From the ARCHIVE

Carl Fuchs pays tribute to his friend and fellow cellist Carl Davidoff (1838–89), including a reminiscence of how he acquired his famed Stradivari cello

FROM THE STRAD

MARCH 1892

VOL.2 NO.23

The way in which Davidoff became possessed of his wonderful Stradivarius violoncello was a very strange one. The late Czar, Alexander II, used to give musical entertainments at his palace. On one occasion Rubinstein, Wieniawsky, and Davidoff were present.

A certain Count Wielhorsky (noted for his love of art and his absent-mindedness), received the artistes, when Davidoff at once noticed that the Count was very nervous and excited. Asking what the matter was, Davidoff received the following answer:

“Today I celebrate my seventieth birthday, and in a way of my own, I present you with my Stradivarius violoncello.” Davidoff took this for a joke, but he very soon found out that the Count was quite in earnest.

After the first trio the emperor spoke to Wieniawsky, remarking upon the lovely tone of his violin, and asking him what make it was. “A Stradivarius, your Majesty,” was Wieniawsky’s answer, whereupon the emperor remarked to Wielhorsky “You have also a Strad, have you not?” The count said, “No, your Majesty, I used to have one, but I gave it to-night to Carl Davidoff.”

The new owner of the violoncello now saw that the count had indeed not been joking. Wielhorsky had bought the instrument for the sum of 50,000 francs (£2000), and in addition to two beautiful horses.

It is hardly necessary to say much about Davidoff’s artistic qualities. Whoever heard him will never forget the impression he made. It was wonderful how in him were united all the qualities necessary to make a great musician: wonderful tone, brilliant execution, great warmth and exquisite phrasing. His talent was so versatile that he played equally well Schumann’s ’cello-concerto. He was also possessed of a magnificent gift of teaching, encouraging his pupils and finding out their weak points at once. Once he said to me, “The more difficult a piece is, the easier it must sound. When I was your age I found it just as easy to play my Russian Fantasia (one of the most difficult pieces for the ’cello) as to eat a piece of bread and butter.”

He laid great stress on the art of practising. I remember very well, when I was staying with him at a small village in Thuringia how, as I was one day practising a passage from one of his concertos–the windows of my room being open–Davidoff, passing at the moment, heard me and sent for me.

“My dear fellow,” said he, “you must not waste your precious time in such a way. Why do you always repeat the whole of the ten notes of the passage? Practise only these two notes, which form the difficulty. When you know them you will find the whole passage child’s play.”

UWE ARENS