"Take Auer for example. I may call myself the first real exponent of his
school, in the sense of making his name widely known. Auer is a great
teacher, and leaves much to the individuality of his pupils. He first
heard me play at the Imperial Music School in Odessa, and took me to
Petrograd to study with him, which I did for a year and four months. And
he could accomplish wonders! That one year he had a little group of four
pupils each one better than the other--a very stimulating situation for
all of them. There was a magnetism about him: he literally hypnotized
his pupils into doing better than their best--though in some cases it
was evident that once the support of his magnetic personality was
withdrawn, the pupil fell back into the level from which he had been
raised for the time being.
"Yet Auer respected the fact that temperamentally I was not responsive
to this form of appeal. He gave me of his best. I never practiced more
than two or three hours a day--just enough to keep fresh. Often I came
to my lesson unprepared, and he would have me play things--sonatas,
concertos--which I had not touched for a year or more. He was a severe
critic, but always a just one.
"I can recall how proud I was when he sent me to beautiful music-loving
Helsingfors, in Finland--where all seems to be bloodshed and confusion
now--to play a recital in his own stead on one occasion, and how proud
he was of my success. Yet Auer had his little peculiarities. I have read
somewhere that the great fencing-masters of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries were very jealous of the secrets of their famous
feints and _ripostes_, and only confided them to favorite pupils who
promised not to reveal them. Auer had his little secrets, too, with
which he was loth to part. When I was to make my _début_ in Berlin, I
remember, he was naturally enough interested--since I was his pupil--in
my scoring a triumph. And he decided to part with some of his treasured
technical thrusts and parries. And when I was going over the
Tschaikovsky _D minor concerto_ (which I was to play), he would select a
passage and say: 'Now I'll play this for you. If you catch it, well and
good; if not it is your own fault!' I am happy to say that I did not
fail to 'catch' his meaning on any occasion. Auer really has a wonderful
intellect, and some secrets well worth knowing. That he is so great an
artist himself on the instrument is the more remarkable, since
physically he was not exceptionally favored. Often, when he saw me, he'd
say with a sigh: 'Ah, if I only had your hand!'
"Auer was a great virtuoso player. He held a unique place in the
Imperial Ballet. You know in many of the celebrated ballets,
Tschaikovsky's for instance, there occur beautiful and difficult solos
for the violin. They call for an artist of the first rank, and Auer was
accustomed to play them in Petrograd. In Russia it was considered a
decided honor to be called upon to play one of those ballet solos; but
in London it was looked on as something quite incidental. I remember
when Diaghilev presented Tschaikovsky's _Lac des Cygnes_ in London, the
Grand-Duke Andrew Vladimirev (who had heard me play), an amiable young
boy, and a patron of the arts, requested me--and at that time the
request of a Romanov was still equivalent to a command--to play the
violin solos which accompany the love scenes. It was not exactly easy,
since I had to play and watch dancers and conductor at the same time.
Yet it was a novelty for London, however; everybody was pleased and the
Grand-Duke presented me with a handsome diamond pin as an
acknowledgment.