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INDEX 181

The book is of course planned especially with the amateur in view, and the author, in writing it, has had in mind his own fruitless search for information upon the subject of conducting when he was just beginning his career as a teacher; and he has tried to say to the amateur of today those things that he himself so sorely needed to know at that time, and had to find out by blundering experience.

It should perhaps be stated that although the writer has himself had considerable experience in conducting, the material here presented is rather the result of observing and analyzing the work of others than an account of his own methods. In preparation for his task, the author has observed many of the better-known conductors in this country, both in rehearsal and in public performance, during a period of some twelve years, and the book represents an attempt to put into simple language and practical form the ideas gathered from this observation. It is hoped that as a result of reading these pages the amateur may not only have become more fully informed concerning those practical phases of conducting about which he has probably been seeking light, but may be inspired to further reading and additional music study in preparation for the larger aspects of the work.

The writer wishes to acknowledge the material assistance rendered him by Professor John Ross Frampton, of the Iowa State Teachers College, and Professor Osbourne McConathy, of Northwestern University, both of whom have read the book in manuscript and have given invaluable suggestions. He wishes also to acknowledge his very large debt to Professor George Dickinson, of Vassar College, who has read the material both in manuscript and in proof, and to whose pointed comments and criticisms many improvements both in material and in arrangement are due.

K.W.G.

INTRODUCTION

The word "conducting" as used in a musical sense now ordinarily refers to the activities of an orchestra or chorus leader who stands before a group of performers and gives his entire time and effort to directing their playing or singing, to the end that a musically effective ensemble performance may result.

In order to have his directing at the public performance function properly, it thus becomes the conductor's task to plan and to administer the rehearsals in such a way that the performers may become thoroughly familiar with the music, both in technique and in spirit. In other words, the conductor must play the part of musical manager as well as that of artistic inspirer, and if he does not perform his task in such fashion as to be looked up to by the members of his chorus or orchestra as the real leader, and if he himself does not feel confident of being able to do his work better than any one else upon the ground, he cannot possibly be successful in any very high degree. A conductor must first of all be a strong leader, and failing in this, no amount of musical ability or anything else will enable him to conduct well. We shall have more to say upon this point in a later chapter.

The musical amateur who is ambitious to conduct should therefore study music in all its phases, and if in doubt as to his talent, he should submit to a vocational test in order to determine whether his native musical endowment is sufficient to make it worth his while to study the art seriously. If the result of the test is encouraging, showing a good ear, a strong rhythmic reaction, and a considerable amount of what might be termed native musical taste, let him practise his piano energetically and intelligently, and especially let him learn to read three and four voices on separate staffs in order to prepare himself for future reading of full scores. Let him study harmony, counterpoint, form, and, if possible, composition and orchestration. Let him work indefatigably at ear-training, and particularly at harmonic ear training, so that notes and tones may become closely associated in his mind, the printed page then giving him auditory rather than merely visual imagery; in other words, let him school himself to make the printed page convey to his mind the actual sounds of the music. Let him study the history of music, not only as a record of the work of individual composers, but as an account of what has transpired in the various periods or epochs of musical art, so that he may become intelligent concerning the ideals, the styles, and the forms of these various periods. And finally, let him hear all the good music he possibly can, listening to it from the threefold standpoint of sense, emotion, and intellect, and noting particularly those matters connected with expression and interpretation in these renditions. In as many cases as possible let him study the scores of the compositions beforehand, comparing then his own ideas of interpretation with those of the performer or conductor, and formulating reasons for any differences of opinion that may become manifest.

PERSONAL TRAITS NECESSARY IN CONDUCTING

It is not my purpose to give at this point an exhaustive list of qualities that must form the personal equipment of the conductor. In general it will be sufficient to state that he must possess in a fair degree those personal traits that are advantageous in any profession. But of these desirable qualities three or four seem to be so indispensable that it has been thought best to devote a brief chapter to a discussion of them. These qualities are:

The first of these traits, a sense of humor, may perhaps upon first thought seem a peculiar quality to include in a category of virtues for the professional man of any type, and especially for the musician. But upon reflection it will be admitted that the ability to see things in a humorous light has helped many a man to avoid wasting nervous energy upon insignificant occurrences, while the lack of this ability has caused more trouble among all sorts of people than any other single thing.

Some player or singer is either over-arduous or a bit sleepy during the first stages of rehearsing a new composition, and makes a wrong entrance, perhaps during a pause just before the climacteric point. The occurrence is really funny and the other performers are inclined to smile or snicker, but our serious conductor quells the outbreak with a scowl. The humorous leader, on the other hand, sees the occurrence as the performers do, joins in the laugh that is raised at the expense of the offender, and the rehearsal goes on with renewed spirit.

An instrumental performer makes a bad tone, and the conductor laughs at him, saying it sounds like a wolf howling or an ass braying. If the remark is accompanied by a smile, the performer straightens up and tries to overcome the fault; but if the comment is made with a snarl there is a tightening up of muscles, an increased tension of the nerves, and the performer is more than likely to do worse the next time.

There is a difference of opinion between the conductor and some performer about fingering or bowing, phrasing or interpretation, and a quarrel seems imminent; but the conductor refuses to take the matter too seriously, and, having ample authority for his own viewpoint, proceeds as he has begun, later on talking it over with the performer, and perhaps giving him a reason for his opinion.

Humor is thus seen to have the same effect upon a body of musicians as oil applied to machinery, and musical machinery seems to need more of this kind of lubrication than almost any other variety.

Humor originally meant moisture, a signification it metaphorically retains, for it is the very juice of the mind, enriching and fertilizing where it falls. Wit laughs at; humor laughs with. Wit lashes external appearances, or cunningly exchanges single foibles into character; humor glides into the heart of its object, looks lovingly upon the infirmities it attacks, and represents the whole man. Wit is abrupt, scornful ...; humor is slow and shy, insinuating its fun into your heart.

It is this quality of creative imagination that enables the inventor to project his mind into the future and see a continent spanned by railways and telephones, and the barrier of an ocean broken down by means of wireless and aeroplane; and in every case the inventor works with old and well-known materials, being merely enabled by the power of his creative faculties to combine these known materials in new ways.

Weingartner sums up the value of imagination in the final paragraph of one of the few really valuable books on conducting at our disposal.

More and more I have come to think that what decides the worth of conducting is the degree of suggestive power that the conductor can exercise over the performers. At the rehearsals he is mostly nothing more than a workman, who schools the men under him so conscientiously and precisely that each of them knows his place and what he has to do there; he first becomes an artist when the moment comes for the production of the work. Not even the most assiduous rehearsing, so necessary a prerequisite as this is, can so stimulate the capacities of the players as the force of imagination of the conductor. It is not the transference of his personal will, but the mysterious act of creation that called the work itself into being takes place again in him, and transcending the narrow limits of reproduction, he becomes a new-creator, a self-creator.

This quality is indispensable to all musicians, be they creators or performers, but is especially desirable in the conductor, for he needs it not only from the standpoint of interpretation, as already noted, but from that of manager or organizer. Upon this latter point we shall have more to say later, but it may be well to state just here that if the conductor could imagine what was going on in the minds of his players or singers, and could see things from their viewpoint; if he could forecast the effect of his explanatory directions or of his disciplinary rulings, nine-tenths of all the quarreling, bickering, and general dissatisfaction that so frequently mar the work of any musical organization could easily be eliminated. We might also add that if the conductor could only foresee the effect upon his audiences of certain works, or of certain interpretations, his plans would probably often be materially altered.

But the conductor must be more than a humorous-minded and imaginative musician. He must also be an organizer, a business man, a leader. The qualities of leadership and organizing ability are so closely connected that we shall for the most part treat them together in our discussion, and they are so important that a fairly extensive analysis will be attempted.

Schumann was sadly wanting in the real talent for conducting. All who ever saw him conduct or played under his direction are agreed on this point. Irrespective of the fact that conducting for any length of time tired him out, he had neither the collectedness and prompt presence of mind, nor the sympathetic faculty, nor the enterprising dash, without each of which conducting in the true sense is impossible. He even found difficulty in starting at a given tempo; nay, he even sometimes shrank from giving any initial beat, so that some energetic pioneer would begin without waiting for the signal, and without incurring Schumann's wrath! Besides this, any thorough practice, bit by bit, with his orchestra, with instructive remarks by the way as to the mode of execution, was impossible to this great artist, who in this respect was a striking contrast to Mendelssohn. He would have a piece played through, and if it did not answer to his wishes, have it repeated. If it went no better the second or perhaps third time, he would be extremely angry at what he considered the clumsiness, or even the ill-will of the players; but detailed remarks he never made.

The feeling that one has the power to cause others to do one's will seems in most cases to be inborn, at least certain children display it at a very early age; and it is usually the boys and girls who decide on the playground what games shall be played next, or what mischief shall now be entered upon, who later on become leaders in their several fields of activity. And yet this sense of leadership, or something closely approximating it, may also be acquired, at least to a certain extent, by almost any one who makes a consistent and intelligent attempt in this direction. It is this latter fact which may encourage those of us who are not naturally as gifted along these lines as we should like to be, and it is because of this possibility of acquiring what in conducting amounts to an indispensable qualification that an attempt is here made to analyze the thing called leadership into its elements.

The second element included in leadership and organizing ability is the power to make oneself understood, that is, clearness of speech and of expression. This involves probably first of all, so far as conducting is concerned, a voice that can be easily heard, even in a fairly large room, and that carries with it the tone of authority. But it includes also a good command of language so that one's ideas may be expressed clearly, and one's commands given definitely. An important point to be noted in this connection is that the conductor must be able to exercise rigid self-control, so as not to become incoherent under stress of anger, emergencies, or other excitement.

The final element involved in leadership is a tremendous love of and respect for the thing that is being done. Napoleon became a great general because of his confidence in his own ability, and because of his very great enthusiasm for his work. Lincoln became one of the greatest statesmen of all times largely because of his earnestness, his extraordinary love and respect for the common people, and his unfaltering confidence in the justice of the cause for which the North was contending. Pestalozzi could never have become one of the world's most influential teachers if he had not felt that the thing he was trying to do was a big thing, a vital thing in the life of his country, and if he had not had a real love in his heart for his work among the ragged and untrained urchins whom he gathered about him.

And for the same reason it is clear that no one can become a strong and forceful conductor who does not have an overwhelming love of music in his heart. We may go farther and say that no conductor can give a really spirited reading of a musical composition if he does not feel genuinely enthusiastic over the work being performed, and that one reason for the sluggish response that musicians often make to the conductor's baton is the mediocrity of the music which they are being asked to perform. The conductor is not in sympathy with it , and there is consequently no virility in the playing or singing. The remedy for this state of affairs consists, first, in allowing only those who have some taste in the selection of music to conduct; and second, in inspiring all conductors to take much more time and much greater pains in deciding upon the works to be rehearsed. In directing a choir one may examine a dozen cantatas, or twenty-five anthems, before one is found that is really distinctive. If one stops at the second or third, and thinks that although not very good yet it is possibly good enough, very probably the choir will be found to be sluggish and unresponsive, filled with what Coward calls "inertia." But if one goes on looking over more and more selections until something really distinctive is discovered, it is more than probable that the chorus will respond with energy and enthusiasm.

We have heard many arguments in favor of teaching children only the best music, and here is yet another, perhaps more potent than all the rest. They must be taught only good music because you as a musician will find it impossible to become enthusiastic over mediocre or poor works; and if you do not yourself glow over the music that you are directing, you will hardly succeed in arousing the children's interest, for enthusiasm spreads by contagion, and there can be no spreading by contact unless we have a point from which to start.

Before going on with the topic to be treated in the next chapter, let us summarize the materials out of which our conductor is to be fashioned. They are:

He who wishes to "carry away" his body of players as well as his audience, the former to a unanimously acted improvisation, the latter to a unanimously felt emotion, needs above all "commanding personal magnetism," and everything else must be subordinate to that.

THE TECHNIQUE OF THE BATON

Before giving actual directions for the manipulation of the conductor's baton, it may be well to state that the stick itself should be light in weight, light in color, and from sixteen to twenty inches long. It must be thin and flexible, and should taper gradually from the end held in the hand to the point. Batons of this kind can be manufactured easily at any ordinary planing mill where there is a lathe. The kinds sold at stores are usually altogether too thick and too heavy. If at any time some adulating chorus or choir should present the conductor with an ebony baton with silver mountings, he must not feel that courtesy demands that it should be used in conducting. The proper thing to do with such an instrument is to tie a ribbon around one end and hang it on the wall as a decoration.

A word about the music desk may also be in order at this time. It should be made of wood or heavy metal so that in conducting one need not constantly feel that it is likely to be knocked over. The ordinary folding music stand made of light metal is altogether unsuitable for a conductor's use. A good substantial stand with a metal base and standard and wood top can be purchased for from three to five dollars from any dealer in musical instruments. If no money is available and the stand is constructed at home, it may be well to note that the base should be heavy, the upright about three and a half feet high, and the top or desk about fourteen by twenty inches. This top should tilt only slightly, so that the conductor may glance from it to his performers without too much change of focus. Our reason for mentioning apparently trivial matters of this kind is to guard against any possible distraction of the conductor's mind by unimportant things. If these details are well provided for in advance, he will be able while conducting to give his entire attention to the real work in hand.

The hand manipulating the baton must always be held sufficiently high so as to be easily seen by all performers, the elbow being kept well away from the body, almost level with the shoulder. The elevation of the baton, of course, depends upon the size of the group being conducted, upon the manner in which the performers are arranged, and upon whether they are sitting or standing. The conductor will accordingly vary its position according to the exigencies of the occasion, always remembering that a beat that cannot be easily seen will not be readily followed.

The general direction of the baton movements now in universal use is shown in the following figures.

In actual practice however, the baton moves from point to point in a very much more complex fashion, and in order to aid the learner still further in his analysis of time beating an elaborated version of the foregoing figures is supplied. It is of course understood that such diagrams are of value only in giving a general idea of these more complex movements and that they are not to be followed minutely.

An examination of these figures will show that all baton movements are based upon four general principles:

The fact that a composition is in 4-4 measure does not necessarily mean that every measure is to be directed by being given four actual beats, and one of the things that the conductor must learn is when to give more beats and when fewer.

In this same connection, the amateur may perhaps raise the question as to whether it is wise to beat the rhythm or the pulse in such a measure as . In other words, is it well to give a down-beat on 1, two small beats toward the left for 2, while 3 and 4 are treated in the ordinary way? This question may be answered by referring to the rule given on page 25, but perhaps it will be safer to make the application more specific by advising the young conductor to adhere fairly closely to beating the pulse unless a much slower tempo makes extra beats necessary. The additional movements may be of some service in certain cases, but in general they tend to confuse rather than to clarify, this being especially true in the case of syncopated rhythms. The only exceptions to this principle are:

Although covered in general by the preceding discussion, it may perhaps be well to state specifically that the compound measures 6-8, 9-8, and 12-8 are ordinarily taken as duple, triple, and quadruple measures, respectively. In other words, the dotted-quarter-note is thought of as the beat note, some modern editors going so far as to write in place of 6-8 as the measure sign; in place of 9-8; and in place of 12-8. In conducting these various types of measure, the general principle given on page 25 again applies, and if the tempo is very slow, the conductor beats 6, 9, or 12, to the measure, but if it is rapid, the flow of the rhythm is much better indicated by 2, 3, and 4 beats respectively.

Although only occasionally encountered by the amateur, five- and seven-beat measures are now made use of frequently enough by composers to make some explanation of their treatment appropriate. A five-beat measure is a compound measure comprising a two-beat and a three-beat one. Sometimes the two-beat group is first, and sometimes the three-beat one. If the former, then the conductor's beat will be down-up, down-right-up. But if it is the other way about, then the beat will naturally be down-right-up, down-up. "But how am I to know which comes first?" asks the tyro. And our answer is, "Study the music, and if you cannot find out in this way, you ought not to be conducting the composition."

In the case of a hold , the movement for the cut-off depends upon the nature of what follows. If the tone to be prolonged forms the end of a phrase or section, the baton is brought down vigorously as at the end of a composition; but if the hold occurs at the end of a phrase in such a way as not to form a decided closing point, or if it occurs in the midst of the phrase itself, the cut-off is not nearly so pronounced, and the conductor must exercise care to move his baton in such a direction as to insure its being ready to give a clear signal for the attack of the tone following the hold. Thus, with a hold on the third beat, the cut-off would probably be toward the right and upward, this movement then serving also as a preliminary for the fourth beat to follow.

For working in rehearsal it is convenient to use some such exclamation as "Ready--Sing," or "Ready--Play," in order that amateur musicians may be enabled to attack the first chord promptly, even in reading new music. In this case the word "Ready" comes just before the preliminary movement; the word "Sing" or "Play" being coincident with the actual preliminary movement. In preparing for a public performance, however, the conductor should be careful not to use these words so much in rehearsing that his musicians will have difficulty in making their attacks without hearing them.

In the case of the Anglican chant, it should be noted that there are two parts to each verse: one, a reciting portion in which there is no measured rhythm; the other, a rhythmic portion in which the pulses occur as in measured music. In the reciting portion of the chant, the rhythm is that of ordinary prose speech, punctuation marks being observed as in conventional language reading. This makes it far more difficult to keep the singers together, and in order to secure uniformity, some conductors give a slight movement of the baton for each syllable; others depend upon a down-beat at the beginning of each measure together with the lip movements made by the conductor himself and followed minutely by the chorus.

Now that we have laid down the principles upon the basis of which our prospective conductor is to beat time, let us warn him once more that here, as in other things, it is intelligent practice that makes perfect, and that if he is to learn to handle the baton successfully, and particularly if he is to learn to do it so well that he need never give the slightest thought to his baton while actually conducting, hours of practice in beating time will be necessary. This practising should sometimes take place before a mirror, or better still, in the presence of some critical friend, so that a graceful rather than a grotesque style of handling the baton may result; it should also be done with the metronome clicking or with some one playing the piano much of the time, in order that the habit of maintaining an absolutely steady, even tempo may evolve. The phonograph may also be utilized for this purpose, and may well become an indispensable factor in training conductors in the future, it being possible in this way to study the elements of interpretation as well as to practise beating time.

INTERPRETATION IN CONDUCTING

INTRODUCTORY

We shall devote this and the three following chapters to a discussion of these two phases of interpretation.

This conception of the conductor's task demands from him two things:

Real interpretation, then, requires, on the part of the conductor, just as in the case of the actor, a display of emotion. Coldness and self-restraint will not suffice, for these represent merely the intellectual aspect of the art, and music is primarily a language of the emotions. This difference constitutes the dividing line between performances that merely arouse our judicial comment "That was exceedingly well done"; and those on the other hand that thrill us, carry us off our feet, sweep us altogether out of our environment so that for the moment we forget where we are, lose sight temporarily of our petty cares and grievances, and are permitted to live for a little while in an altogether different world--the world not of things and ambitions and cares, but of ecstasy. Such performances and such an attitude on the part of the listener are all too rare in these days of smug intellectualism and hypersophistication, and we venture to assert that this is at least partly due to the fact that many present-day conductors are intellectual rather than emotional in their attitude.

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