THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 22718, 4 August 1937, Page 2

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

__—.— . [3y L.D.A.] “ Music gives tone to the universe: wings to the mind; (light to the imagination: a charm to sadness: gaiety and life to everything.”—Plato, it must require great force, of character for an eminent, x)opular ; and successful instrumentalist, or singer, to retire from concert-giving when at the very peak of a prosperous career. The classic example of suck voluntary renunciation is, of course, that of Franz Liszt, who abandoned the public platform, at the early ago of 36, while he was yet tho idol of all musical Europe, in. order to devote himself and his w'calth to tho welfare of his less fortunate brother artists. This action is unique in history, and, if he had done nothing else, it would suffice to confer immortalitv on Liszt’s name.

A few other famous pianists have had the good sense to quit public performances before their powers began to wane perceptibly—such as Anton Rubinstein, Busoni, Godowsky, etc. The pity of it is that in the majority of cases, however, either from personal vanity or for financial reasons, platform celebrities persist in the public view long after they have passed their meridian. I could mention at least two formerly great pianists whose flaying to-day is a mere shadow of its pristine brilliance; in fact, to those who remember these men-in their prime it is positively pathetic to listen to them now. _ If they only knew' it! They are artistically dead, but they won’t Ho down.

Strangely enough, age does not seem to wither, nor custom stale, the infinite variety of violinists. Perhaps the stringed instrument makes fewer demands upon the physique. Violin virtuosity apparently is not incompatible with an attenuated frame and a C 3 muscular system. Among the great violinists I have heard I cannot recall one who looked anything like an athlete. As a class they seem, nevertheless, to retain their powers to an age when most pianists are transparently decrepit, yet nearly all celebrated pianoforte virtuosi have been men of considerable bodily development. Piano technique unquestionably declines with advancing years, and very few pianists survive comparisons when they are over 60.

However, my text to-day is upon tho courage, not to say heroism, required for an artist to retire into private fife simply because he feels that he can no longer do full justice to his work, and notwithstanding that there is no appreciable outward diminution of ability. Such an instance has just occurred in the case of Lionel Tertis, the famous viola player, whose loss to the musical world is truly grievous because irremediable. Tertis is a living contradiction of the saying that no man is indispensable. His retirement amounts to a real calamity for the reason that at present he cannot be replaced. In the whole world there is no other viola player who can he compared with him. The only parallel examples of instrumental monopoly that I know of are Leon Goosens and Aubrey Brain, who stand alone and unrivalled as exponents of the oboe and horn respectively; otherwise the musical field is crowded to overflowing. There a fe pianists enough and to spare,‘ violinists galore, ’cellists without stint, and singers to burn. I would gleefully incinerate all the crooners and stoke their pyre with gusto.

But of Lionel Tertis it may aptly be said that after fashioning him Providence destroyed the mould. His peer is not to be found to-day, and so evidently thought the big gathering which assembled in London recently to do him honour on his impending retirement. Practically every musical notability available' attended the dinner which was given last month by a committee of leading professional colleagues; and messages of affectionate sympathy, goodwill, and regret were received from many celebrities unavoidably absent, including Kireisler, Siloti, Schnabel, Szigeti, and hosts of others. According to advices from London it was an occasion long to be remembered and well worthy of the honoured guest. Speeches were made that left no doubt about tho high esteem and respect in which Tertis is held by the musical profession; and to be thus publicly acclaimed at the hands and hearts of one’s professional brethren is surely the sincerest tribute any man can hope ever to receive.

Eugene Goosens said that ho was in America when ho heard the news of Tertis’s intention to retire, and the announcement quite eclipsed, for him, the disastrous flood which then threatened Cincinnati. _ Sir Thomas Beecham praised the influence of Tertis upon the viola section of the orchestra, which, without it, was only too often a “ distressed area.” Dr Vaughan ‘Williams said that if_ Mr Tertis would consent to withdraw his decision British composers would promise in a body to write continually and specially for him. Several other speakers gave the impression of believing that only firm persuasion was needed to induce the great viola exponent to forgo his retirement or at least to postpone it. But when the object of their solicitude rose to reply his speech left no room for speculation. Mr Tertis said: “ My advocacy of the viola was the result of accidental contact with the instrument about 44 years ago, when I at once realised its attractions and its undeserved neglect. At that time the viola was the ugly duckling of the orchestra, and, however inadequate my efforts have been, I do take prido in the, fact that I was among those who helped to rescue it from its invidious position.”

“ Now,” continued Mr Tertis, “ I sliouldl like to make an explanation regarding the discontinuance of lAy work, t want to take this opportunity of removing some scepticism which I know exists in regard to the cause of my retirement. I ask you all to believe me when I say that my resolution did not come about without good reason and mature deliberation. “ For some two years I have had to resort to subterfuge to cover up the deficiencies in my playing. My colleague, Albert Sammons, will bear mo out when I tell you how, 18 months ago, in sheer desperation I sent him an SOS and confessed to him the failing in my bowing technique which had como upon me. He tried all the tricks of the trade to overcome my difficulties, but without avail, and, like the good friend ho has ever been to me, he kept my secret. “ The trouble rapidly reduced my repertory, and the position became untenable. I ask yon to accept this explanation of my retirement at the tender ago of 60. I had quite hoped I was good enough for another five years; hut I am sure you will agree with mo that, having preached the gospel of the viola for so many years,

it was time to give up when I realised I could not entirely practise what I had preached. I found myself unable to give the viola my complete powers, such as they were, and my course thus became very clear. I felt I would rather renounce my calling than bring to it a hampered service,” # « * ♦ No more noble utterance than this final sentence has ever graced a speech of farewell, surely. It will be seen that in any event Mr Tertis had intended to retire in another five years. This implies his belief that at 65 an executive musician cannot conscientiously continue to take toll from even a willing public—a creed which has few adherents, as a cursory glance at a biographical dictionary of contemporary instrumentalists will show. Of course, it may be said that as long as people want to hear an artist, and are prepared to part with good shekels for that purpose, the performer is quite justified in carrying on. This, indeed,_ seems to be the common practice, seeing that several musical dotards still encumber the concert horizon. All the more refreshing, therefore, when we encounter ono solitary honest man—one of that rare company who,_ like Lionel Tertis, have been unwavering disciples of the immortal advice; This above all: to thine own, self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man, 1