor would be like.

The bizarre conductor was born with Louis An-
toine Jullien (1812-1860) . A Frenchman by birth,
Jullien fled from his native country because of
insolvency and came to England in 1840. From that
time on he established a remarkable reputation as a
conductor, primarily at the European Opera House
where for a long time he led annual performances
of orchestral music.

It was Jullien who first made of orchestral con
ducting something of a circus-spectacle which, a
century ago, surpassed the wildest antics of our
modern baton exhibitionists. He was perhaps the
first conductor to be fastidious about his personal
appearance, and when between numbers he woulcl
sit upon the stage facing the audience it was only
to impress his attractiveness upon its consciousness.
His shock of curly hair always revealed the unmis
takable touch of the coiffeur. His dress was the last
word in elegance; he always wore an elaborately

80

ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

embroidered shirt-front, and was lavishly bedecked
with gold chains, diamond rings and pendants.

During his conducting, Jullien stood upon a crim
son platform etched in gold; in front of him was a
carved music-stand, gilt-stained, and behind him an
ornately decorated gold and velvet armchair which,
in its ornate splendor, resembled a throne.

In his performances, Jullien was no less ornate.
His concerts were always characterized by the most
absurdly exaggerated histrionics. For example, be
fore conducting Beethoven, he would have a pair
of kid gloves ceremoniously brought to him on a
silver platter, and these he would put on and wear
during his conducting. For signally important music
he utilized a special jeweled baton. He would direct
with such a flourish and elaborateness that even a
contemporary newspaper the Courier and En
quirer was tempted to make the facetious comment
that "he used the baton to direct the audience." And
even his performances themselves were said to have
been marked by the most curious eccentricities; all
the music that Jullien conducted bore the unmis
takable fingerprint of its conductor.

But Jullien was not entirely a mountebank. By
introducing into his orchestra the foremost musi
cians that could be found, he improved the quality
of orchestral performances immeasurably. And, al-

81

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

though many of Jullien's programs were devoted to
the popular music of the day polkas, quadrilles,
waltzes he was a powerful agent on behalf of great
music by introducing into his programs the master
pieces of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven in small
doses, thereby slowly educating his audiences into
appreciating these great composers. No less an
authority than Berlioz has referred to Jullien as a
"clever and intelligent musician." The truth was
that Jullien was a strange combination of charlatan
and genius, of clown and artist.

In view of his strange antics during his lifetime
it may, perhaps, come as no surprise to the reader to
learn that Jullien died in an insane asylum.

A much more serious musician than Jullien, and
a more important conductor, was Michael Costa
(1808-1884). Costa was born in Italy, a de
scendant of a proud, old Spanish family. As a very
young man, he came to England to direct his own
cantata in Birmingham, In 1883, he was appointed
director and conductor of the King's Theatre, and
from that time dates his successful career with the
baton. "From the first evening when Signor Costa
took up the baton," wrote H. R Chorley, "it was
felt that in him were combined the materials of a
great conductor; nerve to enforce discipline, readi
ness to the second, and that certain influence which

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AUTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

only a vigorous man could exercise over the discon
nected folk which made up an orchestra in those
days."

Although Costa was not above utilizing display,
he was not half so exhibitionistic as Jullien, and
twice as important. In his performances with the
Royal Philharmonic which enjoyed under his
baton a celebrated regime and with his important
Handel festivals, Costa introduced an efficiency into
orchestral performances which, up to the time, was
virtually unknown. He brought the orchestra to a
high degree of technical skill, and his temperament
colored all of his performances. Individuality was
marked in his interpretations of great music. Under
Costa, another significant step was made in the his
tory of orchestral conducting.

5.

It should not be assumed, however, that even with
the remarkable strides made by Jullien, Costa and
Mendelssohn, conducting had as yet attained the full
stature of manhood. Certain growth and develop
ment had taken place, to be sure, but conducting was
still in the rompers of infancy. Baton technique, for
example, was not as yet widely developed. In Ber
lioz's book on Instrumentation (1848) we find an
excoriation against audible time-beating, and as late

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THE MAN WITH THE EATON

as 1880 Hermann Zopff, in his section on conducting
in the MusikdLisches Lemkon, advises the leader to
nail a piece of metal upon the upper edge of the con
ductor's stand and to tap the beat lightly upon the
metal. The conductor, morever, was not, as yet,
expected to know his score intimately; Francois
Antoine Habeneck, one of the foremost conductors
of his day, directed from a violin part! Rehearsals
were still inadequate and superficial. And the func
tion of the Taktschldger was still the conductor's
paramount task, for even Richard Wagner, in Uber
das Dirigiren, wrote that "the whole duty of a con
ductor is comprised in his ability to indicate the right
tempo/*

With Berlioz in France, and in Germany with
Liszt and Wagner, conducting took further healthy
strides towards artistic liberation. Separately, and
in different cities, these three great musicians were
going in one definite direction with their sticks. By
assigning greater importance to the baton than it
had enjoyed heretofore, and by devoting minute
pains and effort in rehearsal to phrasing, nuance and
dynamics far more than was formerly customary
Liszt, Wagner and Berlioz definitely brought into
being the new era of orchestral conducting.

The orchestra, moreover, had by now developed
into that complicated organism perfected by Wag-

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ARTISTIC SIGNIFICANCE

ner and Berlioz. New colors had been deftly etched
upon its palette ; new tone qualities had been discov
ered ; new voices introduced. The conductor could no
longer concern himself merely with the correct
tempo. Problems of sonority and balance now be
came pressing. It was essential now to have many
more rehearsals, and to devote much more fastidious
attention to the details of performance. This fastidi
ous attention was given by Berlioz, Liszt and Wag
ner and it is because of this that they definitely
ushered in the new age of orchestral conducting.

We are informed by those who heard Berlioz,
Liszt and Wagner conduct that, from a modern
viewpoint, there were obvious defects in their per
formances. That supreme mastery of the orchestra
known by the modern conductor, was not yet in their
possession: that ability to command and execute the
slightest and the most complicated desires with a
gesture and a nod. Moreover, too many exagger
ations and dramatics distorted their performances.
However, with all their faults, they definitely point
ed the way; and an entire school of conductors now
arose to follow their footsteps. Beginning with
Hans von Billow and continuing with such "per
fect Wagnerites" as Hans Richter, Gustav Mahler,
Anton Seidl, Felix Mottl, Hermann Levi and Dr.
Leopold Damrosch an altogether new type of con-

85

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

ductor was now to emerge upon the musical scene.
He was no longer a mechanical accessory. He was
now the soul and life's breath of the orchestra, its
dynamo of energy, its sensitized heart, its contem
plative mind. He was now the medium between
the music and the performers ; and the music, as it
coursed through his fingers, now began to acquire
new depth, new shapes and new meanings.

"I am now making a thorough study of Der Frei-
schiitz so that I may know it by heart," Hans von
Billow once wrote before beginning to conduct the
Weber opera. "Only when one has thus mastered an
opera ... in which each nuance, each instrument
has its special determination and importance, is it
possible so at least I think to rehearse and con
duct it. And this can only be done when one is not
obliged to bury one's head in the score."

With these words the new conductor officially
makes his bow. He has definitely ceased to be a
mere Taktschldger. He has now become a fine and
sensitive artist.

86

Ill

WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED
CONDUCTING?

1.

IT IS not an accident that, of all the branches of
musical expression, conducting is the only one
that has not been kind to the child-prodigy. The
baton has never gone well with velvet knee-pants and
flowing bow-ties. Violinists like Jascha Heif etz and
Yehudi Menuhin, pianists like Josef Hofmann have
played the concertos of Bach, Beethoven and
Brahms the prof oundest expression that the art of
music has produced with maturity and bewildering
comprehension at an age when most children have
only just outgrown their diapers. In the creative
field, musical history abounds with tales of ^wider-
kinder composing penetratingly beautiful music be
fore they have even learned to read or write ; need we
go further than the case of Wolfgang Mozart who,
at the age of ten, could compose an Adelaide Con
certo? And yet, the times when the conductor's
podium was invaded by the child-prodigy have been
amazingly few and far between; and, as yet, there

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

exists no instance in which it has been invaded with
any convincing degree of artistic success.

Several years ago, musical England was stirred
by the feat of Willy Ferrero, the son of a clown, who
seemed while conducting Wagner's Meister singer
Overture to possess such remarkable instinct for
orchestral direction that even so eminent a conductor
as Sir Landon Ronald was deeply impressed. Fur
ther acquaintance with Willy's performance, how
ever, soon revealed that he did not possess any sig
nificant musical knowledge, nor even an unusual
talent for musical expression but merely an intuitive
gift for rhythm. Willy returned to obscurity almost
as quickly as he had soared to fame. More recently,
tales have floated out of Soviet Russia singing high
praises of Margaret Heifetz, a girl of nine (no rela
tion to the violinist) who, on one program, conducted
Schubert's C-Major Symphony, Rimsky-Korsa-
koff's Scheherezade and Beethoven's Fifth Sym
phony with a surprising degree of competence. But
here, once again, there proved to be nothing more
than a keen ear and a fine talent for beating time ; of
musical penetration and interpretative talent there
seemed to be practically none.

Why, of all the branches of musical art, have we
had no precocious orchestral conductors to impress
us with performances as deeply as so many prodigies

88

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

of the violin and piano have done? The answer
should be apparent. Conducting unlike composi
tion, or the playing of any instrument demands not
merely a native talent for musical expression, but a
broad and thorough musical education, an intellec
tual background, maturity, experience, and integra
tion of personality. It is a subtle and complicated
art that can be mastered only even with all the
talent in the world after arduous training and
intensive study.

The music-lover well recognizes the fact espe
cially in ISTew York and Philadelphia where the
system of guest-conductors frequently brings a great
and a mediocre conductor to the same platform
within a few weeks that one and the same sym
phony-orchestra changes its soul completely under
the hands of different conductors. Through what
means does the conductor cause this transformation?
Precisely what are his approach and technique?

Before considering the technique of the conductor
it should be remembered that methods often vary
with different temperaments, that each conductor, if
he possesses individuality, will have his own
approach to the task. Who is there to pronounce
which is the more potent? There are some conduc
tors who are severe autocrats of the baton who, refus
ing to recognize that they have human-beings in front

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

of them, will manipulate their men as though they
were pieces of machinery. These autocrats will
insist that on the concert-platform they be masters of
all they survey, and that their word be the final law.
Thus every phase of the performance, no matter how
negligible, is controlled by them. This, of course,
often leads to marvelous mechanical efficiency in the
technique of an orchestra's playing, and to a concep
tion of interpretation that is unified and whole.
However, our present-day concertgoer, fed with
stories of the despotic rule of Toscanini or Stokowski
over their men, should not be tempted into believing
that this is the only efficacious method for the con
ductor. Others, whose temperaments do not permit
them to be so dictatorial as Toscanini or Stokowski,
have been equally successful with a far less stringent
policy. Felix Mottl and Artur Nikisch to point
to two giants of yesteryear always adopted a more
democratic method with their men. Not merely was
their relationship with their orchestra poised on a
much more human basis, but even in their interpreta
tions the individuality of the players under them
would be taken into account, Felix Mottl, for
example when the brass section of the orchestra
had a solo passage would invariably permit the
group freedom in phrasing within certain limitations,
and it is said that in the trombone passage of the first

90

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

fortissimo section of Tannhduser Overture, for
example, he achieved the most marvelous results. In
solo passages of a single instrument, Artur Nikisch
would always tell the player how he himself felt the
solo part should he performed, but he would always
add that "y u are perfectly free to play it in any
way you wish" ; and those who have heard Nikisch
conduct the last movement of Brahms' Fourth Sym
phony, the prelude to the last act of Tristan or the
second movement of Tschaikovsky's Fifth Sym
phony have written of how efficacious this method
can be. These conductors rebelling strongly
against the tyrannical rule of other directors were
convinced that, by assigning a certain individuality
to their men, they not merely attained a finer cooper
ation with them but they also succeeded in achieving
a much fresher performance.

Methods may vary in other respects as well. A
conductor like Toscanini calls for the utmost tense
ness on the part of the players when they perform,
both at the rehearsal and at the concert; in his
opinion, playing tends to become lackadaisical unless
the men are nervously rigid throughout the perform
ance of a work. On the other hand, Wilhelm Furt-
wangler has attained some of his most poignant
performances by advising his men to remain com
pletely relaxed and flexible while playing. Some

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

conductors Karl Muck and Mahler are excellent
examples complete all of their work at the
rehearsal to the minutest detail, and at the concert
merely beat time and give essential cues. Other con
ductors we can point out Stokowski and Kousse-
vitzky will, in rehearsing a standard symphony or a
thrice-familiar symphonic-poem, touch only on
important phrases at the rehearsal, and complete the
carving of their interpretations at the concert itself.
These conductors know well that too much rehearsal
can frequently be as dangerous as too little; the
orchestra-men, after all, cannot be expected to
approach with enthusiasm and zest a piece of music
that they have played and replayed at rehearsals
until every theme begins to scrape across the nerves.

2.

But although the method that conductors may
utilize to exercise their technique may vary with
different temperaments, the technique itself always
remains the same calling for certain qualifications,
certain proficiency and background, certain aptitude
and talent, certain training and education that every
outstanding conductor must possess.

At the outset, it might be illuminating to quote
what one eminent conductor has said about his art.
"A great conductor," in the opinion of Pablo Casals,

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WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

"must first of all be a great interpreter. The main
thing is to have a full, clear comprehension of the
works to be performed; perfection can only be
reached with hard and constant labor. . . . The
important thing is to communicate one's own sensa
tions to the players, and to make one's ideals under
standable. To know how to get in touch with others,
to be able to convince one's men and impress one's
own originality upon them, is in the highest degree a
mark of capability in a leader."

To fulfil happily such functions as Pablo Casals
has outlined above, the conductor must be endowed
with certain qualifications without which he cannot
hope to raise a baton successfully. First of all, he
should have the faculty of "hearing with his eyes and
seeing with his ears." In other words, his aural and
visual senses should be so coordinated that, in read
ing an orchestral score, he should be able to hear it
clearly with his mind's ear and know precisely how it
should sound in performance; and in performing a
work, he should be able to translate the sounds he
hears from the notes upon the printed page. This
requires a very comprehensive musical background
and training that embraces every phase of musical
theory. In addition to this faculty, the orchestral
conductor should know something of the poten
tialities and capabilities of every instrument in the

93

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

orchestra. It is imperative for him to have an insight
into its technique so that, in working out his effects,
he may know precisely what every instrument can
and cannot do, and can explain his intentions much
more lucidly to his men* A knowledge of the various
instruments gives the conductor the ability to
develop sonorities, to attain solid balances and to
etch in subtle tone-colors with a much surer and a
much more cunning hand.

This, of course, does not imply that the conductor
should be able to play every instrument of the
orchestra with proficiency. I make a point of this
because, at intervals, I have read newspaper stories
glorifying some of the more prominent of our con
ductors that suggested strongly that the conductor
could do this. This is so absurd on the face of it that
no very eloquent denial should be necessary. As a
matter of fact, not merely is there no conductor to
my knowledge who can play every instrument in the
orchestra well (a conductor like Hans Bichter who
could play many instruments capably is a phe
nomenon!), but very frequently a conductor cannot
even play his own instrument half so efficiently as the
most ordinary musician in his ensemble. I was told,
for example, of a Toscanini incident in which, at a
rehearsal, the maestro was attempting to obtain a
very difficult effect from the violoncellos. In disgust

94

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

at the failure of the violoncellists to understand his
explanations, Toscanini snatched the instrument
from one of the men (it must he remembered that
Toscanini was originally a violoncellist) and
attempted to reproduce the effect he had just
explained. The result was a performance so patheti
cally inferior to even the worst efforts of the violon
cellists that the humor of the situation struck even
Toscanini.

Accompanying this personal and intimate
acquaintance with the technique of the various
instruments of the orchestra, must come a thorough
knowledge of the musical score. This may sound
dangerously like a truism to the average music-lover ;
the truth, however, is that any number of orchestral
performances in our everyday musical experience are
robbed of all subtlety and penetration primarily
because the conductor is not half so familiar with his
music as he should be. A conductor should be so
intimate with the music that he is performing that the
slightest markings on the printed page are known to
him. After all, a conductor who is not thoroughly
acquainted with a work, so that every indication of
the composer is familiar, is likely to pass over too
many of the subtle requirements of the music, and
too many of the nuances. It is, moreover, quite
impossible to rehearse competently, if one cannot

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

remove the eye from the printed page. This is
equally true of performances. At the concert, the
conductor who keeps his nose deeply buried in the
score cannot expect to dominate his men so com
pletely as the one who is liberated of score and can
focus his entire attention upon the players.

This, it should be stated emphatically to avoid any
misconceptions, does not imply that conducting from
memory is an indispensable requirement. As a mat
ter of fact, conducting from memory can become a
very pernicious practise, as I shall point out in a
later chapter. Many great conductors realize this
and, although they know a work from one cover to
the other with marvelous thoroughness, they prefer
to keep the book in front of them at the concert
because its presence has a reassuring effect upon
them.

A keen ear is even more essential to the conductor
than a retentive memory. The conductor must be
sensitive to different sonorities and tone-colors and,
even in climactic passages of great complexity, the
ear of the conductor should be sufficiently acute to
hear every part of the orchestra clearly, and to be
able to recognize that every section is giving voice to
the necessary quality and style required for proper
balance. Moreover, the conductor must be sharp
enough to detect the slightest defect in performance.

96

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

A slight change in the rhythmic figure, an almost
imperceptible slur of a phrase, the slightest change of
dynamics by any one section of performers should
strike the conductor as forcefully as a hammer-blow.
When we discuss Toscanini we shall see that this is
one of his most powerful assets as a conductor his
ability to hear clearly every instrument in the orches
tral maze as though it were a performance of a solo.

Almost as important to the conductor as a keen
mind and a penetrating ear is versatility. The dif
ference between the genuinely great and the second-
rate conductor is very often precisely this ability of
the former to play many styles and schools of music
with equal effectiveness. The supremely great con
ductor is essentially a chameleon, changing with
every work he conducts : it is only the conductor of
lesser stature who is a specialist in one or two styles
alone and who in all other styles twists the music
to conform to his temperament. It is this, I feel
strongly, which keeps Richard Strauss from the
ranks of truly immortal conductors. In Mozart
(who can ever forget his sparkling, magical rendi
tion of Cosi fan tutte which, for many years has
been the crowning artistic event of the summer fes
tivals in Munich?) he stands with Toscanini and
Muck and Nikisch. But in the works of other com
posers his baton loses its charm and exquisite

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

perfection and his Wagner, supposedly his second
war-horse, is oversentimentalized and overrefined to
give a curiously Mozartean conception of the Wag-
nerian music-drama. 1

The great conductor can adapt his personality
with pliancy so that he can perform a classic
symphony of Haydn and Mozart, a romantic sym
phony of Schumann or Schubert, a tone-poem of
Richard Strauss and an atonal piece by Schonberg
with equal felicitousness, and in the explicit manner
that these different composers require. In playing
Mozart, the conductor must be able to retain the clas
sic line, the clean orchestration, the exquisite grace
and delicacy without oversentimentalization of
melodic lines and overburdening the fragile sonori
ties. In romantic works, he must suddenly forget
his restraint and poise and become glowingly effu
sive and poetical. And in the moderns, he must be
able to give apt expression to the dynamic harmonic
schemes of the rebels. I am not suggesting that the
greatest conductors of our day can, play everything
equally well; even the greatest possess a fatal Achil
les' heels. But their range is invariably plastic and
can span many styles and different schools.

Another infallible sign of the great conduc-

iThe writer recalls, particularly, a strangely distorted perform
ance of Tristan which he heard in Munich under Strauss.

98

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

tor one which has never been sufficiently stressed
by writers on this subject is his ability to retain his
freshness and enthusiasm for a musical work even if
he has conducted it a lifetime; the great conductor
will never permit familiarity to make him less strin
gent and exacting in the preparation of a score. The
really great conductor will rehearse Beethoven's
Fifth Symphony or the Pathetique of Tschaikovsky
with as much zest, passion and attention to detail as
though it were an altogether new work. Too many
conductors, who lack the divine spark, are tempted
to become lax and disinterested in rehearsing a piece
of music they have performed hundreds of times
and although in their early performances of these
compositions they revealed enormous talent and
imagination, innumerable repetitions have robbed
them of their enthusiasm with the result that their
performances tend to become somewhat humdrum.
This, to a great degree, is precisely the fault of
Artur Bodanzky, the distinguished conductor of
German opera at the Metropolitan Opera House.
Although originally Bodanzky's performances of
Wagner were distinguished by their vitality and
freshness, continual repetitions have stripped
Bodanzky of his former zest for the music with the
result that, after many years, each performance of
Wagner under Bodanzky became mere routine, leth-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

argic and stereotyped. Mr. Bodanzky, I have
always felt, is a much more talented conductor than
his performances at the Metropolitan would lead us
to believe ; and those who recall his remarkable work
with the Society of Friends of Music burdened as
he was by a very inadequate and tired orchestra
can vouch that, confronted with an unfamiliar work,
Mr. Bodanzky often possesses a very potent and
eloquent baton.

In conclusion, it should be added that a conductor
should always have a very clear conception of his
interpretation of each musical work, and should not
be satisfied until his performances achieve a full
realization of it. He should have a broad vision, the
capacity of seeing a work as a whole and not as a sum
of so many parts ; too many conductors concentrate
so forcefully upon details that they fail completely to
present a work as a coherent unity. He should be
able to impose such discipline upon his orchestra that
he can bring it to a point of technical efficiency where
he can play upon it as though it were an inanimate
instrument. Finally, he should possess a vibrant,
dominating personality which, with no effort, can
command obedience and respect from a hundred
men; he should, as Berlioz has so aptly written, have
an inward fire to warm his men and a force of
impulse to excite them.

100

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

3.

In analyzing the technique of conducting we learn
that the designation of tempo., and coincidentally
rhythm, is still as it has been in the past the most
important function of the conductor. "When a
conductor's tempo is wrong," Edvard Grieg once
said, "everything else he does is wrong." It should
not be assumed that designating the tempo and
rhythm is quite so elementary a task as it may appear
to the casual eye. In modern scores where the tempo
changes incessantly, where complicated cross-
rhythms and polyrhythms are frequent intruders,
designating the tempo and the rhythm with clarity
and firmness becomes very exacting work which
requires a keen ear, an alert mind, a decisive baton,
and a feeling for tempo and rhythm which is almost
instinctive.

This instinctive feeling for tempo and rhythm can
be one of the strongest tools in the technical equip
ment of the conductor. Time, after all, is something
essentially intangible and relative; a profound fac
ulty is required to divine precisely what a composer
had in mind when he designated Andante con moto
or Allegretto. To conductors like Toscanini, Wein-
gartner or Muck, a feeling for the exact tempo and
for precise rhythm is something so deeply ingrained

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

that it is as much of a sense as hearing or seeing. To
such conductors Allegretto in 2/4 time will always
retain precisely the same pace irrespective of what
composition they perform or when; time to these con
ductors is no longer something relative but absolute
and certain, and each note in a rhythmic figure how
ever complicated will be given its exact value.

A conductor with a meticulous sense for tempo
and rhythm is the backbone of every great orchestral
performance; the orchestra, under a distinct and
infallible beat, can play with self-confidence and
assurance, with decisiveness, clarity and accuracy.
Such a conductor will not permit his beat to slacken
unnecessarily in slow movements (even a conductor
as great as Bruno Walter will frequently allow his
beat to relent beyond the demands of the score in a
lyrical passage), or to accelerate unconsciously in
fast ones ; always will a rigid balance be maintained.
And in complex rhythmic passages there will never
be slurring of notes or uneven time values, but the
relationship between one note and the next will
always be exquisitely maintained.

The great conductor will rarely take liberties with
the tempo or rhythmic figure designated in the score,
although, to be sure, a certain amount of elasticity
will always be present; it is only the untalented con
ductor who will completely disregard the designa-

102

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

tion in the score and will twist the tempo into
distorted contours and remould the rhythm in order
to bring new effectiveness to a thrice-familiar sym
phony. For this reason, the great conductor is very-
sparing in his use of tempo rubato 2 Rubato is a
marvelously potent tool in the hand of the conductor
to heighten effects in the score but only if used
with the utmost discretion. The conductors who
know how to use it with discrimination, without
twisting the performance of a musical work out of
shape, are a handful in number. More often, con
ductors use rubato indiscriminately. Felix Wein-
gartner devoted many pages in his monograph, Uber
das Dirigiren, to its abuse in the hands of third-rate
conductors, pointing out how artificial effects
through exaggerated tempi is the persistent ruin of
the performances of so many conductors who had
failed to learn that the rubato is dangerous as well as
effective.

In considering tempo, it is not out of place to
speak of baton technique, which is a much more sig
nificant phase of orchestral conducting than the lay
man suspects. Great performances are, not only
the result of efficient manual manipulations at

2 According to Bekker's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, tempo
rubato is defined as: "Stolen, robbed the deviation from strict time
giving one note or phrase greater, and others less, duration than the
signature calls for."

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTVTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

the concert; and many mediocre conductors are
supremely efficient in their technique of the baton.
But it is an element whose importance no significant
conductor will underestimate. Baton technique
should not merely be brought to a point of efficiency
where it can outline tempi and clarify rhythms with
the utmost of ease and lucidity; the great conductor
likewise realizes that it can be utilized to heighten
effects, etch in nuances and solidify balances while
the performance is in progress. And it can have a
powerful psychological effect on the men as they
play. Elaborate gestures are not essential ; as a mat
ter of fact, the greatest conductors of the past and
present have been most sparing in their movements.
A beat can be given decisively with the slightest
motions of the wrist ; and, in giving cues for entrance,
the long-experienced conductor will be most eco
nomical, enlisting them only for the more complex
pages. But what is equally important is the fact
that with slight suggestions of the hands, it is pos
sible for the great conductor to get telling results
during the performance. The electric incisiveness of
Koussevitzky's stroke often instils a marvelous
energy in his men, and they play with much greater
vitality than they would under a less stinging beat ;
Stokowski and Felix von Weingartner often draw a
sensuous legato with the beautiful sweep of the left

104

WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

hand; and those who have heard Karl Muck's per
formance of Beethoven's Coriolanus Overture speak
of the tremendous opening he produced with his
powerful sashweight heat in the first bars of the
music. Musicians in modern symphony-orchestras
will tell you that a conductor can often inspire and
electrify them with his gestures, or else if he is
sloppy and inexperienced in his baton technique
will succeed only in obtaining from them lethargic
playing.

Next in importance to tempo, comes balance. An
orchestra is, after all, composed of many component
parts. To blend these various parts into a marvelous
tonal unity in which each part is given precisely the
emphasis it requires to be fused harmoniously with
all the other parts is a task which only a few conduc
tors can achieve with consummate success. Balance
is as much of a problem in so fragile a framework as
a Haydn or a Mozart symphony, as it is in the gran
diose tonal structures of Wagner, Mahler, Richard
Strauss or Shostakowitch. In inferior perform
ances, the brass and tympani invariably thunder the
other parts of the orchestra out of existence in cli
mactic passages. In great performances, however,
there will always be found a vitreous transparency,
a crystal-clear distinctness in which the subsidiary
sections can be heard as clearly as the major ones, in

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

which there is not one but many voices, each one
clearly discernible. It was this that Toscanini was
striving for when, at a rehearsal, he made his pene
trating, and now-famous observation: "In fortissimo
passages," he advised his men, "you should be able
to hear the next man; in pianissimo you should
almost be unable to hear yourself."

4.

I have thus far not spoken of the art of interpre
tation which, after all, is the ultimate goal of the
conductor the end for which technique is only the
means. It is apparent that the great conductor must
not only be a master of every phase of the technique
of conducting, but he must possess an exquisite bal
ance between emotion and intellect, he must be
endowed with a deep poetry, a sensitivity to beauty
and a cultural outlook that make it possible for him
to penetrate deeply into the heart of a musical work
and bring its inmost messages, and most latent emo
tions, to the surface,

As I have already suggested, interpretation of a
musical work does not as so many young conductors
delude themselves into believing consist in distor
tion of tempo and rhythm, caressing of the melodic
line until it becomes cloying, exaggeration of dynam
ics, etc. which curve a musical work into a shape

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WHAT IS CONDUCTING?

altogether different from the original intentions of
the composer* Interpretation, rather, consists in
giving expression to the inner voices of the music, in
making the work flow easily, freely and spontane
ously, in endowing the melody with freshness, youth
and a continuity of line and, finally, in performing a
work with a broad understanding of its wholeness,
and evolving each effect and nuance so that they do
not obtrude from the general plan of the whole.

Interpreting a musical work, in short, does not
mean that the conductor should bring to it a new
body and face, but rather to give expression to the
slightest intention of the composer, and to bring to
life his most elusive dream. It was a very eminent
musician it may have been Vincent D'Indy who
once said that the supremely great conductor is the
one who has succeeded in bringing out in his per
formance exactly what is on the printed page that,
no more and no less.

107

BOOK II
THE FIRST DYNASTY

VON BULOW HANS RICHTER
MAHLER

1.

IN OCTOBER 1880, Hans von Biilow one of
the most distinguished piano virtuosos of his time
was appointed Hofmusikintendant by the Duke
of Meiningen. It was in this post, which included
the direction of the Meiningen Orchestra, that von
Biilow virtually revolutionized the art of conducting.
He was no novice at the stick: As early as 1864 he
had been the principal conductor at the Royal Opera
House in Munich where he gave distinguished per
formances of Tristan wid Isolde and Die Meister-
singer. But at Meiningen where for five years he
assumed sovereign command over the orchestra of
fifty players he succeeded in definitely establishing
conducting as a complex and an important art.

When he entered upon his tenure in Meiningen,
von Biilow possessed many firm convictions about
the art of conducting. He believed, first of all, that
a conductor should not lift a baton unless the work
he is performing is indelibly engraved on his mind.

Ill

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

"A score should be in a conductor's head, not the con
ductor's head in the score/ 5 was one of the aphorisms
he was fond of quoting and requoting. Aided by a
prodigious memory, von Billow studied each work
minutely before conducting it, and was the first con
ductor to make a periodic practice of conducting
without the aid of a score in front of him. Another
equally rigid principle in von Billow's personal con-
ductorial philosophy was that the director of an
orchestra should be a martinet, dominating tyranni
cally over his men and completely subjugating them
to his will. Finally, it was his belief that in the inter
pretation of music a conductor should not be
enslaved by the printed page but should permit his
temperament and personality to shape the perform
ance; that, far from adhering rigidly to the score, a
conductor should take as much liberty with the music,
in tempo, phrasing and dynamics, as is essential to
give the work renewed effectiveness and a new lease
upon life.

We are told by those who heard the Meiningen
Orchestra perform under Hans von Billow that this
conductor accomplished something approaching a
miracle with his organization. Accustomed to play
lackadaisically and frequently incorrectly, this band
underwent a complete metamorphosis under von
Billow's baton. His dictatorial mastery over his

112

HANS VON BULOW

VON BiJLOW RICHTER MAHLER

men soon succeeded in bringing a mechanical effi
ciency to the orchestra which was without parallel at
the time. And the careful preparation and study, as
well as the enormous musicianship,, with which von
Billow approached each of his performances brought
to the music he directed new lustre and finer quali
ties. When, therefore, von Billow and the Meinin-
gen Orchestra toured throughout Germany, it cre
ated an unprecedented sensation among audiences
who had never before so fully realized the importance
of a conductor. Musicians marvelled at the com
plete dominance which von Billow's baton exercised
over the orchestra, now calling from it the most
subtle effects, and now drawing tempestuous cli
maxes with a hand that never faltered; they com
mented endlessly on the technical efficiency of a
musical machine that seemed to recognize no techni
cal problems and which functioned smoothly, almost
inevitably, under the firm and compelling beat of his
direction; and they admired the new, bright face that
von Billow's interpretations brought to thrice-
familiar classics.

Though von Billow was a great artist, whose sin
cerity and genuineness were never doubted, he could
also be spectacular in his conducting. His perform
ances invariably wrenched effects from the music in
his incessant attempt to emphasize his great indi-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

viduality effects that completely revolutionized the
original message of the composer; in his valuable
monograph, Uber das 'Diriglren, Felix Weingartner
indicates some of the amazing liberties that von
Billow took with the tempi and phrasing of Bee
thoven's symphonies. His gestures were extrava
gantly elaborate, directed more at the audience than
at the men. Circus-tricks, however, were also an
indispensable element in his art. When he repeat
edly had his orchestra perform several classic sym
phonies from memory, 1 he resorted to merely one of
the many stunts in his copious repertoire. He never
forgot that there was an audience behind his back.
In a particularly effective passage he would fre
quently turn sharply around while conducting in
order to notice his audience's approval. And, like a
celebrated conductor of our day, he was irremediably
addicted to making speeches before his performances
and very often it was not particularly clear what
was the cause for the speech, nor what constituted its
essential message* One example will suffice. In a
concert in Hamburg which took place shortly after
the death of Wilhelm I a concert in which von

the Winter of 1934, Eugene Goossens revived the trick by
having the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra perform the Wagner
Meistersinger Overture from memory. This fact was greatly pub
licized, without mention being made of the fact that, far from being
a radical Innovation, it was an almost everyday feat with the
Meiningen Orchestra under von Btilow.

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VON BULOW RICHTER MAHLER

Billow was to conduct Beethoven, and Brahms was
to conduct his own music von Billow suddenly
turned to his audience before beginning to conduct
and inexplicably elaborated upon the genius of Felix
Mendelssohn, comparing him to Wilhelm I; then,
just as mysteriously and irrelevantly, heaping praise
upon the genius of Johannes Brahms. "Mendel
ssohn is dead; the Emperor Wilhelm is dead"; von
Billow whined at the conclusion of his speech. "Bis
marck lives ; Brahms lives." And then, impetuously,
he wheeled sharply around, and his baton descended
for the opening bars of Beethoven's Eighth Sym
phony.

Volatile by temperament, unpredictable in his
whims and moods, eccentric in his mannerisms,
strongly addicted to exhibitionism, and profoundly
gifted as a musician, Hans von Billow was essentially
a theatrical conductor of the twentieth century. His
influence was far-reaching; he was the all-powerful
force in establishing conducting as an art. But, it
must be confessed, von Billow has likewise been a
pernicious influence. His method of tampering with
the score has created something of a tradition among
German conductors which persists until this very
day. The frequent use among so many modern
German conductors of "Luftpausen" momentary
pauses inserted into the texture of a composition to

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

herald the approach of a significant passage and
much of the exaggeration and overstatement that
appear in so many performances of classic sym
phonies can be traced directly to von Billow. Felix
Weingartner has told in his monograph on conduct
ing of an occasion when he heard a performance of
Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony in Germany in
which the conductor inserted a "Luftpause" in the
second movement breaking the entire continuity of
the music. "After the performance," wrote Wein
gartner, "I tried to convince the conductor of the
wrongness of his interpretation, pointing out to him
that just as it would be impossible for a rippling
brook suddenly to be made to stand still so it was
unnatural to interrupt arbitrarily the flow of the
music at this point. To my astonishment I got this
answer: *I really don't like it myself, but the people
here are so accustomed to it from von Billow that I
must take it the same way. 5 " With many other
conductors, it is not merely a case of yielding to the
desires of the public or orchestra-men, but rather a
firm conviction on their part that the tradition estab
lished by von Billow in the performance of Beetho
ven or Brahms is the only true one, and must be
adhered to rigidly.

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VON EULOW RICHTER MAHLER

2.

Although the art of conducting took seven-league
strides under Hans von Billow., it became integrated
only with Hans Richter.

Hans Eichter was Wagner's personal choice as
the conductor of his music-dramas. Combining a
phenomenal musicianship (it was said that Richte*
could play any number of orchestral instruments
competently) , an infallible ear, a retentive memory
and a severe artistic integrity, Hans Richter
appeared to Wagner as the Moses to lead his music-
dramas out of the sterile desert of humdrum per
formances to which, until then, they had for the most
part been subjected. After living with Wagner in
Lucerne (1866) where, in the morning, he would
copy the score of the Meistersinger and, in the after
noon, bring relaxation to the master by performing
for him on the organ or piano, Richter served an
all-important apprenticeship with the baton by con
ducting opera in Pesth from 1871 until 1875. His
true stature, however, did not become fully apparent
until 1876 when he was called upon to inaugurate
the first Bayreuth festival.

Short, stubby, altogether unimpressive in appear
ance wearing his inseparable skull-cap Hans
Richter did not altogether create a crushing impres-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

sion at the first rehearsal in Bayreuth when he
clambered up to his stand and, in a nervous voice,
began to fire the first of his instructions at the men.
But it was not long before the players realized force
fully that he was a personality with whom they had
to reckon. The fact that he never referred to the
printed page and revealed a bewildering familiarity
with every marking in the score made the musicians
look up and take notice of the little man in front of
them. Moreover, there was no fumbling or groping
as far as the conductor was concerned during the
rehearsal. Richter knew precisely what effects he
desired as though he had performed the work a
lifetime, and knew how to explain himself clearly
and succinctly to his men. When there was a doubt
in the mind of a musician as how a phrase should be
performed, Richter would often snatch the instru
ment from his hands and show him. This conductor
seemed to know everything, seemed to be able to do
everything in the realm of music. 2 And he was

2 Franz Frldberg, a personal friend of Richter, has left us several
amazing lines about Hans Richter as a music-student. "Was there
no trombonist, Richter laid down his horn and seized the trombone;
next time it would be the oboe, the bassoon, or the trumpet, and then
he would pop up among the violins. I saw him once manipulating
the contra-bass, and on the kettledrums he was unsurpassed. When
we the Conservatory Orchestra under Hellraesberger's leading, once
performed a mass in the Church of the Invalides, Richter sang. How
he did sing! ... I learned to know him on that day, moreover, as
an excellent organist,"

If this was true of a mere pupil, what then could one say about the
mature musician?

118

Brown Brothers

HANS RICHTER

YON BULOW RICHTER MAHLER

mercilessly despotic. The minutest phrases were
repeated again and again before they satisfied him
with the shape they finally assumed. To players
formerly accustomed to listless, apathetic, uncertain
direction, Hans Richter's minute fastidiousness to
details was something of a revelation. And there
were thirty-six rehearsals (a rehearsal consumed an
entire day!) before this exacting conductor pro
nounced the King des Niebeliwgen ready for per
formance.

But what most aroused the musicians to wonder,
at those early rehearsals in Bayreuth, was the manner
in which by some inexplicable magic of personality
Hans Richter elevated them to spheres of great
ness which they had never before known. This droll,
chubby fellow who, at first sight, presented an
almost ludicrous aspect when his beard and baton
beat time together in rhythmic accompaniment no
longer seemed so comical when he was conducting.
He was like a dynamo, and with his magnificent fire
he converted the efforts of his musicians into electric
energy. And when, in a particularly inspiring pas
sage the awakening of Briinnhilde by Siegfried's
kiss, the dismissal of Briinnhilde from Valhalla or
the cataclysmic music that accompanies Siegfried's
bi er he would stand in front of them, his muscles
tense and drawn, his eyes aflame as though they had

119

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

been pierced by lightning, singing half -audibly the
principal orchestral part, the musicians felt an
altogether new inspiration infused into them. The
men, at those initial performances at Bayreuth,
repeatedly confessed that Richter's personality at
those rehearsals had the effect of uplifting and
intoxicating them as they played.

There could be little doubt that the high artistic
success of that first Bayreuth festival was principally
the result of Hans Richter's genius. "If Napoleon's
presence with his troops was worth, as Wellington
said, an army corps of 20,000 men, what is the value
in an orchestra of this emperor of conductors 1"
asked a critic in the London Daily Telegraph (May
9, 1879). "We cannot appraise it, but we can feel
the influence of Richter's supreme mastery; of his
all-embracing coup d'oeil, of his perfect resource
and, not less, the confidence with which he must in
fuse his followers. Hans Richter is a 'conductor' of
verity, and we are glad to have him amongst us as an
example."

Bayreuth was the inauguration not merely of a
world-famous festival but also of a magnificent
career for its conductor. In London, where took
place the enormously successful "Richter concerts/'
the conductor emphatically established himself for
his public as something of an idol. It was quite

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VON BtJLOW RICHTER MAHLER

true as many of his contemporaries commented
that in new music Hans Richter's baton was not
very eloquent. He became bewilderingly self-
conscious and pedantic and it is told authoritatively
that when he first conducted Brahms' First Sym
phony, Brahms himself viciously attacked the con
ductor for his stilted and humdrum tempi. But in
familiar territories Beethoven and Wagner par
ticularly Riehter was an unquestionable monarch.

The fact that he conducted an entire historical
series of orchestral concerts, "From Bach to
Brahms," entirely from memory, first aroused the
awe and admiration of the audiences. Richter's un-
ostentatiousness in gesturing he employed an inci
sive beat in which no movement of the arm was more
elaborate than the pressing of the left hand against
the heart in tender passages his sincerity, integrity
and humility further endeared him as a personality.
His exquisitely refined performances in the classics
(it was apparent even to the layman that under his
baton the orchestra was completely transfigured, and
played as though it were under some magic spell!)
incited the wonder of all music-lovers.

Hans Riehter became in London something of a
legendary figure, and his name inspired myth and
adulation. The conductor-idol was now an institu
tion in musical life.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

3.

It was with Gustav Mahler that the art of con
ducting was brought to the very threshold of our
day. The last word in conductorial autocracy, Mah
ler was a vicious martinet with the baton. Supremely
sure of himself 3 magnificently confident that his con
ception of the great musical works was the only true
one and burdened by a savage conscience that
would never permit him to tolerate any compromises
with his ideals Mahler insisted upon being complete
lord over his musical domain. He demanded full
dictatorial powers wherever he raised his baton.
When he was the conductor in Prague, he resigned
peremptorily from a very profitable position will
ing to accept unemployment and poverty only be
cause his commands were not followed out to the
letter. Several years later, he resigned once again
from a highly lucrative post in Vienna because
Francis Joseph, the emperor, insisted that a favorite
tenor of his whom Mahler had pensioned because
he was too old to fulfil his position satisfactorily
be reinstated. And Mahler could be as tyrannical
with audiences as with his directors and musicians,
and whenever their conduct disturbed the perform
ance he would turn sharply around on the platform

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VON BULOW RICHTER MAHLER

and give them a thorough verbal lashing that was not
soon to be forgotten.

Musicians who played under Mahler tell us that
his magnetic eyes, his square jaw, his lashing tongue
and his stinging beat instilled fear in the heart of
everyone who sang or played under him. Paul
Stefan, quoting J. B. Foerster, informs us that "his
solo rehearsals with singers were almost dreaded.
. . . With inexorable severity and the fiery zeal
that always possessed him, he demanded the utmost
exactitude in the rhythm of the music. . . ." And
yet, though the singers and musicians feared him,
and were terrified at his anger, they were at the same
time exhilarated and inspired by his enormous ideal
ism. There was no mistaking Mahler's glowing
nympholepsy. When he first assumed the conductor-
ship of the Budapest Opera, he came to the first
rehearsal with the following plea on his lips : "Let
us dedicate ourselves heart and soul to the proud
task that is ours. Unwavering fulfilment of respon
sibilities by each individual and complete subjection
of self to the common interest let this be the motto
we inscribe on our banner. Expect no favoritism
from me. If I may pledge myself to one thing to
day it is this : I shall endeavor to be an example to
you in zeal and devotion and duty." Conductors
before Mahler, and after him, have made pretty

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

speeches on approaching a new assignment; but
none ever meant them more deeply than he. He
was always a flaming example to his performers of
zeal and devotion and duty; for every ounce of
energy he expected his musicians to expend, he con
tributed a pound. His men always realized this and,
for this reason, their fear of him was mingled with
enormous admiration and affection.

Mahler was a firm believer in accomplishing every
thing at the rehearsal, and leaving nothing to chance
at the performance. His rehearsals, therefore, were
undescribably exacting, and he worked his musicians
until they were limp with fatigue. At the concert,
he would permit the music to progress by itself,
whipped on by the fiery magnetism of his baton as
he yielded to something of a delirium which made
him altogether oblivious to the artists in front of him
or the audience behind his back.

In discussing Mahler's many extraordinary quali
ties as a conductor, Paul Stefan informs us that he
"had an aim which only Wagner before him had
sought with such tenacity to attain: Distinctness.
The experience of many years had given him un
erring knowledge of the capabilities of every instru
ment, of the possibilities of every score. Distinct
ness, for him, was an exact ratio of light and shade.
His crescendi, his storms, growing from bar to bar,

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VON BULOW RICHTER MAHLER

now taking breath for a moment, now crashing into
fortissimo; his climaxes, obtained by the simplest
means; his whispering pianissimo; his instinct for
the needful alternation of tranquillity and agitation;
his sense of sharpness of the melodic line ; all these
were elements which equally went to make up his
power. Added to this were his outward attention to
and inward hearing of details, hidden secondary
parts and nuances which others hardly noticed in the
score, and lastly a hypnotic power of will over all
who had to hear and obey."

Perhaps the severest criticism that has been
levelled at Mahler as conductor was the liberties
which he, like his contemporary von Billow, took
with whatever work he performed. He not only
remodelled orchestration when he sincerely felt that
it was defective, but he also reconstructed an entire
plan of a work so that it acquired a new personality
and character than the ones conceived by the com
poser. He was viciously opposed to tradition.
"There is no such thing as tradition," he once said,
"only genius and stupidity." As a result, he per
sistently attempted to improve upon the work he
was conducting, rather than follow in the footsteps
of other conductors; and, it must be added, not
always did he succeed. For this idiosyncrasy, Mah-

125

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

ler suffered considerable abuse at the hands of con
temporary critics.

However, even when the necessary subtractions
are made, Mahler remains one of the geniuses of the
baton. Even his most critical listener had to confess
that in Mozart and Wagner he was supreme.
Wherever he came to conduct, he left his unmistak
able fingerprints in the form of performances of
electrifying quality. We are told by his contem
poraries that even when he was compelled, during
his career, to conduct orchestras of a third-rate qual
ity, his genius ultimately transformed them, and he
emerged with magnificent, unforgettable perform
ances.

"There are no bad orchestras ; there are only bad
conductors." No one proved this more emphatically
than Gustav Mahler himself.

126

II

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

1.

**TTTE IS the chosen one among the elect,"
1 I Franz Liszt once wrote. He was speaking
of Artur Nikisch Nikisch, a name that was like a
flame across the musical sky for more than three
decades. Artur Nikisch, often called "the incom
parable," who, at the height of his fame, was subject
to such adulation that even his fingertips and the
romantic crop of his hair were rhapsodized in poetry;
who brought to music his hot Hungarian blood and
made it boil with tempestuous emotions.

Considered by many, one of the supremely great
conductors of his time, he was likewise one of the
most fascinating personalities to step upon the con
cert-stage. When he stood in front of his orchestra
he was a portrait of elegance. True, nature had
handicapped him; he was short and solid and, there
fore, not altogether impressive at first glance. But
his grace. and carriage and manner soon atoned for
his physical shortcomings. His elegantly curved
back, his soft poetical and romantic eyes, his majestic

127

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

gestures were all subject for romanticizations. The
delicately poised hands, encircled at the wrists by
lace-cuffs that puffed somewhat foppishly from out
the sleeves of his dinner coat, were world-famous, and
frequently commented upon. The elegance of his
baton! "The expressive suppleness of his stick/ 5
commented that celebrated English conductor,
Adrian C. Boult, "has been an example to many
conductors. It seemed part of himself, and ap
peared to grow out of his thumb as if made of flesh
and blood." And his lambent readings of musicial
masterpieces splashed with the intense color of his
personality aroused the wildest enthusiasm.

As a child in Hungary (where he was born in
1855), Nikisch disclosed a most precocious bent for
music. At the age of three he could evoke agreeable
tunes from the piano, and at seven he could write
from memory piano arrangements of well-known
Rossini overtures. When he entered the Vienna
Conservatory (he was then only a boy of eleven) ,
he revealed so great an aptitude for his studies that
he was soon placed in the highest class, to rub elbows
and exchange lessons with students ten years his
senior.

While studying at the Conservatory, Nikisch had
the opportunity to play several times under the
baton of Richard Wagner and to learn what fiery

128

ARTUR NIKISCH

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

zeal and conscientious art can accompany the baton.
His first contact with Wagner was at a concert of
the Vienna Conservatory Orchestra to which the
great composer had been invited as guest. After the
concert, three students of the orchestra were elected
to present the master with a goblet; and by one of
those inexplicable curiosities of Fate, all three boys
later became world-famous Wagnerian conductors
Emil Paur, Anton Seidl, and Artur Nikisch. In
1872, Nikisch performed a second time under Wag
ner, this time at Bayreuth, in a performance of Bee
thoven's Ninth Symphony which commemorated the
laying of the cornerstone of the festival-theatre.

When Nikisch reached man's estate, he left the
Conservatory to become a member of the Vienna
Hofkapelle where for three years he received a rigor
ous and valuable training under such conductors as
Liszt and Brahms. Young and plastic, he was con
siderably influenced, no doubt, by the passionately
warm interpretations of Liszt and the romantic ex
pressions of Brahms; and it is more than probable
that his future romantic outlook on musical master
pieces stems from this apprenticeship.

It was at this time that Felix Otto Dessoff, a con
ductor in Vienna, befriended Nikisch and became so
attracted by this young man's unmistakable musical
gifts that he wrote to Angelo Newmann (the impres-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

sario, who devoted himself so passionately to the
cause of Wagnerian music-drama) recommending
the young musician in no uncertain terms. The re
sult was that, in 1877, Nikisch came to the Leipzig
Opera as chorus-master. Here, once again, his
amazing talent won many devoted friends among
those high in power; his incredible memory which
seemed to remember every page of the Wagnerian
scores, and his often penetrating suggestions to the
conductors on matters of interpretation aroused con
siderable admiration and comment. It was decided,
therefore, to give the young man an opportunity to
prove his mettle, and with the written consent of
Newmann who, at the time, was away from Leip
zig Nikisch was assigned to conduct one perform
ance of Tannhailser.

The exhilaration that Nikisch must have experi
enced in seeing a life-long dream suddenly fulfilled
was soon enough to be smothered. The orchestra-
men, humiliated that they were soon to be compelled
to take orders from a boy of twenty-three, vigorously
opposed the forthcoming performances and grum-
blingly announced that, should the management
press the issue, they would all resign. Nikisch's
great opportunity seemed to hang by a single hair
when Angelo Newmann's instinctive diplomacy and
tact came to the rescue. Informed of the precarious

130

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

situation at his opera-house, Newmann wired from
Vienna to the orchestra that if it would permit the
young man to rehearse merely the overture, it could
then decide whether it wished him to conduct the
remainder of the opera or not ; and the decision would
he rigidly upheld by the management.

This seemed to he an equitable arrangement, and
the orchestra entered the rehearsal determined to
resign as a body if the management did not adhere
to the bargain. What followed at the first rehearsal
was the miracle which, every once in a while, per
formers of symphony-orchestras witness. Nikisch
brought a new quality and depth to the music; under
his magic baton, the work was suffused with a glow
and warmth, tenderness and magic which it now
seemed to possess for the first time. The rehearsal
continued for two hours, as the overture underwent
the microscopic dissection of a keen intellect and a
sensitive heart. Then the men could restrain them
selves no longer. They rose and cheered Nikisch,
and some of the older men in the orchestra who
had never before realized that this music possessed
such subtle voices had tears in their eyes. The
former rebellion now seemed strangely absurd to
the orchestra-men; and when, that afternoon, they
came for a second rehearsal they were determined
to work their fingers to the bone for this new, be-

131

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

wildering conductor whose work bore so indisputably
the mark of true genius.

Artur Nikisch's sensational debut came on Feb
ruary 11, 1878. His triumph with each succeeding
appearance was so emphatic that, the following
year, he supplanted Josef Sucher as principal con
ductor of the Leipzig Opera.

The reign of Artur JSTikisch was soon to begin. It
was not long before his elegant appearance, his in
stinctive flair for showmanship and his genius were
to arouse the adoration of his public in Leipzig.
When, in 1879, he performed Schumann's Fourth
Symphony no less a critic than Clara Schumann be
came rhapsodic in her praise of Nlkisch's art. "If
only Robert could have heard your performance,"
she told the conductor, "He never realized that
the work could sound this wayl" When Nikisch
rehearsed a Brahms symphony, revising certain
aspects of the score which he felt required improve
ment, Brahms cried out : "Is it possible, did I really
compose this?" Then, when JSTikisch had completed
his rehearsal, Brahms came to him, his face beaming,
and clenched the conductor's hands in his own. "You
do it all quite different, but you are right. It simply
must be so!"

And Nikisch could be sensational not only with
magnificent performances. He knew as well the

132

"THE INCOMPARAELE NIKISCH"

value of showmanship. And so, at one time (1885)
he conducted unfamiliar works by Liszt from mem
ory, creating a sensation with this feat; and at
another performance he suddenly interrupted a
work to scold a lady in the front row for staring at
him during the performance. He was meticulous
about his personal appearance, and always fas
tidious that his movements should possess symmetry,
poise and elegance. As a result, Nikisch aroused the
imagination and inspired discussion as few conduc
tors before him succeeded in doing. In a bewilder-
ingly brief period, he was accepted by both the
general public and the foremost musicians of the
time as one of the great conductors of the period.

"The Leipzig Opera may well be proud of its
gifted young Kapellmeister," wrote Tschaikovsky
in his day-book, in 1887. "His conducting has
nothing in common with the effective and, in its own
way, inimitable manner of Hans von Bulow. In the
same degree in which the latter is nervous, restless
and effective through the eccentric methods he em
ploys, Herr Nikisch is quiet, economical in regard
to superfluous movement but extraordinarily com
manding, mighty and thoroughly self-controlled.
He does not merely direct, but yields to a mysterious
spell. One hardly notices him, for he makes no
effort to attract attention to himself, and yet, never-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

TTTTTTtTttTTTTTTTTTTtfTfTffTTWTlTTTTTlTTTTTT.

theless, one feels that the orchestral body, like one
instrument, is in the hands of a remarkable master,
is thoroughly under his control, willing and submis

sive."

In 1889, Nikisch came to America for the first
time, to conduct the Boston Symphony Orchestra.
The technical efficiency of the orchestra so delighted
him that, at the first rehearsal, he cried out: "All I
have to do is to poetize!" And while he poetized
with singular eloquence for the next four seasons,
his full stature as an artist was not fully appreciated.
The audiences who, at first, crowded the hall to hear
his great performances soon cooled in their ardor,
and then became uninterested. There followed
numerous disagreements between conductor and
management, petty feuds and dissensions over the
artistic policy of the orchestra, hot clashes of tem
perament. Finally, Nikisch offered five thousand
dollars to be released from his contract. He returned
to Europe to accept the most important post
towards which an orchestra leader of the 'Nineties
could aspire. And it was in this position as the
conductor of the historic Leipzig Gewandhaus Or
chestra which he held with unprecedented glory until
the end of his life (1922) that Nikisch attained his
flaming reputation.

His reputation with the Gewandhaus soared and

134

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

swelled to such an extent during his first decade as
its conductor that when Nikisch returned to America
in 1912 in a nation-wide tour with the London
Symphony Orchestra it was no longer as an unap
preciated artist that he was accepted but as the most
glamorous conductor of the day. Newspapers spread
his picture across the front-page, speaking of "him as
the "$1,000 a night conductor." Poems were dedi
cated to him in the press :

Have you heard of Artur NiJcisch,
Of Ms poise and manner slicJcish. . . .

Legends were created about his phenomenal
memory (Nikisch conducted his American concerts
without a score), his profound musicianship (it was
rumored that he had helped many of the important
composers of the day in their most famous works!)
and his impressive personality. He was stopped in
the streets by sentimental admirers who would kiss
his hand; and at the concerts he could not escape
from the adulation of a mob that would embrace
him. And critics, formerly so indifferent, were
unable now to summon sufficient encomiums with
which to describe his magnificent art.

Such adulation and appreciation were to dog Nik-
isch's footsteps wherever he raised his baton. Not
only in Germany and America, but also in France,

135

THE MAN WITH THE EATON

England, Hungary and Austria he was accepted as
one of the immortal conductors of the day, to be
compared only to Karl Muck. That position he
held until his death. And there are still many
remembering the warm pulse that throbbed in his
performances who feel that, at his best, he was
truly "incomparable."

2.

It was Artur Nikisch's firm belief that music, far
from being an intellectual pleasure, should stir the
blood and quicken the heart-beat as wine does. A
conductor, he felt strongly, must approach a musical
work, not with classical aloofness, but with all the
passion and romanticism that he can summon to his
command. Thus Nikisch was at his greatest in per
forming Tschaikovsky and Liszt. During re
hearsals he would vigorously stamp his foot upon
the ground and cry out: "More fire, gentlemen,
more blood!" And with his powerful eye and bold
beat he would stir his men into an emotional inten
sity that would enable them to play with all the fire
that was within them.

It is for this reason that as critics pointed out
more than once the persistent use of rubato, and
sentimentalizations of the melodic content of a work,
were frequent with Nikisch. But, we are also in-

136

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

formed, Nikisch had such an exquisite sense for form
and design that he could reconstruct an entire work
to conform to his romantic interpretations, and al
ways did he maintain a marvelous balance among
the various sections of a composition. In works that
called for such romantic treatment, Nikisch was, no
doubt, "incomparable." The music under him
seemed to be infused with a new breath of life,
seemed to possess an altogether new soul as many
of the composers themselves have since testified.

Nikisch was a master in producing orchestral ef
fects. Dramatic passages under his hands stung and
lashed like a crackling whip. He could tear a
crescendo from the throat of his orchestra that would
burst upon the audience like a volcanic eruption. At
other moments he could reduce the orchestra to a
contemplative repose which never faltered under his
fingers. His pianissimo possessed a sensitivity that
never cracked under the strain of its fragility. His
tone could sing with a pure, glowing warmth.
Nikisch seemed able to cull every effect he desired
from the orchestra with the slightest gesture and
with the piercing expression of his eyes.

Moreover, Nikisch seemed to endow every work
he conducted even after a hundredth repetition
with youth and freshness and bright face. It was
said that he never read a work twice alike. In giving

137

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

a performance of a Beethoven or a Tschaikovsky
symphony or a Wagner fragment, which he had
played more times than he could count, he would
restudy the work for new effects and new ap
proaches, and thereby would invariably succeed in
retaining a marvelous spontaneity and enthusiasm
in his interpretation.

Always more interested in enthusiasm and fresh
ness of performance than in technical perfection,
Nikisch never was scrupulously thorough at the re
hearsal. He would explain his conception of a work
as a whole, would tersely explain his intentions to
his men, and would then go through random pas
sages of the score that, he felt, required special treat
ment. At the concerts he would complete his work.
He could accomplish miracles with the most frag
mentary rehearsals, because he required only a few
explanations to impart his intentions to the men
and because at the concert he could accomplish so
much with facial expressions, with manual gestures
and with the force of his personality. It gives us a
peculiarly illuminating insight into the importance
with which Nikisch regarded his work at the concert
when we understand that one of his most effective
methods was to exaggerate every effect of the score
at the rehearsal and then, at the concert, to pare

138

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

down his interpretation to the proper line and bal
ance.

Great though Nikisch was, it cannot be said that
he was without faults. His rigid conservatism deaf
ened him to the most important tendencies in the
music of his time, and his programs were too often
reactionary and stereotyped; it was only his friend
ship with Liszt and Brahms and Tschaikovsky that
brought their music to his concerts. Moreover,
Nikisch's musical tastes, it must be confessed, were
not of the purest. It was characteristic of his stand
ards that he should have given such exaggerated im
portance to the music of Tschaikovsky throughout
his entire career, and that he so persistently should
perform such shoddy music as Weber's Invitation to
the WaltZ; and the Hungarian rhapsodies, the Les
Preludes and the Mephisto Waltz of Liszt. Finally,
Nikisch's fiery romantic temperament and hot ro
mantic blood were strongly out of place in the classi
cal works of Haydn and Mozart. In his own
territory and his own territory was by no means
a limited one! Nikisch was of Gargantuan stature,
head and shoulders above the majority of the con
ductors of his time. It was only when he strayed to
foreign pastures that Nikisch proved that even a
conductor so great as he could have vital short
comings.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

3.

Much of Nikisch's enormous success in completely
subjugating his men to the will of his smallest finger,
arose from an instinctive tact which he possessed in
his relationship with them. Feeling with conviction
that he could derive the most felicitous results from
the orchestra if it were sympathetic to him, Nikisch
always treated his players with the utmost civility,
and with a great consideration for their individuality.
He could be the supreme diplomat. Never the dis
ciplinarian nor the unreasonable school teacher, he
had an uncanny ability in making the men believe
that they were playing their own interpretations
when they were, in truth, following out his intentions
to the letter. If any of the men disagreed with him
concerning his views on a certain phrase or a passage
he would, far from losing his temper, gently turn to
them and, confessing that there was much to be said
for their opinion, would add: "But, gentlemen,
listen just once more to my conception and you will
see how much more effective it really is 1" ; and by his
gentle but firm powers of persuasion he would al
ways bring his men to his camp. Or else, he would
tactfully revise their interpretations until, before
long, they became synonymous with his own. How
ever, in the performance of solo passages of sym-

140

"THE INCOMPARABLE NIKISCH"

phonies he always gave the player full liberty to
express his own personality and, although ready with
advice, he would never attempt to impose his own
will severely upon the performer ; on the contrary, he
would put down his baton and listen to the solo per
formance with the eager attention of an admirer.

Nikisch was unusually considerate at the rehearsal.
In difficult passages he was supremely patient with
mistakes, and it was well known that he rarely lost
his temper. When one of the players had an un
usually difficult passage, he would never glance in
his direction for fear of making him nervous. He
was rarely angry, rarely temperamental, and never
unreasonable. Seldom did he raise his voice. Only
infrequently, in the heat of rehearsing, he would
attempt to arouse his men by shouting his desires at
them excitedly and nervously. But even at such mo
ments, when the passage came to an end, he would
once again assume his customary poise and explain
to the men quietly and patiently how to improve
upon their performance.

And Nikisch could be unusually appreciative of
the efforts of his men. There were times when the
orchestra played with unusual brilliance or beauty at
the rehearsal. On such occasions, Nikisch would put
down his baton and listen to the playing of the or
chestra with rapt attention, his face beaming with

141

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

sunshine. We are told that there were times when,
at the end of the performance, the tears would
stream down his face. And more than once did he
say to his orchestra: "You played it so beautifully,
gentlemen! Please please play it once again for
me!"

Many of the players employed in Nikisch's or
chestras have published articles in which they have
described the enormous faculty of this conductor to
inspire them with unprecedented enthusiasm for
music. Truth to tell, the men adored Nikisch, and
because of him they adored their work. It has been
written by one of these musicians, that, at one time,
while rehearsing Tschaikovsky's Fifth Symphony in
London after an unusually strenuous day in which
many other compositions were rehearsed as well
Nikisch stopped for a moment in the midst of the
symphony to inquire of the men if they would prefer
a short respite of ten minutes for relaxation and a
smoke. He had, however, so fascinated each one of
them with his interpretation of the Tschaikovsky
symphony, and had so infused them with enthusiasm
and zest for their work tliat almost unanimously the
orchestra entreated him not to give them the inter
mission.

Certainly, greater flattery than this knows no
conductor,

142

rTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

III

KARL MUCK AN AMERICAN
TRAGEDY

1.

NOTHING can so forcefully illustrate how
two opposing methods of conducting can
bring equally distinguished results than a contrast
of Artur Nikisch with his celebrated contemporary,
Dr. Karl Muck. These two conductors who, be
tween them, virtually dominated the field of orches
tral conducting for more than two decades, were
opposite poles in the conductorial cosmos. A glance
at their respective faces will reveal what a chasm
separated their personalities. The one possessed
soft features, deep poetic eyes, gentle slope of cheek
bones and lips of expressive suppleness; the other
has tense muscles, eyes of penetrating sharpness,
lips with hard corners, and an assertive chin that
speaks power.

And as their faces, so their temperaments. Nikisch
was the unashamed romanticist who throughout his
entire life revealed an almost boyish effusiveness and
sentiment, while Muck was always the stern and

143

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

rigid classicist. Nikisch conducted with a baton
through which poured the turbulence of his emotions,
while Muck's readings are carefully guided by a
penetratingly analytical mind. Nikisch was essen
tially the poet, and his music was warmed by his
Hungarian blood; Muck is the scientist, whose dis
secting mind guides all of his interpretations.

Their methods are equally at divergent points.
Nikisch's attitude in his relationship with his men
could never be adopted by an artist of Muck's tem
perament. He is essentially the Prussian in his auto
cratic dominance over his players, and in his demand
for military discipline. The supreme master of every
situation, he is disinterested in the men as human-
beings but manipulates them as though they are
automatons. It is said of Muck's rehearsals that
they are like a battlefield in which he is general and
in which every movement and act is strictly rou-
tinized. Certainly, the most stringent discipline is
imposed by him, and he can be merciless in the face
of disobedience. He has a stinging tongue, an acid
sense of humor, a satire more pointed than the end
of a needle. It is well-known, for example, how at
one rehearsal in Bayreuth he turned his rump in
formally toward the tuba-players and exclaimed:
ff lch kami damit viel besser spielen!" ("I can play
with this much better!"). His criticisms are often

144

KARL MUCK

MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

scathing. His men at the rehearsal are always in
fear of him, always on edge and it is for this reason,
possibly, that he has succeeded in getting so much
out of them in concentration and effort.

Nikisch's method of resorting to superficial re
hearsal, with the final work completed at the concert,
has likewise been impossible with Muck. His mind
is too meticulously scientific for so haphazard a pro
cedure. Muck's rehearsals have worn a composition
threadbare. Each phrase is placed under the mag
nifying glass of his profound musical scholarship,
and before Muck brings his men to the concert
platform each bar of music has been worked out
carefully and deliberately so that, during the per
formance, he does nothing more than beat time.

As a conductor, Muck's outstanding trait has been
his keen intellect, his well-disciplined and precise
mind that has been reflected in each of his perform
ances. Whenever he performs a work, he studies
his score as a student might, examining, dis
secting, analyzing. Unlike Nikisch, he cannot per
mit his emotions to guide him, but depends entirely
upon his fine critical sense and his enormous
intellectual background. His interpretations are
carefully worked out from the score, and each effect
evolved naturally and inevitably from the texture of
the music. His conceptions are always coherent and

145

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

balanced. And his cultural background has brought
to his readings a richness and depth and maturity
which are too often lacking in the performances of
other conductors. When he performs Bach or Bee
thoven or Wagner, it is not merely tones that are
given expression, but experiences and ideas.

It should not be assumed that, because his inter
pretations are so carefully studied and prepared,
that Muck's performances are cerebral. His intel
lectual and emotional forces blend harmoniously,
and he is capable of great sensitivity, refinement and
beauty. Muck has within him a vital power that is
uncontrollably dynamic. The music under his hand
derives from it a brisk accentuation and a vital mov
ing force which always make it electrically alive. A
sense for rhythm that is meticulously perfect, an
infallible ear, an exquisite feeling for form, an ability
to impart his lessons crisply and lucidly, and a pro
found reverence for great art are other qualities
which have brought him greatness.

A dynamo of energy, Muck is capable of enor
mous work, even though he is today an old man. He
never seems to require mental relaxation or physical
recess. From the moment rehearsals begin until
they end, he devotes every ounce of effort that is
within him, and demands the same from every
player. In Bayreuth, in 1930, I attended Muck's

146

MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

rehearsals of Parsifal and marveled at the enormous
energy that he possessed. From ten o'clock in the
morning until evening, he was indefatigable a
nervous force persistently driving him on. And
then while the orchestra-men emerged from the
theatre bent with exhaustion he would remain on
the stage for conferences with the singers to review
with them their respective parts.

Perhaps the most characteristic attribute of Muck
as an artist has been his fierce honesty. His sincerity
and integrity can never be subject to question. For
this reason, his first law as a conductor has been a
strict allegiance to the score. He cannot, as Nikisch
too frequently did, mould the music to suit his whims,
and he can never permit himself the luxurious free
dom of changing a single phrase or a rhythmic
figure of a musical work; always unswervingly true
to the composer, he feels forcefully that a conductor
is primarily an interpreter, and not an editor. For
this reason, too, he can never pander as Nikisch did
more than once to an audience. Muck has always
been the scrupulously sincere artist who, in the face
of his art, was oblivious of his public and could never
exploit it to glorify his own personality. As a result,
he utilizes the simplest possible gestures in his con
ducting, avoiding any suggestion of spectacle or
display; and occasionally, when he felt that his mar-

147

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

velously drilled orchestra did not require his beat,
he would put down the baton and permit the men
to perform without any guidance. Simplicity and
unostentatiousness have always characterized his
work; humility, his personality.

Where art was concerned, Muck has had a severe
conscience which never permitted him to practise
duplicity or hypocrisy. It was this savage honesty
with himself and his art that brought Muck the
major tragedy of his great career the American
tragedy.

2.

As we look back upon the War episode from the
comfortable perspective of almost two decades and
with a vision unblurred by the hysterics of a mob,
we realize that it was we, and not Muck, who
emerged from the incident in disgrace.

When Muck came to Boston in 1905, at the invita
tion of Henry Lee Higginson he had already ac
quired an enviable reputation with his baton. He was
born in Darmstadt in 1859. Academic studies were,
at first, his major interest, and having attended the
Universities of Heidelburg and Leipzig he emerged
with a doctorate degree. His initiation into music,
as a profession, occurred in his twenty-first year as a
concert-pianist. Solo performances, however, dis-

148

MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

satisfied him, and he turned to conducting as a much
richer medium for artistic self-expression. His early
training was pursued in Salzburg, Briinn and then
Prague. In 1889, his powerful performances of
Wagner first aroused admiration in Russia, whither
Muck had come with Angelo Newmann's itinerant
Wagnerian company. It was not until 1892, how
ever, that his true greatness was perceptible; in that
year he was appointed Kapellmeister of the Royal
Opera in Berlin, and his work was so distinguished
that a nation-wide attention was focused upon him.
From that time on his fame assumed gigantic stat
ure, particularly at Covent Garden (1899) with his
interpretations of the great Wagnerian music-dra
mas, and with the Philharmonic concerts of Vienna
(1903) in the symphonic repertoire. When, there
fore, he came to America for his first visit, in 1905, he
trailed behind him a great and successful career, and
he was welcomed in Boston at the time as one of the
foremost batonists of the day.

In Boston he was to scale even greater heights
during his two periods as principal conductor of the
orchestra. His unrelenting discipline brought the
orchestra to a technical assurance it had not known
even with Wilhelm Gericke; and his genius as inter
preter as well as his alert experimentalism which
placed upon his programs the foremost representa-

149

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

tives of contemporary musical expression made his
concerts artistic events of first importance. It was
well recognized by American music-audiences that,
under Karl Muck, the Boston Symphony Orchestra
had become the first orchestra in America, and pos
sibly in the world; and their appreciation was com
mensurate with his importance. There was hardly a
dissenting voice among American music-lovers in
that choir which perpetually sang his praises.

But that was before the sombre days of 1914.

When Karl Muck came to America from the War
Zone, in 1915, to fulfil his contractual obligations
with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, he was met at
the boat by a newspaper reporter who wished to
interview him on the subject of the Belgian atroci
ties. With his customary honesty, Muck far from
attempting to equivocate frankly told the reporters
that he could not believe that his countrymen could
be capable of such exaggerated bestialities. It was
to be expected that the newspapers should spread
Muck's words across the front pages. And when, a
few days later, Muck conducted his first program,
which perhaps by coincidence, as Muck later
asserted was devoted entirely to the German clas
sics, grumblers asserted that Muck was using the
popularity of his personality and the genius of his
baton to spread German propaganda in America;

150

MUCK A1ST AMERICAN TRAGEDY

that, as a matter of fact, Muck was in the employ of
the Kaiser to bring America to German support.

But, though implications were strong and insinu
ations dark during the year that followed hinting
at Muck's political associations with the Fatherland
his position was tolerable only so long as America
remained a neutral country. When America offi
cially entered the conflict, Muck suddenly found
himself in a difficult and trying situation in the
very centre of a maelstrom. Accused long before
this of being a German agent, Muck discovered that
these formerly silly accusations and pointed fingers
could become painfully embarrassing. Newspapers,
through subtle innuendo, began to drip poison into
the minds of American patriots. They singled out
the fact that Muck was German by birth and, a very
intimate friend of the Kaiser to boot. The question
was not, at first, directly posed by the newspaper
stories, but it lurked all too obviously between-the-
lines : Were we to nurse an enemy in our very midst?

In vain did Muck attempt to answer the insinu
ations published by the newspapers. It was true that
he was a German by birth but he proved that he was
a Swiss and not a German through naturaliza
tion; how, then, could he be regarded as an enemy?
As for his friendship with the Kaiser, did not the
newspapers know well (and, at the time, publicize

151

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

the fact) that he had had serious altercations with the
Kaiser which, finally, led him to resign from his
important post as the director of the Royal Opera in
Berlin? These arguments were brushed aside, and
the newspapers summoning their strength hurled
one stinging question at the somewhat bewildered
conductor. Was it not true, they asked, that in his
sympathies Muck was intensely pro-German?
Muck, far too honest to dissemble explained that
although he could not be reasonably expected to hate
the Germans who were his dearest friends, his rela
tives and his closest associates he sincerely felt an
artist was not a politician and could, in his behaviour
and speech, maintain a strict neutrality. The edi
tors, too bent upon destruction to follow the subtle
line of his reasoning, seized upon this answer and
hurled it, in a garbled form, across the country.
Flaming headlines now announced the fact that Dr.
Karl Muck, by his own confession, acknowledged the
fact that his sympathies rested entirely with the
Fatherland.

It required now the slightest spark to ignite the
waiting dynamite. Shortly before a concert which
the Boston Symphony Orchestra was scheduled to
give in Providence, Rhode Island, on October 30,
1917, a demand was made by the citizens of Provi
dence through telegrams and newspaper editorials

152

MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

that Dr. Muck preface his concert with a perform
ance of the Star Spangled Banner. "It is as good a
time as any/' spoke the editorial of the Providence
Journal, "to put Prof. Muck to the test." Muck,
whose courage could be matched by his artistic
sincerity, refused vigorously to perform the national
anthem, maintaining that poor music had no place
upon the program of a serious symphony-concert,
even in time of war.

Then the storm broke about Muck's head with
thunder and lightning. Women's groups and patri
otic societies joined as one to denounce Karl Muck
viciously for his unpatriotic stand, and to accuse him
openly for the first time of that, which until now they
had been expressing in whispers and deft sugges
tions namely, that Karl Muck was a German agent
in America, supporting the German war with Amer
ican money. 1

i At this point two questions should be answered to clarify this
situation further. Why did not Muck, at this time, resign from his
post and escape into obscure confinement as Fritz Kreisler, for ex
ample, had done? The answer is today much more apparent than it
was fifteen years ago. From the moment America entered the War,
Muck pleaded with Higginson for permission to resign from the posi
tion. Major Higginson who, until the very end remained Muck's
staunch friend, convinced Muck that to resign at that time was a
weak gesture acknowledging both guilt and defeat; that Muck's
paramount duty as a great artist was to fight valiantly during those
catastrophic years to free art from the yoke of politics. As a matter
of fact, on November 4, 1917, Muck fiercely demanded that his resig
nation be accepted, but Higginson tore up the request.

A second question is not so easily answered, except by those who
can understand the conscience of a great artist. One can level criti-

153

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

When, on November 3, 1917 at the insistent
instigation of Henry Lee Higginson, who forcefully
realized the emergency Muck conducted the Star
Spangled Banner, he showed his sharp teeth to the
audience. Not merely did he present his own arrange
ment of the anthem using the Wagnerian chro
matic accompaniment of the Tannhauser Overture
as a counterpoint to the main melody (having the
douhly satiric effect of combining a German and an
American melody, but also of having the German
theme laugh in derision, in its downward chromatic
sweeps, at the American anthem) but, when the
performance was over, he refused to acknowledge
the applause and cheers of an audience too blind to
realize that it had been laughed at. His refusal to
turn around and accept the applause of his audience
was the last straw; and from that time on Muck's
fate in America was sealed.

The storm was now to grow in intensity and fury,
and to gain rapid momentum with each passing day.

cism at Muck's lack of tact and grace in refusing to conduct the
Star Spangled Banner at a time when war hysteria was numbing the
reason of an entire nation. But to an artist of Muck's stature, his
conscience would not permit expediency to alter his artistic stand
ards. For Muck to have conducted a work which he honestly felt to
be bad music would have reduced him in his own eyes to a charlatan.
One recalls in this connection that, not so long ago, Mr. Toscanini was
equally guilty of such lack of tact when commanded by Italy's black
shirts to perform the Fascist hymn at a concert devoted to Martucci's
music he vigorously refused.

154

MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

On November 7, a mass meeting was called in Balti
more (after a concert, scheduled there by the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, had been officially forbidden
by the Police Commissioner) to denounce Karl
Muck as an enemy of the American people. Gov
ernor Warfield of Maryland, stabbing his fist
towards the galleries, cried out that no true Ameri
can could remain satisfied until Muck had been
"mobbed 5 * to death; and he succeeded so admirably
in arousing the fever of the audience that a gray-
haired lady in the gallery forgot her poise sufficiently
to exclaim towards the speaker, "Let's kill the bas
tard!" Shortly thereafter, the Providence Journal
openly accused Muck in its editorials of acting as a
paid-agent of the German government. And Ladies'
societies consecrated to patriotism announced that
henceforth a general boycott of the concerts of the
Boston Symphony Orchestra would be in effect, and
that anyone daring to enter Symphony Hall in Bos
ton would be branded a traitor to his country.

By March of 1918, the antagonism to Muck had
become so bitter and vitriolic that even Henry Lee
Higginson was compelled to confess that discretion
was now the better part of valor. It was announced
that at the end of the season Muck would, finally,
relinquish the baton. But a nation, once aroused,
was not to be so easily silenced. It was no longer

155

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

satisfied with Muck's resignation but demanded
revenge in a form more palpable. On March 13, Dr.
Manning joined the now-nationwide conflict, using
his enormous energy and prestige to inflame Ameri
can patriots against this dangerous enemy. And
perspective had, by this time, become so warped that
we even find a Detroit newspaper referring to Muck
as "the world's worst conductor."

In the last weeks of March, Karl Muck who did
not permit the venom of a mob's hate to poison his
artistry was working ten hours a day preparing
Bach's St. Matthew's Passion for the last concert of
the season. He was expending as much scrupulous
care in details and as much high inspiration as though
he were working under the most ideal conditions, as
though there were no war across the ocean nor an
angry mob outside of the concert-hall, as though the
only important consideration in the world at the time
was to play Bach as beautifully as possible. After
one of these intense all-day rehearsals on March 25
Muck was arrested at his home at nine o'clock in
the evening for being an "enemy alien." The news
papers implied with dark references that there rested
in their hands powerful evidence, which they could
not at the time disclose, but which definitely impli
cated Muck as a political enemy. For a long time,
this "powerful evidence" remained a dark secret.

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MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

Finally, when the truth leaked out, It was learned
that the only complaint that the Government had
against Muck was the fact that he had not registered
as an "enemy alien/' as was required at the time by
law of all Germans; and Muck had not registered
because, being a Swiss citizen, he did not consider
himself an enemy.

Pending a sentence from Washington, D. C., Karl
Muck was confined in prison, and the event aroused
wide jubilation and self -congratulations from one
end of the country to the other. On April 5, the
decision, finally, arrived from Washington. Karl
Muck was found guilty of espionage by the Depart
ment of Justice, and was ordered interned for the
remainder of the War in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia.
Justice had finally prevailed ; one of the world's fore
most artists was now "Prisoner 1337."

For fourteen months, Muck remained a political
prisoner in Georgia. Then silent forces having
been at work it was decided at Washington to
deport him as expeditiously as possible. On August
12, 1919, Muck was hurried in secrecy and stealth
aboard the Frederic VIII. He had arrived in
America in glory, but he was to depart as a criminal.
His bon- voyage had a fragrant odor, indeed ! "Good
riddance of Dr. Karl Muck" was the flower which
the editorial page of the leading musical-magazine in

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

America contributed to the bouquet. And a second
prominent musical journal was no less generous:
"There is no room for any Dr. Mucks at the head of
the Boston Symphony Orchestra or any other musi
cal institution."

3.

There was no doubt that this American episode for
a long time left a bitter taste with Muck. His friends
have described how, for a long time, his spirit and
health were crushed; how, as a matter of fact, he
found it difficult to return to the baton. But, for
tunately, when Muck returned to conducting to
assume the leadership of the Hamburg Symphony
Orchestra and to give his prophetic readings of
Wagner in Bayreuth his greatness had lost none of
its proportions, and he once again assumed a leading
position over the conductors of the world.

That position he still maintains, even though his
concerts have become few and far between. Herbert
F. Peyser, the foreign musical correspondent of the
New York Times, has commented that in the rare
occasions when Muck today steps upon the concert-
platform, he reveals a vision in his interpretations
that is almost other-worldly, a conception that is
heroic, and a mellow majesty and nobility which,
long ago became closely identified with all of Muck's

158

MUCK AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

readings. Karl Muck is an old man, but when he
raises his baton (the writer will always cherish the
memory of his performances of Parsifal in Bay-
reuth) he has the strength and freshness and zest of
youth.

159

IV
FELIX WEINGARTNER

1.

WHEN" early in January, 1935, the Vienna
State Opera House searched for a luminous
name to succeed Clemens Krauss, who had resigned
as its principal conductor and artistic director in
order to assume a similar position in Nazi Berlin, it
called upon Felix von Weingartner. Thus, in his
seventy-second year, Weingartner relinquished his
post of conductor in Basle, Switzerland, and
returned to Vienna, probably to end his magnificent
career where, many years before, he had earned his
greatest triumphs. More than a generation has done
honor to his art, and today at the dusk of his life
he still finds himself one of the great conductors of
the world, and at the head of a great European
musical institution.

Weingartner's rich career virtually spans the his
tory of modern conducting and, together with Muck
and Nikisch, he played an all-important role in giv
ing it shape and direction. He was born in Zara, on
the Dalmatian coast, in 1863, and as a student at the

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FELIX WEINGARTNER

FELIX WEINGARTNER

Leipzig Conservatory, he revealed unusual talents
for conducting. At one of the student concerts, he
directed from memory the Conservatory orchestra in
a performance of Beethoven's Second Symphony
only to receive a vigorous verbal thrashing from his
instructor, Karl Reinecke, who was a little peeved at
finding a mere boy accomplishing what he had never
been able to do at his concerts with the Leipzig
Gewandhaus. However, though Weingartner failed
to receive his deserved share of appreciation at the
Conservatory, encouragement was not slow in com
ing. Completing his studies, he came to Weimar
where he met and became a close friend of Franz
Liszt. Liszt was to exert an enormous influence on
the young man's artistic career. Recognizing Wein
gartner 's ail-too apparent talents for conducting, he
urged him to turn to the stick as his profession and
he procured an opening for him as assistant to Hans
von Billow at Mannheim, perhaps the most desirable
post a young conductor might reach for at the time.
His associations with Hans von Billow were not
particularly happy. The liberties that von Billow
took with whatever music he directed stung the
young and sensitive musician who could not under
stand why masterpieces should be tampered with.
When Weingartner took his turn with the baton he
stubbornly refused to follow von Billow's example.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

At one time, he rehearsed Bizet's Carmen with atten
tion to the most minute requests of the composer,
and von Billow who stood nearby to listen to his
assistant viciously criticized Weingartner for ad
hering so rigidly to the score. But Weingartner was
even then a musician with principle. He slammed
his score and, rushing from the platform, muttered
under his breath that unfortunately he had an artistic
conscience, even if von Billow did not. With that
final thrust, their relationship came to a disagreeable
end. Von Billow frequently maintained afterwards
that Weingartner was wasting his time with the
baton, because he simply was no conductor 1

Hans von Billow never learned how far he had
strayed from the truth. Although Weingartner was
appointed conductor of the Royal Symphonic Con
certs in Berlin in 1891, it was not until after von
Billow's death that his star began to rise. His repu
tation was slow in establishing itself. He was by no
means a spectacular figure on the platform. His
gestures were most simple and unpretentious; his
platform mannerisms, at certain moments, ap
proached the awkward. It required considerable
intimacy for his audiences to realize what a pungent
beat his baton possessed (a beat in which even the
most complicated rhythms were enunciated with the
utmost of clarity and firmness), and how eloquent

162

FELIX WEINGARTNER

the sweep of his left hand could be in a particularly
moving passage. It likewise required a very close
association with his performances for the public to
recognize the remarkable purity, the cleanliness and
correctness of all of Weingartner's performances.

It was with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
to which organization Felix Weingartner had come
in 1908 that his genius was unmistakably perceived.
From that time on, his work with the celebrated
orchestra, as well as his frequent visits to Paris and
London, brought him a preeminent position among
the conductors of the age. In London, as a matter
of fact where he has conducted the Royal Philhar
monic Society so frequently that English music-
audiences have begun to esteem him as one of their
own Weingartner has often been considered the
ne plus ultra of symphonic interpreters, the logical
successor to Artur Nikisch.

2.

Felix Weingartner is a classicist by temperament
and training, and in classic literature his touch is at
its firmest. Sensibility, restraint and a mature intel
lect bring his performances a very impressive nobility
and it has often been expressed that the majestic
grandeur of his Beethoven has been equalled by no
other conductor of our time, not even by Toscanini

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THE MAN WITH THE EATON

or Muck. Weingartner can maintain the classic line
of a musical work with a hand that is always sure of
itself, he can give voice to the most delicate harmonic
schemes, and even the most fragile balances. His
Mozart, therefore, can be as sensitively poignant as
his Beethoven can be majestic. But perhaps the
most significant quality of Weingartner's conduct
ing is his unusual faculty for seeing a musical work
as a whole ; he has an instinctive feeling for architec
tural design. With each of his performances he cre
ates a coherent conception in which, as Walter Pater
has said of all great art, the end foresees the very
beginning "and never loses sight of it, and in every
part is conscious of all the rest, till the last sentence
goes out, with undiminished vigor, to unfold and
justify the first." This has always been an impor
tant trait of all supremely great conductors ; and, like
Nikisch, Muck and Toscanini, Weingartner pos
sesses it to a very marked degree.

In his conducting, Weingartner has combined
important characteristics of both Nikisch and Muck.
Like Nikisch, he believes in inspiring friendship and
affection among his orchestra-men. At rehearsals,
he is always generous, warm and soft-spoken. He is
not the dictator, nor the unreasonable school teacher.
He convinces his men of the truth of his conceptions
through the eloquence of his explanations, and not

164

FELIX WEI^GARTNER

through stinging phrases and stern, commanding
voice. He is sympathetic to the problems facing his
men, and is largely instrumental in helping them
solve them. And, though his rehearsals are intensive
and thorough, he does not require very elaborate
verbal explanations to transfer his ideas to the play
ers. Performers under his baton have told us that
his eyes have a very expressive quality which can
explain his intentions to them with considerable
clarity while they are performing. In this connec
tion, the editor of Musical Quarterly has related an
interesting anecdote: "Weingartner called upon one
of the students to take the stick (in a 'lesson 3 on the
first movement of a Brahms symphony) . All went
on swimmingly until the young man came to a stop.
He tried again, with no "better luck. Weingartner
asked another student to conduct the passage. He,
too, came to grief. Then Weingartner himself
picked up the stick. But before raising it, he hesi
tated a moment, and then said: 'Gentlemen, I don't
blame you. That is one of those places that I, my
self, don't beat with the stick or hand. I conduct
that with my eyes. Let's take the place again, and
watch my eyes/ The players began the passage once
more, at the danger point they watched Weingart-
ner's eyes, and the result was perfection."

But Weingartner is more like Muck than Nikisch

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

in that his entire aim in his art is to translate the
printed page into performance as accurately as he
can; with the passing of years he has lost none of his
youthful contempt and impatience with those con
ductors who boldly revise and change. Just as
Wagner fought against the constraining formalism
of Mendelssohn's conducting, so Weingartner
from the very dawn of his career until the present
time has bitterly rebelled against the overemphasis
and false dramatics of the Wagnerian and the von
Biilow school of conducting. Weingartner has felt
strongly that it is the conductor's duty to efface his
own personality when he is interpreting a master
piece, that it is only the composer who must speak in
the music. "The more your individuality disappears,
finally to hide behind that created by the work," he
has written in his autobiography, "nay, rather to
become identical with it, the greater will your per
formance become."

And like Muck, Weingartner possesses a severe
artistic conscience that recognizes no compromises
and permits no concessions. This conscience has
forced him throughout his entire career to remain
religiously faithful to his art and to maintain it, at
all times, on the highest and loftiest standards.

166

BOOK III
BATONS OF OUR DAY

I

I

TOSCANINI

1.

N" 1886, an Italian opera-company headed by a
Brazilian conductor, Leopoldo di Miguez,
toured through South America in a series of popular
opera-performances. The conductor was not in very
great favor with either the orchestra or the singers,
and during the tour the company did everything in
its power to make his position uncomfortable. For a
long while, Miguez quietly tolerated the hostility of
his performers. Then, when the company came to
Rio de Janeiro, Miguez suddenly announced his
resignation, and in a statement published widely in
the local newspapers, fully explained how, having
until now suffered the antagonism of the entire
opera-company, it was impossible for him to con
tinue.

The opera scheduled for the evening was Aida
and, the advance sale having been particularly good,
there was a full house despite Miguez's sudden
resignation. AJI assistant conductor, a maestro
Superti, was hurriedly called upon as a substitute,

169

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

but no sooner did lie make an appearance than a
wave of hostility swept across the opera-house ; from
the first row of the parquet to the last row of the
balcony, stamping of feet, hissing, loud and angry
exclamations announced that the audience would not
accept a substitute with docility. Behind the scenes,
the director of the opera-company, pale and trem
bling, clenched his fists fiercely and muttered vile
oaths under his breath. Obviously, the audience
would not permit Superti to conduct; the commotion
had not even as yet begun to subside. Where at this
late hour could he find another conductor who might
meet with the approval of the audience?

A few of the orchestra-men scrambled back-stage
to bring the director a discreet suggestion. Among
their number was a young, diffident 'cellist Arturo
Toscanini, by name who had repeatedly proved to
them that he knew the music of the operas remark
ably well. He had, as a matter of fact, time and
again performed his 'cello part from memory, and by
his frequent comments revealed to his fellow musi
cians that he had very definite ideas about conduct
ing. Why not call upon this young musician to
direct Aida? Futility and despair made the director
receptive to any feasible plan. And so, in a few
minutes, the lights in the house were once again low
ered. A mere boy, wearing an evening suit far too

170

Renato Toppo

ARTURO TOSCANINI

TOSCANINI

large for him, nervously leaped upon the conductor's
stand. The curiosity of the audience was aroused,
and momentarily its bitter resentment had been
pacified.

The young man rapped his stick sharply on the
desk and then, without opening the score which
rested idly on the stand in front of him for the entire
length of the performance, he waved the baton
through the air. The baton was like the saber of a
Cossack, slashing over the heads of the orchestra-
men, driving them to work fiercely, passionately. It
seemed to emit with each sweep an electric current.
The men, swept by forces they could not understand,
played as they had probably never played before.
The melodic lines acquired an altogether new ex
quisite contour; the rhythms became decisive and
firm; the balance of the orchestra suddenly acquired
new solidity and depth. Something about the con
ductor (was it the demonical gleam of his eyes which,
never diverted to the score, was savagely pinned
upon them, or was it the Herculean strength of his
beat?) electrified them, and as they played they
seemed as though they were possessed by a Spirit.

And an audience that had come expressly to jeer
and hiss, remained to stand and cheer. It had never
before heard an A'ida such as this, and the young
conductor directing the score from memory at a

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

moment's notice stirred its imagination. After that
evening, Arturo Toseanini became the favored con
ductor of the itinerant opera-company. During the
tour he was called upon to direct no less than
eighteen operas and to the speechless amazement
of hoth audiences and musicians never once did he
touch a score.

Thus brilliantly was the name of Arturo Toseanini
introduced to the music-world. Upon his return to
Italy, he continued to startle and electrify. Called
upon to conduct opera in Turin, he proved once
again that conducting came as naturally to him as
speech to others ; his ability to arouse enthusiasm and
zest in the tired orchestra-men inspired wonder and
awe among all musicians. He was to arouse even
more amazed comment as his conductorial career
progressed. In 1896, when he was appointed con
ductor of the orchestral concerts of the La Scala in
Milan, he shattered the insularity of his countrymen
by giving them a rigorous musical diet of German
and Russian music, as well as a frequent taste of
modernism. Three years later, as conductor at the
La Scala Opera, he inaugurated his rigorous re
hearsals, and his unapproachable high standard of
performances, which made the La Scala Opera
House the most important institution of its kind in
the world.

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TOSCANINI

Since that time, his career has persistently risen to
greater glory. At the Metropolitan Opera House,
from 1908 until 1915, his exquisitely perfect per
formances created sensations each time this little
man sat in his conductor's seat. At the head of the
New York Philharmonic Symphony Society and
as guest to the principal orchestras of the world
he has convinced even the most recalcitrant critic
that as a symphony-conductor he has equalled his
prodigious achievements in opera. Finally, in 1930,
the greatest honor rested upon his shoulders: He
was the first foreign conductor to be invited to direct
Wagnerian opera at Bayreuth.

Today, with his seventieth birthday not far in the
distance, he finds himself one of the glories of the
modern musical world. There will not be many to
doubt that, among the immortals of the baton the
name of Arturo Toscanini must always be featured
prominently. Discussion arises only when the rela
tive position of Toscanini, among the great con
ductors of all-time, is posed. There are some who
believe that in classic symphonies Felix von Wein-
gartner had a vision far greater and a depth more
profound than Toscanini; that in the music of the
Romantics, Nikisch could be much more poetical.
There are some who feel that in the temple of the
Wagnerian music-drama, Toscanini must yield the

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

altar to Karl Muck and, having heard both of
them in Bayreuth, I will not acquiesce so easily.
However, there is no one, intimately familiar with
Toscanini's performances, who can deny that in sheer
versatility Toscanini is greater than any of his pred
ecessors or contemporaries. A touch that can be so
exquisite in Mozart, so heroic in Wagner, so poign
antly lyrical in Verdi and Puccini, and so tremen
dously volcanic in the music of modern composers, is
certainly unequalled in its scope and variety. There
will be no one to doubt, too, that though Nikisch or
Muck or Weingartner may have, in certain inspired
performances, touched greater profundity and musi
cal genuineness than Toscanini, neither one could
ever boast of performances so meticulously perfect
in every detail as those of the Italian maestro;
among the conductors of the world, Toscanini is
probably the greatest virtuoso that ever lived.
Finally, there will be none to deny that in certain
performances, Toscanini can outstrip the most in
spired efforts of any conductor, as far as our
fumbling memories can guide us. And when we
hear his Mozart, his Verdi, his Wagner, his Vivaldi,
we are tempted to say of him what a critic once wrote
of de Pachmann: "He is, after all, the master of all
in his field; for the way he plays some things, no one
can play anything! 3 '

174

TOSCANINI

2.

Once in discussing orchestral conductors with a
veteran performer who had played under more
batons than he could hope to remember, I heard a
penetrating comment which, I feel, is singularly ap
plicable to Toscanini. "Some conductors," this mu
sician told me, "are uniquely gifted in mind. Others
are especially endowed in ear. Still others, possess
sensitive hearts. The supremely great conductor is
the one who is equally strong in mind, ear and heart."

In discussing Toscanini's many fine qualities as
conductor, endless paragraphs might be written about
his magnificent rhythmic sense, his infallible instinct
for dynamics and orchestral balance, his fine classi
cism, his deep and sensitive poetry, his ability to see
a work "steadily and see it whole," his amazing ca
pacity to penetrate into the very soul of a musical
work and give it expression. Leopold Stokowski
has neatly summed up Toscanini's strength when he
wrote : "The first thing that struck me, was his com
pelling rhythm so subtle and flexible and vibrant.
His beat breaks every academic rule yet it is al
ways clear and eloquent. But it is between the beats
that something almost magical happens: one can
always tell when he has reached the half-beat or the
three-quarter beat, even when he does not divide his

175

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

beats; and it is this certainty and clarity of beats
which creates such a perfect ensemble when he con
ducts, so that the orchestra sounds like one giant
instrument. . . . The melodic line, he moulds just
as a sculptor moulds soft clay, the forms appearing
under his fingers. His sense of harmonic balance
is extraordinary he draws into relief the notes in
the harmony which have color and character and
keeps in the background the notes which are of sec
ondary importance ; from this comes the unique qual
ity of his harmony."

But, though these analyses of Toscanini's char
acteristics as conductor are very illuminating, we
can understand the maestro's art much more inti
mately when we attempt to apply my friend's pene
trating formula for the great conductor. Toscanini
is that rare conductor who combines a great mind,
a great ear and a great heart.

He has a prof ound knowledge of music historical
as well as technical and he possesses a pungent
critical faculty. He can put his finger upon a weak
ness of a score by merely glancing through it, and
usually he knows the remedy. Once, a young Ameri
can composer submitted a work to Toscanini who,
merely passing his eye over the manuscript, pointed
to a passage and inquired whether the composer
should not have orchestrated it far differently. "You

176

TOSCANINI

know," the composer told me afterwards, "when I
had finished the composition of the work, I felt a
keen dissatisfaction with that one passage, but did
not know how to remedy the defect. And there, in
a few moments, Toscanini had not only found the
deficiency hut had given me the precise remedy!"

Added to this enormous musical knowledge, is the
fabulous musical memory, which has absorbed in its
sponge-like tissues the bulk of symphonic and oper
atic literature. That during a conductorial career
which spans four decades and in which Toscanini
has performed a bewildering variety of works, classic
as well as modern, he should never have resorted to
the printed page in performance, and only rarely
at rehearsals, is a phenomenon such as music his
tory, I am sure, cannot parallel. There have been
conductors before Toscanini Hans von Billow, for
example, or Hans Richter who have had amazing
memories and who, therefore, conducted without the
aid of a score. But even these conductors frequently
leaned for support upon the printed page in un
familiar old or new music, and certainly neither of
these conductors could match Toscanini's amazing
repertoire.

I have frequently read that Toscanini was com
pelled by necessity to develop his memory because,
being myopic, he could never use a score unless he

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

brought it up to his very nose. But this explanation
is not altogether satisfactory. A memory like Tos-
caninf s cannot be developed through necessity. It
is well-known that in his student-days, Toscanini
startled his teachers by playing his exercises on the
violoncello without looking on the printed pages in
front of him; and when one of his professors ques
tioned Toscanini about his memory he convincingly
proved his powers by taking pencil and paper and
writing down the entire orchestral score of the Pre
lude to Lohengrin. Today, of course, his feats of
memory are even more bewildering. He will receive
a score of a new work on Friday morning and read
it in bed as though it were a book; on the following
Monday he will come to rehearsal knowing every
note and every mark upon the page. At one re
hearsal it was of Ernest Schelling's Impressions of
An Artist's Life he amused both Mr. Schelling
and the orchestra by repeatedly correcting the com
poser (who was playing the piano part with the
music in front of him) in certain nuances which were
definitely marked in the score. A famous anecdote
is, in this connection, worth repeating. A double-
bassoon player once came to Toscanini before a
rehearsal and complained that his instrument was
defective and that it could not play the note of
E-flat. Toscanini held his head in his hands for

178

TOSCAISTINI

for several silent moments and then, patting the mu
sician gently on the shoulder, said: "That's quite all
right. The note of E-flat does not appear in your
music today."

There are times when the fabulous Toscanini
memory seems to falter, but invariably it emerges
triumphant. At one time, while rehearsing a Vivaldi
concerto, he stopped the orchestra and turned
abruptly to the first violin section. "Can't you see
that those four notes are marked staccato?" he cried
out. The concert-master discreetly brought his music
to the maestro and, pointing to the notes, showed him
that there were no staccato notes in the passage.
"But that's impossible!" Toscanini exclaimed. "It
simply must be staccato!" An orchestral score was
brought from the library, and after consultation it
was found that this, too, did not have the debated
staccato notes. "I can't understand it," Toscanini
whined, almost to himself. "Those notes simply
must be staccato. It can't be otherwise." It was
quite true that Toscanini had not consulted the score
for almost ten years. But was it possible that his
memory was beginning to play pranks ? The follow
ing day, Toscanini triumphantly brought a different
score of the Vivaldi Concerto, published some fifty
years earlier than the one used in the previous
rehearsal, and considered much more authoritative.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

"You see?" he exclaimed glowingly. "Didn't I tell
you that those notes had to be played staccato?"
Toscanini had been right; the score, published ear
lier, had the questionable notes marked staccato.

Equally incredible as his memory, although con
siderably less publicized, is Toscanini's ear, which is
so hypersensitive that it can penetrate through the
most complicated mazes of sound and unravel them.
It has been said that Toscanini can tell when one of
his violinists is bowing incorrectly. While this
approaches the mythical, it is quite true that he can
tell when one of his sixty violins is slurring an intri
cate passage. Nothing seems to escape his keen
aural perception. When in a stirring climax one of
the violinists accidentally, and faintly, struck a for
eign string, Toscanini immediately detected it and
waved a warning finger at the culprit. At another
rehearsal, which I was fortunate in attending (the
work in preparation was Respighi's Pini di Roma) ,
the orchestra reached a thunderous fortissimo in the
fourth movement. Toscanini stopped his orchestra
angrily because he had heard through this inextri
cable labyrinth of sound that the flautist had not
played his few notes with sufficient clarity and pre
cision!

It is this ear that makes it possible for Toscanini
to attain his marvelous balances: he knows precisely

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TOSCANINI

the quality that each section of the orchestra should
attain, and even in the most complicated passages he
can clearly hear if the various instruments are giving
voice to the exact quality he seeks.

3.

We come now to a consideration of Toscanini as a
personality; for, without a great personality, there
can be no great artist.

Among the musicians of our day, Toscanini is
probably the most modest in the face of the music he
adores. He approaches music as a high priest
approaches his religion, with self-effacement and
unpretentiousness. Music to him is a ritual, some
thing to be treated with awe and humility. It is for
this reason that Toscanini is as scrupulous as Muck
and Weingartner in adhering to the slightest intent
of the composer; music, to him, is not for meddling.
It is for this reason, too, that in his conducting he will
resort only to the simplest gestures a circular move
ment of the right hand, while the left is resting upon
the hip or else, in tender passages, pressed against
the heart.

It is this approach to music that makes Toscanini,
in its presence, frequently so soft and sentimental.
There was, for example, the occasion of Toscanini's
performance of Puccini's Turandot. Puccini died

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

before concluding the score and, although Franco
Alfano (as Toscanini himself confessed) completed
it admirably in the spirit of its creator, Toscanini
refused to conduct, at the world's premiere of the
work in Milan, any but the uncompleted version.
And so, in the middle of a phrase, the work came
abruptly to a halt and Toscanini, turning around to
the audience with tears streaming down his pale face,
announced: "Here here the maestro died!" This,
as those who know Toscanini well, will attest, was
not mere histrionics ; it was the sincere gesture of one
who loved the score and its composer. Music softens
Toscanini from iron to clay; he has been known to
weep like a schoolgirl at a tender passage from Wag
ner or Beethoven.

Too often, Toscanini is accused of display of tem
perament. But Toscanini's temperament is not
sheer theatricalism but the product of a profound
devotion to art. When he accepts applause as though
it were some bitter medicine fleeing from it, at the
first opportunity, as though it were some plague it
is only because he honestly feels that applause diverts
the tribute from the composer to the interpreter.
There was the incident in Milan when Giovanni
Zenatello was featured in Verdi's Masked Ball
under Toscanini's baton. Toscanini had long before
this announced that he would permit no encores when

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TOSCA^IISTI

he conducted, feeling strongly that encores shattered
the artistic unity of an opera. Zenatello, however,
sang with unusual brilliance that evening and, at one
point, the audience, forgetting completely the edict
of the conductor, stormed and shouted for a repeti
tion. For several tense minutes, Toscanini waited
for the ovation to subside; then maddened by the
thought that the entire artistic conception of the
work had been rudely broken by this obstreperous
demand for an encore he rushed out of the opera-
house, running through the winter streets of Milan
without hat and coat. As he ran he bleated poign
antly to himself, like a sheep which had been
stabbed in the heart. At home, he locked himself in
his room and refused to see anyone. The following
morning he suddenly left for Genoa, vowing never
again to conduct in La Scala.

In the same fashion, when Toscanini refuses to
play music he dislikes (as, for example, the Fifth
and Patlfietique Symphonies of Tschaikovsky ) , or
will rudely refuse to shake the hand of a modern com
poser whose standards are not of the highest, it is
only because he finds shallowness in the art he loves
unforgivable. Moreover, Toscanini's famous tem
pers, as a result of mediocre performances, are not
merely the products of temperament but rather
spring from a fierce artistic integrity that will recog-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

nize no compromises and that will satisfy itself only
with perfection in every detail. When, at such infre
quent occasions, his terrible temper bursts and erupts
like a volcano, it is not because he is a pampered and
petted artist who has been offended, but because he
is a sensitive genius who has seen the art he worships
sullied and maltreated.

And yet I, for one, feel that the stories of Tos-
canini's volcanic anger have been greatly exagger
ated. While it is quite true that, at certain times,
hell knows no fury like Toscanini's these occur
rences are sufficiently infrequent to make me believe
that these stories are enormously overemphasized.
Toscanini can be I know definitely the most gen
tle and lovable human-being under the most trying
and difficult circumstances, if his artistic conscience
is at peace; even during long, arduous rehearsals his
patience and equilibrium are admirable. He can
rehearse, and he has rehearsed, phrases innumerable
times before they are performed in the style he seeks.
I have heard him rehearse a flute passage from Piz-
zetti's Concerto dell* Estate more than sixty times
before the flautist could give expression to the subtle
shadows that Toscanini found in this music and not
once during this period did Toscanini lose his temper.
In Bayreuth, he must have rehearsed the half-dozen
notes which the horn sounds at the conclusion of Act

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TOSCANINI

I of Tristan for more than a half an hour and each
time the horn-player failed to give these notes the
interpretation Toseanini sought, Toscanini would
repeat the effect for which he was searching with the
utmost of calmness and patience. He is, therefore,
by no means the unreasonable tyrant.

There are times, however, when the celebrated
Toscanini temper manifests itself. Once, during a
rehearsal, his sharp ear caught a violinist attempting
to slur over a very intricate passage in a Richard
Strauss tone-poem I believe it was Ein Helden-
leben and this conductor, who could be coolly
patient with mistakes, flew into a rage in which the
baton was split into pieces and music-stands were
hurled demoniacally on the floor. Sloppiness is a
thing which he cannot learn to accept patiently
sloppiness or indifference or apathy.

Toscanini can enjoy no happiness greater than
having his orchestra perform beautifully. He will
giggle like an adolescent, flushing with contagious
delight, his eyes sparkling merrily because his men
have just performed unusually well. But when this
perfection is not attained, Toscanini is an altogether
changed man. He becomes surly, cross, impatient.
He reaches the depths of despond. When he is
weaving and carving the final form of his music with
his baton at the performance, a passage badly played

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

strikes Tiun as stingingly as a lash of the whip. I
remember one concert when his orchestra played
without its customary brilliance and eloquence. The
music was that of Wagner, and Toscanini was so
sharply stung by a mediocre performance of music
he loved, that he behaved as though he had been
poisoned. He rushed from the stage, stormed
through the hall leading to his rest-room, and there
punched with his fist at the wall of a wooden closet
with such ferocity that it crashed into splinters.

And Toscanini can be as severe with himself as he
is with his men. At one time he conducted Vincent
D'Indy's Istar in which there is a page where there
occurs an intricate change and interchange of
rhythm. For one of the rare times in his career, Tos-
canini's memory proved false, and the maestro dur
ing the performance forgot to change the beat.
There followed, for several moments, pandemonium
until Toscanini could whip his men back into the
correct tempo. At the end of the performance, Tos
canini refused to take a bow, refused to turn and
acknowledge the applause, but rushed to his rest
room and there moaned softly in pain, holding his
head in his hands. The intermission over, Toscanini
returned to the stage, and before beginning the next
number he whispered to his men: "Gentlemen for-

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TOSCAOTNT

give me. The fault was entirely mine. Please,
forgive me."

Anyone who knows Toscanini is familiar with the
fact that no bodily pain can burn him so agonizingly
as when his artistic standards are lowered. I remem
ber seeing Toscanini in Bayreuth, in 1931, when,
suddenly, he appeared for the first time to be a very
old man. He had come to Bayreuth with flaming
enthusiasm remembering the conditions existing
there the year before, which enabled him to attain
performances of Tristan and Tannhauser which
were incomparably perfect for here, he felt, he
could procure the number of rehearsals and the type
of artists necessary for the great performances of
Wagner that he envisioned in his mind. But this
year his dream betrayed him. He suddenly encoun
tered petty politics, jealousies on the part of other
Bayreuth conductors, picayune nationalistic feeling
on the part of Germans (somewhat upset that an
Italian had so victoriously invaded their intensely
German shrine) which made it impossible for him to
secure the cast he sought, or the number of rehearsals
he deserved. No longer was Bayreuth to be the
haven for his artistic ideals, but another setting for
human pettiness. The fact that his performance of
Parsifal (magnificent though it was!) did not reach
the standards he had set for himself, almost broke his

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

heart. He had become an old man overnight. For
days he would eat little, say nothing, his face black
and intense, his eyes soft and sad. He was bitterly
unhappy and morbid. His artistic conscience was
fiercely smitten.

This capricious temperament of Toscanini's
which brings him from intense happiness to despair
is nothing more than the result of his urgent need
to express himself in music without blemish, and an
impatience with scarred and wounded performances.
His is a savage artistic conscience at whose hands he
is entirely helpless. Everything about him can be
explained by this insatiable hunger for perfection,
His quarrels with managers, his volatile moods, his
occasionally terrible temper, his tyranny at certain
moments all this comes from something deep within
him which relentlessly demands the best expression
of music that it is humanly possible to attain.
When, for more than ten years at one phase of his
career he refused to perform Beethoven's Corio-
lami Overture, it was only because he despaired of
translating the music he heard with his mind's ear to
the orchestra; and he would not tolerate anything
but the highest performances.

This, certainly, is not temperament; rather it is
the guiding force of a sublime artist.

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TOSCANINI

4.

But the real Toscanini is known only to those who
have attended his rehearsals.

He stands in front of his men twisting his baton
nervously with his fingers a handkerchief hand-
aged around his neck, the muscles of his face taut, his
brilliant eyes flashing command. In front of him,
one senses instantly that one is in contact with an
electric current. As he stands there, demanding
complete subjection, enormous concentration and
effort from his men, he quietly explains his intentions
teaching through illustration and epigram going
over an effect again and again until it is clearly
understood by the players. Toscanini's rehearsals
like those of Muck and Mahler before him are
characterized by minute and painstaking thorough
ness. Toscanini does not, like so many other modern
conductors, rehearse a symphony merely by going
through some of the salient and more difficult pas
sages and concentrating upon them, even though he
is rehearsing a work like a Beethoven symphony
which he has performed with the same orchestra time
and again. He begins his rehearsal with the first
note, and minutely dissects each passage until the end
of the composition, fastidiously weaving the various
parts into a coherent and inevitable whole. To Tos-

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TOSCANINI DURING A REHEARSAL

that suggested the roar of an animal. In telling a
clarinetist the quality he sought in a trill, he hunched
his back, raised his hands and shook quivering fingers
at him, The first subject of Beethoven's Seventh
Symphony, first movement, should sound he told
his men "like a mother, rocking her baby to sleep."
And so, with folded arms, he swayed his body back
and forth as he sang the theme softly. The opening
measures of Mozart's Jupiter Symphony he
described as "angry music" and a black face gave
the men a graphic description of what the music
should convey in tone. And once, when words failed
him completely in his effort to indicate a very delicate
effect he sought in the first movement of Beethoven's
Ninth Symphony (the tender passage for violins
beginning with bar 197), he whipped his handker
chief from his pocket and dropped it in front of him.
"Like this the music should sound," he remarked.
"Like this handkerchief, falling down."

Very often Toscanini will secure the performance
he seeks through instilling terror into the hearts of
his men. He will break batons, and fling Italian
invectives at the men to incite them to greater indus
try. He may fall on his knees, clench his hands in
prayer, and cry out: " Please, gentlemen, pianis
simo!" At one time, he was rehearsing a new work,
and he had repeatedly explained the effect he desired

191

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

in one of the passages. It was, however, difficult to
attain, and the men seemed at a complete loss to
reproduce it with their instruments. Finally, the
maestro lost his temper and screamed in such violent
Italian that the men paled under the torrent of his
rage. Presently, exhausted hy his emotion, he flung
aside his baton, and took refuge in a remote corner
of the stage, where he sat, his face buried in his hands,
a pathetic picture of hopeless dejection. No one
dared to say a word; two hundred eyes looked upon
him with a deference that bordered upon awe. At
last, Leo Schulz at that time the first violoncellist
of the New York Philharmonic ventured to pick
up the master's baton and offered it to him. Schulz
did not say a word, but his eyes pleaded with the
maestro to try them once again. Humbly, Toscanini
returned to his podium and once again explained the
effect he desired; and this time the orchestra handled
the measures with such competence that the maestro's
stormy face suddenly broke into smiles.

5.

Toscanini's art like that of Muck and Weingart-
ner grows richer and more mellow as he grows
older. Great artist that he is, Toscanini can never
permit stagnation to set into his performances. He
is always changing, always revising his conception of

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TOSCANINI

a masterwork, permitting it to grow and expand as
he grows wiser with experience. Today, for exam
ple, his dynamics in Brahms (particularly in the last
movement of the Second Symphony} and some of
his tempi in the Beethoven symphonies are much dif
ferent than they were several years ago, with the
result that his conceptions of these works are today
on a higher plane of greatness. He is perpetually
restudying his performances so that they may never
hecome routine, for he helieves as Gustav Mahler
did before him that "in every performance a work
must he reborn."

With old age, many conductors are inclined to
become a little eccentric in their interpretations. But
as he grows older, Toscanini more and more demands
that perfection in performance consist of adhering
slavishly to the composer's demands* Once while
attending a performance of Beethoven's Fifth Sym
phony in New York, performed by a celebrated con
frere, he was so infuriated at the liberties which the
conductor took with the music that he escaped from
his box, muttering "Vergogna, vergogna!" ("Dis
grace, disgrace!") under his breath. Occasionally,
there may arise criticism that Toscanini has deviated
from the exact letter of the score. Time and again
conductors have quibbled with Toscanini over his
tempi the opening measures of Brahms* First

193

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Symphony, or the second movement of Schubert's
C-Major Symphony both of which he plays much
faster than tradition would dictate. But invariably,
when they return to their scores for verification, they
discover much to their bewilderment that it is Tos
canini, and not tradition, who is in the right. In
Bayreuth in 1930, for example, there was consider
able commotion among the "perfect Wagnerites"
because it was felt that in the prelude to Tannhauser,
L Toscanini took an altogether unorthodox tempo.
Toscanini quietly summoned his critics to a piano and
there, with the aid of a metronome, proved that his
tempo was meticulously perfect, precisely the way
Wagner had so carefully designated in the score. A
series of inept conductors at Bayreuth had persist
ently tampered with Wagner's original intentions
with the result that something of a tradition had been
established until Toscanini, with his penetrating in
sight and his infallible intelligence punctured the
tradition completely.

It is often said of Napoleon's soldiers that,
wounded on the battlefield, they died blessing their
general. No less remarkable a phenomenon to me is
it that Toscamni's men who are forced to work
under him until they are exhausted mentally and

194

TOSCAKINI

physically would rather play under him than under
less exacting conductors who make of rehearsals
mere play. It was one of the violinists of the JSTew
York Philharmonic Orchestra who several years
ago when Toscanini was still the guiding genius of
La Scala confessed to me that, although Toscanini
worked him to death, he would only too gladly go to
Milan to play under him without remuneration if
Xoscanini permitted him to come. Toscanini may be
the severest taskmaster that music knows, and work
ing under him may tax the last ounce of energy that
the musicians possess; but the musicians know his
flaming sincerity, his simple modesty, his unaffected
passion for great music, and his genius and they
worship him.

But what, probably, touches them most poign
antly is this little man's crushing humility. One
recalls in this connection a rehearsal of Beethoven's
Ninth Symphony when Toscanini scrupulously, in-
defatigably laid bare the soul of the music for the
men. With his keen explanations of how the many
parts were blended into the whole, with his subtle
shadows and colors which he painted into the per
formance, with his slashing beat that endowed the
work with altogether new drama, he gave the musi
cians of the orchestra (who had played this sym
phony so frequently before this) an altogether new

195

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

insight into the work. The men, overwhelmed by the
realization that through Toscanini's inexplicable
magic they had just been given an altogether new
vision of a masterpiece, arose as one man at the end
of the rehearsal, and cheered the conductor in front
of them at the top of their lungs. The little man ges
tured wildly, desperately trying to arrest their
enthusiasm. Finally, when their spontaneous cheer
ing had subsided, he turned a pained face to his men,
and tears were glistening in those brilliant eyes of his.
"Please please " he called out in a pathetic
voice. "Don't do this to me. You see, gentlemen, it
isn't me. It's Beethoven 1"

196

II

STOKOWSKI

1.

f I ^HE first time that Leopold Stokowski ap-

I

JL peared before a radio microphone, he immedi
ately made his vibrant personality felt to his millions
of listeners in a manner characteristically Stokowski.
"We are eager to make the programs representative
of the best music of all times and countries/' he
announced. "If you do not like such music, say so,
and we won't play any more radio concerts. For I
shall certainly never play popular music.' 5

This is typically Stokowski. It is typically Sto
kowski in its sound musicianship and there can be
no doubt in the world that Stokowski is a musician to
the very tips of his fingers. It is also typically Sto
kowski in that, with such words, a glamorous and
picturesque personality a super-showman who
knows all the tricks of the theatrical trade instantly
makes itself felt. Stokowski is, among other things,
essentially a dynamic personality who expresses that
personality not only through his music but through
everything he says and does. He is a flaming fire-

197

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

brand in American music. Whether he is on the air
or on the concert-stage he radiates electricity and
magnetism and charm. Everything about him has
an indefinable Stokowski magic.

Early in his career, Stokowski heard Artur Nik-
isch perform, and this fascinating personality made
an unforgettable impression on the young and
plastic mind. It was probably Nikisch who first
brought dreams of a conductorial career to Stokow
ski. Certainly, Stokowski has been vitally influ
enced by his eminent predecessor not merely in his
romantically passionate readings but also in his
strivings for elegance in his personal appearance and
in his leaning towards the dramatic gesture. Like
Nikisch, Stokowski is that rare blend of genius and
personality, musician and showman. Like Nikisch,
Stokowski creates an unforgettable aesthetic picture
as conductor. And like Nikisch, Stokowski has
inspired the most exaggerated adulation and hysteri
cal panegyrics not only for his art but also for his
personality.

Certainly, Stokowski is the stuff of which public-
idols are made. In appearance, his impressiveness is
as indelible as Nikisch's was before him. Stokowski
has a crown of gold hair which spreads over his head
like an aureole. His features are clearly and
sharply outlined with a square jaw, an aquiline

198

Rembrandt Studios, Inc.

LEOPOLD STOKOWSKI

STOKOWSKI

nose and an assertive chin. A well-shaped body is
clothed with meticulous perfection disclosing rhyth
mic outlines. When Pierre Monteux, the guest-
conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, left the
country several years ago in bitterness and anger
because Philadelphia audiences had not responded
favorably to his colorless personality, and com
mented with acerbity to the press that he would never
again return to America because American music-
audiences could appreciate only "tailor-models" for
their conductors, it was no secret that he was speak
ing enviously of that baton Apollo who had preceded
him in Philadelphia, and who held his audiences, at
each performance, in the palm of his hand.

The Stokowski on the conductor's platform has
equal fascination. From the moment he leaps from
the wings of the stage, through his orchestra of men,
to his platform plunging into the first bar of music
even before his feet land solidly upon the dais he is
a distinct personality, electric, magnetizing. .There
are innumerable trademarks to brand him apart
from all other conductors. There are his conduc-
torial gestures, the last words in grace, poise and
elegance. His magnificent figure pulses and vibrates
with the music as though it were a sensitive musical
instrument. Graceful of body, lithe in all of his
motions, Stokowski cuts a magnificent figure in front

199

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

of the orchestra. There is his batonless hand; Sto-
kowski conducts with the swaying motion of two
open hands. There is that now-informal and good-
natured, now despotic and ill-mannered attitude of
the conductor towards his audience at every concert;
the Philadelphia performances are marked by a very
close bond between StokowsM and his public, even
when he is most philippic. There is, too, that mili
tary precision of some of his manual gestures which
clearly emphasizes that this man is a Napoleon over
his performers an iron will exerting power and
dominance over a hundred and ten men.

And the final and most convincing trade-mark of
all: there is the quality of music which Stokowski can
draw from his orchestra a sensuous tone from the
strings, rich as honey; a magnificent timbre from the
woodwinds of an undefiled purity; an orchestral tone
fabric that is sometimes pure silk and sometimes a
tonal tempest of volcanic power and intensity.

2.

A blend of personality and genius, a combination
of great musician and electric showman this is
apparent in each of Stokowski's brilliant interpreta
tions of the classics and the moderns ; and it is appar
ent in each of his actions, and in every word of mouth.
It was apparent during his entire musical career

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STOKOWSKI

which has blazed from obscurity heavenward with the
bewildering sweep of a meteor. Which of these two
has been the more potent factor in making Stokowski
a household word in Philadelphia, and the most idol
ized, perhaps the most envied, figure in all present-
day American music ? It is not easy to say*

In emphasizing the appeal of Stokowskf s person
ality, I do not wish it to be suspected that I minimize
his genius as conductor. Who can, after having
heard so many of his rejuvenated interpretations?
There have flowed more immortal interpretations
under Stokowskf s guiding fingers than under the
hand of any other one man in our time, with the
possible exceptions of Muck, Toscanini and Wein-
gartner. And, although it is equally true that Sto
kowski is not without his grave faults as an artist, he
most certainly is to be considered among the great
conductors of our day, a conductor who has devel
oped a symphonic organization which is one of the
greatest orchestras in the world. This his genius has
accomplished.

However, to become an almost legendary figure in
music, to be spoken of everywhere with awe and
reverence, to inspire obedience and terror in those
with whom he comes into contact (be it player, man
ager or patron), to be literally worshipped by an
audience for a period that spans two decades, to be

201

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

always a fresh topic for discussion, controversy and
conversation, to be front-page news with every move
and every word for this it is infinitely more essen
tial to be an impressive personality than an outstand
ing 1 musician. Stokowski, fortunately, is both. He,
therefore, occupies today a position quite unique in
American music.

Personality and genius, great showman and musi
cian blend so inextricably with Stokowski that, to
understand his art, one must know the man. It is
not easy to paint here a coherent picture. He is a
man of such strange contradictions and paradoxes
that to attempt to analyze his personality may prove
to be baffling. One may mention, for example, that,
in spirit, he is a fiery modernist with eyes pinned to
the future ; how, then, reconcile this with the fact that
he is, likewise, the devout believer in Oriental phi
losophy, religion and mysticism, and figuratively
prostrates himself before a culture many thousand
years old? One can point to the fact that Stokowski
is inordinately fond of self-advertisement he does
not seem to neglect an opportunity to appear on the
front page with a new radical idea or an astonishing
thought. And yet, in mentioning this, one is immedi
ately confronted with his unusual modesty and self-
effacement in other directions. For years now he has
refused permission to many publishers to have his

202

STOKOWSKI

work and personality glorified in book-form. And
in bis daily relationship with people he will never
talk about himself or his work; question him about
his art and his answers, likely as not, will prove to be
Delphic. "I am of no importance," he will tell you
in all sincerity. "It is great music, and great music
alone, that is of importance. I am merely a channel
for great art." Or else he will say as he once wrote
to me in a letter: "There is too much written about
artists themselves and too little about art itself. I
like to do my work and then go home and be quiet
until the moment arrives for the next work. I am
against placing stress upon the personal life of an
artist; in my opinion the illumination should be put
on the art/ 5 But, if actions speak louder than words,
there is his incredible modesty concerning those mag
nificent orchestral transcriptions of the organ and
piano music of Bach which, for so many years, he has
featured on his programs. For years, critics and
admirers have questioned him concerning this taste
ful, and anonymous, arranger, and for years Sto-
kowski has maintained a sphynx-like silence. It was
only recently, and after much persuasion, that he
confessed that it was he who was responsible for
them. "It is Bach who is important, 55 he explained
concerning his long silence. "Why should I deflect

203

THE MAN" WITH THE BATON

the enthusiasms of the audience away from the beau
tiful music of Bach and towards me?"

Other contradictions in his make-up assert them
selves with equal force. At one moment, he can be
as hard as steel. In his relation with his orchestra-
men, for example, the human element is strangely
absent. When he enters the rehearsal he rarely
greets the players, even if it is the first rehearsal
of the season; and when it is over he merely closes
his score and walks off the stage without a word. At
all times, Stokowski treats his orchestra with a hand
of iron, dismissing players at the first sign of dis
obedience, lashing them persistently with the sting
ing whip of his comments. And yet, this martinet is
capable of unusual softness at other times: There
was the occasion when one of the less important
musicians of his orchestra was laid up in hospital for
seven months. Not only did Stokowski see to it that
the musician was not deprived of his salary, but some
mysterious benefactor paid for his private room,
nurse and doctor during the entire period; and no
one knew who the benefactor was that is, no one
except the hospital official who, each Saturday,
received Stokowskf s personal check. In the same
way Stokowski can be at one time your best friend
and at the very next moment with very slight pro
vocation your bitterest enemy; members of the

204

STOKOWSKI

Philadelphia Orchestra speak of the many times
when Stokowski, away on a trip, would write the
most affectionate letters to members of his orchestra,
only to dismiss them the moment he returned from
his vacation.

One can, however, point to certain very definite,
and important traits in Stokowski's character which
have vitally influenced his art. There is, first and
foremost, his love for theatricalism. There can be
no doubt that Stokowski, during his entire career,
has always employed the most efficacious histrionics
in presenting himself to the audiences, and has
seemed to find particular delight in them. He is
something of the born press-agent. His art has
always been accompanied by the proper strategy to
arouse the enthusiasm and curiosity of the public.
He was one of the first conductors in America to
make a periodic practice of conducting without a
score at the concert; and, when conducting from
memory no longer attracted attention to him, he dis
pensed with the baton. He has timed his entrances
on the stage for the effect they will have on the audi
ence, and he has assumed a Polish accent in his
speech which mysteriously deserts him when he loses
his temper. When he feels that the audiences are
beginning to accept his programs too complacently,
he will present a concert whose unorthodoxy will

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

tear them from their smugness; and when he senses
that he Is being taken too much for granted he will
either threaten a resignation or take a leave-of-ab-
senee.

He is a master of dramatic gestures. It was not
an accident that one of his early years with the Phila
delphia Orchestra was marked, two decades ago, by
a performance of Mahler's Eighth Symphony a
work which called for double orchestra, triple chorus
(not to speak of considerable bravery on the part of
a conductor who knew that his audiences were ill-
disposed to Mahler) which he conducted entirely
from memory. Nor was it a coincidence, I feel con
fident, that the electric news of his resignation from
the Philadelphia Orchestra, in the winter of 1934,
was announced in the newspapers at the same time
that Stokowski was giving poignant performances
of Bach's grandiose It-minor Mass in Philadelphia
and New York. Perhaps there was no cause-and-
effect in Toscanini's magnificent success as guest
conductor of the New York Philharmonic in 1925-6
which removed every other conductor to an ob
scure background and Stokowski's sudden decision
to take a year's leave of absence to study Indian and
Japanese music. In any case, Stokowski was not
away long enough to learn even the elements of
Oriental music, but his absence was sufficiently pro-

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longed to have him sorely missed* Incompetent
guest-conductors, substituting for Stokowski, per
sistently reminded the Philadelphia audiences how
truly indispensable he was to them. His return,
therefore, was a magnificent triumph and Stokow-
ski remains, perhaps, the only conductor in America
whose lustre has not been somewhat dimmed by Tos-
caninf s prolonged brilliance.

This love for the dramatic touch, for the theatrical
gesture, is as important in Stokowski's artistic as in
his personal make-up.

Equally significant, is his keen intellect. A lover
of great literature (Dostoyevsky means as much to
him as Bach), a student of philosophy, a lover of
every phase of culture, he possesses an intellectual
hunger that Is as insatiable as it is healthy* I do
not agree with those writers on Stokowski who point
to his innumerable experiments and innovations as
symptoms of his love for exhibitionism; those who
know Stokowski well realize how sincere he is at the
moment he poses the new idea, and how it springs
from his enormous and inexhaustible intellectual
curiosity. When, in first approaching radio, he at
tempted to learn something about the science of
transmission in order to improve the quality of or
chestral broadcasting, and when, in recording, he
spent many days in the laboratory ever eager to

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

gain an intimate knowledge of the means through
which his music was to be brought to the great public
it was not merely for self-advertisement but out of
a desire to enrich his knowledge. And it can be said
much to Stokowski's credit! that not merely is
his scientific knowledge far from superficial but that,
with his blundering experiments and penetrating
suggestions, he has accomplished much in improving
the quality of broadcasting and recording orchestral
music.

In the same way, he is mentally always keenly
alive, always searching for new ways with which to
further his musical art. His many experiments are
the inevitable results. Several years ago, Stokowski
decided to experiment with visual colors wedded to
music. A series of hues were flashed upon the
screen while the men performed Rimsky-Korsakoff 's
ScheJierezade. The colors were intended to heighten
the effectiveness of the music. At another time he
announced that henceforth applause must be dis
pensed with at his concerts because the concert-
hall, he felt, was really a temple of music. And at
still another concert, he tried to dispense with light
("music," he said, "should be heard and not seen"),
realizing that the audience was focusing too much
attention upon the conductor, and too little upon
the music. He has attempted to create a process to

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STOEOWSKI

record the vocal and orchestral music of operas by
electrical transmission and synchronizing this music
with the histrionics of actors who look and act their
parts thereby freeing opera from so many of its
present-day visual absurdities. He is always experi
menting with the position of the instruments on the
platform, in order to improve sonority, and with
new instruments added to the present-day sym
phonic choir (the Thereminvox ether music was
for a long time a permanent member of his organiza
tion) . He has dispensed with the concertmaster, in
order to give each of his violinists a sense of
conductorial responsibility, and he tried to free
all the violinists of the life-long tyranny of bowing-
together. He has ventured to train some of his
orchestra-men as conductors at the rehearsals, feeling
that there does not exist sufficient opportunity for
a potential conductor to disclose his latent talents.
He is always experimenting with programs, and is
inquisitive about every new direction towards which
the musical art tends. He even hopes that Oriental
systems will be included in our Western musical
thought.

His innumerable ventures, in short, migiit fill
many pages. He is always working in new direc
tions, in unexplored fields, with the hope of finding
new vistas for music. Of course, in most cases, his

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

experiments have proved failures, and they were
instantly discarded. Stokowski, after all, was grop
ing blindly in dark corners; it was to be expected
that he should frequently falter. But his intellectual
alertness is something to be grateful for. Stagnation
and smugness are impossible with a mind so restless
and so keen as Stokowski's. He is always attuned
to new times and conditions, always seeking new
avenues through which musical expression may flow.
In consequence, his concerts have always been and,
probably, always will be vital and alive and impor
tant, always reflecting the vigorous and healthy
mentality of their conductor. What matter if Sto-
kowski's experiments do not reach successful realiza
tion in the majority of cases? What is more impor
tant to us is the fact that, as a result, with him
unlike so many other conductors music is not a
combination of dead tissue, but a throbbing, growing
organism.

3.

From whence has this man come?

He was born, not (as so many believe) in Poland,
but in London; the year was 1882. In his youth, he
came to America after having served his apprentice
ship as organist in his native city, and accepted a post
at the St. Bartholomew's Church in "New York.

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LEOPOLD STOKOWSKI

STOKOWSKI

Here, Stokowski distinguished himself as an excel
lent musician with a profound interpretative talent.
His reputation as organist grew until it attracted
towards him the roving eye of the managers of the
recently reorganized Cincinnati Symphony Orches
tra which was searching the musical horizon for a
new conductor. Having alighted upon this dynamic
organist, it realized that it had finally found the ob-
ject of its search. In 1909, Stokowski was offered
and accepted his first conductorial position.

It was to he expected that his first year as con
ductor should have passed without adding consider
ably to his reputation; he was still fumbling with a
new artistic expression. As a matter of fact, some
of the musicians who were in the Cincinnati orches
tra in 1909 have since told us that, at the first re
hearsal, Stokowski was so completely at a loss as to
how to pursue his work that the concertmaster arose
and explained to him minutely the processes through
which a conductor goes during rehearsal. But Sto
kowski could learn quickly* In a surprisingly short
time he had not merely mastered the elusive tech
nique of transferring his conception of a musical
work to his men, but he had also learned the art of
"selling" himself as a personality to his audiences.

For Stokowski, the showman, had already begun
to disclose himself as early as 1910. We find him,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

for example, launching upon an extensive Western
tour with his orchestra (the idea, of course, was his)
especially in cities which had never hefore heard
a symphony-concert and instantly enlarging his
prestige and fame throughout the entire country.
We already find him instituting his informal rela
tionship with his audience, making speeches to ex
plain the music he was ahout to conduct, and inaugu
rating elections whereby the audiences could vote
for special request programs. And in less agreeable
moments, he resorted even in those halcyon days
to sharp speeches. "Please," he once cried out when
the audience, fumbling with the programs, was dis
turbing the music. (The year, mark! was not 1932
when Stokowski made a similar speech in Carnegie
Hall but 1911!). "Please don't do that! We must
have the proper atmosphere. ... I do not want to
scold you or appear disagreeable. . . . We work
hard all week to give you this music, but I cannot
do my best without your aid. I'll give you my best
or I won't give you anything. It is for you to
choose." We find him electrifying his audiences
with the most rebellious modern-music of the day,
even venturing upon an all- American program! It
was, therefore, not very long before the Stokowski
magic was beginning to have a potent effect not
merely upon the audience but also upon the box-

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STOKOWSKI

"T T T T T T

office and not very long before he became, in Cin
cinnati, bathed in limelight.

And then, with the characteristic Stokowski touch,
when he had firmly established himself in Cincin
nati's musical life, Stokowski suddenly handed in his
resignation. The reason, he explained, was the lack
of cooperation between the players and himself. At
the following rehearsal, the entire orchestra rose as
one man, and a spokesman promised Stokowski that
they would henceforth do everything in their power
to please him, if only he would retract his resignation.
"I would immediately withdraw my resignation,"
Stokowski told them, "if a single one of you were
in danger of his position. But there are many con
ductors more capable than myself, and one of them
will be brought here to continue the work of this or
chestra. None of you is in any danger of losing his
livelihood, so I am afraid that there is no necessity
for me to retract my decision."

It may have been a coincidence (as Stokowski
later emphasized) but this resignation from the Cin
cinnati Symphony Orchestra was made on March,
1912, and three months later, while touring through
Europe, Stokowski suddenly announced that he had
accepted the post of conductor with the Philadelphia
Symphony orchestra at the-then generous salary of

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

$600 a performance, and full control of the artistic
policies of the organization.

Thus, Stokowski was brought to the orchestra
which he immortalized and which brought him, in
turn, his world-wide fame. For more than two
decades his name has become synonymous with that
of his orchestra and it is impossible to mention the
Philadelphia Orchestra without, in turn, thinking
of Stokowski. For two decades, Stokowski has been
fiercely asserting his own will, ref using v to bow to
any decisions of managers or advice of patrons.
When he suggested performing the grandiose Mah
ler Eighth Symphony, the management refused to
permit a performance that would entail such ex
penditure; needless to say, the Eighth Symphony
was performed and surprisingly enough, there were
no financial losses. When Stokowski demanded
many more rehearsals than was customary, once
again the management complained that the expense
would be ruinous, and once again Stokowski had his
own way. He has been having his own way ever
since performing the music he desires, having the
type of musicians in his orchestra he prefers, listen
ing to the advice and complaints of no one. The
result has been the development of one of the most
perfect orchestras in the world, and the establish-

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STOKOWSKI

ment of Its conductor as one of the most fascinating
figures in all music.

A word should, perhaps, be spoken about the re
cent friction between the directors of the Phila
delphia Orchestra and Stokowski which, in the winter
of 1934, resulted in the startling resignation of the
conductor from a post he held with such glory for
more than twenty years. It was no secret that the
directors and Stokowski had had very serious alter
cations, although I seriously doubt if the precise
cause of Stokowski's resignation will ever be known.
There are some who point to the fact that, in 1934,
the orchestra had instituted a new policy of alter
nating symphony-concerts with opera (the latter
under conductors other than Stokowski) with such
success that much of the limelight was stolen from
Stokowski; and Stokowski could not look with favor
upon such a situation. There are some who recall that
in 1926 one of StokowsM's fondest dreams was to
reach realization an extended tour of the orchestra
throughout the principal cities of Europe only to
collapse at the last moment; Stokowski has not for
gotten that dream. Still others speak of the fact
that Stokowski's endless performances of modern
musical works was a persistent source of irritation
with the forces in power, who felt that the concerts
would be even better attended if Stokowski leaned

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

more heavily upon thrice-familiar music. In any
case, an open break was inevitable. Stokowski is
not the man for compromises ; and the directors were
becoming stubborn. Resignation was the next step
with Stokowski. With Philadelphia rested the choice
as to whom they preferred to guide the destinies of
their orchestra the directors or the conductor-
It is only too well known what the decision of
Philadelphia has been. Stokowski retracted his
resignation on the condition that he be given the sole
voice in the choice of directors, manager, and full
command of the policies of the orchestra. Now,
more than ever, is the Philadelphia Orchestra linked
with its fiery conductor.

4.

It may come as a surprise to the swollen army of
Stokowski worshippers that there exist any number
of sincere musicians who raise a skeptical eyebrow
each time they hear adulation and praise poured out
so lavishly for Stokowski, and who do not hesitate
to criticize him in no uncertain terms as a conductor.
These disparaging criticisms invariably point a
finger at Stokowski's performances of Beethoven
so often marred by exaggerations of dynamics and
tempi to bring greater dramatic intensity to the
music to his overromanticized readings of Mozart,

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STOKOWSKI

and to the general nervousness and hysteria of so
many of his other performances.

It is, however, not difficult for a critic with balance
and perspective to weigh the pros and cons of the
argument and arrive at an equitable estimate of
StokowsM as a conductor. Stokowski, it must be
understood at once, is a conductor who is swept by
his temperament, and by intuitive forces. He reacts
to music sensitively, sincerely, passionately, much
more with heart than with mind. He is essentially
the poet. He does not, like so many other admirable
conductors, first study a score minutely, put a mi
croscope over each phrase and patiently dissect each
effect and then come to rehearsals with a clearly
analyzed interpretation in his mind. He will, rather,
read a score as one might a book, react to certain
pages and moods emotionally, and then attempt to
give expression to his personal feelings. He permits
his heart and temperament to guide him in all of his
interpretations. It is for this reason that Stokowski
never completes his work, at rehearsals, but expects
his men to follow his beat alertly at the concert as,
by gestures, grimaces and the rhythmic pattern of
his hands, he attempts to convey to them what he
feels and precisely what effects he wishes them to
produce.

This method of conducting yields, at different

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

times, admirable and deplorable results. At its best,
it produces a spontaneity, freshness, emotional inten
sity, a vitality and moving power which more calcu
lating conductors often fail to attain through the
scientific method. And yet, this same method leads
at times to very sorry consequences : unbalanced in
terpretations in which greater emphasis is placed
upon details than upon the work as a whole; over-
stressed accentuations and effects, exaggerated emo-
tionalizations and histrionics.

This, to a great degree, epitomizes the strength
and weakness of Leopold Stokowski. His marvel
ous dramatic instinct, his Hellenic devotion to
Beauty sweep him at times in these personal, intu
itive performances to dazzling heights of great
ness. I have heard him perform Bach (particularly
in his own felicitous arrangements), the Brahms
First Symphony^ the Wagner Liebesnacht music
from Tristan., and the CJireifreitagzauber music
from Parsifal, the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies of
Sibelius, and music of Stravinsky, Ravel and Shosta-
kowitch in a manner which place them proudly at
the side of the great performances of the foremost
conductors of all-time. Yet, his temperament is at
a loss to cope with the exquisite classic line and har
monic fragility of Haydn and Mozart (it is for
this reason that Stokowski almost never performs

218

STOKOWSKI

Haydn, and chooses only the G-minor and the Jupi
ter Symphonies with which to represent Mozart on
his programs), or to attain an organic whole out of
a Beethoven symphony which is infinitely more than
a mere sum of its parts. His temperament likewise
will tempt him to caress melodic lines until they
become cloying, to intensify dramatic climaxes out
of proportion to the general design of a composition,
to concentrate so keenly upon the general effect he
is attempting to reproduce that he will often tolerate
loose and unclean playing among the men.

These weaknesses and I lament them strongly
will, I feel, ultimately exempt Stokowski from the
Valhalla of the world's supremely great conductors.
Versatile he most certainly is not ; and, too often, his
conception is not of the sublimest. As an artist, as
a musician, as a personality his stature is consider
ably smaller than those of Karl Muck, Felix
Weingartner or Arturo ToscaninL But, though I
recognize Stokowskf s faults, I feel that only a
myopic vision will permit itself to be blurred by
them and prevent it from perceiving his equally im
pressive virtues. As a force in our musical life, his
importance cannot be overestimated. The twenty
years he has conducted the Philadelphia orchestra
have been important musically: Many of the mod
ern works which today we so smugly accept as

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

classics were first valiantly sponsored by Stokowski;
the modern composer endowed with a new speech
and an original message could always find a haven
on Stokowskf s programs, and always a sympathetic
and understanding performance under his baton.
And the distant past has received as flattering atten
tion from Stokowski as the present: his all-Bach
programs are aesthetic feasts; and he frequently
reminds us that composers like Purcell, Vivaldi,
Palestrina and Monteverde were creators of great
importance.

Finally, as I have already mentioned, Stokowski
is in certain works a rare and sensitive interpreter.
There are times when Stokowski is moved by in
spiration to performances of incomparable brilliance,
depth, drama and beauty.

Stokowski may not be included in the realm of
the greatest conductors of our age; but he should
always be numbered among the great.

5.

Rehearsals under Stokowski are by no means the
routine performances that they have been under
Muck or Weingartner. They are, as a matter of
fact, so full of surprises tjhat his men are at a loss to
know what next to expect. Stokowski is convinced
that the orchestra can understand a composition

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STQKOWSKI

much better if it is in a psychological frame of mind
to perform it. Hence he will bring a pagan icon to
the rehearsals of Henry Eicheim's Bali and, burning
incense in it, will place it in front of the orchestra
while it reviews the work. Hence, too, Stokowski's
numerous speeches on metaphysics or aesthetics or
history or morality before opening the score of a
work he is about to rehearse. The psychological
preliminaries over, Stokowski will briefly and firmly
explain how he wishes a musical work to be played,
and will demand that the players follow him much
more strictly than they do the printed page. Then
except with difficult works, or first performances
he will concentrate only upon certain essential
details in the music. He will never rehearse fre
quently passages of a classic symphony, but will go
over it once or twice. Then, through his gestures,
he will attempt to inflame the players with enthu
siasm and zest.

There are certain conductors, like Sir Thomas
Beecham or Walter Darnrosch, who attempt to put
their men into the proper frame of mind by instilling
joviality and humor into rehearsals. Humor and
levity, however, have little place in Stokowskf s re
hearsals, except in very rare instances when he is
in a particularly jovial mood; and even then his
levity is as ephemeral as lightning, and he will sud-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

denly return to his severity and despotism, and will
even harshly upbraid the men for having laughed a
moment before at his witticism. He is a very hard
taskmaster, and very severe. It is said that at one
unsatisfactory rehearsal, several years ago, Stokow-
ski calmly took out his pocket-watch and told the
orchestra that whoever was unable to play within the
next ten minutes the disputed passage in the manner
he had just explained, would be dismissed at the end
of the season; and Stokowski, as his men know too
well, is not given to making idle threats. His com
ments, at rehearsals, can often cut into the players'
sensibilities as sharply as a knife. At one time, dis
pleased with the manner in which the concertmaster
of the orchestra performed, he said curtly: "Gentle
men! Will the first violins please play together?
And will the virtuosos of the orchestra kindly con
descend to join them?" And at another rehearsal,
he flung this criticism at the wood-wind-players:
"This is not a sty, gentlemen! You are squealing
like pigs 1"

On performing a new work, Stokowski at the
first rehearsal will sit in the back of the auditorium,
and have an assistant conductor direct the music
from beginning to end, as he makes profuse notes.
An intricate lighting system links his seat with the
assistant conductor's desk, and when Stokowski

222

STOKOWSKI

wishes a passage to be replayed he signals to the
conductor to stop. With Ms ideas on the new work
clear in his mind, Stokowski will come to the plat
form and begin to shape his interpretation. Often,
after hearing a work, Stokowski will decide that he
will not perform it. For he has often said that he
finds it impossible to perform a piece of music
irrespective of how excellent it is if he does not
feel it intimately with his heart and emotions.

6.

During his twenty or more years with the Phila
delphia Orchestra, his orchestral transcriptions of
the music of Bach have played such an important
role on his programs that, I feel, no study of Sto
kowski can be complete without considering them.

Few tasks are so thankless as that of transcription.
If a transcriber succeeds in making a work sound
effective in a new dress, the praise invariably returns
to the composer; if the transcriber fails, the blame is
inevitably his own. Transcribing is, therefore, a
monumental labor of love, bringing with it no re
wards except the satisfaction of having done a worth
while job well. It is for this reason that Stokowski
has never received half the praise he deserves in a
field where he has proved himself to be unusually
important.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

He is, in many respects, the ideal transcriber. He
brings to his task a profound love for the music of
Bach, so profound that nothing in the world would
tempt him to tamper with the original conception of
the master. He served his musical apprenticeship
on the organ and how better can one know the
music of Bach intimately than through the organ?
He has a prodigious knowledge of orchestration and
instrumentation at his beck and call. Finally, he
succeeds in completely submerging his own person
ality in his work, never leaving on the music betray
ing fingerprints. As a result, when one hears, for
example, Respighi's arrangements of Bach, one
hears half-Respighi and half -Bach; but in the case
of Stokowski, one hears Bach and Bach alone.

Stokowski's transcriptions are extraordinary, not
only because he has succeeded in bringing new rich
ness to great music through the medium of a sym
phony-orchestra, but also because, in this new garb,
the music is still true in every respect to the spirit
of Bach. When Stokowski transcribes from the
organ, he has always tried to retain something of the
organ-quality of the music. In the case of the cho
rale, Wir Glauben one can almost hear the stops of
the organ. In the celebrated Toccata and Fugue in
D minor,, Stokowski imitated the swell of sound of
the organ with such fidelity that there are moments

224

STQKOWSKI

when it seems as though a supreme organist is now
performing, except for the hrilliance of color and
clarity of the sonority. Finally, there is always the
utmost simplicity in StokowskTs arrangements.
What Bach tried to say on the original instruments,
Stokowski has attempted to repeat as unpreten
tiously as he can with the orchestra. Much of the
effectiveness of these transcriptions stems from the
fact that they follow their original so closely.

And yet, there will he few to deny that Stokowski
has added something vital to his transcriptions. He
has taken some of the greatest music of the world,
and then increased its effectiveness by the most adroit
use of instrumentation. The superh close to the
Passacaglia in C-minor was always a thrilling ex
perience on the organ; hut it was never so stunning
as when Stokowski conducts it in his own arrange
ment. The piano Prelude in E-flat minor is a gem
when played well ; and yet, under Stokowski's fingers
it seems to have acquired an altogether new poign
ancy that is heartbreaking. The inner voices that
course and ebb through the "little" Fugue in
G-minor are brought out with a marvelous, often
breath-taking, effect in Stokowski's resplendent or
chestration. And if, at times (as in the arrange
ment of the violin Chaconne) Stokowski yields to
overdramatization and emotional hysterics, or (as in

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

the Siciliano) he makes an orchestral arrangement
of a piece of music which sounds infinitely more ef
fective in its original, these are the exceptions in his
usually successful attempt to bring new life to old
masterpieces.

At his best, Stokowski has brought out the hidden
color, the latent wealth, the inherent greatness of
each Bach work he has transcribed. Under his ar
rangements, this music has not only been rejuve
nated so to speak but its life has been prolonged,
one feels, as long as the symphony-orchestra remains
the greatest voice for musical expression.

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Ill

KOUSSEVITZKY

1.

fTHJHE years following the World War found
A the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a pitiable
plight. Under the ineffectual leadership of Henri
Rabaud (1918-1920) the orchestra could not main
tain its former supreme standards of excellence, and
its deterioration became strikingly noticeable. With
Pierre Monteux (1920-1924) the decline became
even more alarm ing. Not merely had some of the
ablest musicians of the orchestra been lured to New
York and Philadelphia by handsome salaries, but
with the failure of a general strike to establish a
union in the orchestra more than twenty of the most
competent musicians, including the concertmaster,
resigned peremptorily. The orchestra, therefore,
became a shoddy skeleton of its former self and
Pierre Monteux, who is a much finer musician and
interpreter than he is a drillmaster and technician,
was altogether incapable of concealing the yawning
gaps in the orchestra's texture. Moreover, in con
trast to the performances Karl Muck had given but

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

a few years before, the concerts under Monteux
seemed particularly uninspiring and prosaic. As a
result, the concerts lost their appeal and importance,
and the attendance dwindled terrifyingly. Ob
viously, a drastic reform was necessary to save this
formerly great orchestra from complete disorgani
zation and collapse.

And the first movement in this drastic reform
came in 1924 when Serge Koussevitzky was ap
pointed the permanent conductor.

Long before Koussevitzky came to America, his
name had been encircled by a halo of glamor. From
the distance of three thousand miles, his figure had
been looming greater and greater, in the years before
and after the War, until it seemed to fill the en
tire musical horizon. His rise in Russia as one of
its greatest conductors, his further triumphs in Paris
and London, particularly as an apostle of modern
Russian music, had already become something of a
legend to be repeated from mouth to mouth wherever
music-lovers gathered. Here, then, seemed to be the
personality who could lift the Boston Symphony
Orchestra from its stagnancy and decay. And in
his hands full power was entrusted to bring about a
metamorphosis.

The moment Koussevitzky came to Boston, he
made it emphatically apparent that he had every

228

Roberts Studio

SERGE KOUSSEVITZKY

KOUSSEVITZKY

intention of exerting his power. Almost within one
season, the body and face of the orchestra changed
unrecognizably. The older players were pensioned ;
those of the newer arrivals who could not approach
the standards imposed by Koussevitzky were ruth
lessly dismissed. And every corner of the country
was carefully sifted for the best orchestral material
that could be purchased. With the symphony-
orchestra completely reconstructed, Koussevitzky
then instituted his innumerable, painstaking rehears
als to thrash this new orchestra into discipline and
efficiency.

Nor did his reforms end here. Koussevitzky's
mission was not merely to create a great symphonic
organization but also to restore the one-time glory to
the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and once again to
make its name synonymous with the highest ideals of
the musical art. Henceforth, the programs in Boston
were not to pander to public tastes, but were to be
electric in their experimentalism. Koussevitzky ban
ished the weekly "star soloist" from his programs
(these soloists had become an integral part of the
Boston Symphony concerts with Rabaud and Mon-
teux, in an attempt to lure audiences into the sym
phony-hall) and in his place Koussevitzky enthroned
the modern composers. Finally, Koussevitzky once
again restored enchantment and fascination to con-

229

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

ducting. In the eyes of the Boston audiences, both
Rabaud and Monteux had been unimpressive person
alities. But with Koussevitzky's flair for showman
ship, with his suave mannerisms and dictatorial air,
the baton once again acquired an electric appeal for
the music public, and the conductor's podium once
again became enveloped in glamor.

Thus, for the first time since 1918, a successor
worthy to hold the stick of Karl Muck had been
found. And with its cutting, piercing beat it re
stored, at last, the greatness that the Boston Sym
phony Orchestra had once enjoyed.

2.

When Serge Koussevitzky was a boy in Russia
(he was born in Tver, in 1874) he would often, in
play, simulate being a leader of a symphony-orches
tra. He would line up rows of empty chairs in the
parlor, and in front of these he would place a music-
stand and the open score of his favorite symphony.
Then he would go through the formalities. Entering
the parlor stiffly, he would majestically bow to the
empty seats and then, rapping his stick sharply on
his stand, would give the imaginary orchestra the
signal to begin. Suddenly he would begin to gesture
wildly, and would sing the different parts of the or
chestral score at the top of his voice,

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KOUSSEVITZEY

This ambition to become a conductor, which made
its presence felt so strongly from the earliest years,
drew Koussevitzky magnetically to the baton. We
are told that, even as a child of seven, he found an
opportunity to direct a small orchestra in an orches
tral work of his own composition. Later, as a stu
dent in Berlin, one of his first accomplishments was
to organize a student-orchestra which could explore,
under his guidance, the music of Beethoven and
Wagner. In those student days his leisure hours
were spent in the symphony-hall, particularly at the
concerts of Artur Nikisch, where he not only
smudged the pages of his scores with notations of
Nikisch's interpretations, but he also made a mental
picture of Nikisch's gestures and movements so that
he might be able to reproduce them in his own con
ducting.

As a graduate from the Royal High School of
Music in Berlin and the Philharmonic School of
Music in, Moscow, and as a double-bass performer
of very obvious talent, the guiding force in Kous-
sevitzky's life was still this indestructible desire to
become a conductor. His happiest hours were spent
with nose buried in symphony-scores, and with baton
in hand carefully beating the rhythm of the music.
When he acquired a prestige with his double-bass
which encircled half the globe, he revealed no hesi-

231

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

tancy or vacillation in exchanging his world-famous
double-bass for a baton when the first opportunity
presented itself.

His ambition to become an orchestra-leader was
to materialize in an unexpected fashion. In 1905
(by this time he had concertized with enormous suc
cess in Germany, England, and France where he
was generally conceded to be the Fritz Kreisler or
the Pablo Casals of his instrument), he married the
daughter of one of the wealthiest merchants in Rus
sia. On the eve of the wedding, the merchant ap
proached his prospective son-in-law and, with a smile
of satisfaction beaming upon his face, inquired what
the young man wished as a wedding-gift from his
father-in-law. Money? A palatial home? A con
servatory of music, perhaps? Koussevitzky had not
forgotten his dream. With the simplicity of one
who knew precisely what he wanted, he answered
that his greatest wish was nothing more or less than
a complete symphony-orchestra, to do with as he
wished. . The smile of satisfaction was erased from
the merchant's face, and a look of incredulity and
bewilderment supplanted it. A symphony-orches
tra? But the young musician insisted that there was
nothing else his heart desired more than this. As
a result, several months after his prolonged honey
moon in Germany, young Koussevitzky gathered

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KOUSSEVITZKY

the foremost musicians of Russia to Moscow for the
purpose of founding a symphony-orchestra. After
careful selection and discrimination, Koussevitzky
engaged eighty-five men, and, in 1907, the first of
the Koussevitzky concerts took place in Moscow.

Now that Koussevitzky held in his hands the toy
which, for so many years he had possessed only in
imagination, he had no intention of utilizing it
merely for self -amusement. He realized that it
could he a powerful means for the spreading of
great music among his fellow-countrymen. Thus,
he was to introduce into his concerts his amazing
initiative and resource from the very first. Com
posers whose music was rarely heard in Russia were
introduced on his programs, and even such modern
Russian composers as Skryahin and Stravinsky
were first to find performance in Russia under Kous
sevitzky. Moreover, Koussevitzky introduced a
series of Festivals, each devoted to one composer,
which became annually the major artistic event in
Russia; his Festivals devoted to Bach, Beethoven,
Tschaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakoff etc. were striking
innovations for musical Russia, and they brought to
their conductor great prestige.

But Koussevitzky's greatest artistic achievement
with his orchestra was the extensive tours through
the small towns of the Volga which he undertook in

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

1910. He had, for a long time, nursed the dream
of bringing the glories of symphonic music to those
hamlets and secluded villages of Russia where the
art of music was virtually a stranger. And so, char
tering a special steamer, he traveled with his men
down the Volga, visiting obscure towns, and bring
ing Beethoven, Brahms, Wagner and Tschaikovsky
to peasants with hard, cracked faces who, momen
tarily, deserted their shovels, to listen to these
strange, magnificent sounds. At one town, Kous-
sevitzky's symphony-orchestra was such a curiosity
that we are told by his biographer, Arthur Lourie
a delegate of merchants came to the conductor to
request him to place the harp in the very front of
the orchestra because some of them had seen the
instrument unloaded from the boat and were eager
to know how it was played!

Koussevitzky traveled more than twenty-three
hundred miles with his orchestra, at a personal ex
pense of more than a hundred thousand dollars, to
preach his gospel of beauty. And it was to have a
vital effect. Koussevitzky informs us that though,
at first, peasants and merchants came to his concerts
in niggardly handf uls, and only out of curiosity, they
were soon to swarm in hundreds out of a sincere
adoration for the music he had brought them. In
this fashion, the name of Koussevitzky became, along

234

KOUSSEVITZKY

the banks of the Volga, encased in legend; it repre
sented a humanitarian and a musician who like
some mythological Volga Boatman brought with
him, wherever he came, new worlds of beauty.

These exploits brought enormous fame to Kous-
sevitzky, and when he returned to Moscow he was
recognized as one of the foremost conductors in
Russia. His fame became so great that, as early as
1916, he received offers to come to America. Kous-
sevitzky, however, was to remain in Europe eight
years longer. When the Revolution broke out in
Russia, his preeminent position among contemporary
Russian conductors was recognized by the Soviet
Union, and he was appointed the director of the
Russian State Orchestras. This position he held
until 1920, and relinquished it only because inter
ference from the State Department made it impos
sible for him to pursue his work with his customary
fervor and devotion. He, therefore, went to Paris,
there to establish the Concerts K&ussevitzky of
world-fame.

Formerly preaching the gospel of European music
to Russian audiences, Koussevitzky was now to enter
a new phase in his career spreading the propaganda
for contemporary Russian music to European music-
lovers. And under his flaming performances, the
music of Skryabin, Moussorgsky, Stravinsky, Rim-

235

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

sky-Korsakoff and Miaskovsky acquired great vogue
in important European cities.

But the richest phase of Koussevitzky's career
with the baton stems from 1924, when he came to
Boston. Here, more than ever before, he asserted
himself as a distinct personality, a musical force of
great power, and a prophet of modern music.

3.

Serge Koussevitzky's years with the Boston Sym
phony Orchestra have undeniably placed him among
the great conductors of our time. In his many per
formances during his American career, Koussevit-
zky has revealed a rich imagination, a refined poetry,
a youthful freshness and a power that have brought
new horizons to many of the works he has performed.

As a conductor, Koussevitzky's instinct for build
ing dramatic effects, for color, for correct phrasing,
for expressive dynamics has aroused considerable
comment and admiration. But other characteristics
of Koussevitzky's art are of equal importance. His
meticulous sense for rhythm is extraordinarily pre
cise, and he is endowed with an unusual ability to
cull sonorities of great richness from the brasses and
a wonderfully singing tone from the strings. A
marvelous technician with the orchestra, Koussevit-
zky knows its resources as few conductors do, and

236

KOUSSEVITZKY

knows how to exploit these resources to best advan
tage. A complete command over his men whom
he has drilled to a point where he can receive, almost
as a reflex-action, any response he seeks gives all
of his performances a technical sureness which has
never been known to falter. He is not a mere metro
nome, and he has often expressed his contempt for
those conductors who do no more than beat time at
the concert. Koussevitzky expresses his individual
ity with each movement of his hand and body, and
often induces his orchestra through this means to
rise to heights of great inspiration in its playing.

Like Stokowski, Koussevitzky conducts more with
emotion than with intellect. He responds to music
intuitively and, in his interpretations, attempts to
give expression to his feelings and emotions experi
ence while first hearing the score. His method of
preparing a new composition for performance is to
have a competent sight-reader perform the work for
him on the piano several times from beginning to
end. 1 Koussevitzky will listen attentively, and as
he listens his interpretation acquires body and shape

i Two or three years ago, a ridiculous but widely circulated rumor
hinted that it was this assisting pianist, and not Dr. Koussevitzky,
who was responsible for the high standard of performances of the
Boston Symphony Orchestra. These rumors went to the absurd ex
tremes of suggesting that Koussevitzky could not even read a score
an amazing accusation about one who, at one time, was the world's
greatest double-bass virtuoso!

237

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

in his mind. He has an enormous faculty for per
ceiving the design, and the inherent messages, of
even the most complicated works at a single hearing;
he has heen known to listen to a new composition
while reading a book, and then criticizing it with
penetration and acumen. In the same fashion, hear
ing the pianist perform a new piece of music, he will
know precisely how it should sound in performance.
At the rehearsal, there is no groping or stumbling
where the conductor is concerned. Methodical as a
business man, Koussevitzky's rehearsals are strictly
routinized. He knows clearly and precisely every
effect he seeks, and he explains his desires firmly and
tersely, without dramatics or hysterics.

While Koussevitzky at his best is a singularly in
spired and inspiring conductor and while he is at
his best more frequently than not he swings from
greatness to mediocrity and from mediocrity to great
ness with the amazing consistency of a pendulum.
Regular attendance at the concerts of the Boston
Symphony Orchestra is often like a ride upon some
spiritual scenic railway which, now, lifts the listener
heavenwards and then, suddenly, sinks him to depths.
Not only is Koussevitzky capable of a stunning per
formance of one work, and a lethargic reading of an
other, at the same concert, but very often he will play
one and the same work brilliantly upon one occasion

238

KOUSSEVITZKY

and then, a few weeks or months later, will give it the
affected and pompous reading of a third-rate Ger
man bandmaster,

The truth is that, being essentially a romanticist
and poet, Koussevitzky is not capable of performing
a work with enthusiasm and inspiration unless he
feels a very close and sensitive affinity with it. Cer
tain works hold no fascination for him, and when he
attempts to perform these he is discouragingly pe
destrian and all too obviously insincere. Also, there
are times when, for one reason or another, he is
unable to respond emotionally even to a favorite
work of his, and at such times his baton mysteriously
loses its sting and driving power. Yet, shortly
thereafter, his enthusiasm will return and the great
ness of his conception will be restored to the musical
work.

When the flame burns hot within him, his Beetho
ven can be grandiose, his Mendelssohn angelic, his
Brahms profound, his Tschaikovsky poignant. But
his temperament and his talents respond most ef
fectively to the brilliant scoring, the dynamic
rhythms and the pungent harmonic schemes of the
modern composers. He is, probably, at his best in
giving expression to the excitable, hyperthyroid ut
terances of modernists. Mr. Ernest Newman has
commented, with his customary penetration, that one

239

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

of the outstanding qualities of Koussevitzky as a con
ductor is his ability, even in works of the greatest
excitability, to retain in his fingers the reins of the
performance. "The more the artist is on fire, the
cooler have to be the head and hand that direct the
fire. Koussevitzky has the central ice in an extraor
dinary degree. I believe that it would be hardly
possible to raise some works to higher pitch of nerv
ous incandescence than he does ; but the nervousness
never gets out of hand. It is Koussevitzky's servant,
not master. The excitement is always perfectly
under control; one great plastic line runs round and
through the work." It is, probably, for this reason
that in the music of Berlioz, Skryabin, Sibelius,
Ravel, Koussevitzky speaks with his baton a lan
guage which only a handful of conductors have been
known to equal.

240

IV

A GROUP OF DISTINGUISHED
GUESTS

1.

Y I ^HE guest-conductor vogue, which often makes
JL it imperative to bring as many as five different
conductors a season to one and the same orchestra,
has reached its greatest importance within recent
date. Before 1920, a variety of hatons was not an
indispensible feature of the concert-platform, and
there were many seasons in which one conductor was
deemed sufficient to carry an orchestra through an
entire year of concerts. A new personality upon the
conductor's platform was, at that time, a rare event.
Today, however, batons change hands at our sym
phony concerts all too frequently. One cannot
lament too strongly an innovation which not only
has brought to the symphony-hall something of the
appeal of a vaudeville-show but which also, truth
to tell, is injurious both to the orchestra and the
conductor. Great orchestras can never be the prod
uct of multiple personalities; an orchestra, after all,
is not a chameleon that can instantly change its colors

241

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

to conform plastically to the temperament of every
new conductor and, inevitably, its performances
must suffer. I, personally, do not believe that that
marvelous instrument that was the Philadelphia
Symphony Orchestra several years ago when Leo
pold Stokowski had been virtually its only conductor
for more than a decade is so perfect today, with
guest-conductors dividing among themselves half of
each season. And, likewise, I believe that the unique
technical strength of the Boston Symphony Orches
tra lies in the fact that few intruders have been per
mitted to trespass upon Mr. Koussevitzky's territory
since 1924.

Of course, a conductor like Toscanini is sufficiently
great to make the New York Philharmonic his per
sonal instrument after a few appearances. But
other conductors and they include such eminent
artists as Bruno Walter, Erich Kleiber and Otto
Klemperer are unable to produce the results from
the Philharmonic that would most certainly have
been theirs were this orchestra their own for an
entire season. It is too much to expect from a great
orchestra that it maintain constantly an enormously
high standard if, after having learned to adapt itself
to the temperament and desires of one conductor,
it is suddenly thrust in front of new leaders with
new demands, whims and methods. It is also,

242

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

perhaps, too much to expect that conductors com
pelled to make an impression with a few appear
ances, instead of in an entire season should not
yield to sensationalism.

It was Willem Mengelberg who first established
the fad of the guest-conductor as something of a
permanent institution, particularly in New York.
In 1921, fresh from a triumphant career in Holland
where he had brought the Concertgebow Orchestra
to world-prominence particularly as a result of his
festivals devoted to the music of Beethoven, Mahler
and Richard Strauss, Mengelberg arrived in New
York to direct a few guest performances of, and to
inject new interest into, Artur Bodanzky's newly-
organized New Symphony Orchestra. From the
very first concerts he conducted, Mengelberg created
such a volcanic impression that almost immediately
the new style in our musical life was inaugurated.
Henceforth the two major orchestras in New York
the Philharmonic and the New York Symphony
Society were to vie with one another in bringing
to their audiences as guests other leading European
conductors who might inflame the imagination of
the public as hotly as Mengelberg had succeeded in
doing; and other important symphony-orchestras in
America were to follow suit.

243

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

2.

No conductor ever made a debut under conditions
more auspicious than those existing in New York at
the time of Mengelberg's first arrival. In 1921, the
New York music-audience had for several years
heen fed upon an unsavory diet of symphonic-music;
it had accustomed itself to the often lackadaisical,
often careless and always uninspiring performances
of Josef Stransky with the Philharmonic Orchestra,
Walter Damrosch of the New York Symphony So
ciety and, to a less degree, Artur Bodanzky with the
New Symphony Orchestra. And so, when Mengel-
herg first rapped his stick upon the stand, he suc
ceeded in reviving the concertgoing audience from
its musical stupor. Audiences suddenly discovered
that new blood was coursing into the veins of thrice-
familiar music, revivifying them as though the con
ductor had succeeded in breathing an altogether new
breath of life into their nostrils. The public, hearing
their beloved Tschaikovsky and Beethoven sym
phonies, and the tone-poems of Richard Strauss,
suddenly acquiring a new brisk vitality, a vernal
freshness, a power and grandeur they never seemed
to possess before under the somnolent readings of
Stransky and Damrosch, drank the music glutton
ously. For the first time in many years, it realized the

244

Campbell Studio

WILLEM MENGELBERG

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

VV.TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT T'T tTTTTTTT

importance of a great conductor to a musical work.

The result was that Mengelberg was repaid with
idolatry such as few conductors have known in New
York. Perhaps, as one writer was to comment at
this time, the scenes that followed each of Mengel-
berg's concerts with the New Symphony Orchestra
were disgraceful episodes for a temple devoted to
great art. Mengelberg permitted himself to be
kissed and caressed and pampered as though he were
a cinema star. At any rate, one should not condemn
too severely a reaction so spontaneous and sincere as
that which Mengelberg's art inspired among his
New York audiences.

Mengelberg's reign in New York was not destined
to remain permanent, but it was a long one, and dur
ing its first few years was particularly brilliant. The
concert-hall bulged with audiences who suddenly
found a new, revived interest in symphonic-music as
a result of this conductor's rejuvenating perform
ances; and it echoed with the cheers of appreciation
each time Mengelberg completed the performance
of a major symphonic work. Mengelberg definitely
became the man of the hour in New York's musical
life.

And Mengelberg could inspire affection and ad
miration in his orchestra-men as well as in his audi
ence. His was a personality full of magnetic power

245

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

and genius, which could arouse the players as few
conductors in their experience had succeeded in
doing. At the rehearsal, Mengelberg could be ma
jestically imperious and, at the same time, unusually
soft and considerate. He knew his desires, and
firmly demanded that they be carried out. But he
did not believe in scolding; every mistake was gently
pointed out, corrected and forgiven. Quoting from
the valuable biography on Mengelberg by Mrs.
Edna Richolson Sollitt : "Mengelberg can be severe ;
it is even terrible to watch him in a rare moment of
anger, when he maintains a silence that is absolutely
thunderous. But there is always dignity, always
reason and control to the fore, and he never indulges
in nerves, hysteria and temper. And never does a
rehearsal finish in anger, or a player leave his pres
ence with a weight of pain or injustice in his heart."
Mrs. Sollitt gives us a further picture of Mengel
berg at the rehearsal which is particularly illumi
nating in giving us insight into his personality.
"Mengelberg uses a specially designed stand for
rehearsing, with side pieces and a narrow seat across
the back. Theoretically, he rests his arms often on
the sides and sits at ease while working. Actually,
this seldom happens; he is too interested. When
strenuously reminded of long strains to come, and
urged with more than usual vehemence to save him-

246

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

self a little, lie begins by sitting still, sometimes for
several minutes, and using a trifle less energy in his
beat. But comes a passage full of interest and, for
him, what passage is not? and up he springs as if
electrified, which indeed he is. ... Never lived a
man who better loved a bit of fun. Not long ago,
at the end of an hour's repolishing of an overture
already intimately familiar to the players, and after
allowing them to play the last section through, Men-
gelberg led with full vigor up to the final chords,
before he laid down his baton and maliciously
awaited results. Anything more comic than the be
wildered sheep-like confusion which followed would
be hard to imagine and the rehearsal ended in gales
of laughter." a

Mengelberg's influence upon symphonic- music in
America, during this period, was enormously far-
reaching and has never, I feel, been sufficiently
stressed or appreciated. In a short while, he created
a standard for performances so incomparably higher
than what had preceded him that it soon became nec
essary for such conductors as Josef Stransky and
Walter Damrosch, in New York, to withdraw from
the scene and confess that their day was over; and,
as a direct result, a higher type of conductor was

^Mengelberg and the Symphonic Epoch by Edna R. Sollitt: Ives
Washburn, Inc^ Publishers, New York.

247

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

demanded by every major symphony-orchestra in
the country. Mengelberg, moreover, was an im
portant factor in bringing about the mergers of the
New Symphony Orchestra (and, several years later,
the New York Symphony Society) with the new
York Philharmonic, thereby considerably solidify
ing the formerly fragile structure of the latter or
ganization. Then, as the conductor of the New
Philharmonic Symphony Society, he brought about
such a metamorphosis in its technique and artistic
attainments that, when he finally yielded his baton to
Toscanini, it had already become one of the major
symphonic bodies in the world.

Unfortunately, New York audiences were not to
remain faithful to their god. The reasons for this
are multiple* No doubt, the most important was
the fact that Mengelberg had arrived in New York
at a time when the city was impoverished of great
conductors, and so he could instantly assume a regal
position; but, a few years after his arrival, he was
to know the competition of such world-renowned
personalities as Furtwangler and Toscanini. It was
inevitable, therefore, that the enormous admiration
which the public bore for Mengelberg should now be
divided.

But this explanation, important though it is, does
not tell the entire story. For Mengelberg, at his

248

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

best, is one of the foremost conductors of our time,
whose performances need not go hiding in shame in
the face of those of other conductors. I have heard
performances by Mengelberg particularly when he
was directing his own Concertgebow Orchestra
which assured me beyond a question of a doubt
of Mengelberg's superlative qualities as a conductor.
Certainly, in sheer conductorial technique there is
no other conductor, with the possible exception of
Karl Muck, who can match adroitness and skill with
Mengelberg. The Concertgebow Orchestra, for ex
ample, is by no means an excellent orchestra; one
would hesitate even to mention it in the same breath
with some of America's second-rate symphonic-
bodies* Yet, under Mengelberg's discipline its
pliancy and flexibility are extraordinary. It re
sponds to the slightest desires of its conductor's stick
and gestures with sensitivity; it produces the most
subtle effects and nuances that clearly prove that it
is controlled by the hand of a master* Moreover, it
was primarily Mengelberg's consummate technique
that, in a short time, converted the New York
Philharmonic from a mediocre orchestra to one
of the greatest in the world. But Mengelberg
is more than a great technician. In the ability to
give voice to sonorities of full-bodied richness and
grandeur, he has few equals; not even Toscanini

249

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

could take a symphonic organization with obvious
deficiencies and endow it with such depth, strength
and resilience as Mengelberg has done time and
again. Finally, in each of his interpretations, there
is a coherent conception, a marvelously constructed
design in which each pattern is an inextricable part
of the whole. The music always speaks for itself,
guided by a fresh emotion and a keen intellect.

Why, then, did a conductor of such unquestion
able attainments ultimately lose his enormous pres
tige in New York? The answer, I am afraid, is
that after a few seasons in New York, Mengelberg
degenerated artistically from his high peaks of excel
lence and so noticeably that the audiences were
soon to find very little artistic satisfaction in his con
certs.

It is not very difficult to understand why Mengel-
berg's art suffered a sudden decline in New York.
For one thing, when Mengelberg sensed that his
audiences, once so idolatrous, were dividing their
adulation between him and other conductors, it af
fected his performances acutely. He, who until
now had been such a solid and artistically inviolate
conductor, began to resort to the most exaggerated
interpretations in a futile and pathetic gesture to
recapture a lost glory.

Equally important in bringing about the dusk of

250

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

Mengelberg's greatness In ]XTew York was the in
sistence on the part of both public and manager,
after the first three seasons, that Mengelberg change
his programs more frequently. Mengelberg has al
ways been a very slow worker in preparing his con
certs, and he requires long and frequent rehearsals
to attain his ultimate results. Irremediably garru
lous, he cannot rehearse ten bars of music without
delivering a sermon on the import of the music, and
the difference between good and bad playing. He
is eager to have his men understand all the implica
tions of the music they are performing, as well as his
own reactions to it. Then, painfully meticulous
about details, Mengelberg brings a symphony to
shape piece by piece; his method is one of compre
hensive thoroughness. Given all the rehearsals he
requires, Mengelberg's method will bring his per
formances a perfection which few conductors can
emulate. During the early seasons in New York,
Mengelberg solved the problem of the comparatively
few rehearsals allotted to him by performing only
one program an entire week. But when he was com
pelled to instil added variety, by changing his pro
grams over the week-end, four rehearsals proved to
be sorely inadequate for his needs, and he was at a
loss to cope with the situation. He was, therefore,
driven to hurried preparations and, consequently,

251

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

inadequate performances. And it was not long
thereafter before New York audiences which can
be very discerning began to discover a radical
change in Mengelberg's performances and turned
with both their enthusiasms and appreciations to
other conductors.

Mengelberg, of course, realized forcefully that he
had seen the termination of his magnificent reign in
New York, and the realization embittered him t I
recall one rehearsal particularly, when for one of
the few times in his life Mengelberg uncontrollably
lost his temper. This was in the Winter of 1930.
Toscanini had become an idol in New York, and in
another week he was to return for another season of
concerts. During the rehearsal I have in mind, the
men were unusually apathetic to Mengelberg's com
mands and were, for one reason or another, espe
cially slow in following his instructions. Finally,
Mengelberg split his baton into pieces and cried
out: "That's all right, gentlemen! You don't have
to pay any attention to me, you know! Toscanini
will be here next week, and you can spare all of your
effort for Twmf 9 Then, without another word, he
stormed off the stage.

And this, I believe, was one of the last rehearsals
that Mengelberg held in this country.

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3.

The immediate result of Mengelberg's great suc
cess in 1921 was, as I have already mentioned, a
spirited rivalry between the Philharmonic and the
New York Symphony Society to bring Europe's
foremost conductors as guests to New York. From
1922 until its demise, the New York Symphony So
ciety presented such outstanding visitors as Albert
Coates, Bruno Walter, Vladimir Golschmann, Otto
Klemperer, Enrique Fernandez Arbos, Fritz Busch,
Clemens Krauss and Oskar Fried. The New York
Philharmonic was no less energetic. Since the time
of Mengelberg, it has brought to this country Wil-
helm Furtwangler, Willem van Hoogstraten, Fritz
Reiner, Toscanini, Sir Thomas Beecham, Molinari,
Issai Dobrowen and Erich Kleiber.

Not all of these conductors were of gargantuan
stature, to be sure; and many of them had merely
ephemeral appeal at best. Albert Coates, for ex
ample, Willem van Hoogstraten and Fritz Reiner.
Intimate acquaintance with the work of Coates,
Hoogstraten and Reiner disclosed a lack of per
sonality and character in their interpretations. Van
Hoogstraten, therefore, turned to the less exacting
requirements of summer concerts in New York and
winter-seasons in Portland. Albert Coates, after

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

his first few appearances, gave humdrum perform
ances and, as a result, could never enjoy here the
prominence that has since been his in London and
Russia. And it was not until Fritz Reiner passed
from the symphony-hall of Cincinnati to the opera-
house in Philadelphia where his fine instinct for
accompaniment was to make his performances so
memorable that he succeeded in rising above the
shoulders of mediocrity.

It is not difficult to balance tersely the strength
and weakness, and to estimate the relative impor
tance, of many of the other conductors to whom New
York audiences played hosts in Carnegie Hall.
Issai Dobrowen, though not of the first rani: of con
ductors, exhibited much talent at his concerts. His
stick has variety and taste, and it has recently
brought a quiet distinction to the symphony season
in San Francisco. Both Bernardino Molinari and
Enrique Fernandez Arbos revealed an orthodox
technique and a serene approach to classical litera
ture. Molinari, one of the principal symphonic-
conductors of present-day Italy, and Arbos, the
conductor of the Madrid Symphony Orchestra,
revealed their greatest strength in the works of their
native composers. Molinari in the music of older
Italian composers and Arbos in the compositions
of Spain had a particularly vital beat and fresh

254

CLEMENS KRAUSS

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

" ' V Y T Y V"

approach; away from this music both of these con
ductors proved to he in possession of dignity and
intelligence, although not outstanding distinction.

Clemens Krauss, whose performances of Der
Rosenkavdier of Richard Strauss has become a
classic of interpretation in Vienna and Salzburg,
proved disappointing in the symphonic-repertoire.
His loose readings disclosed a lack of penetration
or inherent comprehension of the works he con
ducted, and too frequently were the finer and deeper
qualities of the music absent. His recent positions
as director of the Vienna State Opera, and more
recently of the Berlin State Opera, would tend to
suggest that Krauss' strength lay in the opera-house
rather than in the symphony-hall. But the writer
who has attended many of Krauss* performances in
Vienna and Salzburg failed to find very much sub
tlety or grace in Krauss' readings of the Mozart
operas ; and only in Der Bosenkavalier does he seem
to possess a close affinity with the gorgeous orches
tral effects of Richard Strauss. However, Clemens
Krauss has, I am afraid, seen the termination of his
successful career. To turn from Vienna where he
enjoyed a far greater prominence than he deserved
to Berlin, was a monstrous tactical error. In Ber
lin, he has met antagonism because his performances
never succeeding in measuring up to the stature of

255

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

those of his predecessor, Erich Kleiber. Austria is
now definitely closed to him. And outside of Aus
tria, Krauss has never succeeded in arousing very
much admiration.

Eugene Goossens, from London, proved to be a
scholarly and impressive musician, although his
avoidance of sensationalism and self-advertisement
made it difficult for him to acquire a very extensive
following. Clear, finely carved performances are
always to he expected from his conducting and,
occasionally, in the works of certain contemporary
composers he approaches brilliance. His success
in New York, although not overwhelming, was
sufficiently marked to earn for him, in 1931, a
permanent position with the Cincinnati Symphony
Orchestra.

Much more romantic in temperament than Goos-
sens and much less objective in his approach was
Vladimir Golschmann, one of the younger French
conductors. In 1919, he founded the Concerts
Golschmann in Paris which were so significant in
bringing the most important work of the young
French composers to the attention of the music-
world, and were directed with such keen intelligence,
that they attracted towards him the roving eye of the
directors of the New York Symphony Society, alert
for new conductorial importations. Fiery and dra-

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DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

matic (one might suggest that he is, at times, over-
dramatic to the point of arriving at artificiality)
Golschmann is always warm and individual in his
performances. Today, as the conductor of the St.
Louis Symphony Orchestra, Golschmann has insti
tuted a very vital repertoire.

Oskar Fried, one of the older modern German
conductors, and Fritz Busch, one of the younger,
both came to this country with enormous prestige
behind them the former, for his work as founder
and director of the Berlin Symphony Orchestra, and
the latter for his career with the Dresden Opera*
However, their performances with the New York
Symphony Orchestra were too academic to stir very
great enthusiasm. Schooled in the German tradi
tion of von Biilow, they brought with them the often
f ormulistic and stilted readings of the traditional
German Kapellmeister who knows his score thor
oughly but who has very little either in personality
or in insight to contribute to it.

Sir Thomas Beecham he of the corybantic ges
tures was disconcertingly uneven in his many con
certs in New York, Coming" to America with a
reputation that for two decades had been soaring and
expanding first in London and then throughout
Europe, Beecham brought with him many high ex
pectations. At times, these were more than fulfilled :

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Sir Thomas could rise as an interpreter to heights
which only few conductors of our time could touch;
his Don Quixote of Strauss, his Delius and his
Handel were the creations of a fine intellect, a sensi
tive emotion and a profound interpretative instinct.
And yet, in many other performances his Mozart,
for example, in which he is reputed to be in his ele
ment Sir Thomas could be innocently ingenuous,
guilty of sentimentalization, overrefinement and lack
of a coherent viewpoint. Sir Thomas Beecham is,
without question, a musician of great attainment, a
conductor who must always be ranked high, and a
musical force in England whose indefatigable efforts
on behalf of "opera for the masses" have been of
inestimable significance. But his strangely frequent
fluctuations from greatness to mediocrity must in
evitably keep him, I feel, from the ranks of truly
great conductors.

4.

Both Otto Klemperer and Bruno Walter were
first introduced to America by the New York Sym
phony Society several seasons before they became
important elements in our musical scheme Walter
coming in 1922, and Klemperer following him three
years later. .While both conductors gave perform
ances which, at periodic intervals, possessed unusual

258

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strength, and disclosed conceptions of great magni
tude, their true stature was not apparent at the
time. The reason for this was, to a great degree,
the strong undercurrent of antagonism towards Ger
man conductors that existed at the time in Dr. Dam-
rosch's orchestra, which made it particularly difficult
for these men to draw the necessary response from
the players and, therehy, attain consistently impres
sive performances. Bruno Walter, I understand,
found it so difficult to maintain discipline that, in
spite of himself, he was compelled to tolerate read
ings whose standards were lower than those to which
he had heen accustomed. And Klemperer's awk
ward mannerisms, as well as his peculiar dress (he
rehearsed, wearing a frayed green sweater!) were
not particularly conducive to inspiring great respect
from inimical players. I attended rehearsals of
Klemperer in which I found the conductor pleading
with his men to follow his intentions, as though he
were a schoolboy hegging a picayune favor!

Notwithstanding this enormous obstacle, both
Klemperer and Bruno Walter occasionally brought
dignity and vitality to their readings which were
immediately perceived by critics and the more dis
cerning music-lovers. During their last concerts
with the New York Symphony Society, they per
formed in half -empty halls, but their appeal to a

259

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

small coterie of sincere musicians was a very great
one. When Walter returned, in 1932, to become
one of the permanent conductors of the New York
Philharmonic, to he followed by Otto Klemperer
who assumed the directorship of the Los Angeles
Philharmonic and who gave guest-performances
with the New York Philharmonic and the Philadel
phia orchestras, this exclusive coterie of admirers had
grown in size until it included the bulk of the music-
public. Today, the American music-audience joins
Europe in recognizing both Klemperer and Bruno
Walter as two leading orchestral conductors of our
time.

Bruno Walter was born in Berlin in 1876; Otto
Klemperer in Breslau, in 1885. Both of these con
ductors were befriended in their youth and encour
aged, and given direction in their art by Gustav
Mahler, whom they worshipped as a personality and
as artist. It was Mahler who first turned Bruno
Walter seriously to conducting, when Walter was
still a student at the Stern Conservatory in Berlin;
and it was Mahler who gave Otto Klemperer his first
important conductorial assignment, in Hamburg in
1909. World-prominence first came both to Walter
and Klemperer in the opera-house. In 1922, Klem
perer became the musical director of the Opera
House in Wiesebaden, and in 1925 Bruno Walter

260

BRUNO WALTER

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

who had previously enjoyed a rising fame in Munich
came to the head of the Berlin Charlottenburg
Opera. Here, with their incandescent and revital
ized recreations of classic German operas, and their
healthy experiments with new operatic expressions,
EHemperer and Walter hrought great prestige both
to their opera-houses and to themselves. Bruno
Walter earned further glory subsequently with his
symphonic performances with the Leipzig Gewand-
haus Orchestra, and his ebullient readings of Mozart
at the annual Salzburg festivals.

Both Bruno Walter and Otto Elemperer were
nurtured and raised upon the traditions of conduct
ing created by Hans von Billow and their strength
and weakness as conductors are to a great degree
those of the school they represent. They are true
Germans in their solid musicianship, their enormous
knowledge of the musical repertoire, and their sin
cerely artistic approach and here lies their great
power. But, like their predecessor Hans von Biilow,
both Walter and Klemperer look upon a musical
masterpiece as a plastic organism which the conduc
tor can shape at his own discretion. Liberty with
tempi, with a preponderance of rubato, exaggeration
of dynamics, reconstruction of the melodic phrase
are occasional intruders into the performances of
both Klemperer and Walter.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

It is true that there are times when the unusual
interpretative gifts of these conductors bring new
qualities to a musical work which, momentarily,
makes the listener grateful that the score has under
gone reconstruction. But more often overempha
sis or understatement puts a musical work "sadly out
of joint/' On the one hand, for example, Klem-
perer's heavy hand will bring to the music he con
ducts a harsh brusqueness which will exaggerate
the importance of the double-basses, brasses and
tympani in the orchestra, and touch a work with the
fat fingers of vulgarity; on the other hand, Bruno
Walter's sensitivity will attempt to bring such an
exquisite delicacy to certain works that it is impos
sible to hear his pianissimo passages, and frequently
the sonorities lack a spine. On the one hand, Klem-
perer will attempt to bring pace and movement to a
work by disregarding a fermata, or increasing his
beat enormously; on the other hand, Walter will try
to underline a particularly moving passage for
strings by slackening the tempo to a snail-like gait.

Such defect in the art of Walter and Klemperer
should not be disregarded in any evaluation of their
work. However, after these faults are acknowl
edged and recognized, they become negligible in the
face of the towering virtues of these two conductors :
their ability to feel the heart-beat of most works they

262

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

conduct and to retain it in the performances; their
tremendous vitality and strength; the heroic outlines
of their conception and the inextinguishable flame of
their imagination.

In the case of Bruno Walter, I have always felt
that his great powers as a conductor rested not in
symphonic literature hut in operatic music, particu
larly in the works of Mozart, Gluck and Weber.
Away from the limelight of attention which is fo
cused on symphony-conductors, and secluded in the
more obscure depths of the opera-pit, Walter loses
that flair for personal exhibitionism and that pro
clivity for self -exploitation in his interpretations that
blemish his symphonic readings so frequently. His
performances of Mozart's Abduction from the Sera
glio and Don Giovanni,, and Gluck's Iphigenia in
Aulls are neat cases in point. Not merely refinement
but restraint characterizes his performances of these
works. His orchestra assumes the fragile quality of
a chamber music ensemble without collapsing tinder
the strain. The melodic line is permitted strength
of character. And in his exquisite accompaniments
to the arias, Walter permits the fine inner voices of
the orchestration to assert themselves. When Bruno
Walter conducts the operatic music of Gluck, Mo
zart, Donizetti and Weber, he belongs to a race of

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

great interpreters a distinction which is only in
frequently his when he directs symphonic-music.

Like Otto Klemperer, Erich Kleiber is essentially
at his greatest when he conducts the works of modern
composers. In 1923, Kleiber was appointed general
music director of the Berlin State Opera, one of the
most significant musical posts in Europe. Here,
while Kleiber always brought a fresh viewpoint to
whatever opera he undertook to perform, he proved
sensational in the music of the modernists. A driv
ing rhythmic force, an ability to paint a coat of many
striking colors with orchestral sonority, and a
healthy vigor made him uniquely suited for the ex
pression of younger rebellious voices. Introducing
to the world Alban Berg's Wozzeck,, Krenek's Leben
des Orestes^ Weinberger's ScJiwanda,, his sympa
thetic understanding of the score, the lambency of
his readings, and the intoxicating enthusiasm of his
baton were important factors in bringing these works
an immediate recognition. He can be authoritative
and revealing in the classics as well and his true
interpretative gifts in the music of Brahms, Schubert
and Mendelssohn, etc., have never been so fully ap
preciated in America as they deserved.

There will be very little controversy, I am sure,
when I assign the preeminent place among modern
German conductors to Wilhelm Furtwangler, one

264

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of the most uniquely gifted interpreters of our time.
An exquisite balance between subjectivity and ob
jectivity is achieved by Furtwangler in all of his per
formances, in which though the composers desires
are adhered to the striking personality of the con
ductor is strongly assertive. This personality is es
sentially a poetical one; in shaping a melody, in
building a climax, in purifying sonorities and giving
color and depth to a musical message, Furtwangler's
expression is poignantly lyrical, flushed with emotion
and tenderness.

Those who attended his New York debut with the
Philharmonic on January 3, 1925 will probably
never forget the impression he made. A program
that included Richard Strauss' Don Juan,, the Con
certo for Violoncello and Orchestra by Haydn (with
Pablo Casals as soloist) and the Brahms First Sym
phony possessed sufficient elasticity to reveal the
tremendous scope of this conductor's genius. When
he first stepped on the platform he seemed hardly to
possess those qualities necessary for a conductor to
create a profound impression in New York. Physi
cally, he was most unimpressive; a malicious Ger
man critic had compared Furtwangler's appearance
to that of a stalk of asparagus ! His gestures were
awkward, and the stiffly angular motions of his body
were not pleasant to watch. Furtwaiigler's rousing

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

triumph, therefore, was entirely a musical one. The
electric current that shot through Strauss* poem,
igniting the coruscant tone-colors with added glow,
the angelic simplicity of the Haydn in which the
orchestra suddenly became as fragile as precious
chinaware, and the magnificently grandiose majesty
and sublimity of the Brahms symphony an inter
pretation built upon gargantuan outlines will prob
ably never be forgotten. Here was a bewildering
versatility that could touch many styles with equal
magic! Here, a conductor who could remain true to
the printed page and yet cull from the music such
hidden voices and colors that it seemed to be entirely
reborn.

Technically, there are few batonists who can
match Furtwangler's scope and grasp. His knowl
edge of the orchestra is consummate. He knows
each instrument intimately and, when a technical
problem arises in performance, he frequently is able
to teach his players how to perform their part. The
entire orchestra is supple clay in his hands ; he has a
marvelous capacity for shaping it at will with the
slightest movements of his fingers. I recall several
rehearsals of Tschaikovsky's Fifth Symphony and
Dvorak's From the New World Symphony when
Furtwangler, through the most economical means
the slight change of accentuation, a deft change of

266

Trude Fleischmann

WILHELM FURTWANGLER

DISTINGUISHED GUESTS

color, a new method of phrasing almost miracu
lously converted an ordinary performance into one
of exquisite poetry. Finally, his knowledge of the
musical repertoire is prodigious, to be matched only
hy Toscanini's; he rarely refers to a printed page in
performance because every mark is familiar to him.

Like most supremely great conductors, Furt
wangler not only received his maturity in the opera-
house but is equally potent both in symphonic and
operatic music. He can be as penetratingly pro
found and as genuinely poetical conducting a Wag-
nerian music-drama as in a Beethoven or Brahms
symphony as this writer who heard Furtwangler
perform Tristan und Isolde in Bayreuth and Die
WaZkure in Paris, can testify.

He was born in Berlin in 1886, and in 1915 suc
ceeded Artur Bodanzky as the opera-director in
Mannheim. From that time on his star rose steadily.
As the conductor of the Wiener Torikiinstler Or
chestra., in 1919, and as the successor of Richard
Strauss as director of symphony concerts of the Ber
lin State Opera (1920-1922) he rose to such peaks
of artistic greatness that, when Nikisch died in 1922,
Furtwangler was esteemed the only conductor
worthy of assuming Nikisch's all-important sym
phonic-posts with the Gewandhaus Orchestra in
Leipzig and the Berlin Philharmonic. To walk in

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Nikisch's footsteps was not an enviable assignment
for a young conductor. But Furtwangler was su
premely confident in his strength, and achieved this
feat with such dignity that his right to succeed NI-
kisch as the first conductor of Germany could no
longer be questioned even by the most recalcitrant
critic. Furtwangler remained the first conductor of
Germany except for a brief period, beginning with
December 1934, when he was temporarily banished
by the Hitler government to that musical Siberia to
which the Nazis have relegated all great musicians
who failed to conform to Aryan standards.

The position of Furtwangler in the Nazi govern
ment deserves some clarification. It is no secret that,
although Furtwangler has been a very close friend
to Hitler and in sympathy with his political program,
he has from the very first squirmed under the rigid
yoke that the government placed upon German
music. From the very beginning he was viciously
opposed to the wholesale dismissal of great Jewish
musicians (particularly Klemperer from Wiese-
baden, and Bruno Walter from Leipzig and Berlin) ,
and the stigma placed upon all original expression
among the younger composers ; and he fought sav
agely to prevent German music from descending to
pedestrian standards. For more than a year, there
fore, Furtwangler was the one obstacle which the

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Nazi government had to hurdle in its wholesale purg
ing of German music. At the end of 1934, the
officials decided to give their rebel son a severe chas
tizing. The rupture was created because of Hinde-
roith's Mafhis der MdLer which Furtwangler insisted
upon performing, notwithstanding the fact that
Goering's office had decreed that this music did not
conform to Aryan principles; but I am quite cer
tain that if the pretext had not been Hindemith's
music, another excuse for a rupture would have been
found.

For six months, Furtwangler suffered musical
banishment as punishment for his disobedience to the
high political authorities. The breach, however, was
easily enough cemented. Furtwangler his pass
port abrogated was faced with the dire probability
of never conducting a concert or opera as long as the
Nazi government was in power; he was, therefore,
not reluctant, after six months, to bend his knee
slightly to his superiors. And the Nazi officials,
realizing that their country was lacking in competent
conductors, knew the importance of restoring to
German music-lovers their musical idoL

269

V
THE DAWN OF THE GODS

FOR so many years now familiar names and
faces have dominated the symphony-halls of
America, that music-audiences have begun to nurse
a rapidly growing fear that when these great names
withdraw from our music scene our splendid era of
symphony performances will pass to oblivion. It is
quite true, the music-lover argues, that as the art of
conducting developed since the day of Hans von
Billow, and as its horizon extended to envelop new
worlds, there have always been new and greater per
sonalities to bring the art to new and richer destina
tions. But the past seems to offer but scant solace
to the music lover as he contemplates the future. To
him it appears that we are today witnessing the dusk
of the conductorial gods. After Toscanini, Stokow-
ski, Eoussevitzky, Bruno Walter, Klemperer and
Furtwangler withdraw from the musical scene, who
is worthy of inheriting their batons?

However, those who keep alert watch of the mu
sical skies, can but voice optimistic prophecy. Dur
ing the past three or four years, new personalities

270

Trout-Ware

WERNER JANSSEN

THE DAWN OF THE GODS

have arisen in the conductorial world and, having
overcome the tremendous obstacle of procuring a
hearing, disclose amazing competence and strength.
For the younger men of the baton, to whom will pass
the task of carrying on the superb work of our or
chestra, and who are already on the musical scene,
are rich not only in promise but in achievement as
well.

Paradoxically enough, the most publicized of these
younger conductors is the one who, in my opinion, is
the least impressive. Werner Janssen, who made his
official bow as a symphonic-conductor in America
with several weeks of performances with the New
York Philharmonic Symphony Society has, I am
afraid, been greatly overestimated. Trailing be
hind him a bewildering career which began in Tin-
Pan Alley and which, several years ago, brought
Hm the first conductorial assignment at the Roxy
Theatre in New York, Janssen came to the Phil
harmonic laden with European honors. Conducting
concerts from as far south as Rome to as far north
as Helsingfors and Riga, between 1931 and 1933,
Janssen was often ecstatically acclaimed by some
European critics as a new genius of the baton; and
it is only too well-known how, conducting a Sibelius
concert in Finland, Janssen brought upon himself
the profuse appreciation and praise of the composer.

271

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

His American concerts were, therefore, in the nature
of a Confirmation of his European successes, and an
answer to those critics who felt that America did not
possess an important native conductor.

However, with the best intentions in the world, it
cannot be said that Janssen justified his European
reputation. Despite the fact that the first impres
sion he made upon us was favorable enough (not
merely did he come with programs that withdrew us
refreshingly from old paths and thrice-familiar
scenery, but he conducted this unfamiliar music with
out once referring to the score either at the rehearsal
or at the performance), his conducting, as we be
came better acquainted with it, mercilessly disclosed
yawning gaps. His beat was not decisive, and there
were many moments when Janssen completely lost
control of his men. At the rehearsal he showed no
clear direction, no definite viewpoint, and too fre
quently, he permitted the orchestra to shape his in
terpretation. At the concert, he devoted much more
effort to recalling the notes to mind than to the de
tails of good performance and there were many
pages when Janssen, far from concerning himself
with etching in fine shadows of interpretation, merely
waved the stick in stereotyped patterns.

Whether Werner Janssen will ultimately develop
into a great conductor is a question which Time can

272

THE DAWN OF THE GODS

answer more effectively than any music-critic. Cer
tainly, he is not a great conductor today. His crying
need at the moment is a long and rigorous appren
ticeship, with some less prominent orchestra than the
New York Philharmonic, where he can remedy the
many flaws in his conducting and permit his musi
cianship to flower with experience and study.

Other young conductors, however, have proved to
be much more convincing in their talent than Jan-
ssen, and it is they, in my estimation, who promise so
much for the future. Jose Iturhi, for example, has
revealed a most amazing adaptability for the baton
in his short career as conductor. His interpretative
talents have proved as great with the orchestra as
with the piano ^and that exquisite touch, that broad
imagination, that classic line and rich variety of color
and nuance which were so extraordinary in his piano
performances likewise distinguish his symphonic
readings. Baton technique seems to have come in
stinctively to him; he issues commands, and etches
nuances and subtleties with his stick during the per
formance with the ease of a long-experienced con
ductor. An enormous memory makes it possible for
Iturbi to bring to the surface the minutest require
ments of a score whether it is a classic symphony of
Mozart or a new symphonic piece by such a modern-

273

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

ist as Carlos Chavez. And he can handle an orches
tra consummately, surely and effectively.

Perhaps the most encouraging feature of Iturbi's
conducting is his fine sense for self-criticism. Each
time he performs a symphony anew, he will remedy
the minor defects of a previous performance and in
stil new touches. He is never satisfied with himself,
and during his conducting his penetrating ear will
detect qualities that must he improved upon in fu
ture performances.

Although the opportunities that Iturbi has had to
reveal the full scope of his talents have been few he
has given performances at the Lewisohn Stadium,
New York, and several guest-concerts with the
Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra he has left a
very strong impression that he is a growing, bulging
personality with the baton and that, given a perma
nent orchestra of his own, it cannot be long before he
assumes a significant position among the conductors
of America.

Eugene Ormandy is no less impressive. Graduat
ing from motion-pictures to radio, and from radio to
the symphony-hall, Ormandy notwithstanding his
questionable background and experience gave per
formances of such intelligent and compelling quality
in his first appearances in Philadelphia (in 1931)
that even the most skeptical in the audience was com-

274

Hillary G. Bailey

JOSE ITURBI

THE DAWN OF THE GODS

pelled to confess that here was a "find." The follow
ing year, Ormandy was appointed the principal
conductor of the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra.
Here he has courageously undertaken a vast reper
toire that includes not merely the classics but the
bulk of the most representative modern music from
Mahler to Schonberg and Kodaly, and has been so
consistent in presenting this music with forceful com
petence and rare understanding that he has earned
for himself, in a few years, a very enviable reputa
tion.

But the strongest indication of Ormandy's talents
as a leader of symphony-orchestras lies in the
remarkable change he has brought to the Minne
apolis Symphony Orchestra. From the badly
balanced orchestra capable of inert and sloppy per
formances that was its fate under Henri Verbrug-
ghen, the orchestra solidified its sonority, expanded
its technical resources and enriched its tone so that,
in two short years, it seems to be an entirely different
organization. When a young conductor can ac
complish this, it is not exaggerated enthusiasm to
consider him a born conductor.

Hans Lange, the gifted assistant conductor of the
.New York Philharmonic Symphony Society, has
been placed in the awkward position of giving per
formances directly in the footsteps of Toscanini,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Bruno Walter and Klemperer. That he has been
able to do this with a certain measure of grace speaks
well for his talents. An instinctively fine program-
maker, Hans Lange is likewise a very scrupulous
musician with a discerning ear, a pointed intellect
and a praiseworthy artistic conscience. He avoids
the shallow and the sentimental. His performances
may not, as yet, have assumed grandiose outlines but
they are quietly dignified, the result of careful prepa
ration, a fresh approach and a fine musical back
ground. It is more than probable that we have yet
to hear his best performances.

Two young conductors have emerged after ap
prenticeship with Leopold Stokowski on the Phila
delphia Orchestra. Artur Rodzinski after his
initial performances as Stokowski's assistant in
Philadelphia, and as conductor of the Los Angeles
Symphony Orchestra went to Cleveland where he
has been a rejuvenating influence. Instituting a
very alive repertoire which included the world-
premiere of that amazing Soviet opera of Shosta-
kowitch, Lady Macbeth of Mzenzk Rodzinski
proved that an electric baton was in his hand.

Sylvan Levin handles the orchestra well, and is
able to make it express his desires with a pliancy
surprising for one so inexperienced. From his radio
appearances, it was apparent that he exerted author-

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THE PAWN OF THE GODS

ity in his performances even though one was also
conscious of the great, perhaps damaging, influence
of Stokowski in the younger man's occasional over-
brilliant and overdressed readings. However, now
that Levin is the conductor of his own orchestra the
York (Pennsylvania) Symphony his individuality
should become more apparent with each year.

To a lesser degree, the work of Leon Barzin, con
ductor of the young but maturely competent Na
tional Orchestral Association, bears watching. The
discrimination in his better performances suggests
strongly that, with further experience and maturity,
he may assume importance.

Women conductors are entering the field more
boldly than ever before. Time was when an Ethel
Leginska was a curiosity who drew audiences into
the symphony-hall, for precisely the same reason that
the circus-freak attracts crowds into the side-show
tent. Today, however, women conductors are no
longer curios, but possess musical attainments to a
great degree ; and it is no longer an impossibility for
a great woman conductor to arise in the future and
become the leader of one of our major orchestras.
Certainly, Marguerite Dessoff of the Dessoff Sing
ers has proved to be a choral conductor of enor
mous gift and background ; and such recent additions
to the conductorial ranks as Antonia Brico, Gertrud

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Hrdliczka, and, in Vienna, Carmen Studer-Wein-
gartner, have shown that they can adapt themselves
to the baton with flexibility.

In any case, as far as the future of conducting is
concerned, there is no excuse for pessimism. The
field is not barren, but fertile; we have only to culti
vate it for it to yield fruit. Such rising interpreters
of the baton as Iturbi, Ormandy, Rodzinski, Lange
and many others who have not as yet found their
opportunity to disclose their latent gifts make the
future of our symphony-orchestras appear far from
bleak.

The passing of Toscanini or Stokowski or Kous-
sevitzky need not fill us with despair. For, in all
probability we are not witnessing the dusk, but
rather the dawn of the gods.

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VI
BATON EXHIBITIONISM

1.

WE SHOULD not conclude our discussion of
conducting and conductors without com
menting upon some of the abuses that are sometimes
exercised. It has been said with disconcerting jus
tification, I am afraid that there exists no group of
musicians more addicted to vain exhibitionism and
self-glorification at the expense of an art they are
supposed to exalt than the conductors of symphony-
orchestras. While there have always existed a few
conductors who look upon their work as a high artis
tic mission in which the performance of music to the
best of their abilities is the only possible considera
tion (need I mention the names of Toscanini,
Mahler, Muck or Weingartner as examples?), the
lamentable truth remains that, excluding a select and
negligible handful, the orchestra conductor, of all
musicians, is the most likely to exploit music in every
possible manner in his attempt to glorify himself as
an individual. He has become more and more the
show-man and less the artist.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

As early as 1912, the astute Henry E. Krehbiel
lamented the-then slowly growing tendency on the
part of the conductor to accord himself a greater
importance than the music he performed. "In the
highest form of the instrumental art, (except cham
ber music where, thank God! there is still a bit of
holy ground!) as in the hybrid form of the opera
which lives chiefly on affectation and fad, it is the
singer and not the song that challenges the attention
from the multitude. We used to have prima donna
in New York whose names on a program insured
financial success for the performance. . . . For
prima donna. . . . read 'the conductor, 'and a paral
lel is established in orchestral art which is even more
humiliating than that pervading our opera-houses."

Today, of course, it can be said unequivocally that
many conductors (once again permitting excep
tions) place greater emphasis upon the externals of
their art than upon artistic essentials. No longer is
the conductor of Jullien's type a phenomenal rarity.
With the majority of orchestral conductors today
circus showmanship dominates orchestral conduct
ing.

Conductors often resort to the most ludicrous, and
pathetic, means with which to attract notice. Rumor
has it that one of the foremost conductors in America
today uses rouge and lip-stick before each perf orm-

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ance. This is, no doubt, an exaggeration; but it is
well known that one of the popular conductors wears
a corset at every appearance so that he may present
an elegant figure as he conducts, that another con
ductor changes his suit of clothing during the inter
mission, and that many other conductors rehearse
their gestures before a mirror to insure their
aesthetic impressiveness at the concert. As a very
convincing example of flagrant exhibitionism in the
modern conductor, I might point to Leopold Sto-
kowski (my authority is the magazine, Time) who,
before conducting the opera Wozzeck at the Metro
politan Opera House, conferred with the electricians
to learn if it was possible to direct the electric light
upon his hands in such a way that they would be
reflected upon the ceiling during the performance !

These, of course, are merely picayune examples,
and should not be taken too seriously of the super
fluous methods adopted by some conductors to gain
the admiration of their audiences. There are other,
and far more important, examples; and it is these
examples that reveal with discouraging force that
competent performances of music is one of the least
important features of the conductorial prima-dowia
act.

If a violinist or a pianist stepped upon the plat
form and attempted to gain the enthusiasm of his

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

audience through the blatant and spectacular meth
ods generally employed by the orchestra-conductor
during his routine, he would be dismissed with
derision and contempt. The music-audiences, how
ever, are strangely tolerant where the conductor is
concerned, and readily succumb to the pompous self-
advertisement, side show gymnastics and Barnum
showmanship which he employs to impress them.

2.

Probably the most important weapon that the
conductor possesses in attracting the admiration of
the public is his stick. Gesturing has, for the most
part, ceased to be merely the useful function of out
lining rhythm and tempo for the benefit of the
orchestra-men, and etching in nuance, but has,
instead, become with many of our modern conductors
something of a performance in itself, to be carefully
studied beforehand for its possible effect upon the
audience. A few months ago, I stumbled across a
news item which prettily illustrates my point. "Paul
Paray, talented and temperamental orchestra direc
tor of the Colonne concerts in Paris" so runs a
United Press dispatch "switches batons in mid-
symphonic stream. In a recent rendition of Cesar
Franck's Variations Symphoniques, Monsieur Paray
changed sticks with such lightning rapidity as to

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leave ids audiences marveling at the apparent sleight-
of-hand movements. 39 The audiences, we are told
further, throng the concert-hall in order to see this
"talented" Monsieur Paray go through his necro
mantic monkeyshines.

While most conductors do not go to quite such
extremes to entertain their puhlic with their batons,
they employ equally superfluous dramatics. It was
Adrian Boult who admirably commented that a
conductor, in his direction, should appeal to the eyes
of his orchestra and to the ears of his audience. Too
many conductors are infinitely more interested in
appealing merely to the eyes of their audience.
They resort to absurd corybantic gesturing which
may fascinate the audience but which succeeds, more
often than not, simply in confusing the orchestra.
As I have already explained in an earlier chapter,
the baton in the hands of an expert conductor is an
all-important weapon. But I have also pointed out
that the greatest conductors proved long ago that a
slight and incisive motion of the wrist can serve the
purpose admirably. When Artur Nikisch gave
courses in the art of conducting, he would tie the left
hand of the student behind the back and would insist
that the right hand utilize only the most sparing
motions. And the greatest conductors of yesterday
and today have utilized the most economical gestur-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

ing. Artur Nikisch himself used a slight upward
and downward heat which was almost imperceptible
heyond the fifth row of the parquet. Toscanini uses
a circular movement of the arm which is humdrum
in its rigidity. Karl Muck and Felix Weingartner
use a broad movement of the baton which, to the
unschooled eye, might almost seem to lack any
definite rhythmic pattern. Without exception, these
great conductors never resorted to any motion of the
head and body to impress their men ; only the slight
est suggestions were necessary for them to draw the
necessary effects and nuances from the orchestra.
Conductors of lesser stature, however, lead audiences
and themselves to believe that their orgiastic postur
ing inspire the men to scale formerly inaccessible
heights of inspiration.

Gesturing in recent years has passed, with many
conductors, completely out of the realm of simplicity
and has become a circus-show put on entirely for the
benefit of the audiences. As Basil Maine has writ
ten: "By the majority of concert-goers the conductor
is admired as much for chorography as for his
musicianship." Sir Thomas Beecham hurls his fist
at the orchestra with passionate abandon, and curves
and rotates his body during the progress of a musical
work until it resembles a demoniac dance. As a mat
ter of fact we find an English critic Mr. Edward

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BATON EXHIBITIONISM

Crankshaw in the Bookman yielding to ecstasy
over Sir Thomas's antics by describing him as a
"dancer," and adding that "to me he looks like Pe-
trushka." Wilhelm Furtwangler sways his lithe
body backward, in a tender passage, and lifts his face
to the sky as though in supplication to the Muses.
Sir Henry J. Wood utilizes such extravagant mo
tions of the hands that critics have referred to him as
"the windmill conductor." Such gestures, entirely
superfluous to the performance, are examples of
what usually takes place upon the conductor's
podium during the concert. These conductors would
have us believe that these movements are necessary
to inspire and intoxicate the men ; but elaborateness
of gesture is not necessarily an effective gesture.
Any orchestra-man will tell you that these extrava
gant movements are surprisingly absent when, at the
rehearsal, there is no admiring audience to lavish
adulation behind the conductor's back.

3.

Another equally important trick in the repertoire
of the irregular orchestral conductor is the rather
recent universal fad of conducting entire programs
without the aid of a printed score a fad which can
not be deplored too strongly. Conducting without a
score is by no means a present-day phenomenon, as

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

we have already frequently observed. Mahler, Ni-
kisch, Richter, von Billow all conducted familiar
works without resorting to the printed page, long
before it became a style. But that this was not an
everyday event is proved by the fact that always, in
the past, it caused exclamations of wonder. When
Hans von Billow heard Richard Strauss direct, what
first attracted him to the younger musician was the
fact that he conducted his own work from memory;
and when Artur Nikisch conducted the Faust and
Dante overtures of Liszt in Leipzig without a score
in front of him, the evening was something of a sen
sation. Today, however, a conductor feels disgraced
before the eyes of his public if he does not perform at
least the classics from memory. And at least one
important manager has refused to engage any guest-
conductors for his orchestra who cannot accomplish
this feat little realizing that conducting without a
score is primarily a trick, and in most instances not
even a very good one.

With some conductors Toscanini, for example,
or Furtwangler whose phenomenal memories make
the support of a printed score quite unnecessary, or
in the case of conductors who have directed a work
so often that it is indelibly engraved upon their
minds, conducting scoreless is a spontaneous and
entirely unaffected gesture. In such instances, it is

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quite wise for the conductor to dispense with the
music, for then he can concentrate entirely upon his
men. But when this practice becomes a fetish, to be
used indiscriminately for works old and new, familiar
and unfamiliar, it becomes exceedingly dangerous.
As Felix Weingartner has pointed out, "a good per
formance from the score has value ; a bad one from
memory has none." The truth is that most of the
conductors who today appear week-in and week-out
on platforms without the customary music-stand in
front of them are only vaguely familiar with all the
markings of the score. For them to attempt to direct
their men without the support of the music is a very
stupid and futile gesture. Inaccurate performances,
innumerable omissions of subtle nuances and effects
designated on the printed page but which elude the
memory of the conductor are the inevitable results of
this form of conduct orial exhibitionism. Something
of the casual way with which conductors regard the
printed page can be suggested by quoting a remark
overheard at a rehearsal of a very celebrated guest-
conductor to the New York Philharmonic, who
insisted upon rehearsing the music from memory.
"Oboes clarinets bassoons," he called out impa
tiently. "Which one of you has the main theme
here?"

Sloppiness and inaccuracies have become more

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

and more frequent intruders into orchestral per-
f ormances since this fad has gained wide recognition
among conductors in America. I remember hearing
Bruno Walter conduct a passage from Richard
Strauss' Schlagobers in four-quarter time when the
score clearly designated five-quarter, confusing the
players to such an extent that the entire section of
the work was completely distorted in performance;
and this accident would have been impossible if Wal
ter were referring to a score during the performance.
I also recall a performance of Stravinsky's Sacre
du Printemps by Koussevitzky in which the conduc
tor suffered a lapse of memory with the result that
he was compelled to push his baton feebly for several
minutes, during which time the balance of the orches
tra collapsed into confusion, until he could bring
back to mind the exact notation of the score. Such
obvious ineptitude of conducting is, to be sure, not
an everyday affair with conductors of the stature of
Bruno Walter and Serge Koussevitzky. But what
has become habitual among conductors who rely
entirely upon their memories is the persistent dis
regard of subtle indications in the music for slight,
but all-important, accentuations, syncopations,
rubatos etc. Too often the artistic touches which the
composer so deftly sprinkles over his scores are

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omitted by the conductor, exerting his memory to
recall all of the notes.

The severest sufferer of this fad if we exclude the
audiences and the composition is the young con
ductor who directs from memory because he feels
that he must keep abreast of the times. In the proc
ess of recreating a work of art, there are so many
details upon which a young conductor must focus his
attention that it is regrettable for him to divert so
much of his time, energy and effort to a task so exact
ing as committing complicated orchestral scores to
memory. The mere mechanics of memorizing con
cert-length programs will prove to be so enormous
that, in spite of himself, the young conductor will be
apt to neglect the much more important job of
studying scores for their artistic content. Besides, it
stands to reason that at the concert proper the more
attention the young conductor devotes to recalling to
mind the notes of the work he is directing, the less
concentration can he expend upon the fine points of
interpretation and recreation as the music pours
from under his baton.

4.

To my mind, the most pernicious practice em
ployed by some conductors in further self-glorifica
tion is the ever-increasing vogue for giving individual

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

readings of classic works, upon which are smudged
and smeared the fingerprints of the conductors
through whose hands this music passes. There is
only sensationalism and exaggeration in the per
formances of many of these conductors. Even
artists of such unquestionable integrity as Artur
Nikisch and Gustav Mahler frequently yielded to the
temptation of changing the music they performed,
and permitted their temperaments to twist the musi
cal ideas of the masters into new shapes. Both
Nikisch and Mahler, however, were artists of enor
mous stature so that there were many times when
they actually succeeded in improving upon a master-
work. But when lesser conductors permit themselves
the same freedom, the result is often artistically
disastrous.

Some of the more obvious pitfalls into which such
conductors fall, when they attempt to "recreate" a
work of art, are exaggeration and overstatement, or
understatement. Crescendo passages are magnified
so that they resemble the blurred swell of an organ
tone, in which clarity, clean playing and solid
Sonority are all sacrificed for the general kinaesthetic
effect which massive sounds can produce. Rapid
passages are greatly accelerated to a breath-taking
pace, especially in climaxes, in the attempt of the
conductor to sweep an audience off its feet by the

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BATON EXHIBITIONISM

sheer power of motion. Or, on the other hand,
pianissimo is played so that it is impossible to hear it
beyond the third row of the parquet, and cantabile
passages are fondled until they become cloying.

There are few conductors, with the exception of
four or five artists of first importance, who do not
yield to these, and many other similar, temptations.
We have already commented upon the fact that
conductors like Otto Klemperer and, to a lesser
degree, Erich Kleiber, place unusual emphasis on the
brass, tympani and double-bass so that the music may
sound more crushingly effective; these conductors
mistake vulgarity and roughness of performance for
red-blooded vigor. Bruno Walter persistently
inserts luftpausen into the composition, to heighten
its climactic moments. Leopold Stokowski will fre
quently permit false dramatics to creep into the
music he conducts, and Sir Thomas Beecham will go
to ridiculous extremes, at occasions, to accentuate the
contrasts of light and shade.

Some conductors, however, go to even more radical
extremes. Willem Mengelberg deleted an entire sec
tion of Tschaikovsky's Fifth Symphony in an
attempt to improve the work; and Bruno Walter
changed the tempo of the opening of the last move
ment of Tschaikovsky's Fourth Symphony until it
resembled a burlesque of itself. Stokowski has given

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

an altogether different tempo to the last movements
of Schubert's C -Major Symphony than the one
designated in the score, adopting a lighter and slower
beat than was intended by the composer and thereby
completely changing the conception of the work; on
the other hand, he has exaggerated climaxes of
Beethoven's Pastorale Symphony and the Leonore
Overture no. 3 until they yielded to hysterics. I have
heard Otto Klemperer perform Beethoven sym
phonies in which he sublimely disregarded suspen
sions and rests, and in which he allotted greater
importance to the accompanying sections than to the
main themes.

Audiences may come to the symphony-concert for
hero-worship ; and they may derive pleasure from the
circus spectacles which conductors offer with their
music. But when such liberties are taken by conduc
tors with musical masterpieces, when conductors so
brazenly exploit art for the sake of self-advertise
ment, it is time that their admirers recognized the red
light of danger flashing across our musical horizon.

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

A SHORT BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE TO CON
DUCTORS OF YESTERDAY AND TODAY

ABENDROTH, HERMANN, born, Frankfort, January
19, 1883. He received his early apprenticeship as
conductor directing the Orchester-Verein in Munich
(1903), and a series of orchestral concerts in Liibeck
(1905). In 1914, he succeeded Fritz Steinbach as
leader of the Gurzenich concerts at Cologne, and it
was here that he received his European reputation as
a prominent interpreter of symphonic music. In
1922, he directed a successful music festival in Nied-
derhein. Since that time he has conducted symphony
concerts in Berlin, and has assumed the position of
director of the Eonzert-Gesellschaft and the Musik-
alischen Gesellschaft in Cologne.

AXBRECHT, KARI,, born, Posen, 1807; died, Gatchina,
1863. After acquiring a reputation as a violinist,
Albrecht came to Russia where he became conductor
of the St. Petersburg Opera (1838). In 1842, he led
the first performance of Glinka's Russian wnd Litd-
milla. In 1845, he was appointed conductor of the
Philharmonic concerts in St. Petersburg.

ANSERMET, ERNEST, born, Vevey, Switzerland, Novem
ber 11, 1883, one of the most significant of con
temporary Swiss conductors. In 1912 he was

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

appointed conductor at the Montreux Kursaal, and
from 1915 until 1918 he officiated as the successor of
Stavenhagen in a series of subscription concerts. He
first came to prominence as a conductor of the Diaghi-
lev Russian Ballet, touring England, Italy, Spain,
North and South America. His name is intimately
associated with that of Igor Stravinsky for whose
works his baton has been a faithful protagonist.
He has been a guest-conductor of leading symphony-
organizations, particularly in London and Liverpool.

ARBOS, ENRIQ.TJE FERNANDEZ, born, Madrid, December
25, 1863, considered by many the foremost of con
temporary Spanish conductors. After serving as
concertmaster of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra
(1883) and of the Glasgow Symphony Orchestra
(1889) he returned to his native country to become
conductor of the Madrid Symphony Orchestra
(1904), which position he has held with unique honor.
He has been a welcome guest-conductor of the leading
orchestras in Europe, and during the past two decades
has visited America several times as a guest of the
New York Symphony Orchestra and the Boston Sym
phony Orchestra. (See page 254).

BAMBOSCHECK, GIUSEPPE, born, Trieste, 1890. He
began his career by conducting symphony concerts
in his seventeenth year. His official debut as an
operatic conductor was made at the Teatro Fenico in
Trieste in 1908. Since that time he has associated
himself almost exclusively with operatic music. From
1916 until 1929 he was the musical secretary and a
conductor of the Metropolitan Opera House, New

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

York. After 1929 he devoted himself to radio work
and movietone productions.

BARLOW, HOWARD, born, Plain City, Ohio, May 1, 1892.
He made his official debut as conductor at the Mac-
dowell Colony Festival of the National Federation
Music Clubs, in July of 1919. He has associated
himself most intimately with radio work, conducting
the frequent symphony broadcasts of the Columbia
Broadcasting System with great popularity. During
the past two years he served intermittenly as a guest-
conductor of several important American orchestras.

BARR&RE, GEORGES, born, Bordeaux, October 31, 1876,
esteemed one of the foremost of Contemporary flautists.
For seven years he distinguished himself as solo flautist
of the Colonne concerts in Paris, and subsequently as
first flautist of the New York Symphony Society and
the New York Philharmonic. In 1914 he founded the
Barrere Little Symphony Orchestra which under his
intelligent direction has since been giving concerts of
unfamiliar old and new music for small orchestras.

BARZIN, LEON, born, Brussels, 1900. For a long period,
he was a violist of leading orchestras, including the
National Symphony Orchestra and the New York
Philharmonic. In 1929, he accepted the associate
conductorship of the American Orchestral Association
of New York, and in 1930 he was appointed per
manent conductor of the National Orchestral Associa
tion. (See page 277).

BEECHAM, SIR THOMAS, born, Liverpool, April 29,
1879, one of the major batonists of present-day Eng
land. After founding the New Symphony Orchestra

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

in London, which he conducted for two years (1906
1908) 9 he came to prominence by forming the Beecham
Symphony Orchestra. For a few years he directed
opera at Covent Garden and Drury Lane. From
1916-1919 he was principal conductor of the Royal
Philharmonic in London, and since 1919 he has been
artistic director of the London Symphony Orchestra
and Covent Garden. He has been one of the major
forces to bring the music of Delius to recognition in
England, organizing a special Delius Festival in Oc
tober of 1929. He has been equally vigorous in his
attempt to establish opera as a popular entertainment
for the English masses. His frequent guest-appear
ances with the foremost orchestras of America and
Europe have established his reputation throughout
the entire world of music. (See pages 257-8).

BENEDICT, SIB JULIUS, born, Stuttgart, November 27,
1804 ; died, London, June 5, 1885. His early musical
studies were pursued in Weimar, principally under
Hummel. On his nineteenth birthday, upon the per
sonal recommendation of Karl Maria von Weber,
he was appointed conductor of the Karnthnerthor
Theatre in Vienna, holding the position for two years.
From Vienna, he went to Naples to hold the post of
principal conductor at the San Carlo. During tlie
last twenty years of his life, he conducted operatic
performances and symphonic concerts in England
opera, at Drury Lane, and symphony concerts with
the Liverpool Philharmonic.

BENNETT, SIB WILLIAM STERNDALE, born, Sheffield,
April 13, 1816 ; died, London, February 1, 1875. His

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

professional debut was launched in Leipzig in 1837
when he conducted his own Naiades Overture with
the Gewandhaus Orchestra. For ten years (1856-
1866) he was principal conductor of the Royal Phil
harmonic in London, when he attained an international
reputation as a conductor of symphonic music. In
1849 he founded the London Bach Society, and in
1858 he directed the Leeds Music Festival with great
distinction. In the later years of his life he devoted
his energy principally to composition and pedagogy.

BEBGMANN, CAUL, born, Ebersbach, Saxony, 1821 ; died,
New York, August 16, 1876. His first important
conductorial position came in 1850 when he was ap
pointed director of the itinerant Germania Society
Orchestra. Here he made a marked impression, and
upon its dissolution in 1854 he was engaged as one of
the conductors of the New York Philharmonic Orches
tra. From 1866 to 1876 he was the sole conductor of
the New York Philharmonic. He was also director
of the Handel and Haydn Society in Boston (1852-
1854), the Arion Society in New York, and was
responsible for the first performance of Wagner's
Tawihauser in New York (1859). (See page 52).

BERUOZ, HECTOR Louis, born, Grenoble, December 11,
1803; died, Paris, March 8, 1869, world-famous
French composer who likewise distinguished himself
with the baton. After several successful engagements
as conductor in Paris and Brussels (1842) he toured
Germany, Austria and Russia, from 1843 to 1846,
conducting concerts devoted primarily to his own
music. In 1852 and 1855 he was engaged as director

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

of the New Philharmonic in England where he proved
his unquestioned talent in the interpretation of classi
cal symphonic music. (See pages 84-85).

BLACK, PRANK, born, Philadelphia, November 28, 1894.
He made his debut with baton at the Century Theatre
in New York in 1916. During the next few years he
was employed as director of the New Fox Theatre in
Philadelphia, and as musical director of the Bruns
wick Phonograph Company. He has become closely
identified with the radio, and as the musical director
of the National Broadcasting Company he frequently
conducts programs of classical and modern symphonic
music.

BLECH, LEO, born, Aix-la-Chapelle, April 21, 1871.
In 1893 he assumed the post of director of opera in
Aix-la-Chapelle, and six years later he was appointed
Kapellmeister of the German Landestheater in
Prague. A similar post became his at the Berlin
State Opera in 1906, where his conductorial talent
particularly in the music of Mozart and Wagner
attracted so much attention and praise that he was
offered the position of General Musikdirektor in 1913.
It was in this capacity that he established himself as
one of Germany's significant operatic conductors. In
1925, he made a short visit to the United States as
conductor of the Wagnerian Opera Company.

BODANZKY, ARTTJB, born, Vienna, December 16, 1887.
His early experience as conductor was procured under
Gustav Mahler at the Imperial Opera in Vienna
(1904). After gaining a greater sureness with his
stick and a maturer outlook upon his art in the

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

principal opera-houses in Europe particularly in
Mannheim where he spent several successful years
Bodanzky came to London in 1914 to direct the first
performance of Parsifal to be given in England, at
the Covent Garden. His success with this per
formance was so great that, in 1915, Bodanzky was
engaged as principal conductor of German opera at
the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, where he
has enjoyed his greatest conductorial triumphs. For
more than ten years, Bodanzky has conducted the
Society of Friends of Music in New York, which he
founded in 1916, and in 1919 was founder and con
ductor of the short-lived New Symphony Orchestra.

Boui/r, SIB ADRIAN CEDRIC, born, Chester, April 8,
1889. After receiving a valuable training under
Artur Nikisch, he made his debut at Covent Garden
in 1914. In 1918 he first attracted notice as con
ductor of several concerts of the Royal Philharmonic
in London. Since that time he has been enormously
active with the baton, and has acquired a wide English
reputation. In 1920, he conducted concerts of the
British Symphony Orchestra, the Sunday concerts of
the London Symphony Orchestra, and several per
formances of the Diaghilev Ballet. Since 1923, he
has conducted the Birmingham Orchestra and the
London Bach Choir. He has been an important guest
to the foremost orchestras in Europe.

BRICO, ANTONIA, well-known woman conductor. Her
studies in conducting were pursued under Dr. Karl
Muck, and at the State Academy of Music in Berlin,
where she was the only American man or woman

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to have been admitted to the conducting classes. She
made her world debut as conductor in 1930, when she
directed a concert of the Berlin Philharmonic. Re
turning to America, Antonia Brico conducted a
symphony-concert at the Hollywood Bowl. Since that
time, she has led the Musicians Symphony Orchestra,
at the Metropolitan Opera House, the New York Civic
Orchestra, and has given guest performances with
the Detroit and Buffalo Symphony Orchestras. In
1934, she founded the New York Women's Symphony
Orchestra, and has since been its permanent conductor.

BtfLow, HANS vosr., (See pages 111-116).

BUSCH, FRITZ, born, Siegen, Westphalia, March 13,
1890. In 1909, he was given his first important con-
ductorial assignment at the Riga Opera where he
served as chorusmaster. For several years after that
he divided his time between conducting operatic and
symphonic music in Bad Pyrmont and Aachen. In
1918 he was appointed operatic director at Stuttgart,
and four years later he was offered the position that
has brought him an international prominence con
ductor at the Dresden Opera. He has been a guest
of principal European orchestras, and for a short
while a visitor to America as a conductor of the New
York Symphony Orchestra. (See page 257).

BUSSEB, HENRI PAUL, born, Toulouse, January 16,
1872. His early musical career was devoted to the
playing of the organ at leading Paris churches. After
a short period as chorus-director at the Opera
Comique, he was offered an important position as a

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conductor of the Opera (1902) which he has since
occupied with quiet distinction.

CAMERON, BASEL, born, Reading, August 18, 1885. He
received his first opportunity to conduct in 1912
when he was offered the post of music-director of the
orchestra at Torquay. The following Spring he
gained praise and attention by a Wagner festival
which he conducted in London. In 1923, Cameron
divided his conductorial activities between Harrogate
and Hastings, where his fame as orchestral conductor
increased rapidly particularly with his annual festi
vals which he conducted in each city. He has since
conducted the Royal Philharmonic in London, the
Czech National Orchestra in Prague, and the San
Francisco and Seattle Symphony Orchestras in
America.

CAMPANINI, CI/EOFANTE, born, Parma, September 1,
1860; died, New York, September 19, 1919. His
debut as operatic conductor was made in Parma in
1883 in a performance of Carmen, and was sufficiently
striking to bring him a post as assistant conductor at
the Metropolitan Opera House the following year,
where he gave the first American performance of
Verdi's Othello (1894) . After making extensive tours
as operatic conductor in Spain, Portugal and South
America, he returned to New York to direct at the
Manhattan Opera House (1906-1909). In 1910, he
went to Chicago to become principal conductor of
the newly formed Chicago Opera House, and from
1913 until his death he was its artistic director.

CASALS, PABLO, born, Tarragona, December 29, 1876,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

the most distinguished contemporary virtuoso on the
violoncello. In 1919, he founded and directed the
Barcelona Orchestra which has been a vital factor in
spreading the appreciation of great symphonic music
among the masses in Spain. His enormous musician
ship and conductorial talent have brought the
Barcelona Orchestra to the front rank of modern
European symphonic organizations. Casals has been
a guest conductor in New York and London.

CASELLA, ALFREDO, born, Turin, July 25, 1883, eminent
contemporary Italian composer who is equally promi
nent as conductor. In 1912, he conducted a series
of popular concerts at the Trocadero in Paris which
first brought him prominence with the baton. Since
that time his conductorial assignments have brought
him to Paris, Berlin, London, Vienna, Moscow, Italy,
the Netherlands, New York where he particularly
distinguished himself in his performance of old Italian
music and in the works of the foremost contemporaries.

CHAVEZ, CAKLOS, born, Mexico City, 1899, one of Mexi
co's most original modern composers and conductors.
After an intensive period of study in Europe, he re
turned to Mexico City where he became the conductor
of its principal symphony orchestra.

CHEVIL:LAKD, CAMII/LE, born, Paris, October 14, 1859;
died, Paris, May 30, 1923. In 1866, he became assist
ant to his father-in-law, Lamoureux, at the Lamoureux
concerts. After this valuable apprenticeship he be
came the principal conductor of the orchestra, in 1897,
upon his father-in-law's death. In 1887, he assisted

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

at the first Paris performance of Lohengrin. (See
page 50) .

COATES, ALBERT, born, Petrograd, April 23, 1882. His
early experience was procured conducting opera in
Elberfeld, Dresden and Mannheim. In 1911 he was
appointed chief conductor of the Petrograd Opera,
and three years later he turned to the performance of
symphonic music by assuming the direction of the
London Philharmonic. He came to America in 1921
to conduct several guest performances with the New
York Symphony Society, and two years later he
assumed the direction of the Symphony Orchestra in
Rochester. He has since toured extensively through
out Europe and America, performing in the principal
symphony-halls and opera-houses. (See page 253).

COILLINGWOOD, LAWRENCE, born, London, March 14,
1887. His early experience as a conductor was pro
cured in Russia, at the St. Petersburg Opera, as as
sistant to Albert Coates. In London, he has gained
prominence by virtue of his operatic performances at
the <01d Vic.'

COLONNE, EDOUABD (originally named Judas), born,
Bordeaux, July 23, 1838; died, Paris, March 28,
1910. In 1860 he assumed leadership of the Orchestra
of the Paris Conservatory, where for more than a
decade his authoritative performances gained wide
spread attention. In 1873, he founded the Concert
National which later became the nationally famous
Concerts du Chatelet. He further increased his pres
tige in Paris by performances at the Exposition
(1878) and at the Opera (1892) . He was a frequent

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

guest of orchestras throughout Europe, conducting
in England from 1896 until 1908, and giving success
ful performances in Strassburg, Lisbon and Russia.
In 1905 he introduced his baton to New York. See
pages 48-49) .

COOPER, EMU,, born, Odessa, December 20, 1879. He
began conducting in his seventeenth year, when the
orchestra of the Odessa Exhibition was entrusted to
him. He created a favorable impression so emphati
cally that he was appointed conductor of the Castel-
lano Company, a well-known Italian operatic troupe.
His career became more and more luminous as he filled
the posts of principal conductor at the City Theatre
in Kiev (1900), at the Moscow Opera House in Zin-
uria (1906) and, finally, at the Grand Imperial Opera
House in Moscow. During the Revolution, Cooper
founded the Philharmonic Orchestra of Leningrad,
and several years later he toured the world as guest
conductor of leading opera-houses and symphonic
organizations.

COPPOLA, PEERO, born, Milan, 1888. After directing
several performances at the La Scala in Milan, and
at other leading opera-houses in Italy, he came to
Brussels (1912) to direct performances at the Theatre
de la Monnaie. He came to prominence by introduc
ing Puccini's Girl of the Golden West in Florence and
Brussels. He came to London in 1914, and has since
that time served as artistic director of His Master's
Voice Co. in England.

CORTOT, ALFRED, born, Nijon, Switzerland, September
26 3 1877, world-famous concert-pianist who is like-

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

wise distinguished with the baton. His early experi
ence as a conductor came with the music-dramas of
Wagner, first by assisting at Bayreuth, and then by
conducting performances of the more famous music-
dramas at Paris from 1902 to 1904. In 1903 he
founded a concert society whose function it was to give
performances of outstanding choral works. One year
later, he directed the orchestral concerts at the Societe
Nationale. More recently, he has conducted the or
chestra of the Ecole Normale in Paris.

COSTA, MICHAEL. (See pages 82-83).

Co WEN, SIR FREDERIC HYMEN, born, Kingston, Jamaica,
January 29, 1852; died, England, 1935. In 1877
he succeeded Sir Arthur Sullivan as conductor of the
London Philharmonic, and for many years (from
1877 to 1892, and from 1900 to 1907) he enjoyed a
distinguished career as the director of this orchestra.
His conductorial career likewise included eighteen
successful years with the Liverpool Philharmonic
(1896-1914) and three years with the Halle Orchestra
at Manchester.

DAMROSCH, LEOPOLD, born, Posen, Prussia, October 22,
1832 ; died, New York, February 15, 1885. His con
ductorial career began in Germany where in 1859 he
conducted the Breslau Philharmonic concerts and, in
1862, he founded the Breslau Orchesterverein. He
came to New York in 1871 as conductor of the Arion
Society, and from that time on was closely identified
with musical life in this country. He founded the
Oratorio Society of New York in 1873, and the New
York Symphony Society five years later. In 1884,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

he was appointed director of German opera at the
Metropolitan Opera House, New York.

DAMROSCH, WALTER. (See pages 60-67).

DEFATJW, DESIRE, born, Ghent, September 5, 1885.
After a long period as a member of the Allied String
Quartet, which he founded, he turned to conducting.
He is the director of the symphony concerts given at
the Theatre de la Monnaie in Brussels, the most im
portant orchestral concerts given in that city.

DE LAMARTER, ERIC, born, Lansing, Michigan, 1880.
In 1911 he assumed the conductor ship of the Chicago
Musical Art Society. Seven years later he became
the conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra
for one season. More recently, he has attracted notice
with a series of summer concerts with the Chicago
Symphony Orchestra in Chicago.

DE SABATA, VICTOR, born, Trieste, April 10, 1892.
After several successful guest-appearances at the
Monte Carlo Opera, he was called to direct the
symphony-concerts at the La Scala in Milan. There
followed appearances as conductor of orchestral music
in principal cities in Italy. He came to America in
1927 as guest-conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony
Orchestra, and in the same year gave the world
premiere of RespigliPs Church Windows in Milan.
DESSOFF, FELIX OTTO, born, Leipzig, January 14, 1835;
died, Frankfort, October 28, 1891. After conducting
for several years in theatres of small German towns,
he was appointed conductor of the Court Opera in
Vienna and director of the Philharmonic concerts. In
1875 he received an appointment as Kapellmeister at

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

Karlsruhe. From 1881 until his death he was first
conductor of opera at Frankfort, where his perform
ances enjoyed a national prominence.

DESSOFF, MARGUERITE, born, Vienna, June 11, 1894*.
As founder and leader of the DessofPsche Frauenchor
Frankfurter Madrigal - Vereinigung and Bachge-
meinde, in Frankfort, she first attracted notice as a
choral conductor of talent. Coming to America, she
became chorus director at the Institute of Musical Art
in New York. She has given frequent concerts direct
ing the Adesdi Chorus and the A Capella Singers of
New York.

DOBROWEST, ISSAI, born, Nijni Novgorod, 1894. He
began a distinguished conductorial career in 1919
when he accepted the direction of the Grand Theatre
in Moscow. In 1922, he came to Dresden, and for
several years was prominent as a conductor of the
Russian repertoire at the Opera House. He has been
a guest-conductor of leading symphony orchestras,
including the New York Philharmonic, and in 1933
he became principal conductor of the San Francisco
Symphony Orchestra. (See page 254).

DOHNAKYI, ERNST VOK, born, Pressburg, July 22, 1877.
His musical career was launched with a series of suc
cessful European and American tours as concert-
pianist (1897-1901). Since 1924, he has been a
principal conductor of the Budapest Philharmonic.
He served for a brief period as conductor of the short
lived State Symphony Orchestra in New York.

ELMENDORFF, KARX, VON. During the past few years
he has been one of the principal conductors at the

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

annual Bayreuth Festival. He is esteemed one of
the most prominent Wagnerian conductors in Ger
many.

FIEDLER, ARTHUR, born, Boston, December 17, 1894.
In 1925, he organized the Boston Sinfonietta, the
first orchestra of its kind in the United States. His
name is primarily associated with the annual series of
Pop concerts given in Boston by the Boston Symphony
Orchestra, which he began directing in 1930. He has
also conducted the Cecilia Society, the Boston Male
choir, the Macdowell Club orchestra, and the series
of orchestral concerts on the Boston Esplanade which
he himself organized.

FIEDLER, AUGUST MAX, born, Zittau, December 31,
1859. In 1904, he conducted the Hamburg Philhar
monic with sufficient success to earn him a permanent
appointment as conductor of the Boston Symphony
Orchestra (1908-1912). He returned to Germany
to become one of its more prominent symphony-
conductors, directing the Essen Orchestra in 1916,
and serving as guest-conductor of principal German
orchestras since that time.

FITELBERG, GREGORY, born, Dinaburg, October 18,
1879. After a long and valuable apprenticeship as
an orchestra-player, he was called upon to direct the
Warsaw Philharmonic, which he did with such com-
petehce that he was retained as principal conductor
from 1907 to 1911. In 1912 he accepted a post as
conductor of the Imperial Opera in Vienna, and several
years after that he introduced his baton to Russia.

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More recently he has conducted symphony concerts
in Warsaw and Berlin.

FREED, OSKAR, born, Berlin, August 10, 1871. For six
years from 1904* to 1910 he conducted the Stern
Gesangsverein in Berlin. In 1910, he turned his
energies towards symphonic music, distinguishing
himself by his intelligent performances of new and
unfamiliar music. In 1925, he was appointed con
ductor of the Berlin Symphony Orchestra, and since
that time he has given guest performances with the
Berlin Philharmonic, at the Deutsches Opera House,
as well as in Russia, the Scandinavian countries and
the United States. (See page 257) .

FUBTWANGLER, WmsELM. (See pages 264-269).

GABRXLOWTTSCH, OSSEP, born, St. Petersburg, February
7, 1878, world-famous concert-pianist who has ac
quired a great reputation as conductor. In 1907, he
led a series of orchestral concerts in New York which
proved that his musical talent could express itself
forcefully with the baton. When the Detroit Sym
phony Orchestra was founded in 1918, Gabrilowitsch
was appointed conductor. He has since held this
position with growing prestige, and has succeeded in
establishing the orchestra as one of the more important
symphonic organizations in America. He has also
given successful guest-performances with the New
York Philharmonic and the Philadelphia Symphony
Orchestra.

GANZ, RUDOLPH, born, Zurich, February 24, 1877.
After a successful career as concert-pianist, he was
appointed conductor of the St. Louis Symphony Or-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

chestra, a position he held for six years. Since that
time he has given guest performances at the Lewisohn
Stadium, New York, at the Hollywood Bowl, and with
orchestras in San Francisco, Denver and Los Angeles.
Since 1929, he has been the director of the Chicago
Musical College.

GAUBERT, PHILIPPE, born, Cahors, July 4, 1879. After
several successful seasons as one of the conductors of
the Conservatory concerts in Paris, he was appointed
first conductor to succeed Messager, in 1919. In
1920, he was appointed first conductor of the Paris
Opera, holding the position with esteem until the
present time.

GERICKE, WILHELM, born, Graz, Styria, April 18, 1845 ;
died, Vienna, November 1925. After serving a valua
ble apprenticeship under Hans Richter at the Vienna
Opera (1874), he assumed the direction of the con
certs of the GeseUschaft der MusiJcfreunde. From
1884 to 1889, and from 1898 to 1906 he held his
most important conductorial post with the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, which he brought to a high
degree of technical efficiency. (See page 58).

GERARD, NARCISSE, born, Nantes, January 27, 1797;
died, Paris, January 16, 1860. For nine years (1837-
1846) he was one of the principal conductors of the
Opera Comique, where his work proved to be of such
merit that he was soon thereafter appointed a con
ductor of the Opera. Ten years later, he became
general music director of that institution. He
likewise distinguished himself as a conductor of

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

symphonic-music, directing the Conservatory concerts
from 1847 with great success.

GODFREY, SIR DAN, born, London, 1868. He made his
debut as conductor with the London Military Band
in 1890, and has since that time become one of the
living authorities on band music. In 1893, he was
appointed conductor of the Bournemouth Municipal
Orchestra. In recent years, he has distinguished
himself as a guest-conductor of leading London
orchestras.

GOLSCHMAIW, V;LADIMIR, born, Paris, December 16,
1893. He first came to the attention of the music
world in 1919, with a series of Concerts Golschmawt
which he organized in Paris, introducing many now-
prominent young French composers for the first time.
In 1924, he came to New York as guest-conductor
of the New York Symphony Society, and since that
time has assumed the leadership of the St. Louis
Symphony Orchestra. (See pages 256-257).

GOOSSENS, EUGENE, born, London, May 26, 1893. After
assisting Sir Thomas Beecham as conductor of the
Queen's Hall Orchestra, he made his official debut by
directing Stanford's opera The Critic. In 1921, he
founded his own orchestra and gave six concerts
devoted principally to new and unfamiliar music. He
disclosed such unmistakable talent with these concerts
that his conductorial career was instantly established.
In 1922, he brought his baton to Covent Garden;
in 1926, he directed several performances of the
Diaghilev Ballet. Shortly thereafter, he was invited
as a guest for several performances with the New

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

York Symphony Society. He was appointed perma
nent conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra
in 1931. (See page 256).

GOSSEC, FRANCOIS JOSEPH, born, Vergnies, Belgian
Heinault, January 17, 1734; died, Passy, February
16, 1829. He is considered the founder of symphonic
music in France, and one of the important figures in
the early history of conducting who perfected and
improved orchestral technique. After conducting sev
eral less important orchestras the private band of
La Poupliniere (1751) and the band of Prince Conti
at Chantilly (1762) he founded and directed the
Concerts des Amateurs which was vitally instrumental
in introducing important symphonic music to France.
In 1773, he reorganized and directed the Concerts
Spirituels, and in 1780 he became one of the conduc
tors of the Paris Opera.

GUI, VITTOBIO, born, Rome, September 14, 1885. He
began his career in 1907 as conductor at the Teatro
Adriano. For three years thereafter he directed opera
at the San Carlo in Naples. In 1925, he was ap
pointed general music director at the Teatro di Turno.
Since 1933, he has been one of the principal conduc
tors at the annual Spring Florence music festival.

HABENECK, FRANCOIS ANTOINE, born, Mzires, Janu
ary 23, 1781 ; died, Paris, February 8, 1849. For
twenty-three years (1824-1847) he conducted at the
Theatre de POpera where he gained valuable experi
ence in his art. His enormous importance in baton
history, however, rests in his work with the Seattle
des Concerts du Conservatoire which he founded in

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

1828, and which he directed for twenty years. (See
pages 46-47).

HADI/EY, HENUY KEMBALI,, born, Somerville, Massa
chusetts, December 20, 1874. Acquiring his early
conductorial experience by directing European orches
tras, he became conductor of the Seattle Symphony
in 1909. Two years later, he became the principal
conductor of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra.
For almost a decade, beginning with 1920, he was
an assistant conductor of the New York Philharmonic.
More recently, he has conducted the Manhattan Sym
phony Orchestra in an annual series of winter
symphonic concerts in New York. He has been a
guest-conductor of major symphony-orchestras in
Europe and America.

HAGEMAN, RICHABD, born, Leewarden, Holland. He
was an assistant conductor of the Amsterdam Royal
Opera at the age of sixteen. His competence with
the baton proved to be unmistakable, and so, two years
later, he became first conductor. From 1908 until
1921, he was a conductor of the Metropolitan Opera
House in New York, directing most of the Sunday
night concerts. He has also been a conductor at the
Chicago Civic Opera, the Los Angeles Opera Com
pany, and the Ravinia Opera.

, Sra CHARLES, born, Hagen, Westphalia, April
11, 1819 ; died, Greenheys Lane, Manchester, October
25, 1895. His early conductorial experience included
the direction of the Gentlemen's Concerts in Man
chester (1845) and of a new choral society (1852).
In 1857, he founded the Manchester Symphony Or-

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

chestra, and his work there brought him a national
reputation. From 1860, he officiated at important
concerts, operatic performances and festivals through
out Europe, conducting the Bristol festivals (1873-
1893), the Reid concerts at Edinburgh (1868), the
London Sacred Harmonic Society and the Liverpool
Philharmonic. After his death, the name of his Man
chester Orchestra was changed, in his honor, to the
Halle Orchestra.

HANSON, HOWARD, born, Wahoo, Nebraska, October 28,
1896. As director of the Eastman School of Music
in Rochester, he was largely responsible for bringing
into being the annual festival of modern American
mtisic which is each year given under his baton by the
Rochester Symphony Orchestra. He has given guest
performances with the New York Symphony, the
New York Philharmonic, and symphony orchestras of
Cleveland, San Francisco, Chicago, Boston, Los
Angeles and St. Louis.

HARMATI, SANDOR, born, Budapest, July 9, 1892. After
a short experience as conductor of the Women's String
Orchestra in New York and the Morristown Orchestra
in New Jersey, he received an appointment as director
of the Omaha Symphony Orchestra which he held for
five years (1925-1930). He has been a guest con
ductor of the Pasdeloup orchestra in Paris, the Berlin
Philharmonic and leading symphonic organizations in
America.

HARRISON, JULIUS ALLEN GREENWAY, born, Stourport,
Worcestershire, March 26, 1885. He served his con-
ductorial apprenticeship as an operatic conductor with

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

the Beecham Opera Company. In 1925, he succeeded
Eugene Goossens as conductor of the Handel Society.
Since that time he has given many commendable oper
atic performances at the Royal Academy of Music,
and directed symphonic concerts of the Scottish
Orchestra.

HAHTY, SIR HERBERT HAMILTON, born, Hillsborough,
Ireland, December 4, 1879. He first gained a great
reputation conducting concerts of the London Sym
phony Orchestra. In 1920, he was appointed director
of the Halle Orchestra at Manchester, a position he
has held since that time with enormous distinction.
In 1924, he brought the Halle Orchestra to London
for a series of symphonic concerts which was sensa
tionally successful. He visited America in 1934 and
1935 in guest performances with leading symphonic-
organizations.

HASSLEMANS, Louis, born, Paris, July 25, 1878. He
made his debut as conductor with the Lamoureux or
chestra in Paris in 1905. In 1907, he founded and
directed the Hasselmans concerts in Paris which
brought his name to prominence. From 1909 until
1911, he was a conductor at the Opera Comique.
After directing the Montreal Opera for two years
(1911-1913), the Marseilles Concerts Classiques
(1913-1914) and the Chicago Opera (1918-1920),
he joined the company of the Metropolitan Opera
House as one of its principal conductors.

HEGER, ROBERT, born, Strassburg, August 19, 1886-
In 1907, he became conductor of the Strassburg Opera
where he showed sufficient talent to earn for himself

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

a major post with the Vienna Volksoper four years
later. From 1913 to 1921 he conducted the Nurem-
burg Opera, and from 1921 on he directed opera in
Munich. His most important conductorial engage
ments took place at Nuremberg, the Munich Grand
Opera House, the Vienna State Opera, the Royal
Opera and Covent Garden at London.

HENSCHEI,, SIR ISIDOR GEORGE, born, Breslau, February
18, 1850; died, Aviemore, Scotland, September 10,
1934. He was the first conductor of the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, directing this organization dur
ing its first three years of existence (18811884).
From 1885 until 1896 he directed the London Sym
phony concerts; and in 1893 he became the first con
ductor of the Scottish Orchestra at Glasgow. In 1930,
he returned to America as a guest-conductor of the
Boston Symphony Orchestra, in celebration of that
orchestra's fiftieth anniversary. (See page 58).

HERTZ, ALFRED, born, Frankfort-on-Main, July 15,
1872. From 1891 until 1902 he enjoyed a prosper
ous conductorial career in Europe, directing at the
Stadt-Theatre at Halle (1891), Altenburg (1892-
1895), orchestral concerts in London (1899) and at
Breslau (1899-1902). In 1902 he came to America
as a conductor of German opera at the Metropolitan
Opera House, and it was here that he directed the
first performance of Parsifal given outside of Bay-
reuth (1903). He remained at the Metropolitan
Opera House until 1915, and resigned in order to
become principal conductor of the San Francisco
Symphony Orchestra, a post he held for fifteen years.

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

From 1922 until 1925 he directed summer orchestral
concerts at the Hollywood Bowl.

HHJLER, JOHANN ADAM (real name, Hiiller), born
Wendisch-Ossig, Prussia, December 25, 1728; died,
June 16, 1794. From 1775, he conducted choral con
certs, and in 1776 he established Concerts Spirituels
in Germany, similar to those held in Paris. From
1781 to 1785 he was principal conductor of the Leip
zig Gewandhaus Orchestra, where he established a
great reputation as conductor. He was likewise the
founder of the German Singspiel.

HOESSIJN, FRANZ VON, born, Munich, December 31,
1885. He has had an active career as conductor of
opera in Danzig, St. Gallen, Liibeck and Mannheim.
In 1922, he was appointed conductor of the Berlin
State Opera, and shortly therefore he officiated, for
several years, as a principal conductor at the Wagner
festivals at Bayreuth.

HOOGSTRATEN, Wn/LEM VAN, born, Utrecht, March 18,
1884. He gained a European reputation, principally
with a Brahms festival which he conducted in Vienna,
and a Mozart festival in Salzburg. In 1921, he be
came one of the principal conductors of the New York
Philharmonic. It was in that year that he began
conducting the summer concerts at the Lewisohn
Stadium, instituting for the first time programs of
unquestionably high standard; he has held this posi
tion ever since with enormous popularity. Since 1925,
he has been the conductor of the Portland Symphony
Orchestra. His engagements as guest-conductor have
been many, including appearances in Oslo, Stockholm,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

Amsterdam, Berlin, Leipzig, Zurich, Vienna, Munich,
Philadelphia, Detroit, St. Louis, Los Angeles and
New York.

HoREN-STErsr, JASCHA, born, Kiev, May 6, 1898. In
1922, he assumed his first conductorial position in
Berlin, directing the principal symphony-orchestras
in guest performances. His most important post
came in 1928, when he became conductor in several
theatres in Diisseldorf. Since that time he has led
symphony concerts throughout Germany.

ITTJRBI, Josi, born, Valencia, November 22, 1895, one
of the most celebrated pianists of our time who has
recently turned to the baton. He has given guest
performances at the Lewisohn Stadium in New York,
in Mexico City, and at Philadelphia. (See pages
273-274).

JAMES, PHILIP, born, New York, 1890. In 1904, he
entered upon a conductorial career by directing choral
societies in New York. He made his official dbut
as orchestral conductor at the Royal Albert Hall,
London, in 1908. After gaining further experience
as conductor, by directing the New Jersey Orchestra
and the Brooklyn Orchestral Society, he assumed his
present post as director of the Bamberger Little Sym
phony Orchestra which for six years has been broad
casting a weekly symphonic hour over Station W.O.R.

JANSSEN, WERNER, born, New York City, June 1, 1900.
His first experience as conductor was at the Roxy
Theatre, New York, a position he held for a very short
time. In 1930, as a recipient of the Price de Rome
he toured Europe, acting as a guest-conductor of im-

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ERICH KLEIBER

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

portant orchestras in Berlin, Budapest, Helsingfors,
Riga, Rome and Turin. His European success, pro
cured for him an appointment as one of the conductors
of the New York Philharmonic during the season of
1934-1935. He has since been invited to be guest of
leading orchestras in America. (See pages 271-273) .

JTTIXIEN, Louis ANTOINE. (See pages 80-82).

KAJASTUS, ROBERT, born, Helsingfors, December 2,
1856; died, Helsingfors, July 6, 1933. In 1882, he
established the choral society at Helsingfors where he
gained his early experience with the baton. In 1886,
he founded the Philharmonic Orchestra of Helsing
fors, and it was here that he gained a wide European
reputation as a major symphonic conductor. He was
principally celebrated as a conductor of Sibelius'
music, whose major works he introduced to the world.
In 1932, Ka janus conducted an entire program de
voted to Sibelius at Queen's Hall in London.

KJtNDiLER, HANS, born, Rotterdam, January 8, 1893.
After serving as a guest-conductor to important Euro
pean orchestras in Paris, Brussels, Vienna, Prague,
Rome and Milan he was asked to assume the leader
ship of the newly-founded National Symphony Or
chestra in Washington, D. C. in 1930. He has held
the position since that time, elevating the orchestra
to a front rank.

KLEEBER, ERICH, born, Vienna, August 5, 1890. (See
page 264) .

RLEMPERER, OTTO* (See pages 258-263).

KLENATJ, PAUL VON, born, Copenhagen, February 2,
1883. In 1907, he launched his career by conducting

321

THE MA1ST WITH THE BATON

opera in Freiburg (Baden), assuming a similar post
at Stuttgart one year later. He founded the Copen
hagen Philharmonic Orchestra in 1920, and it was in
the capacity of its director that he proved himself to
be one of Europe's eminent conductors. In 1924, he
was selected to direct a festival concert in Frankfort
in honor of Delius' sixtieth birthday. He likewise
distinguished himself as a director of the Wiener
KonzerfhausgesellscTmft and of the Wiener Singa-
Jcademie.

KUNDWORTH, KABL, born, Hanover, September 25,
1830; died, Oranienburg, July 27, 1916. Together
with Joseph Joachim he directed the Berlin Philhar
monic during its first year. For several years he
conducted the concerts of the Wagner-Verein in
Berlin.

KNAPPERTSBUSCH, HANS, born, Elberfeld, March 12,
1888. In 1912, he directed a festival devoted to
Wagnerian music-drama in Holland. His success
brought him the following year a permanent position
at the Elberfeld opera. From 1919 until 1922 he
directed opera at Dessau, and then resigned to assume
his most important post that of conductor of the
Munich State Opera, which he has held with distinction
until the present day.

KNOCK, ERNEST, born, Karlsruhe, August 1, 1875.
After serving as an assistant to Felix Mottl at the
Karlsruhe Opera (1898), he assumed the post of
director of the opera at Strassburg. For a short
while, he was an assistant conductor at Bayreuth
(1904). For the next ten years, he was a principal

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

conductor of opera at Essen, Cologne, Elberfeld and
Rotterdamm. He came to America in 1914 to become
one of the conductors of the Century Opera Company
in New York. Since that time, he has toured the
country frequently with visiting operatic companies,
primarily devoted to Wagnerian music-drama.

KO:LAJI, VICTOR, born, Pesth, February 12, 1888. From
1915 to 1919 he served as assistant to Walter Dam-
rosch on the New York Symphony Society. Since
1919, he has been an assistant conductor to Ossip
Gabrilowitsch with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.
He has frequently conducted series of summer concerts
at Detroit and Chicago as well as radio concerts.

KOUSSEVITZKY, SERGE. (See pages 227-240).

KRAUSS, CLEMENS, born, Vienna, March 31, 1893.
After conducting opera at the German theatre at Riga
(1913-1914), Nuremburg (1915-1916) and at Stet
tin (1916-1921) he became one of the principal con
ductors at the Vienna State Opera, and of the Vienna
Tonkiinstlerverein. For five years from 1924 to
1929 he officiated as Intendant of Opera and director
of Museum concerts in Frankfort. From 1929 to
1934 he was principal conductor of the Vienna State
Opera, a post he resigned in order to become director
of the Berlin State Opera. He was guest conductor
of the Munich Festival (1925-1926^ of the Salzburg
Festival (1926, 1929, 1930-1934), of the New York
Philharmonic and the Philadelphia Symphony Or
chestra (1929), and of principal orchestras through
out Europe. (See pages 255-256) .

KBIPS, JOSEF, born, Vienna, April 8, 1902. In 1920,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

he served as choral director at the Volksoper in Vienna,
and three years later he became opera-director in
Aussig. Since that time he has held the position of
Kapellmeister at the Landestheater in Ortmund and
Karlsruhe.

LAMOTTREUX, CHABLES, born, Bordeaux, September 21,
1834; died, Paris, December 21, 1899. In 1873 he
originated the Societe de VHarmonie Sacree which
devoted itself to the performance of great choral
music. After serving for five years as an assistant
conductor at the Conservatory concerts (1872-1877),
and for one year as an assistant at the Opera (1876)
he was given his first distinguished conductorial posi
tion as principal conductor at the Opera. In 1881
he established the Concerts Lamoureux, and it was as
conductor of these concerts that he achieved historical
fame. He was a frequent guest-conductor in Rouen
and London. (See pages 49-50) .

LANGE, HANS. For many years he was employed as
violinist in leading symphony orchestras. He first
began conducting in Frankfort, assisting Willem
Mengelberg in performances of the Musewmgesell-
schaft, and directing the Frankfort Bach Society for
three years. In 1923 he came to New York to become
assistant concertmaster and assistant conductor of the
New York Philharmonic. Since 1931 he has been a
regular conductor of the New York Philharmonic.
In 1935, he directed a special historical series devoted
to music for chamber-orchestra with the Philharmonic
Orchestra. (See pages 275-276) .

LEGINSKA, ETHEL, born, Hull, England, 1890, dis-

324

Renato Toppo

HANS LANGE

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

tinguished pianist who, in 1924, turned to conducting.
She has directed concerts of the New York Philhar
monic, the Boston Symphony, the Boston Women's
Symphony and the Women's Symphony Orchestra of
Chicago.

LEVI, HERMANN, born, Giessen, November 7, 1839;
died, Munich, May 13, 1900. His early important
positions as conductor included the direction of opera
at Saarbriicken (1859), of German opera at Rotter-
damm (1861) and as Kapellmeister at Karlsruhe
(1864) . From 1872 to 1896, he established a world
wide fame as conductor, in the post of Kapellmeister
in Munich. On July 28, 1882 he conducted the
world's first performance of Parsifal, at Bayreuth.
One year later he was selected to direct the music at
Richard Wagner's funeral.

LEVIN, SYLVAN. For several years an assistant of Leo
pold Stokowski with the Philadelphia Symphony
Orchestra, he first came to notice in 1934 when he
substituted for Stokowski on many of the broadcasts
of the Philadelphia Orchestra on the Chesterfield
evening quarter-hour. In the Fall of 1934, he was
appointed conductor of the York (Pennsylvania)
Symphony Orchestra. (See page 276).

LISZT, FRANZ, born, Raiding, October 22, 1811; died,
Bayreuth, July 31, 1886, world-famous composer
whose name is likewise prominent in baton history.
On November 2, 1842 he became Kapellmeister at
Weimar, where his baton was instrumental in intro
ducing many new operatic and symphonic works to
the music-world. For ten years, Liszt's conducting

325

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

made Weimar a musical center of Europe. From
1852 on, he directed many music festivals in Karls
ruhe, Magdeburg, Aix and Leipzig. In 1870, he
directed an important Beethoven festival in Rome.
(See pages 84-85).

LUXLY, JEAN BAPTISTS, born, at or near Florence, No
vember 29, 1639 ; died, Paris, March 22, 1687, cele
brated composer and prominent conductor of his day.
Louis XIV established a band expressly for him to
train, and it was here that he gained his first experi
ence as a conductor. For many years he was one of
the principal conductors at the Paris Opera. In 1662,
his conductorial talents were singularly honored when
he was appointed "La Charge de Maitre de Muslque
de la Famllle Royale."

MAGANINI, QTTINTO, born, Fairfield, California, Novem
ber SO, 1897. In 1928, he was invited as a guest
conductor to the Mannes concerts in Greenwich and
East Orange. He has since that time given guest
performances in New York (1928), Paris (1929)
and with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra
(1930). He founded the New York Chamber Sym
phony Orchestra, which for several seasons has per
formed concerts of unfamiliar old and new music in
New York.

MAHLER, GTJSTAV. (See pages 122-126).

MANNES, DAVID, born, February 16, 1866. In 1919 he
directed symphony-concerts for the benefit of soldiers
and sailors at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in
New York. In 1920, these concerts were opened to
the public at large, and since that time he has annually

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

conducted a series of eight free concerts at the
Museum.

MANNS, SIR AUGUST FREEDRICH, born, Stolzenburg,
March 12, 1825 ; died, London, March 1, 1907. For
many years he devoted himself to the direction of band
concerts, first at Elbing and Posen (1840), then at
Konigsberg and Cologne (1848-1851), and finally at
the Crystal Palace in London (1855). He changed
the band at the Crystal Palace to a full symphony
orchestra, and from that time on devoted himself more
seriously to the symphonic repertoire. Up to 1901,
he had conducted 14,000 concerts band, symphonic
and choral

MARINUZZI, GIUSEPPE GINO, born, Palermo, March 24,
1882. After conducting operatic performances at the
Costanzi in Rome, he came to America in 1920 to suc
ceed Campanini as artistic director of the Chicago
Opera. He returned to Italy in 1922, directing in
principal opera houses, particularly at the La Scala in
Milan where he achieved a great reputation as a con
ductor of Italian opera.

MASCAGNI, PIETRO, born, Leghorn, December 7, 1863,
eminent composer of Italian opera who likewise boasts
of a distinguished career with baton. In 1885 he be
gan conducting by directing the town orchestra at
Cerignola. From 1895 to 1902 he conducted festivals
of orchestral music in Rome. In 1902 he toured
America as the conductor of an opera-company in a
repertoire of his own works, and eight years later he
revisited America. Since that time he has frequently
conducted opera and festival concerts in Rome.

327

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

MENDELSSOHN, FELIX BAHTHOLDY, born, Hamburg, Feb
ruary 3, 1809; died, Leipzig, November 4, 1847,
world-celebrated composer and eminent conductor.
In 1829, he acquired a permanent place in music his
tory by directing the first performance of Bach's St.
Matthew's Passion with the Singakademie, thereby for
the first time bringing Bach from obscurity and
neglect to fame and recognition. In 1833, he con
ducted the Lower Rhine festival at Diisseldorf . Two
years later he became the conductor of the Leipzig
Gewandhaus Orchestra, and in this position he be
came one of the most significant names in the early
history of conducting. Subsequently, he served as
Kapellmeister at the courts of Berlin and Dresden.
One year before his death, he conducted at Aix, Diis
seldorf, Liege, Cologne and Birmingham. (See pages
79-80).

MENGELBERG, WILLEM, born, Utrecht, March 28, 1871.
From 1891 to 1895 he directed the town concerts at
Lucerne. In 1895, he was appointed conductor of
the Concertgebow Orchestra at Amsterdam, a position
he has held ever since; and it has been principally
through his efforts and talent that the Concertgebow
has taken an imposing position among the great orch
estras of the world. From 1911 to 1914 he conducted
the London Symphony Orchestra and the Royal Phil
harmonic regularly. In 1921, he came to America as
a guest of the New Symphony Orchestra of New
York, and the following year he was appointed one
of the permanent conductors of the New York Phil
harmonic, a position he held for nine years. He has

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

made numerous tours throughout all of Europe with
his Concertgebow Orchestra. (See pages 243-252).

MESSAGER, ANDRE CHARLES, born, Montlucon, Decem
ber 3, 1853. After serving a short apprenticeship as
conductor of the Theatre Eden in Brussels (1880)
and as choirmaster at Saint-Marie-des-Batignolles
(1882-1884) he was appointed conductor at the
Opera Comique in Paris, a post he held for five years.
From 1901 to 1907 he was artistic director at Covent
Garden, London, and from 1907 until 1919 artistic
director of the Opera in Paris. In 1918 he made an
extensive American tour as conductor with a French
symphony-orchestra*

MESSNER, JOSEPH, born, Sehwaz-Tyrol, Austria, Feb
ruary 27, 1893. He made his debut as conductor in
Salzburg in 1922. In 1926, he became choirmaster
at the Salzburg Cathedral, and since that time he has
conducted an annual series of choral performances at
the Salzburg Festival. He has been a guest conduc
tor of the Warsaw Philharmonic, the Vienna Phil
harmonic, and has made extenstive European tours
with the Salzburg Cathedral Choir.

Moi/nsrARi, BERNARDINO, born, Rome, April 11, 1880.
In 1912 he became the principal conductor of the
Augusteo in Rome where he acquired a great reputa
tion with a series of festivals devoted to the music of
Scarlatti, Beethoven, Saint-Saens, Debussy etc. He
toured Italy extensively in 1915, and ten years later
made a still more extensive tour of Italy, Switzerland,
Germany and Czecho-SlovaMa. In 1928, he came to
America as a guest of the New York Philharmonic, and

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

since that time has directed performances of leading
American symphony orchestras. (See pages 254-255).

MONTEITX, PIERRE, born, Paris, April 4, 1875. He
served a long apprenticeship as conductor beginning
with 1894, directing concerts and opera in Paris, and
officiating as a guest conductor in London, Berlin,
Vienna and Pesth. In 1916, he came to America with
the Russian Ballet, and from 1917 to 1919 was one of
the principal conductors at the Metropolitan Opera
House. In 1918, he took over Karl Muck's baton
with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, remaining its
principal conductor until 1924. For several years
after that, he was a guest conductor of leading orches
tras throughout America. In 1935, hp was appointed
conductor of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra
and guest-conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

MO'RIKE, EDTJARD, born, Stuttgart, August 16, 1877.
For a long period he directed operatic performances
in Rostock, Kiel, Stettin and Halle. After assisting
at Bayreuth, he went to Paris to help direct the first
French performance of Salome by Richard Strauss.
In 1925 he was appointed conductor of the Singa-
Ttademie in Dresden.

MOTTL, FELIX, born, Vienna, August 24, 1856; died,
Munich, July 2, 1911. After serving as leader of the
Wagnerverein in Vienna, he went to Bayreuth in 1875
to assist in the first performances there. In 1880, he
became Kapellmeister at Karlsruhe, conducting the
Philharmonic concerts in that city until 1892. In
1886, he was appointed chief conductor at Bayreuth,
where he firmly established himself as one of the fore-

330

EUGENE ORMANDY

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

most Wagnerian conductors of his time. In 1907, he
acquired further prestige as Kapellmeister in Munich.
He was a guest-conductor in London, Paris and New
York.

MUCK, KABX. (See pages 143-159).

NIKISCH, ARTUR. (See pages 127-142).

ORMANDY, EUGENE, born, Budapest, November 18, 1899.
After serving as solo concertmaster at the Capitol
Theatre in New York in 1921, he became first associate
conductor. He made several successful appearances
as conductor with the Judson Radio Program Corp.,
revealing such emphatic talents that he was invited as
a guest with the Philadelphia Orchestra. In 1931, he
was appointed permanent conductor of the Minneap
olis Symphony Orchestra. (See pages 274-275).

PANIZZA, ETTORE, born, Buenos Aires, August 12, 1875.
From 1889, he conducted in Italian theatres for sev
eral years. In 1907, he was appointed a conductor of
Italian opera at Covent Garden, London, and for six
years he held this post with distinction. Since 1916,
he has been one of the principal conductors at the La
Scala in Milan. In 1933 he came to America to be
come one of the conductors at the Metropolitan Opera
House, New York.

PAPI, GENNARO. In 1906, he was chorusmaster at San
Severo di Puglia. After experience as assistant con
ductor in opera houses in Milan, Warsaw, Odessa,
London, he came to New York in 1917 and made his
d6but at the Metropolitan Opera House in Manon.
His performance was so successful that he was retained
as a permanent conductor for many years.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

PARAY, PAUL, born, Treport, May 24, 1886. In 1921,
he was an assistant conductor of the Lamoureaux or
chestra where he gained attention with vital perform
ances of Ravel, Berlioz and Cesar Franck. In 1923,
he became principal conductor of the orchestra, suc
ceeding Camille Chevillard. He has conducted sym
phony concerts in Vichy.

PASDELOTJP, JULES ETIENNE, born, Paris, September 15,
1819 ; died, Fontainbleau, August 13, 1887. In 1851,
he founded the Soclete des Jeunes Artistes du Con
servatoire) whose concerts he transferred to the Cirque
d'Hiver ten years later. For a while, he directed men
choral societies in Paris. In 1868 he directed at the
Theatre Lyrique. (See pages 47-48) .

PAUMGAHTNEK, BERNARD, born, Vienna, November 14,
1887. He made his conductorial debut in Vienna in
1908, and two years later gave successful perform
ances with the Tonkiinstler Orchestra in the same city.
He achieved prominence conducting the Mozarteum
orchestra at the annual Salzburg festival, and for
many years now has been in charge of the perform
ances of the Mozart serenades in the Courtyard of
the Archbishop, one of the features of the Salzburg
Festival.

PATJR, EMEL, born, Czernowitz, August 29, 1855. His
preparatory years as conductor were spent in Kassel
and Konigsberg. In 1880, he was appointed Kapell
meister at Mannheim and was placed in charge of the
subscription concerts. In 1893, he came to America
to become conductor of the Boston Symphony Orches
tra. From 1898 until 1902 he conducted the New

332

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

York Philharmonic, and in 1899-1900 he was prin
cipal Wagnerian conductor at the Metropolitan Opera
House. For six years (1904-1910) he was conductor
of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and then re
turned to Germany to direct the Berlin State Opera.

PFITZNER, HANS, born, Moscow, May 5, 1869; died, Ger
many, 1935. In 1894, he assumed his first major post
as conductor, when he became an assistant at the
Stadttheater in Mayence. Then followed an active
career with the baton that included a post at the
Theater des Westens (1903), with the Kaim Orchestra
in Munich (1907) and as director of the Strassburg
Opera. In 1919 he was called upon to conduct the
Munich Konzertverein, and one year later he was sin
gularly honored by receiving the appointment of Gen
eral Music Director of Bavaria. Since that time, he
has intermittently conducted symphonic concerts in
Munich and Berlin.

PIERN^J, HENRI CONSTANT GABRIEL, born, Metz, August
16, 1863. After being an assistant to Colonne as con
ductor of his famous orchestra in Paris for seven
years, he became principal conductor in 1910. Since
that time he has conducted Colonne's orchestra with
singular success. In 1925 he became a member of the
Academie des Beaux-Arts, conducting regular con
certs of the orchestra at the Institute.
PITT, PERCY, born, London, January 4, 1870 ; died, Eng
land, November 1932. From 1915 to 1920 he was
director of the Beecham Opera Company. For four
years after that he assumed the artistic direction of
the British National Opera Company. In 1922, he

333

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

associated himself with radio work, becoming artistic
director of the British Broadcasting Company. Two
years later, he became music director of the Covent
Garden Syndicate.

POHLIG, KARL, born, Teplitz, February 10, 1864. After
serving as an assistant to Gustav Mahler at the Vienna
State Opera (1897), he asumed the position of Kapell
meister at Coburg. In 1900, he became director of the
Stuttgart Opera and conductor of symphony concerts
in that city. In 1907, he came to America to become
conductor of the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra,
a post he held until 1912 when he was succeeded by
Leopold Stokowski. Since that time he has held direc
torial posts at the Hamburg Opera and at the Bruns
wick Opera.

POI^ACCO, GIORGO, born, Venice, April 12, 1875. After
conducting operatic performances in Italy, Brussels,
Lisbon, Warsaw and St. Petersburg, he came to South
America where for eleven years he conducted in opera
houses in Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro. For three
years he was principal conductor at the La Scala in
Milan. In 1911, at Puccini's personal request he was
placed in charge of the Savage production of the
Girl of the Golden West. In 1912 he became one of
the chief conductors at the Metropolitan Opera House
succeeding Toscanini, and in 1918 he officiated over
the Chicago Opera Company. His repertoire includes
more than 150 operas.

POU:LET, GAS-TON, born, Paris, April 10, 1892. After
serving a long period with the Poulet String Quartet

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

which he founded, he organized the Association des
Concerts Poulet which gives annual series of orchestral
concerts at the Sarah Bernhardt Theatre in Paris.

POI/LAK, EGON, born, Prague, May 3, 1879 ; died, Ger
many, June 14, 1933. In 1905, he became first conduc
tor at the Stadttheater in Bremen. From 1910 to 1912
he held a similar post in Leipzig, and five years later
he transferred his baton to Frankfort. Shortly before
his death he was one of the principal conductors at the
Hamburg Opera, and at the annual Munich festival.

PRUWER, JULIUS, born, Vienna, February 20, 1874.
From 1894 to 1896 he gained valuable experience as
conductor at the Cologne Opera. In 1896 he accepted
his most important post to date, as city director of
music in Breslau. In 1907, he toured with the Bres-
lau forces throughout Germany in their production of
Richard Strauss' Salome, From 1920 to 1923 he was
artistic director at Breslau Opera, and since 1925 the
permanent conductor of popular concerts of the Berlin
Philharmonic.

RABAUD, HENRI BENJAMIN, born, Paris, November 10,
1873. He assumed a conductorial position at the
Paris Opera in 1894. From 1914 to 1918 he was first
conductor at the Opera. In 1918 he came to America
to direct the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He re
turned to Paris the following year to become director
of the Paris Conservatory.

RACHMANINOFF, SERGE, born, Onega, Novgorod, March
20, 1873, world-famous pianist and composer, equally
distinguished as conductor. In 1912, he became direc
tor of opera at Mamontov, after which he conducted at

335

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

the Royal Opera in Moscow. He has been a guest-
conductor of the leading symphonic organizations in
Europe and America, principally in his own music.

RAPEE, ERNO, born, Budapest, June 4, 1891. After
several years as musical director of the Rivoli Theatre
and the Capitol Theatre in New York, he was brought
by S. L. Rothafel in 1926 to the new Roxy Theatre
as first conductor. At the present time he is director
of the symphony orchestra at Radio City, New York,
with which organization he has performed frequent
symphony concerts over the radio.

REINECKE, KARL HEINRICH, born, Altona, June 23,
1824; died, Leipzig, March 10, 1910. In 1854, he
conducted choral and orchestral concerts at Barmen.
After one year as conductor of the Singakademie in
Breslau (1859) he received his most important ap
pointment as director of the Leipzig Gewandhaus
Orchestra. For thirty-five years he held this position
with great prestige.

REINER, FRITZ, born, Pesth, December 19, 1888. In
1909, he was chorusmaster at the Komische Opera in
Pesth, and from 1911 to 1914 conductor at the Volks-
oper. For seven years (1914-1921) he enjoyed a
distinguished career as principal conductor at the
Dresden Opera. He came to America in 1922 to as
sume the post of principal conductor of the Cincinnati
Symphony Orchestra, where he remained for nine
years. He has been a guest conductor in Rome, Spain,
New York, Philadelphia and Los Angeles. Recently he
distinguished himself with operatic performances with
the Philadelphia Opera Company. (See page 254).

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Wurillo Studio

ARTUR RODZINSKI

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

born, Courseulles-sur-mer, Calvados,
September 5, 1879. For a short while (1907) he was
director of the chorus of the Opera-Comique in Paris.
Turning to orchestral conducting, he directed the
Concerts Populaires at Angers, the Concerts Sainte-
Cecile in Bordeaux, and finally the Concerts Durand
in Paris where he first came to prominence. In 1910,
he conducted the first festival devoted to French music
to take place in Germany, at Munich. Two years
later, he conducted performances of the Diaghilev Bal
let in London, Paris and South America. From 1918
to 1923 he gained further prominence with the baton
by directing the Pasdeloup concerts in Paris.

RICHTER, HANS, (See pages 117-121).

RODZINSKI, AaTUR, born, Spalato, Dalmatia, 1894.
Early experience as conductor was procured at the
Warsaw Opera and with the Warsaw Philharmonic.
Stokowski, on a visit to Warsaw, heard Rodzinski's
performance of Die Melstersinger and was so im
pressed that he invited the young conductor to be his
assistant in Philadelphia. After four years with Sto
kowski, Rodzinski became conductor of the Los
Angeles Philharmonic (1929-1933). In 1933, he be
came the conductor of the Cleveland Symphony Or
chestra. (See page 276) .

RONALD, SIB LANDON, born, London, June 7, 1873.
After a career as concert-pianist and accompanist to
such world-renowned singers as Melba, Sir Ronald
turned to conducting, giving performances at the
Lyric Theatre in London, and with the London Sym
phony Orchestra (1907). He has since been an im-

337

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

portant conductor of such leading English, orchestras
as the Liverpool Philharmonic, the Manchester Halle
Orchestra and the Scottish Orchestra, and has given
guest performances in principal cities throughout
Europe. Since 1908, he has been a conductor of the
Royal Albert Hall Orchestra.

Ross, HUGH, born, Langport, England, August 21,
1898. In 1921, he conducted orchestral and operatic
performances in London and Oxford. Towards the
end of the same year, he became conductor of the
Winnipeg Male Choir, making extensive tours with
that organization throughout the United States and
Canada. For a short period, he served as a guest con
ductor of the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra and the
Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra. Since 1927, he
has been the conductor of the Schola Cantorum in
New York.

ROTHWEIX, WALTER HENRY, born, London, September
22, 1872; died, Los Angeles, March 13, 1927. From
1905 to 1907 he was an assistant of Gustav Mahler at
the Hamburg Opera. His early experience as a con
ductor was procured at Breslau and Vienna. Coming
to America, he first toured with the H. W. Savage Co.,
and then assumed the post of conductor of the St.
Paul Symphony Orchestra (1908-1915). In 1917
he was guest-conductor in Cincinnati and Detroit, and
two years later he was appointed director of the Los
Angeles Philharmonic.

SAFONOV, VASSILY ILYITCH, born, Tertersk, Caucasus,
February 6, 1852; died, Kislovodsk, March 1918.
For fifteen years (1890-1905) he was director of the

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Russian Musical Society concerts in Moscow, where
he acquired an imposing- reputation as conductor of
symphonic music. Esteemed the foremost conductor
in Russia at the time, he was invited by the New York
Philharmonic to be permanent director for three years
(1906-1909). Returning to Russia in 1911, he be
came director of the Russian Musical Society concerts
at Petrograd. He was a frequent guest to principal
orchestras in England. During his entire career he
attracted much comment because in his conducting he
dispensed with the baton.

SAXOMOST, JOHANN PETER, born, Bonn, February 2,
1745 ; died, London, November 28, 1815. After serv
ing as concertmaster of a small opera company orches
tra belonging to Prince Henry of Prussia, he settled in
London, and in 1781 became conductor at Covent
Garden. Prom 1784 to 1786, he conducted symphony
concerts in London. In 1813, he was instrumental in
the founding of the Royal Philharmonic in London,
which he conducted until his death.

SAMINSKY, LAZARE, born, Vale-Gotzulovo, October 27,
1882. He made his first important appearance as con
ductor in 1909, when he directed the Petrograd Con
servatory Orchestra in a program devoted to his own
works. In 1913, he conducted his own compositions
in Moscow at the invitation of Serge Koussevitzky.
He has conducted concerts in principal cities through
out Europe, and has directed special festivals devoted
to modern music in Paris in 1923, 1925, 1926, 1928
and 1929. At the present time, he is choral director
at the Temple Emanu-El, New York.

339

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

SARGENT, HAROLD MALCOM WATTS, born, Stamford,
Lincolnshire, April 29, 1895. In 1921 he conducted
at a Queen's Hall Promenade Concert a Program de
voted to his own works. His second important appear
ance as conductor took place in 1924, when he directed
the first performance of Vaughan-Williams* opera,
Hugh the Drover, at His Majesty's Theatre. Since
that time he has conducted symphony concerts in Lon
don (1925), and Manchester, and has directed a Lon
don season of the D'Oyly Carte Opera Co. (1926).
He has conducted several series of children concerts
at Westminster.

SCHAXK, FRANZ, born, Vienna, May 27, 1863; died,
Vienna, September 3, 1931. After receiving a con-
ductorial training from Anton Bruckner, he became
a conductor at the Vienna Opera (1904), finally rising
to the position of principal conductor. From 1907 to
1911, he directed opera at Covent Garden, London,
and from 1914 until 1918 was associated with Richard
Strauss at the Imperial Opera in Vienna. Upon
Strauss* resignation in 1924, S chalk became the sole
director. He has also conducted the Vienna Philhar
monic, and for many years was associated with the
Salzburg Festival, of which he was one of the origi
nators.

SCHEEL, FKITZ, born, Liibeck, November 7, 1852 ; died,
Philadelphia, March 12, 1907. When he was seven
teen years old, he was engaged in orchestra work as
a concertmaster at Bremerhaven. In 1873, he began
directing summer concerts in Schwerin, and from 1890
to 1893 conducted orchestral concerts in Hamburg.

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

He came to America in 1893, and two years later
founded the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra which
lie directed for four years. In 1899, he conducted
summer concerts in Philadelphia with such success
that, the following year, he was appointed principal
conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra.

SCHEIXING, ERNEST, born, Belvedere, New Jersey, July
26, 1876. He has made guest-appearances with the
Philadelphia and the Boston Symphony Orchestras.
He has distinguished himself particularly with his
direction of the annual series of children's concerts
with the New York Philharmonic, the Philadelphia
and the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestras.

SCHEBCHEN, HERMANN, born, Berlin, June 21, 1891.
After conducting symphony concerts at Riga, he came
to Berlin in 1918 where he founded the Neue Musik-
gesellscha-ft. In 1921 he conducted the New Grotrian-
Steinweg Orchestra in Leipzig, and the following year
he was called to Frankfort to direct the museum con
certs. In 1928 he was appointed conductor of the
Philharmonic concerts in Kongsberg, and has since
conducted orchestral performances of the annual festi
val conducted by the International Society of Modern
Music. He has also inaugurated a school of conduct
ing which each year brings him to another principal
city, and which has increased his prestige immeasur
ably in the world of music.

SCHILLINGS, MAX VON, born, Diiren, April 19, 1868;
died, Berlin, July 24, 1933. In 1868 he served as
assistant stage director at Bayreuth, and by 1902 he
had risen to the position of chorus master. He went

341

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

to Stuttgart in 1908, where his conducting received
such acclaim that three years later he was appointed
general music director a post he held for seven years.
In 1919, he was called to Berlin to become general
director of the State Opera. When Hitler came to
power. Schillings was given the position of principal
conductor at Charlottenburg, which he held until his
death. He came to America in 1930 as a conductor
of the German Grand Opera Company.

SCHIOT>I,ER, KURT, born, Berlin, February 17, 1882.
In 1902, he conducted at the Stuttgart Opera, and
the following year he brought his baton to Wiirzburg.
Coming to America in 1905, he became assistant con
ductor at the Metropolitan Opera House for three
years. In 1909 he founded the Macdowell Chorus in
New York. Three years later, he became director of
the Schola Cantorum, New York, holding this posi
tion until 1926.

SCHNEEVOIGT, GEORGE, born, Viborg, November 8,
1872. For a short period he conducted at the Riga
Exposition. From 1904 until 1908 he was head of
the Kaim orchestra in Munich. In 1912 he was called
to Helsingfors to direct the Symphony Orchestra. In
1918 he founded the Philharmonic Orchestra of Osolo.
He came to America six years later as a guest-conduc
tor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and since that
time has directed the Los Angeles Philharmonic for
two seasons.

SEEDL, ANTON, born, Pesth, May 7, 1850; died, New
York, March 28, 1898. From 1879 until 1882 he
was conductor at the Leipzig Opera House. In 1882

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

he took a long tour through Europe as a conductor
of Angelo Neumann's opera troupe, in performances
of the Nibelungen Ring, and it was at this time that
he first came to the fore. For a short period in 1883
he conducted at the Bremen Opera House. Two years
later, he came to America to become principal German
fconductor at the Metropolitan Opera House. In 1891 5
he became conductor of the New York Philharmonic.
Shortly before his death he conducted opera at Covent
Garden in London, and at Bayreuth.

SsRAFm, TUIXIO, born, Cavarzere, Italy, September 8 5
1878. He made his debut at the Communale Theatre
in Ferrara in 1900. There followed several engage
ments as conductor in Turin (1903) at the Augusteo
in Rome (1906) and at the La Scala in Milan (1909).
After conducting opera in Buenos Aires, London and
Madrid, he came to New York in 1924 to become per
manent conductor at the Metropolitan Opera House.
He resigned this position in 1935, and returned to
Italy to be director at the Teatro Reale in Rome.

SEVITZKY, FASTEN, born, Wyshny, Russia, September
30, 1893. In 1914, his first appearance as conductor
took place with the Moscow Imperial Theatre Or
chestra. In 1925, he founded and conducted the Phil
adelphia Chamber Sinfonietta, which gave concerts of
music for chamber orchestra in principal cities in
America.

SHAVITCH, VLADIMIR, born, South America, July 20,
1888. After conducting the Rochester Philharmonic
for one year (1923), he was appointed conductor of
the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra. Five years later,

343

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

he received an appointment as conductor of the Mos
cow State Opera. He has been a guest conductor of
the London Symphony Orchestra, the Berlin Sym
phony Orchestra, and of principal orchestras in Paris,
Madrid, Moscow, Leningrad, Detroit, San Francisco
and Los Angeles.

SEZLKRET, NATHANIEL, born, New York, January *1,
1895. For fourteen years he has been musical direc
tor of the R.C.A. Victor Company. He created the
Victor Salon Orchestra which he has conducted for
many years in recordings of symphonic and popular
music. He has directed many popular radio broad
casts, and has made extensive recordings.

SiLosriMSKY, NICOLAS, born, Petrograd, April 15, 1894.
He has conducted the Boston Symphony Chamber Or
chestra with considerable success, and in recent years
has directed programs of modern American music in
Paris.

SMAIXENS, ALEXANDER, born, Petrograd, 1889. He
served a long apprenticeship as conductor of opera,
first as assistant conductor of the Boston Opera
(1911), and then as a principal conductor of the
Century Opera Company, the Colon Opera in Buenos
Aires and the National Theatre in Havana. From
1919 until 19S2 he was a conductor of the Chicago
Opera Company, where he conducted the world pre
miere of ProkofiejfPs Love Of Three Oranges at the
express request of the composer. After directing
operatic performances at the Volksoper and Staats-
oper in Berlin, and at the Royal Opera in Madrid, he
returned to America to be director at the Philadelphia

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

Civic Opera Company (1923-1930). During the
summer seasons of 1934 and 1935, he directed operatic
performances at the Lewisohn Stadium in New York.

SMITH, DAVID STANLEY, born, Toledo, July 6, 1877.
As dean of the music department of Yale University,
he organized the New Haven Symphony Orchestra
and has directed it for several years. He has been a
guest conductor of the New York Philharmonic, the
Cleveland and Detroit Symphony Orchestra in per
formances of his own music.

SODERO, CESARE, born, Naples, August 2, 1886. He
was an operatic conductor at the age of fourteen. At
maturity, he was appointed a guest-conductor at the
San Carlo Opera Company, and permanent conductor
with the Aborn English Opera. For six years, he
directed symphony concerts over the National Broad
casting Company.

SOKOLOFF, NIKOLAI, born, Kiev, May 28, 1886. As a
boy, he toured with the Municipal Orchestra of Kiev
as violinist. Coming to America in 1898, he joined
the violin section of the Boston Symphony Orchestra.
After returning to Europe for a period of musical
study, he assumed his first conductorial position when
he was called upon to direct the San Francisco Sym
phony Orchestra in 1916. In 1918 he organized the
Cleveland Symphony Orchestra, and remained its
principal conductor for more than ten years. In
1922, he was invited as the first American conductor
to direct the London Symphony Orchestra at the
National Welsh Festival. He has given guest per
formances with leading orchestras in England, Russia

345

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

and the United States. In 1930, he founded the New
York Orchestra which he has since been directing.

SPOHR, LUDWIG, born, Brunswick, April 5, 1784 ; died,
London, October 22, 1859. In 1809 he received his
first important assignment as conductor when he was
called to direct the first German festival at Franken-
hausen. From 1812 until 1815 he conducted perform
ances at the Theatre-an-der-Wien, and for the
following two years broadened his prestige by direct
ing concerts in Italy and Holland. After two years as
operatic conductor in Frankfort, he was invited as a
guest of the Royal Philharmonic where he made con-
ductorial history by directing performances with a
baton. Shortly before his death, he served as Kapell
meister at Kassel. (See pages 78-79) .

SPONTINI, GASPARO LUIGI, born, Jesi, November 14,
1774 ; died, Majolati, January 14, 1851. For a short
period, in 1800, he directed court performances at
Palermo. Then, after giving performances through
out Italy, he was called to Paris to conduct Italian
Opera at the Odeon, a position he held with great
distinction for two years (1810-1812). In 1820, he
was appointed Kapellmeister at Berlin, and after that
he conducted operatic performances in leading opera-
houses in Germany.

STAMITZ, JOHANN WENZEL ANTON, born, Deutschbrod,
June 19, 1717 ; died, Mannheim, March 27, 1757. In
1745 he was appointed conductor of the Mannheim
orchestra, and it was in this position that he not only
established the "Mannheim school of conducting" but
also developed his orchestra as one of the most tech-

346

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

nically perfect of the time. He toured throughout
Germany with the Mannheim Orchestra, and every
where created a sensation. (See pages 75-76).

STEINBACH, EMED, born, Lengenzieden, November 14,
1849 ; died, Mayence, December 6, 1919. From 1871
until 1874 he was assistant conductor in Mannheim.
In 1877 he became first Kapellmeister at Mayence.
As conductor of Wagnerian Opera at Covent Garden,
London, in 1893 he established his reputation as an
important operatic conductor.

STEINBACH, FRITZ, born, Griinsfeld, June 17, 1885;
died, Munich, August 13, 1916. From 1880 until
1886, he was assistant conductor at Mayence. Reveal
ing unmistakable talents in this direction, he was
appointed conductor of the Meiningen Orchestra,
where he acquired a great reputation, particularly
after extensive tours with the orchestra. From 1902
unitl 1914, he was conductor of the Giirzenich con
certs.

STIEDRY, FRITZ, born, Vienna, October 11, 1883. After
a short period as conductor in Dresden (1907) he
accepted important engagements in Teplitz, Posen
and Prague. In 1914 he became conductor of the
Berlin State Opera. Ten years later, he succeeded
Weingartner as director of the Vienna State Opera.
In 1928, he returned to the Berlin State Opera where
he has remained ever since.

STOCK, FREDERICK, born, Jiilich, November 11, 1872.
In 1900 he became an assistant to Theodore Thomas
with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Upon
Thomas' death in 1905 Stock was appointed principal

347

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

conductor, and he has held this position since that time
with constantly increasing prestige. In 1929, he
directed the Cincinnati May Festival, and the follow
ing year he was called upon to direct the North Shore
Festival in Evanston. He has been a guest conductor
of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. (See page
57).

STOESSEI/, ALBERT, born, St. Louis, October 11, 1894.
During the World War, he served as bandmaster.
After the War, he became assistant conductor of the
Oratorio Society of New York, rising to full conduc-
torship in 1921. He has more recently conducted
operatic performances at the Juilliard School of
Music in New York.

STOKOWSKI, LEOPOLD* (See pages 197-226).

STKANSKY, JOSEF, born, Bohemia, September 9, 1872.
In 1898, he directed performances of German Opera
in Prague, and in 1903 at the Hamburg Opera. In
1909, he turned to symphonic music, first conducting
the Bliithner Orchestra in Berlin and then, the follow
ing year, the Musikfreunde concerts in Dresden. He
came to America in 1911 to become principal con
ductor of the New York Philharmonic, remaining in
this position until 1923 when he retired from all
musical activity.

STBARAM, WALTER, born, London, July 9, 1876; died,
Paris, November 24, 1933. In 1909 he was assistant
conductor of the Manhattan Opera Company. Re
turning to Paris, he founded the Walter Straram
concerts which he directed with great success until his
death.

348

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

STRAUSS, RICHARD, born, Munich, June 11, 1864, world-
famous composer, equally eminent as conductor. Af
ter being an assistant to Hans von Billow at
Meiningen, he became Kapellmeister in 1886. From
1889 until 1894 he occupied a similar post at Weimar,
resigning in order to accept the much more significant
position of court-director at Munich. In the Summer
of 1894, he conducted several performances at Bay-
reuth, and the following year replaced Hans von
Billow as director of the Berlin Philharmonic. In
1898 he became principal conductor of the Berlin
Opera, rising to the post of general director in 1908.
From 1919 until 1924, he conducted at the Vienna
State Opera. Since that time he has been a guest-
conductor to opera-houses in Munich, Berlin, Vienna
and Bayreuth, distinguishing himself particularly
with his remarkable performances of Mozart.

STUCKEIT, FRANK VAK DER, born, Fredricksburg, Texas,
October 15, 1858. After intensive European study,
he became Kapellmeister of the Stadttheater in Bres-
lau in 1881. Returning to America, he directed the
Arion chorus of New York in 1884, and three years
later directed symphony concerts at Steinway Hall.
From 1895 until 1907 he was conductor of the Cin
cinnati Symphony Orchestra.

TAFPANEI,, CLAUDE PAUL, born, Bordeaux, September
16, 1844; died, Paris, November 22, 1908. In 1892
he became conductor at the Opera, and in the same
year became director of the Conservatory concerts a
position he held with great esteem until his death.

TCHEREPNINE, NIKOLAI, born, Petrograd, May 15,

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

1873. After directing opera at the Marinsky Theatre
in Moscow, he came to Paris to conduct at the Opera
Comique, where he introduced Rimsky-Korsakoff's
Snow Maiden. From 1909 until 1919, he was prin
cipal conductor of the Diaghilev Ballet.

THOMAS, THEODORE. (See pages 53-57).

TOSCANINI, ARTTTRO* (See pages 169-196).

VERBUGGHEN, HENRI, born, Brussels, August 1, 1874;
died, United States, 1934. Before coming to America,
he served as an assistant conductor of the Scottish
Orchestra (1903) and as conductor of the Choral
Union of Glasgow (1911). He came to America in
1922, when he became conductor of the Minneapolis
Symphony Orchestra, and founded the Minneapolis
Chorus. He has directed Beethoven and Brahms fes
tivals in London, and has made successful guest-
appearances in Brussels, Munich, Berlin and Russia.

WAGNER, RICHAUD, born, Leipzig, May 22, 1813 ; died,
Venice, Febraury 13, 1883, one of the world's greatest
composers, who has likewise earned a permanent place
in conductorial history. In 1833, he served as chorus-
master at the Wiirzburg Theatre, and for the follow
ing three years he directed performances at the
Magdeburg Theatre. From 1836 until 1839 he di
rected symphony concerts at Konigsberg and at the
Riga Theatre, attracting considerable attention be
cause of the authority and strength of his perform
ances. For a short period he was Kapellmeister at
Dresden (1842), directing symphony and choral con
certs and distinguishing himself particularly with his
interpretation of Beethoven. In 1855, he was invited

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BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

to direct concerts of the London Philharmonic, and
five years later he gave guest performances in Paris,
Brussels, Vienna, Prague and Russia. In 1864, he
assumed the position of director of the Munich Opera.
(See pages 84-85).

WAGNER, SIEGFRIED, born, Triebschen, June 6, 1869;
died, Bayreuth, August 1930. For a short period, in
1893, he directed concerts of symphonic music. Then,
after serving as an assistant conductor at Bayreuth
(1894), he rose to the ranks of principal conductor,
and from 1896 until his death in 1930 he was one of
the important conductors of the annual Wagnerian
festival.

WALLENSTEIN, ALFRED, born, Chicago, October 7, 1898.
After studying the violoncello in Leipzig under Julius
Klengel, he returned to America in 1914 to become
violoncellist in the San Francisco Symphony Orches
tra. There followed a long and successful career as
orchestra performer which brought him to the Chicago
Symphony Orchestra (1920-1928) and, finally, to the
New York Philharmonic. Recently he has turned to
the baton, directing weekly symphonic concerts over
the radio (W.O.R.) and giving guest performances
with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. In 1935, he was
appointed music director of radio station W.O.R.

WALTER, BRUNO, (See pages 258-264).

WEINGARTNER, FELIX. (See pages 160-166).

WEISBACH, HANS, born, Germany, July 19, 1885* In
1911, he officiated as assistant conductor of the RuJil-
schen Gesangverem in Frankfort. Eight years later
he was appointed music director in Hagen. In 1924,

351

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

he became director of the Konzertgesellschaft and the
Stadt Singverein in Barmen. In 1926, he became
musical director of Diisseldorf, and one year later he
was appointed first conductor of opera in that city.

WOIXE, JOHN FREDERIC, born, Bethlehem, Pennsyl
vania, April 4, 1863; died, Pennsylvania, 1932.
From 1905 until 1907, he conducted symphony and
choral concerts at Berkeley, California. In 1911 he
began to conduct choral societies in and near Bethle
hem, and it was as a result of these efforts that he
succeeded in establishing the Bethlehem Bach Choir
which acquired a national reputation by virtue of its
annual Bach festival. Wolle also toured to Philadel
phia and New York with his Bach Choir.

WOOD, SIR HENRY JOSEPH. (See pages 44-45) .

YSAYE, EUGENE, born, Liege, July 16, 1858 ; died, Brus
sels, May 14, 1931, one of the foremost violin vir
tuosos of his time,, and celebrated as a conductor. In
1894, he founded the Societe des Concerts Ysaye in
Brussels which he conducted for several years with
distinction. In 1918, he gave several guest-perform
ances with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra and
was so successful that he was immediately appointed
permanent conductor. He held this position until
1922.

ZASLAWSKY, GEORGES. In 1920, he gave guest perform
ances in Berlin, Paris, Prague and Buenos Aires cre
ating a favorable impression. He came to New York
in 1926 and gave a special concert with the New York
Philharmonic. In 1927, he founded the short-lived
Beethoven Symphony Orchestra which he conducted

352

BIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE

until its demise. Since that time he has been conduct
ing concerts in Europe, principally in Vienna.
ZEMUNSKY, ALEXANDER VON, born, Vienna, October 4,
1872. After conducting operatic performances at the
Karl Theatre in Vienna (1900) , he was appointed first
conductor of the Vienna Volksoper (1906), and then
principal conductor of the Vienna Hofoper (1908).
In 1909 he went to Mannheim, and three years later
was given the principal conductorial post in Prague.
In 1927, he became first conductor of the Berlin State
Opera, holding that position until political develop
ments in Germany, as a result of Hitler's ascent to
power, compelled him to resign.

353

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY
I.

THE HISTORY OF CONDUCTING

CHYBINSKI, ADOLF, Beitrage zur Geschichte des Takt-
schalgens. Leipzig. Breitkopf und Hartel. 1912.

DANDELOT, ARTHUR, La societe des concerts du Conser
vatoire. Paris. G. Harvard fils. 1898.

DORFFEL, A., Geschichte der GewandhausTconzerte.
Leipzig. Concert direction. 1884.

FOSTER, M. B., History of the Philharmonic Society of
London. London. John Lane. 191.

HOGARTH, GEORGE, The Philharmonic Society of Lon
don. London. Bradbury and Evans. 1862.

HUNEKER, JAMES GIBBONS, The Philharmonic Society
of New Tori;. New York. The Philharmonic So
ciety. 1917.

LINNEMANN, RICHARD, Der 150 Jahre Leipziger Ge~
wandhaus. Leipzig. Brandstetter. 1931.

LOBMANN, HUGO, Zur Geschichte des Taktierens und
Dirigirens. Dtisseldorf. L. Schwann. 1913.

NEWMARCH, ROSA, Quarter of a Century of Promenade
Concerts. London. 1920.

SCHUNEMANN, GEORG, Geschichte des Dirigirens. Leip
zig. Breitkopf und Hartel. 1913.

SCHWARTZ, RUDOLPH, Zur Geschichte des TaJctschlag-
ens. Leipzig. Jahrbuch Peters. 1908.

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THE MAN WITH THE BATON

VOGX, EMEL, Zur Geschichte des TaTctschlagens. Leip
zig. Jahrbuch Peters. 1899.

II.

TECHNIQUE OF CONDUCTING ; THE ORCHESTRA;
INSTRUMENTATION, ETC.

BACHRACH, A. L., The Musical Companion. London.
Victor Gollancz. 1934.

BERG, DAVID ERIC, Early and Classic Symphonies and
the Functions of a Conductor. New York. Caxton
Press. 1927.

BERLIOZ, HECTOR, Art of Conducting. New York. Carl
Fischer. 1926.

, Treatise on Modern Instrumentation. London.

Novello, Ewer and Co. 1882.

COERNE, Louis AJDOUPHE, Evolution of Modern Orches
tration. New York. Macmillan. 1908.

COIXES, H. C., Symphony and Drama: 1850-1900 (Ox
ford History of Music, vol. 7). London. Oxford
University Press. 1934.

GEHRKENS, K. W., Essentials in Conducting. Boston.
Oliver Ditson. 1919.

PEMBAUER, JOSEF, Uber das Dirigiren. Leipzig.
F.E.C. Leuckart. 1907.

SAMINSKY, LAZARE, Music of Our Day. New York.
Thos, Y, Crowell Company. 1932.

SCHERCHEN, HERMANN, Treatise on Conducting. Lon
don. Oxford University Press. 1934,

WAGNER, RICHARD, On Conducting. London. William
Reeves. 1897.

358

BIBLIOGRAPHY

WEINGARTNER, FELIX, On Conducting. London. B.
andH. 1906.

III.

CONDUCTORS

ALDRICH, RICHARD, Musical Discourses. London. Ox
ford University Press. 1928.

APTHORP, W. F., Conductors and Conducting. New
York. Scribner's. 1895.

BERLIOZ, HECTOR, Memoirs. New York. A. A. Knopf.
1932.

BTJLOW, MARIE VON, Hans von Billow in Leben und
Wort. Stuttgart. 3. Engelhorns. 1925.

CHEVALLEY, HEINRICH, Artur Nikisch: Leben und
WirJcen. Berlin. H. Behrens. 1922.

COWEN, SIR FREDERIC H., My Art and Friends. Lon
don. Edward Arnold. 1913.

CROGER, THOMAS R., Notes on Conductors and Con
ducting. London. W. Reeves. 1904.

DAMROSCH, WALTER, My Musical Life. New York.
Scribner's. 1926.

DER MOULIN ECKART, RICHARD MARIA FERDINAND,
GRAF, Hans von Billow. Munich. Rosel und Cie.
1921.

DETTE, ARTHUR, Artur Nikisch. Leipzig. Joachim.
1922.

ENGEL, GABRIEL, Gustav Mahler. Bruckner Society of
America. 1932.

FULLER-MAITLAND, J. A., The Consort of Music. Lon
don. Oxford University Press. 1915.

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GREW, SIDNEY, Favorite Musical Performers. London.

T.N. Foulis. 1923.
HADDEN, J. CUTHBERT, Conductors and Conducting.

London. T. N. Foulis. 1924.
5 Modern Musicians. London. T. N. Foulis.

1914.

HENSCHEL, SIR GEORG, Musings and Memories. Lon
don. Macmillan. 1918.
KRAUSS, EMIL, Weingartner als Schaffen der Kiinstler.

Berlin. Gose und Tetzlaff . 1904.

KREBS, KARL, Meister der TaJctstocJcs. Berlin. Schus
ter und Loeffler. 1902.
LASER, ARTHUR, Der Moderne Dirigent. Leipzig.

Breitkopf und Hartel. 1904.
LITTLEHALES, LILLIAN, Pablo Casals. New York. W.

W.Norton. 1929.
LouRiii;, ARTHUR, Serge Koussevitzky and His Epoch.

New York. A.A.Knopf. 1931.
NEWMARCH, ROSA, Sir Henry J. Wood. London. John

Lane. 1904.
NICOTRA, TOBIAS, Arturo Toscanini. New York. A. A.

Knopf. 1929.
PARKER, HENRY TAYLOR, Eighth Notes. New York.

DoddMead. 1922.
PRUNI&RES, HENRI, La vie illustrS et libertine de Jean-

Baptiste Lully. Paris. Librarie Plon. 1909.
RIESENFELD, PAUL, Felix Weingartner. Breslau. Schel-

sische Verlag. 1906.
RUSSELL, CHARLES EDWARD, The American Orchestra

and Theodore Thomas. New York. Doubleday, Page.

1927.

360

BIBLIOGRAPHY

OCTAVE, Musiciens franpais d'aujourd *hui. Paris.
Mercure de France. 1921.

SOLLITT, EDNA NICHOLSON, Mengelberg and the Sym
phonic Epoch. New York. Ives Washburn. 1930.

SORBET, DOMINIQUE, Douze chefs d'orchestre. Paris.
Fischbacher. 1924.

SPECHT, RICHARD, Wilhelm Furtwdngler. Vienna.
WILA. 1925.

, Gustav Mahler. Berlin. Schuster und Loeffler.

1918.

SPOHR, Louis, Autobiography. London. Longmans,
Green. 1865.

STANFORD, SIR CHARLES VILLIERS, Interludes, Records
and Reflections. London. John and Murray. 1922.

STEFAN, PAUL, Gustav Mahler. New York. G. Schir-
mer. 1913.

STEINER, A., Hans von Bulow. Zurich. Hug. 1906.

THOMAS, THEODORE, A Musical Autobiography. Chi
cago. A. C. McClurg. 1905.

WEINGARTNER, FELIX, Leltenserrinerungen. Vienna.
WILA. 1923.

WEISSMAN, ADOLF, Der Dirigent im XX Jahrhundert.
Berlin. Propylaen. 1925.

WHELBOURN, HUBERT, Celebrated Musicians, Past and
Present. London. T. Werner Laurie. 1930.

IV.

DICTIONARIES, ETC.

EINSTEIN, ALFRED, Das neue Musikleccikon. Berlin.
MaxHesser. 1926.

361

THE MAN WITH THE BATON

GROVE, GEORGE, Dictionary of Music and Musicians.
New York. MacmiUan Co. 1934.

HULL, ARTHUR EAGLEFEELD, Dictionary of Modern
Music and Musicians. New York. E. P. Button.
1924.

KEY, PIERRE, Who's Who in Music. New York. Pierre
Key. 1931.

PRATT, W. S., New Encyclopedia. New York. Mac-
millan. 1934.

RIEMANN, HUGO, MusiTdexikon (llth edition). Leip
zig. M. Hesse. 1929.

V.

MUSIC MAGAZINES

Allgemeine Musikzeitung.

Chesterian.

Disques.

Monthly Musical Record.

Music and Letters.

Musical America.

Musical Courier.

Musical Record.

Musical Standard.

Musical Times.

Musical Quarterly.

Die Musik.

MusiJcblatter des Anbruch.

La Revue Musicale.

SacJcbut.

Zeitschrift fur Musik.

362

INDEX

INDEX

Abendroth, Hermann, 295.
Accidentals, elimination of, 28.
Albrecht, Karl, 295.
Alfano, Franco, 182.
America, outstanding orchestras,

51-67.

Ansermet, Ernest, 44, 295.
Arb<5s, Enrique Ferndndez, 46,

253, 254; biography, 296.

B. B. C. Symphony Orchestra,
London, 45.

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 39; use
of string instruments, 36; as
conductor, 72, 75; Branden
burg Concerto, 73; Stokowski's
transcriptions of, 203, 223.

Bach, Philip Emanuel, on time-
beating, 72.

Bahr, Johann, 70.

Balance, problem of, 105.

Bamboscheck, Giuseppe, 296.

Barlow, Howard, 297.

Barrere, Georges, 297.

Barzin, Leon, 277, 297.

Bass-clarinet, 27, 37.

Bass-drum, 31, 37.

Bass-tuba, 30.

Bassoon, 28.

Baton, use of; history, 77, 83;
technique, 83, 103; gesturing
with, 282.

Bayreuth, first festival inaug
urated by Hans Richter, 117;
Dr. Muck's performances, 158;
Toscanini's, 173, 187, 194.

Beecham, Sir Thomas, 44, 221,
253; appraisal of, 257; ges
tures, 284, 291; biography, 297,

Beethoven, Ludwig van, instru
ments employed by, 26, 28, 80,

31, 36; development of or
chestra, 36; relations with
Royal Philharmonic Society:
sale of Ninth Symphony, 43;
its first performance, 43, 76;
reputation as conductor, 74;
von Billow's performance of 5
116.

Bekker's Dictionary, cited, 103n.

Bells, 32.

Benedict, Sir Julius, 298.

Bennett, Sir William Sterndale,
44; biography, 298.

Bergmann, Carl, 52, 55; biog
raphy, 299.

Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra,
50.

Berlioz, Hector Louis, treatise on
instrumentation, 34, 83 ; as con
ductor, 84, 85; biography, 299;
mentioned, 37, 38, 49, 82, 100.

Bibliography, 357-362.

Biographical guide to conduc
tors, 295-353.

Black, Frank, 300.

Blech, Leo, 300.

Bodanzky, Artur, 267; his New
Symphony Orchestra, 56, 243,
244; appraisal of, 99; biog
raphy, 300.

Boehm action in woodwinds, 38.

Book list, 357-362.

Boston Symphony Orchestra, 57-
59; conducted by Nikisch, 134;
by Karl Muck, 148, 150, 155;
plight during years after
World War, 227; under leader
ship of Serge Koussevitzky,
227, 236-240, 242.

Boult, Sir Adrian Cedric, 283,
301; on Nikisch, 128.

365

INDEX

Brahms, Johannes, von Billow's
eulogy, 115; tradition for per
formance of music of, 116; re
bukes Hans Richter, 121; in
fluence upon Nikisch, 129, 132,
139.

Brass instruments, 29, 37.

Brico, Antonia, 277, 301.

Broadcasting, Stokowski's ex
periments, 197, 207.

Billow, Hans von, 85; quoted,
86; career and methods, 111-
116; associations with Wein-
gartner, 161.

Busch, Fritz, 253, 257; biog
raphy, 302.

Busser, Henri Paul, 302.

Cameron, Basil, 303.
Campanini, Cleofante, 303.
Casals, Pablo, 303; quoted, 92.
Casella, Alfredo, 304.
Castanets, 31.
Cavaliere, instruments employed

by, 34.
Celeste, 31.
Chavez, Carlos, 304.
Chevillard, Camille, 50, 304.
Chicago Symphony Orchestra, 56-

57.

Child-prodigies, 87, 128.
Chimes, 32.

Chorley, H. F., quoted, 82.
Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra,

60, 114n, 256; conducted by

Stokowski, 211.
Clarinet, 27, 87.
Clavier, time-beating with, 72.
dementi, Muzio, 41.
Coates, Albert, 44, 77n, 253;

biography, 805.
Code of conduct for conductors,

74.

Colles, H. C., quoted, 38.
Collingwood, Lawrence, 305.
Colonne, Edouard, 48, 305.
Colors, Stokowskl's experiments

with, 208.

Concertgebow Orchestra, 243,
249.

Concertmaster, 24 ; dispensed
with, by Stokowski, 209.

Concerts du Chdtelet, 48.

Concerts du Conservatoire, 46.

Concerts Golschmann, Paris, 256.

Concerts Koussevitzky, 235.

Concerts Populaires, 48.

Conducting, art of, 13-19, 23,
106; in nineteenth century and
today, 17; development of the
art, 68-86; artistic liberation,
84; what conducting is, 87-107.

Conductor, art of interpretation,
14-19; technique, 17, 92, 101-
106; exponents of modern
music, 47, 54, 62, 66, 212, 220,
264; preeminent Wagnerites,
50, 55, 63, 65, 98, 99, 117, 129,
149, 158, 173, 187, 194; as time-
beater, 69-73; personal ele
ment; tempers and whims;
code of conduct for, 74;
eighteenth-century standards,
76; growing importance and
prestige, 77; use of baton, 77,
83, 108, 282; present-day types,
80; exhibitionists, 80, 113, 198,
205, 211, 279-292; child-prodi
gies, 87; demands upon con
ductor, 89; methods, 89-92; re
lationship with men of orches
tra, 89, 112, 119, 123, 140, 144,
164, 185, 191, 195, 204, 221, 245,
251; methods during rehears
als, 91, 124, 138, 140, 144, 146,
164, 184, 189, 195, 217, 220,
237, 246, 251; necessary quali
fications, 98-100; conducting
from memory, 96, 112, 114, 121,
138, 185, 177, 205, 285-289;
tempo and rhythm, 101; ges
turing, 104, 282-285; balance,
105 ; world-famous leaders,
Hans von Billow, 111; Hans
Richter, 117; Gustav Mahler,
122; Artur Nikisch, 127; Dr.

366

INDEX

Karl Muck, 143; Felix Wein-
gartner, 160; Arturo Toscanini,
169; Leopold Stokowski, 197;
Serge Koussevitzky, 227; atti
tude towards adherence to
score, 112, 114, 115, 125, 147,
161, 166, 181, 290-292; speech-
makers, 114, 212, 221, 251;
victim of American war hys
teria, 150-158 ; guest-conduc
tor vogue, 241; distinguished
guests, 243-269; promising
younger men, 270-278; women
conductors, 277; biographical
guide, 295-353; bibliography,
359.

Conservatory, Paris, 46.

Contra-bassoon, 28, 37.

Cooper, Emil, 306.

Coppola, Piero, 306.

Corset, conductor's use of, 281.

Cortot, Alfred, 306.

Costa, Michael, 44, 82.

Cowen, Sir Frederic Hymen, 44,
307; quoted, 23.

Crankshaw, Edward, quoted, 285.

Cymbal, 31, 37.

Damrosch, Leopold, 52, 63-65, 85;
biography, 307.

Damrosch, Walter Johannes, ap
praisal of, as conductor, 60;
influence in America, 62, 66;
early life, 63; musical activi
ties, 65-67; discloses secret of
conducting, 68 ; mentioned, 221,
244, 247, 259.

De Fauw, Desire, 308.

De Lamarter, Eric, 308.

De Sabata, Victor, 308.

Dessoff, Felix Otto, 129, 308.

Dessoff, Marguerite, 277, 309.

Dictionaries, etc., 361.

D'Indy, Vincent, 107.

Dobrowen, Issai, 253, 254; biog
raphy, 809.

Dohnanyi, Ernst von, 309.

Doles, Johann Friederich, 89.

Double-bass, 24, 37.
Drums, 31, 37.

Ear, keen, of conductor, 96.
Egyptian time-beaters, 70.
Eicheim, Henry, 221.
Elgar, Sir Edward, 44.
Elmendorff, Karl von, 309.
"Enemy alien" charge against

Karl Muck, 156.
English horn, 27, 37.
Ether music, 209.
Etienne, D., 52.
Exhibitionism, 80, 113, 198, 205,

211, 279-292.

Fascist hymn, Toscanini's refusal
to perform, 154n.

Fay, Charles Norman, 56.

Ferrero, Willy, 88.

Fiedler, Arthur, 310.

Fiedler, August Max, 310.

First-desk man, 24.

Fitelberg, Gregory, 310.

Flute, 26.

Foerster, J. B., quoted, 123.

Fradkin, Frederic, 59.

Franck, C6sar, instruments em
ployed by, 25, 27.

French horn, 29.

Fridberg Franz, on Hans Rich-
ter, 118n.

Fried, Oskar, 253, 257; biogra
phy, 311.

Furtwangler, Wilhelm, method
with orchestra, 91; genius of,
264; with New York Philhar
monic, 265; career in Germany,
267; mentioned, 41, 44, 50, 51,
56, 67, 285.

Gabrilowitsch, Ossip, 311.
Ganz, Rudolph, 311.
Gaubert, Philippe, 46, 47; biog
raphy, 312.

Gericke, Wilhelm, 58, 149; biog
raphy, 312.

367

INDEX

German conductors, antagonism
towards, 150-158, 259.

Germany, treatment of musi
cians, 268.

Gessner, cited, 75.

Gestures, 104, 282-285.

Gevaert, treatise on instrumenta
tion, 34.

Gewandhaus Orchestra, Leipzig,
39-41, 134, 261, 267.

Girard, Narcisse, 47, 312.

Glockenspiel, 31.

Gluck, Christoph Willibald, 74.

Godfrey, Sir Dan, 313.

Golschmann, Vladimir, 263, 256,
313.

Gong, 31.

Goossens, Eugene, 46, 60, 114n,
256; biography, 313.

Gossec, Francois Joseph, 314.

Greek time-beaters, 70.

Orosse Concert, das, Leipzig, 39.

Guest conductors, vogue for, 241;
distinguished guests, 243-269.

Gui, Vittorio, 314.

Habeneck, Francois Antoine, 46,
84, 314.

Hadley, Henry Kimball, 315.

Hageman, Richard, 315.

Hall6, Sir Charles, 315.

Hamburg Symphony Orchestra,
158.

Handel, George Frederick, 72,
73, 74; use of string instru
ments, 86.

Hanson, Howard, 316.

Harmati, Sandor, 316.

Harp, 25.

Harpsichord, time-beating with,
72, 73.

Harrison, Julius Allen Green-
way, 816.

Harty, Sir Herbert Hamilton,
46, 317.

Hasse, Adolphe, 72.

Hasslemans, Louis, 817.

Haydn, Franz Joseph, instru
ments used in performing, 25;
orchestra in time of, 36; Sto-
kowski's reaction to, 218.

Heger, Robert, 317.

Heifetz, Jascha, 87.

Heifetz, Margaret, 88.

Henschel, Sir Isidor George, 68,
318.

Hertz, Alfred, 318.

Higginson, Henry Lee, estab
lishes Boston Symphony, 58;
relations with Karl Muck, 148,
153n, 154, 155.

Hill, U. C., 52.

Killer, Johann Adam, 39, 319.

Hindemith, Paul, Mathis der
Maler, 269.

Hitler government, treatment of
musicians, 268.

Hoesslin, Franz von, 319.

Hofmann, Josef, 87.

Hogarth, George, quoted, 42.

Hoogstraten, "Willem van, 253,
319.

Horenstein, Jascha, 320.

Horn, English, 27, 87; French,
29.

Hrdliczka, Gertrud, 278.

Huneker, James Gibbons, 61.

Instrumental style established,
85.

Instruments, orchestral, 23-39 ;
strings, 24, 85; woodwinds, 25,
38; brasses, 29, 87; percussion
instruments, 80, 87; of foreign
countries, 81; other instru
ments, 82; in earliest orches
tras, 84 ; used for time-beating,
72; conductor's knowledge of,
93, H8n; Stokowski's experi
ments with, 209.

Interpretation, art of, 13-19, 23,
106; in nineteenth century and
today, 17; see also Conducting.

Iturbl, Jose", 273, 320.

868

INDEX

James, Philip, 320.
Janssen, Werner, 271-273, 320.
Joachim, Joseph, 50.
Jullien, Louis Antoine, a bizarre
conductor, 80-82.

Ka janus, Robert, 321.

Kettledrum, 30.

Kindler, Hans, 321.

Kleiber, Erich, 242, 253, 256, 264;
biography, 321.

Klemperer, Otto, career in Amer
ica, 242, 258; early years, 260;
appraisal of, 261; mentioned,
73, 268, 292.

Klenau, Paul von, 44, 321.

Klindworth, Karl, 50, 322.

Knappertsbusch, Hans, 322.

Knoch, Ernest, 322.

Kolar, Victor, 323.

Koussevitzky, Serge, as conduc
tor of Boston Symphony, 59,
227, 236; method with orches
tra, 92; early years in Russia,
230; tours with his own orches
tra, 233; fame: in Paris, 235;
charaeteristics, 236; appraisal
of, 238; mentioned, 46, 104,
288.

Krauss, Clemens, 51, 160, 253,
255; biography, 323.

Krehbiel, Henry E., quoted, 59,
280.

Kreisler, Fritz, 153n.

Kreutzer, 73.

Krips, Josef, 823.

LamoureuXj Charles, 49, 824.
Lamoureux concerts, 49.
Lange, Hans, 275, 324.
La Scala Opera, 172.
Leginska, Ethel, 277, 324.
Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra,

39-41, 134, 261, 267.
Leipzig Opera, 130, 132.
Levi, Hermann, 85, 825.
Levin, Sylvan, 276, 825.

Liszt, Franz, as conductor, 84,
85; relations with Nikisch, 127,
129, 139; and Weingartner,
161; biography, 325.

London, B.B.C. Symphony Or
chestra, 45.

London, Queen's Hall Orchestra,
44.

London, Royal Philharmonic So
ciety, 23, 41-44, 78, 83, 163.

London Daily Telegraph^ ex
cerpt, 120.

London Symphony Orchestra, 45,
135; Richter concerts, 120, 121.

Los Angeles Philharmonic, 260.

Los Angeles Symphony Orches
tra, 276.

Lourie", Arthur, 234.

Luftpausen, 115.

Lully, Jean Baptiste, 35, 71, 74,
326.

Maganini, Quinto, 326.

Magazines, music, 362.

Mahler, Gustav, career and meth
ods, 122-126; Eighth Sym
phony, 206, 214; influence upon
Bruno Walter and Otto Klem-
perer, 260; mentioned, 32, 51,
56, 85, 92, 193.

Maine, Basil, quoted, 284.

Mdnnergesangverein Arion, New
York, 64.

Mannes, David, 326.

Mannheim orchestra, 76.

Manning, Dr., 156.

Manns, Sir August Friedrich,
327.

Marinuzzi, Guiseppe Gino, 327.

Mascagni, Pietro, 327.

Meiningen Orchestra, 111, 112.

Memory, conducting from, 96;
memory-feats of conductors,
112, 114, 121, 133, 135, 177,
205; fad for, 285-289,

Mendelssohn, Felix Bartholdy,
instruments employed by, 37,
39; as conductor of Gewand-

369

INDEX

haus Orchestra, 40, 79; guest-
conductor of Royal Philhar
monic, 44; use of baton, 78;
biography, 328.

Mengelberg, Willem, establishes
fad of guest-conductor, 243;
de"but in New York, 244; be
comes reigning idol, 245 ; meth
ods, 246, 251; influence, 247;
qualities appraised, 249; loss
of prestige, 250; biography,
328; mentioned, 25, 44 5 51, 56,
67, 73, 291.

Menuhin, Yehudi, 87.

Messager, Andre Charles, 47,
329.

Messen, Heinrich von, 77.

Messner, Joseph, 329.

Methods of conductors, 89-92.

Metropolitan Opera House, New
York, German opera, 63, 65,
99; Toscanini as director, 173.

Meyerbeer, Giacomo, 37.

Miguez, Leopoldo di, 169.

Minneapolis Symphony Orches
tra, 275.

Modern music, exponents of, 47,
54, 62, 66, 212, 220, 264.

Molinari, Bernardino, 253, 254;
biography, 329.

Monteux, Pierre, 58, 199, 227,
230; biography, 330.

Monteverde, Claudio, 34-85.

Morike, Eduard, 330.

Moscow, Koussevitzky concerts,
233.

Mottl, Felix, 85, 330; relationship
with orchestra, 90.

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 89;
instruments used in perform
ing, 25; orchestra in time of,
86; a child-prodigy, 87; inter
pretation of, 97, 98; Stokow-
skfs reaction to, 218.

Muck, Karl, as conductor of Bos
ton Symphony, 58, 148, 149;
compared with Nikisch, 143;
appraisal of: method, 144-148;

European career, 148, 158;
victim of American war hys
teria, 150-156; imprisonment
and deportation, 157; men
tioned, 51, 92, 101, 104, 164,
173, 249, 284.

Musical Quarterly, excerpt, 165.

Musical score, see Score.

Musikalisches Lexikon, cited, 84.

National anthems, refusals to
perform, 153, 154n.

National Orchestra Society, 277.

Naumann, Emil, cited, 77.

Nazi government, treatment of
musicians, 268.

New Symphony Orchestra, New
York, 244; merged with New
York Philharmonic, 56, 248;
under Mengelberg's leadership,
243; founded, 301.

New York, Metropolitan Opera
House, 63, 65, 99, 173.

New York, Oratorio Society, 63,
65.

New York, orchestras, 51-56, 63,
65-67, 248, 301.

New York Philharmonic Orches
tra, 51-56, 244.

New York Philharmonic Sym
phony Society, instruments in
orchestra, 25; merger of or
chestras, 56, 248; I>amrosch j s
appearances with, 67; guest-*
conductors, 242, 243, 253, 260;
Mengelberg's influence, 248 ;
Bruno Walter and Otto Klem-
perer, 260; younger conduc
tors, 271, 275.

New York Symphony Society,
52, 63, 65, 67, 244; merged with
New York Philharmonic, 56,
248; guest-conductors, 243,
253, 258.

Newman, Angelo, 129, 130, 149.

Newman, Ernest, on Kousse-
vitzky, 239.

Newman, Robert, 45.

370

INDEX

Nicolai, Otto, 51.

Nikisch, Artur, conducts Ge-
wandhaus Orchestra, 41, 134;
quoted, 69; relationship with
orchestra, 90, 91; standing:
personality, 127, 132; early
years, 128-131; showmanship,
132; in America, 134, 135;
adulation of, 135; appraisal of,
136, 139; method, 138; tact:
treatment of players, 140; Karl
Muck compared with, 143; in
fluence upon Stokowski, 198;
Furtwangler made successor
to, 267; restraint in motions,
283; mentioned, 44, 46, 50, 58,
164, 173.

NQUVBUX concerts, 49.

Oboe, 26.

Oratorio Society of New York,
63, 65.

Orchesterverein of Breslau, 63.

Orchestra, perfected by Wagner
and Berlioz, 84; see also Sym
phony-orchestra.

Orchestra, men of, see Players.

Organ in orchestra, 32.

Oriental music, Stokowski's in
terest in, 206, 209.

Ormandy, Eugene, 274, 331.

Oxford History of Music, ex
cerpt, 38.

Pachmann, Vladimir de, 174.
Panizza, Ettore, 831.
Papi, Gennaro, 331.
Paray, Paul, 49, 282, 332.
Paris, orchestras, 46-50, 235, 256.
Pasdeloup, Jules Etienne, 47, 332.
Pasdeloup concerts, 47.
Pater, Walter, quoted, 164.
Paumgartner, Bernard, 332.
Paur, Emil, 55, 129; biography,

332.

Percussion instruments, 80, 37.
Peri, instruments employed by, 34.
Peyser, Herbert F., 158,

Pfitzner, Hans, 333.
Philadelphia Symphony Orches
tra, 59, 199, 274; greatness un
der Stokowski, 201 ; salary paid
him, 214; recent friction, 215.

Philharmonic Orchestra, Berlin,
50.

Philharmonic Orchestra, Vienna,
51, 163.

Philharmonic orchestras, New
York, see New York Philhar
monic Orchestra: New York
Philharmonic Symphony So
ciety.

Philharmonic Society, London,
see Royal Philharmonic So
ciety,

Piano in orchestra, 32.

Piccolo, 26, 37.

Pierne", Henri Constant Gabriel,
49, 333.

Pitt, Percy, 333.

Players, relationship of conduc
tors with, 89, 112, 119, 123, 140,
144, 164, 185, 191, 195, 204,
221, 245, 251.

Pohlig, Karl, 59, 334.

Polacco, Giorgo, 334.

Pollak, Egon, 335.

Poulet, Gaston, 334.

Prodigies, child, 87, 128.

Providence Journal, treatment
of Karl Muck, 153, 155.

Pruwer, Julius, 335.

Puccini, Giacomo, Turandot con
ducted by Toscanini, 181.

Queen's Hall Orchestra, London,

44.

Rabaud, Henri Benjamin, 58, 227

230, 335.

Rachmaninoff, Serge, 335.
Radio, Stokowski's experiments

with, 197, 207.
Rapee, Erno, 336.
Receptivity of audience, 15.

371

INDEX

Recording and transmission of
music, experiments, 208, 209.

Rehearsals, methods of conduc
tors during, 91, 124, 138, 140,
144, 146, 164, 184, 189, 195,
217, 220, 237, 246, 251.

Reinecke, Karl Heinrich, 40, 161;
biography, 336.

Reiner, Fritz, 60, 253, 254; biog
raphy, 336.

Respighi, Ottorino, 32, 33; ar
rangements of Bach, 224.

Rhen6-Baton, 47, 48, 337.

Rhythm, and tempo, 101-104;
Toscanini's rhythmic sense, 175.

Richter, Hans, 46, 51, 85, 94;
career and methods, 117-121.

Richter concerts, London, 120,
121.

Rochester Symphony Orchestra,
316.

Rodzinski, Artur, 276, 337.

Ronald, Sir Landon, 44, 88, 337.

Ross, Hugh, 338.

Rossini, Gioachino, 27, 87,

Rothwell, Walter Henry, 338.

Rouge, conductor's use of, 280.

Rousseau, Jean Jacques, cited,
71.

Roxy Theatre, 271.

Royal Philharmonic Society of
London, 23, 41-44, 83, 163; first
use of baton, 78.

Rubato, see Tempo rubato.

Russia, educational work of
Koussevitzky, 233.

Russian State Orchestras, 285.

Safonov, Vassily Ilyitch, 44, 56,

77n; biography, 838.
St. Bartholomew's Church, New

York, 210.
St. Louis Symphony Orchestra,

257.

Saint-Saens, Charles-Camille, 82.
Salieri, Antonio, 78.
Salomon, Johann Peter, 4*1, 839.
Saminsky, Lazare, 889.

Sargent, Harold Malcom Watts,
340.

Scarlatti, Alessandro, 36.

Schalk, Franz, 51, 340.

Scheel, Fritz, 59, 340.

Schelling, Ernest, 178, 341.

Scherchen, Hermann, 341.

Schillinger, Joseph, 33.

Schillings, Max von, 341.

Schindler, Kurt, 342.

Schneevoigt, George, 342.

Schubert, Franz, 27, 39.

Schulz, Leo, 192.

Schumann, Clara, 132,

Schunemann, Georg, cited, 74.

Score, conductor's knowledge of,
95; feats of conducting with
out, 112, 114, 121, 133, 135, 177,
205; conductors who make
changes in, 112, 114, 115, 125,
290-292; those who adhere to,
147, 161, 166, 181 ; fad of con
ducting without aid of, 285-
289.

Seidl, Anton, 55, 60, 85, 129; bi
ography, 842.

Serafin, Tullio, 843.

Sevitzky, Fabien, 848.

Shavitch, Vladimir, 848.

Shilkret, Nathaniel, 844.

Shostakowitch, Dimitri, 82 ; Lady
Macbeth of Mzenzk, 276.

Sibelius, Jean Julius Christian,
271.

Sistine Chapel, time-beating, 71,
77,

Slonimsky, Nicolas, 844.

Smallens, Alexander, 844.

Smith, David Stanley, 845,

Snare-drum, 81.

BocUte des Jeuney Arttotes du
Conservatoire, 47.

Society of Friends of Music, 100.

Sodero, Cesare, 845.

Sokoloff, Nikolai, 845.

Sol-fa, 71, 77.

Sollitt, Edna Richolson, on Men-
gelberg, 246.

372

INDEX

Solo passages performed by first-
desk man, 24.

Spectacular conductors, 80, 113,
198, 205, 211, 279-292.

Speech-making conductors, 114,
212, 221, 251.

Spitta, Philip, 72.

Spohr, Ludwig, conducts Royal
Philharmonic with baton, 42,
78; biography, 346.

Spontini, Gasparo Luigi, 77, 346.

Stamitz, Johann Wenzel Anton,
75, 346.

Star Spangled Banner, 153, 154.

Stefan, Paul, quoted, 123, 124.

Steinbach, Emil, 347.

Steinbach, Fritz, 347.

Stiedry, Fritz, 347.

Stock, Frederick, 57, 347.

Stoessel, Albert, 348.

Stokowski, Leopold, early career,
59; as conductor of Phila
delphia Symphony, 59, 213;
method with orchestra, 92; on
Toscanini, 175; personality,
197, 202; radio work, 197,
207; showmanship, 197, 199,
205, 211, 281; genius appraised,
200, 216; interest in other
arts, 202, 207; orchestral
transcriptions of Bach, 203,
223; rehearsals: relations with
players, 204, 220; experiments
and innovations, 207; conduc
tors trained by, 209, 276 ; early
life, 210; with Cincinnati Sym
phony, 211; exponent of mod
ern music, 212, 215; mentioned,
77n, 104, 291.

Stransky, Josef, 56, 244, 247; bi
ography, 348.

Straram, Walter, 348.

Strauss, Richard, instruments
employed by, 24, 25, 32, 33; ap
praisal of, 97; Der P,osenkava~
Her, 255; biography, 349; men
tioned, 51, 54, 267, 286.

Stravinsky, Igor Fedorovich, 32.

String instruments, 23-25; first
given prominence, 35.

Stucken, Frank van der, 60, 349.

Studer - Weingartner, Carmen,
278.

Style, instrumental, established,
35.

Stylistic performance, defined,
16.

Subordination of hearer, 15.

Sucher, Josef, 132.

Symphony-orchestra, component
parts, 23-39; strings, 24, 35;
woodwinds, 25, 38; brasses, 29,
37; percussion instruments, 30,
37; of foreign countries, 31;
other instruments, 32; early
instruments, 34; growth and
evolution of, 33-39; history of
major orchestras in existence
today, 39-67; origin in Mann
heim, 76; perfected by Wag
ner and Berlioz, 84.

Symphony orchestras, see under
names of cities, as Boston
Symphony Orchestra: New
York Philharmonic Symphony
Society, etc.

Taffanel, Claude Paul, 47, 349.

Taktschlager, conductor as, 70.

Tambourine, 31.

Tcherepnine, Nikolai, 349.

Techniques of conducting, 17, 92,
101-106.

Tempers and whims of conduc
tors, 74.

Tempo and rhythm, 101-104.

Tempo rubato, 103; Mendels
sohn's attitude toward, 79.

Thereminvox, 209.

Thomas, Theodore, as director of
New York Philharmonic, 51;
influence in America, 53, 54;
conducts Chicago Symphony,
56.

Time-beating, 69.

Timm, H. C., 52.

373

INDEX

Toscanini, Arturo, anecdotes
about, 68, 94; method with
players, 90, 91, 184; quoted,
106; refusal to perform Fas
cist hymn, 154n; made conduc
tor in South America, 169;
early years in Italy, 172;
world-fame, 173; Bayreuth ex
periences, 173, 187, 194; as
conductor of New York Phil
harmonic Symphony Society,
173, 242; appraisal of, 174, 193;
qualities as conductor, 175-180;
fabulous memory, 177; hyper
sensitive ear, 180; personality:
temperament, 181-188 ; tempers,
183; rehearsals: relations with
players, 189-192, 195; men
tioned, 61, 56, 67, 101, 164, 249,
284.

Triangle, 31, 37.

Trombone, 29, 3T.

Trumpet, 29.

Tschaikovsky, Piotr Ilich, sym
phonies, 31, 66, 183; and Ni-
kisch, 133, 139.

Tuba, 29, 37.

Tympani, 30, 87.

Verbugghen, Henri, 275, 350.
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra,

51, 163.
Violas, 24.
Violins, 24.
Violoncellos, 24.

Vivaldi, use of string-quartet, 86.
Volga tours of Koussevitzky's

orchestra, 233.

Wagner, Richard, Instruments
employed by, 25, 27, 29, 87, 89;
preeminent Wagnerlte conduc
tors, 50, 55, 63, 65, 98, 99, 117,
.129, 149, 158, 173, 187, 194;

friendship with Damrosch fam
ily, 64; Parsifal and Walter
Damrosch, 66; disapproval of
Mendelssohn's conducting, 79;
as conductor, 84, 85; on duty
of conductor, 84; chooses Hans
Richter to conduct music-
dramas, 117; contacts with
Nikisch, 129; biography, 350.

Wagner, Siegfried, 351.

Wallenstein, Alfred, 351.

Walter, Bruno, director of Ge-
wandhaus, 41 ; career in Amer
ica, 242, 258; early years, 260;
appraisal of, 261; mentioned,
56, 102, 268, 288, 291.

War hysteria, Karl Muck victim
of, 150-158.

Warfield, Governor, 155.

Weber, Carl Maria von, 88.

Weber, Gottfried, 77.

Weingartner, Felix von, Uber
das Dirigiren, cited, 103, 114,
116, 287; career and method,
160-166; mentioned, 44, 51, 56,
101, 104, 173, 284.

Weisbach, Hans, 351.

Wilkinson, Sir John Gardner, 70.

Wolff, Albert, 47.

Wolle, John Frederic, 852.

Women conductors, 277.

Wood, Sir Henry J., 44, 45, 285.

"Wood-chopper" of Paris Ope>a,
71,

Woodwind instruments, 25, 88.

Xylophone, 81.

York Symphony, 277.
Ysaye, Eugene, 60, 852.

Zaslawsky, Georges, 852.
Zemlinsky, Alexander van, 858,
Zenatello, Giovanni, 182,
Zopff, Hermann, 84.

374

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