THE ETUDE NOVEMBER 1920 Page 727-From Liszt to Leschetizky Forty Years with Great Pianists By the Distinguished Pianist-Composer COMMENDATORB EUGENIO DI PIRANI Clara Schumann, Sir Julius Benedict, Theodore Kullak, Xaver Scharwenka, Otto Neitzel, Moritz Moszkowski, Sherwood, John Orth, Anton Rubinstein, Hans von Billow, Franz Liszt, Carl Reinecke, Theodore Leschetizky, Paderewski, Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler. THES E reminiscences are only impressions of a per-sonal acquaintance, sometimes of an intimate friendship with the best-known pianists of our time. Fugitive sketches as they are they do not presume to give an exhaustive artistic appreciation. They are also not sys-tematic; just as they occur to my memory. Some of these heroes of the keyboard have passed away; others are living and prosperous; all more or less have left an indelible name in art. In my extensive travels I came into personal contact with all of them, therefore these memories are not made up from dead books, but from palpitating life pages. Clara Schumann I shall begin far back with those whom I was lucky enough to know in their last years; for instance, Clara Schumann, who has a double importance not only on account of her own value, but also having been the loving and beloved wife of Robert Schumann. I heard her in Berlin at the "Singakademie" play with Joachim, the famous violinist, Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata. She was not an emotional player, but she was very graceful with a purling, rolling, wonderful correct technic. I do not need to add that her interpretation of Beethoven's master work was according to the loftiest classical traditions. I was introduced to her at Frankfort-on-the-Main, where she was teaching at the Hoch's Con-servatory. The salary she drew was not munificent, indeed, for this reason she lived in rather staitened circumstances. I told her that my cherished hope was to get from her some points on the interpretation of her immortal husband's compositions. She willingly consented and I played for her the Schumann's Con-certo. She stopped me several times, specially on ac-count of some phrases which I interpreted in tempo rubato. She assured me that Schumann, although he appreciated the rubato in Chopins compositions, did not approve of it in his own music. "He was," she said, "a friend of 'keeping time,' except in places where he gave explicit indications to the contrary. He even used to say: 'Blessed be those who play in time!'" I had thought always that the more capricious the interpreta-tion of his works the more it would be in the true Schumann spirit. I noticed from the faded, shabby furniture of her flat that Clara Schumann was not enjoying the ease to which her own and Robert Schumann's position in the artistic world should have entitled her. Publishers made a fortune with Schumann's works, and Lis wife, in her last years, had to depend for her existence on the generosity of some music-loving friends, who even had to make a collection to alleviate her deplorable condi-tion. Also her appearance was suggestive of suffering. One could read in her face the disappointment, the dis-illusion, at being bereft forever of her admired, adored husband, at being left alone in the world, seeing others reap the profits of the great art of her Robert, while she, his wife, had to struggle incessantly for existence. Her hair was, of course, perfectly white—she was then in her seventieth year—and her manner tired and weary. Sir Julius Benedict To another pianist of the old school, Sir Julius Benedict, I was introduced in London in the year 1884. He was then 80 years old and had recently married a pupil of his. He had invited me to a matinee in his home, in which Marcella Sembrich sang, accompanied by Sir Julius. After the music Sir Julius fetched his newly-born baby and holding him in his arms he introduced him to his guests. Naturally every one complimented the "youthful" and proud father, who was literally beaming with joy. Mrs. Benedict seemed not to approve of this public exhibition. It was a brilliant gathering, everybody of consequence in the London music world being present. Benedict was at this time a dictator in English music life. He had great influ-ence, especially in organizing private concerts. Wealthy families paid him large sums to get up concerts by renowned artists. In this way the shrewd Sir Julius made nice profits for himself and acquired a great power even with the most celebrated artists who catered to his patronage. The happiness of Sir Julius was, however, of short duration, as he died the fol-lowing year. He was, as a pianist, a pupil of Hummel, and a pupil in composition of C. M. von Weber. Theodore Kullak My connection with Theodore Kullak was most inti-mate, as I was for ten years professor of the advanced piano classes at the Academy of Music, of which he was the director. In the beginning of my instruction to be sure the students found some difficulty in under-standing my broken German, but this very thing, this foreign touch, was considered rather interesting. My way of expressing myself caused unrestrained mirth in the class. Of course, I joined in the hilarity, specially with my female scholars, some of whom were decidedly pretty and attractive. Certainly my dignity as a teacher was often put to a severe test. I was then very young, and among the youthful ladies who attended my classes there were some especially enthusiastic over my art. This success did not blind me to the fact that I still had much to learn in order to attain a higher rank in the artistic field. Theodore Kullak himself spurred me to greater deeds. He was indeed a continuous inspira-tion to me. Although his nervous condition did not allow him to appear in public, yet he was one of the greatest pianists of any time. With his fleshy, supple, well-trained fingers he was able to conjure out of the piano a singing tone of rare beauty and also powerful orchestral effects. His scales, arpeggios, double notes, octaves, were of faultless purity and his interpretation full of poesy and dramatic power. He mastered the entire classical repertoire. A Famous Master Class There soon grew up between us a cordial intimacy and he often invited me to play before his master class, which included Xaver Scharwenka, Otto Neitzel, Moritz Moszkowski, and the Americans, Sherwood and John Orth, all of whom have made enviable names in art, although in different directions. Xaver Scharwenka is a remarkable pianist of rather robust touch and also a distinguished composer. He is now living in Berlin. Otto Neitzel besides being a skill-ful pianist has a more literary turn. He has published several books on opera, and he was also for a time music critic.of the Cologne Gazette. Moszkowski is known as a successful composer of charming piano pieces. Sherwood, too, was a gifted pianist and pedagogue. It was a great loss for the art of music in America that he passed away so soon. John Orth is still engaged as a teacher of high repute in Boston. Theodore Kullak himself commanded the ad-miration of his greatest colleagues, like Rubinstein, Biilow, etc., and when they were in Berlin they never failed to call on Kullak. They used then to perform for their mutual benefit. What a pity that this great artist was vexed by an uncontrollable stage fright. He commenced like a Jupiter tonans, but soon he lost control of himself, a kind of vertigo seized his brain and he became almost paralyzed. This, however, did not impair in the least his inimitable and inspiring teaching. He sat at a second piano and was always ready to show the pupil how to play a passage, a phrase, a melody in the most perfect, poetic way. Sometimes, when we started to play a composition, I surreptitiously would stop playing and leave Kullak to go on alone. He then would give an example of the highest virtuosity and it was only upon the enthusiastic applause of the whole class that he became aware of the splendid per-formance he had given. It was one of the rare occasions one could hear the great artist in all his glory. I mentioned Rubinstein and Billow and, as I knew both personally I shall give some details of both. Anton Rubinstein At the hospitable house of Mr. Petersen, the owner of the world renowned Becker piano factory, I became acquainted with Anton Rubinstein. Then and there he invited me to visit him. He was always ready to assist young and gifted artists in every way. He was very taciturn and appeared as though lost in thought. He would let minutes pass without uttering a single word, and only now and then he hummed over a musical phrase and in the air or on the table he carried on fantastic exercises with his fleshy muscular fingers as though he were yearning for a piano. At my request he showed me at the piano the way he interpreted the Presto agitato in Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It struck me how violently and suddenly he accented the chord at the end of the first theme. It was thundering—awe inspiring— like a flash of lightning. Everyone who has heard Rubin-stein knows what tremendous amount of tone he could draw^out of the piano. I purposely abstain from giving an appreciation of his unforgetable public performances. The status of Rubinstein as a pianist is gigantic, phenome-nal. It belongs to history and is recorded in indelible letters in its pages—"records that defy the tooth of time." Hans von Biilow My personal acquaintance with Hans Von Biilow fol-lowed an article I had published in the Gazzetta Musicale di Milano. I wrote about Biilow as a man and as an artist and observed among other things that he did not prove very courteous to those who came into touch with him. Some days later I received from him a card on which he had written under his name the words: "not very courteous because very ill." I must confess that this explanation caused me to deeply regret my publica-tion and I hastened to call on him and express to him my sympathy. Indeed, that was not a mere excuse. Biilow was by no means of strong constitution, and only his. remarkable will power enabled him to endure unusual exertions. At the close of the year 1893 his sickness assumed such an alarming violence that the doctors sent him to Egypt as a last resort, but there he grew worse and died in 1894. After his death I had a further corres-pondence with his widow, Marie Von Biilow, concerning the sufferings of her husband and she informed me that the autopsy had plainly shown what devastation his illness had brought about in his person and what unspeakable pains he was obliged to endure during the latter years of his life; pains, that, because if his iron energy, could not deter him from performing heroic deeds, such, for in-stance, as the direction of the Philharmonic concerts in Berlin. What a pity that only his valuable editions of the classics have remained as a tangible proof of his manifold activity both as a pianist and as a teacher. Biilow surpassed all his fellow artists in the purity of style and at the same time inspired interpretation of the great masters. Through wonderful phrasing and shad-ing he offered an analysis well nigh a vivisection of the work of art, in which one could easily distinguish the themes, theif development, the whole architectonic struc-ture. It was also instructive for the mature artist tp
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