LIVING MASTERS OF MUSIC
EDITED BY ROSA NEWMARCH
IGNAZ JAN
PADEREWSKI
[Illustration: IGNAZ PADEREWSKI
_From a charcoal sketch by Mr. Emil Fuchs, reproduced by kind permission
of the artist_]
IGNAZ JAN
PADEREWSKI
BY EDWARD ALGERNON BAUGHAN
[Illustration]
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MCMVIII
Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. LIMITED
Tavistock Street, London
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. EARLY LIFE 1
II. FROM WARSAW TO PARIS 11
III. HIS DÉBUT IN LONDON 16
IV. IN AMERICA 25
V. LATER TOURS 35
VI. PERSONAL TRAITS 40
VII. HIS VIEWS ON MUSIC AND TEACHING 54
VIII. AS PIANIST 62
IX. AS COMPOSER 78
ILLUSTRATIONS
_To face page_
IGNAZ PADEREWSKI _Frontispiece_
_From a charcoal sketch by Mr. Emil Fuchs, reproduced
by kind permission of the artist_
PADEREWSKI AT THE AGE OF ELEVEN 4
_From a photograph by Mr. A. Schnell, Lausanne_
PADEREWSKI AT THE AGE OF TWENTY 8
_From a photograph by Mr. A. Schnell, Lausanne_
IGNAZ PADEREWSKI 30
_From a drawing by Venino of New York, reproduced
by the kind permission of Mr. Daniel Mayer_
THE VILLA RION-BOSSON, PADEREWSKI'S
RESIDENCE NEAR LAUSANNE 40
_From a photograph by Mr. Jean Bauler_
ANOTHER VIEW OF THE VILLA RION-BOSSON 42
_From a photograph by Mr. Jean Bauler_
GATEWAY OF THE VILLA RION-BOSSON 44
_From a photograph by Mr. Jean Bauler_
PADEREWSKI AT HOME 62
_Reproduced from the original sketch by Mr. Emil
Fuchs, by permission of the artist_
A MEMORY SKETCH OF PADEREWSKI, BY
ORLANDO ROULAND 64
_Reproduced by the kind permission of the artist_
IGNAZ PADEREWSKI 78
_From a bust by Mr. Emil Fuchs, reproduced by the
kind permission of the sculptor_
I
EARLY LIFE
The professional critic is rather at a disadvantage in dealing with an
idol of the public. His occupation compels him to find a reason for his
appreciations; he may not be enthusiastic without measure, for his
nature makes him see both brilliancy and flaws in the rarest gems of
art; indeed, the flaws act as a foil to the brilliancies. And so it
comes about that the professional critic is often at loggerheads with
the verdict of the public, or appears to be so. The public has hailed
Paderewski as the greatest of living pianists. The critic may feel that
in many respects he is, but cannot, if he would, endorse that
enthusiastic verdict without clauses of limitation, and if he be not a
master of his craft his verdict will seem all limitations and but very
little enthusiasm. One recognises the greatness of Paderewski, but at
the same time the mind thinks of the subtle Chopin-playing of Pachmann,
the noble Beethovenish moods of d'Albert and Lamond, the clearness and
demoniac brilliancy of Busoni's technique in Liszt, the grace of Pugno's
Mozart-playing, the ruthless force of Rosenthal and the magical deftness
of Godowsky. These pianists have their specialities in which not even a
Paderewski can surpass them and in some cases cannot equal them. On the
other hand, he possesses that curious magnetism which always enchains
the attention of the public. It cannot be explained; yet the critic must
admit its existence in the case of Paderewski or stultify himself. If
sensitive to the poetic appeal of music he must feel, too, that at its
best the pianist's playing has a glamour and an individuality which are
to seek in the performances of many pianists who possess greater
technical ability, and that all his interpretations are informed by a
sincere musical nature.
It may seem absurd and unnecessary to insist on this in the case of a
great virtuoso, for assuredly in piano playing, as in acting or singing,
the nature of the artist counts for everything. But the word artist has
become so vulgarised that it has lost its meaning, and we are inclined
to separate technical ability from innate musical genius and to judge
performers rather by what they can do than by what they think and feel.
This is naturally the attitude of the specialist in forming an opinion
on the respective merits of different players. It is not possible to
dogmatise about poetic feeling or insight: we have to take these
qualities for granted. On the technical side there is a standard by
which we may judge apart from any question of taste. Yet in the end the
specialist who may go into raptures over the beauty of tone which
Pachmann has made his god, or may be hypnotised by the wonderful fingers
of a Godowsky, has to fall back on the inexplicable in attempting an
appreciation of such gifted artists as Joachim, Ysaye, Sarasate, or
Paderewski. Technical standards do not avail. And the curious point is
that the great artist, the musical executant who can think his own
musical thoughts, compels our admiration even though we may criticise
his playing in technical detail.
Paderewski is one of the few players who has that effect on all kinds
of music-lovers. There are many reasons why the pianist should have made
the effect he has. There are many reasons why he should be exceptional.
For one, he was a public pianist by after-thought; at a comparatively
early age, when other artists are theorising about life he was living it
in earnest, and, above all, he was a Pole, a member of that
extraordinary nation which has given birth to Chopin, Tausig and many
minor stars in the musical firmament. Paderewski is a Pole to his
finger-tips. He has the fire, the dreaminess, the power of fantasy of
that race. It comes out in his playing and especially in his
compositions.
Podolia, the province of South-west Russia in which he was born on
November 6, 1860, is a fertile district, of which the Polish population
is quite considerable. The pianist's recollection of his childhood on
his father's farm in this garden of Russia must be full of pleasantness.
The father seems to have been a man of pronounced character. A gentleman
farmer of position he was also an ardent patriot. Three years after the
birth of his son he was "suspect" and was banished to Siberia. His exile
did not last long, but the iron had entered into his soul, and although
he lived until 1894 he was broken in spirit and his chief pleasure in
life was centred in the growing reputation of his son. The pianist did
not inherit his musical talent from his father but from his mother, who
died when he was still a child.
[Illustration: PADEREWSKI AT THE AGE OF ELEVEN
_From a photograph by Mr. A. Schnell, Lausanne_]
It is difficult not to be sceptical of the anecdotes related of the
childhood of celebrated musicians. But no doubt some of these stories
have a basis of truth, and certainly musical talent shows itself at a
very early age. It is said that young Ignace, long before he could play,
would climb to the piano-stool and attempt to produce as beautiful a
tone as possible. Of the ordinary early tuition he appears to have had
none, his mother having died when he was a child. A travelling fiddler
gave the boy a few lessons on the piano, but it may be imagined that
they were not of a very complete kind. Later on an old teacher of the
instrument was engaged to pay a monthly visit to the farm, and he taught
the boy and his sister to play simple arrangements of operatic airs.
This early life spent away from strong musical influences saved
Paderewski from the usual prodigy period in the career of pianist, for
it was not until he was twelve years of age that he went to Warsaw where
he was able to have regular music-lessons at the Conservatoire. There he
studied harmony with Roguski and the piano with Janotha, the father of
Natalie Janotha. In those days Paderewski did not show any particular
bent towards playing the piano but rather towards composition (he had
begun to compose in the old days on the farm) and general musical
knowledge. His first public appearances were not so much as pianist as a
composer who played his own music. He was then sixteen years old and it
would be interesting to know how the immature pianist impressed his
Russian audiences. That his technique was of the weakest may be judged
from the fact that he afterwards confessed that all the pieces he played
were really his own, inasmuch as when he could not manage the difficult
passages he merely improvised.
Miss Szumowska, a pupil of Paderewski's, has related a curious anecdote
of their first tour. Paderewski "had announced a concert at a certain
small town, but, on arriving, found that no piano was to be had for love
or money. The general was perfectly willing, on being applied to, to
lend his instrument; but when the pianist tried it he found, to his
dismay, that it was so badly out of repair that some of the hammers
would stick to the strings instead of falling back. However, it was too
late to back out. The audience was assembling and in this emergency a
bright thought occurred to the pianist. He sent for a switch, and
engaged an attendant to whip down the refractory hammers whenever
necessary. So bang went the chords and swish went the whip, and the
audience liked this improvised duo more, perhaps, than it would have
enjoyed the promised piano solo."
The young pianist evidently did not consider that his musical education
was complete, for at the end of the tour he returned to Warsaw and
studied for two years at the Conservatoire there. At the age of eighteen
he was appointed a professor of music and after a year he married. All
the world knows that his wife died a year later, leaving him an invalid
son in whose existence, until his death a little while ago, the pianist
was wrapped up. It was not a very bright beginning of his professional
career, for his earnings at the Warsaw Conservatoire had meant
comparative privation for his wife and himself. In some natures,
perhaps, this early tragedy would have killed ambition but hardly in an
artist. Without holding with the comfortable sentimentalists that grief
is as necessary to the artist as rain to the flowers, it may be asserted
that concentration on work is the natural result of life going awry.
This is not, as the sentimentalists imagine, peculiar to genius of the
artistic type, but is common to all men who are not invertebrate.
[Illustration: PADEREWSKI AT THE AGE OF TWENTY
_From a photograph by Mr. A. Schnell, Lausanne_]
Paderewski himself has disclaimed the pretty stories which made the
death of his wife the impetus to his after career as pianist. "I was a
professor at the Warsaw Conservatoire," he told an interviewer, "and I
had to work awfully hard. Previous to this I had made a concert tour in
Russia. In Warsaw I gave lessons from morning to night. It was not
interesting. In fact, it was slavery. One day I asked myself why I
followed such an arduous profession, and so I decided to go to
Leschetitsky in Vienna, and become a performer, since in that way I
should work hard a few years and afterwards have a life of ease, to be
idle, or devote myself to composition as I pleased." As a matter of
fact, Paderewski did not go from Warsaw to Vienna, but first paid a
visit to Berlin, where he studied composition with Kiel and afterwards
with Heinrich Urban. He was able to hear much more music than was
possible in Warsaw and in every way his musical education was being
rounded off. At twenty-three years of age he was appointed professor of
music at Strasburg. That appointment may be considered the turning point
of his career, not because the professorship in itself was anything very
brilliant, but because it brought him into contact during a vacation
with the celebrated Polish actress Mme. Modjeska. She was practically
the first to recognise in the dreamy young pianist something out of the
common. She has described him as "a polished and genial companion; a man
of wide culture; of witty, sometimes biting tongue; brilliant in table
talk; a man wide awake to all matters of personal interest, who knew and
understood the world, but whose intimacy she and her husband especially
prized for the elevation of his character and the refinement of his
mind."
The effect such a friendship had on the young artist may be well
imagined. It is probable that even in the Warsaw days Paderewski had the
dream of being able to take up the career as virtuoso, but it might have
remained a dream, for a young man of twenty who has not blossomed forth
as a recital pianist is hardly likely in the ordinary run of things to
make any great name for himself as a public pianist. All the players of
genius have been prodigies, or would have been had there existed a
market for musical wonder-children in their day. Paderewski is the
exception. That he had the ambition of making a career for himself as
virtuoso even during the Warsaw days may be admitted, but it is probable
that had he not been encouraged by his brilliant countrywoman, Mme.
Modjeska, he would not have taken practical steps to realise the dream.
II
FROM WARSAW TO PARIS
In the fact that a young professor of music, who was not without note in
his own circle, should have decided to give himself up to several years
of arduous study, we may perhaps find some indication of Paderewski's
tenacity of purpose. In 1886, at the age of twenty-six, he placed
himself under Leschetitzky's guidance, and for four years he studied
with the famous professor and his wife, Madame Essippoff. It is not too
much to say that Paderewski has made a brilliant name for his teacher as
well as for himself. Of course, Leschetitzky had a big reputation as a
teacher long before his famous pupil went to him, but it was not a
world-wide reputation, as it now is. Every season we hear pianists in
London who proudly emblazon their programmes with "pupil of
Leschetitzky"; they are as numerous as the many "pupils of Liszt," and
in many cases have as much right to the description. The difficulty is
to decide (from the many articles written by his self-styled pupils)
what is the method taught by this Viennese magician and it is almost as
difficult to draw any clear conclusion from their playing. A consistent
and illuminating account of the great teacher and his methods has been
given, however, by Miss Hullah in a volume of this series. Leschetitzky
has not any hard and fast methods. Mr. Henry C. Lahee, in his "Famous
Pianists of To-day and Yesterday," has this to say of the great teacher:
"Leschetitzky's method is that of common sense, and is based on keen
analytical faculties. He has the genius for seizing on what the finest
artists do in their best moments, observing how they do it physically,
and, in a sense systematizing it. He has his own ideas of how to train
the hand for all that it requires, but he never trains the hand apart
from the ear. He has no 'method' except perhaps in the technical
groundwork--the grammar of pianoforte playing--and this is taught by his
assistants. So long as the effect is produced, he is not pedantic as to
how it is done, there being many ways to attain the same end."
In general it may be said that the Leschetitzky pupils have "style." The
fault of the school, if one may judge by its exponents, is a desire to
be brilliant and startling at all costs. In the case of a player who has
no musical individuality of his own, and has acquired technical facility
out of all proportion to his musical endowment and general education in
the art, the Leschetitzky tuition seems to make for hardness and a
perverse brilliancy. Of course Paderewski himself would have been a
remarkable player no matter under whom he had studied, but the surety
and firmness of technique which Leschetitzky evidently knows how to
impart were just what he required. It must not be forgotten, too, that
when Paderewski went to Vienna he was practically an artist, an
all-round, well-educated musician, who, from the first, had been
interested in the historical as well as the poetic side of his art. In
addition, need it be said that he was a man of uncommon mind far removed
from the type of virtuoso who inspires his soul from the keys of the
pianoforte. No teacher and no method can produce the pianist of
"genius." The platitude is excusable in the face of the absurd things
which have been written concerning the effect of Leschetitzky's
teaching.
That Paderewski gained much from it is clear enough from the fact that a
year after going to Vienna he made his début there as virtuoso with much
success, and from that time onward his progress was gradual until in
1888 he found himself the sensation of Paris. But it was by no means a
case of the kind of artistic conquest which the popular novelist
invariably describes when writing of musicians. The first recital at the
Salle Erard in 1888 was, indeed, but poorly attended, and, except that
no performer of genius ever makes his first appearance without his
reputation having preceded him among the inner circle of his brother
musicians, the début might have fallen as flat as the ordinary recital
by an ordinary, unknown pianist. As it happened, both Lamoureux and
Colonne, who were present, were so impressed by Paderewski's gifts that
both made him an offer to play at the well-known orchestral concerts
associated with their names. M. Lamoureux's offer, being made first,
was accepted, and the new pianist was thus given an opportunity of
performing before an enormous audience. He made his mark immediately,
and was invited to play at one of the Conservatoire concerts, a
distinction which, no doubt, he fully appreciated. From Paris Paderewski
naturally cast his eyes on London, but it was not until May 1890, that
he gave his first recital here. Again his triumph was not immediate, in
the novelist's sense, and there was certainly some uncertainty in his
reception by the critics, but he did triumph in the end.
III
HIS DEBUT IN LONDON
The statement that the London critics did not recognise Paderewski's
greatness is often made to their discredit, but a close examination of
all that was written at the time does not bear out the accusation. It
was rather that the criticism was a trifle too guarded, and that to some
extent the journalists were prejudiced against the pianist through no
fault of his own but because he had been described as "The Lion of the
Paris Season." Also, although this may seem a trivial reason, the
recital took place on one of those pleasant days of our May when rain
and wind make conditions in London anything but merry. At any rate all
who were present at that first recital agree that the audience was
coldly critical. We do not accept the verdict of Paris on musical
matters, and the average Englishman is apt to suspect charlatanism in a
musician whose "wonderful aureole of golden hair" had been so sedulously
advertised. There is no doubt the sensitive pianist felt this atmosphere
keenly. He is always nervous when he begins his recital even to this
day. "The mere fact of knowing a great audience waits on your labours,"
he once remarked to an interviewer, "is enough to shake all your nerves
to pieces." There is no question that at the first recital he was not at
his best, and that there was good ground for the accusation of
"sensationalism" which was brought against him by several critics. But,
at the same time, his other merits were amply recognised. To prove this
I give some selections from the criticisms of the first recital. They
should be documents of some interest to the historian of the future.
"The player's loudest tones," said the _Times_, "are by no means always
beautiful, but the amount of fire and passion he gave to three of
Chopin's most difficult studies and to certain passages in Schumann's
Fantasia in C major produced a profound effect.... It is in Chopin ...
M. Paderewski is at his best, and here not so much in the sentimental
side of the master's work as in his passionate and fiery moods." On the
whole the "notice" had much of praise for the new pianist. The _Morning
Post_ contented itself with the expression of opinion that the pianist's
reading of compositions by Mendelssohn, Handel, Schumann, Chopin,
Rubinstein, Liszt and Paderewski was "by no means conventional, nor was
it always entirely artistic."
The _Daily Telegraph_ contained the most important criticism of the new
pianist. "Mr. Paderewski astonishes, and the good English public will
run after him, no matter what the character of the astonishment may
be.... Mr. Paderewski is a monstrously powerful pianist, and herein lies
his quality for the lover of marvels. The lover of music will sit at his
feet on other grounds; but the main point is that the Polish artist
appeals to both classes, and they comprise everybody.... We do not
pretend to much admiration for the Mr. Paderewski who astonishes. It was
impossible to find any even for Rubinstein, when he appeared as a
Cyclops wielding his hammers with superhuman energy, making the
pianoforte shake to its centre, and not always hitting true and
straight. That which was refused to the Moldavian Colossus is not likely
to be secured by Mr. Paderewski, the less because he transcends his
exemplar in fury and force of blow. It may safely be declared that no
one present at St. James's Hall on Friday afternoon had ever before
heard Mendelssohn's Prelude and Fugue in E minor so played--with clang
and jangle of metal, and with such confusion of sound that trying to
follow the working of the parts, resembled looking at moving machinery
through a fog. It was the march of an abnormally active mammoth about
the keyboard, while the wondering observer expected the pianoforte to
break down at any moment." The critic (Mr. Joseph Bennett from internal
evidence) had the same complaint to make of the performance of Handel's
"Harmonious Blacksmith." "Plainly," the critic adds, "we do not like Mr.
Paderewski as an exponent of physical force. The result of his labours
may be marvellous but it is not music." After this castigation came
praise. "There is another Mr. Paderewski whom we can well abide. He is
gentle and pleasant, refined and poetic to a degree which makes him
altogether charming. This, we suspect, must be the true Paderewski, the
other being, in the old demoniacal sense, 'possessed.' If so, is there
no power to cast out the evil spirit?" As examples of the "true
Paderewski" the critic praised the playing of some Chopin compositions
and two of the pianist's own pieces.
The critic of the _Standard_ was quite as severe on the "sensational"
aspects of Paderewski's playing. "It was quickly manifest," he wrote,
"that the performer was more anxious to astonish than to charm. His
rendering of a Prelude and Fugue in E minor of Mendelssohn was utterly
at variance with the traditional methods of interpreting the music of
this composer, and in Schumann's Fantasia in C, op. 17, we were
constantly met by surprises. The playing was marked by violent
contrasts, the pace and tone being sometimes reduced far more than the
directions given by Schumann seem to warrant, while at others the
physical powers of the executant were exercised in a manner that
resulted in much noise, but little music. The same exaggerations of
style were perceptible in Chopin's Etudes in C minor and F, op. 10, and
G sharp minor, op. 25. It must be said in M. Paderewski's favour that he
plays fewer wrong notes than most pianists of his school, and, further,
that his tone in _pianissimo_ passages is bell-like and delicate. He is,
in brief, a _virtuoso_ of no common order, but that he is entitled to
the higher rank of an artist is more than can be said, judging from
yesterday's performance." In a criticism of the third recital the critic
still complained of Paderewski's occasional exaggeration, but on the
whole the notice was a shade more appreciative, although London was
still left in doubt as to whether the pianist was "entitled to the
higher rank of artist."
The _Daily News_ thought that the leonine attributes with which
Paderewski was accredited in "his own advertisements" were "fully
exemplified in the Prelude and Fugue of Mendelssohn which opened the
programme. Mendelssohn of all composers can least bear heroic treatment
from the ultra vigorous among modern pianists, and the Fugue especially
suffered." The critic admired the pianist's Chopin playing, but added
that "he was most in his element in his own music." The pianist's
talent was thus summed up: "In short, of M. Paderewski's ability there
can be no question; and while audiences will probably prefer the
exquisite delicacy and poetical feeling which he displays in his calmer
moments to the extravagance in which he indulges when in the Ercles
vein, it is obvious that his talent lies chiefly in his interpretation
of the music of the modern and romantic schools, in which during the
current London season he bids fair to create some sensation." The critic
thought that Paderewski somewhat modified his super-abundant energy at
the second recital, which seems to have been the general opinion, and
naturally was not shared by Mr. G. Bernard Shaw, who had just begun to
write musical criticism for the _World_. "There is Paderewski, a man of
various moods, who was alert, humorous, delightful at his first recital;
sensational, empty, vulgar and violent at his second; and dignified,
intelligent, almost sympathetic at his third. He is always sure of his
notes; but the licence of his tempo rubato goes beyond all reasonable
limits." The "almost sympathetic" is distinctly good. With the exception
of the _World_ the weekly papers were not at that time remarkable for
their musical criticism, but it may be mentioned that the _Saturday
Review_ ventured to state that no one who had heard Paderewski at the
second recital would deny that "he is one of the most remarkable artists
who has been heard of late years."
The most frankly enthusiastic of all the criticisms appeared in the
_Globe_. The writer was "inclined to think" that Paderewski surpassed
all the pianists who had recently visited London (Sofie Menter,
Sapellnikoff, Schönberger and Stavenhagen) and was, indeed second only
to Rubinstein among living pianists. "His mastery of the keyboard is
complete, his touch is so exquisite, both in _fortissimo_ and
_pianissimo_ passages, and in the three intermediate gradations of tone,
that every shade of expression is at his command, and in the art of
singing on the pianoforte he can only be compared with Thalberg. There
is no kind of _charlatanerie_ in his playing; wrapt up completely in the
works he performs he devotes himself to their exposition, and while thus
engaged appears to ignore the presence of an audience." The critic's ear
was not hurt by the loudness with which the pianist played
Mendelssohn's Prelude and Fugue and Handel's "Harmonious Blacksmith"
and it was predicted that the remaining recitals would be crowded by
music-lovers, who would recognise in Mr. Paderewski one of the greatest,
if not absolutely the greatest, of living pianists. And this prediction
was realised to the full. It is very easy for those who may accept
ready-made the world's opinion of a famous artist to fall foul of the
want of enthusiasm with which he was at first received by the
professional critics. Their experience tells them that no
instrumentalist or singer can be adequately judged by one recital and
there is no doubt Paderewski showed the more violent and _bizarre_ side
of his temperament when making his début here, perhaps from nervousness
or perhaps from a natural desire to astonish, for musical artists,
however great, are but human after all. At any rate as one recital
followed another the tone of London criticism became warmer, and by the
time the series had come to an end Paderewski had established his fame
in London on a sound basis. It may be said, without indiscretion, that
although the recitals were an artistic success they only produced just
under £280 gross.
IV
IN AMERICA
On November 17, 1891, eighteen months after his London début, Paderewski
made his first appearance in New York. The success he had made in London
naturally excited the curiosity of New York amateurs and critics and the
pianist's first American recital attracted a brilliant audience. That
does not mean that the special public was ready to fall on its knees and
worship Paderewski. On the contrary, it seems as if the critics and
amateurs of New York take a special pleasure in upsetting the verdict of
London if they can, and Paderewski had to face an audience eager to
compare its impressions with what had been written in London about this
new star in the musical firmament. According to all accounts the same
thing happened in New York as had already happened in London. The
public immediately recognised the uncommon qualities of the new artist,
and not having any hard-and-fast critical standards to employ as a test
of his playing, and being impressed by the romantic simplicity of his
bearing, hailed him as a great artist _sans phrase_. On the whole, the
critics were not wildly enthusiastic. They recognised the talent of the
new pianist, but they did not immediately label him as "great." The
usual comparisons were made, not always to Paderewski's advantage. But
while the critics were making up their minds the public decided for
themselves. Two concerts with orchestra were given, and when Paderewski
began a series of recitals, it was found that the Madison Square Garden
Hall was too small to hold all his admirers, and the Carnegie Hall which
has seating accommodation for 2700 persons and standing-room for nearly
another 1000, had to be re-engaged. New York was even quicker to
discover the greatness of the pianist than London. During his six months
stay in America, Paderewski gave no less than 117 recitals. It was only
to be expected that he would be engaged for a second tour in the
following season. This visit, beginning in the autumn of 1892, was even
more successful than the first. In New York he gave two orchestral
concerts and nine recitals in the large Carnegie Hall, and from New York
he began his triumphant progress through the States. No pianist had
excited such a furore of interest. A paragraph in a newspaper of the
West gives some idea of this. "Paderewski played on Monday evening in
Cleveland, and the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railroad Company ran
special trains, one from Sandusky and the other from Norwalk, for the
benefit of the residents of those two cities who wished to hear him. The
receipts equalled the enthusiasm. Practically Paderewski could rely on
filling the largest concert-hall in America. The Chicago Auditorium
realised £1400 for one concert. Sixty-seven recitals, given in
twenty-six cities, brought in £36,000, the largest sum hitherto earned
in America by any instrumentalist. Rubinstein had not touched the record
made by Paderewski, although the Russian pianist, late in life, was
offered £500 an evening for a tour in America." It is possible, however,
that the £1000 paid by Mr. Robert Newman for an orchestral concert at
the Queen's Hall was the largest fee ever received by Paderewski. These
figures may seem a prosaic proof of the popularity of the pianist in
America, but they certainly prove that the public genuinely admired the
artist.
At the end of this second tour there was a regrettable incident at the
Chicago World's Fair. Paderewski, at great personal inconvenience and
considerable financial loss, had promised to take part in the two
opening concerts of the series to be given at the exhibition under the
conductorship of the late Mr. Theodore Thomas, for whom the pianist had
a warm personal admiration. In America Paderewski had played on the
Steinway piano, and the famous firm, not approving of the system of
awards at the exhibition, were not exhibitors. The Board of Directors
informed the artist that he must play on an instrument by an exhibiting
firm, but Paderewski naturally declined to change his piano at the last
moment. Quite a newspaper war arose, until the directors were made aware
that an artist has some rights, and then they gave way. The incident is
worth mentioning because it is often stated in private that great
pianists are in receipt of salaries from pianoforte manufacturers in
exchange for which they are bound to play on their instruments. However
this may be with others it is not so with Paderewski. Here in England he
invariably plays on an Erard, because the instrument is to his taste and
the manufacturers have always done their best to adapt their pianos to
Paderewski's requirements. The pianist himself, at the time of the
Chicago incident, felt compelled to write a letter to a New York paper
which had editorially expressed the opinion that it "was not very
generous on Mr. Paderewski's part to sell himself to a piano firm." "I
must emphatically deny," he wrote, "that I am bound by contract or
agreement, either in writing or verbally, to the use of any particular
make of piano. In this respect I am at perfect liberty to follow my
convictions and inclinations, and this privilege I must be free to
exercise in the prosecution of my artistic career. Throughout the wide
world any artist is permitted to use the instrument of his choice, and I
do not understand why I should be forced to play an instrument of a
manufacturer strange to me and untried by me, which may jeopardise my
artistic success." This dignified protest should be sufficient
contradiction of the persistent rumours that Paderewski has been bound
to play certain pianofortes. Those who understand the light in which an
artist views the instrument he plays know full well that the use of a
certain piano could not possibly be a mere matter of financial
arrangement.
The success of Paderewski in America was indeed phenomenal. It rivalled
that of Rubinstein, and was financially more brilliant. It became quite
the proper thing, an American biographer has told us, to crowd on to the
platform at the end of a concert and induce the pianist to play a few
more selections in an informal way. In Texas whole schools marched many
miles to hear him, and such was the interest aroused by his personality
that crowds frequently waited at railway stations merely to see the
train pass, in hopes of catching a glimpse of his remarkable
countenance. Sometimes crowds would line the streets from his hotel to
the concert hall and make it impossible for him to get past.
[Illustration: IGNAZ PADEREWSKI
_From a drawing by Venino of New York, reproduced by the kind permission
of Mr. Daniel Mayer_]
The pianist was fortunate in having an agent or manager of energy in
Mr. Hugo Görlitz, who directed the first three tours in America. The
distances to be traversed make an artistic visit to the States something
of an ordeal for a sensitive artist. Rubinstein found it unbearable and
not even the offer of a very handsome fee could in the end persuade the
great Russian pianist to revisit America. M. Paderewski's manager,
however, did his utmost to make the travelling as little arduous as
possible. He himself has given an account of the manner in which
Paderewski travelled in America. "In travelling in a private car in
America," Mr. Görlitzt told an interviewer some years ago, "one is
entirely independent of hotels, which in most cases are fine comfortable
buildings, but with very bad service and cooking; hence the artist, who
lives very irregularly, and when his nerves are highly strung, is not in
possession of a good appetite, must have everything to his liking; and
the only way to obtain that in America is by engaging one of the private
Pullman cars, which contain all modern luxuries and comforts. Before
starting on a tour on the car a series of menus is prepared and, in
accordance with the same, the car is provided with everything but fish
and bread, which can be obtained at the different stations by
telegraphing through the commissariat department of the Pullman Company.
Then the head waiter takes charge of the stores and prepares the menus
in the most tempting fashion. As a rule Paderewski takes his principal
meal after his concert, and, as his concert is generally usually over at
half-past ten at night, his dinner hour is eleven o'clock. But the main
comfort consists in not having to rise early in the morning after a hard
day's work, for, without having to notify any one, the car will be hung
on to an express train and he wakes up at his next station. Then there
is usually a side track, where there is very little noise, for the car
to remain during the day. In the observation room of this car we carried
an upright piano, so that the master could practise whenever he found it
necessary to do so, and as we did not enter a hotel for three weeks
during our trip, this was the only way for him to keep in practice.
"With regard to Paderewski's journey, everything is arranged for him
weeks before hand, so that it works like a machine. Whenever we arrive
in a town, a carriage has to be waiting at a station, and the same in
the evening from the hotel to the hall and back again. This, in many
instances, is essential as he leaves the concert platform so exhausted
that he might easily contract an illness if he were not immediately
taken to his hotel without any delay on the way. On one occasion,
however, all our arrangements were upset in consequence of a snow-storm,
which delayed the train from Toronto, Ontario, to Suspension Bridge. We
arrived, instead of twelve o'clock in the day, at seven o'clock in the
evening. At eight there was to be a concert at Buffalo, New York: it was
impossible to get there in time, so we telegraphed to inform the
audience that if they would wait an hour longer the artist would appear
and play his programme through. But the only way for him to accomplish
this was to dress in the train. When he had decided to do so, it was
found that our baggage had been removed into the Custom House, and the
Custom House attendants, not knowing of the arrival of this train, had
gone home. The only possible way to get at his dress-suit was for me to
break open the Custom House window, go in, bring out his dress-suit and
lock up the box again. I accomplished this without being detected, and
we arrived, finally, at Buffalo in time for the concert."
Mr. Görlitz's account gives the English reader a vivid idea of the
arduous work before a celebrated artist. How a pianist can be in a good
mood for his art after a few weeks of such high-pressure work is not
easy to understand. On the whole M. Paderewski has stood the arduous
work of his American recitals extremely well, but in 1896 at the end of
a tremendous tour through the United States he was compelled to take a
rest, cancelling an engagement to play a new fantasia by Sir Alexander
Mackenzie at one of our Philharmonic Concerts, and postponing a recital
already arranged for him in London.
V
LATER TOURS
It will not be necessary to describe in detail the triumphant career of
the virtuoso in America and Europe. Such a description would become a
mere catalogue of towns visited with an enumeration of the fees
received, enlivened by a few more or less apocryphal anecdotes. It will
be sufficient to say that M. Paderewski's second tour in America
included sixty-seven concerts in twenty-six cities and that the receipts
amounted to $180,000 (about £36,000), a sum which had never been reached
by any instrumentalist. As far as England is concerned the highest fee
paid the pianist was that given by Mr. Robert Newman, which I have
already mentioned. It must be confessed that the pianist's agent in
England, Mr. Daniel Mayer, the well-known concert agent, has managed
his affairs with the utmost discretion. We have never had an
opportunity of becoming surfeited with M. Paderewski's talent. His
visits have been comparatively few and far between and the announcement
of a recital to be given by him in London arouses a curious interest.
This is the more remarkable when we remember that the pianist has been
accepted as the chief virtuoso of his instrument ever since 1891, a
season after he made his début here. In July of that year he gave a
Chopin recital which drew the largest audience since the last recital of
Rubinstein, and also appeared at a Philharmonic and a Richter concert.
In fifteen years many new pianists have come forward, and, of recent
years, season after season has gone by without Paderewski having given a
series of concerts. His last recital was held in November 1902. It might
be thought that he would be forgotten in the midst of such fine playing
as we hear in London; but the pianist has one of those temperaments
which impress themselves on the public, so that even quite young people
who cannot have any close acquaintance with his playing know all about
Paderewski and are ready to sacrifice time and patience to attend one
of his rare recitals. Those who understand the temper of London will
agree that many a fine artist's reputation has suffered from his
recitals being so frequent that they become almost a drug in the market.
We have never had an opportunity of becoming tired of M. Paderewski.[1]
Before leaving the subject of the pianist's active career as virtuoso a
few words must be said on his rather tardy conquest of Germany. It is a
strange fact that the Berlin public and critics invariably lag behind
the rest of the world in accepting a new virtuoso. Signor Busoni, for
instance, had to wait some time for the enthusiasm which had greeted his
playing in England. He was accused of dealing with the great classical
composers in a virtuoso spirit. With regard to Paderewski it is said
that there was a good reason for his dislike of Berlin in particular.
After playing his own concerto with the orchestra of the Berlin
Philharmonic Society on one occasion he was repeatedly recalled and had
to play an encore, for which he selected a piece of Chopin's. The late
von Bülow, the conductor, is said to have openly shown his resentment of
the ovation accorded to the pianist. During his playing of the encore
Bülow indulged in an apparently uncontrollable series of sneezes, which
it may be imagined, rather upset the pianist. But it can hardly be true
that so trivial a reason made Paderewski dislike the idea of Berlin. If
so he might put our own Manchester on the black list, for a few years
ago he was obliged to stop in the middle of Chopin's Ballade in G minor
and leave the platform in consequence of the inconsiderate restlessness
of part of the audience who would enter and depart from the hall during
the performance.
But if it is with some difficulty that he is persuaded to play in
Germany, it cannot be because of a want of enthusiasm on the part of
amateurs. In May of 1894, three years after he had finally captured
London, he played his Polish Fantasia at the Nether-Rhenish Musical
Festival, held at Aix-la-Chapelle. The enthusiasm he aroused was
extraordinary. Encouraged by this reception, he gave recitals in Leipzig
and Dresden during the following year. "Not since Liszt has a pianist
been received as Paderewski was last night," and "Never since the Albert
Hall was built has such applause been heard there as last evening," are
typical extracts from the Press notices. The _Tageblatt_ critic wrote:
"Paderewski has for some years been enjoying the greatest triumphs in
Austria, France, England and America, but, for unknown reasons, avoided
Germany almost entirely. Concerning his colossal success in our sister
city of Dresden our readers have already been informed. Such positively
fabulous enthusiasm no other artist has aroused in Leipzig as far back
as our memory goes. The public did not applaud; it raved. If Paderewski
has hitherto avoided Germany in the belief that he might be coolly
received, he must have been radically cured of that idea last evening."
At this recital, which was given in aid of the Liszt Memorial, the
audience insisted on the pianist playing for more than an hour after the
programme had been completed, and would not leave the concert-hall until
all the lights were extinguished.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] His recital on June 18 of this year drew an enormous audience to the
Queen's Hall.
VI
PERSONAL TRAITS
"Paderewski," said Pachmann in one of those speeches with which he
sometimes enlivens his recitals, "Paderewski is the most modest artist
that I have ever seen. I myself am the most unmodest artist, except Hans
von Bülow. He is more unmodest than I am." It is curious, indeed, how
little is known at first hand of Paderewski. Knowledge of him as a man
is confined to the friends with whom he is intimate. The outside world
knows no more than that he is an accomplished linguist and a man of
considerable reading and catholic tastes; that he is the soul of
generosity to those with whom he is acquainted; that he is an expert
billiard player--a talent he may have learnt from his master
Leschetitzky; that he is a brilliant conversationalist; that he smokes a
great many cigarettes; and that he is fond of staying up until the
early hours of the morning. It is not, perhaps, so generally known that
he is an expert swimmer. With regard to the billiard playing, the
pianist once explained to an interviewer the place it takes in the
economy of his life. The necessity of practising during his tours for a
series of recitals has sometimes meant playing nearly seventeen hours a
day, counting the time taken by the recitals themselves--a circumstance
which has often happened during the pianist's American tours--and M.
Paderewski confessed it was playing billiards that had saved his life.
"If I walk or ride, or merely rest," he said, "I go on thinking all the
time, and my nerves get no real rest. But when I play billiards I can
forget everything, and the result is mental rest and physical exercise
combined."
[Illustration: THE VILLA RION-BOSSON, PADEREWSKI'S RESIDENCE NEAR
LAUSANNE
_From a photograph by Mr. Jean Bauler_]
Very few people understand what a life of nervous stress a great pianist
must lead. When Paderewski, in the ordinary course, has to prepare for a
recital tour, he seldom practises less than ten or twelve hours a day.
And that does not end his work, for he once told Mr. Henry T. Finck, the
celebrated American critic, that he often lies awake for hours at night,
going over his programme mentally, note for note, trying to get at the
essence of every bar. Mr. Finck goes on to say: "This mental practice at
night explains the perfection of his art, but it is not good for his
health. Indeed, if he ever sins, it is against himself and the laws of
health. He smokes too many cigarettes, drinks too much lemonade, loses
too much sleep, or sleeps too often in the daytime. For this last habit
he is, however, not entirely to blame; for whenever he gives a concert,
all his faculties are so completely engaged that he is quite exhausted
at the end, and unable to go to sleep for hours."
[Illustration: ANOTHER VIEW OF THE VILLA RION-BOSSON
_From a photograph by Mr. Jean Bauler_]