rubato effects. The truth is that he was all the while simply playing
mathematically out of time. Rubato ("robbed") is a slight modification
of rhythmic flow in alternation with a corresponding compensation; it is
like excitement in verbal narrative; it is alternately losing and
making up, but within judicious bounds, so that in the end the balance
is preserved. The nature of music is essentially "tune and time"--in
other words, emotion and intelligence, or heart and head, in loving and
well-balanced combination. These conditions are absolute and can never
be violated without disaster. Hence a true rubato must be played in
time, but accommodatingly.
UNUSUAL PUPILS--TRANSPOSING--POSITIVE AND RELATIVE PITCH
I once gave to an intelligent pupil the task of transposing one of
Bach's inventions into various keys. My directions were that at her next
lesson she should be prepared to play it successively in three or four
different keys. As she came to my studio for her lesson but once a
month, there was ample time for preparation, and she succeeded in
accomplishing the feat with ease and without error. But, more than this,
she continued her transposing until she had completed the round of all
the twelve keys without a mistake--a rare and creditable performance,
deserving the emulation of all young ladies and gentlemen engaged in the
study of musical development and the cultivation of pianoforte technic.
Another case is that of a young lady pupil not remarkably musical, but
who has an ear for positive pitch. By this is meant that she could
immediately name the pitch of any tone on hearing it sung or played. All
competent musicians possess the power of relative pitch. I mean by this
that if a definite pitch is given to one who has a musical ear, the
pitch of any other tone immediately following or sounding in connection
will be instantly perceived, and the interval between the two tones--in
other words, their pitch relationship--at once understood.
[Illustration: THE STUDIO IN THE STEINWAY BUILDING--WEST SIDE]
The power of positive pitch has been regarded by many as a very
desirable gift, but judging from the experience of the pupil of whom I
am writing, it would appear to be just the other way. This young
lady, to whom I had also given the task of transposition into various
keys, complained, on coming for her next lesson, that the effect upon
her was very disagreeable, in fact, extremely painful. She explained
that she was obliged to look at the music on the pianoforte-desk while
transposing, and that on account of her quick perception of positive
pitch she heard in companionship both the tones of the original key and
those of the key to which she was transposing, thus producing a jargon
and discord which was distressing. This at first seemed very strange to
me, indeed almost incredible, but not having an ear for positive pitch
myself, either by nature or through cultivation, I could not judge from
personal experience, so, having confidence in her sincerity, simply gave
her assertion credence.
Later on, however, her statement received confirmation through the
authentic testimony of a German musician and conductor of high eminence.
At the time this gentleman came to our country, somewhat over fifteen
years ago, the standard of concert pitch was slightly lower in Europe
than with us. Since then it has been adjusted and is now uniform the
world over. This discrepancy caused our German friend extreme annoyance,
for having an acute and delicate perception of positive pitch, it pained
and confused him to hear the familiar symphonies and other works of the
great masters played in a higher pitch than that to which he had become
accustomed. This is, therefore, the penalty for an ear for positive
pitch.
Some of the greatest musicians have possessed this faculty, notably
Mozart, but others of equal rank were without it. Of course a musical
ear of the most delicate sensibility as to relative pitch is common to
all of them, and this by the grace of God, as the Germans happily
express it.
Another case is that of a lady having by nature an ear for positive
pitch, who occasionally attends church with me. She is constantly
disturbed by the difference of pitch between the tones of the organ and
the pitch indicated by the notes of the tones in the hymn-book. She
reasons that either the tones of the organ are above standard pitch or
else the organist transposes the music. At any rate, the two vary by the
interval of a semitone.
Theodore Thomas is not only able to detect the disagreement, but at the
same time perceives whether it is by reason of transposition from the
original key or on account of the tones of the organ differing from
standard pitch.
APPLEDORE, ISLES OF SHOALS
MY first visit to Appledore was in August, 1863, two of my brothers
having discovered the island, so to speak, the year before. We were
enthusiastic fishermen, and during our summer vacation almost lived on
the ocean. Furthermore, during almost the entire year I was engaged in
teaching or in public appearances as a concert-player, so that in my
vacation I detested the very sight or even thought of a pianoforte.
Appledore afforded an ideal retreat where retirement verging almost on
oblivion was possible, and thus it happened that I had spent many
summers there before my musical vocation was brought to light.
A few years later my friend Professor John K. Paine of Harvard
University also discovered the Shoals, and from that time came year
after year without intermission. After a year or two he had a piano sent
down from Boston for the summer and placed in the reception-room in
Celia Thaxter's cottage. I had the pleasure of Mrs. Thaxter's
acquaintance, but up to that time simply in a formal way, and beyond a
call on my arrival and one on taking leave, I had little association
with her; Professor Paine, however, quickly formed a habit of playing
Beethoven's sonatas to her, and she very shortly showed a delight in
music, and especially in Beethoven's sonatas, with which she became
quite familiar. In the year 1864 Isidor Eichberg accompanied my brothers
and myself to the island, and that led, still later on, to Mr. Julius
Eichberg's becoming an habitue of the island. He brought his violin with
him, and with Mr. Paine frequently played compositions of Bach for piano
and violin. Finally I was drawn into the current, and played, with
Eichberg, Schumann's and other sonatas. As I grew older I gave less time
to fishing. Moreover, whereas I had formerly spent only a couple of
weeks or so at the island, I now began to go early in July and stay
until September, so that in the nature of things I could not fish all
the time, and gradually formed a habit of playing in Mrs. Thaxter's
cottage every day from eleven o'clock in the morning until the arrival
of the boat, about an hour and a half later.
Hers was an interesting and enthusiastic nature, which attracted to her
many literary and artistic people. She held, in a most charming and
informal way, what may really be called a salon. The walls of her parlor
were covered with paintings and pictures of all kinds, many of them the
work and gifts of personal friends. As she herself expressed it, "a
beautiful thought was always suggested whenever and wherever she
looked."
Her love of flowers amounted almost to a passion, and no expenditure of
time or strength given to garden work was grudged, even when the effort
of very early rising was involved. And when did garden ever better repay
the personal love and care of the gardener? Where were ever seen such
radiant, waving poppies, such hundred-hued pansies, such stately and
brilliant hollyhocks, and such fragrant sweet peas? And upon entering
the parlor, it seemed as if one had hardly left the garden, so many and
so beautiful were the masses of flowers.
As I have said, Mrs. Thaxter was very fond of music, and every morning
welcomed those of her friends who shared this taste to hear any artist
who might be on the island.
It was my pleasure, being so much at Appledore, to play a great deal in
these informal ways. The doors wide open to the sun and salt breezes,
the people sitting in the room and grouped on the piazza, shaded by its
lovely vines, the beautiful vistas of gaily colored flowers, sea and sky
beyond, made a charming and ever-to-be-remembered scene.
Chopin and Schumann were the favorite composers, their compositions
being constantly requested. After a while I enlarged the repertoire by
introducing several of Edward MacDowell's smaller works. These found
immediate favor. Some half-dozen years ago, having become acquainted
with and thoroughly enthusiastic over the "Sonata Tragica" of this
composer, I began to play it early in the summer on arriving at the
Shoals. At first the audience was somewhat reserved in the expression of
an opinion, but after a few hearings the composition found friends who
really appreciated and enjoyed it. Being curious to ascertain what
result a closer acquaintanceship with the work would bring about, and
wishing to do some missionary work, I formed the resolution of playing
it once a day during the season, and announced my intention to the
audience. With but the exception of a few days, the scheme was carried
out, and with gratifying success, for the "Sonata Tragica" became
eventually the favorite of the majority, and it was constantly called
for.
One or two ladies who found it tedious at the outset became thorough
converts, and finally experienced genuine musical enjoyment from it. On
the publication of the "Sonata Eroica" a few years later a similar
result was reached, but not in the same degree as in the case of the
"Tragica."
This incident is related to illustrate the remarkable effect of musical
surroundings and the great advantage of living in a musical atmosphere.
Here were people of intelligence and culture who, under adverse
circumstances, would not have appreciated the beauty of these
intellectual works, but who after closer association were led to
perceive their beauty and who learned to love them.
Sundays were celebrated by the playing of Beethoven's sonatas. Every
one seemed to look forward to and enjoy these pleasant mornings. Mrs.
Thaxter was a delightful hostess, and possessed the rare quality of
bringing out the best in those about her.
During the summer of 1894 Mrs. Thaxter seemed as well and active as
usual, still working in her garden, still the lively center of her group
of friends and admirers. One day she did not appear, nor the next, and
then we heard she had peacefully passed away.
None who were at Appledore then will easily forget that 26th of August,
nor the day she was buried on her island home.
The funeral service was held in the well-known sitting-room; the address
was made by her old friend the Rev. Dr. James De Normandie, and, by
request of her sons, I played Schumann's "Romance in F Sharp," and
Dvo[^r]ak's "Holy Mount,"
The tides of Music's golden sea
Setting toward Eternity.
When the simple service was over the coffin was followed by her old and
faithful friends and the island fishermen to the grave by that of her
father and mother. The long procession of people, through the gray mist,
winding in and out along the rocky way, the leaden sky and sea, the
hushed voices of the children, usually ringing out so merrily from rocks
and hotel piazzas, accentuated the sense of our loss.
At the grave, all lined with bayberry and flowers, the coffin was
lowered, and each of those present came forward and laid upon it a few
of the flowers she loved so dearly.
MUSIC IN AMERICA TO-DAY
A year or two ago a young lady came to my studio and asked for a single
lesson. She told me that she had been studying in Germany for some
years, and named the city, which is one of the well-known musical
centers. She was then going to the West on her way home, and stopped a
day over in New York expressly for a lesson from me. I heard her play
several pieces, and was surprised and pleased with her manner and style.
She phrased with intelligence and gave due attention to rhythmic
requirements. Her tone was large, full, and musically resonant, and
could not have been produced otherwise than through the agency of the
upper-arm muscles, which were constantly in active use. The flexibility
and elasticity of hands and wrists were also apparent, and finally the
evident repose in action of all of these qualities capped the climax. I
said to her: "My dear young lady, I cannot add to your playing, for it
is already finished and artistic. I might possibly suggest a different
rendering in certain parts, but, after all, this would amount only to a
matter of taste. If you had studied exclusively under my guidance for a
course of years, and I had succeeded in doing my best, aided by your own
intelligence and careful practice, I should have sought to bring about
just the result which you have reached. I think your teacher must be a
young man." "He is," she replied; "but why?" "Because," I answered, "his
method is free from the stiffness and rigidity of the old German school.
Has he, perhaps, a method of his own?" Her immediate reply was, "He uses
your method." She also told me her teacher's name, which I have now
unfortunately forgotten. I think this teacher deserves to have more
pupils!
But the time has gone by when it was necessary for students of the piano
to go abroad to complete a musical education. There are now teachers of
the piano of the first rank in all of our principal cities, who secure
better results with American pupils than foreign teachers do, because
they have a better understanding of our national character and
temperament. Such men among my own former pupils are E. M. Bowman in New
York, S. S. Sanford in New Haven, W. S. B. Matthews and William H.
Sherwood in Chicago, and many others who are distinguished in their
profession as teachers, and who have done and are doing much in
furtherance of sound musical education and in the cultivation of a
refined, musical taste in America. Our country has also produced
composers of the first rank, and the names MacDowell, Parker, Kelley,
Whiting, Paine, Buck, Shelley, Chadwick, Brockway, and Foote occur at
once to the mind. Enormous progress in the art and science of music has
been made in America since I began my studies in Germany in the year
1849. Our teachers meet in great numbers in convention during the summer
months and in summer schools and classes, and it is difficult to
overestimate the beneficent results which flow from these assemblies.
They create a musical atmosphere, in which teachers and pupils live and
move and have their being. They afford opportunities for the intelligent
discussion of mooted questions and for the interchange of ideas, and
lead to a wider dissemination of the best educational methods.
[Illustration: Autograph of Kneisel Quartet]
Harvard, Yale, Columbia, and Princeton all have their chairs of music,
and doubtless this is true of others of our universities and colleges.
The city of New York has become one of the great musical centers of the
world. The Philharmonic Society, the opera season, the Kneisel Quartet,
and many others of high artistic merit, afford opportunities for the
gratification of musical taste which are hardly to be excelled
elsewhere; and the popularity of these and of the countless pianoforte
recitals and chamber-music concerts bears eloquent testimony to the
growth of an intelligent musical taste among us. Boston and Chicago have
their world-renowned orchestras, led by Gericke and Thomas, who are
passed masters of their art. The cities of Pittsburg, Cincinnati, and
St. Louis have their orchestras, each under competent leadership. The
most celebrated artists at home and from abroad are heard in our
principal cities. The season just closed (1900-01) is in striking
contrast to those of my early manhood. Among the many prominent pianists
who have played to us there are some of extraordinary talent, who give
abundant promise of brilliant future achievement.
Ernst von Dohnanyi, born at Pressburg, July 27, 1877, is a wonderfully
talented musical composer and at the same time a pianist whose technic
is complete, combining as it does the emotional, intelligent, and
mechanical elements in happy union and adjustment. Von Dohnanyi has by
nature as intense, thorough, and complete a musical organization as
ever came within my experience. He composes with marvelous spontaneity
and rapidity. His ideas are fresh and original, and their expression and
elaboration are effected with the freedom of an improvisation, thus in
no way emphasizing their mechanical setting forth.
He is just completing, in the twenty-fourth year of his age, an
elaborate symphony in D minor for grand orchestra, the scheme of which
is as follows: I. Allegro; II. Adagio; III. Scherzo; IV. Intermezzo; V.
Finale: Introduction, Tema con Variazioni; Fuga.
This is a massive production, apparently the result of inherent
qualities carried into act by impulse, in other words, of spontaneous
achievement. It is so instinctive and impulsive that the art of its
construction hardly occurs to the hearer at first, but as an
afterthought excites wonder and admiration.
Early in March of the present year (1901), Von Dohnanyi, his wife, and a
few other friends, among them Emil Pauer, dined at my house, and during
the evening Von Dohnanyi played his symphony on the pianoforte. This
instrument is naturally quite inadequate to the interpretation of such a
work, but Von Dohnanyi's technic is so complete, his tone so massive
while intensely musical, and his enthusiasm so contagious that we became
conscious of an ever-increasing interest, steadily growing in intensity.
The occasion and its experience will not be forgotten by any of those
present.
A week later the Von Dohnanyis spent the evening with us just before
their departure on the following day for Europe, and he played again a
portion of the work, deepening and confirming the impression made at the
first hearing. The future of this young man is full of promise. His
teacher in composition was Hans Koessler in Pesth; his pianoforte
teacher was Stephen Thoman of the same city. Later on he had eight
lessons of Eugen d'Albert in Berlin, after which the latter said to him:
"You can go on by yourself now; I have taught you all I can."
Leopold Godowsky is a pianist of the first class, but above all he is a
specialist, and altogether unapproachable in his specialty. His left
hand is in every respect the equal of his right, and passages of extreme
intricacy and rapidity come out with an astonishing clearness of detail.
Nothing in his work, however minute, is slighted, but musical expression
and finish of execution are above criticism. His specialty is his
rearrangement and working up of many of Chopin's Etudes in such manner
that several of the various themes of these are, so to speak,
intertwined. In some instances three different melodies can be heard
progressing simultaneously in loving union, with a smoothness, delicacy,
and accuracy in counterpoint which is simply marvelous. There is never a
suspicion of haste in his playing, no matter how rapid the rate of
speed. His manner is full of repose--respectful, earnest, and
sympathetic; thus there is no suggestion of violence to the composer's
original production.
I know that among my best friends, whose judgment I esteem, there are
some who do not hold the same opinion, and who think that the
composer's work should be left intact. It seems to me, however, that
much depends upon the manner of treatment. The French proverb runs: "Il
y a fagots et fagots"; or, in the more homely phrase of dear old Boston,
"There are beans, and then there are beans." Moreover, the fact that
these compositions are etudes (studies), and therefore avowedly for the
purpose of developing physical technic as well as poetic style, should
be duly considered in judging of their _raison d'etre_. Similar
treatment of the sonatas, ballades, and nocturnes would surely be a
different thing. Furthermore, the solid and dignified Brahms--one of the
three B's of Bulow's trinity--set an example, by rearranging a rondo by
Von Weber, which he turns upside down, so to speak, making a bass of
what in the original is the right-hand part. Brahms has also utterly
destroyed the charm of Chopin's "Etude in F Minor, Op. 25, No. 2," which
lies in the very rapid and delicately pianissimo playing of passages of
triplets in the right hand as against duals in the left. In the original
these passages are throughout of single tones in both hands, and hence
can be performed in the most dainty and fascinating manner; but Brahms
has changed the right hand part to double thirds and; sixths, thus
completely altering the character of the music, and doing violence to
the exquisitely light, delicate, and graceful effect of the original
version. In passing judgment upon the work of Brahms, however, it must
not be forgotten that he publishes this in company with several other
arrangements, under the general title, "Studien fur das Pianoforte,"
thus indicating that his object is the development of physical technic.
In this connection, I remember Rubinstein's telling me as long ago as
1873, in the artists' retiring-room during one of his recitals at
Steinway Hall, that he used in his boyhood's days "to do all sorts of
things with Chopin's etudes," as he expressed it, "in order to exercise
and strengthen the fingers." By way of illustration, he went to an
upright piano which happened to be in the room, and began playing with
his left hand alone the right-hand part of the chromatic-scale etude;
"Op. 10, No. 2," and this he did with fluency.
Godowsky has played his arrangements to me on several occasions at my
studio and at home _en famille_, and has invariably produced a state of
happy good humor which was of long duration and which in large measure
returns to me as I write.
April 20, 1901. Yesterday evening I attended the farewell concert of
Ossip Gabrilowitsch, the talented young Russian pianist. He was at his
best, and proved his right to stand in the front rank of modern
pianists. His playing throughout of a program of compositions of
Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, and Liszt was masterly, combining as it did
genuine musical quality, intelligence in phrasing, and great brilliancy,
as well as poetry in interpretation. He is yet a young man and has not
reached the full climax of his power, and will doubtless show still
further development in the next few years. Other pianists who have
played in New York during the season of 1900-01, and who deserve to be
classed with the highest, are Harold Bauer, who has deservedly won a
very high reputation through his splendid ability in all styles of piano
music, and Arthur Friedheim, whose recent concert was brilliant in high
degree, and who on that occasion gave an interpretation of Liszt's great
"Sonata in B Minor" which it seems to me was not surpassed by the master
himself--and I have heard Liszt play this work many times. Richard
Burmeister also gave a masterly interpretation of this same sonata
earlier in the season. This is the sonata, by the way, of which mention
has been made, in the earlier part of these "Memories," as having been
played by Liszt on the occasion of the first visit of Brahms to Liszt,
in the year 1853.
We have also had Teresa Carreno, Adele aus der Ohe, and Fannie
Bloomfield-Zeisler, all of them of the first rank and established
reputation. Of these the first-named is a friend of long standing, for
my first acquaintance with her dates back to the early sixties, when she
first came to New York as a child prodigy. I well remember the
impression she made upon me at that time, both from her artistic playing
and her charming appearance in short dresses and "pantalets," the
fashion for children of that day. A friendship was immediately begun and
established, which still continues.
Josef Hofmann, with his tremendous technic and executive skill, has
given pleasure to many; and Arthur Whiting, Howard Brockway, and Henry
Holden Huss have ably upheld the reputation of American virtuosos and
composers.
In bringing these papers to a close, I desire to make my grateful
acknowledgment to the friends and pupils of many years who united in
celebrating the seventieth anniversary of my birth by presenting me with
a beautiful silver loving-cup, which I fondly cherish as an evidence of
affectionate regard, and which will be ever filled and overflowing with
loving memories, not alone of those who united in the gift, but of the
many others whom I have known in the course of an unusually long
professional career. To one and all I offer my heartfelt thanks.
APPENDIX
PART I
EARLY LIFE OF LOWELL MASON