Fritz Kreisler |

Fritz Kreisler

Who had heard a single work by Punyani, Cartier, Francoeur, Porpora, Louis Couperin, Padre Martini or Stamitz before I started writing under their names? They lived only on the pages of musical lexicons, and their compositions were forgotten in the walls of monasteries or gathered dust on the shelves of libraries. These names were nothing more than empty shells, old, forgotten cloaks that I used to hide my own identity. F. Kleisler

F. Kreisler is the last violinist-artist, in whose work the traditions of virtuoso-romantic art of the XNUMXth century continued to develop, refracted through the prism of the worldview of the new era. In many ways, he anticipated the interpretative trends of today, tending towards greater freedom and subjectivization of interpretation. Continuing the traditions of the Strausses, J. Liner, Viennese urban folklore, Kreisler created numerous violin masterpieces and arrangements that are widely popular on the stage.

Kreisler was born into the family of a doctor, an amateur violinist. From childhood, he heard a quartet in the house, led by his father. The composer K. Goldberg, Z. Freud and other prominent figures of Vienna have been here. From the age of four, Kreisler studied with his father, then with F. Ober. Already at the age of 3 he entered the Vienna Conservatory to I. Helbesberger. At the same time, the first performance of the young musician took place in the concert of K. Patti. According to the theory of composition, Kreisler studies with A. Bruckner and at the age of 7 composes a string quartet. The performances of A. Rubinstein, I. Joachim, P. Sarasate make a huge impression on him. At the age of 8, Kreisler graduated from the Vienna Conservatory with a gold medal. His concerts are a success. But his father wants to give him a more serious school. And Kreisler again enters the conservatory, but now in Paris. J. Massard (teacher of G. Venyavsky) became his violin teacher, and L. Delibes in composition, who determined his style of composition. And here, after 9 years, Kreisler receives a gold medal. As a twelve-year-old boy, together with F. Liszt’s student M. Rosenthal, he makes a tour of the United States, making his debut in Boston with a concert by F. Mendelssohn.

Despite the great success of the little child prodigy, the father insists on a full liberal arts education. Kreisler leaves the violin and enters the gymnasium. At the age of eighteen, he goes on tour to Russia. But, having returned, he enters a medical institute, composes military marches, plays in the Tyrolean ensemble with A. Schoenberg, meets I. Brahms and participates in the first performance of his quartet. Finally, Kreisler decided to hold a competition for the group of second violins of the Vienna Opera. And – a complete failure! The discouraged artist decides to give up the violin forever. The crisis passed only in 1896, when Kreisler undertook a second tour of Russia, which became the beginning of his bright artistic career. Then, with great success, his concerts are held in Berlin under the direction of A. Nikish. There was also a meeting with E. Izai, which largely influenced the style of Kreisler the violinist.

In 1905, Kreisler created a cycle of violin pieces “Classical Manuscripts” – 19 miniatures written as an imitation of classical works of the 1935th century. Kreisler, in order to mystify, concealed his authorship, giving out the plays as transcriptions. At the same time, he published his stylizations of old Viennese waltzes – “The Joy of Love”, “The Pangs of Love”, “Beautiful Rosemary”, which were subjected to devastating criticism and opposed to transcriptions as true music. It was not until XNUMX that Kreisler confessed to the hoax, shocking critics.

Kreisler repeatedly toured in Russia, played with V. Safonov, S. Rachmaninov, I. Hoffmann, S. Kusevitsky. During the First World War, he was drafted into the army, near Lvov came under attack by the Cossacks, was wounded in the thigh and was treated for a long time. He leaves for the USA, gives concerts, but, as he fought against Russia, he is obstructed.

At this time, together with the Hungarian composer V. Jacobi, he wrote the operetta “Flowers of the Apple Tree”, staged in New York in 1919. I. Stravinsky, Rachmaninov, E. Varese, Izai, J. Heifets and others attended the premiere.

Kreisler makes numerous tours around the world, many records are recorded. In 1933 he creates the second Zizi operetta staged in Vienna. His repertoire during this period was limited to classics, romance and his own miniatures. He practically does not play modern music: “No composer can find an effective mask against the suffocating gases of modern civilization. One should not be surprised when listening to the music of the young people of today. This is the music of our era and it is natural. Music will not take a different direction unless the political and social situation in the world changes.”

In 1924-32. Kreisler lives in Berlin, but in 1933 he was forced to leave because of fascism, first to France and then to America. Here he continues to perform and do his processing. The most interesting of them are creative transcriptions of violin concertos by N. Paganini (First) and P. Tchaikovsky, plays by Rachmaninov, N. Rimsky-Korsakov, A. Dvorak, F. Schubert, etc. In 1941, Kreisler was hit by a car and did not was able to perform. The last concert he gave was at Carnegie Hall in 1947.

Peru Kreisler owns 55 compositions and over 80 transcriptions and adaptations of various concertos and plays, sometimes representing a radical creative processing of the original. Kreisler’s compositions – his violin concerto “Vivaldi”, stylizations of ancient masters, Viennese waltzes, such pieces as Recitative and Scherzo, “Chinese Tambourine”, arrangements of “Folia” by A. Corelli, “Devil’s Trill” by G. Tartini, variations of “Witch” Paganini, cadenzas to concertos by L. Beethoven and Brahms are widely performed on the stage, enjoying great success with the audience.

V. Grigoriev

In the musical art of the first third of the XNUMXth century, one cannot find a figure like Kreisler. The creator of a completely new, original style of play, he influenced literally all of his contemporaries. Neither Heifetz, nor Thibaut, nor Enescu, nor Oistrakh, who “learned” a lot from the great Austrian violinist at the time of the formation of his talent, passed by him. Kreisler’s game was surprised, imitated, studied, analyzing the smallest details; the greatest musicians bowed before him. He enjoyed unquestioned authority until the end of his life.

In 1937, when Kreisler was 62 years old, Oistrakh heard him in Brussels. “For me,” he wrote, “Kreisler’s playing made an unforgettable impression. In the very first minute, at the very first sounds of his unique bow, I felt all the power and charm of this wonderful musician. Assessing the musical world of the 30s, Rachmaninov wrote: “Kreisler is considered the best violinist. Behind him is Yasha Kheyfets, or next to him. With Kreisler, Rachmaninoff had a permanent ensemble for many years.

The art of Kreisler as a composer and performer was formed from the fusion of Viennese and French musical cultures, a fusion that really gave something endearingly original. Kreisler was connected with the Viennese musical culture by many things contained in his very work. Vienna brought up in him an interest in the classics of the XNUMXth-XNUMXth centuries, which caused the appearance of his elegant “old” miniatures. But even more direct is this connection with everyday Vienna, its light, applied music and traditions dating back to Johann Strauss. Of course, Kreisler’s waltzes differ from Strauss’s, in which, as Y. Kremlev aptly notes, “gracefulness is combined with youthfulness, and everything is imbued with some uniquely characteristic light and languid perception of life.” Kreisler’s waltz loses its youthfulness, becoming more sensual and intimate, a “mood play”. But the spirit of the old “Strauss” Vienna lives in it.

Kreisler borrowed many violin techniques from French art, vibrato in particular. He gave the vibrations a sensual spice that is not characteristic of the French. Vibrato, used not only in cantilena, but also in passages, has become one of the hallmarks of his performing style. According to K. Flesh, by increasing the expressiveness of vibration, Kreisler followed Yzai, who first introduced a wide, intense vibrato with the left hand into everyday life for violinists. The French musicologist Marc Pencherl believes that Kreisler’s example was not Isai, but his teacher at the Paris Conservatory Massard: “A former student of Massard, he inherited from his teacher an expressive vibrato, very different from that of the German school.” The violinists of the German school were characterized by a cautious attitude to vibration, which they used very sparingly. And the fact that Kreisler began to paint with it not only cantilena, but also a moving texture, contradicted the aesthetic canons of academic art of the XNUMXth century.

However, it is not entirely correct to consider Kreisler in the use of vibration a follower of Izaya or Massar, as Flesch and Lehnsherl do. Kreisler gave vibration a different dramatic and expressive function, unfamiliar to his predecessors, including Ysaye and Massard. For him, it ceased to be “paint” and turned into a permanent quality of the violin cantilena, its strongest means of expression. In addition, it was very specific, in type being one of the most characteristic features of his individual style. Having spread the vibration to the motor texture, he gave the game an extraordinary melodiousness of a kind of “spicy” shade, which was obtained by a special way of sound extraction. Outside of this, the Kreisler vibration cannot be considered.

Kreisler differed from all violinists in stroke techniques and sound production. He played with a bow farther from the bridge, closer to the fretboard, with short but dense strokes; he used portamento abundantly, saturating the cantilena with “accents-sighs” or separating one sound from another with soft caesuras using portamentation. Accents in the right hand were often accompanied by accents in the left, by means of a vibratory “push”. As a result, a tart, “sensual” cantilena of a soft “matte” timbre was created.

“In the possession of the bow, Kreisler deliberately diverged from his contemporaries,” writes K. Flesh. – Before him, there was an unshakable principle: always strive to use the entire length of the bow. This principle is hardly correct, if only because the technical implementation of the “graceful” and “graceful” requires the maximum limitation of the length of the bow. Either way, Kreisler’s example shows that gracefulness and intensity don’t involve using the entire bow. He used the extreme upper end of the bow only in exceptional cases. Kreisler explained this inherent feature of the bow technique by the fact that he had “too short arms”; at the same time, the use of the lower part of the bow worried him in connection with the possibility in this case to spoil the “es” of the violin. This “economy” was balanced by his characteristic strong bow pressure with accentuation, which in turn was regulated by an extremely intense vibration.

Pencherl, who has been observing Kreisler for many years, introduces some corrections into Flesch’s words; he writes that Kreisler played in small strokes, with frequent changes of the bow and his hair so tight that the cane acquired a bulge, but later, in the post-war period (meaning the First World War. – L. R.) returned to more academic methods of bowing.

Small dense strokes combined with portamento and expressive vibration were risky tricks. However, their use by Kreisler never crossed the boundaries of good taste. He was saved by the unchanging musical seriousness noticed by Flesch, which was both innate and the result of education: “It does not matter the degree of sensuality of his portamento, always restrained, never tasteless, calculated on cheap success,” writes Flesh. Pencherl draws a similar conclusion, believing that Kreisler’s methods did not at all violate the solidity and nobility of his style.

Kreisler’s fingering tools were peculiar with many sliding transitions and “sensual”, emphasized glissandos, which often connected adjacent sounds to enhance their expressiveness.

In general, Kreisler’s playing was unusually soft, with “deep” timbres, a free “romantic” rubato, harmoniously combined with a clear rhythm: “Smellor and rhythm are the two foundations on which his performing art was based.” “He never sacrificed rhythm for the sake of dubious success, and he never chased speed records.” Flesch’s words do not diverge from Pencherl’s opinion: “In the cantabile, his sonority acquired a strange charm – sparkling, hot, just as sensual, it did not have at all low because of the constant hardness of the rhythm that enlivened the whole game.”

This is how the portrait of Kreisler the violinist emerges. It remains to add a few touches to it.

In both main branches of his activity – performance and creativity – Kreisler became famous mainly as a master of miniatures. The miniature requires detail, so Kreisler’s game served this purpose, highlighting the slightest shades of moods, the subtlest nuances of emotions. His performing style was remarkable for its extraordinary refinement and even, to a certain extent, salonism, although very ennobled. For all the melodiousness, cantileverness of Kreisler’s playing, because of the detailed short strokes, there was a lot of declamation in it. To a large extent, “speaking”, “speech” intonation, which distinguishes modern bow performance, takes its origins from Kreisler. This declamatory nature introduced elements of improvisation into his game, and the softness, sincerity of intonation gave it the character of free music-making, distinguished by immediacy.

Taking into account the peculiarities of his style, Kreisler built the programs of his concerts accordingly. He devoted the first section to large-scale works, and the second to miniatures. Following Kreisler, other violinists of the XNUMXth century began to saturate their programs with small pieces and transcriptions, which had not been done before (miniatures were played only as an encore). According to Pencherl, “in great works he was the most respectable interpreter, fantasy inеnza manifested itself in the freedom to perform small pieces at the end of the concert.

It is impossible to agree with this opinion. Kreisler also introduced a lot of individual, only peculiar to him, into the interpretation of the classics. In a large form, his characteristic improvisation, a certain aestheticization, generated by the sophistication of his taste, manifested itself. K. Flesh writes that Kreisler exercised little and considered it superfluous to “play out.” He did not believe in the need for regular practice, and therefore his finger technique was not perfect. And yet, on the stage, he showed “delightful composure.”

Pencherl spoke about this in a slightly different way. According to him, technology for Kreisler was always in the background, he was never her slave, believing that if a good technical base was acquired in childhood, then later one should not worry. He once told a journalist: “If a virtuoso worked properly when he was young, then his fingers will remain flexible forever, even if in adulthood he cannot maintain his technique every day.” The maturation of Kreisler’s talent, the enrichment of his individuality, was facilitated by reading ensemble music, general education (literary and philosophical) to a much greater extent than many hours spent on scales or exercises. But his hunger for music was insatiable. Playing in ensembles with friends, he could ask to repeat the Schubert Quintet with two cellos, which he adored, three times in a row. He said that a passion for music is tantamount to a passion for playing, that it is one and the same – “playing the violin or playing roulette, composing or smoking opium …”. “When you have virtuosity in your blood, then the pleasure of climbing onto the stage rewards you for all your sorrows …”

Pencherl recorded the violinist’s external manner of playing, his behavior on the stage. In an article already cited before, he writes: “My memories begin from afar. I was a very young boy when I had the good fortune to have a long conversation with Jacques Thiebaud, who was still at the dawn of his brilliant career. I felt for him that kind of idolatrous admiration to which children are so subject (at a distance it no longer seems so unreasonable to me). When I questioned him greedily about all things and all the people in his profession, one of his answers touched me, for it came from what I considered to be the deity among violinists. “There is one remarkable type,” he told me, “who will go further than me. Remember Kreisler’s name. This will be our master for all.”

Naturally, Pencherl tried to get to the very first concert of Kreisler. “Kreisler seemed like a colossus to me. He always evoked an extraordinary impression of power with a broad torso, an athletic neck of a weight-thrower, a face with rather remarkable features, crowned with thick hair cut in a crew cut. On closer examination, the warmth of the gaze changed what at first glance might have seemed harsh.

While the orchestra played the introduction, he stood as if on guard – his hands at his sides, the violin almost to the ground, hooked to the curl with the index finger of his left hand. At the moment of introduction, he raised it, as if flirtingly, at the very last second, to place it on his shoulder with a gesture so swift that the instrument seemed to be caught up by the chin and collarbone.

Kreisler’s biography is detailed in Lochner’s book. He was born in Vienna on February 2, 1875 in the family of a doctor. His father was a passionate music lover and only the resistance of his grandfather prevented him from choosing a musical profession. The family often played music, and quartets played regularly on Saturdays. Little Fritz listened to them without stopping, fascinated by the sounds. Musicality was so in his blood that he pulled shoelaces on cigar boxes and imitated the players. “Once,” says Kreisler, “when I was three and a half years old, I was next to my father during the performance of Mozart’s stroke quartet, which begins with the notes re – b-flat – salt (i.e. G major No. 156 according to the Koechel Catalog. – L. R.). “How do you know to play those three notes?” I asked him. He patiently took a sheet of paper, drew five lines and explained to me what each note means, placed on or between this or that line.

At the age of 4, he was bought a real violin, and Fritz independently picked up the national Austrian anthem on it. He began to be considered in the family as a small miracle, and his father began to give him music lessons.

How quickly he developed can be judged by the fact that the 7-year-old (in 1882) child prodigy was admitted to the Vienna Conservatory in the class of Joseph Helmesberger. Kreisler wrote in the Musical Courier in April 1908: “On this occasion, friends presented me with a half-size violin, delicate and melodious, of a very old brand. I was not entirely satisfied with it, because I thought that while studying at the conservatory I could have at least a three-quarter violin … “

Helmesberger was a good teacher and gave his pet a solid technical base. In the first year of his stay at the conservatory, Fritz made his stage debut, performing in a concert by the famous singer Carlotta Patti. He studied the beginnings of theory with Anton Bruckner and, in addition to the violin, devoted a lot of time to playing the piano. Now, few people know that Kreisler was an excellent pianist, freely playing even complex accompaniments from a sheet. They say that when Auer brought Heifetz to Berlin in 1914, both of them ended up in the same private house. The assembled guests, among whom was Kreisler, asked the boy to play something. “But what about the accompaniment?” Heifetz asked. Then Kreisler went to the piano and, as a memento, accompanied Mendelssohn’s Concerto and his own piece, The Beautiful Rosemary.

10-year-old Kreisler successfully graduated from the Vienna Conservatory with a gold medal; friends bought him a three-quarter violin by Amati. The boy, who had already dreamed of a whole violin, was again dissatisfied. At the family council at the same time, it was decided that in order to complete his musical education, Fritz needed to go to Paris.

In the 80s and 90s, the Paris Violin School was at its zenith. Marsik taught at the conservatory, who raised Thibault and Enescu, Massar, from whose class Venyavsky, Rys, Ondrichek came out. Kreisler was in the class of Joseph Lambert Massard, “I think that Massard loved me because I played in the style of Wieniawski,” he later admitted. At the same time, Kreisler studied composition with Leo Delibes. The clarity of the style of this master made itself felt later in the works of the violinist.

Graduating from the Paris Conservatoire in 1887 was a triumph. The 12-year-old boy won the first prize, competing with 40 violinists, each of whom was at least 10 years older than him.

Arriving from Paris to Vienna, the young violinist unexpectedly received an offer from the American manager Edmond Stenton to travel to the United States with pianist Moritz Rosenthal. The American tour took place during the 1888/89 season. On January 9, 1888, Kreisler made his debut in Boston. It was the first concert that actually launched his career as a concert violinist.

Returning to Europe, Kreisler temporarily left the violin in order to complete his general education. As a child, his father taught him general education subjects at home, teaching Latin, Greek, natural sciences and mathematics. Now (in 1889) he enters the Medical School at the University of Vienna. Plunging headlong into the study of medicine, he diligently studied with the largest professors. There is evidence that in addition he studied drawing (in Paris), studied art history (in Rome).

However, this period of his biography is not entirely clear. I. Yampolsky’s articles about Kreisler indicate that already in 1893 Kreisler came to Moscow, where he gave 2 concerts in the Russian Musical Society. None of the foreign works on the violinist, including Lochner’s monograph, contain these data.

In 1895-1896, Kreisler served his military service in the regiment of Archduke Eugene of Habsburg. The Archduke remembered the young violinist from his performances and used him at musical evenings as a soloist, as well as in the orchestra when staging amateur opera performances. Later (in 1900) Kreisler was promoted to the rank of lieutenant.

Freed from the army, Kreisler returned to musical activity. In 1896 he traveled to Turkey, then 2 years (1896-1898) lived in Vienna. You could often meet him in the cafe “Megalomania” – a kind of music club in the Austrian capital, where Hugo Wolf, Eduard Hanslick, Johann Brahms, Hugo Hofmannsthal gathered. Communication with these people gave Kreisler an unusually inquisitive mind. More than once later he recalled his meetings with them.

The path to glory was not easy. The peculiar manner of Kreisler’s performance, who plays so “unlike” other violinists, surprises and alarms the conservative Viennese public. Desperate, he even makes an attempt to enter the orchestra of the Royal Vienna Opera, but he is not accepted there either, allegedly “due to the lack of a sense of rhythm.” Fame comes only after the concerts of 1899. Arriving in Berlin, Kreisler unexpectedly performed with a triumphant success. The great Joachim himself is delighted with his fresh and unusual talent. Kreisler was talked about as the most interesting violinist of the era. In 1900, he was invited to America, and a trip to England in May 1902 consolidated his popularity in Europe.

It was a fun and carefree time of his artistic youth. By nature, Kreisler was a lively, sociable person, prone to jokes and humor. In 1900-1901 he toured America with cellist John Gerardi and pianist Bernhard Pollack. Friends constantly made fun of the pianist, as he was always nervous because of their manner of appearing in the artistic room at the last second, before going on stage. One day in Chicago, Pollak found that both of them were not in the art room. The hall was connected to the hotel where the three of them lived, and Pollak rushed to Kreisler’s apartment. He burst in without knocking and found the violinist and cellist lying on a large double bed, with blankets pulled up to their chins. They snored fortissimo in a terrible duet. “Hey, you’re both crazy! Pollack shouted. “The audience has gathered and is waiting for the concert to begin!”

– Let me sleep! roared Kreisler in Wagnerian dragon language.

Here is my peace of mind! groaned Gerardi.

With these words, they both turned on their other side and began to snore even more unmelodiously than before. Enraged, Pollack pulled off their blankets and found that they were in tailcoats. The concert started only 10 minutes late and the audience did not notice anything.

In 1902, a huge event happened in the life of Fritz Kreisler – he married Harriet Lyse (after her first husband, Mrs. Fred Wortz). She was a wonderful woman, smart, charming, sensitive. She became his most devoted friend, sharing his views and insanely proud of him. Until old age they were happy.

From the early 900s until 1941, Kreisler made numerous visits to America and traveled regularly throughout Europe. He is most closely associated with the United States and, in Europe, with England. In 1904, the London Musical Society awarded him a gold medal for his performance of the Beethoven Concerto. But spiritually, Kreisler is closest to France and in it are his French friends Ysaye, Thibault, Casals, Cortot, Casadesus and others. Kreisler’s attachment to French culture is organic. He often visits the Belgian estate of Ysaye, plays music at home with Thibaut and Casals. Kreisler admitted that Izai had a great artistic influence on him and that he borrowed a number of violin techniques from him. The fact that Kreisler turned out to be Izaya’s “heir” in terms of vibration has already been mentioned. But the main thing is that Kreisler is attracted by the artistic atmosphere that prevails in the circle of Ysaye, Thibaut, Casals, their romantically enthusiastic attitude to music, combined with a deep study of it. In communication with them, Kreisler’s aesthetic ideals are formed, the best and noble traits of his character are strengthened.

Before World War I, Kreisler was little known in Russia. He gave concerts here twice, in 1910 and 1911. In December 1910, he gave 2 concerts in St. Petersburg, but they went unnoticed, although they received a favorable review in the Music magazine (No. 3, p. 74). It was noted that his performance makes a deep impression with the strength of temperament and exceptional subtlety of phrasing. He played his own works, which at that time were still going on as adaptations of old plays.

A year later, Kreisler reappeared in Russia. During this visit, his concerts (December 2 and 9, 1911) already caused a much greater resonance. “Among our contemporary violinists,” the Russian critic wrote, “the name of Fritz Kreisler must be put in one of the first places. In his performances, Kreisler is much more an artist than a virtuoso, and the aesthetic moment always obscures in him the natural desire that all violinists have to show off their technique.” But this, according to the critic, prevents him from being appreciated by the “general public”, who are looking for “pure virtuosity” in any performer, which is much easier to perceive.

In 1905, Kreisler began to publish his works, venturing into the now widely known hoax. Among the publications were “Three Old Viennese Dances”, allegedly belonging to Joseph Lanner, and a series of “transcriptions” of plays by classics – Louis Couperin, Porpora, Punyani, Padre Martini, etc. Initially, he performed these “transcriptions” at his own concerts, then published and they quickly dispersed all over the world. There was no violinist who would not include them in his concert repertoire. Excellent-sounding, subtly stylized, they were highly regarded by both musicians and the public. As original “own” compositions, Kreisler simultaneously released Viennese salon plays, and criticism fell upon him more than once for the “bad taste” he showed in plays like “The Pangs of Love” or “Viennese Caprice”.

The hoax with the “classical” pieces continued until 1935, when Kreisler admitted to the New Times music critic Olin Dowen that the entire Classical Manuscripts series, with the exception of the first 8 bars in Louis XIII’s Ditto Louis Couperin, was written by him. According to Kreisler, the idea of ​​such a hoax came to his mind 30 years ago in connection with the desire to replenish his concert repertoire. “I found it would be embarrassing and tactless to keep repeating my own name in programs.” On another occasion, he explained the reason for the hoax by the severity with which the debuts of performing composers are usually treated. And as evidence, he cited an example of his own work, indicating how differently the “classical” plays and compositions signed with his name were evaluated – “Viennese Caprice”, “Chinese Tambourine”, etc.

The revelation of the hoax caused a storm. Ernst Neumann wrote a devastating article. A controversy erupted, described in detail in Lochner’s book, but … to this day, Kreisler’s “classical pieces” remain in the repertoire of violinists. Moreover, Kreisler was, of course, right when, objecting to Neumann, he wrote: “The names that I carefully chose were strictly unknown to the majority. Who ever heard a single work by Punyani, Cartier, Francoeur, Porpora, Louis Couperin, Padre Martini or Stamitz before I started composing under their name? They lived only in lists of paragraphs of documentary works; their works, if they exist, are slowly turning to dust in monasteries and old libraries.” Kreisler popularized their names in a peculiar way and undoubtedly contributed to the emergence of interest in violin music of the XNUMXth-XNUMXth centuries.

When the First World War began, the Kreislers were vacationing in Switzerland. Having canceled all contracts, including a tour of Russia with Kusevitsky, Kreisler hurried to Vienna, where he was enrolled as a lieutenant in the army. The news that the famous violinist had been sent to the battlefield caused a strong reaction in Austria and other countries, but without tangible consequences. Kreisler was left in the army. The regiment in which he served was soon transferred to the Russian front near Lvov. In September 1914, false news spread that Kreisler had been killed. In fact, he was wounded and this was the reason for his demobilization. Immediately, together with Harriet, he left for the United States. The rest of the time, while the war lasted, they lived there.

The post-war years were marked by active concert activity. America, England, Germany, again America, Czechoslovakia, Italy – it is impossible to enumerate the paths of the great artist. In 1923, Kreisler made a grand trip to the East, visiting Japan, Korea, and China. In Japan, he became passionately interested in works of painting and music. He even intended to use the intonations of Japanese art in his own work. In 1925 he traveled to Australia and New Zealand, from there to Honolulu. Until the mid-30s, he was perhaps the most popular violinist in the world.

Kreisler was an ardent anti-fascist. He sharply condemned the persecution suffered in Germany by Bruno Walter, Klemperer, Busch, and categorically refused to go to this country “until the right of all artists, regardless of their origin, religion and nationality, to practice their art becomes unchanged in Germany fact.” So he wrote in a letter to Wilhelm Furtwängler.

With anxiety, he follows the spread of fascism in Germany, and when Austria is forcibly annexed to the fascist Reich, he passes (in 1939) into French citizenship. During World War II, Kreisler lived in the United States. All his sympathies were on the side of the anti-fascist armies. During this period, he still gave concerts, although the years were already beginning to make themselves felt.

April 27, 1941, while crossing the street in New York, he was hit by a truck. For many days the great artist was between life and death, in delirium he did not recognize those around him. However, fortunately, his body coped with the disease, and in 1942 Kreisler was able to return to concert activity. His last performances took place in 1949. However, for a long time after leaving the stage, Kreisler was in the center of attention of the musicians of the world. They communicated with him, consulted as with a pure, incorruptible “conscience of art.”

Kreisler entered the history of music not only as a performer, but also as an original composer. The main part of his creative heritage is a series of miniatures (about 45 plays). They can be divided into two groups: one consists of miniatures in the Viennese style, the other – plays imitating the classics of the 2th-2th centuries. Kreisler tried his hand in large form. Among his major works are 1917 bow quartets and 1932 operettas “Apple Blossom” and “Zizi”; the first was composed in 11, the second in 1918. The premiere of “Apple Blossom” took place on November 1932, XNUMX in New York, “Zizi” – in Vienna in December XNUMX. Kreisler’s operettas were a huge success.

Kreisler owns many transcriptions (over 60!). Some of them are designed for an unprepared audience and children’s performances, while others are brilliant concert arrangements. Elegance, colorfulness, violinism provided them with exceptional popularity. At the same time, we can talk about the creation of transcriptions of a new type, free in terms of processing style, originality and typically “Kreisler” sound. Its transcriptions include various works by Schumann, Dvorak, Granados, Rimsky-Korsakov, Cyril Scott and others.

Another kind of creative activity is free editorial. These are Paganini’s variations (“The Witch”, “J Palpiti”), “Foglia” by Corelli, Tartini’s Variations on a theme by Corelli in the processing and editing of Kreisler, etc. His legacy includes cadenzas to concertos by Beethoven, Brahms, Paganini, Tartini’s sonata devil.”

Kreisler was an educated person – he knew Latin and Greek perfectly, he read the Iliad by Homer and Virgil in the originals. How much he towered above the general level of violinists, to put it mildly, not too high at that time, can be judged by his dialogue with Misha Elman. Seeing the Iliad on his desk, Elman asked Kreisler:

– Is that in Hebrew?

No, in Greek.

– This is good?

– Highly!

– Is it available in English?

– Of course.

Comments, as they say, are superfluous.

Kreisler retained a sense of humor throughout his life. Once, – says Elman, – I asked him: which of the violinists he heard made the strongest impression on him? Kreisler answered without hesitation: Venyavsky! With tears in his eyes, he immediately began to vividly describe his game, and in such a way that Elman also welled up with tears. Returning home, Elman looked into Grove’s dictionary and … made sure that Venyavsky died when Kreisler was only 5 years old.

On another occasion, turning to Elman, Kreisler began to assure him quite seriously, without a shadow of a smile, that when Paganini played double harmonics, some of them played the violin, while others whistled. For persuasiveness, he demonstrated how Paganini did it.

Kreisler was very kind and generous. He gave away most of his fortune to charitable causes. After a concert at the Metropolitan Opera on March 27, 1927, he donated all the proceeds, which amounted to a substantial amount of $ 26, to the American Cancer League. After World War I, he took care of 000 orphans of his comrades-in-arms; Arriving in Berlin in 43, he invited 1924 of the poorest children to the Christmas party. 60 appeared. “My business is going well!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands.

His concern for people was completely shared by his wife. At the end of World War II, Kreisler sent bales of food from America to Europe. Some of the bales were stolen. When this was reported to Harriet Kreisler, she remained very calm: after all, even the one who stole did it, in her opinion, to feed his family.

Already an old man, on the eve of leaving the stage, that is, when it was already difficult to count on replenishing his capital, he sold the most valuable library of manuscripts and various relics that he had collected with love throughout his life for 120 thousand 372 dollars and divided this money between two charitable American organizations. He constantly helped his relatives, and his attitude towards colleagues can be called truly chivalrous. When Joseph Segeti first came to the United States in 1925, he was indescribably surprised by the benevolent attitude of the public. It turns out that before his arrival, Kreisler published an article in which he presented him as the best violinist coming from abroad.

He was very simple, loved simplicity in others and did not shy away from the common people at all. He passionately wanted his art to reach everyone. One day, says Lochner, in one of the English ports, Kreisler disembarked from a steamer to continue his journey by train. It was a long wait, and he decided that it would be good to kill time if he gave a small concert. In the cold and sad room of the station, Kreisler took a violin out of its case and played for the customs officers, coal miners, and dockers. When he finished, he expressed the hope that they liked his art.

Kreisler’s benevolence towards young violinists can only be compared with Thibaut’s benevolence. Kreisler sincerely admired the successes of the young generation of violinists, believed that many of them had achieved, if not genius, then the mastery of Paganini. However, his admiration, as a rule, referred only to technique: “They are able to easily play everything that is written the most difficult for the instrument, and this is a great achievement in the history of instrumental music. But from the point of view of interpretive genius and that mysterious force which is the radioactivity of a great performer, in this respect our age is not very different from other ages.”

Kreisler inherited from the 29th century a generosity of heart, a romantic faith in people, in lofty ideals. In his art, as Pencherl well said, there was nobility and persuasive charm, Latin clarity and the usual Viennese sentimentality. Of course, in the compositions and performance of Kreisler, much no longer met the aesthetic requirements of our time. Much belonged to the past. But we must not forget that his art constituted a whole epoch in the history of world violin culture. That is why the news of his death on January 1962, XNUMX plunged musicians all over the world into deep sadness. A great artist and a great man, whose memory will remain for centuries, has passed away.

L. Raaben