The Evolution of the Art of Cello Playing: An Overview

Although the cello should be considered a descendent of the viola da braccio family, not the viola da gamba, we must still regard the gamba as the predecessor of the cello, in a certain sense. It continued to play an important role well into Rococo times as a solo instrument.

With the death of the Rococo era, interest in the gamba also died out. Its delicate, dynamically limited tone no longer satisfied the demands of the times. Musical taste had changed, calling for more vocal expression and power. So it happened that the cello, which had long existed without a recognized name, slowly but surely gained ground. Only with great difficulty could many players break free from the old tradition. Since gamba literature was available but no longer satisfied the limited gamba range, some players tried to take refuge in a gamba-like cello tuned in fifths or sixths. These attempts remained isolated, however, and the four-stringed instrument gradually gained more followers until it had completely triumphed over its rival.

The cello’s transformation into a solo instrument could only be accomplished when it was initially used as a bass to support the continuo in the middle of the eighteenth century.^[1]

Even if “solos” were already being played on the instruments commonly used at the time, such as those built between 1550 and 1600 by the older Amati, Gasparo da Salò, and Maggini, among others (Riemann lists the solo literature for cello as beginning with Domenico Gabrielli’s Ricercari, composed or published in 1689), one can hardly speak of proper solo playing according to our current concepts. Players still lacked knowledge of the thumb position, and they still held and used the bow like gambists (see the picture of the young Teniers).

Quantz (1697-1773) also speaks of “solo playing” in his textbook for flute and general musicianship, On Playing the Flute (1752). Among other things, he says: “Solo playing on this instrument (cello) is really no easy matter” and recommends a smaller cello for solo playing than for “ripieno playing (accompaniment) in large musical works.” He further claims to have heard some “great masters” who had “performed near miracles on this instrument.”

A fairly widespread view holds that the Frenchmen Corrette, author of the first cello method published in 1741^[2], and J. L. Duport (1749-1819), creator of modern cello technique,^[3] were the reformers of cello playing. We certainly owe them our gratitude, since they were the first to establish a cello methodology. It was especially Duport, whose fundamental principles still hold true today, who had a groundbreaking effect by clearly founding, expanding, and refining cello technique. This applies not only to the left hand but also to bowing.^[4]

Whether any cellist before him used the thumb as a playing finger and had modified his bow grip is difficult to verify, but hardly credible. Berteau (1700-1773), who is generally regarded in France as the true founder of the French school, had already achieved a sensational success as a cellist during a concert appearance in Paris in 1739, which certainly suggests virtuosic playing.

Consider also the brilliant Boccherini (1743-1805), whose works (first published in 1768) already demonstrate his virtuosity and show that he employed both thumb position and a bow hold corresponding to modern concepts.

As with many discoveries and improvements in scientific and technical fields, several people were probably working simultaneously on the progressive development of cello technique here as well, without any single individual being designated as the “inventor” of the innovations in question. Such things are naturally in the air; they work inevitably and represent evolutionary phenomena.

However it may be, one thing is certain: the great evolution in virtuoso cello playing could only begin after gamba bow technique was abandoned and the cello bow was created by F. Tourte,^[5] thumb position came into general use, and Antonio Stradivari had definitively established the dimensions of the cello’s body. This was a great upheaval! The path was now clear for a virtuosity that should undergo a development over time that the violin could not match.

As milestones along this path, we find the names of the great representatives of the cello up to the present day. All of them, regardless of their nationality, have contributed to the development of cello technique.

But they advanced the art not merely through their virtuoso playing alone, but primarily through their compositions, in which they recorded their characteristic innovations that expanded technique. We need only think of the magnificent trio Romberg (1767-1841), Servais (1807-1866), and Davidoff (1838-1889), the most brilliant figures on the developmental path, whose compositions have exerted the greatest influence on the cello world.

The core of Romberg’s compositions consists of his ten concertos (the tenth in E major, Op. 75, possibly a posthumous work that Grützmacher seems to have somewhat retouched, is less well known); they represent the best training material especially for the left hand. The realization that the fourth finger should be used with the same facility as the other fingers can be credited primarily to Romberg. Through the equality of all fingers, we first achieve technical independence in thumb positions. Every initiate knows that the cellist who cannot fluently use the fourth finger in thumb positions cannot solve certain technical problems satisfactorily.

Romberg’s left-hand technique must have been phenomenal. The instructions for the left hand laid down in his method, based more on proper intuition than on knowledge, remain largely valid even for those examining them with a scientific probe—down to the hand positions in the lower registers.

The same cannot be said of his bowing technique to the same degree. The bow-holding theory he advocated is very unfavorable. From a physiological standpoint, it may even be called incorrect; it must impair mobility and independence. This also explains why Romberg loved neither staccato nor spiccato! We find these bow strokes hardly at all in his compositions, their variants only rarely.

On this subject he expresses himself in his method as follows regarding staccato: “since the cellist has too little opportunity to practice staccato, it would be harmful if he wanted to spoil his pure bow guidance through practicing staccato. I would forbid it entirely!”

Regarding the off-the-string arpeggio stroke: “I opposed this study because it makes the arm stiff, which is certainly contrary to beautiful playing, as already mentioned above”—evidence of how alien he was to these bow strokes and how little he may have mastered them… He did show particular mastery, however, in long bow strokes (i.e. in slurs over many measures), which he frequently employed. But this naturally had to cost his performance power and grandeur.

Now, as we have shown, if we owe the development of the left hand primarily to Romberg, then the brilliant Servais brought us, besides the expansion of bow technique, the “grand style”: the striving for sonorous, rich tone and brilliance of figurework. In his numerous effective, musically uncomplicated compositions, we frequently find imposing, dramatic passages—though he unfortunately sometimes carried this to bombastic extremes!

Servais’ genius lay in his ability to create an extremely effective technique through skillful and far-reaching exploitation of the so-called “favorable” mechanical possibilities—a technique that often concealed its imposing, apparently enormous difficulty behind a deceptively simple appearance, without being (compared with Romberg’s or Davidoff’s) truly very difficult.

However, he set decidedly more challenging bow problems than Romberg. We need only recall the famous tremolo-stroke variation in his Fantasie on Schubert’s “Sehnsuchts-Walzer” and the staccato variation in the “Barber of Seville Fantasy.”^[6]

Servais’ success was enormous. He had no equal rival—no wonder the public saw him as the “Paganini of the cello”…

The legitimate heir of both his great predecessors was Davidoff. He combined the virtues of both and built further upon their achievement, but transformed them, in keeping with the spirit of the times, toward a deepening musical expression.

In his compositions (besides a series of orchestral and chamber works, he wrote four concertos, a fantasy, and a number of smaller pieces) a different spirit already prevails. Despite their virtuoso nature, particularly in the concertos, these works set brilliant and sometimes quite challenging tasks for the player, yet they don’t create the impression of shallow virtuosity. Here we recognize an important stage in the progressive development of composition.

Davidoff’s art represents a peak of universal ability that has remained unattained to this day. His nobly blossoming, warm tone, his sovereign technique combined with great intelligence that, enhanced by comprehensive education, could create that certainty of taste we understand as “reliable stylistic sense.” Whether Davidoff interpreted classical or modern music, whether he performed as a soloist or chamber musician, his delivery always captivated through spirit, warmth, and the most refined musicality.

Perhaps we may therefore regard Davidoff as the awakener of musical-aesthetic consciousness in the field of cello playing…

That he also made significant contributions as a pedagogue cannot be disputed based on what has been said; yet among his numerous, partly outstanding students, none was found who had sufficient talent and character to continue his spiritual legacy further…

To list all the names of those who, besides those mentioned, participated in the construction and development of cello technique is not intended here, but Dotzauer, Piatti, Franchomme, F. Grützmacher Sr., Cossmann, Popper, and Klengel should be mentioned, as considerable achievements in this field must also be attributed to them. Popper in particular created a new element—the light, graceful, cheerful. He himself boasted of being “the first to have written enjoyable solo pieces for cello.” The cellist’s psyche was undoubtedly liberated from the previously prevailing melancholy that had prevailed until then through his influence!

Klengel wrote specialized literature for the cello that represents a pinnacle of technical difficulty alongside its musical merit.

Here is a peculiar but well-founded phenomenon: every inventor in the field of instrumental technique receives a natural gift for translating his characteristic ideas and achievements into musical form. He brings them to bear on the “immeasurable realm.” For such virtuosos, what matters primarily is “conquering the world”! The musical significance or sheer number of such works is less important than what’s novel and original in their technical methods. These innovations are then transformed by refined, cultivated virtuosos into tools of expression. In this way they serve the higher art and help complete the palette available to the professional composer.^[7]

Sometimes technical curiosities are attempted, such as trying to play Paganini’s Perpetuum Mobile on the cello in its original form. This sort of thing belongs more in the circus than in the concert hall. While these feats may be quite interesting and beneficial for the performer himself, they never have nearly as great an influence on musical development as even Goltermann’s Concerto in A minor did in its time. We can see how necessary this concerto was for the cello world of that era from a letter Servais wrote to Goltermann. He concluded: “In this work, I recognize some difficult passages in the concerto because of their ‘unplayability’! (Sic!)”^[8] Today’s generation of cellists would hardly find this believable, and from this we can clearly see the progress that has been made.^[9]

Cello technique had thus risen to a barely surpassable height over time. Yet it showed itself more or less only in mastering so-called bravura pieces and in the technical reliability and precision needed to meet virtuosic demands. Until then, barely any isolated approaches could be observed toward intellectualizing the material, toward dematerializing sound even in passages, or toward resolving meaningful asymmetries in dynamics and rhythm.

A notable exception in recent times is Pablo Casals’ playing, which has elevated his colleagues’ musical and sonic standards to remarkable heights.

It’s astonishing to observe how little most  cellists today still demand of themselves, even in part. Instead of striving for the true goal—complete mastery through mechanical independence—which alone clears the path for a warm-blooded, intellectually elevated, logical presentation, the player usually gets lost in the confusions of mindless pyrotechnics or saccharine sentimentality. Only someone who has managed to let his inner powers work to their fullest capacity—someone for whom mechanical independence has become second nature—can master all the registers, from the heroic to the transcendent! And only then can those achievements emerge that inspire contemporary composers to new deeds…

The myth that the cello is burdensome to play—that it is not a solo instrument in the sense of the piano or violin—will then disappear. The coming generation may already be ready to make this transformation.

But let us not deceive ourselves: solo playing on the cello is still “not exactly an easy matter” even today!