those artists whose whole life is made up of concert-tours, and this is
even less the case now than it was some years ago. In the intervals
between his tours he lives an ideal life in his Swiss home, busy with
composition, which from the very first was his real aim in life. A
writer in a German newspaper has given an interesting account of
Paderewski's home on the lake of Geneva. "It is situated some distance
away from the road, yet is easily accessible. If you visit the pleasing
little town of Morges, on the lake of Geneva, and walk westward to the
picturesque village of Islochenaz, you will, in a quarter of an hour,
reach a shady park, amid which the châlet de Riond Bosson presents an
imposing appearance. If you heed the warning notice on the gate:
'N'entrez pas sans sonner. Prenez garde aux chiens,' you may enter the
grounds without danger. At most you will risk having your clothes torn,
for Paderewski's dogs have particularly sharp teeth. By way of
compensation, there are many beautiful things to see on the other side
of the wire fence. Of course, the little castle of the Polish virtuoso
is not open to everybody, not even in the absence of the owner, but all
may visit the beautiful park which was planted by the Duchess of
Otranto. The widow of Fouché, the notorious Police Commissioner of
Napoleon I., bought this place in 1823, and occupied it a long time.
After her death the Châlet de Riond Bosson came into the possession of
her heirs, the Vicomte d'Estournel and the Comte Le Marois, who sold it
in 1898 to Paderewski. On emerging from the shady walks of the park, the
visitor comes upon an enchanting scene. In the foreground lies the
antique little town of Morges; behind it is the semicircular blue
expanse of the lake, and beyond that tower the snowy peaks of the Alps.
Behind the orchard is a big greenhouse containing nothing but grapes for
the table." Paderewski by no means spends his time in the _dolce far
niente_ for which there would be an excuse in so beautiful a spot. In
addition to his composition he interests himself in everything connected
with his estate, and particularly, like M. Jean de Reszke, in the
breeding of live-stock.
[Illustration: GATEWAY OF THE VILLA RION-BOSSON
_From a photograph by Mr. Jean Bauler_]
The reserve which his bearing on the concert platform suggests is the
effect of an artist's well-poised, nervous control. In private life
among his intimate friends he is a most sympathetic, pleasant companion,
ready and able to talk brilliantly on other arts than his own, as well
as on literature and life itself. Among those whose appreciation he
values, he is willing to exercise his particular art without any of that
false pride which has been characteristic of some virtuosi. Mr. Hermann
Klein, in his interesting "Thirty Years of Musical Life in London"
(Heinemann), gives an instance of this. Paderewski had been asked to
meet Sir Arthur Sullivan, Signor Piatti, Sir Alexander Mackenzie and a
few other well-known musicians at a dinner-party in Mr. Klein's house on
May 3, 1904. "Just before dinner a quaint sort of letter was placed in
my hand. It was from some one in the famous pianist's entourage,
reminding me that M. Paderewski was very fatigued after his heavy work
in the provinces, and begging that I would under no circumstances ask
him to play that evening. I was half amused, half annoyed by this
unexpected communication, which, of course, I knew better than to regard
as inspired by my guest of honour himself. However, I thought no more
about it until after dinner, when I took an opportunity to inform
Paderewski, in a whispered 'aside,' of the strange warning I had
received. I assured him seriously that I had not the slightest idea of
asking him to play, and that my friends were more than satisfied to have
the pleasure of meeting him and enjoying his society. He replied:--
"'Do you imagine I think otherwise? This is a case of "Save me from my
friends!" That I am tired is perfectly true. But when I am in the mood
to play fatigue counts for nothing. And I am in that mood to-night. Are
you really going to have some music?'
"'Yes, Piatti has brought his 'cello, and he is going to take part in
the Rubinstein sonata in D.'
"'Then I should like to play it with him; and more besides, if he will
permit me, Piatti and I are now old colleagues at the "Pops," and we
always get on splendidly together.'
"What could I say?--save express my gratitude, and apprise my friends of
the treat that was in store. It was the more welcome because it was
virtually unexpected. An unalloyed delight was the performance of that
lovely sonata by the Prince of 'cellists and the greatest of living
pianists. Both seemed to revel in the beauties of a work admirably
designed for the display of their respective instruments, and the
rendering was in every way perfect. After it was over, dear old Piatti,
who rarely talked much, said to me in his quiet way, 'I quite enjoyed
that. I have played the sonata with Rubinstein many times, but it never
went better than to-night.' Later on he played again; and so did
Paderewski--with Sullivan close by his side, watching with fascinated
eyes the nimble fingers as they glided over the keys. That evening the
illustrious pianist was inspired. Fatigue was forgotten; indeed, he
seemed much fresher than on the preceding night, when he introduced his
fine Polish Fantasia at the Philharmonic. He went on and on from one
piece to another, with characteristic forgetfulness of self, and it was
well on to dawn before we parted."
This type of anecdote is told of most great instrumentalists, and
especially of Rubinstein. To the lay mind it always seems strange that
an artist who earns fabulous sums from public and private recitals
should display his gifts for the mere love of the thing, but to the
artist himself there is an enjoyment in the appreciation of a few gifted
brother-artists which not all the thunder of popular applause can equal.
And M. Paderewski is, above all, an artist. His public career of course
necessitates advertisement, but he has never sought after means to bring
himself forward apart from his playing. In consequence an air of mystery
surrounds him as an atmosphere. On the few occasions when he has broken
through this retirement it has always been for the sake of some project
connected with his art or to show his esteem for a fellow artist. As an
instance of this may be mentioned the fund for the encouragement of
American composers which he founded after his 1895-96 tour. He placed a
sum of £2000 in the hands of three trustees of which the interest was to
be devoted to triennial prizes for composers of American birth
irrespective of age or religion.
Another instance is the prominent part he meant to take in the
testimonial given to Mme. Modjeska at Boston in May 1905. It will be
remembered that the great pianist as a young man owed a deal to the
encouragement of the celebrated actress, and it may be imagined how
ardently he desired to make some public acknowledgment of his
friendship. Unfortunately the serious accident which brought about the
nervous breakdown of the pianist happened just previous to the benefit
performance. The American Press teemed with alarmist reports of the
permanent character of this breakdown, and to some extent there was
justification for them. According to M. Paderewski's business manager,
Mr. J. G. Francke, the following are the facts of the case: "I was with
M. Paderewski when the accident occurred in Syracuse which upset his
nerves. We were coming from Auburn, twenty-six miles from Syracuse,
where the artist had been playing. We had a special engine. When the
switch leading from the Auburn line to the tracks of the New York
Central Railroad, half a mile from the station, was entered, the
switchman gave our engine-driver the signal to stop. This signal was
disregarded. The switchman, noting the arrival of the Buffalo express,
threw our engine off the track, and just in time, or we should have been
cut to pieces by the incoming train. M. Paderewski was seated at the
head of the table where he was supping. The force of the sudden jolt
threw him against the table as it hurled us to the floor. He did not
suffer much from the shock at the time, but he felt it more the next
day. A muscle in the back of his neck, connected in some way with the
muscles of the spinal column, was affected by the collision. That has
been his trouble. He did play after that in some Canadian cities, but
the complaint developed in Boston, and overwhelmed him eventually." On
April 29 he had arrived in Boston but was too ill to play at the
Symphony Concert to be held in aid of the Orchestral Pension Fund. This
and his inability to assist at the Modjeska benefit seemed to have
preyed on his mind and naturally did not improve his condition.
To the committee of the Modjeska Testimonial the pianist sent a
characteristic letter--a letter which is no mere expression of regret
but is of value in our understanding of the pianist, since throughout it
there breathes a love of his country worthy of Chopin himself. "For many
months," Paderewski wrote, "I have been looking forward to the 2nd of
May, anticipating one of the greatest joys of my career. The thought of
joining you all on this solemn occasion has been my pride for many
months. The sudden adversity of fate makes me feel now grieved and
humiliated, and words cannot express all the bitterness of my
disappointment. But there is still a pride and a joy I cannot be
deprived of--the pride of belonging to the same country, to the same
race which sent into the wide world one of the greatest and noblest
artists of all times and nations; the joy of being one of many to whom
Mme. Modjeska has been good, kind and generous. The first encouraging
words I heard as a pianist came from her lips; the first successful
concert I had in my life was due to her assistance. Unable to be
present, I beg of you to convey to Mme. Modjeska the homage of profound
admiration and gratitude, and to extend my sincerest thanks to all who
contribute to make this the day of legitimate and crowning triumph for a
career great, noble, pure and beautiful."
The passionate love of his country which this letter expresses will not
be new to those who are acquainted with the pianist, nor, indeed, to
those who only know him through his compositions. Once before, in 1893,
when a guest of the New York Lotus Club, he had given public utterance
to the same passion. "I loved your country," he said in his after-dinner
speech, "before I knew it, for the very simple reason, allow me to tell
you, that this country is the only one in which hundreds of thousands of
Poles are living freely and enjoying liberty; the country in which every
countryman of mine may speak whatever he likes of the past and future
of his country without fearing to be arrested. A few years ago, at the
same time that you were fighting the glorious fight against slavery, our
poor nation made its last effort for liberty. Our fate was
different--you have succeeded, and we have not; but still you gave us a
great deal of happiness in the feeling that we were not alone."
Perhaps it is not very safe to take into account the environment of an
artist in any criticism of his artistic achievements, but there is more
reason for it in the case of an executant musician than in that of a
composer, for the one so clearly makes capital of all that he is,
whereas the other often only rises to creative serenity by forgetting
his surroundings. It was in that atmosphere created by his will that
Wagner composed "Die Meistersinger," for instance. At any rate the
spirit of passionate rebellion is often to be heard in Paderewski's
playing, especially of Chopin, and it may well be that the early death
of his first wife had the effect of deepening his nature. In other
directions, too, he has known sorrow, for his only son, who recently
died, was for years a confirmed invalid. It is pleasant to think that
the pianist's life has been brightened since 1899 by his marriage to the
Baroness Hélène von Rosen.
VII
HIS VIEWS ON MUSIC AND TEACHING
It is not often that Paderewski has expressed his thoughts on his art,
but by careful research I have come across a few interviews here and
there which have something of value in them, and, I think, are worth
quoting. Again I must quote Mr. Henry T. Finck, an enthusiastic admirer,
who can speak with first-hand authority of the pianist's musical faith.
His taste, we are told, is remarkably catholic. "He likes Grieg's songs
better than his pianoforte works, while Brahms's piano pieces, as he
once said to me, hardly exist for him! 'They seem all treble and
bass!'[2] But he admires the chamber music of Brahms. His worship of
the romantic Chopin, Liszt and Schumann does not interfere with his
enjoyment of the classical Mozart and Beethoven. He adores Bach and
Schubert, and at the same time he is a thorough Wagnerite. To hear
'Parsifal' or 'Tristan,' he says, you ought to go to Bayreuth; for the
'Meistersinger' to Vienna, for 'Tannhäuser' to Dresden; while of 'The
Flying Dutchman' the best performance he ever heard was at a small
German city of thirty thousand inhabitants. This catholicity of taste
compares strangely with Rubinstein's rather limited enthusiasms." There
are certainly few pianists who have shown so eclectic a taste in their
playing as Paderewski has always displayed. It would be difficult,
indeed, to decide from his interpretations what composers appeal to him
most, for while at one moment you are ready to declare that no pianist
can surpass him in a performance of the music of Liszt and Chopin, at
the next a singularly noble and sensitive interpretation of a Beethoven
sonata will compel you to place Paderewski as the most sympathetic
player of Beethoven in the world. But this aspect of the pianist's
gifts may be more conveniently dealt with in the next chapter.
In the few public utterances he has made on his art, Paderewski has at
once paid a tribute to his instrument, and has emphasised the enormous
difficulty in becoming a master of it. "Assuredly the piano is the
greatest of musical instruments," he once exclaimed. "Its powers, who
has yet been able to test them to the full? Its limitations, who shall
define them? No sooner does one fancy that nothing further can be done
to enhance its possibilities than inventive ability steps forward and
gives to it a greater volume, a more velvety smoothness of tone." On
another occasion he said of the piano: "It is at once the easiest and
the hardest. Any one can play the pianoforte, but few ever do so well,
and then only after years and years of toil, pain, and study. When you
have surmounted all difficulties, not one in a hundred amongst your
audience realises through what labour you have passed. Yet they are all
capable of criticising and understanding what your playing should be.
Any one who takes up piano-playing with a view to becoming a
professional pianist has taken on himself an awful burden. But better
that than the drudgery of giving pianoforte lessons. The one is only
purgatory, but the other--hell!"
Of course Paderewski has not made teaching a serious part of his career
since he became famous as a virtuoso, but at least one pupil of his, Mr.
Ernest Schelling, has made public appearances, and in his early days
Paderewski knew what teaching meant. To a London evening paper[3] he
once gave the benefit of his experience. He was particularly severe on
the teaching professed by young girls who, having had a superficial
training, endeavour to turn their limited talents to effect when a
living has to be earned or supplemented.
"To teach or to learn to play the piano or any other instrument we must
commence at the beginning. The pupil must first be taught the rudiments
of music. When those have been mastered he must next be taught the
technique of his instrument, and if that instrument be the piano, or the
violin, or the harp, or the violoncello, the muscles and joints of the
hands, wrists, and fingers must be made supple and strong by playing
exercises designed to accomplish that end. At the same time by means of
similar exercises, the pupil must also be taught to read music rapidly
and correctly. When this has been accomplished she should render herself
familiar with the works of the masters--not by having them drummed into
her by her instructor, but by carefully studying them for herself; by
seeking diligently and patiently for the composer's meaning, playing
each doubtful passage over and over again in every variety of
interpretation, and striving most earnestly to satisfy herself which is
the most nearly in harmony with the composer's ideas. The chief aim of
every teacher of the pianoforte should be to impart to his pupils a
correct technique and to enable them to play any composition at sight
with proficiency and correctness; but how much, or rather how little of
this kind of teaching is practised by many so-called music teachers?
Many really competent music teachers have assured me that of all the
pupils who came to them from teachers of lesser reputation to be
'finished' there is not one in ten who has ever been taught to play all
the major and minor scales in all the various keys."
Paderewski insisted on the necessity of amateurs learning compositions
by heart, and was careful to point out that the pupil must not be made
mentally weary by over-practice. "Physical weariness from too much
practice," he added, "is just as bad as mental. To over-fatigue the
muscles is to spoil their tone, at least for the time being, and some
time must elapse before they can regain their former elasticity and
vigour." On the importance of a healthy muscular system to the pianist
Paderewski wrote at some length in a magazine.[4]
"It is highly desirable that he who strives to attain the highest
excellence as a performer on the pianoforte should have well-developed
muscles, a strong nervous system, and, in fact, be in as good general
health as possible. It might be thought that practice on the pianoforte
in itself would bring about the necessary increase in muscular power and
endurance. This, however, is not altogether the case, as it sometimes
has a distinctly deteriorative effect, owing to the muscles being kept
cramped and unused. The chief muscles actually used are those of the
hand, the fore-arm, neck, small of the back, and the shoulders. The
latter only come into play in striking heavy chords for which the hands
and arms are considerably raised from the keys; in light playing the
work is chiefly done from the wrists, and, of course, the fore-arm
muscles which raise and lower the fingers. It is not so much that
greater strength of muscle will give greater power for the pianoforte,
but rather that the fact of the muscle being in good condition will help
the player to express his artistic talent without so much effort. To
play for a great length of time is often very painful, and you cannot
expect a player to lose himself in his art when every movement of his
hands is provocative of discomfort, if not actual pain. Sometimes,
indeed, a great amount of playing brings on a special form of complaint
known as 'pianist's cramp,' which may so affect the muscles and nerves
that the unfortunate artist thus afflicted finds his occupation gone. I
have frequently found that though, whilst playing, I have experienced no
trouble from my muscles being overtaxed, afterwards the reaction has set
in, and I have had no little exhaustion of the shoulders and neck, and I
have also suffered from severe neuralgic pains affecting the nerve
which runs from the head and conveys impulses from the brain to the
deltoid muscle. Weakness in the small of the back has been by no means
uncommon."
As to the higher side of pianoforte teaching, Paderewski thinks that all
theoretical teaching is a mistake, "for when you have reasoned out an
effect you have lost that over which you have reasoned? You must teach
the student to feel." There must be no hard and fast rules. All depends
on the mood and the atmosphere. And that appears to be the spirit of the
teaching of Leschetitzky, the master of Paderewski.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] In London Paderewski has not entirely neglected Brahms's
compositions. Among others he has played the "Paganini" and the "Handel"
variations.--E. A. B.
[3] The now defunct _Sun_.
[4] Eugene Sandow's _Physical Culture_.
VIII
AS PIANIST
The critic who would give a true appreciation of Paderewski as artist
must at once admit that he has the power of moving an audience as no
pianist since Rubinstein has been able to move it. In the opening
chapter I touched on some generalities with regard to Paderewski's
position in the world of piano-playing, and I referred to the
modifications in the verdict of the general which the critic must make.
In the difference between his outlook and the public's will be found his
divergence from the critical and popular estimation in which the great
pianist is held. I will at once confess that a professional critic is
apt to be too theoretical in his judgments: it is, if viewed aright, the
defect of his merits. We are compelled to give reasons for our likes and
dislikes, and these in turn are apt to proceed too much from the
intellect and not sufficiently from the emotions. The public, on the
other hand, has no hard-and-fast theories concerning piano playing,
singing or conducting. Provided an instrumentalist or a conductor
creates a "sensation" no close inquiry is made into a sacrifice of
artistic virtue. In the following appreciation of Paderewski as pianist
I have been at pains to collate my own opinions with those of men who
have, it seems to me, some authority to write on the subject. I may say
in passing that it is extraordinary how little of the criticisms penned
on the different recitals give the reader any clear and general idea of
Paderewski. His interpretations and playing are praised or blamed, but a
writer in a daily paper has to take it for granted that the pianist's
gifts and limitations are known and understood. Indeed, a journalist who
should sit down to pen a general criticism of a celebrated artist would
be considered a kind of critical Rip van Winkle. That is a pity, because
criticism demands reconsideration every few years. How could we tell of
what a pianist's fingers might be capable until we had heard Leopold
Godowsky? How judge of the future of opera until we had heard Puccini's
"Madame Butterfly"? For this reason contemporary Press criticisms of
Paderewski do not tell us very much. But here and there, scattered up
and down the pages of weekly periodicals and magazines, I have come
across passages which give a good idea of his powers and his
limitations. I propose to quote a couple of these as preliminary to my
own estimate of the pianist.
[Illustration: PADEREWSKY AT HOME
_Reproduced from the original sketch by Emil Fuchs by permission of the
artist_]
In all criticism comparison must play an important part. However great
may be the natural gifts of a critic his verdict on a particular artist
is of not much value unless he has some clear standard of technical and
interpretative excellence. Those who remembered Rubinstein at his best
were on firmer ground in judging the new star, Paderewski, than those
who knew him not. For this reason the enthusiastic estimate of Dr.
William Mason, the well-known American writer on music and professor of
the piano, has peculiar value. Dr. Mason, it should be stated, studied
in Germany under Moscheles, Dreyschock and Liszt. In an interesting
critical study of Paderewski, written in 1893, he compared the playing
of that artist with the playing of many others, including Pachmann,
Rosenthal, D'Albert, and Scharwenka, and, while recognising their worth,
came to the conclusion that Paderewski was "an exceedingly rare
occurrence, indeed phenomenal."
[Illustration: A MEMORY SKETCH OF PADEREWSKI, BY ORLANDO ROULAND
_Reproduced by the kind permission of the artist_]
"As Moscheles played Bach half a century ago, and as Rubinstein played
him later on, so does Paderewski play him now--with an added grace and
colour which put these great contrapuntal creations in the most charming
frames. It is the great, deep, musical playing combined with the calm,
quiet repose and great breadth of style. Paderewski has an advantage
over Rubinstein, however, in the fact that he is always master of his
resources and possesses power of complete self control.... In Rubinstein
there is an excess of the emotional, and while at times he reaches the
highest possible standard, his impulsive Nature and lack of
self-restraint are continually in his way, frequently causing him to
rush ahead with such impetuosity as to anticipate his climax, and,
having no reserve force to call into action, disaster is sure to follow.
"Of five prominent pianists, in Liszt we find the intellectual emotional
temperament, while Rubinstein has the emotional in such excess that he
is rarely able to bridle his impetuosity, Paderewski may be classified
as emotional-intellectual--a very rare and happy blending of the two
temperaments--and Tausig was very much upon the same plane, while Von
Bülow has but little of the emotional, and overbalances decidedly on the
intellectual side.