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MODERN    MUSICIANS 


Socittfdts  Autmrs  Photografikti.  farit. 
STRAUSS 


MODERN 
MUSICIANS 

A  BOOK  FOR  PLAYERS 
SINGERS  8f  LISTENERS 


BYJ.CUTHBERT  HADDEN 

AUTHOR  OF  "  MASTER  MUSICIANS,"  ETC. 


BOSTON:  LE  ROY  PHILLIPS 
LONDON  &•  EDINBURGH :  T.  N.  FOULIS 


Printed  by  MORRISON  &  GIBB  LIMITED,  Edinburgh 


5 


8T.T-" 


I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 
TO  MY  FRIEND 

MISS  DOROTHY  WARD 


a  2 


PREFACE 

THIS  is  a  companion  volume  to  the  writer's  Master 
Musicians,  published  in  1909.  Like  that  work,  it  con- 
cerns itself  rather  with  the  musicians  themselves  than 
with  their  compositions  or  their  achievements.  It  does 
not  profess  to  be  technical:  indeed, it  explicitly  avoids 
the  technical,  though  there  is  a  perhaps  excusable  sug- 
gestion of  the  technical  in  the  openingchapters.  More- 
over, the  author  does  not  claim  to  have  made  a  com- 
plete, or  probably  even  the  best  possible  selection,  of 
names.  Space  is  limited ;  and  to  have  included  all  the 
names  familiar  to  the  musical  public,  wouldhave  meant 
the  book  resolving  itself  into  a  series  of  dictionary 
notices.  That  kind  of  thing  was  never  in  the  author's 
mind,  and  is  repugnant  to  him. 

Here,  in  a  word,  are  simply  some  "chapters"  in  in- 
timate musical  biography;  written  in  a  popular  style, 
and  meant  chiefly  for  popular  reading. 

The  collecting  of  materials  has  naturally  been  diffi- 
cult, since,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  no  books  have 
been  published  on  the  various  personalities  dealt  with. 
I  am  greatly  indebted  to  the  musical  magazines  of  the 
last  ten  or  twelve  years,  and,  especially  as  regards 
the  violinists  and  'cellists,  to  Tke  Strad.  I  gratefully 
mention  also  the  works  of  the  American  writer,  Mr. 
Henry  C.  Lahee,  on  Pianists,  Singers,  and  Violinists. 

J.  C.  H. 

EDINBURGH, 

Midsummer  1913. 


THE    LIST    OF    CHAPTERS 

i.  MODERNITY  IN  MUSICAL  COMPOSITION        .     PAGE  3 

COMPOSERS 

ii.  RICHARD  STRAUSS 13 

HI.  CLAUDE  DEBUSSY 19 

iv.  SAINT-SAENS 23 

v.  SOME  MODERN  CONTINENTALS      ....  27 

vi.  SIR  EDWARD  ELGAR,  O.M 35- 

VH.  GRANVII.LE  BANTOCK 42 

PIANISTS 

vin.  PADEREWSKI 49 

ix.  PACHMANN 63 

x.  EMIL  SAUER 69 

XI.    MORITZ   ROSENTHAL 73 

xn.  MARK  HAMBOURG 77 

XIII.  SlLOTI 83 

XIV.  D'ALBERT   AND   CARRENO 86 

XV.    BUSONI 91 

xvi.  BACKHAUS 94 

xvn.  SOME  OTHER  PIANISTS 97 

SINGERS 

xvin.  MELBA 109 

xix.  TETRAZZINI 116 

xx.  CARUSO 123 

xxi.  CLARA  BUTT 131 

xxii.  EMMA  CALVE 137 

xxin.  MME.  KIRKBY  LUNN 143 

xxiv.  PLUNKETT  GREEN 146 

xxv.  VARIOUS  VOCALISTS 149 

VIOLINISTS   AND   'CELLISTS 

xxvi.  YSAYE ,  161 


THE    LIST    OF    CHAPTERS 

XXVII.    KUBELIK PAGE  l66 

xxvin.  FRANZ  VON  VECSEY 172 

xxix.  MARIE  HALL 176 

xxx.  MISCHA  ELMAN 184 

xxxi.  JACQUES  THIBAUD 190 

xxxn.  KREISLER 193 

xxxin.  WILLY  BURMESTER 197 

xxxiv.  CESAR  THOMSON 200 

xxxv.  JEAN  GERARDY 202 

xxxvi.  PABLO  DE  CASALS 205 

xxxvn.  HUGO  BECKER      .......  208 


CONDUCTORS 

xxxvin.  ABOUT  CONDUCTING 213 

xxxix.  ARTHUR  NIKISCH 224 

XL.  FELIX  WEINGARTNER 230 

XLI.  SIR  HENRY  J.  WOOD 237 

XLII.  LANDON  RONALD 243 

XLIII.  SAFONOFF 251 

XLIV.  MICHAEL  BALLING 255 

XLV.  WILLEM  MENGELBERG 262 

XLVI.  EMIL  MLYNARSKI 266 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

STRAUSS Frontispiece 

DEBUSSY PAGE    4 

SAINT  SAENS.        .                24 

GRANVILLE  BANTOCK 32 

SIR  EDWARD  EI.GAK,  O.M. 40 

PADEREWSIU 56 

PACHMANN 64 

SAUER 72 

ROSENTHAI ,        .  88 

MELBA  .                                112 

TETRAZZINI ,        .        .        .  120 

CARUSO 128 

CLARA  BUTT 136 

YSAYE 160 

KUKELIK 168 

MARIE  HALL 176 

MISCHA  ELMAN 184 

SIR  HENRY  J.  WOOD 240 

LANDON  RONALD 248 

BALLING 256 

MLYNARSKI 264 


MODERNITY    IN    MUSICAL 
COMPOSITION 


MODERN  MUSICIANS     JT     JT 

CHAPTER  ONE  MODERN- 

ITY IN  MUSICAL  COMPOSITION 
THIS,  AS  HAS  BEEN  SAID,  IS  A  COMPANION 
volume  to  Master  Musicians.  A  cynic  might  be 
tempted  to  play  upon  the  two  titles,  and  to  suggest, 
in  a  significant  sarcasm,  that  the  "  modern  "  is  not 
likely  to  be  the  "  master  "  musician.  And  indeed  the 
idea  may  serve  as  an  excellent  starting  point. 

Somebody  once  foolishly  asserted  that  Beethoven 
had  spoken  the  last  word  in  music.  Other  undiscern- 
ing  persons  have  insisted  that  in  Brahms  we  must  re- 
cognise the  last  of  the  classicists.  There  can  be  no 
such  thing  as  a  "last  word"  in  music,  any  more  than 
in  literature,  or  science,  or  invention.  Composers 
have  ever  and  again  arisen  who  sought  to  widen  the 
boundaries  of  their  art ;  and  ever  and  again  such  com- 
posers will  arise.  At  first  the  new  message  is  accepted 
by  a  few,  but  is  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  and  even 
hostility,  by  the  majority.  That  is  only  natural.  When 
the  course  of  art  is  to  be  altered,  those  who  have  been 
walking  by  the  river  for  long,  and  complacently  follow- 
ing its  flow,  generally  throw  up  their  arms  in  protest 
and  anger.  The  new  genius,  with  new  ways,  is  most 
likely  to  find  his  appreciation  among  younger  and 
daring  spirits. 

Musical  history  offers  many  striking  instances  of 
the  kind.  Beethoven  himself  was  not  gladly  received, 
either  by  critics  or  public.  Nearly  all  his  earlier  works 
3 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

were  roundly  abused.  When  the  Seventh  Symphony 
appeared,  Weber  wrote  that  "the  extravagances  of 
this  genius  have  reached  the  ne plus  ultra,  and  Beet- 
hoven is  quite  ripe  for  the  madhouse."  Wagner,  now 
the  great  god  of  the  music-drama,  was  for  many  years 
derided  as  a  musical  mountebank.  "He  is,"  said  one,"a 
desperate  charlatan,  endowed  with  worldly  skill  and 
enough  vigorous  purpose  to  persuade  a  gaping  crowd 
that  the  nauseous  compound  he  manufactures  has 
some  precious  inner  virtue  which  they  must  live  and 
ponder  yet  ere  they  perceive."  Prosper  Merimee,  the 
authorof  "Carmen,"  said  hecould  compose  something 
better  than  "  Tannhauser  "  after  hearing  his  cat  walk 
over  the  piano  keyboard. 

Even  Mendelssohn  pronounced  Schubert's  music 
diffuse  and  formless.  Wagner  put  it  that  Schumann 
had  only  a  "tendency"  towards  greatness.  Tschal- 
kowsky,  representing  an  imaginary  conversation,  said: 
"Herr  Brahms,  I  consider  you  a  composer  ungifted, 
pretentious,  and  bereft  of  creative  power.  I  by  no 
means  place  you  aloft,  and  I  look  down  upon  you  with 
disdain."  The  works  of  certain  other  modern  compos- 
ers were  considered  by  many  of  their  contemporaries 
eccentric,  formless,  decadent;  hopeless  attempts  to 
open  up  new  paths. 

That,  without  further  labouring  the  point,  has  al- 
ways been  the  attitude  of  the  majority  towards  any 
new  genius.  After  a  time,  longer  or  shorter,  accord- 

4 


•raf>Jlts,  I'arff 

DEB  I 


ON  MUSICAL   COMPOSITION 

ing  to  the  opportunities  of  becoming  familiar  with  the 
new  works,  the  majority  diminishes,  and  finally  van- 
ishes. Of  course,  although  many  great  geniuses  have 
not  at  once  been  recognised,  it  by  no  means  follows 
that  all  composers  whose  procedures  are  not  contem- 
porarily approved  of  are  geniuses.  But  the  recollec- 
tion of  how  many  of  the  really  great  had  to  fight  and 
to  wait  for  recognition  may  well  serve  us  as  a  warning 
not  to  be  too  rash  in  forming  a  judgment,  especially 
an  adverse  one.  History  teaches  us  both  to  be  slow  to 
condemn  and  slow  to  extol.  Not  all  innovations  live, 
not  even  all  the  innovations  of  geniuses.  Many  innov- 
ations admired  for  a  time  by  enthusiasts  disappear 
without  leaving  a  trace  behind. 

Still,  one  doubts  about  some  of  the  vaunted  living 
composers.  They  are  living,  but  will  they  live  ?  "  I 
wonder  what  they  are  all  trying  to  accomplish?"  said 
Jean  de  Reszke  recently  of  the  modern  composers. 
"Unless  music  is  ugly  and  bizarre  and  tuneless  the 
modern  world  does  not  seem  to  want  it.  Tschai'kowsky, 
Verdi,  Weber,  the  great  symphonists,  none  of  them 
are  considered  anything  to-day.  As  for  Bellini,  Doni- 
zetti, and  Rossini,  they  are  looked  upon  not  as  men 
of  talent,  but  as  blots  on  the  world  of  art.  Even 
Wagner  is  getting  to  be  looked  upon  as  old-fashioned, 
especially  his  early  works." 

Mr.  Frederick  DeHus  says  that  Strauss  is  dished 
up  Wagner  with  twice  as  much  devil  and  not  half  the 
5 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

inspiration.  "  Debussy,  Sibelius,  and  Puccini  are  not 
great:  our  creative  musical  product  to-day  is  sick  for 
want  of  feeling,  full  of  doubt,  dismay,  self-distrust, 
blatant  self-assertion." 

There  may  be  some  exaggeration  in  all  this,  but 
there  is  also  much  truth.  Quite  recently  there  was 
heard  at  Queen's  Hall,  London,  an  orchestral  com- 
position called  "Prometheus:  a  Poem  of  Fire,"  by 
the  Russian  composer  Scriabine.  The  composer  sol- 
emnly announced  that  the  thing  had  to  be  heard  jive 
times  before  any  one  could  understand  it!  It  was  act- 
ually played  twice  at  the  same  concert,  but  most  of 
those  who  heard  it  the  first  time  fled  before  the  repe- 
tition came  on.  Here  was  what  a  leading  critic  wrote 
about  it: 

"  He  begins  with  '  primordial  chaos,'  and  the  im- 
pression left  on  me  is  that  he  never  gets  out  of  it.  The 
orchestra  snored,  groaned,  and  grunted  in  a  manner 
that  might  have  aptly  illustrated  a  hippopotamus  en- 
joying a  mud  bath.  Anon  there  were  sounds  suggest- 
ive of  an  escape  of  steam,  then  some  perky  notes 
were  shot  out  by  a  trumpet  with  comic  effect,  and 
presently  some  despairing  wails  from  a  solo  violin 
seemed  to  be  answered  by  gibes  from  the  pianoforte, 
which,  with  the  organ,  is  also  included  in  the  score. 
Towards  the  end  the  cacophony  became  unbearable." 

If  this  is  modernity  in  music,  obviously  we  do  not 
want  it.  One  really  begins  to  wonder  whether  the  writ- 
ing of  melody  is  a  lost  art.  A  music  critic  remarked  not 


ON  MUSICAL  COMPOSITION 

long  ago,  avowedly  after  a  surfeiting  dose  of  Strauss, 
Debussy,  and  Company,  that  "tunes  are  despised 
nowadays."  Tunes  are  certainly  not  despised  by  those 
who  like  to  listen  to  music,  but  there  is  some  ground 
for  believing  that  they  are  despised  by  the  creators 
of  what,  in  these  times,  is  often  taken  for  music. 
Scarcely  a  composer  of  any  standing  in  Europe  would 
dream  of  writing  a  haunting  melody,  assuming  that  he 
could  write  it.  Become  a  mere  Gounod,  a  Balfe,  a 
Bellini?  No,no;  positive  ugliness  were  better  than  that! 
And  Sir  Hubert  Parry  was  never  more  sane  than 
when  he  said  that  ugliness  in  musical  composition  is 
chiefly  the  makeshift  of  melodic  incapacity. 

Vincent  Wallace,  the  composer  of  "  Maritana,"  talk- 
ing once  to  a  friend  about  "  rising  composers,"  de- 
clared that  there  was  "  not  the  ghost  of  a  tune  in  the 
whole  lot."  The  observation  was  made  sixty  years 
ago.  What  would  Wallace  say  about  composers  risen 
and  rising  now  ?  After  all,  Haydn  was  right.  "  Let 
your  air  be  good,"  said  the  old  master,  "  and  your 
composition,  whatever  it  be,  will  be  so  likewise,  and 
will  assuredly  delight.  It  is  the  soul  of  music,  the  life, 
the  spirit,  the  essence  of  a  composition.  Without  it 
theorists  may  succeed  in  discovering  and  using  the 
most  singular  chords  and  combinations,  but  noth- 
ing is  heard  but  a  laboured  sound,  which,  though  it 
may  please  the  ears,  leaves  the  head  empty  and  the 
heart  cold  and  unaffected  by  it."  He  knew  what  he 
7 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

was  talking  about,  this  melodic  father  of  the  sym- 
phony, and  there  is  no  gainsaying  him,  even  to-day. 

Why  does  such  a  work  as  "  The  Bohemian  Girl " 
retain  its  phenomenal  popularity  with  the  opera-going 
masses?  Not  because  it  is  in  any  sense  a  "great" 
work.  Its  orchestration  is  thin  and  feeble,  its  drama- 
tic grip  of  a  rather  elementary  kind.  It  has  no  depth  of 
thought,  no  intellectual  aim.  Nevertheless,  a  perform- 
ance always  gives  real  and  abundant  pleasure.  And 
why  ?  Just  because  of  the  sheer  tunefulness  of  the 
work.  It  is  a  string  of  melodic  pearls.  Strauss,  senior, 
called  Balfe  the  "king  of  melody,"  and  he  was  right. 
These  airs  of  his  are  pure  and  natural,  written  spont- 
aneously, without,  as  it  would  seem,  the  slightest  effort. 
Pedantry  may  sneer  at  them,  but  they  have  a  way  of 
finding  out  the  tender  spots  in  the  human  heart. 

Well,  to  return,  what  of  the  modern  men?  Will 
they  "  compel "  the  heart  of  the  average  musical  amat- 
eur, as  Balfe  and  Wallace  and  the  rest  did?  Who 
can  say  ?  In  a  letter  to  a  friend, Verdi,  the  composer  of 
"II  Trovatore"  and  many  another  popular  opera, once 
wrote:  "For  an  artist  who  addresses  himself  to  the 
public,  it  is  good  fortune  when  the  press  isagainst  him. 
The  artist  remains  thus  independent.  He  has  no  need 
to  lose  his  time  thanking  one  or  the  other,  or  to  reflect 
on  their  counsels.  He  writes  freely,  folio  wing  the  dict- 
ates of  his  mind  and  heart,  and  if  he  has  it  in  him,  he 

does  something,  and  he  does  it  well." 

8 


ON  MUSICAL  COMPOSITION 

What  more  need  be  said  by  way  of  introduction  ? 
In  recent  years  two  composers  especially  have  pre- 
sented us  with  problems  which  seem  unsolvable  at  pre- 
sent— the  German  Richard  Strauss,  and  the  French- 
man Claude  Debussy.  Let  us  take  these  two,  then, 
as  a  sort  of  bridge  carrying  us  over  from  the  "master" 
to  the  "modern"  musician.  And  we  may  do  it  with 
the  more  instruction  to  ourselves  that  the  two  men  are 
in  their  natures,  as  well  as  in  their  music,  like  the 
poles  asunder.  Professor  Nieckshas  emphasized  this. 
Strauss,  a  supreme  master  of  all  the  resources  of  the 
art,  to  whom  the  most  extraordinary  difficulties  are 
child's  play,  is  a  personality  of  boundless  vigour  and 
fertility.  Work  after  work  flows  from  his  pen  with 
marvellous  rapidity,  and  every  new  one  surpasses  its 
predecessor  in  daring  and  power.  Debussy,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  musician  of  much  more  limited  craft- 
manship,  is  a  personality  without  vigour  and  fertility. 
Although  he  is  two  years  older,  his  output  is  not  a 
tenth  of  that  of  his  great  contemporary.  In  short, 
whereas  Strauss  is  wide  awake  and  alive,  indeed  tingl- 
ing with  energy,  Debussy  is  dreamy  and  languid. 
With  Strauss  his  creations  are  a  white-heat  business ; 
with  Debussy  a  lukewarm  dilettanteism. 


COMPOSERS 


CHAP.  II.          RICHARD  STRAUSS 

SOME  CONFUSION  EXISTS  IN  THE  POPU- 
lar  mind  as  totheidentityand  relationship  of  the  many 
Strausses  who  have  earned  distinction  in  the  musical 
world.  Up  to  the  time  when  Richard  Strauss  became 
well  known,  the  name  of  Strauss  was  associated 
chiefly  with  the  family  of  waltz  composers.  But 
Richard  Strauss  has  no  connection  with  the  Johann 
Strauss  who  earned  the  title  of  father  of  the  Viennese 
waltz,  nor  with  Johann's  more  famous  son,  the  so- 
called  "waltz-king,"  composer  of  the  haunting  "  Blue 
Danube." 

The  Strauss  in  whom  we  are  now  interested,  bear- 
ing, as  he  does,  the  same  Christian  name  as  Richard 
Wagner,  is  sometimes  playfully  called  Richard  II.  He 
was  born  at  Munich  in  1864,  where  his  father  was  a 
horn  player  in  the  Court  orchestra.  He  began  the  pi- 
ano at  four,  and  at  six  wrote  a  little  polka.  Before  he 
went  to  school,  he  had  composed  songs,  piano  pieces, 
and  even  an  overture  for  orchestra. 

Strauss  pere  did  everything  possible  to  foster  the 
precocious  child's  talent,  but  it  is  curious  to  remark, 
in  view  of  the  revolutionary  character  of  Richard's 
compositions,  that  the  father  was  such  a  conservative 
musician  as  neverto  getover  his  early anti-Wagnerian 
bias.  On  one  occasion,  after  he  had  most  exquisitely 
performed  the  first  horn  part  in  one  of  Wagner's 
works,  the  composer  facetiously  remarked:  "I  fancy 
after  all,  Strauss,  you  can't  be  such  an  anti-Wagner- 
13 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

ian  as  they  make  out,  seeing  that  you  play  my  music  so 
beautifully."  "What  has  that  to  do  with  it?"  growled 
the  unrelenting  hornist. 

Strauss  got  his  first  music  lessons  from  his  mother, 
a  daughter  of  Georg  Pschorr,  the  well-known  brewer 
of  Munich  beer.  But  the  most  effective  part  of  his  long 
and  thorough  musical  training  was  received  at  the 
hands  of  Von  Biilow  and  Alexander  Ritter,  a  man  of 
many  and  varied  accomplishments,  who  had  married 
a  niece  of  Wagner.  He  has  told  himself  that  until 
1 885  he  had  been  brought  up  in  a  strictly  classical  way 
— on  Haydn, Mozart,  and  Beethoven — that  only  after 
1885  did  he  attain,  via  Mendelssohn,  to  Chopin  and 
Schumann  and  then  to  Brahms. 

Biilow  fancied  him  as  a  conductor,  and  in  1885  en- 
gaged him  as  assistant  music  director  of  his  Meineng- 
en  Orchestra.  Then,  when  Biilow  left  Meinengen, 
Strauss  succeeded  him.  But  this  appointment  did  not 
last  long.  After  a  tour  in  Italy  Strauss  returned  to 
Munich  in  1886,  to  be  made  third  kapellmeister  at  the 
Opera.  That  post  he  held  till  1889, when  he  became  as- 
sistant kapellmeister  at  Weimar,  under  Lassen.  Here 
he  remained  until  1894,  when  he  returned  to  Munich, 
this  time  as  first  kapellmeister.  In  1 898  he  left  Munich 
to  take  up  the  post  of  conductor  at  the  Berlin  Royal 
Opera.  A  year  before,he  paid  his  first  visit  to  England, 
when  he  conducted  two  of  his  own  works  at  Queen's 
Hall. 

14 


RICHARD    STRAUSS 

Long  ere  this,  he  had  "  found  "  himself  as  a  com- 
poser ;  and  it  is  as  a  composer  that  we  are  now  chiefly 
concerned  with  him — the  composer  of  "Salome"  and 
"Elektra,"  "DerRosenkavalier,"  "Heldenleben,"and 
other  epoch-making  works.  What  is  to  be  said  about 
them?  Nothing  technical  here,  but  something  of  a 
general  nature. 

Strauss'  ideas  about  music  are  certainly  original 
enough.  He  maintains  that  the  ugly  in  art  is  as  impor- 
tant and  legitimate  as  the  beautiful.  Music,  he  says,in 
effect,  may  represent  any  feature  of  life.  For  him  there 
is  no  absolute  beauty  or  ugliness  in  music:  whatever 
is  truly  and  sincerely  felt,  and  faithfully  and  properly 
reproduced,  is  beautiful. 

In  agreement  with  this  opinion,  he  depicts  in  "Hel- 
denleben"  a  battle  scene  by  a  cacophonous  jumble 
of  unrelated  sounds;  in  "Don  Quixote"  the  hero's 
charge  of  a  flock  of  sheep  by  an  imitation  of  bleat- 
ing and  stampeding,  realistic  rather  than  musical.  In 
"Elektra" there  are  howling  steam- whistle  effects,and 
shrieks  of  the  first  order  given  out  fortissimo.  He  even 
terminates  the  score  with  a  dissonance. 

In  "Salome"  we  have  morbid  and  degenerate  psy- 
chological conditions  depicted  by  means  between 
which  and  art  as  understood  by  the  classic  masters 
there  is  no  connection  possible.  But  perhaps  Strauss 
is  right  after  all.  As  he  says  himself,  ideas  of  beauty 
are  constantly  changing:  "the  ugly  ot  to-day  may  be 
15 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

the  beautiful  often  or  fifty  years  hence" ;  and  a  creak- 
ing hinge  or  the  bray  of  a  donkey  be  as  welcome  from 
an  orchestra  as  a  Beethoven  symphony  is  now. 

Strauss  can  himself  play  nearly  every  one  of  the 
orchestral  instruments.  The  complexity  of  his  works 
leaves  even  Wagner  behind.  He  has  conducted  them 
in  all  the  capitals  of  Europe,  and  has  often  quite  ex- 
hausted his  players  in  his  powerful  upbuilding  of 
climaxes.  Some  interestingthingshavebeenrecorded 
about  his  methods  of  composing.  He  is  very  fond  of 
playing  ball  at  his  Bavarian  home,  and  a  friend  who 
has  often  enjoyed  that  pastime  with  him,  reveals  the 
fact  that  themes  for  his  "  Rosenkavalier  "  frequently 
occurred  to  him  during  the  game.  Every  now  and 
then  he  would  stop  suddenly,  let  the  ball  fall  to  the 
ground,  take  out  his  note-book,  and  jot  down  an  idea. 
Several  of  the  prettiest  melodies  in  the  opera  came  to 
him  in  this  way.  This  authority  added  that  in  working 
out  his  ideas  later  at  the  piano  the  composer  is  very 
thorough,  often  copying  or  correcting  a  part  half  a 
dozen  times;  occasionally,  indeed,  remodelling  prac- 
tically the  entire  composition  four  or  five  times. 

He  himself  says :  "  Wherever  I  am  I  compose. 
Whether  in  my  quiet  country  home  or  in  the  noisiest 
international  hotel,  in  the  solitude  of  my  own  garden 
or  in  a  railway,  my  note-book  is  always  at  hand.  As 
soon  as  a  suitable  motive  for  the  theme  which  is 

occupying  my  mind  occurs  to  me,  it  is  at  once  en- 

16 


RICHARD    STRAUSS 

trusted  to  my  faithful  companion,  my  musical  note- 
book." This  reminds  one  of  Beethoven  and  his  sketch- 
books, which  he  always  carried  about  with  him.  Beet- 
hoven had  no  garden  of  his  own,  but  delighted  in 
solitary  wanderings  in  Nature's  great  garden. 

Strauss  is  reported  as  saying  that  it  is  only  when  a 
man  is  free  from  any  thoughts  of  money  matters  that 
he  can  give  himself  completely  to  his  art.  Comment- 
ing on  the  vast  sums  he  exacts  for  the  rights  of  per- 
forming his  works,  a  captious  writer  says  it  is  evident 
that  Strauss  has  not  yet  arrived  at  that  stage ! 

Some  years  ago  he  married  an  operatic  singer, 
Pauline  de  Ahna,  daughter  of  a  Bavarian  General. 
When  he  wrote  his  "Domestic  Symphony"  he  wished 
it  to  be  regarded  in  a  serious  spirit,  and  was  annoyed 
by  being  credited  with  a  desire  to  be  funny  and  flip- 
pant. "What  can  be  more  serious  than  married  life?" 
he  demanded.  He  has  indeed  a  mordant  wit.  Asked 
about  women  conductors,  he  says :  "  As  women  are 
able  to  control  excellent  conductors — namely  their 
husbands — why  should  they  not  be  equal  to  the  task 
of  directing  the  orchestras  which  their  husbands  con- 
trol?" 

He  was  dining  once  with  a  party  of  musical  friends, 
when  the  conversation  turned  on  the  compositions  of 
the  Kaiser.  Some  of  the  guests  had  expressed  their 
opinions  pretty  freely,  when  Herr  Strauss  put  his 

finger  to  his  lips  and  said:  "Sh!  sh!  you  should  never 
17  B 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

run  down  the  compositions  of  crowned  heads  in  com- 
pany.   There  is  no  telling  who  wrote  them." 

A  modest  man,  he  does  not  like  flattery  from  his  ad- 
mirers. One  insistent  sycophant  said  :  "  Master,  you 
are  the  Budda  of  modern  music."  "  I  don't  know 
about  that,"  he  replied,  "  but  I  do  know  what  is  the 
pest"  (Budapest).  Naturally,  he  has  little  time  for 
hobbies.  Lately,  however,  he  took  to  aviation,  which 
seems  the  right  thing  for  a  composer,  who,  of  course, 
ought  to  be  an  "air"  man.  Doubtless  he  will  now  rise 
to  greater  heights  than  ever ! 


CHAPTER  III.    CLAUDE  DEBUSSY 

"THE  DEBUSSY  CULT,"  SAID  A  LONDON 
musical  journal  in  1909,  "is  making  great  progress 
in  this  country.  It  has  reached  that  interesting  stage 
when  many  people  who  are  really  desperately  be- 
wildered, affect  to  perceive  beauties  and  wonderful 
meanings  that  have  probably  entirely  escaped  the  at- 
tention of  the  composer  himself.  But  there  is  no  mis- 
taking the  depth  and  width  of  the  influence  Debussy 
is  exerting  on  the  art.  His  music  may  be  classed  as 
nebulous,  fragile,  diaphonous,  and  so  on,  but  one 
cannot  resist  the  languor  of  the  hazy  atmosphere  with 
which  it  envelopes  and  mesmerises  the  listener.  What 
one  appears  to  miss  is  the  attribute  of  strength,  and 
grip,  and  clearness  of  purpose.  It  is  nearly  always 
veiled  suggestion  and  an  appeal  to  imaginativeness." 

This,  even  after  the  lapse  of  four  years,  and  when 
we  have  had  many  more  opportunities  of  judging  De- 
bussy, seems  a  very  fair  estimate.  Debussy,  by  his  love 
of  freedom  and  endeavour  to  shake  off  the  "accumul- 
ated dust  of  tradition  "is,  to  a  great  extent,a  lawtohim- 
self.  The  old  forms,  the  old  harmonies  subject  to  the- 
oretical laws,  the  old  accepted  notion  that  music  ought 
to  be  primarily  beautiful — all  these  things  are  rejected 
by  Debussy  as  they  are  rejected  by  Strauss,  though 
Strauss  rejects  them  in  a  very  different  manner. 

What  strikes  one  mainly  in  listening  to  Debussy's 
music  is  (to  be  technical  for  once)  a  sense  of  the 
dreamy  and  the  languid,  of  vagueness  and  mystery 
19 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

and  "atmosphere,"  of  the  predominance  of  dissonance 
over  consonance,  and  the  treatment  of  dissonance  as 
not  in  need  of  resolution  into  consonance.  An  Ameri- 
can writer  credits  him  with  a  lukewarm  dilettanteism  ; 
and  in  his  criticism  of  Debussy's  chief  work,  the  opera 
or  lyrical  drama,  "  Pelleas  and  Melisande,"  claims  to 
characterise  the  whole  man  and  artist. 

He  calls  the  work  mooning,  mystic  and  triste,  and 
speaks  of  its  invertebrate  charm,  its  innocuous  sensu- 
ousness,  its  absence  of  thematic  material,  its  perverse 
harmonies,  its  lack  of  rhythmic  variety,  and  its  faded 
sweetness,  like  that  evoked  by  musty  tapestry  in  lan- 
guid motion.  This  is  not  bad  either  !  Of  course  there 
are  plenty  of  people  who  like  the  dreamy  and  the 
"  mooning  "  in  music.  Mme.  Carrefio  puts  it  well  when 
she  says  that  "  the  young  musician  is  fascinated  by 
Debussy  as  babies  are  fascinated  by  coloured  balls 
without  knowing  what  they  are." 

When  Debussy  made  his  first  appearance  in  Eng- 
land in  1908  and  conducted  three  of  his  own  pieces  at 
Queen's  Hall,  it  was  written  in  a  musical  journal : 

"So  novel  are  the  effects  which  M.  Debussy  obtains 
from  his  wonderful  scheme  of  orchestral  colour,  so 
elusive  is  the  music,  so  formless,  and  yet  in  a  way  so 
graphic,  that  it  is  difficult  to  express  an  opinion  upon 
a  work  of  this  kind  after  a  first  hearing.  Such  atmo- 
spheric strains,  so  unlike  what  one  is  accustomed  to, 
must  be  listened  to  in  a  passive  frame  of  mind,  per- 
chance in  a  darkened  room.  There  can  be  no  question 

20 


CLAUDE    DEBUSSY 

as  to  the  cleverness  of  the  music  or  its  poetic  import; 
the  only  thing  is  to  get  one's  ears  educated,  so  to 
speak,  in  order  to  appreciate  its  strange  idiom." 

It  is  as  yet  too  early  to  fix  Debussy's  exact  niche  in 
the  temple  of  fame ;  but  his  works  have  certainly  been 
gaining  ground.  His  name  is  constantly  seen  in  pro- 
grammes of  song  and  piano  recitals ;  his  Quartet  in  G 
minor  is  often  performed ;  and  "  L' Enfant  Prodigue  " 
and  "  La  Demoiselle  Elen  "  have  been  given  even  at 
provincial  festivals.  There  is  an  increased  interest, 
too,  in  "  Pelle"as  and  Melisande,"  which  offers  such 
striking  contrast  to  Wagner's  music-dramas.  "  L'- 
Apres-midi  d'un  Faune  "  has  become  a  favourite  since 
its  first  English  performance  in  1904.  It  was  a  Lon- 
don critic  who,  commenting  on  that  performance,  was 
under  the  impression  that  "  faune  "  meant  fawn,  and 
facetiously  inquired  what  the  afternoon  thoughts  of  a 
young  gazelle  were  likely  to  be ! 

Claude  Debussy  was  born  at  St.  Germain-en-Laye 
in  August  1862.  He  studied  at  the  Paris  Conserva- 
toire, where,  like  so  many  more  of  the  French  opera 
composers,  he  took  the  Prix  de  Rome.  In  early  youth 
he  was  an  ardent  Wagnerite,  but  shook  off  the  spell 
after  a  sojourn  in  Russia,  where  he  came  under  the  in- 
fluence of  certain  of  the  ultra-modern  native  masters. 

Though  he  had  written  a  good  deal  before  that  time, 
it  was  not  until  the  production  of  "  Pelle*as  and  Meli- 
sande" in  Paris  in  1902  that  his  claims  to  attention 
21 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

were  recognised.  A  premiere  at  the  national  Ope'ra- 
Comique  is  always  an  important  event;  it  attracts  the 
public  and  is  commented  upon  in  all  Parisian  news- 
papers, a  favour  sparingly  accorded  to  concert  novel- 
ties. Despite  many  sarcastic  criticisms  and  wholesale 
depreciations, despite  the  not  unaccountable  bewilder- 
mentof  the  public  atthe  first  performance,  success  was 
not  long  in  coming.  Many  musicians  who  at  first  stood 
aside,  feeling  perplexed,  have  now  admitted  the  beauty 
of  Debussy's  lyricdrama.  Nevertheless  he  remainsone 
of  the  men  over  whom  the  critics  wrangle,  as  they  used 
to  wrangle  over  Wagner.  What  they  will  ultimately 
make  of  him  remains  to  be  seen,  but  of  his  present  im- 
portance in  the  world  of  music  there  canbenoquestion. 
Debussy  is  delightfully  unconventional.  He  con- 
ducted at  Queen's  Hall  in  a  lounge  jacket — and  why 
not?  How  he  sets  about  giving  a  recital  was  told  quite 
recently  by  Miss  Fanny  Davies,  the  pianist.  She  said: 
"  The  Debussy  group  came  second  in  the  programme, 
and  I  think  it  worthy  of  note  that  he  ordered  the  lid 
of  the  piano  to  be  half  closed,  as  in  ensemble  playing. 
Then  he  arrived,  quite  simply,  with  his  music  in  his 
hand,  and  after  arranging  it  and  his  chair,  he  played." 
Accustomed  as  we  are  to  seeing  pianists  make  their 
entry  with  a  somersault  or  a  handspring,  the  Debussy 
method  seems  tame.  Quite  lately  he  has  entered  the 
field  of  musical  criticism,  having  agreed  to  write  a 
monthly  article  for  a  leading  Paris  review. 


CHAPTER  FOUR  SAINT-SAENS 
M.  CAMILLE  SAINT-SAENS  IS  THE  MOST 
versatile  of  all  living  musicians — a  great  composer,  a 
great  pianist,  a  great  organist,  a  writer  of  distinction 
on  his  art,  and  the  author  of  much  charming  verse. 
Wagner  spoke  of  him  as  "  the  greatest  living  French 
composer,"  and  Gounod  constantly  expressed  his  ad- 
miration of  his  phenomenal  gifts,  remarking  that  he 
could  write  at  will  a  work  in  the  style  of  Rossini, 
Verdi,  Schumann,  and  Wagner.  Von  Biilow  was 
amazed  at  the  vast  extent  of  his  knowledge,  and,  in 
fact,  said  :  "  There  does  not  exist  a  monument  of  art 
of  whatsoever  country,  school,  or  epoch  that  Saint- 
Saens  has  not  thoroughly  studied." 

There  is  no  other  living  French  composer  whose 
music  is  so  often  given  and  so  much  admired  in  Eng- 
land. His  "Samson  and  Delilah, "performed here  from 
1893  to  1909  as  an  oratorio,  was  popular;  but  after- 
wards when  given  on  the  stage,  its  great  merit  was 
more  fully  recognised.  As  a  pianist,  he  has  often  been 
heard.  In  that  character  he  was  once  thought  to  rival 
Liszt.  They  say  that  at  Bayreuth,  when  Saint-Saens 
was  at  the  height  of  his  Wagner  enthusiasm,  he  sat 
one  evening  at  the  piano,  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
company  of  the  world's  musical  notables,  and  played 
from  the  orchestral  score  one  of  the  Acts  of  "Parsifal," 
and  also  from  the  score  of  "  The  Ring."  The  former 
work  was  then  unknown,  and  his  arrangement  and 
reading  were  at  first  sight.  His  execution  is  prodigi- 
ous, and  his  lightness  of  touch  quite  unique. 
23 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Saint-Saens'  biography  may  be  briefly  summarised. 
He  is  a  French  Jew,  born  in  Paris  in  1835.  He  says 
himself  that  at  two-and-a-half  years  of  age  he  showed 
musical  tendencies.  At  five  he  composed  waltzes  and 
romances,  and  loved  to  listen  to  the  singing  of  the 
kettle.  At  ten  he  led  an  orchestra,  and  played  Mozart 
and  Beethoven  by  heart. 

Then  he  entered  the  Paris  Conservatoire,  and  had 
lessons  in  composition  from  Gounod.  When  only 
seventeen  he  was  appointed  organist  of  St.  Merry;  and 
in  1858  he  succeeded  Lef^bure-Wely  as  organist  at 
the  Madeleine  in  Paris.  Thereby  hangs  a  tale.  Saint- 
Saens  is  a  grand  extemporiser,  and  he  always  extem- 
porised his  voluntaries.  He  was  known  as  a  severe, 
austere  musician,  and  the  public  had  been  led  to  be- 
lieve that  he  constantly  played  fugues.  Thus  it  hap- 
pened that  ayounggirlabout  tobemarried  begged  him 
not  to  play  a  fugue  at  her  wedding  !  To  be  sure  an- 
other asked  him  to  play  a  funeral  march.  She  wished 
to  weep  at  her  wedding,  and  as  she  would  not  feel  tear- 
ful, she  depended  on  the  organ  for  the  water-works. 

There  is  another  good  story  in  this  connection.  A 
vicar  of  the  parish  observed  to  Saint-Saens  one  day: 
"  The  congregation  of  the  Madeleine  is  composed  for 
the  most  part  of  persons  who  often  go  to  the  Opera- 
Comique.  They  have  acquired  musical  tastes  that 
should  be  respected."  To  which  Saint-Saens  replied : 

"  Monsieur  l'Abb6,  when  I  hear  in  the  pulpit  the  dia- 

24 


SAINT-SAINS 


SAINT-SAENS 

logue  of  the  Op£ra-Comique,  I  will  play  appropriate 
music,  but  not  till  then." 

Saint-Saens  resigned  his  post  at  the  Madeleine  in 
1870,  and  since  then  he  has  occupied  no  public  ap- 
pointment, finding  composition  and  concert  tours 
enough  for  his  time  and  attention.  He  quickly  made 
a  name  by  his  symphonic  poems,  and  particularly  with 
that  concert-room  favourite,  the  "  Danse  Macabre." 
One  of  his  most  representative  sacred  works  is  "  The 
Deluge,"  which  exhibits  his  characteristics  almost  as 
much  as  "  Samson  and  Delilah."  The  story  of  the  lat- 
ter, which  now  keenly  engages  interest,  is  curious. 
The  subject  was  taken, up  by  Saint-Saens  before  the 
Franco-Prussian  War,  and  the  score  was  completed 
in  1872.  But  there  was  no  performance  till  1877,  and 
then  it  was  at  Weimar,  under  the  direction  of  Liszt. 

Saint-Saens  has  told  of  the  relations  with  Liszt 
which  brought  this  about.  He  says : 

"  I  first  saw  Liszt  in  Paris  in  1854,  and  I  was  then 
a  young  fellow  of  eighteen.  I  probably  heard  him  at 
the  house  of  my  teacher  Seghers,  and  the  impression 
was  so  powerful  that  I  at  once  completely  changed  my 
style  of  playing.  About  two  years  later  I  saw  him 
again  in  Paris,  played  to  him  my  first  Concerto  and  my 
first  Mass,  and  he  gave  me  priceless  advice.  Then  I 
met  him  in  Germany  at  a  critical  moment  in  my  career. 
I  had  been  working  for  a  long  time  at  my  '  Samson  et 
Dalila,'  yet  without  much  encouragement  from  those 
about  me.  I  began  to  doubt,  felt  exhausted,  and  was 
25 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

determined  finally  to  bury  my  plan.  Then  Liszt  en- 
tered into  the  breach.  He  wouldn't  hear  of  my  giving 
up  the  opera,  encouraged  me,  and  said  :  '  Finish  your 
opera,  and  I  undertake  to  get  it  performed.'  And  that 
is  how  '  Samson  et  Dalila '  was  first  given  on  German 
soil,  at  Weimar." 

Later  on  "Samson  and  Delilah"  was  given  in  other 
German  cities.  Not  until  1 890,  at  Rouen,  was  it  recog- 
nised in  the  composer's  native  country.  After  that,  it 
quickly  ran  through  the  musical  centres  of  Europe.  In 
England  it  was  heard  twice  in  concert  form  before  be- 
ing staged  at  Covent  Garden  in  April  ipO9,having  been 
vetoed  by  the  censor  because  of  the  British  prejudice 
against  Scriptural  subjects  being  represented  on  the 
stage. 

As  a  composer  Saint-Sae'ns  writes  with  astonishing 
rapidity.  He  once  promised  to  provide  an  operetta. 
A  few  weeks  before  the  date  which  had  been  fixed  for 
the  performance  it  was  found  that  nothing  had  arrived. 
Inquiries  were  made,  and  it  turned  out  that  Saint- 
Sae'ns  had  forgotten  all  about  the  commission.  He 
said,  however,  that  he  would  make  amends  for  his  for- 
getfulness,  and  in  two  hours  he  wrote  off  twenty-one 
pages  of  full  score,  and  the  whole  thing  was  finished 
in  an  incredibly  short  time. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

SOME  MODERN  CONTINENTALS 

CHIEFLY  FRENCH  AGAIN.  FOR  IT  IS  CURI- 
ous  that  the  modern  advance  in  music  seems  to  con- 
centrate itself  largely  in  France.  Artistically  indep- 
endent, French  composers  give  free  play  to  their 
phantasy,  and  continue  to  discover  fresh  devices, 
which  are  not  personal  to  any  individual,  though  dif- 
fering in  the  use  to  which  each  puts  them. 

Interchange  of  ideas  is  indispensable  to  the  healthy 
development  of  art.  In  Germany  disintegration  is  ap- 
parent; her  musical  supremacy  is  threatened  because 
of  her  scorn  of  other  people's  music.  Insularity  is 
lowering  her  standard,  as  was  shown  at  a  recent  com- 
petition in  which  the  judges  had  to  regret  that,  of  874 
compositions  submitted,  the  German  works  were  of 
lower  average  quality  than  the  non-German. 

It  is  in  France  that  the  greatest  degree  of  independ- 
ence has  been  attained.  The  French  are  quick-witted. 
Germans  love  explanations  even  of  the  obvious.  The 
English  are  affirmative,  reiterative.  The  Frenchman 
will  have  neither  explanation  nor  repetition;  his  rest- 
lessness is  apt  to  be  a  danger.  He  cannot  endure  the 
obvious,  but  loves  the  unexpected.  He  seeks  subtlety 
and  perfect  finish. 

Among  the  French  composers  of  to-day,  M.  Vincent 
D'Indy  stands  apart,  a  singularly  noble,  self-cent- 
red, commanding  figure.  Born  in  Paris  in  1851,  he 
27 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

learnt  the  technique  of  his  art  from  Ce"sar  Franck, 
whose  compositions,  after  long  neglect,  have  had  a 
wonderful  revival  in  recent  years.  D'Indy  has  written 
the  best  biography  of  Franck  that  we  have.  All 
through  runs  the  note  of  enthusiasm  and  personal  af- 
fection, and  the  good  old  man,  organist  of  St.  Clotilde, 
Paris,  and  Professor  at  the  Conservatoire — who  al- 
ways appeared  in  black,  and  wore  his  trousers  too 
short — lives  again  in  these  pages.  Much  could  be 
written  about  Franck  if  this  were  the  place  for  such 
writing.  In  addition  to  his  gifts  as  a  composer,  his 
talent  for  teaching  must  have  been  very  great,  for 
several  prominent  composers  besides  D'Indy  were  his 
pupils,  including  Bruneau,  Faure,  and  Chabrier.  He 
was  born  at  Lie'ge  in  1822  and  died  in  Paris  in  1890. 
D'Indy  is  also  a  native  of  the  French  capital,  born 
there  in  1851.  He  says  he  only  realised  art  when  he 
was  seventeen,  and  did  not  understand  Beethoven  till 
over  twenty.  He  has  lived  a  quiet  though  busy  life ; 
and  since  1896,  when  it  was  founded,  has  been  head 
of  the  Schola  Cantorum,  a  practical  school  of  music 
intended  to  oppose  the  official  Conservatoire.  As  a 
composer  he  has  produced  works  of  every  description, 
from  the  short  song  and  piano  piece  to  the  lyric  drama 
and  religious  music.  He  helped  Lamoureux  to  pro- 
duce "Lohengrin"  in  1887,  when  the  anti-Wagner- 
ians  tried  to  stir  the  public  sentiment  against  the 

production,  and  succeeded  in  fomenting  riots  around 

28 


MODERN    CONTINENTALS 

the  theatre.  He  has  himself  done  much  as  a  conductor 
in  France,  America,  Russia,  Holland,  Italy,  and 
Spain.  Romance  and  picture-loving,  he  is  yet  of  in- 
tellectual type,  aristocratic  in  the  best  sense.  He  has 
many  fervent  admirers  and  as  many  detractors,  but  he 
leaves  no  music  lover  absolutely  indifferent. 

Then  there  is  Maurice  Ravel,  a  highly-trained  French 
composer,  still  young,  having  been  born  in  1875.  His 
"  Jeux  d'eau"  is  well  known  in  England.  Some  regard 
Ravel  as  the  most  original  of  the  younger  contempor- 
ary Frenchmen,  next  to  Debussy.  He  is  more  definite 
and  formal  than  Debussy,  but  there  is  a  certain  cor- 
respondence between  the  two,  since  the  outstanding 
features  of  Ravel's  works  are  hazy  forms,  strange  col- 
ouring, and  cryptic  idioms.  Evidently  he  enjoys  the 
gruesome,  otherwise  he  would  not  have  portrayed  a 
gibbet  on  a  moor  with  a  corpse  swinging  in  the  wind. 
But  then,  too,  has  he  not  illustrated  in  music  some 
of  the  old  French  fairy  tales  which  correspond  to  our 
Mother  Goose,  and  employed  an  orchestra  of  fifty  or 
sixty  to  do  it  ?  At  first  thought  this  may  seem  strange. 
Why,  we  might  ask,  should  a  composer  go  to  such 
pains  to  do  such  a  childish  thing?  Yet  on  consider- 
ation it  has  to  be  admitted  that  many  of  the  most  de- 
lightful works  of  modern  art,  both  dramatic  and  musi- 
cal, have  been  animated  by  a  similar  spirit.  One  does 

not  feel  any  disproportion  in  the  elaborate  stage  set- 
29 


MODERN    MUSICIAN 

tings  that  give  to  Maeterlinck's  childlike  play  of  "The 
Blue  Bird"  so  much  of  its  charm;  nor  does  one  feel  the 
Wagnerian  orchestra  employed  by  Humperdinck  in 
"Hansel  and  Gretel "  to  be  any  too  large  to  give  richness 
of  colour  to  the  fascinating  old  German  story.  And  it 
is  easy  to  see  why  a  composer  finds  this  vein  an  en- 
joyable one  to  work.  By  a  natural  reaction,  especially 
at  times  when  art  has  become  over-refined,  the  highly 
sophisticated  artist  rests  and  recreates  his  mind  by 
playing  with  childish  ideas.  It  amuses  him  keenly  to 
take  a  point  of  view  so  remote  from  his  own,  to  set 
forth  the  primitive  with  all  the  accumulated  resources 
of  his  skill,  to  be  more  subtly  childlike  than  childhood 
itself,  to  improve  on  his  model,  as  a  great  architect 
might  build  with  his  children's  blocks  more  wonderful 
castles  than  they  had  ever  dreamed  of.  Frequently, 
indeed,  the  fruits  of  this  kind  of  childlike  spirit  in  an 
artist  are  of  an  inimitable  flavour,  so  that  we  should 
be  reluctant  to  exchange  them  for  his  more  pretentious 
productions.  They  have  a  quaintness  all  their  own. 
Mr.  Barrie  outdoes  his  hero  at  the  game  of  imagina- 
tion in  those  chapters  of  Sentimental  Tommy  that  tell 
of  the  last  Jacobite  rising;  and  Stevenson  is  never 
more  a  magician  in  words  than  when  he  cries: 

"  The  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things 
I  am  sure  we  should  all  be  as  happy  as  kings." 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  younger 
French  composers,  committed  as  they  are  to  a  singul- 

30 


MODERN    CONTINENTALS 

arly  sophisticated  and  in  some  ways  artificial  type  of 
music,  should  relax  and  amuse  themselves  by  an  occas- 
ional masquerade  in  the  nursery.  Debussy,  for  ex- 
ample,in  his  suite/'TheChildren'sCorner/'bringshis 
wonderfully  atmospheric  art  to  the  representing  of  the 
pipeof'The  Little  Shepherd,"  devises  a  new  pianistic 
tone-colour  to  set  before  us  a  doll's  serenade,  and  idea- 
lises rag-time  to  produce  a  "  Golliwogg's  Cake-walk." 
And  so  Maurice  Ravel  unbends  to  Mother  Goose  and 
Beauty  and  the  Beast!  Here  at  least  he  has  deserved 
well  of  allmusical children, andof  all  older  musiclovers 
in  whom  the  memory  of  sweet,  quaint,  childish  things 
has  not  faded  away. 

Leaving  France,  we  may  notice  M.  Sergius  Rach- 
maninoff, one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  younger  Rus- 
sian composers.  In  the  popular  mind  Russian  music  is 
chiefly  associated  with  Tschai'kowsky,  that  dark,  my  stic 
spirit  of  the  Pathetic  Symphony.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
from  the  days  of  Tschaikowsky's  premature  death,  the 
rise  of  Russian  music  in  the  concert  rooms  of  Europe 
may  bedated.  And  Rachmaninoff  stands  almost  alone. 

We  are  apt  to  think  of  Tschai'kowsky,  with  his  gift 
of  being  melodiously  sorry  for  himself,  as  typically 
Russian.  That  view  is  doubtfully  correct.  Nor  do 
some  of  the  other  Russian  composers,  with  their  reli- 
ance on  an  Oriental  jingle  and  clatter,  satisfy  one's 
ideas  of  the  musical  expression  of  the  musical  character 
31 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

of  the  Russian.  But  Rachmaninoff  is  different.  About 
as  original  as  any  other  Russian  composer,  he  conveys 
perhaps  a  greater  impression  of  strength  and  dignity 
than  any  of  them.  His  compositions  have  long  been 
recognised  by  the  cognoscenti 'as  works  of  solidity  and 
beauty.  A  Prelude  in  C  sharp  minor  is  a  favourite  con- 
cert piece,  and  other  things  are  frequently  played. 

The  composer,  too,  is  well  known  as  a  virtuoso 
pianist  of  high  rank  and  originality.  Born  forty  years 
ago,  he  studied  theory  with  his  cousin,  Arenski,  and 
pianounderSiloti,  at  the  Moscow  Conservatoire,  where 
he  took  the  gold  medal  in  1 89 1 .  He  lives  a  very  quiet 
and  retired  life  in  Dresden,  and  devotes  himself  prin- 
cipally to  composition.  Doubtless  there  is  much  more 
permanent  and  original  work  to  come  from  him. 

Finally  (for  space  considerations  are  pressing)  a 
word  or  two  about  Jean  Sibelius,  a  native  of  Finland, 
now  about  forty-seven  years  of  age.  At  New  York,  in 
the  spring  of  1913,  Mr.  Damrosch,  the  eminent  con- 
ductor, prefaced  his  performance  of  Sibelius'  latest 
symphony  with  a  brief  statement  in  the  nature  of  a 
warning.  He  was  performing  the  symphony  for  the 
first  time  in  America,  he  said,  as  a  duty,  because  it  was 
the  last  word  in  symphonic  composition  of  a  man  who 
had  previously  made  a  recognised  place.  And  if  any 
did  not  like  it,  or  liked  it  only  in  parts,  they  were  to  re- 
member this  fact 

32 


Photograph  iy  Lafaytlte,  Dxtli*. 
GRANVILLE  BANTOCK 


MODERN    CONTINENTALS 

The  symphony,  when  it  was  heard,  seemed  to  justify 
Mr.  Damrosch's  statement,  and  the  opinion  he  added 
that  it  was  the  work  of  a  man  "  tired  of  the  musical 
effects  of  the  past,  or  of  what  have  hitherto  been  con- 
sidered such";  also  that  it  embodied  the  most  extra- 
ordinary ideas  of  symphonic  development  that  ever 
he  had  seen.  A  distinct  novelty  in  composition,  evid- 
ently! 

Not  much  is  known  about  Sibelius,  for  he  lives  in 
far-away  Helsingfors  and  shrinks  from  all  forms  of 
publicity.  It  is  told  that  on  one  occasion  a  tour  was 
arranged  between  him  and  a  celebrated  singer;  but  at 
the  last  moment  an  overwhelming  sense  of  all  that  it 
would  involve  rushed  over  him — the  crowds,  the  ora- 
tions, the  travelling  in  public,  with,  perhaps,  speeches 
tomake,thebusiness  interviews,  the  thousand  and  one 
insincerities  of  such  undertakings — and  he  telegraph- 
ed that  he  could  not  go. 

He  receives  a  pension  from  the  Government  to  en- 
able him  to  work  in  peace,  and  he  lives  in  patriarchal 
simplicity  with  his  wife  and  five  children,  in  a  house 
surrounded  by  a  network  of  lakes,  rivers,  and  forests. 
He  revels  in  the  wild,  and  the  pinewoods  bring  to  him 
literally  "thoughts  that  do  almost  lie  too  deep  for 
tears."  His  relaxations  are  boating  and  fishing,  tramp- 
ing through  the  storm,  wrestling  with  Nature  in  her 
savage  moods,  basking  inherbeauty,drivingabout  the 
moorlands  in  his  trap,  or  lying  on  the  hills  dreaming 
33  C 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

and  brooding.  One  of  his  daughters  is  reported  as  "  of 
a  strange,  wild,  elfin  type,"  who  has  composed  tales 
and  songs  from  early  childhood. 

Sibelius  first  visited  England  at  Mr.  Granville  Ban- 

tock's  invitation  to  conduct  his  symphony  in  E  minor 

at  Liverpool.     His  fame  has  been  slowly  but  surely 

growing  here  ever  since,  but  he  is  much  better  known 

on  the  Continent. 


VI.     SIR   EDWARD    ELGAR,   O.M. 

INTHEMAYOF  i9O2,ELGAR'S  "GERONTIUS," 
performed  for  the  first  time  at  the  Birmingham  Festival 
of  1900,  was  heard  at  the  Lower  Rhenish  Festival  at 
Diisseldorf.  Richard  Strauss  was  there,  and  at  a 
dinner,  after  the  official  toasts  had  been  proposed,  he 
surprised  every  one  by  spontaneously  proposing  an- 
other toast.  "  I  raise  my  glass,"  he  said,  "  to  the  wel- 
fare and  success  of  the  first  English  Progressivist, 
Meister  Edward  Elgar."  These  generous  words  gave 
great  offence  in  some  quarters,  but  they  undoubtedly 
had  much  to  do  with  the  revival  of  Elgar's  great  work 
in  his  own  country. 

No  British  composer  ever  made  such  rapid  progress 
in  the  estimation  of  musicians  as  Elgar.  In  1890  he 
was  practically  unknown  outside  the  circle  of  his  im- 
mediate friends;  ten  years  later  no  festival  programme 
was  considered  complete  which  did  not  include  one  of 
his  works,  and  there  were  few  concert  programmes  in 
which  his  name  did  not  appear. 

Self-taught,  self-centred,  self-determined,  Elgar 
may  claim,  more  than  any  other  English  composer,  that 
he  has  been  "  his  own  ancestor."  He  was  born  at 
Broadheath,  near  Worcester,  in  1857,  the  son  of  a 
Roman  Catholic  Church  organist,  who  kept  a  music 
shop.  The  father  was  apparently  not  satisfied  with  his 
own  career  as  a  musician,  for  he  placed  his  son  in  a 
solicitor's  office.  A  year  was  spent  there,  and  then  the 
boy  found  his  musical  bent  too  strong  to  be  resisted. 
35 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Practically,  he  taught  himself,  and  taught  himself  to 
play  six  or  seven  instruments,  too,  though  the  violin 
was  his  chief  study.  From  the  age  of  fifteen  he  main- 
tained himself.  He  played  in  the  orchestra  of  the  Festi- 
val Choral  Society;  he  sang  and  played  at  the  Worces- 
ter Glee  Club;  he  played  bassoon  in  a  wind  instrument 
quintet.  Later,  he  was  bandmaster  at  the  Worcester 
County  Asylum,  where  the  Board  asked  him  to  write 
sets  of  quadrilles  atfive  shillings  each.  About  the  same 
timehe  was  scoringChristy  Minstrel  songsateighteen- 
pence  each! 

He  had  no  formal  training:  never  spent  any  time  in 
the  "shoppy"  atmosphere  of  Conservatoire,  College, 
or  Academy.  In  these  respects  his  history  is  more  like 
that  of  the  eighteenth-century  composer  than  that  of 
his  colleagues  and  compeers  of  to-day.  It  is  instruc- 
tive and  encouraging,  and  without  knowing  it,  it  is 
not  possible  to  understand  the  influences  which  have 
moulded  his  music,or  to  know  what  manner  of  man  he  is. 

Nobody  was  ever  less  like  the  musician  of  conven- 
tional type.  He  is  an  omnivorous  reader,  thanks  to 
the  influence  of  his  mother,  who  was  familiar  with  all 
the  classics  of  literature,  and  is  fond  of  relating  how 
his  father  once  let  a  disused  loft  to  a  second-handbook- 
seller,  who  used  to  deposit  his  surplus  stock  there. 
Elgar,whowas  then  about  fifteen,  used  to  spend  many 
hours  of  his  spare  time  in  this  loft  and  read  voraci- 
ously, and  it  was  books  on  history  and  antiquities  that 

36 


SIR   EDWARD  ELGAR,  O.M. 

chiefly  attracted  him.  It  is  to  this  that  he  ascribes  his 
great  store  of  out-of-the-way  antiquarian  knowledge, 
with  which  he  will  astonish  and  divert  his  friends.  But 
with  his  usual  modesty  he  always  protests  that,  like 
Gibbon  when  he  arrived  at  Oxford,  he  has  "a  degree 
of  ignorance  of  which  a  schoolboy  would  be  ashamed," 
and  leaves  his  friends  to  find  out  that  (also  like  Gib- 
bon) he  really  has  "a  stock  of  erudition  which  might 
puzzle  a  doctor."  He  can  talk  a  whole  morning  with- 
out even  once  attributing  unworthy  motives  to  a  fel- 
low-musician, indeed  without  even  mentioning  music. 
In  fact  he  might  be  mistaken  for  a  mere  ordinary  gen- 
tleman from  his  conversation  no  less  than  from  his  ap- 
pearance. He  is  not  one  of  those  whose  minds  move 
in  a  narrow  channel.  When  he  lived  among  the  Mal- 
vern  Hills,  as  he  did  for  some  years,  he  deeply  inter- 
ested himself  in  all  that  concerned  the  country-side, 
and  was  said  to  be  a  keen  judge  of  agricultural  imple- 
ments and  top-dressings.  Few  things  delight  him  more 
than  golf.  "Golf  is  a  grand  game,"  he  says,  "because 
you  can't  think  of  anything  else  when  playing."  For 
some  time  he  was  a  follower  of  the  American  craze  for 
kite-flying.  He  is  a  great  walker  and  a  cyclist;  and 
sketches  of  his  cycling  adventures  often  adorn  his  let- 
ters to  his  friends.  He  once  declared  that  if  he  had 
not  been  a  musician  he  would  have  been  a  soldier.  He 
studies  also  the  hidden  life  of  the  very  poor  and  destit- 
ute. As  a  young  man,  he  drove  round  with  a  baker's 
37 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

cart  in  the  hope  that  he  might  thus  see  something  of 
the  way  in  which  the  very  poor  live ;  and  for  weeks 
together  he  accompanied  a  doctor  in  the  slums,eagerly 
in  search  for  anything  typically  human. 

Elgar  continued  his  work  as  a  player  and  teacher 
at  Worcester  for  some  years,  running  up  to  London 
occasionally  to  hear  the  Crystal  Palace  orchestra.  But 
he  detested  the  drudgery  of  teaching,  and  presently, 
having  married,  he  removed  to  London,  to  cultivate 
the  higher  walks.  Then  his  health  broke  down,  and 
in  1891  he  exchanged  London  for  that  beautiful  home 
at  Craeg  Lea  (the  name  conceals  an  anagram),  where 
he  could  see  without  moving  from  his  table  the  fertile 
plains  which  extend  towards  the  Severn — one  of  the 
loveliest  landscapes  of  its  kind  in  England. 

In  November,  1900,  the  honorary  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Music  was  conferred  on  him  by  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  when  the  orator  said : 

"If  ever  this  votary  of  the  muse  of  song  looked  from 
the  hills  of  his  present  home  at  Malvern,  from  the 
cradleof  English  poetry,  the  scene  of  the  vision  of  Piers 
Plowman,  and  from  the  British  Camp,  with  its  legend- 
ary memories  of  his  own  'Caractacus,'  and  in  the  light 
of  the  rising  sun  the  towers  of  Tewkesbury,and  Glou- 
cester, and  Worcester,  he  might  recall  in  that  view  the 
earlier  stages  of  his  career,  and  confess  with  modest 
pride,  like  the  bard  in  the  Odyssey: 

1  Self-taught  I  sing ;  'tis  Heaven  and  Heaven  alone, 
Inspires  my  song  with  music  all  its  own.'" 

38 


SIR  EDWARD  ELGAR,  O.M. 

Now  Sir  Edward  is  once  more  established  in  Lon- 
don— at  Hampstead.  There,  among  many  other  in- 
teresting things,  you  can  see  his  baton.  It  is  a  very 
ordinary  stick,  but  it  contains,  he  says,  his  biography. 
On  it  he  has  written  the  dates  on  which  he  has  con- 
ducted the  first  performances  of  his  works.  Another 
thing  of  whichhe  is  justlyproud  is  afine  tankard, made 
by  some  members  of  the  Festival  Choir  at  Hanley, 
which  was  the  first  to  sing  his  "King  Olaf." 

Sir  Edward  once  told  that  most  of  his  composing  is 
done  out-of-doors  communing  with  Nature.  A  thund- 
er-storm, a  gale,  a  gentle  breeze,  a  quiet  landscape,  or 
a  rugged  scene,  all  have  a  musical  effect  on  his  mind, 
and  will  form  themselves  into  a  composition.  But  it 
requires  work  to  put  this  down.  An  American  paper 
once  gave  a  series  of  New  Year  resolutions  by  promin- 
ent musicians.  Elgar's  resolve  was:  "That  after  all, 
it  would  perhaps  be  better  if  a  composer  only  com- 
posed." In  this  case  the  resolve  has  never  material- 
ised, for  Elgar  not  only  composes,  but  he  was  for  some 
years  Professor  of  Music  in  Birmingham  University, 
and  he  conducts.  He  received  £1000  forgoing  to  Cin- 
cinnati to  conduct  "  The  Apostles." 

Miss  Florence  Fidler,  who  has  played  in  an  amat- 
eur orchestra  under  his  baton,  says  that  he  is  hope- 
less as  a  teacher,  but  is  a  fine  conductor.  Those  who 
need  to  be  taught  orchestral  playingmustgo  elsewhere. 
If  the  band  is  experienced,  and  knows  how  to  allow 
39 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

itself  to  be  played  on,  he  will  play  on  it  to  some  pur- 
pose. But  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  his  moods,  and  rarely 
does  a  thing  twice  alike.  At  preliminary  practices 
with  an  incomplete  band  he  plays  missing  wind  parts 
with  his  left  hand,  and  beats  time  with  his  right. 
He  can  bear  much  provocation  with  patience,  and 
little  provocation  with  no  patience  at  all.  If  a  violin 
player  drops  his  mute  there  is  a  rumpus;  on  the 
other  hand,  he  is  unsparing  in  his  care  for  detail,  and 
will  repeat  a  passage  many  times  until  he  is  satis- 
fied. 

The  composer  of  "  Gerontius  "  and  that  popular 
melody  "Salut  d'Amour"  is  a  man  of  a  most  generous 
and  kindly  nature.  He  took  up  Miss  Marie  Hall  when 
she  was  nine,  and  gave  her  violin  lessons  at  his  home. 
When  the  blind  organist,  William  Wolstenholme. 
composed  his  degree  exercise,  it  was  Elgar  who  com- 
mitted the  work  to  paper  from  the  composer's  dict- 
ation, devoting  many  afternoons  to  this  laborious, 
self-imposed  task.  Then  he  went  to  Oxford  with 
his  friend,  to  act  as  amanuensis  in  the  examination 
room.  He  received  his  knighthood  in  1904,  and  in 
1911  was  appointed  to  the  Order  of  Merit — the 
greatest  honour  so  far  bestowed  on  an  English  mus- 
ician. 

What  Wagner  did  for  opera  from  the  point  at  which 
it  was  left  by  Mozart  and  Weber,  says  one  of  his  bio- 
graphers, Elgar  is  doing  for  oratorio  from  the  point  at 

40 


.R,  O.M. 


SIR  EDWARD  ELGAR,  O.M. 

which  it  was  left  by  Handel  and  Mendelssohn,  and,  as 
many  believe,  with  equal  inspiration.  This  is  but  a 
part  of  his  work,  but  were  it  his  solitary  achievement, 
he  would  have  richly  earned  a  conspicuousplace  among 
the  immortals. 


VII.  GRANVILLE  BANTOCK 

MR  GRANVILLE  BANTOCK  IS  THE  SON  OF 
an  eminent  surgeon,  and  was  born  in  London  in  1868. 
He  studied  first  for  the  Indian  Civil  Service,  but  his 
health  broke  down,  and  he  had  to  give  up  the  idea  of 
an  official  career.  Then  he  took  to  chemical  engineer- 
ing. Music  was  never  thought  of  till  he  was  twenty. 
It  was  at  the  South  Kensington  Museum  Library  that 
the  attractions  of  MS.  scores  of  certain  composers 
caused  him  to  forsake  all  for  the  art. 

In  1888  he  entered  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music  as 
a  student,  and  took  a  wide  course — composition,  clar- 
inet, violin,  viola,  and  organ.  He  even  played  the  drum 
in  the  students'  orchestra!  At  the  Academy  he  became 
known  as  a  composer  of  so-called  "tone-poems,"  and 
one  of  hisexcursionsinto  that  region  was  a  piece  called 
"Satan  in  Hell."  On  the  occasion  of  its  being  tried  at 
a  students'  concert,  the  players  naturally  warmed  up 
to  their  work,  and  produced  such  an  orgie  of  sound  as 
to  cause  the  Principal,  who  was  conducting,  to  ask  the 
composer:  "What  does  this  mean?"  "  That's  hell," 
said  Bantock. 

His  master  for  composition  was  Frederick  Corder, 
and  Corder  has  recorded  his  experiences  with  him. 
He  says : 

"  Granville  Bantock  was  almost  the  first  of  a  long 
line  of  clever  students  who  have  passed  through  my 
hands  during  the  last  twenty  years.  He  gained  the 
Macfarren  Scholarship  entirely  on  the  promise  of  his 

42 


GRANVILLE    BANTOCK 

talent,  for  at  that  time  he  knew  nothing  at  all.  It  was 
characteristic  of  him  that  he  should  exhibit  as  speci- 
mens of  his  powers  some  wild  attempts  to  set  to  music 
large  portions  of  Paradise  Lost — indeed,  I  fear  he  me- 
ditated setting  the  entire  work.  My  heart  went  out  to 
the  daringenthusiast,andremained  with  him  ever  after. 
"His  industry  and  perseverance  were  abnormal. 
I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  had  a  pupil  who  worked 
so  hard.  He  was  none  of  your  born  geniuses  that  the 
halfpenny  papers  love  to  tell  us  about,  who  write  sym- 
phonies at  seven  and  are  exploded  gas-bags  at  fourteen. 
He  dug  and  tilled  his  field  like  an  honest  labourer,  and 
it  was  many  years  before  the  crop  was  good.  But  now 
he  can  look  with  pride  upon  the  just  results  of  good 
studentship.  Let  him  tell,  if  he  cares  to,  of  his  severe 
and  manful  struggles  against  disappointment  and  hard 
luck  when  he  first  entered  the  big  world:  it  is  only  for 
me  to  say  that  no  man  ever  was  more  deserving  of  suc- 
cess than  GranvilleBantock.  He  never  turned  his  back 
on  a  friend,  therefore  he  will  never  lack  helpers  and 
well-wishers.  Heneverdesertedhis  high  ideals, there- 
fore his  muse  will  be  ever  kinder  and  kinder  to  him." 

Bantock  has  been  "through  the  hards,"  as  the  say- 
ing is.  In  1893  he  became  conductor  of  a  travelling 
company  who  performed  burlesques  in  the  provinces. 
His  salary  was  £3  a  week,  while  his  orchestra  consis- 
ted of  one  violin,  one  double-bass,  one  cornet,  and  "the 
left  hand  of  the  conductor  on  an  anaemic  piano."  One 
of  the  burlesques  was"Bonnie  Boy  Blue,"  the  overture 
to  which  consisted  of  variations  on  "Ta-ra-ra-boom- 
de-ay." 
43 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

An  important  change  in  his  life  came  in  1897  when 
he  was  appointed  musical  directorof  the  New  Brighton 
Towerorchestra.  That  sameyear  hefounded  the  New 
Brighton  Choral  Society,  and  became  conductor  of  the 
Runcorn  Philharmonic  Society,  thus  widening  his  in- 
terests and  extending  his  rapidly-growing  influence 
asa  master  musician.  In  March  1898  he  married  Miss 
Helena  von  Schweitzer,  who  hadpreviously  been  assoc- 
iated with  him  in  writing  the  lyrics  for  the  "  Songs  of 
the  East "  and  other  librettos.  It  was  during  his  New 
Brighton  period  that  he  composed  his  orchestral  vari- 
ations "  Helena,"  on  the  theme  H.  F.  B.,  his  wife's 
initials — a  characteristic  work  which  bears  an  equally 
characteristic  dedication : 


"  DEAREST  WIFE! — Accept  these  little  Variations 
with  all  my  heart's  love.  They  are  intended  as  an  ex- 
pression of  my  thoughts  and  reflections  on  some  of 
your  moods  during  a  wearisome  absence  from  each 
other." 


After  spending  three  active  and  useful  years  at  New 
Brighton,  Mr.  Bantock  found  his  anchorage  and  a  fine 
outlet  for  hisenergiesandadministrativeskillon  being 
appointed  Principal  of  the  School  of  Music  connected 
with  the  Birmingham  and  Midland  Institute.  Then,in 
1908,  he  succeeded  Sir  Edward  Elgar  as  Professor  of 
Music  in  the  University  of  Birmingham,  where  he  has 

44 


GRANVILLE    BANTOCK 

done,  and  is  doing,  notable  work.    Speaking  recently 
of  the  University  music  course,  he  said : 

"  The  candidate  must  produce  good  modern  work, 
human  work,  music  that  expresses  some  phase  of 
human  feeling.  A  candidate  who  included  a  fugue  in 
his  composition  would  incur  some  risk  of  being 
ploughed.  We  shall  not  value  canons  that  go  back- 
wards, or  that  play  equally  well  with  the  music  upside 
down.  We  want  to  produce  musicians  who  will  emul- 
ate Sibelius  and  Strauss  and  Debussy,  whom  I  regard 
as  being  the  best  orchestral  writers  now  living." 

Mr.  Bantock  dislikes  being  called  "Professor." 
Three  or  four  years  ago  he  was  reported  to  have  lost 
his  professional  gown,  and  it  is  suggested  that  the  one 
he  uses  on  degree  days,  &c.,  is  probably  a  spare  one 
loaned  by  some  colleague. 

But  Mr.  Bantock  is  really  first  and  last  a  composer. 
His  works  are  very  numerous,  and  several  of  the  most 
importanthave  been  produced  at  the  leading  festivals. 
The  Viennese  performance  of"  Omar  Khayyam  "  was 
one  of  the  most  significant  details  in  the  history  of  Eng- 
lish music.  It  is  obvious,  as  one  biographer  has  re- 
marked, that  he  is  a  heavy  worker.  Few,  however, 
seem  to  meet  him  when  he  is  busy  or  rushed.  He  says 
he  composes  to  please  himself.  "Theimpulseto  create 
music  is  upon  me,  and  I  write  to  gratify  my  impulse. 
When  I  have  written  the  work,  I  have  done  with  it.  I 
do  not  want  to  hear  it.  What  I  do  desire  is  to  begin  to 
enjoy  myself  by  writing  something  else." 
45 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

The  explanation  of  his  great  output  probably  lies  in 
the  unusual  circumstances  that  as  a  smoker  he  never 
has  to  hunt  for  his  matches, and  that  as  a  daily  railway 
traveller  he  never  has  to  run  for  his  train  or  (given  a 
punctual  service)  to  wait  for  it  atthe  station.  Mr.  Ban- 

tock,  it  may  be  added,  finds  his  chief  recreation 
in  chess. 


PIANISTS 


CHAPTER  EIGHT     PADEREWSKI 

"  LISZT  IS  DEAD,  AND  BULOW  IS  DEAD,  AND 
Rubinstein  is  dead,  and  all  three  are  reincarnated  in 
the  most  brilliant  pianist  of  the  day."  So  wrote  a  critic 
of  Paderewski  in  1895.  There  are  indeed  some  re- 
spects in  which  Paderewski  may  be  said  to  excel  any 
of  his  predecessors  among  the  virtuosi  of  the  piano- 
forte. In  the  old  days,  the  days  of  the  young  Liszt  and 
Rubinstein, techniquewas  themaster  andnot  the  serv- 
ant of  the  art.  Mere  finger  dexterity  was  held  in  high 
esteem,  and  pianists  dazzled  less  by  their  interpret- 
ations of  classical  works — which  they  seldom  played 
in  public — than  by  the  number  of  notes  they  could 
strike  in  a  given  time. 

Even  Lisztdid  not  fear  at  thebeginningof  his  career 
to  make  his  new  and  powerful  technique  the  master  of 
his  art — as  when  he  changed  the  sustained  bass  notes 
in  a  Beethoven  sonata  into  trills  and  tremolos  to  show 
the  suppleness  of  his  fingers.  And  what  Liszt  did, 
others  did.  It  was  nothingthat  the  composer  had  given 
expression  in  his  music  to  certain  well-defined  inten- 
tions: technique  had  been  cultivated  for  its  own  sake, 
and  the  light-fingered  wizards  hesitated  not  to  enter 
into  open  warfare  with  the  musician,  whom  they  were 
falsely  supposed  to  "interpret." 

We  have  left  this  characteristic  of  the  virtuoso  far 
behind  in  these  days.  It  is  no  longer  technique  alone, 
but  technique  in  union  with  musical  feeling  that  is 
wanted.  In  Goethe's  words,  "one  must  be  able  to 
49  D 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

command  poetry"  :  one  must  have  mind  and  soul,  as 
well  as  a  supple  wrist  and  pliable  fingers,  if  he  would 
reach  the  hearts  of  listeners  through  the  keyboard. 
And  Paderewski  meets  the  demand. 

Though  there  are  other  virtuosi  who  can  interpret, 
say,  Chopin  and  Schumann,  to  gladden  the  heart  of 
the  enthusiast,  there  is  only  one  Paderewski.  Piano 
and  Paderewski  are  indeed,  somehow,  synonymous  as 
well  as  alliterative  in  the  mind  of  the  average  person  ; 
and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  name  will  long 
be  as  a  household  word  wherever  the  universal  lan- 
guage of  music  is  spoken. 

Probably  the  majority  of  his  listeners  would  find  it 
difficult  to  analyse  accurately  the  cause  of  their  exces- 
sive enjoyment  and  appreciation.  It  is  not  his  tech- 
nique, though  he  is  a  supreme  master  of  his  instru- 
ment. Nor  is  it  any  marked  or  obvious  trick  of  manner 
or  style  such  as  distinguish  the  playing  of  Chopin  by 
Pachmann,  of  Beethoven  by  D' Albert,  of  Mozart  by 
Pugno,  or  of  Liszt  by  Busoni.  The  individuality  of 
Paderewski  is  too  broad  to  be  limited  in  special  direc- 
tions, and  the  glamour  of  his  style,  which  fascinates 
and  holds  an  audience,  is  something  to  be  felt  and  en- 
joyed rather  than  argued  about. 

In  addition  to  striking  individuality  and  ripe  music- 
ianship, he  is  strongly  emotional,  and  possesses  that 
curiously  indefinable  thing  we  call  magnetism,  which 
never  fails  to  enchain  the  attention  of  the  public.  He 

50 


PADEREWSKI 

has  always  been  the  poet  playing  to  the  muses:  he  has 
never  played  down  to  the  level  of  the  street. 

Of  course  his  personal  appearance  must  be  allowed 
to  count  for  much  of  his  popularity.  That  flying  au- 
reole of  silky  hair  is — or  at  least  was  in  the  early  days 
— more  to  him  in  ducats  and  drawing  power  than  a 
third  hand  would  be.  Once  after  a  recital  in  Berlin, 
he  left  the  hall  and  hailed  a  cab.  The  driver  called 
out  rather  noisily:  "Where  to?"  Before  Paderewski 
had  time  to  reply,  one  of  the  crowd  of  bystanders 
shouted:  "To  the  barber."  Mrs.  Paderewski  told  a 
Yankee  interviewer  one  day  that  her  husband  couldn't 
act  like  other  men,  because  "  everywhere  he  goes  he 
is  stared  at  so."  The  pressman  asked:  "Why  doesn't 
he  get  his  hair  cut?"  "  Oh,  it  would  make  no  differ- 
ence. They  would  know  him,  and  he  would  be  stared 
at  just  as  much.  Besides,"  she  added,  "  the  public 
would  be  disappointed  if  his  hair  were  short." 

Of  course,  they  would !  As  another  Yankee  wrote : 
"  To  the  dear  women  every  strand  of  Paderewski's 
golden  hair  was  a  cable  that  pulled  tons.  His  low-cut 
shirt  and  turn-down  collar  were  full  of  subtle  poetic 
significance.  His  flowing  white  necktie  was  a  potent 
charm.  Even  the  patent  leather  pumps,  which  he  wore 
with  a  frock  coat,  and  with  which  he  vigorously  smote 
the  pedals,  were  an  attraction." 

Israel  Zangwill  says  there  are  three  reasons  why 
men  of  genius  wear  their  hair  long.  "One  is,  they  for- 
51 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

get  it  is  growing.  The  second  is  that  they  like  it.  The 
third  is  that  it  comes  cheaper:  they  wear  it  long  for  the 
same  reason  that  they  wear  their  hats  long."  Pade- 
rewski  wears  his  hair  long  because  it  is  a  valuable 
asset.  Regarded  from  a  distance,  his  head  has  the  ap- 
pearance of  thatof  an  ultra-fashionable  society  woman 
in  all  the  glory  of  the  latest  coiffure.  His  eyes  are  set 
so  far  back  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  they  are  like, 
and  having  no  music  to  read,  he  often  keeps  them 
closed.  His  face  is  like  the  Sphynx:  white,  placid, 
clear-cut,  and  absolutely  immobile.  During  the  rend- 
ering of  his  soul-moving  passages,  he  sits  almost  im- 
passive. He  does  not  rock  upon  his  seat,  nor  throw 
his  halo-surrounded  head  to  the  rhythm  of  the  music. 
Neither  do  his  hands  fly  from  the, key  board  after  the 
manner  of  the  third-rate  performer.  But  undoubtedly 
the  most  wonderful  thing  is  his  bowing.  No  young 
girl  after  a  course  at  a  school  of  deportment  bows  half 
so  gracefully  as  does  Mr.  Paderewski. 

The  main  details  of  Paderewski's  life  prior  to  his  ap- 
pearance in  public  are  soon  told.  He  was  born  in  a 
little  village  in  Russian  Poland  in  1860.  He  attributes 
his  talent  to  his  mother,  who  was  musical,  and  started 
him  playing  when  he  was  only  three.  His  father,  for 
some  political  offence,had  suffered  six  years'  imprison- 
ment in  Siberia.  When  the  boy  was  six,  he  took  his 
first  formal  piano  lessons.  He  remained  with  one 
master  for  four  years,  and  was  then  beyond  the  need 

52 


PADEREWSKI 

of  local  instruction.  When  he  was  twelve,  he  went  to 
the  Warsaw  Conservatoire,  and  after  six  years,  when 
the  Conservatoire  had  done  all  it  could  for  him,  he  was 
elected  a  professor  at  the  institution. 

Here  he  did  some  very  plain  living  and  some  very 
high  thinking.  Then,  at  twenty,  he  joined  the  staff  of 
the  Strassburg  Conservatoire.  There,  again,  to  use 
his  own  words,  he  was  "very  poor,  worked  very  hard, 
and  underwent  many  hardships."  As  a  fact,  he  was 
vulgarly  impecunious ;  and,  to  make  matters  worse, 
he  had  an  ailing  wife  on  his  hands,  having  married 
early.  She  took  ill  after  the  birth  of  her  first  child,  and 
it  is  said  that  her  husband's  inability  to  provide  her 
with  thenecessary nourishment  and  nursinghad  much 
to  do  with  her  premature  death.  Later,  Paderewski 
was  earning  over  ^"20,000  a  year ! 

When  she  was  nearing  her  end  Mme.  Paderewski 
confided  the  care  of  her  infant  to  her  friend  Mme. 
Helene  de  Rosen.  Some  years  afterwards,  Mme.  de 
Rosen  was  divorced  from  her  husband:  Paderewski 
married  her,  and  so  she  became  a  mother  to  the  little 
invalid  boy  who  had  long  learned  to  love  her.  The  boy 
suffered  from  a  spinal  trouble,  which  all  Paderewski's 
later  fortune  could  not  alleviate,  and  he  died  in  his 
sleep,  in  1901,  while  the  father  was  on  tour  in  Spain. 
Paderewski  used  to  tell  an  amusing  story  of  him.  They 
were  together  in  Paris,  and  Paderewski  was  to  give  a 
recital  at  the  Cirque.  The  boy  asked  if  he  might  go, 
53 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

and  the  pianist  consented.  When  the  boy  came  home 
his  father  asked  him  how  he  had  enjoyed  himself.  "Oh, 
not  at  all,"  was  the  youngster's  reply.  "It  was  the 
dullest  circus  I  have  ever  been  to.  I  expected  to  see 
yougo  through  hoops,  but  you  onlyplayedat  thepiano, 
just  as  you  do  at  home!" 

But  to  return.  All  these  early  days  of  his  poverty 
Paderewski  was  labouring  very  strenuously  towards 
the  developmentof  his  technique;  and  being  disgusted 
with  the  drudgery  of  teaching,  he  soon  began  to  think 
of  becoming  a  virtuoso.  To  this  end  he  must  find  a 
master  who  would  carry  forward  his  development  on 
the  right  lines.  Such  a  master  he  discovered  when,  in 
1 886,  he  went  to  Vienna,  and  put  himself  under  Theo- 
dor  Leschetitzky.  Of  Leschetitzky  he  speaks  in  terms 
of  the  deepest  affection.  He  had  only  about  thirty 
lessons  from  him,  but,  with  characteristic  modesty,  he 
gives  his  teacher  all  the  credit  of  his  subsequent  suc- 
cess. 

Paderewski  made  his  debut  \n  1887  before  the  criti- 
cal public  of  Vienna.  At  once  he  was  acclaimed  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  pianists  of  the  day;  and  from  that 
time  onwards  his  career  has  been  a  succession  of  tri- 
umphs. The  power  of  his  personality  was  such  in  his 
earlier  years,  that  he  often  worked  his  admirers  into  a 
frenzy;  andsceneswerewitnessedathis  recitals  which 
only  Liszthad  experienced.  For  example,at  St.  James' 
Hall,  London, ladiesrushedfromtheirseats  to  theplat- 

54 


PADEREWSKI 

form  inastruggle  togetas  near  the  pianist  as  possible. 
They  plucked  the  flowers  from  their  dresses,  and  held 
them  out  to  him,  over  the  heads  of  those  who  were  near. 
It  was  not  Paderewski's  fault  that  his  mere  person- 
ality and  appearance  carried  people  away  in  this  fash- 
ion. He  sought  to  please  by  his  art  alone,  and  he  took 
tremendous  pains  to  perfect  himself  as  a  performer. 
Liszt's  three  requisites  fora  great  pianist  were:  "Tech- 
nique, technique,  and  technique."  A  great  pianist,  as 
I  have  already  remarked,  assuredly  wants  something 
more  than  technique.  But  he  undoubtedly  wants  that 
first  and  above  all,  and  Paderewski  has  technique  in 
marvellous  abundance.  His  hands  are  so  delicate  that 
an  ordinarily  firm  shake  makes  him  wince;  but  his 
forearm  shows  a  muscular  development  of  which  an 
athlete  might  be  proud;  and  there  is  simply  nothing 
in  the  way  of  digital  dexterity  that  is  beyond  him.  The 
foundation  of  this  marvellous  execution  was  certainly 
laid  by  Leschetitzky;  but  the  foundation  has  been  so 
much  built  over  by  Paderewski  himself  that  the  struc- 
ture is  practically  his  own.  And  look  what  a  labour  he 
has  had  in  the  building!  The  amount  of  daily  prac- 
tice necessary  for  a  great  pianist  in  order  to  "keep  up" 
his  technique  would  seem  to  varygreatly.  Liszt  at  the 
zenith  of  his  power  used  to  practise  ten  hours  a  day; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  Rubinstein  practised  very 
little  after  he  had  made  his  name.  Sauer  is  said  to 
practise  only  four  hours  a  day. 
55 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Paderewski,  however,  beats  all  records  in  that  way. 
In  recent  years,  when  he  has  taken  more  to  composi- 
tion, he  has  practised  less,  but  his  daily  devotion  to  the 
keyboard  used  to  be  quite  phenomenal.  Somebody 
once  asked  him  when  he  practised.  "Why,  always," 
he  replied.  "One  must  always  be  at  it  to  keep  the  fin- 
gers right  and  the  memory  active."  Sometimes  he 
would  play  for  fifteen  or  sixteen  hours  a  day;  playing 
between  the  courses  at  meals,  while  dressing — in  fact, 
whenever  a  minute  could  be  spared. 

Once,in  New  York,  he  had  to  work  up  eight  entirely 
distinct  programmes  in  as  many  days,  and  then  he 
found  it  a  case  of  seventeen  hours  daily.  Of  course, 
this  meant  that  hemust  practise  half  through  the  night. 
And,  indeed,  Paderewski's  fondness  for  nocturnal 
wrestlings  with  the  piano  has  more  than  once  proved 
a  custom  less  appreciated  by  his  fellow  hotel  guests 
than  it  would  be  by  his  public  audience.  At  New  York, 
however,  he  varied  the  place  of  "disturbance"  by  one 
night  selecting  the  showroom  of  Messrs.  Stein  way,  the 
piano  makers.  On  the  evening  before  his  first  recital, 
he  left  his  hotel  for  a  stroll  about  9.30,  and  after  walk- 
ing about  Union  Square,  started  rapidly  off  to  Stein- 
way  Hall,  where  he  hammered  away  till  the  watchman 
let  him  in.  He  then  went  into  the  principal  wareroom, 
opened  the  biggest  piano  he  could  find,  had  the  gas 
lighted,  and  from  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  he  sat  there 
until  four  the  next  morning,  with  the  watchman  as  his 

56 


Pkotgr*ph  by  London  Sttrtoicofic  Cemjaty,  Ltd> 
PADXREWSKI 


PADEREWSKI 

"audience."  Then  he  went  home,  slept  for  ten  hours, 
and  was  ready  for  his  recital. 

Before  every  concert  hegives,  something  of  this  kind 
goes  on  in  the  way  of  practising.  The  night  preceding 
a  recital  hegoes  over  his  programme  repeatedly  andex- 
haustively,so  that  when  he  has  planned  out  his  execu- 
tion and  technique,  he  is  ready  for  his  audience.  Even 
when  travelling  on  the  railway  he  practises.  He  takes 
about  an  Erard  piano  with  him  in  a  special  saloon  car. 

Such  an  amount  of  practice  must  be  terribly  tiring. 
Some  might  even  think  that  it  would  defeat  its  own 
end  }>y  exhausting  the  player  completely  and  taking 
all  the  heart  out  of  him.  Paderewski  himself  admits 
that  it  is  tiring,  but  he  has  what  he  calls  "a  harmless 
secret"  to  account  for  his  ability  to  carry  it  on.  He 
plays  billiards,  and  playing  billiards,  he  says,  has  lit- 
erally saved  his  life.  If  he  walks  or  rides,  or  merely 
rests,  he  goes  on  thinking  all  the  time,  and  his  nerves 
get  no  rest.  But  when  he  plays  billiards  he  can  forget 
everything,  and  the  result  is  mental  rest  and  physical 
rest  combined.  In  this  way,  then,  does  Paderewski 
lighten  his  labours  at  the  piano.  Moreover,  he  keeps 
himself  as  far  as  possible  in  physical  "form"  by  pract- 
ising calisthenics  every  morning  after  rising;  and 
then  he  always  gives  his  nerves  a  rest  by  remaining 
perfectly  quiet  during  the  hours  preceding  a  recital. 
Naturally,  like  most  people  of  a  highly  sensitive  tem- 
perament, he  suffers  a  good  deal  from  insomnia;  and 
57 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

although  none  of  his  listeners  would  ever  imagine  it 
we  have  it,  on  his  own  authority,  that  he  is  a  martyr  to 
nervousness  when  before  the  public.  "  I  assure  you," 
he  once  said  to  an  interviewer,  "  I  go  through  positive 
tortures  when  I  have  to  playin  public."  Once  in  Amer- 
ica a  reporter  ventured  the  remark  that  the  only  per- 
son who  didn't  enjoy  the  recital  was  Paderewski  him- 
self. And  Paderewski  admitted  that  the  reporter  was 
right.  Paderewski's  nerves  are,  in  fact,  so  highly  strung 
that  the  vibration  of  the  shipduring  his  voyage  toAus- 
tralia  made  him  suffer  acutely.  He  had  four  pianos  on 
board,  but  was  only  able  to  practise  one  or  two  days 
during  the  voyage.  If  he  had  known  what  the  voyage 
meant,  he  would  never  have  undertaken  it,  he  said. 
With  delightful  irony,  he  once  revealed  to  an  Amer- 
ican paper  the  "whole  secret"  of  how  a  pianist  can  keep 
his  hands  supple.  "The  night  before  I  play,  I  turn  my 
hands  over  to  my  valet,  and  he  rubs  my  fingers  until 
they  tingle.  Then  he  takes  one  finger  after  the  other 
and  turns  and  twists  it  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  always 
turning  the  one  way.  That  makes  the  fingers  supple, 
and  keeps  the  knuckles  in  good  working  order.  Last 
he  rubs  the  palm  of  each  hand  very  hard — as  hard  as 
I  can  stand  it.  Just  before  I  go  on  the  platform  to  play 
I  have  a  basin  of  hot  water  brought  to  my  dressing- 
room.  In  this  I  immerse  my  hands.  Hot!  I  should 
say  so:  just  about  as  hot  as  it  is  possible  for  me  to 
stand  it." 

58 


PADEREWSKI 

As  a  man,  Paderewski  is  wholly  lovable.  He  is  gen- 
erous to  a  fault.  He  cannot  pass  a  blind  man  with- 
out giving  him  alms;  and  the  story  has  been  told  how, 
when  at  Yport,  he  used  to  play  on  the  sands  with 
the  children,  and  delighted  in  giving  them  money  as 
well  as  presents.  An  amusing  incident  happened  in 
connection  with  his  generosity  here.  He  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  one  little  fellow  because  he  was  more  poorly 
clad  than  the  others;  and  pained  at  seeing  the  pink 
feet  blistered  and  chafed  by  the  pebbles  and  shells  on 
the  beach,  he  took  him  to  a  boot  shop  and  bought  him 
a  serviceable  pair  of  boots.  Next  morning,  on  look- 
ing out  of  his  window,  he  was  amazed  to  see  that  the 
entire  population  of  shoeless  village  children  had  as- 
sembled outside  the  house  in  order  to  draw  his  atten- 
tion to  their  little  bare  feet ! 

Paderewski  is  well  known  among  his  friends  as  a 
wit  who  has  generally  a  ready  answer  even  in  English, 
a  language  which  he  has  mastered  with  wonderful 
ease.  One  night  he  was  to  be  the  chief  performer  at 
a  smart  private  concert,  but,  unfortunately,  he  was 
detained  in  arriving,  and  did  not  turn  up  until  he  was 
just  in  time  to  hear  the  hostess  say  to  a  guest,  a  well- 
known  polo  player  and  an  excellent  amateur  musician: 
"Oh !  Captain,  do  be  a  dear  kind  soul  and  play  us  a 
solo  until  Paderewski  arrives."  Paderewski  did  not 
make  himself  known  to  his  hostess  until  after  the  cap- 
tain had  finished  his  solo,  and  then  turning  to  the 
59 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

amateur,  he  gracefully  congratulated  him  upon  his 
performance.  "Ah,"  said  the  young  man  modestly, 
"  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  congratulate  me,  but  no- 
body is  more  painfully  aware  of  the  fact  of  how  great 
a  difference  there  is  between  us."  "Oh!"  replied 
Paderewski,  "the  difference  isn't  so  very  great  after 
all — you  are  a  dear  soul  who  plays  polo,  while  I  am 
a  poor  Pole  who  plays  solo ! " 

The  great  pianist  is  an  intensely  patriotic  Pole. 
Once  he  began  a  large  subscription  to  a  Polish  com- 
mittee at  Posen,  whose  object  was  to  prevent  Prussian 
Poland  from  being  Germanised,  and  as  a  consequence, 
the  Prussian  Government  forbade  the  performance 
of  his  opera  "  Manru."  When  in  Australia,  the  de- 
mand for  his  autograph  was  overwhelming,  so  he 
decided  to  charge  half-a-crown  per  autograph,  and 
the  money  went  to  the  Chopin  Memorial  Hall  at 
Warsaw.  In  1910  he  unveiled  a  colossal  statue  of  King 
Jagello  which  he  had  erected  at  Cracow  at  a  cost  of 
£20,000. 

Paderewski  is  not  melancholy,  as  many  have  im- 
agined. Indeed,  his  disposition  is  cheerful  in  the  ex- 
treme. Like  Rubinstein,  he  is  fond  of  cigarettes;  and 
although  some  silly  people  used  to  indulge  the  no- 
tion that  he  lived  on  lemons  and  soda,  those  who  are 
intimate  with  him  know  differently.  He  is  sturdy, 
many-sided,  and  cosmopolitan,  and  well-posted  on 

public  questions.  He  never  signs  an  agreement, and  he 

60 


PADEREWSKI 

has  never  failed  to  keep  an  engagement  except  through 
serious  illness.  Among  those  who  have  been  con- 
nected with  him  in  a  business  capacity  his  word  is  as 
good  as  his  bond — better  than  his  bond,  in  fact.  Like 
most  travelled  and  travelling  foreigners,  he  is  a  capital 
linguist.  He  speaks  Polish,  of  course,  being  a  Pole; 
but  he  also  speaks  Russian,  French,  German,  English, 
and — as  some  cynic  has  put  it — "  a  little  American." 
Somebody  says  he  knows  Shakespeare  from  cover  to 
cover.  Like  all  Poles,  he  is  superstitious.  He  has  an  ex- 
traordinary memory,  and  the  repertoire  from  which  he 
can  draw  without  book  at  a  moment's  notice  is  practic- 
ally without  limit. 

Paderewski  now  lives  in  a  richly  wooded  park  on 
the  shoresof  Lake  Geneva,  cheered  by  the  companion- 
ship of  his  wife.  He  used  to  have  a  farm  in  Poland, 
but  gave  it  up  because  he  was  losing  money  on  it. 
He  has  taken  another  at  Merges,  near  Lausanne,  and 
makes  a  speciality  of  live  stock — a  strange  hobby  for  a 
popular  pianist.  He  may  be  seen  talkingwith  farmers 
by  the  hour  about  cattle,  but  if  they  mention  music, 
he  shuts  up  like  a  trap.  When  in  Ireland  a  few  years 
ago  he  bought  some  pigs  from  a  farmer  and  had  them 
sent  over  to  his  estate.  Next  week  the  farmer  took  a 
dozen  of  the  remaining  pigs  to  market.  "Ach,  yer 
pigs  are  as  thin  as  greyhounds,  Paddy,"  remarked  a 
prospective  buyer.  "Begorra,  sorr,  an'  that  shows  all 

yez  knows  about  them.  Why,  it  was  only  last  week 
61 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

I  sold  tin  av  the  same  lot  to  Mr.  Paderewski,  the  great 
Polish  pig-dealer!" 

Paderewski  has  done  some  notable  things  in  com- 
position, but  it  is  as  the  virtuoso  pianist  that  he  will 
be  remembered. 


CHAPTER  NINE  PACHMANN 
SOMEBODY  ONCE  SAID  OF  PACHMANN: 
"He  is  not  so  much  a  pianist  as  a  personality."  And, 
indeed,it  mustbe  admitted  that, though  his  abilities  as 
a  pianist  astonish  one,  the  man  himself  is  unique.  He 
hasimpressed  his  personality  upon  the  public  in  away 
and  to  an  extent  which  no  other  pianist  has  been  able 
to  do.  His  impromptu  lectures,  his  confidential  asides, 
and  his  friendly  smilesmay  annoy  some,  but  they  please 
a  great  number  of  people;  whether  they  be  the  con- 
scious tricks  of  a  shrewd  actor  or  the  nai've outbursts  of 
a  genius,  there  is  art  of  itself  in  the  way  in  which  Pach- 
mann  can  hold  theattentionofacrowded concert-room. 
No  other  pianist  in  the  world  dare  so  much  as  attempt 
a  quarter  of  the  things  Pachmann  does  with  complete 
success. 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  he  seldom  does  him- 
self justice  in  the  opening  number  of  his  programme. 
Atonerecital  he  found  fault  with  his  chair,  was  visibly 
annoyed  by  his  shirt  collar,  and  confided  to  the  nearest 
members  of  theaudiencethat  it  was  impossible  to  play 
in  such  a  heated  atmosphere.  During  his  American 
tour  of  1 89 1-92,  he  was  accompanied  by  his  wife,  who, 
as  Miss  Okey,  had  been  one  of  his  pupils.  She  gave 
some  recitals  in  New  York,  and  Pachmann  made  him- 
self amusing  by  sitting  among  the  audience  and  ap- 
plauding vigorously.  He  went  through  marvellous 
contortions  expressive  of  delight,  and  was  continually 
shouting  "Charmante!"  "Magnifique!"  &c. 
63 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

After  all,  why  should  the  musician  not  seek  to  enter 
into  personal  relations  with  his  audience,  if  to  do  so 
happens  to  suit  his  fancy?  Pachmann  is  all  through 
the  friend  of  his  audience.  Suppose  he  plays  a  scale. 
It  is  like  a  string  of  pearls.  "JSonf"  he  says,  delight- 
edly. And  he  is  quite  right :  it  is  beautiful.  Or  the 
charm  of  some  passage  strikes  him  anew.  "The  mel- 
ody !"  he  exclaims  enthusiastically,  and  he  marks  out 
the  melody  for  a  bar  or  two,  so  that  the  audience  may 
be  under  no  mistake.  It  is  a  recital  and  a  lecture  in 
one.  Preposterous!  some  people  say.  But  the  listener 
who  cannot  profit  by  the  remarks  of  Pachmann,  knows 
more  than  Pachmann,  and  that  kind  of  listener  is  not 
usually  present  at  his  recitals! 

It  is  best  to  accept  the  strange  pianist  as  he  is,  with 
all  his  foibles.  He  is  undoubtedly  a  genius.  And  all 
this  elaborate  presentment  ofhispersonalityisno  mere 
pose,  as  many  think:  it  is  a  thing  natural  to  himself; 
a  manner  over  which  he  has  no  control.  Moreover,  his 
behaviour,  however  unusual  it  may  look,  never  upsets 
his  superlative  playing. 

Those  who  have  not  seen  Pachmann  play  can  have 
no  idea  of  what  there  is  to  "see,"  as  well  as  to  hear. 
Hewillplacehis  hand  on  his  heart,  and  shake  his  head 
sorrowfully.  He  winks,  gesticulates,  sighs,  talks.  In 
the  middle  of  an  exquisite  passage,  he  will  turn  to  those 
seated  around  him  on  the  platform ,  and  seek  to  heigh  ten 

the  effect  of  the  music  by  a  series  of  ecstatic  exclam- 

64 


PACHM 


PACHMANN 

ations,  perfectly  sincere  if  somewhat  disconcerting.  He 
is  always  on  intimate  terms  with  those  sitting  in  the 
first  few  rows.  If  any  one  should  seem  to  be  resenting 
his  magnetic  stare,  he  heeds  not:  those  dark,  heavy 
eyes  will  still  linger  upon  that  face,  and  he  will  still 
give  the  impression  that  he  is  playing  for  that  indiv- 
idual alone. 

I  have  seen  him  leave  the  platform  after  a  dozen  re- 
calls, drawing  from  his  pocket  an  immaculate  hand- 
kerchief, unfold  it,  and  wave  it  in  a  last  farewell.  If 
any  one  else  did  this,  it  would  be  ridiculous.  Done  by 
Pachmann,  it  was  most  graceful.  He  does  not  pose  at 
the  piano,  as  some  do,  gazing  abstractedly  forward  in 
complete  absorption.  He  turns  his  face  to  the  public, 
fixing  them  with  his  glowing  black  eyes,  and  holding 
them  in  complete  control.  If  he  hears  so  much  as  a 
whisper  while  he  is  playing,  he  promptly  calls  the 
offender  to  order.  If  he  is  getting  more  applause  than 
he  thinks  is  agreeable,  his  gesticulations  with  hands 
and  arms  indicate  that  there  has  been  enough  disturb- 
ance. If  a  repetition  of  some  piece  is  insisted  on,  he 
does  not  yield  unconditionally,  but  first  consults  his 
watch  to  see  if  there  is  time. 

Whether  genius  is  conscious  of  its  own  powers  has 
often  been  debated.  Pachmann,  at  least,  has  no  doubt 
about  his  standing.  "  Je  suis  le  roi  des  pianists,"  he 
says.  Being  once  asked  to  name  the  first  five  living 

pianists  in  order  of  merit,  he  began:  "Second,  God- 
65  E 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

owsky;  third,  Rosenthal;  fourth,  Paderewski;  fifth, 
Busoni !"  English  audiences,  he  says,  "are  often  cold, 
but  never  when  I  play.  When  I  go  on  the  platform  it 
sometimes  takes  four  or  five  minutes  before  I  can  be- 
gin, and  when  I  am  finished  they  shout  and  scream." 
He  is  not  fond  of  the  critics,  and  to  an  American  inter- 
viewer he  told  the  truth  about  them  in  his  own  charac- 
teristic way.  "Critics,"  said  the  great  little  man,  in  a 
burst  of  indignation,  "critics  are  a  canaille — a  set  of 
villainous  rascals.  I  never  read  what  they  write.  What 
harm  can  they  do  to  my  genius,  my  grand  genius? 
What  care  I,  so  long  as  my  mere  name  suffices  to  at- 
tract the  people?  The  people  admire  and  adore  me. 
To  them  I  am  a  god.  Kings,  queens,  and  high  nobility 
have  kissed  my  hands.  What,  then,  have  I  to  fear 
from  critics?" 

He  is  something  of  a  humorist,  too,  this  little  man 
who  is  big  at  the  keyboard.  Once  he  saw  an  advertise- 
ment of  piano  lessons  given  by  a  lady  at  tenpence  an 
hour.  He  answered  the  advertisement  in  person,  and 
on  being  asked  to  give  a  specimen  of  his  abilities,  sat 
down  and  bungled  through  a  Chopin  waltz.  "That's 
shocking,"  said  the  lady.  "  You've  been  very  badly 
taught."  "Yes,"  replied  Pachmann,  "but  I  began  so 
late."  Then  he  paid  his  fee,  and  left  his  card  in  the 
hand  of  the  petrified  instructress. 

As  a  pianist  Pachmann  has  a  fashion  all  his  own. 

He  does  wonderful  things  with  his  fingers,  and  his 

66 


PACHMANN 

tone  quality  is  beautiful — soft,  sweet,  and  caressing. 
There  is  no  doubt  a  want  of  breadth,  of  nobility,  of 
manliness,  of  intellectuality  about  his  playing;  and 
considerations  of  the  intentions  of  the  composer 
probably  never  occur  to  him.  But  he  is  a  superb 
artist  both  in  conception  and  development.  His  play- 
ing is  thoughtful  and  charged  with  sentiment,  and 
as  an  interpreter  of  Chopin  he  is  absolutely  unriv- 
alled. 

Vladimir  de  Pachmann  was  born  at  Odessa  in  1848, 
where  his  father  was  a  professor  in  the  University, 
and  a  good  amateur  violinist.  When  eighteen  he  was 
sent  to  Vienna  Conservatoire,  and  subsequently  car- 
ried off  the  gold  medal  there.  Returning  to  Russia  in 
1869,  he  gave  a  series  of  successful  recitals,  but  he  was 
not  satisfied  with  himself,  and  retired  for  eight  years' 
hard  study.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  made  appear- 
ances in  Leipzig,  Berlin,  and  other  places;  but,  still 
dissatisfied,  retired  again  for  two  years. 

Emergingfrom  his  seclusion,he  gave  three  concerts 
in  Vienna  and  three  in  Paris,  and  now  feeling  himself 
perfect  in  his  art,  he  started  on  that  career  of  concert- 
giving  which  has  made  him  everywhere  famous.  There 
is  very  little  gossip  about  his  private  life;  but  the  in- 
teresting fact  may  be  stated  that,  after  divorce,  Mme. 
Pachmann,  already  mentioned,  became  the  wife  of 
Maftre  Labori,the  famous  French  lawyer  who  defend- 
ed Captain  Dreyfus  in  1899. 
67 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Pachmann  is  very  short  in  stature — so  much  so 

that  after  hearing  him  play,  one  might  well  be  tempted 

to  lay  down  the  axiom:  "The  smaller  the  man,  the 

greater  the  artist."    He  has  recently  decided  to  make 

his  home  in  Berlin. 


CHAPTER  TEN  EMIL  SAUER 
THERE  IS  NO  GREATER  PIANIST  AT  THE 
present  time  than  Emil  Sauer.  His  individuality  is 
almost  as  well  defined  and  as  fascinating  as  that  of 
Paderewski  or  Pachmann,and  his  technique  is  as  mar- 
vellously perfect  as  theirs  or  Busoni's.  Pugno  says  he 
is  the  greatest  of  the  four  great,  the  others  being  Bus- 
oni,  D'Albert,  and  Siloti.  His  characteristics  are  so 
heroic  that  it  is  even  permissible  to  evoke  the  shades 
of  Liszt  and  Rubinstein  if  we  desire  to  multiply  our 
comparisons. 

This  man  with  the  sympathetic  face  has  everything 
necessary  for  the  pianist.  Dignity,  breadth,  and  depth 
are  evident  He  has  temperament  enough  for  three 
players,  but  wonderfully  controlled.  He  plays  at  times, 
as  an  American  writersays,  like  one  possessed,  but  his 
supreme  taste  enables  him  to  avoid  excess  and  mere 
sensationalism.  Exciting  in  a  high  degree  is  his  build- 
ingup  of  climaxes,  but  he  never  indulges  in  noise,  nor, 
in  his  wildest  flights,  do  we  miss  a  noble  self-restraint 
and  pose. 

Emil  Sauer  is  a  native  of  Hamburg,  where  he  was 
born  in  1862.  He  had  for  mother  a  Scotswoman,  Miss 
Gordon,  and  he  speaks  English  perfectly.  At  first  he 
was  intended  for  the  law,  but  Anton  Rubinstein  heard 
him  play  when  quite  young,  and  recommended  his  be- 
ing sent  to  the  Moscow  Conservatoire.  Herehe  remain- 
ed for  two  years,  and  then  entered  on  au  extensive  ser- 
ies of  concert  tours.  Later  on,  he  made  the  acquaint- 
69 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

ance  of  Liszt,  who  became  his  friend  and  counsellor, 
and  with  whom  he  studied  at  Weimar  for  a  year.  To 
have  been  on  intimate  terms  with  these  two  phenome- 
nal pianists,  Rubinstein  and  Liszt,  would  have  been  a 
fortunate  thing  for  any  young  musician,  but  especially 
for  one  so  gifted  as  Sauer.  The  interregnum  with  Liszt 
was  one  of  the  very  few  pauses  in  a  virtuosic  career 
which  has  been  distinguished  by  exceptional  activity, 
and  has  takenhimoveravery large  portionof  the  globe. 
He  paid  his  premier  visit  to  London  in  1 894,  and  he 
appeared  first  in  America,at  NewYork,  in  1899,  when 
he  was  described  as  "  a  slim  man  of  evidently  nervous 
temperament."  In  the  course  of  his  extensive  tours  he 
has  received  a  great  number  of  tokens  of  royal  and 
official  appreciation.  In  all  he  is  a  member  of  over 
eighteen  Orders,  the  latest  being  the  French  Legion 
of  Honour.  Since  the  existence  of  that  Order,  it  is  the 
first  instance  of  its  bestowal  on  a  German  pianist, 
though  Sauer  shares  it  with  Liszt,  Rubinstein,  and 
Paderewski.  In  this  connection  a  critic  writes:  "It 
seems  a  pity  that  the  public  should  only  have  a  bald 
list  of  these  distinctions;  and  it  might  be  advisable  for 
such  artists  as  possess  a  goodly  store  of  much-valued 
emblems  of  royal  admiration  to  appear  fully  decorated 
with  them  at  their  concerts, even  though  the  burden  of 
them  might  interfere  with  the  technical  display."  The 
idea  of  a  recital  pianist  being  decorated  like  a  war 

veteran  is  distinctly  novel. 

70 


EMIL    SAUER 

Sauer  is  very  impatient  of  interruptions  while  he  is 
playing.  Once  at  an  Edinburgh  recital  an  interesting 
little  incident  happened.  There  be  those  who,  like 
Charles  Lamb,  seem  to  perceive  a  mystic  connection 
between  an  unpunctual  arrival  and  a  premature  de- 
parture. Some  like-minded  persons  went  a  step  further 
at  Edinburgh,  and  proceeded  to  leave  the  hall  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  Sauer's  solos.  He  stopped  immedi- 
ately, watched  them  go,  and  then  began  again.  It  was 
an  affront,  doubtless  quite  unintentional,  which  would 
have  provoked  a  curate  to  strong  language.  There  was 
a  round  of  sympathetic  applause  as  Sauer  resumed  his 
solo,  but  he  did  not  smile. 

Once  at  a  Saturday  "Pop"  in  London  he  was  com- 
pelled to  interrupt  his  performance  by  the  impertinent 
tinkling  of  a  muffin  bell  in  the  street.  He  was  just  be- 
ginning Chopin's  Fantasia  in  F  minor,  when  the  knell 
of  the  perambulating  baker  fell  on  his  ear.  What  could 
he  do  but  pause  until  the  rival  instrumentalist  had 
passed  out  of  range  ?  A  commenting  critic  said  it  was 
"humiliating  for  a  celebrated  pianist  to  be  brought  to 
a  standstill  by  a  muffin  bell."  But,  really,  amusing  in- 
cidents of  that  kind  tend  to  agreeably  vary  the  mono- 
tony of  existence. 

As  a  composer,  Sauer,  like  Chopin,  has  devoted  him- 
self almost  exclusively  to  the  pianoforte,  though  he  has 
written  also  a  few  songs.  At  his  recitals  he  usually 
plays  some  of  his  own  works.  The  path  of  the  pianist 
71 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

who  composes  is  apt  to  be  somewhat  like  the  path  of 
the  transgressor — hard.  Everybody  wants  to  hear 
him  play  somebody  else's  music.  Too  frequently  no- 
body wants  to  hear  anybody  play  his.  A  disparaging 
pressman  once  unkindly  said  of  Paderewski  that  he 
loses  the  money  he  makes  as  a  pianist  producing  large 
works  for  a  coldandunsympatheticpublic.  EmilSauer 
is  not  of  this  kind.  His  works  are,  as  a  rule,  good 
enough  for  himself  or  anybody  else  to  play,  and  his 
audiences  hear  them  gladly. 


SAT 


XI.  MORITZ  ROSENTHAL 

WHENMORITZ  ROSENTHAL  FIRST  VISITED 
London  in  1895,  Richter  introduced  the  newcomer  to 
his  orchestra  with  these  words:  "Gentlemen,  this  is 
the  king  of  pianists."  Something  of  the  same  kind 
had  been  said  before. 

"I  never  knew  what  technique  was  until  I  heard 
Rosenthal,"  exclaimed  Rubinstein.  Hanslick,  thefam- 
ous  German  critic,  called  him  a  "pianoforte  conjurer," 
while  another  well-known  critic  described  him  as  "a 
Cagliostro among  the  young  pianists."  When  hefirst 
toured  America  in  1888,  some  enthusiast  said  he  was 
a  thunderbolt ! 

Rosenthal  was  born  in  1862,  at  Lemberg,  an  Aus- 
trian city  in  the  province  of  Galicia.  His  father  was 
a  professor  at  the  principal  educational  institution  in 
the  place ;  and  it  was  no  doubt  from  him  that  Moritz 
derived  the  germs  of  that  general  culture,  and  also,  it 
may  be  assumed,  that  partiality  for  intellectual  pur- 
suits, which  distinguish  him  among  his  artistic  breth- 
ren. For  Rosenthal  is  devoted  to  literature.  His 
favourite  poet  is  Heine,  and  he  can  repeat  any  of 
Heine's  poems  if  you  give  him  the  first  line.  He  has 
written  freely  on  musical  subjects,  and  has  measured 
pens  with  some  of  his  critics  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
show  that  he  has  a  ready  and  pungent  wit. 

Thus,  in  the  Vienna  Die  Zeitt  he  once  (in  1895) 
tackled  a  critic  who  objected  to  his  untraditional  read- 
ings of  certain  classics — tackled  him  in  this  style: 
73 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

"German  criticism  has  demanded  a  slavish  imita- 
tion of  authority,  the  inevitableness  and  freezing  of  the 
shading  in  tone  and  tempo,  the  banishment  of  all  rights 
to  musical  definition,  in  a  word,  the  ideal  hand-organ. 
Genius  cannot  bear  tradition.  Tradition  is  a  crutch  for 
the  lame,  but  one  cannot  fly  with  it.  Tradition  does 
not  even  acquaint  us  with  the  tempi,  as  the  composer 
feels  differently  in  the  various  situations  of  life,  and  at 
different  episodes.  You  artists  of  the  holy  order  of 
tradition,  who  walk  about  heavily,  measured,  with  a 
swollen  breast  of  unexpressive,  mannered  manner- 
isms,your  stiff  elegance,your  poverty  of  phrases  which 
you  lovingly  spread  over  art — I  leave  to  you  your 
affected  affectation,  your  blunt  understanding,  your 
unbounded  narrowness.  We  no  longer  want  'true 
servants  of  art;  what  we  need  are  masters." 

Strong  and  sweeping,  but  not  untrue.  Some  of  the 
redundancies  are  very  expressive,  such  as  "mannered 
mannerisms,"  "affected  affectation,"  and  the  amusing 
Irishism,  "unbounded  narrowness." 

Musically,  Rosenthal  was  something  of  a  prodigy. 
He  was  only  ten  when  he  became  a  pupil  of  CarlMikuli, 
thedirector  of  theLemberg  Conservatoire,  andamonth 
or  two  of  study  enabled  him  to  appear  with  his  master 
in  a  public  performance  of  Chopin's  Rondo  in  C  for 
two  pianos.  Thus  far  there  had  been  no  special  inten- 
tion that  the  boy  should  adopt  a  musical  career.  But 
Fate  often  hangs  on  trifling  incidents.  In  1 872  Rosen- 
thai  set  out  on  foot  for  Vienna  to  see  Rafael  Joseffy, 

74 


MORITZ    ROSENTHAL 

and  consult  with  him  about  his  future.  Joseffy  heard 
him  play,  and  agreed  to  take  him  as  a  pupil. 

Presently  the  Rosenthal  family  moved  to  Vienna, 
and  Moritz  pursued  his  studies  under  congenial  con- 
ditions. He  made  his  dtbut  in  1876,  playing  Beeth- 
oven's Thirty-two  Variations,  Chopin's  F  minor  Con- 
certo, and  some  pieces  by  Liszt  and  Mendelssohn. 
Liszt  was  present,  and  warmly  praised  the  player. 
"There  is  within  you  a  great  pianist  who  will  surely 
work  his  way  out,"  he  said.  Rosenthal  was  accepted 
into  the  much-envied  ranks  of  Liszt's  pupils,  as  per- 
haps the  youngest  of  his  disciples.  "His  highly  en- 
couraging prognostication  sounded  to  me  then  like  a 
magic  word,  which  seemed  to  open  wide  for  me  the 
door  of  art  and  of  the  future;  and  I  followed  him,  the 
great  magician,  to  Weimar,  Rome,  and  Tivoli."  Was 
there  ever  such  a  dazzling  luminary  of  the  keyboard 
as  Franz  Liszt?  Rosenthal's  reminiscences  of  him  are 
among  the  best  things  he  has  written. 

A  concert  tour  through  Roumania  followed  the 
Vienna  appearance  of  1876,  and  at  Bucharest  this  lad 
of  fourteen  was  appointed  Court  pianist.  Though  he 
had  begun  serious  study  with  Liszt,  he  was  evidently 
still  somewhat  undecided  about  his  future,  for  while 
he  worked  hard  at  music,  he  was  a  student  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Vienna,  where  he  went  through  the  usual 
course  in  philosophy, and  took  the  M.A.  degree.  About 
the  time  that  he  went  to  Liszt,  he  made  a  number  of 
75 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

appearances  in  St.  Petersburg,  Paris,  and  elsewhere; 
but  after  that  he  abandoned  public  musical  life  entire- 
ly, and  did  not  come  before  the  world  again  for  six 
years.  Re-entered  on  his  virtuosic  career,  a  long  series 
of  concert  tours  in  Europe  and  America  followed  each 
other  in  rapid  succession,  and  have  continued  to  the 
present  time. 

Rosenthal  possesses  a  stupendous  technique  equal 
to  anything.  His  peculiar  temperament,  sometimes 
hard,  but  never  lean  in  its  expression  of  musical  truths, 
readily  lends  itself  to  the  grandiloquent,  the  magnific- 
ent, the  sonorous,  the  nobility  in  decoration,  and  all 
that  is  lofty  and  sublimated  in  pure  thought.  But  "he 
misses,or  rather  neglects,the  softer,serener  side  of  art. 
There  is  no  twilight  in  his  playing,  yet  he  controls 
every  nuance  of  the  piano  palette.  Pachmann  and  Ros- 
enthal can  both  draw  from  the  instrument  remarkably 
varied  tonal  qualities.  Rosenthal's  tone  is  the  thun- 
derbolt, Pachmann's  like  a  rose-leaf;  yet  Rosenthal, 
because  of  sheer  power,  can  whisper  quite  as  poetical- 
ly as  the  Russian." 

Such  is  the  verdict  of  an  American  critic.  As  a  fact, 
of  no  other  artist  can  it  be  said  with  any  semblance  of 
truth  that  he  combines  all  the  virtues  and  avoids  all  the 
vices  of  pianoforte-playing.  In  spite  of  the  formidable 
list  of  great  pianists  who  have  gained  the  public  ear, 
the  name  of  Rosenthal  remains  one  to  conjure  with. 


76 


CHAP.  XII.       MARK  HAMBOURG 

MR.  MARK  HAMBOURG,  WHO  TRAVELS  TO 
and  fro  upon  the  earth,  delighting  great  audiences, 
has  now  lived  for  thirty-four  years,  but  many  will  still 
remember  and  think  of  him  as  an  infant  prodigy.  He 
did  not  like  being  exploited  and  feted  as  a  prodigy. 
Ladies  insisted  on  kissing  him  and  stroking  his  hair, 
and  he  found  it  "so  tiresome."  They  brought  him 
flowers,  though  he  told  them  that  bouquets  were  no 
use  to  him;  and  at  last  he  made  it  a  rule  that  the  ladies 
couldn't  kiss  him  if  they  only  brought  flowers:  they 
must  bring  sweets,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  sweets. 
In  those  days,  when  he  was  about  nine  or  ten,  he 
"did  not  love  practising  a  bit."  In  fact  the  naughty 
little  boy  would  sometimes  run  wood  splinters  into  his 
fingers  so  that  he  shouldn't  be  able  to  practise !  The 
idea  of  having  to  play  was  repugnant  to  him  until  he 
made  his  first  formal  public  appearance.  He  recalls 
that  they  would  keep  taking  him  to  big  colleges  to 
make  him  play  before  the  scholars.  He  didn't  like  this 
at  all,  because  he  knew  that  the  other  boys  had  a  con- 
tempt for  him  as  a  sort  of  little  freak.  "They  had  to 
applaud  me,  whereas  it  was  easy  to  see  they  would 
have  preferred  to  punch  my  head.  I  was  sorry  not  to 
be  allowed  out  in  the  playground  with  them,  because 
if  they'd  started  anything  of  that  sort  I  think  I  could 
pretty  soon  have  taught  them  to  respect  me."  For 
Mark  Hambourg  has  always  had  a  taste  for  athletics, 
regarding  it  as  very  important  for  a  musician  to  main- 
tain his  health  and  physique. 
77 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Hambourg  was  born  at  Bogutschar,  South  Russia, 
in  1879.  Soon  after  his  parents  were  married,  they 
had  been  arrested  and  imprisoned  on  a  charge  of  Nih- 
ilism. They  were  certainly  not  Nihilists,  but  they 
had  friends  who  were,  and  that  created  a  suspicion. 
Eventually  they  were  released,  and  they  removed  to 
London.  The  father,  Michael  Hambourg,  gave  Mark 
his  first  lessons,  and  directed  all  his  prodigy  period. 
Then,  on  the  advice  of  Dr.  Richter,  he  was  sent  to 
Leschetitzky,  at  Vienna,  with  whom  he  studied  for 
nearly  three  years.  It  is  said  that  Leschetitzky  re- 
turned him  all  the  fees  he  had  paid,  with  the  remark: 
"Take  this,  for  you  will  need  it  in  your  career."  An 
extract  from  a  fellow-pupil's  diary  gives  a  vivid  pict- 
ure of  him  in  class:  "He  marched  up  to  the  piano  and 
sat  down  as  usual,  with  a  jerk,  looking  like  a  juvenile 
thunder-cloud.  When  he  stopped,  we  burst  into  a 
storm  of  applause,  but,  grim  little  hero  that  he  is,  he 
was  off  into  the  drawing-room  almost  before  we  began 
to  clap.  Professor  turned  round  to  us  and  murmured : 
'He  has  a  future;  he  can  play.'" 

At  the  age  of  fifteen  Hambourg  made  his  debut  as  a 
soloist  at  a  Philharmonic  concert  in  Vienna,  Richter 
being  the  conductor.  Since  then,  as  he  puts  it  himself, 
"I  have  been  to  Australia,  America,  and  in  fact  pretty 
well  all  over  the  world."  He  has  given  something  like 
2000  recitals.  He  once  gave  one  in  Milan  on  May  21 
and  one  in  Cardiff  on  May  23 !  The  mental  strain  is 

78 


MARK    HAMBOURG 

enormous,  and  he  would  never  be  able  to  stand  it  but 
for  the  distractions  of  stamp-collecting  and  photo- 
graphy. He  says  that  his  happiest  hour  is  after  re- 
turning from  a  recital.  He  goes  to  his  study  and 
plays  and  composes  as  long  as  the  spirit  moves  him. 

He  is  somewhat  cynical  about  his  calling.  The  pro- 
fessional pianist,  he  declares,  "has  enemies  all  through 
life.  First  his  family  and  neighbours,  when,  as  a  child, 
he  begins  to  practise;  next,  as  he  succeeds, every  pian- 
istwho  is  less  successful;  next  all  piano  makersexcept 
the  one  he  patronises ;  next  all  musical  agents  except 
his  own ;  next  organists  in  general;  next  patriotic  crit- 
ics when  he  is  in  a  foreign  land;  and  last  the  conduct- 
or of  the  orchestra,  who  wants  all  the  credit  for  him- 
self." 

Many  will  think  it  curious  to  find  him  insisting  that 
an  artist  cannot  be  too  nervous.  "I  don't  mean  that 
he  should  be  afraid,  but  his  nervous  system  cannot  be 
too  sensitive,  too  highly-strung,  too  ready  to  receive 
impressions.  When  a  musician  plays  in  the  evening, 
he  reflects  impressions  received  in  the  morning — im- 
pressions derived  from  nature  or  from  society.  If  he 
plays  a  piece  a  hundred  times,  it  will  be  a  different 
performance  on  each  occasion.  A  musician  can  ex- 
press any  mood  in  any  piece;  but  of  course  he  could 
not  put  gaiety  into  a  slow  movement,  or  sadness  into 
a  quick  one." 

In  his  travels  Mr.  Hambourg  has  naturally  had 
79 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

some  adventures.    Talking  to  an  interviewer  about 
them  he  said: 

"I  had  two  narrow  escapes  in  America.  Once,  at 
a  time  of  floods,  our  train  had  just  crossed  over  a  swol- 
len river,  when  the  bridge  completely  collapsed.  On 
another  occasion,  I  was  very  much  annoyed  because, 
owing  to  somebody's  mismanagement,  I  lost  a  train  that 
it  was  very  important  to  catch.  But  anger  changed  to 
a  very  different  emotion  when  news  arrived  that  that 
particular  train  had  gone  over  an  embankment,  all  the 
unfortunate  passengers  being  killed  outright  or  badly 
injured.  On  my  first  visit  to  the  States,  the  journey 
from  San  Francisco  to  Denver  yielded  some  excite- 
ment. We  had  been  waiting  half  an  hour  at  a  wayside 
station,  when,  growing  impatient,  we  made  inquiries, 
and  were  dumbfounded  to  find  that  our  car  had  been 
inadvertently  unhitched,  and  that  the  train  had  gone 
on  without  us.  As  I  was  due  to  play  at  Denver  next 
day,  it  was  a  terrible  predicament  for  me.  But  a  solu- 
tion was  found.  The  railway  people  provided  us  with 
a  special  locomotive  capable  of  overtaking  the  mail 
before  nightfall.  But  while  they  were  hitching  it  on, 
the  supposed  cause  of  our  trouble  was  discovered,  in 
that  our  party  numbered  thirteen.  Sixty  miles  an 
hour  on  a  rough  road  is  a  sufficiently  hazardous  ex- 
perience to  contemplate  at  the  best  of  times,  but  for 
thirteen  travellers  to  take  the  risk  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.  That,  at  least,  was  the  view  of  the  superstitious 
members  of  our  party.  Something  must  be  done,  and 
quickly — but  what?  Nobody  cared  to  alight  at  that 
out-of-the-way  station;  hundreds  of  miles  from  every- 
where. Well,  there  chanced  to  be  a  preoccupied  old 

80 


MARK    HAMBOURG 

nigger  sauntering  about  the  platform,  and  before  that 
old  nigger  knew  what  had  happened  he  had  been  kid- 
napped and  thrust  into  our  car,  which  at  once  pro- 
ceeded on  its  journey.  The  language  the  poor  old 
fellow  used!  We  must  have  gone  nearly  a  thousand 
miles  before  he  was  induced  to  take  a  reasonable  view 
of  the  situation.  But  I  think  the  pecuniary  compens- 
ation we  paid  was  ample,  and  I  trust  Mrs.  Nigger  was 
not  very  anxious.  We  overtook  the  mail." 

Once, during  a  South  African  tour,  he  had  to  get  the 
help  of  a  party  of  coolies  to  carry  his  grand  piano  from 
the  station,  and  allowed  them  to  listen  to  the  concert 
from  the  wings.  Coming  off  the  platform  and  wiping 
his  brow,  he  observed  to  one  of  the  coolies:  "It's  hard 
work  playing."  "Oh,  is  it?"  was  the  reply;  "you 
should  try  lifting." 

But  perhaps  his  most  exciting  experience  was  at 
Warsaw  in  1908,  when  he  was  compelled  to  play  to  a 
powerful  section  of  the  revolutionary  party  in  what 
seemed  to  be  an  underground  meeting-place.  To  find 
himself  recalled  twenty-six  times  and  obliged  to  play 
six  encore  pieces  the  next  evening  at  the  Warsaw 
Philharmonic  Society's  concert,  where  revolutionists 
turned  out  in  full  force,  was  a  magnificent  reward. 
Less  eminent  pianists  might  not  find  the  ordeal  of 
soothing  the  savage  revolutionary  breast  quite  so  sat- 
isfactory; but  doubtless  Warsaw,  like  other  places, 

could  do  without  some  of  its  pianists.  Even  a  revol- 
81  F 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

utionist  may  have  his  legitimate  uses,  and  this  incident 
suggests  one  of  them. 

Mr.  Hambourg's  brothers,  Jan  and  Boris,  are  well 
known,  the  one  as  violinist,  the  other  as  'cellist.  They 
are  now  both  with  their  father  at  his  Conservatoire  in 
Toronto.  The  father  could  not  stand  the  English  clim- 
ate, and  Mark,  after  a  recent  tour,  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  Canada  is  the  land  of  opportunity. 


CHAPTER   THIRTEEN         SILOTI 

ALEXANDER  SILOTI  IS  DESCRIBED  IN  A 
leading  musical  dictionary  as  "  an  imposing  pianist " 
who  is  "  considered  one  of  Liszt's  most  remarkable 
pupils."  Liszt  had  a  good  many  remarkable  pupils 
who  are  also  imposing  pianists,  but  Siloti  is  probably 
the  only  one  who  has  recorded  in  book-form  his  ex- 
periences with  the  master.  My  Memories  of  Liszt 
contains,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  nearly  as  much  about 
Siloti  as  about  Liszt,  but  it  is  none  the  less  interesting 
on  that  account. 

This  "  imposing  pianist "  was  born  in  South  Russia 
in  1863.  He  became  a  pupil  of  Nicolas  Rubinstein 
and  Tschai'kowsky  at  the  Moscow  Conservatoire,  and 
Rubinstein  left  him  there  when,  in  1880,  he  went  to 
Paris,  to  die  shortly  after.  Siloti  tells  that  at  their  last 
interview  Rubinstein  called  for  wine,  and,  clinking 
glasses,  gave  this  parting  advice :  "Love  women  and 
wine,  but,  above  all,  be  a  gentleman." 

Passing  his  final  examination  at  the  Conservatoire, 
and  carrying  off  the  gold  medal,  Siloti  was  advised  to 
take  some  lessons  from  Anton  Rubinstein.  But  Anton 
had  neither  patience  nor  skill  as  a  teacher,  and  Siloti 
says  the  lessons  were  a  "nightmare."  When  arrang- 
ing for  the  first  lesson,  six  weeks  ahead,  Anton  told 
Siloti  to  prepare  for  it  four  works  which  he  knew  Siloti 
had  not  played  before — Schumann's  "  Kreisleriana," 
Beethoven's  Concerto  in  E  flat,  and  the  Sonata  in  A, 
opus  101,  and  Chopin's  Sonata  in  B  minor.  Aformid- 
83 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

able  array  of  pieces  to  be  got  up  in  six  weeks,  truly! 
Siloti  admits  that  Anton  Rubinstein's  virtuosity  was 
stupendous,  but  he  has  nothing  pleasant  to  record  of 
him,  except  that  it  was  by  his  advice  that  he  went  to 
study  with  Liszt. 

Now  Siloti  had  no  means  of  his  own  to  go  abroad 
for  this  purpose,  but  the  directors  of  the  Moscow  sect- 
ion of  the  Imperial  Russian  Musical  Society  decided 
to  send  him  to  Liszt  at  their  own  expense.  Nay,  in- 
credible as  it  may  seem,  they  even  guaranteed  .£1000 
to  meet  the  possible  contingency  of  Siloti  losing 
heavily  at  cards! 

Siloti  arrived  at  Weimar,  knowing  not  a  single  word 
of  German.  His  first  lesson  with  Liszt  had  been  fixed, 
and  he  took  with  him  Chopin's  Ballade  in  A  flat.  He 
found  about  twenty-five  pupils  present.  He  sat  down 
and  started  the  Ballade,  but  had  only  played  two  bars 
when  Liszt  stopped  him,  saying:  "No,  don't  take  a 
sitz-bath  on  the  first  note."  Liszt  then  showed  what 
an  accent  the  player  had  made  on  the  E  flat.  Siloti 
continued  playing,  but  Liszt  stopped  him  several  times, 
and  played  certain  passages  to  him.  "When  I  got  up 
from  the  piano,  I  felt  bewitched,"  says  Siloti.  All  at 
once,  he  had  become  a  "Weimarite." 

Siloti  tries  hard  to  express  in  words  the  fascinating 
personality  of  Liszt,  and  to  describe  the  features  of 
these  lessons.  "There  were  thirty  or  forty  of  us  young 
fellows,"  he  says,  "and  I  remember  that,  gay  and  irre- 

84 


SILOTI 

sponsible  as  we  were,  we  looked  small  and  feeble  be- 
side this  old  man.  He  was  literally  like  a  sun  in  our 
midst.  When  we  were  with  him,  we  felt  the  rest  of 
the  world  to  be  in  shadow,  and  when  we  left  his  pres- 
ence our  hearts  were  so  filled  with  gladness  that  our 
faces  were,  all  unconsciously,  wreathed  in  rapturous 
smiles." 

The  lessons  took  place  three  times  a  week,  from  four 
to  six  o'clock.  And  the  striking  thing  was  that  any- 
body whom  Liszt  approved  could  come  and  have  a 
"lesson,"  without  paying  a  farthing.  Liszt  remember- 
ed his  own  early  struggles,  and  being  now  rich  and 
famous,  it  delighted  him  to  give  lessons  to  talented 
pupils  without  fee  or  reward.  Not  only  that,  but,  as 
Siloti  tells,  he  would  take  his  pupils  to  the  opera  and 
pay  for  all  seats  and  refreshments. 

It  was  from  1883  to  1886  that  Siloti  studied  with 
Liszt.  But  he  had  made  his  dtbut  in  Moscow  in  1880, 
and  just  before  going  to  Weimar  had  won  laurels  at 
Leipzig.  In  1887  he  became  a  professor  at  the  Mos- 
cow Conservatoire,  but  he  has  lived  in  Paris  since  1890. 
Like  all  the  other  virtuosi,  he  has  toured  extensively 
in  Europe  and  has  visited  America.  He  has  not  cre- 
ated a  furore,  but  he  is  renowned  for  the  brilliancy  of 

his  playing,  especially  in  Liszt  pieces,  and  as  an 
interpreter  of  Russian  piano  music. 


XIV.          D'ALBERT   &   CARRE&O 

EUGENE  D'ALBERT  HAS  OFTEN  BEEN 
taken  to  task  for  posing  as  a  German  and  objecting  to 
being  described  as  a  Scot,  or  at  least  a  Britisher.  In 
truth,  his  nationality  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  decide; 
for  although  he  was  born  in  Glasgow,  his  father  (well 
known  as  a  composer  of  dance  music)  was  the  son  of 
a  captain  in  the  French  army  and  a  German  mother 
(who  was  of  Russian  descent),  and  his  mother  was  a 
native  ofNewcastle-on-Tyne.  Although  bornaBritish 
subject  and  brought  up  in  these  isles,  he  can  hardly 
be  called  a  Scotsman. 

A  good  story  is  told  in  this  connection.  At  the  re- 
hearsalsof  the  London  Philharmonic  Society,  D'Albert 
used  to  address  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie,  then  the 
conductor,  in  German!  The  joke  lay  in  the  fact  that 
both  pianist  and  conductor  had  been  brought  up  in 
Scotland.  A  somewhat  similar  incident  once  happen- 
ed when  M.  Johannes  Wolff  (a  Dutchman  who  speaks 
English  perfectly)  and  a  London  musician  were  con- 
versing in  French. 

D'Albert,  of  course,  had  his  first  lessons  from  his 
father.  Then,  at  twelve,  he  was  elected  Newcastle 
scholar  in  the  since  defunct  National  Training  School 
of  Music,  London.  Five  years  later  he  won  the  Men- 
delssohn Scholarship.  Hans  Richter,  friend  and  will- 
ing helper  of  so  many,  recognised  his  talents  and  in- 
troduced him  to  Liszt.  D'Albert  told  an  American 

interviewer  that  Liszt  made  him  a  pianist  by  pressing 

86 


D'ALBERT    &P    CARRENO 

him  to  play.  Heprefers  composing.  He  never  practises 
except  when  he  has  to  play.    This  merely  in  passing. 

It  is  a  fact  that  under  Liszt's  guidance  D'Albert  de- 
veloped with  astonishing  rapidity,  and  when  he  made 
his  first  appearances  in  Vienna  and  Berlin  he  created 
a  sensation.  He  was  found  to  have  a  marvellous  tech- 
nique, and  the  intellectual  maturity  of  his  interpre- 
tations was  generally  remarked.  He  has  long  been 
recognised  in  Germany  as  a  specially  endowed  inter- 
preter of  Beethoven,  and  it  is  significant  to  say  that  he 
has  rivalled  the  pianistic  feats  of  Von  Bulow  by  giving 
five  Beethoven  sonatas  at  one  recital.  As  has  been  in- 
dicated above,  he  fancies  himself  as  a  composer  rather 
than  as  a  pianist,  but  the  musical  world  estimates  him 
more  correctly. 

D'Albert  permanently  settled  in  Germany  many 
years  ago.  He  became  pianist  to  the  King  of  Saxony, 
and  as  a  Court  functionary  of  high  degree  he  has  the 
right  to  wear  nearly  a  dozen  decorations  on  his  breast. 
He  is  reported  a  vegetarian.  If  he  were  carnivorous 

?    In  summer  he  exchanges  his  Berlin  residence 

for  a  charming  villa  on  Lago  Maggiore.  Here,  in  this 
seclusive  and  romantic  spot,  he  passes  a  delightful  ex- 
istence, the  pleasant  hours  being  apportioned  between 
composition  and  cycling  and  lawn  tennis.  He  takes  a 
great  interest  in  all  sports  and  in  medical  science, 
though  in  regard  to  the  last-named  hobby  he  by  no 
means  aspires  to  become  a  doctor  of  music. 
87 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

An  old  Scottish  clergyman,  discoursing  once  on  the 
woman  of  Samaria,  remarked  that  she  had  "a  varied 
matrimonial  experience."  D'Albert  is  in  the  same  pos- 
ition. As  one  quaintly  says,  he  "has  ventured  upon 
matrimony  several  times."  He  was  first  married  when 
quite  young,  and  it  is  seriously  averred  that  when  he 
went  to  report  the  birth  of  his  first  child  to  the  official 
in  the  German  town  in  which  he  was  then  living,  that 
functionary  glanced  disdainfully  at  him  and  remarked 
that  it  was  necessary  for  the  father  to  make  the  report 
in  person! 

In  1 892  D'Albert  married  the  famous  pianist  Teresa 
Carreno,  but  the  union  lasted  only  three  years.  In 
Eastern  literature  there  is  mention  made  of  a  poor 
Indian  who  presented  himself  for  admittance  at  the 
door  of  Brahma's  paradise.  "Have  you  been  in  pur- 
gatory?" asked  the  deity.  "No,"  replied  the  appli- 
cant, "but  I  have  been  married."  "It  is  all  the  same; 
you  may  come  in,"  said  Brahma.  If  all  be  true  that  is 
stated,  both  D'Albert  and  Carreno  deserve  a  place  in 
the  very  holy  of  holies. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  Teresa  married  Sauret,  the 
violinist.  The  pair  went  to  America,but  the  New  World 
was  not  ripe  for  them,  and  Sauret  returned  to  Europe, 
leaving  his  wife  to  battle  with  a  baby  and  an  empty 
purse.  The  marriage  with  Tagliapietra(what  a  name!), 
the  Italian  baritone,  came  later.  It  turned  out  happily 
— for  a  year  or  two — and  three  children  were  the  re- 


Pketograpk  by  tuition  Sttrtottfpic  Ce*tf«xv.  Ltd. 
ROSBNTHAL 


D'ALBERT    ftP    CARREtfO 

suit.  By  and  bye  the  husband  "developed  habits  which 
a  wife  could  not  be  expected  to  tolerate"  (such  is  the 
euphemism),  and  there  was  a  "technical  desertion." 

Next  came  the  D'Albert  episode.  Carreno  admired 
D'Albert  very  much,  and  he  was  very  much  in  love 
with  her.  As  things  worked  out,  probably  it  was  a  case 
of  two  of  a  trade,  no  less  than  of  another  woman;  for 
D'Albert  married  the  Dresden  opera  singer,  Miss 
Finck,  before  the  ink  on  the  decree  of  divorce  was 
fairly  dry. 

Though  the  pair  did  not  get  on  together,  domestic- 
ally, it  will  be  convenient  to  say  here  something  about 
Teresa  Carrefio,  who  recently  (1913)  had  the  fiftieth 
anniversaryof  the  beginning  of  herartistic  career  cele- 
brated by  a  dinner  in  Berlin.  She  is  now  sixty  years 
old,  having  been  born  in  1853,  at  Caracas,  Venezuela, 
where  her  father  was  a  Minister  of  Finance.  She  was 
so  much  of  a  musical  prodigy  that  at  the  age  of  nine 
she  appeared  at  a  benefit  concert  in  New  York.  Soon 
after,  she  started  her  regular  career  as  a  concert  pian- 
ist, and  made  no  little  sensation  in  the  States.  When 
only  twelve  she  went  to  Anton  Rubinstein,  from  whom 
she  learnt  the  art  of  piano  necromancy. 

She  met  Joachim,  and  frequently  played  with  him. 
Richter,  too,  she  met — first  in  a  rather  curious  way. 
She  and  Tagliapietra  were  travelling  from  Paris  to 
London,  and  when  they  got  into  the  train  on  the  Eng- 
lish side  of  the  Channel,  they  found  a  large,  blonde, 
89 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

bearded  gentleman  the  only  other  occupant  of  the 
compartment.  Presently  Carrefto  seated  herself  op- 
posite him  in  order  to  get  a  view  of  the  scenery  on  that 
side  of  the  train. 

She  talked  in  French  and  Spanish  with  her  hus- 
band, little  supposing  that  the  bearded  gentleman 
would  understand.  Among  other  things,  she  remarked: 
"This  gentleman  opposite  will  think  I  have  come  here 
because  I  am  in  love  with  him,  but  I  am  not:  I  merely 
desire  to  view  the  scenery."  When  the  train  arrived 
in  London,  there  was  a  big  crowd  waiting  to  meet 
Richter,  and  not  until  then  did  Carrefto  realise  that 
she  had  been  travelling  with  the  celebrated  orchestral 
conductor  under  whose  baton  she  was  so  desirous  of 
playing. 

Among  lady  pianists  Mme.  Carrefto  is  unique.  Von 
Biilow,  himself  a  great  pianist,  declared  that  she  was 
the  only  woman  he  had  ever  heard  play  Beethoven  in 
a  satisfactory  manner.  She  is  described  as  "a  woman 
of  delightful  disposition;  affectionate  as  a  mother,  and 
mindful  of  the  welfare  of  her  children."  She  is  also 
said  to  be  an  advocate  of  "women's  rights,"  whatever 
these  may  be.  One  of  her  daughters,  for  whom  she 

wrote  the  celebrated  "Mia  Teresita,"  is  also  to 
become  a  virtuoso. 


90 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN  BUSONI 

FERUCCIO  BUSONI  IS  A  REMARKABLE  MAN 
in  many  ways.  A  brother  artist  remembers  him  well 
thirteen  years  ago  in  Berlin,  when  he  used  to  play  bil- 
liards at  the  Cafe"  Austria,  and  fill  out  the  pauses  be- 
tween shots  with  deeply  impressive  discourse  on  art 
and  aesthetics.  Even  at  that  time  he  was  "recognised 
by  the  piano  sharps  as  an  interpreter  of  unquestioned 
authority,  and  his  readings  of  the  concertos  usually 
settled  for  us  all  controversies  that  arose  after  the  per- 
formances of  the  other  well-known  keyboard  kings." 

The  same  writer  goes  on  to  give  instances  of  Bu- 
soni's  sincerity,  where  his  artistic  convictions  were 
concerned.  Instead  of  putting  in  his  programmes  the 
"sure  winners,"  hewouldselect  quiteunknown  things, 
if  he  believed  them  to  be  intrinsically  good.  Thus  in 
Berlin,  about  this  time,  he  decided  that  he  would  give 
a  series  of  orchestral  concerts  at  which  he  would  con- 
duct exclusively  such  compositions  of  livingmusicians 
as  had  not  previously  been  heard  in  public.  Musical 
Berlin  shook  its  wise  head.  "  Nobody  will  pay  to  hear 
such  concerts,"  was  the  concensus  of  opinion.  "He 
does  not  expect  the  concerts  to  pay,"  said  one  of  Bu- 
soni's  friends.  "Who  will  make  up  the  deficit,  then?" 
"He  will."  And  Busoni  did. 

Some  few  years  later,  Busoni  settled  for  the  sum- 
mer inWeimar,  and,  after  the  manner  of  Liszt,  gathered 
abouthim  a  class  of  student  disciples.  "Has  he  enough 
pupils  to  make  the  scheme  pay?"  some  sceptic  wished 
91 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

to  know.    A  Philharmonic  flautist  made  answer:  "He 
doesn't  take  any  money;  the  instruction  is  gratis." 

The  scoffers  got  their  final  quietus  when  Busoni 
gave  his  monumental  series  of  orchestral  concerts  in 
Berlin.  At  these  he  played  all  the  important  concertos 
in  the  piano  repertoire,  and  then  followed  with  recitals 
devoted  singly  and  separately  to  Liszt,  to  Chopin,  and 
to  any  other  programmatic  scheme  he  felt  himself  cal- 
led upon  to  illustrate,  irrespective  of  its  box-office 
aspect,  or  its  conformity  to  prevalent  public  or  pian- 
istic  notions  regarding  the  complexion  of  recital  pro- 
grammes. The  same  tendency  to  follow  his  own  inclin- 
ations has  distinguished  Busoni's  career  ever  since. 
His  programmes  often  have  a  thoroughly  unfamiliar 
look;  and  he  will  play  things,  such  as  the  sadly-neglec- 
ted Weber  "Concertstuck,"  which  are  voted  faded  and 
hopelessly  passt  by  all  the  other  virtuosi  of  repute. 
Busoni  is  an  Italian,  born  at  Empoli,near  Florence,  in 
1866.  Both  his  parents  were  musical,  and  he  had  his 
first  lessons  from  them,  with  such  success  that  he  ap- 
peared in  concert  when  only  seven.  At  eight  he  began 
to  com  pose,  and  at  ten  he  made  a  mild  sensation  in  Vi- 
enna as  a  performer.  Three  years'studyatLeipzigcom- 
pleted  his  professional  training;  andin  i888heaccepted 
an  appointment  as  teacher  of  piano  at  the  Helsingfors 
Conservatoire.  From  this  he  went  to  teach  at  the  Mos- 
cow Conservatoire,  and  later  at  the  New  England  Con- 
servatoire in  Boston.  What  nomads  these  artists  are ! 

92 


BUSONI 

In  1892  he  was  engaged  by  the  great  piano-making 
firmof  Steinway  to  give  a  series  of  forty  concerts  in  the 
United  States  and  Canada.  That  was  the  year  of  Pad- 
erewski's  first  tour  in  America,  and  the  furore  he 
caused  rather  told  against  Busoni.  Whether  or  not 
Busoni  felt  chagrined, cannot  be  said;  butwhen  he  had 
filled  his  Steinway  contract,  he  returned  to  Europe  to 
settle  in  Berlin.  He  has  since  made  many  tours,  and 
he  enjoys  a  world-wide  reputation  as  a  virtuoso  of  the 
first  rank. 

Busoni  has  some  pet  aversions,  and  one  of  them  is 
an  aversion  to  being  interviewed.  Naturally  retiring 
and  intensely  severe,  he  looks  upon  the  cheap  public- 
ity which  some  artists  think  necessary  for  success  as 
banal.  When  he  first  visited  America,  he  was  spec- 
ially irritated  at  the  aggressiveness  of  the  reporters. 
In  one  city  he  and  his  manager  were  amazed  upon 
opening  the  door  of  the  room  in  the  hotel  to  find  a  little 
woman  forcing  her  way  in  with  note-book  and  pencil 
in  hand.  Busoni  was  in  his  pyjamas,  and  as  soon  as 
he  learned  what  was  wanted,  he  fled  to  his  private 
room.  Afterwards  he  confided  to  a  friend  that  he  be- 
lieved "that  woman  would  have  had  nerve  enough  to 
interview  the  Apollo  Belvidere  if  her  editor  sent  her 
to  do  it." 

At  the  moment  of  writing,  Busoni  has  just  accepted 
the  directorship  of  the  Benedetto  Marcello  Conserva- 
toire at  Bologna. 
93 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN  BACKHAUS 
WILHELM  BACKHAUS  IS  THE  YOUNGEST 
of  the  distinguished  virtuosi  of  the  piano.  Yet  there 
is  in  him  a  kind  of  perception  and  maturity  which  do 
not  come  with  years.  When  but  a  youth,  he  outdist- 
anced many  of  the  older  virtuosi  in  the  matter  of  tech- 
nique, and  it  was  natural  that  the  musical  world  should 
inquire  who  this  young  giant  was.  The  first  thing 
they  discovered  was  that  he  was  not  a  pupil  of  Liszt, 
Rubinstein,  Leschetitzky,  or  any  other  world-famous 
teacher,with  the  exception  of  D'  Albert,  who  taught  him 
for  just  a  twelve-month. 

Backhaus  was  born  in  Leipzig  in  March  1884,  the 
fifty-seventh  anniversary  of  Beethoven's  death,  and 
two  years  before  the  death  of  Liszt.  Consequently  he 
belongs  to  a  new  era  of  virtuosodom.  When  only  four 
he  began  to  pick  out  tunes  on  the  piano,  and  at  ten 
started  serious  study  at  the  Leipzig  Conservatoire. 
Although  he  had  several  times  played  in  public  since 
he  was  eight,  it  was  in  1900  that  he  made  what  he  re- 
garded as  his  real  professional  cttbut  as  a  pianist.  At 
that  time,  as  we  read,  he  had  already  mastered  and 
memorised  some  300  compositions,  including  a  dozen 
concertos.  In  1901  he  made  his  first  London  appear- 
ance, and  next  year  took  Siloti's  place  at  two  days' 
notice  at  one  of  the  Hall6  concerts  in  Manchester. 
Three  years  later  he  returned  to  Manchester  to  take 
up  the  appointment  he  still  holds  as  principal  profess- 
or of  the  piano  at  the  Royal  College  of  Music. 

94 


BACKHAUS 

By  temperament  and  intellectual  equipment  Back- 
haus  rightly  belongs  to  the  classical  school  of  pianists. 
His  playing,  says  one,  may  be  characterised  in  the 
phrase  which  Herbert  Pocket  applied  to  Mr.  Wopsle's 
conception  of  the  part  of  Hamlet  as  "massive  and 
concrete."  He  always  gives  the  impression  of  having 
drawn  his  inspiration  from  a  land  of  giants. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  not  long  ago  when 
Mr.  Backhaus,  after  playing  at  the  Royal  Albert  Hall, 
London,  was  leaving  to  catch  the  night  boat  for  the 
Continent,  in  order  to  play  at  the  Cologne  Festival  the 
next  day.  As  ten  thousand  triumphant  suffragettes 
were  passing  in  procession,  his  carriage  was  held  up 
so  long  that  he  had  to  abandon  it,  and,  of  course,  his 
luggage.  With  the  help  of  a  policeman  he  succeeded 
in  elbowing  his  way  through  the  crowd,  crossing  the 
stream  of  militant  ladies,  and  landing  safely  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road.  A  dash  for  a  cab,  a  race  to  the 
station,  and  a  leap  into  the  train  were  the  work  of  a  few 
minutes.  Next  morning,  at  eleven  o'clock,  Backhaus 
arrived  at  Cologne  without  even  a  toothbrush,  the  con- 
cert being  fixed  for  twelve  o'clock.  As  evening-dress  is 
the  custom  in  Germany,  even  for  morning  concerts,  an 
enthusiastic  gentleman  of  the  committee,  who  would, 
forthe  sakeof  musical  art,  even  undress  himself  should 
that  be  required,  volunteered  to  do  so.  Backhaus  swift- 
ly slipped  into  the  kindly  offered  trousers,  dress-shirt, 
waist-coat,  &c.  Further  difficulties  now  arose.  Back- 
95 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

haus  not  having  the  essentially  German  figure  of  this 
venerable  member  of  the  committee,  the  dress-coat 
would  fit  nowhere;  so  Conductor  Steinbach  had  the 
happy  idea  to  request  the  members  of  the  Gurzenich 
Orchestra  to  file  past  the  pianist,  who  tried  their  coats 
in  turn,  and,  as  is  usual  in  such  situations,  it  was  the 
last  one  that  fitted  fairly  well. 


XVII.  SOME  OTHER  PIANISTS 
IT  IS  ALWAYS  INVIDIOUS  DRAWING  A 
line.  If  I  include  certain  players  under  this  heading,  it 
is  not  necessarily  because  I  think  them  lesser  artists 
than  those  who  have  a  section  to  themselves,  but  be- 
cause they  bulk  less  in  the  public  eye,  so  to  speak,  and 
because  comparatively  little  information  is  available 
about  them.  Let  us  take  them  indiscriminately,  with- 
out any  pretended  order  of  merit. 

There  is  Frederic  Lamond,  who  has  long  resided 
in  Germany,  and  conducts  his  affairs  from  Frankfort 
because  he  finds  it  central  for  his  travelling.  Like 
D' Albert,  he  was  born  in  Glasgow,but  w«like  D'Albert, 
he  objects  to  being  called  a  German  pianist.  He  re- 
mains "an  honest  and  blameless  Glasgow  chiel." 

Mr.  Lamond,  who  is  now  forty-five,  began  his  music- 
al education  with  his  brother,  and  at  the  early  age  of 
eleven  became  organist  of  a  church  in  his  native  city. 
During  this  time  he  devoted  his  attention  not  only  to 
harmony,  piano,  and  organ,  but  also  to  violin,  oboe,  and 
clarinet.  Such  experience  must  have  proved  of  great 
value  to  him  in  the  composition  of  orchestral  works, 
of  which  he  has  written  several. 

But  it  is  as  a  pianist  that  he  has  achieved  European 
reputation.  When  fourteen  he  went  to  Germany,  and 
studied  first  at  Frankfort.  There  he  made  the  acquain- 
tance of  Von  Billow,  whose  interest  he  aroused  to  a 
very  unusual  degree.  Under  Blilow's  special  direction 
97  G 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

he  subsequently  prosecuted  his  studies  in  Berlin  and 
Meiningen,  and  it  was  at  Billow's  express  wish  that 
Liszt  subsequently  undertook  the  further  development 
of  the  rising  young  pianist  in  1885. 

Not  only  did  Mr.  Lamond  enjoy  the  tuition  of  Liszt 
at  Weimar,  but  he  had  the  privilege  of  accompanying 
him  to  Rome,  and  he  only  left  the  Abbess  side  when 
he  (Liszt)  made  his  last  journey  to  London.  Like  the 
other  virtuosi,  he  has  toured  everywhere.  He  has  ex- 
traordinary gifts  as  a  pianist,  and  while  his  classical 
style  is,  in  the  nature  of  things,  tinged  with  the  trad- 
itions of  the  best  German  school,  he  displays  an  ind- 
ividuality and  independencewhich  entitle  him  to  stand 
alone.  His  individuality  shows  itself  in  more  than  his 
playing,  too.  At  Danzig  not  long  ago  he  refused  to 
proceed  with  his  recital  if  Herr  Fuchs,  music  critic  of 
the  local  paper,  remained  in  the  hall.  This  was  because 
of  a  criticism  on  Mr.  Lamond  written  by  Fuchs  nine 
years  before.  To  avoid  a  scene,  Fuchs  left  the  hall. 

Then  there  is  Arthur  de  Greef,  probably  the  finest 
of  Belgium-born  pianists.  He  is  a  splendid  artist,  and 
as  such  avoids  anything  approaching  exaggeration. 
In  Mozart,  for  instance,  he  gives  out  the  music  with 
perfect  simplicity  and  perfect  lucidity,  and  consequent- 
ly it  speaks  for  itself.  The  beauty  of  his  phrasing  and 
the  extreme  delicacy  of  his  touch  are  unchallengable 
in  the  impression  they  make.  He  has  no  poses  and 

93 


SOME    OTHER    PIANISTS 

no  tricks,  and,  contrary  to  all  virtuosic  custom  now- 
adays, he  often  has  the  music  before  him  on  the  piano, 
to  be  sure  of  absolute  accuracy. 

Leopold  Godowsky,  as  we  have  seen,  is  numbered 
second  among  the  great  living  pianists  by  Pachmann. 
But  he  is  not  quite  so  well  known  in  England  as  else- 
where. Born  in  Russian  Poland  in  1870,  he  was  ex- 
ploited as  a  "wunderkind/'and  travelled  all  over  Rus- 
sia and  parts  of  Germany,  with  immense  success,  until 
he  was  twelve.  Then  a  wealthy  German  banker  took 
a  fancy  to  him  and  arranged  for  his  future  training. 
Accordingly,  he  entered  the  Hochschule  at  Berlin, 
under  Joachim,  and  remained  there  for  two  years. 

An  American  tour  in  conjunction  with  Ovid  Musin, 
the  violinist,  followed.  But  Godowsky  wanted  to  re- 
turn to  Europe  for  further  study,  and  he  struck  for 
Paris,  mainly  because  Saint-Saens  was  there.  Saint- 
Saens  took  a  great  interest  in  him,  and  introduced  him 
to  all  the  musical  big-wigs.  From  the  salons  of  Paris 
to  those  of  London  was  but  a  step,  and  soon  Godowsky 
had  captured  London.  He  played  in  the  palaces  of 
the  Dukes  of  Westminster  and  Norfolk,  and  at  Marl- 
borough  House — in  the  latter  case  notably  during 
Queen  Victoria's  golden  jubileein  1887,  when  nofewer 
than  thirty  crowned  heads  were  present. 

When  he  was  twenty,  Godowsky  went  back  to  Amer- 
ica, and  next  year  he  married  Miss  Frederica  Saxe,  a 
99 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

New  York  lady.  He  remained  in  New  York  till  1895, 
and  then  accepted  a  position  in  the  Chicago  Conser- 
vatoire as  head  of  the  piano  department.  In  1909  the 
press  made  the  announcement  that  the  Austrian  Gov- 
ernment had  persuaded  him  to  become  Director  of  the 
Piano  School  attached  to  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music 
at  Vienna.  Here,  by  his  agreement,  he  teaches  for  200 
hours  a  year.  He  is  never  to  have  more  than  fifteen 
pupils.  If  he  likes,  he  can  teach  them  at  his  country 
house.  He  is  to  have  a  pension,  and  he  was  credited 
with  ten  years'  service  before  he  began  in  1909.  His 
pay  works  out  at  £4,  $s.  an  hour. 

Godowsky's  bookingsfor  some  years  have  averaged 
from  80  to  100  important  engagements  annually,  and 
in  filling  these  he  crosses  and  re-crosses  Europe  time 
and  again,  arousing  wherever  he  appears  always  the 
same  spontaneous  enthusiasm.  Indeed,  his  managers 
find  it  an  ingenious  task  to  arrange  his  season's  itin- 
erary, since  it  is  nothing  unusual  for  him  to  appear 
within  the  same  week  in  Austria,  Germany,  England, 
and  France. 

Again,  there  is  Mr.  Harold  Bauer,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  personalities  in  the  musical  world  of  to- 
day. In  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  his  training 
has  been  singularly  paradoxical,  since  it  has  differed 
radically  from  the  paths  which  most  of  the  celebrated 

pianists  have  trod. 

100 


SOME    OTHER    PIANISTS 

Mr.  Bauer  was  born  in  London  in  1 873.  His  father 
was  a  good  amateur  violinist,  and  so  the  boy  took  to 
the  violin.  He  made  his  cUbut  with  this  instrument,  in 
London,  when  only  ten,  and  thereafter  made  several 
tours  of  England,  with  flattering  success.  Presently, 
in  London,  he  met  a  musician  named  Graham  Moore, 
who  gave  him  some  ideas  of  the  technique  of  piano- 
playing,  which  Bauer  had  picked  up  by  himself  with- 
out any  thought  of  ever  abandoning  his  career  as  a 
violinist.  Moore  had  been  engaged  to  rehearse  some 
orchestral  accompaniments  on  a  second  piano  with 
Paderewski,  who  was  then  preparing  certain  concertos 
for  public  performance;  but  Moore  was  taken  ill  and 
sent  Bauer  in  his  place. 

Paderewski  immediately  interested  himself  in 
Moore's  talented  young  friend,  and  having  learnt  of 
his  ambition  to  shine  on  the  violin  advised  him  to  go  to 
Paris  to  study  with  Gorski.  Subsequently  Bauer  often 
met  Paderewski  and  received  advice  and  hints,  but  no 
regular  instruction.  In  Paris  he  had  no  chance  what- 
ever to  play  and  the  first  year  and  a  half  was  a  period 
of  privation  which  he  will  never  forget.  Then  a  chance 
came  to  play,  in  Russia  as  accompanist  for  a  singer 
touring  there.  The  tour  was  a  long  one,  and  in  some  of 
the  smaller  towns  Bauer  played  an  occasional  piano 
solo. 

Returning  to  Paris  with  his  meagre  savings,  he 

found  that  his  position  was  little,  if  any,  better  than  be- 
101 


1* 


MODERN   MUSICIANS 

fore  his  trip.  Still,  no  opportunities  to  play  the  violin 
were  forthcoming.  Then  the  pianist  (Stojowski)  who 
was  to  play  at  a  certain  concert  was  taken  ill,  and 
Bauer  was  asked  to  substitute.  His  success  was  not 
great,  but  it  was  at  least  a  start.  As  other  requests  for 
his  services  as  a  pianist  followed,  he  gradually  gave 
moreand  more  attention  to  theinstrument,andthrough 
great  concentration  and  the  most  careful  mental  ana- 
lysis of  the  playing  of  other  virtuosi,  as  well  as  a  deep 
consideration  of  the  musical  aesthetical  problems  un- 
derlying the  best  in  the  art  of  piano  interpretation,  he 
has  risen  to  a  high  place  in  the  piano  world. 

Raoul  Pugno  is  less  known  as  an  independent  pian- 
ist than  by  his  association  with  Ysaye,  the  violinist. 
Pugno  (a  Parisian)  and  Ysaye  were  early  friends  and 
in  their  youth  played  together  a  good  deal ;  but,  as 
Ysaye  puts  it,"life  itselt,concert  trips, marriage, child- 
ren, &c.,  had  separated  us  quite  a  little,  until  the  time 
when  the  idea  came  to  us  to  get  together  regularly  for 
'sonata  evenings.'"  Both  Pugno  and  Ysaye  have  pub- 
licly and  privately  the  same  course  of  life.  "After  the 
great  triumphs  and  joys  of  art  comes  the  rest  in  the 
family  circle  with  wife  and  children, "says  Ysaye.  "And 
when  again  we  step  before  the  public  we  bring  some  of 
this  rest  and  healthfulness  with  our  art,  strengthened 
and  ennobled  through  our  friendship.  Only  in  play- 
ing with  Pugno,"  he  continues,  "can  I  realise  all  my 

IO2 


SOME    OTHER    PIANISTS 

thoughts.  In  a  sort  of  tacit  accord,  and  through  mutual 
entering  into  the  slightest  variation  of  feeling,  we 
make,  I  believe,  the  public  understand  the  musical 
unity  of  the  works  which  speak  to  the  hearer  in  such 
different  voices." 

Pugno  had  an  Italian  father  and  a  mother  from  Lor- 
raine. His  mother  had  no  interest  in  music,  but  his 
father  was  an  enthusiast.  He  gave  his  first  concert  in 
Paris  when  only  six.  Later  he  was  a  student  at  the 
Conservatoire :  composition  under  "  M  ignon  "  Thomas, 
and  piano  under  Georges  Mathias,  a  pupil  of  Chopin. 
Curiously  enough  he  acquired  a  reputation  as  an  or- 
ganist before  he  was  well  known  as  a  pianist.  "I  am 
very  fond  of  the  organ  and  could  go  back  to  it  with  cred- 
it to  myself,"  he  says.  He  has  been  once  in  America 
(with  Ysaye),  but  America  will  not  see  him  again.  "I 
have  never  had  the  fever  that  so  many  artists  have  to 
acquire  wealth  at  any  cost;  my  health  comes  first." 

Pugno  has  a  house  in  Paris,  but  he  prefers  to  escape 
to  his  beautiful  little  estate  near  Nantes,  one  hour  from 
the  capital.  In  appearance,  it  has  been  observed,  he 
might  be  anything  but  a  musician — say  a  physician  or 
a  philosopher.  He  is  a  big  man,  with  hair  and  beard  al- 
most white.  His  eyes  are  small  and  dark,andhis  hands 
fat  and  chubby.  "  My  hands  do  not  look  like  the  hands 
of  most  pianists,  but  they  are  very  supple,"  he  says. 

Basil  Sapelnikoff  is  a  pianist  of  the  first  rank  as  rc- 
103 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

gards  technique,  and  yet  not  quite  of  the  first  rank  in 
popular  favour.  He  is  a  native  of  Odessa,  and  was  born 
in  1868.  His  father  was  a  teacher  of  the  violin  there, 
and  Basil  took  up  the  violin  as  his  chief  instrument, 
giving  a  public  recital  on  it  in  his  native  city  when 
only  eleven.  Early  in  his  teens  he  had  the  good  luck  to 
attract  the  friendly  notice  of  Rubinstein,  who  strongly 
advised  him  to  give  up  the  violin  for  the  piano. 

This  advice  was  accompanied  by  substantial  aid. 
By  Rubinstein's  generous  efforts  a  yearly  stipend  was 
obtained  from  the  city  of  Odessa  to  enable  the  lad  to 
go  to  St.  Petersburg  Conservatoire.  For  two  years 
he  studied  there,  and  for  three  subsequent  years  under 
the  celebrated  Sophie  Menter.  By  the  time  he  left 
the  Conservatoire  his  fame  had  already  been  spread 
abroad;  and  since  then  he  has  played  with  distinguish- 
ed success  in  all  the  leading  cities  of  Europe. 

Rafael  Joseffy  is  best  known  in  America,  for  it  was 
thither  he  went  from  the  Continent  in  1879,  and  he 
has  been  more  or  less  associated  with  the  New  World 
ever  since.  "When  he  first  arrived,"  says  Mr.  Henry 
Lahee,  "he  was  considered  by  many  people  to  be  the 
most  brilliant  pianist  alive.  He  was  called  the  Patti  of 
the  piano,  and  his  phenomenal  technique,  exquisite 
touch,  and  still  more  exquisite  style,  lent  his  playing 
an  attraction  that  was  irresistible."  He  became  dis- 
tinguished first  as  an  interpreter  of  Chopin  and  Liszt; 

104 


SOME    OTHER    PIANISTS 

but  he  left  the  platform  for  five  years,  and  then  re- 
appeared more  brilliant  than  ever. 

Joseffy  is  a  German,  born  at  Pressburg  in  1852. 
Karl  Reinecke  directed  his  studies  at  the  LeipzigCon- 
servatoire.  Then  he  went  to  Berlin,  where  the  great 
Tausig  took  him  in  hand,  and  turned  him  out  a  front- 
rank  virtuoso.  He  toured  the  musical  countries  of 
Europe  for  some  years,  with  Vienna  for  his  head- 
quarters. Then,  as  already  stated,  he  went  to  Amer- 
ica, where  he  caused  a  sensation  rivalled  only  by 
Paderewski.  Stories  are  told  of  his  playing  during  a 
night's  social  festivities  from  thirty  to  forty  of  the  most 
difficult  works  ever  written  for  the  piano.  It  is  a  pity 
he  is  not  more  frequently  heard  in  England. 

Nor  must  we  forget  our  native  Mr.  Leonard  Ber- 
wick. Mr.  Berwick  is  now  a  man  of  forty-five,  having 
been  born  at  Walthamstow,  in  Essex,  in  1868.  He 
comes  of  an  old  Staffordshire  family,  many  members 
of  v/hich  were  musical.  AS  a  baby  playing  with  his 
toys,  he  could  name  any  note  sounded  on  the  piano. 
He  did  not  go  to  Frankfort  to  Mme.Schumann  until  he 
was  sixteen,  and  all  his  friends  said  he  was  too  late. 
After  seven  or  eight  years'  study  he  appeared  at  Vien- 
na in  1 89 1  in  Brahms'  Concerto  in  D  minor.  Brahms  was 
present,  and  pencilled  a  post-card  to  Mme.  Schumann 
telling  of  her  pupil's  success.  This  post-card  Mr.  Ber- 
wick still  has. 
105 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

He  has  been  heard  at  all  the  principal  musical  cen- 
tres in  Britain  and  on  the  Continent.  He  is  really  of 
the  school  of  Sir  Charles  Halle",  who  always  strove  to 
make  the  music  speak  for  itself,  and  not  to  obtrude  the 
personality  of  the  player.  But,  under  the  pressure  of 
modern  concert  conditions,  in  which  the  soloist  is  cal- 
led upon  to  play,  not  as  he  would  to  himself  or  to  a 
drawing-room,  but  to  a  crowd,  he  has  developed  re- 
markably since  his  first  appearance.  He  preserves  his 
lucidity  of  touch  and  phrasing,  and  his  mastery  of  the 
full  technique  of  his  instrument;  but  he  has  acquired 
not  a  little  of  the  "sturm  und  drang"  style. 

Mr.Borwick  loves  poetry  and  painting,  and  enjoys  a 
trip  to  Italy.  He  is  fond  of  tennis,  cycling,  gymnastics, 
and  conjuring;  and  is  a  firm  believer  in  a  fleshless  diet, 
on  which  he  says  he  can  do  his  best  work. 


SINGERS 


CHAPTER   EIGHTEEN        MELBA 

"IF  YOU  ARE  SERIOUS  AND  CAN  STUDY 
with  me  for  one  year,  I  will  make  you  something  re- 
markable." That  was  whatMme.Marchesi  said  to  Miss 
Helen  Porter  Mitchell,  who  had  come  from  Melbourne 
to  Paris  to  consult  about  her  voice.  For  "Melba"  is 
an  adopted  name — a  contraction  of  Melbourne,  where 
she  was  born,  and  where  her  father,  Mr.  David  Mit- 
chell, a  wealthy  retired  builder  and  contractor,  still 
lives  at  the  age  of  eighty-six.  The  Melbourne  Exhib- 
ition building,in  which  the  Prince  of  Wales  (now  King 
George  V),  on  behalf  of  King  Edward  VII,  opened  the 
first  Parliament  of  Federated  Australia,  was  one  of  his 
contracts. 

A  strict  Presbyterian  of  the  old  school  (he  and  his 
wife  were  both  Scottish  by  birth,  and  came  from  For- 
farshire),  Mr.  Mitchell  had  an  unconquerable  aversion 
to  the  theatre  and  the  opera-house,  and  he  resisted  to 
the  utmost  of  his  powers  the  aspirations  of  his  daugh- 
ter Nellie  to  win  fame  and  fortune  by  her  beautiful 
voice.  There  is  a  story  that,  by  personal  entreaties, 
he  succeeded,  by  defacing  her  posters,  in  limiting  the 
audience  at  one  of  her  early  concerts  in  Melbourne  to 
thirty  individuals!  Even  now,  when  Miss  Nellie  Mit- 
chell is  aprima  donna  of  world- wide  renown, herfather 
has  his  "doots."  It  is  said  that  he  has  never  seen  her 
in  any  one  of  her  great  operatic  rdles.  In  1902,  when 
she  went  back  to  Melbourne,  seventeen  years  had 

passed  since  he  heard  his  daughter  sing.  At  one  per- 
109 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

formance  she  sang  "Comin'  thro'  the  rye,"  looking  to- 
wards her  father,  and  both  were  visibly  affected. 

At  the  age  of  six  Nellie  Mitchell  had  already  sung 
— and  gained  an  encore,  too — at  a  school  concert;  but 
during  her  school  days,  and  later,  she  studied  chiefly 
the  piano  and  organ.  She  became  a  pupil  of  the  Mel- 
bourne Presbyterian  Ladies'  College,  and  before  she 
was  out  of  her  teens  (in  1882)  she  had  become  the  wife 
of  Mr.  C.  F.  Armstrong,  a  Queensland  sugar-planter, 
and  the  son  of  an  Irish  baronet.  The  chapter  bearing 
the  record  of  that  youthful  marriage  is  torn  from  all 
public  chronicles:  the  husband's  name  may  not  be 
mentioned  in  the  singer's  presence. 

As  Mrs.  Armstrong  she  sang  for  two  or  three  years 
in  Australia,  having  an  engagement  as  principal  so- 
prano in  a  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Then,  on  the  ad- 
vice of  the  Marchioness  of  Normandy,  she  decided  to 
take  up  the  study  of  music  seriously,  and  sailed  for 
London,  fame,  and  fortune. 

Those  who  like  to  read  of  youthful  precocity  will 
find  plenty  of  material  in  the  Melba  biography.  There 
was  nothing  of  the  prunes  and  prisms  about  Miss 
Nellie  Mitchell.  Musical  critics  are  sometimes  blamed 
for  failure  to  recognise  genius  on  its  first  appearance. 
It  will  be  some  comfort  for  them  to  learn  that  when 
Melba  came  first  to  London  after  some  successes  in 
Australia  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  did  not  think  her  good 

enough  for  the  Savoy  Opera  Company,  and  Signer 

no 


MELBA 

Alberto  Randegger  would  not  even  take  her  as  a 
pupil !  Not  long  afterwards,  however,  she  sang  to  Mar- 
chesi,  who  at  once  recognised  extraordinary  possibil- 
ities. For  Marchesi  Melba  was  "1'eleve  de  mes  reves." 
After  nine  months'  study  she  appeared  in  opera  at 
Brussels,  and  the  telegraph  carried  news  of  a  great 
triumph  all  over  Europe.  Those  who  have  seen  Melba 
only  during  recent  years  may  not  know  that  she  has 
played  Elisabeth  and  Elsa  and  even  Briinnhilde.  The 
last  part  she  studied  for  two  years,  only  to  give  it  up 
after  a  first  public  performance.  Strongly  emotional 
parts  are  not  for  a  singer  whose  voice  is  of  such  limpid 
perfection.  Melba,  like  Patti,  knows  how  to  take  care 
of  her  wonderful  gift. 

During  twenty  years  at  Covent  Garden,  she  sang 
close  upon  twenty  different  roles,  but  more  recently 
she  has  limited  the  list  of  her  parts.  She  created  the 
part  of  Nedda  in  "I  Pagliacci/'and  is  identified,  as  in- 
dicated above,  with  three  Wagnerian  characters — 
Elisabeth,  Elsa,  and  Briinnhilde.  During  these  twenty 
years  atCoventGarden  she  establisheda  record  which 
will  not  be  beaten  for  a  century  or  two,  if  ever.  No  prev- 
ious prima  donna  had  sung  in  London  for  twenty 
years  without  missing  a  single  season,  and  the  odds 
against  any  future  one  accomplishing  the  feat  must  be 
everwhelming. 

For  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  now  she  has  held 
a  pre-eminent  place,  and  her  career,  with  its  number- 
III 


MODERN   MUSICIANS 

less  tours  in  all  quarters  of  the  globe,  presents  such  an 
unbroken  series  of  triumphs  that  space  need  not  be 
wasted  in  chronicling  it.  Tributes  innumerable  have 
been  paid  to  her  bycontemporary composers  andmus- 
icians.  Gounod  found  in  Melba"the  dear  Juliet  for 
whom  I  hoped."  Delibes  wrote  of  her  "ideal  voice, 
with  its  superhuman  purity."  Massenet  christened  her 
'Mme.  Stradivarius."  Calve  wrote:  "You  sing  like  an 
angel."  Joachim  said  that"as  an  example  of  unaffected 
purity  in  vocal  art,Melba  surpasses  all  other  singers  ot 
our  time."  Once  Joachim  wrote  to  her:  "  I  felt  a  great 
blank  when  you  left  Berlin.  Let  me  not  thank  you  tor 
your  glorious  singing  at  my  house ;  but  let  me  tell  you 
that  I  think  it  a  blessing  to  realise  the  idea  of  your  ex- 
istence, and  that  you  gave  me  your  friendship!  How 
did  I  deserve  it?  But  I  will  guard  the  heavenly  gift. 
All  the  people  that  met  you  are  still  under  the  charm 
of  last  Thursday  evening.  It  is  not  the  singing  only 
that  won  their  hearts."  By  general  critical  consent, 
Melba's  voice,  after  two  decades  of  strenuous  work,  is 
as  beautiful,  matchless,  and  unimpaired  as  ever. 

Melba's  claim  to  the  title  of  reigning  queen  of  song 
was  only  challenged  when  Tetrazzini  came  on  the 
scene.  About  that  time  Punch  in  a  cartoon  depicted 
the  two  rivals  engaged  in  a  war  of  gramophone  re- 
cords, and  the  progress  of  the  subsequent  struggle  for 
supremacy  was  followed  with  keen  interest  by  lovers 

of  sport  aswell  as  music.  The  Covent  Garden  manage- 

112 


.If.  Sttitd-jjcli  Clerke' 


MELBA 


MELBA 

ment  might  confidently  reckon  on  a  ^20,000  house  if 
it  could  induce  Melba  and  Tetrazzini  to  sing  in  the 
same  opera,  for  there  would  be  a  lively  anticipation  of 
unrehearsed  incidents  and  developments. 

The  contrast  between  now  and  the  earlier  days 
must  seem  to  Melba  striking  enough.  There  is  one 
anecdote  she  dearly  likes  to  tell  in  this  connection. 
After  a  memorable  concert  at  Hull  in  1910  she  was 
asked  by  a  local  pressman  if  she  remembered  her  last 
visit  to  Hull,  many  years  ago.  "Remember  it!"  ex- 
claimed Melba.  "Can  I  ever  forget  it  ?  Even  the  care- 
taker of  the  place  was  sorry  for  me  because  I  had  so 
small  an  audience.  Hecame  to  me  afterwards  and  said, 
Very  sorry,  madam,  there's  not  more  people  here.  But 
we  didn't  know  you  were  a  singer.  We  thought  you 
were  a  violin.  If  I  had  known  you  could  sing  like  you 
do,  I'd  have  filled  the  hall  myself!'  It  struck  me  as  be- 
ing inexpressibly  funny,"  said  Mme.  Melba,  "and  it 
always  does  me  good  to  think  of  it." 

Melba  has  written  at  least  a  couple  of  essays  on  her 
art,  from  which  other  singers  may  derive  some  valu- 
able hints.  Here  we  learn  that  she  memorises  her 
parts  by  humming  them  over,  or  playing  them  on  the 
piano.  She  says  she  carries  her  middle  register  up  to 
F  sharp,  half  a  tone  beyond  the  prescribed  limit,  but 
this  is  exceptional.  She  earnestly  advises  singers  to 
find  the  natural  place  of  the  break  in  their  voices  and 
avoid  forcing.  Further,  she  recommends  students  to 
113  H 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

gain  a  reasonable  knowledge  of  the  anatomy  of  the 
throat.  Great  success  in  singing,  she  says,  is  imposs- 
ible to  the  vocalist  who  does  not  thoroughly  under- 
stand breathing,  attack,  the  use  of  the  registers,  the 
structure  and  functions  of  the  parts  above  the  voice 
box,  and  the  relation  of  chest  expansion  to  the  produc- 
tion of  tone.  A  beautiful  voice  is  only  the  basis  of  vocal 
progress.  Tone,  expression,  resonance,  phrasing  are 
all  dependent  on  respiration. 

"Don't/'she  counsels,  "hack  at  your  voice  by  using 
it  to  help  you  learn  your  parts.  Young  students  do 
more  practising  than  they  have  physical  strength  for. 
They  should  take  more  outdoor  exercise,  get  round 
cheeks  and  bright  eyes,  eat  and  sleep  regularly.  Take 
lots  of  exercise  and  save  your  voice,  and  you  will  keep 
it  fresh.  When  the  music  is  firmly  engraved  upon  the 
mind,  then  employ  the  voice.  Practise. pianissimo  in 
private,  and  the  forte  will  come  all  right  in  public." 

Melba  has  sung,  and  sung  greatly  in  many  different 
kinds  of  works,  but  perhaps,  as  one  critic  says,  her 
ultimate  fame,  like  Patti's,  will  rest  on  her  rendering 
of  the  old  florid  music  of  Verdi  and  Donizetti,  with  her 
"Caro  Nome"  for  the  outstanding  example  in  which 
her  unrivalled  technique  and  the  magical  purity  of  her 
voice  are  displayed  to  supreme  advantage. 

Her  beautiful  red  hair  surmounts  an  interesting 
face:  eyes  large, soft,  and  brown;  firm  chin, and  round, 

rather  slender  throat.    Her  favourite  recreation,  she 

114 


MELBA 

says  (but  this  was  in  1894)  is  dancing.  "And  do  I  dare 
to  go  to  balls  with  my  fortune  in  my  throat  ?  I  do,  and 
enjoy  every  minute  of  it.  And  after  that  I  like  walking 
and  driving  and  riding — anything  to  get  into  the  sun- 
shine." She  knows  just  the  foods  and  drinks  that 
agree  with  her,  and  touches  nothing  else.  "I  have  very 
little  variety  at  table.  I  eat  about  the  same  thing  every 
day  in  the  year — caft  au  lait,  toast,  mutton-chops, 
beefsteak,  greens,  fruit,  and  light  wine.  I  never  touch 
cereals,  bread,  potatoes,  pastry,  or  candy.  They  up- 
set me.  I  have  coffee  and  toast  every  morning  for  my 
breakfast.  I  eat  fruit  three  times  a  day.  I  only  eat 
broiled  meat,  and  I  take  it  with  salad.  I  never,  never 
drink  anything  cold;  and,  as  I  don't  fancy  cooked 
water,  I  live  on  coffee,  tea,  and  wine." 

Her  hobby  is  the  collecting  of  autographs.  And 
there  are  her  chains.  "I  am  known  everywhere  by  my 
chains,  because  I  always  wear  them,"  she  said  once. 
The  chains  are  long  and  jewelled.  One  is  of  gold,  with 
pearls  set  in  the  links,  and  upon  this  is  a  ball  of  gold, 
sparkling  with  diamonds,  which  shows  the  dial  of  a 
watch  at  the  under  side.  The  other  came  from  Russia, 
and  is  of  the  peculiar  Russian  workmanship,  in  silver, 
set  with  turquoise.  There  are  handsome  rings  on  the 
slender  fingers  and  a  bar  of  diamonds  at  the  neck,  from 

which  hangs  a  heart-shaped  trinket,  a  turquoise 
set  in  diamonds. 


CHAPTER   XIX.  TETRAZZINI 

THE  BEST  ACCOUNT  OF  TETRAZZINFS 
career  was  given  by  herself  when  she  was  in  Edinburgh 
in  1908.  She  was  asked  to  tell  it,  and  she  remarked  on 
the  curious  fact  that  only  in  the  English-speaking  cities 
does  the  public  appear  to  be  interested  in  the  personal 
details  of  an  artist's  life.  In  South  America,  Italy,  or 
Russia,  there  is  plenty  of  interest  in  the  artiste  as  she 
appears  on  stage  or  platform,  but  little  interest  in  her 
private  concerns.  ''No  sooner,  however,  does  a  Brit- 
isher hear  a  singer  than  he  wishes  to  know  what  she 
eats  and  wears  and  thinks  about;  whether  she  is  mar- 
ried, and  how  many  children  she  has.  It  is  most  amus- 
ing to  me."  Thus  the  lady  herself. 

Luisa  Tetrazzini  is  a  native  of  Florence,  and  comes 
of  a  family  of  professional  musicians.  She  has  a  bro- 
ther and  two  sisters  older  than  herself — the  brother 
with  a  good  tenor  voice,  one  of  the  sisters,  Eva  (retired 
from  music  after  her  marriage  to  Signer  Campanini,  a 
well-known  conductor),  the  other  sister  a  teacher  of 
music  in  Milan.  Eva  practised  at  home  when  Luisa 
was  a  little  girl,  and  Luisa  used  to  imitate  her.  Luisa 
knew  both  words  and  music  of  several  operas  before 
she  was  even  aware  of  the  fact.  She  sat  listening  to 
her  sister  by  the  hour,  following  with  the  keenest  in- 
terest the  details  of  her  rehearsals.  After  watching 
her  stab  herself  with  a  dagger  while  rehearsing  "La 
Gioconda,"  Luisa  wanted  to  do  the  scene  herself.  The 

dagger,  however,had  been  carefully  put  away,  and  she 

116 


TETRAZZINI 

was  forced  to  use  a  candle  instead.  After  singing  the 
music  of  the  last  act,  she  thrust  the  candle  against  her 
heart,  and  fell  to  the  ground,  to  the  vast  delight  of  her 
father,  her  sole  auditor. 

The  parents  were  not  anxious  to  encourage  Luisa 
in  singing.  They  had  given  the  other  two  daughters 
to  music,  and  they  wished  to  keep  the  younger  child  at 
home.  So  they  refused  to  allow  her  systematic  instruc- 
tion in  either  piano  or  singing;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact 
her  whole  formal  study  was  confined  to  three  months 
in  a  conservatoire.  But  Luisa  had  been  going  to  the 
theatre  and  hearing  Eva  sing  there,  and  she  was  anx- 
ious to  do  the  same  thing.  Between  the  ages  of  ten 
and  twelve,  curiously  enough,  her  voice  was  a  con- 
tralto, very  full  and  deep,  and  singers  told  her  family 
that  it  would  certainly  get  lower!  Mme.  Biancolini,  one 
of  the  greatest  Italian  contraltos  of  the  time,  laugh- 
ingly spoke  of  Luisa  as  her  successor.  However,  when 
she  was  twelve  her  voice  gradually  began  to  extend  up- 
wards, and  one  day  she  was  delighted  to  find  that  she 
could  take  a  note  higher  than  Eva.  This  was  F  in  alt. 

Then  the  struggle  once  more  began  with  her  par- 
ents, who  at  last  consented  to  her  taking  that  three 
months'  course  at  the  Liceo  Musicale  in  Florence.  It 
was  necessary,  of  course,  to  sing  for  the  directors  in 
order  to  gain  admission.  When  she  presented  herself, 
Signer  Cecherini,  who  had  taught  her  sister,  turned 

to  the  examiner  and  said:  "This  is  no  little  girl;  she  is 
117 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

an  artist."  At  the  end  of  a  lesson  one  day  Cecherini 
remarked  to  her:  "I  can  teach  you  nothing  more;  you 
sing  like  an  angel." 

However,  she  did  not  give  up  work.  Though  she 
left  the  Liceo,  Cecherini  came  to  her  home,  and  she 
studied  operas  with  him.  In  three  months  she  knew 
"The  Daughter  of  the  Regiment"  and  "Semiramide." 
Meyerbeer's  "L'Africaine"  was  to  be  produced  at  the 
Teatro  Nicolini  one  night.  The  manager  could  find  no 
one  to  suit  him  in  the  small  part  of  Inez;  and  calling 
at  the  Tetrazzinis'  house,  he  suddenly  turned  to  Luisa 
and  said:  "Would  you  sing  it?"  "Yes,"  she  cried 
eagerly,  "but  you  must  get  me  a  costume."  He  smiled, 
and  asked  her  how  much  money  he  thought  she  should 
have.  She  shook  her  head :  she  had  no  idea.  He  offer- 
ed her  £20  for  four  months,  and  she  accepted.  She 
made  enough  of  a  success  for  another  manager  to  en- 
gage her  at  the  end  of  the  four  months  at  a  salary  of 
£40  a  month,  though,  of  course,  her  voice  was  not 
definitely  formed  at  this  time. 

After  a  season  in  Rome,  she  went  to  South  America, 
and  made  her  star  dtbut  in  the  part  of  Violetta  in  "La 
Traviata."  This  was  the  part  in  which  she  first  ap- 
peared both  in  London  and  New  York,  and  in  which 
fame  really  came  to  her  for  the  first  time.  In  Buenos 
Ayres  she  sang  "Lucia"  fifty-four  times,  the  fiftieth 
performance  being  the  occasion  for  a.  fete.  One  season 

there  she  received  £250  per  performance,  the  highest 

118 


TETRAZZINI 

figure  paid  her  until  she  appeared  in  London.  Later 
she  sang  at  Rosario  and  Monte  Video.  She  also  ap- 
peared in  Cuba,  in  Mexico,  and  in  San  Francisco.  It 
was  at  the  Tivoli  Opera  House  in  San  Francisco  that 
she  scored  enough  of  a  triumph  to  bring  her  to  the 
notice  of  the  New  York  impresarios. 

In  Mexico  she  had  many  pleasant  experiences.  The 
theatre  at  Guadalajara  holds  over  4000.  The  crowds 
on  "Tetrazzini  nights"  were  so  great  that  an  extra 
force  of  police  was  placed  at  the  box-office.  In  several 
of  the  Mexican  cities  they  threw  purses  of  gold  over 
the  footlights.  One  night  when  she  was  singing 
"Lucia,"  she  heard  the  whirring  of  birds'  wings,  and 
as  she  looked  up  she  saw  pigeons  fluttering  down  from 
the  gallery.  The  feathers  of  one  wing  on  each  bird  had 
been  cut  so  that  the  birds  could  not  fly  but  fell  to  the 
stage  as  some  one  cried:  "Madame,  you  sing  like  the 
birds,  and  here  are  the  birds  at  your  feet." 

In  spite  of  all  these  successes  elsewhere,  Tetrazzini 
was  still  quite  unknown  in  England.  She  had  not  been 
invited  by  the  CoventGarden  authorities.  Many  people 
think  that  England  is  the  best  paymaster  for  music  in 
Europe.  England  is  not.  Tetrazzini  for  a  good  many 
years  would  not  come  to  London  for  less  than  she  was 
receiving  abroad,  and  finally  agreed  to  do  so  only  be- 
cause she  accidentally  had  some  free  time  owing  to 
the  cancelling  of  a  previous  engagement.  She  had  re- 
fused all  offers  of  "agents,"  who  wanted  her  to  pay 
119 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

them  for  a  London  invitation.  In  her  opinion  there 
should  be  no  agents.  It  is  better  for  the  artist  to  arrive 
at  fame  by  hard  work  than  by  bribery,  she  says. 

Eventually  she  came — and  she  conquered.     Nov- 

i 

ember  2,  1907,  when  she  appeared  at  Covent  Garden, 
witnessed  the  most  sensational  dibut  there  since  Patti's 
in  1861.  As  already  stated,  "Lucia"  was  the  opera, 
and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  such  singing  had  then  been 
heard  by  the  present  generation  of  opera-goers.  "The 
pressmen,"  says  one,  "sharpened  their  pencils  and 
for  weeks  everybody  took  Tetrazzini  with  their  morn- 
ing coffee."  The  remaining  month  of  the  season  was 
all  too  short  for  the  public  appetite.  Four  concerts 
were  given  at  Covent  Garden  after  the  opera  was  fin- 
ished, and  then  the  diva  was  allowed  to  depart  for 
New  York,  where,  in  January  1908,  the  London  story 
was  repeated  with  added  effects. 

"I  was  frightfully  nervous  on  the  night  of  my  New 
York  £//£#/,"  she  says,  "and for  a  few  moments  did  not 
know  whether  or  not  I  could  sing.  But  after  the  first 
note  it  was  all  easy."  With  her  return  to  England 
for  the  grand  opera  season,  the  "boom"  reached  its 
height.  Melba  was  also  singing,  and  partisans  grew 
hot  over  the  real  or  supposed  struggle  between  the 
two  for  the  operatic  throne. 

Of  Tetrazzini's  voice  nothing  can  be  said  that  has 
not  been  said  before,  "i  o  everything  she  sings,  from 

the  simple  "  Voi  che  Sapete  "  to  the  florid  intricacy  of 

1 2O 


Pketografh  by  W.  &•  D.  Dwittty. 
TETRAZ7JNI 


TETRAZZINI 

Benedict's  "Carnival  of  Venice,"  she  brings  all  the  re- 
sources, natural  and  acquired,  of  a  most  consummate 
artist.  "There  are  only  two  ideals  for  singing,"  she 
says:  "it  must  be  beautiful  and  expressive.  These  are 
the  onlystandards  by  which  vocal  art  shouldbe  judged, 
and  it  does  not  matter  by  what  method  the  end  is  achie- 
ved. It  is  not  a  question  of  vocal  agility,  but  the  power 
to  convey  emotion  while  producing  a  beautiful  tone." 

Tetrazzini  has  had  practically  no  struggle  for  her 
position.  With  her  it  has  been  "roses,  roses,  all  the 
way."  "I  have  had  to  work  so  little,"  she  writes. 
"Even  now  I  do  not  have  to  practise  vocalises  assidu- 
ously, as  so  many  singers  do.  The  few  exercises  I  do 
use  I  have  invented  for  myself.  I  am  blessed,  more- 
over, with  a  good  memory,  and  it  is  really  true  that 
after  hearing  an  opera  for  the  first  time  I  can  sing  al- 
most anything  in  it.  Consequently,  it  is  extremely 
easy  for  me  to  acquire  new  parts.  I  have  learnt  a  part 
in  eight  days  with  only  two  hours'  practice  a  day." 

Tetrazzini  was  married  early  in  life,  but  her  husband 
died  not  many  years  afterwards.  She  has  no  children. 
She  is  one  of  the  most  painstaking  and  conscientious 
of  artists,  is  notably  free  from  the  whims  and  caprices 
traditionally  ascribed  to  the  diva,  and  probably  no 
singer  of  the  front  rank  has  given  her  managements 
less  worry  or  cause  for  uneasiness.  She  comes  down 
to  the  house  only  when  she  is  wanted  for  rehearsals  or 

performances, and  she  is  always  obliging.  She  has,be- 
121 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

sides,  a  kind  heart.  She  is  always  ready  to  give  helpful 
advice  to  a  young  artist,  and  her  purse  is  freely  opened 
to  the  less  fortunate  members  of  her  profession. 

She  is  superstitious,  of  course — most  artists  are.  A 
celebrated  tenor  carries  a  rabbit's  foot  when  he  sings; 
and  one  well-known  prima  donna  never  takes  to  the 
stage  without  tearinga  button  offher  clothes  for  "good 
luck."  Tetrazzini  refuses  to  leave  the  wings  for  the 
stage  unless  she  has  dropped  a  dagger  in  the  floor 
three  times.  If  it  sticks  each  time,  it  is  a  good  omen, 
and  she  goes  on,  confident  that  all  will  be  well.  If  not, 
it  disturbs  her  during  the  whole  opera.  Clearly,  it 
would  be  to  the  interest  of  the  management,  if  not  to 
the  singer  herself,  to  see  that  the  dagger  is  kept  well 
sharpened ! 

Asked  her  views  of  Women's  Suffrage,  Tetrazzini 
says  she  thinks  if  a  woman  has  no  voice  and  no  family 
she  is  right  to  work  for  the  suffrage.  But  "it  is  not 
good  to  take  up  two  or  three  things  at  the  same  time." 


CHAPTER   TWENTY          CARUSO 

ENRICO  CARUSO  IS  THE  GREATEST  LIVING 
tenor.  Indeed  the  alluring,  velvety,  pellucid  quality  of 
his  voice  has  perhaps  never  been  matched  in  history. 
He  has  not  only  all  the  excellent  qualities  of  the  Ital- 
ian, but  fulfils  almost  all  dramatic  demands  which  can 
rightly  be  called  German.  Technical  difficulties  do  not 
exist  for  him.  He  phrases  with  an  ease  and  a  sureness 
which  astonish  professionals  and  amateurs.  His  tone 
is  produced  without  effort ;  and  how  smooth  it  is  in  all 
the  vocal  range, how  beautiful  and  healthy!  "An  artist 
by  the  grace  of  God!"  exclaimed  a  German  professor, 
after  hearing  him. 

This  incomparable  singer  was  born  at  Naples  in 
1 873.  His  father  was  an  engineer  and  wanted  him  to 
follow  that  profession.  But  music  came  naturally  to 
the  boy,  and  he  could  not  help  singing.  The  parent 
was  annoyed,  and  declared  that  he  must  expect  no 
help  from  him  if  he  followed  up  music  as  a  profession. 
Caruso  worked  as  a  mechanic  for  some  years;  later  he 
was  in  a  chemical  factory.  One  day  he  met  a  baritone 
singer  who  reproached  him  for  singing  without  being 
taught,  and  said  he  was  spoiling  his  voice.  The  lad  re- 
plied that  he  had  no  money  for  lessons.  The  baritone 
introduced  him  to  his  own  teacher,  who  offered  a  three 
years'  course  of  lessons  on  condition  of  receiving  25 
per  cent,  of  his  earnings  in  the  subsequent  five  years. 

This  contract  broke  down,  and  Caruso  enlisted  as 

a  soldier.  His  colonel  discovered  his  voice,  secured 
123 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

lessons  for  him,and  relieved  him  of  heavyduty.  Mean- 
while, his  father  had  married  again,  and  the  new  wife 
persuaded  him  to  free  the  son.  His  brother  took  his 
place,  and  after  eighteen  months  of  military  life  he 
began  his  vocal  studies  in  dead  earnest.  His  voice 
had  been  so  properly  "placed"  by  nature  from  top  to 
bottom  that  comparatively  little  technical  training  was 
necessary.  But  it  is  strange  to  recall  the  fact  that  the 
voice  was  originally  not  only  thin  and  small,  but  that 
one  professor  could  not  decide  if  nature  had  intended 
the  young  man  for  a  tenor  or  a  baritone!  When  his 
great  predecessor,  Tamagno,  heard  him,  he  called  him 
a  tenorino,  and  advised  him  to  confine  himself  to  such 
light  roles  as  Wilhelm  in  "Mignon." 

However  Caruso's  voice  soon  began  to  develop  and 
strengthen,  and  on  the  day  of  his  debut,  in  1894,  it 
needed  no  prophet  to  foretell  that  a  vocal  wonder  of  the 
first  magnitude  had  arrived.  Had  he  sung  for  twenty- 
four  hours  daily,  he  could  not  have  filled  all  the  con- 
tracts offered  him  at  the  outset.  A  season  at  Monte 
Carlo  introduced  him  to  a  cosmopolitan  audience,  and 
resulted  in  invitations  to  sing  in  Buenos  Ayres,  New 
York,  Berlin,  Paris,  and  other  cities.  In  a  word,  the 
whole  world  was  soon  at  his  feet. 

And  what  sums  he  could  presently  command !  As  a 
boy  he  had  sung  in  one  of  the  Naples  churches  for  ten- 
pence  a  week,  and  within  a  short  time  he  was  making 

;£6o.ooo  a  year!    For  three  performances  at  Ostend 

124 


CARUSO 

he  received  ^"2000.  This  year  (1913)  he  is  getting 
£500  for  each  appearance  at  Covent  Garden.  In  1907 
he  signed  an  agreement  to  sing  eighty  times  a  year  at 
^"500  a  night.  That  probably  broke  the  record,  be- 
cause the  engagement  was  for  a  series  of  years.  But 
higher  sums  have  been  paid  to  great  singers  for  single 
appearances  or  short  engagements.  Thus,  Mme.  Patti 
received  ;£i2OO  a  night  for  singing  at  New  Orleans; 
Melba  received  £800  a  night  for  one  of  her  tours  in 
America;  Jean  de  Reszke  once  contracted  to  sing  six- 
teen times  for  £7200,  together  with  hotel  expenses 
and  the  use  of  horses  and  carriages.  Who  would  not 
be  a  popular  vocalist! 

For  all  this,  Caruso  considers  his  profession  a  pre- 
carious one.  It  needs,  he  says,  an  exceptionally  good 
voice,  a  robust  constitution,  and  incessant  study,  for 
even  temporary  illness  puts  the  singer  back.  He  has 
granted  a  good  many  interviews,  for  he  is  kind-hearted 
and  obliging.  But  he  prefers  to  save  his  voice  for  pro- 
fessional purposes.  To  one  interviewer  he  said:  "I 
dislike  talk  because  my  voice  is  too  valuable  and  costs 
lots  of  money.  I  can't  waste  it,  and  much  talk  makes 
me  nervous."  Another  time  he  said:  "When  I  was  un- 
known, I  sang  like  a  bird — careless,  without  thought  of 
nerves.  But  now  that  my  reputation  is  made  my  aud- 
iences are  moreexacting.  Here  lam  to-day,bendingbe- 
neath  the  weight  of  a  renown  which  cannot  increase, 

but  which  the  least  vocal  mishap  may  compromise." 
125 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Many  people  are  interested  in  the  question  of  what 
great  singers  eat  and  drink,  assuming  this  question  to 
be  essentially  important.  Caruso  has  satisfied  such 
people  by  writing  explicitly  on  the  point.  Here  is 
what  he  says: 

"As  regards  eating — a  rather  important  item,  by 
the  way — I  have  kept  to  the  light 'Continental'  break- 
fast, which  I  do  not  take  too  early;  then  a  rather  sub- 
stantial luncheon  towards  two  o'clock.  My  native 
macaroni,  specially  prepared  by  my  chef,  who  is  en- 
gaged particularly  for  his  ability  in  this  way,  is  often 
a  feature  in  this  midday  meal.  I  incline  towards  the 
simpler  and  more  nourishing  food,  though  my  tastes 
are  broad  in  the  matter,  but  I  lay  particular  stress  on 
the  excellence  of  the  cooking,  for  one  cannot  afford  to 
risk  one's  health  on  indifferently  cooked  food,  nomatter 
what  its  quality. 

"On  the  nights  when  1  sing  I  take  nothing  after 
luncheon,  except  perhaps  a  sandwich  and  a  glass  of 
Chianti,  until  after  the  performance,  when  I  have  a 
supper  of  whatever  I  fancy  within  reasonable  bounds. 
Being  blessed  with  a  good  digestion,  I  have  not  been 
obliged  to  take  the  extraordinary  precautions  about 
what  I  eat  that  some  singers  do.  Still,  I  am  careful 
never  to  indulge  to  excess  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table, 
for  the  condition  of  our  alimentary  apparatus  and  that 
of  the  vocal  chords  are  very  closely  related,  and  the 
unhealthy  state  of  the  one  immediately  reacts  on  the 
other. 

"My  reason  for  abstaining  from  food  for  so  long  be- 
fore singing  may  be  inquired.  It  is  simply  that  when 

126 


CARUSO 

the  large  space  required  by  the  diaphragm  in  expand- 
ing to  take  in  breath  is  partly  occupied  by  one's  dinner 
the  result  is  that  one  cannot  take  as  deep  a  breath  as 
one  would  like,  and  consequently  the  tone  suffers,  and 
the  all-important  ease  of  breathing  is  interfered  with. 
In  addition,  a  certain  amount  of  bodily  energy  is  used 
in  the  process  of  digestion  which  would  otherwise  be 
entirely  given  to  the  production  of  the  voice. 

"On  the  subject  of  whether  one  should  or  should 
not  drink  intoxicants,  you  may  inquire  what  practice 
is,  in  my  opinion,  most  in  consonance  with  a  singer's 
well-being.  Here  again,  of  course,  customs  vary  with 
the  individual.  In  Italy,  we  habitually  drink  the  light 
wines  of  the  country  with  our  meals,  and  surely  are 
never  the  worse  for  it.  I  have  retained  my  fondness 
for  my  native  Chianti,  which  I  have  even  made  on  my 
own  Italian  estate,  but  believe  and  carry  out  the  belief 
that  moderation  is  the  only  possible  course.  I  am  in- 
clined to  condemn  the  use  of  spirits,  whisky  in  part- 
icular, which  is  so  prevalent  in  the  Anglo-Saxon 
countries,  for  it  is  sure  to  inflame  the  delicate  little 
ribbons  of  tissue  which  produce  the  singing  tone,  and 
then — addio  to  a  clear  and  ringing  high  C ! 

"Though  I  indulge  occasionally  in  a  cigarette,  I 
advise  all  singers,  particularly  young  singers,  against 
this  practice,  which  can  certainly  not  fail  to  have  a  bad 
effect  on  the  delicate  lining  of  the  throat,  the  vocal 
chords,  and  the  lungs." 

From  all  this,  one  realises  that  even  the  gift  of  a  good 
voice  is  not  to  be  abused  or  treated  lightly,  and  that  the 

goose  with  the  golden  egg  must  be  carefully  nurtured. 
127 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

A  singer  of  Caruso's  rank  is  naturally  able  to  make 
his  own  terms  and  exact  his  own  conditions.  A  fine 
instance  of  this  occurred  in  1911,  when  the  eminent 
tenor  was  down  for  three  performances  at  the  Imperial 
Opera  House,  Vienna.  For  Caruso's  comfort  and 
safety,  it  was  provided  that  he  should  be  escorted  from 
the  dressing-room  to  the  stage  and  back  again  by  his 
doctor,  his  prompter, his  secretary,  his  impresario,  and 
his  conductor.  Smoking  was  to  be  strictly  prohibited 
m  every  part  of  the  house,  but  Caruso  himself  was  to 
be  allowed  to  smoke  if  he  pleased  before  the  curtain 
rose,  and  a  fireman  was  to  be  specially  detailed  to 
stand  behind  him  to  throw  the  unconsumed  end  of  his 
cigarette  in  a  basin  of  water! 

When  he  travels,  it  is  in  royal  style.  During  his 
tour  of  England  and  Scotland  in  1909,  a  train-de-luxe 
conveyed  him  to  his  various  engagements,  and  he  had 
his  own  chefvfitii  him.  For  Caruso,  as  we  have  seen, 
will  not  have  indifferent  cooking.  There  is  a  good 
story,  apropos.  He  was  once  dining  in  the  West  End  of 
London,  and  the  cook  prepared  such  a  delightful  dish 
of  macaroni,  that  he  insisted  on  going  into  the  kitchen 
to  thank  her.  He  offered  her  a  choice:  either  a  ticket 
for  his  next  concert,  or  a  song  then  and  there.  She 
chose  the  then  and  there,  and  Caruso,  one  hand  on  the 
kitchen  dresser,  sang  to  her  "La  Donna  e  mobile." 

He  has  sung  under  stranger  circumstances  than 

that.    During  one  of  his  American  tours,  he  had  to 

128 


" 'Copyrighted  1913  by  Anni  Dvjottt,  .A7".  Y.' 
CARUSO 


CARUSO 

sing  in  a  post-office  in  order  to  get  possession  of  a  re- 
gistered letter.  The  official  refused  to  hand  over  the 
packet,  declaring  he  had  no  proof  that  he  was  Caruso. 
Caruso  exhibited  letters,  cheques,  photographs;  but 
the  official,  suddenly  struck  with  a  bright  idea,  remark- 
ed: "You  claim  to  be  Caruso?  Very  well,  you  can 
easily  prove  it  by  singing  us  something. 

Thereupon  the  official  settled  himself  comfortably 
on  his  stool  to  hear  the  tenor  and  invited  his  colleagues 
to  act  as  j  udges.  Caruso,  finding  that  the  only  way  to 
obtain  possession  of  his  letter  was  to  agree  to  the  re- 
quest, gave,  in  his  most  enchanting  manner,  the  rom- 
ance from  the  third  act  of  "La  Tosca." 

"Bravo !  bravissimo ! "  exclaimed  the  officials  when 
Caruso  had  concluded.  "And  now,  here  is  your  packet. 
We  knew  who  you  were  all  the  time;  only,  as  you 
charge  the  American  public  such  high  prices  for  hear- 
ing you,  we  thought  you  ought  to  sing  us  a  song  for 
nothing !  Kindly  sign  the  receipt-book,  and  accept  our 
sincerest  thanks." 

One  more  anecdote  may  be  cited.  There  are  many 
people  who  are  always  trying  to  get  something  for  no- 
thing. One  of  their  favourite  schemes  is  to  invite  some 
artist  of  distinction,  entertain  him,  and  then  expect — 
for  nothing — a  musical  evening.  Just  such  a  party  en- 
tertained Caruso.  When  the  party  was  at  its  height, 
suggestions  were  delicately  but  pointedly  made  to  the 

amiable  singer  that  they  would  be  delighted  if  he 
129  I 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

would  give  them  a  specimen  of  his  vocal  accomplish- 
ments. "Why,"  said  one  of  the  party  (a  society  leader 
of  distinction),  "cannot  we  have  a  little  music?"  "  Con 
amore!  With  the  greatest  de  pleasure,"  said  Caruso. 
Thereupon  he  sat  down  at  the  piano  and  with  one 
finger  played  the  accompaniment  to  that  American 
classic  "Has  anybody  here  seen  Kelly?"  He  put  a 
strong  emphasis  on  the  "here"  and  let  out  tones  that 
nearly  cracked  the  window  panes.  After  they  had  re- 
covered their  breath,  someone  said:  "Oh,  Mr.  Caruso! 
would  you  not  give  us  some  more?"  "Certainly,"  said 
he.  "Con  amore!"  With  which,  he  sat  down  and 
again  with  one  finger  repeated  the  same  accompani- 
ment. "Ett  ees,"  said  he,  "a  greata  songa.  Ett  geev' 
me  da  inspiration.  I  always  feela  incline  to  sing  thata 
greata  Americana  song  after  I  have  had  a  greata  Amer- 
icana dinner  with  some  greata  Americana  friends!" 

At  the  moment  of  writing,  Caruso's  engagement  is 
reported.  In  1911  he  was  sued  at  Milan  for  breach  of 
promise  by  a  pretty  shop  girl  of  whom  he  had  become 
violently  enamoured.  The  girl  claimed  £10,000  dam- 
ages; but,  applying  the  old  principle  of  Roman  juris- 
prudence, that  a  promise  of  marriage  does  not  involve 
the  obligation  of  celebrating  it,  nor  oblige  the  person 
thus  promising  to  fulfil  any  part  agreed  upon,  in  the 
event  of  not  redeeming  his  promise,  the  judges  refused 
damages.  Nevertheless,  they  "severely  censured  "Car- 
uso, and  condemned  him  to  pay  the  costs  of  the  suit. 

130 


CHAPTER   XXI.         CLARA   BUTT 

PERHAPS  OF  ALL  LIVING  ENGLISH  SING- 
ers,  Clara  Butt  is  the  one  who  exercises  the  widest 
sway  over  the  musical  affections  of  so-called  "unmus- 
ical" people.  In  this  respect  she  resembles  the  late 
Antoinette  Sterling.  For  such  people,  and  for  all  who 
appreciate  fine  singing,  she  lavishes  her  resources  of 
voice  and  feeling  on  "The  Promise  of  Life";  on  the 
noble  depths  of  "  Ombra  Mai  Fu  " ;  on  the  virile  patriot- 
ism of  "Land  of  Hope  and  Glory";  on  the  cynical 
gaiety  of  Donizetti's  "II  Segreto."  Her  own  favourites 
are  Mendelssohn's  "O  Rest  in  the  Lord,"  and  Liddle's 
"Abide with  Me,"  which  latter  she  finds  the  primefav- 
ourite  every  where.  Next  to  it  comes  "The  Lost  Chord," 
of  which,  she  says,  "we  English  have  every  right  to  be 
proud  as  of  any  song  ever  written."  She  is  of  opinion 
that  we  are  gradually  breaking  away  from  the  "sick- 
ening sentimentality"  in  songs  that  was  once  so  dom- 
inant. 

Clara  Butt  takes  a  very  exalted  view  of  her  voc- 
ation. "I  believe,"  she  says,  "that  it  is  within  thepower 
of  an  artist  to  actually  lessen,  or,  at  anyrate,  to  tempor- 
arily relieve  the  cares  and  worries  of  which  each  mem- 
ber of  an  audience  has  a  share ;  and  I  am  sure  that  the 
easiest  way  to  do  so  is  to  sing  songs  whose  meaning 
and  whose  message  is  immediately  understandable." 
For  this  reason  she  always  chooses  as  many  songs  as 
possible  in  English. 

Clara  Butt  was  born  at  Southwick,  near  Brighton, 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

in  1873.  Her  people  removed  to  Bristol,  and  she 
studied  for  some  years  there  with  a  local  professor, 
Mr.  D.  W.  Rootham.  In  1889  she  gained  a  scholar- 
ship at  the  Royal  College  of  Music,  where  she  soon 
distinguished  herself  at  the  students'  concerts,  partic- 
ularly in  the  performance  of  opera.  Her  regular  debut 
was  made  at  the  Albert  Hall,  London,  as  Ursula  in 
Sullivan's  "Golden  Legend,"  December  1892.  Her 
commanding  presence  and  the  extraordinary  beauty 
of  her  voice  made  a  great  impression,  and  concert  en- 
gagements began  to  flow  in  at  once.  Next  year  she 
made  her  festival  dtbut  at  Hanley;  sang  also  at  the 
Bristol  Festival;  and  in  1894 appeared  at  the  Handel 
Festival  in  the  Crystal  Palace.  She  is  still  particularly 
fond  of  singing  in  oratorio,  especially  if  the  perform- 
ance is  in  a  cathedral. 

In  1895  she  decided  upon  further  study,  and  went 
to  Paris  to  have  lessons  from  Mme.  Etelka  Gerster. 
When  she  returned  to  England  it  was  "with  all  her 
powers,  vocal  and  artistic,  fully  developed,  to  take  at 
once  her  unique  place  among  great  singers."  She  be- 
came associated  with  Mr.  Kennerley  Rumford,  and  the 
pair  got  married  in  1900,  after  a  joint  tour  which  was 
"turned  by  the  interest  of  the  public  in  the  approach- 
ing event  into  something  of  a  triumphal  procession." 

A  word  or  two  about  Mr.  Rumford  here.  Born  in 
London  in  1871,  he  began  to  study  for  the  army  and 
went  abroad  to  learn  languages.  Taking  singing  les- 

132 


CLARA    BUTT 

sons  in  Paris,  he  was  strongly  advised  to  enter  the  pro- 
fession. His  master  at  this  time  was  Signer  Slariglia, 
who  had  taught  the  De  Reszke  brothers.  Returning 
to  England  in  1896,  he  had  further  lessons  from  Pro- 
fessor Blume,Mr.  Plunkett  Greene's  master, and  soon 
appeared  successfully  at  the  more  important  concerts 
in  London  and  the  provinces.  Since  his  marriage,  his 
musical  career  has,  of  course,  been  linked  entirely  with 
that  of  his  wife.  His  country  may  well  be  proud  of  his 
fine  voice,  his  cultured  and  interesting  style.  He  is, 
it  may  be  noted,  a  keen  cricketer,  a  good  rider,  and  a 
keen  golfer. 

It  is  a  belief  held  by  a  great  many  people  that  only 
those  can  sing  who  possess  a  throat  and  vocal  organs 
suitable  for  voice  production.  Clara  Butt  does  not 
agree  with  this  at  all.  "My  view,"  she  says,  "is  that 
if  you  are  meant  to  be  a  singer  you  will  be  a  singer." 
This  view  she  illustrates  from  her  own  experience. 
When  she  was  studying  at  the  R.C.M.  she  was  con- 
stantly being  urged  to  have  her  tonsils  cut.  For  a  long 
time  she  held  out  against  it,  but  at  last  consented. 
However,  when  she  was  actually  seated  in  the  oper- 
ating chair,  the  doctor  asked  her  to  sing  the  vowel  "e" 
on  a  high  note.  She  did,  and  he  remarked  upon  the 
way  her  tonsils  contracted  as  she  sang. 

All  at  once,  she  recalled  the  case  of  a  girl  she  knew 
who  had  lost  the  ability  to  sing  in  tune  after  her  ton- 
sils had  been  cut.  This  decided  her  in  an  instant:  it 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

might  be  the  same  in  her  own  case.  "  I  refused  to  let 
the  operation  be  performed,"  she  writes,  "and  from 
that  day  to  this  have  never  allowed  my  throat  to  be 
tampered  with  surgically  in  any  way.  Yet  I  have  had 
every  sort  of  a  throat  that  a  singer  would  wish  to  avoid 
without  my  voice  being  affected  in  the  least.  I  started 
life,  almost,  with  diphtheria,  have  suffered  from  aden- 
oids, and  have  experienced  several  attacks  of  quinsy. 
Among  myself  and  my  three  sisters,  all  of  us  being 
singers,  my  throat  is  the  worst  of  the  lot  and  not  in  the 
least  like  a  singer's  throat.  The  sister  whose  voice 
most  nearly  resembles  mine  is  the  one  whose  throat 
is  most  like  mine,  and  the  sister  who  has  a  throat  and 
vocal  organs  which  are  ideal  from  an  anatomical  point 
of  view  possesses  a  soprano  voice  which,  though  part- 
icularly sweet,  is  not  strong." 

It  is  generally  agreed  that  the  mind  plays  a  promin- 
ent part  where  the  voice  is  concerned.  But  this  de- 
pends on  theindividual.  Clara  Butt  says  that  whatever 
be  the  condition  of  her  mind  or  body,  she  is  able  to  sing 
in  a  sort  of  sub-conscious  state.  And  this  she  proves 
by  citing  a  weird  experience.  At  one  time  and  another 
she  has  had  to  have  operations  performed  which  nec- 
essitated her  being  put  under  ether.  On  every  single 
occasion  she  has  sung  in  full  voice  while  under  the 
anaesthetic! 

This  was  most  remarkable  on  the  occasion  when  she 
was  being  operated  on  for  appendicitis,  for  then  the 

134 


CLARA    BUTT 

abdominal  muscles  which  control  the  breathing  must 
naturally  have  been  interfered  with.  "My  husband," 
she  writes,  "will  probably  always  recall  another  occa- 
sion of  the  kind  as  one  of  the  most  unpleasant  experi- 
ences he  has  ever  had.  He  was  anxiously  awaiting  in 
another  room  the  verdict  of  the  doctor — the  operation 
being  a  serious  one  and  my  life  actually  in  danger — 
and  was  horrified,  at  a  time  when  he  knew  a  crisis 
must  have  been  reached,  to  hear  me  suddenly  burst 
out  into  song — a  song  he  did  not  know,  but  all  who 
heard  it  say  it  was  sacred  in  character  and  very  melo- 
dious, and  that  I  sang  in  full  voice.  The  fact  is  that 
trouble,  worry,  or  ill-health  have  no  effect  upon  the 
voice  itself.  The  voice  is  always  there:  it  is  only  the 
power  of  using  it  that  may  be  impaired."  The  point 
is  somewhat  debatable,  but  at  least  the  lady's  insist- 
ence on  it  has  furnished  us  with  some  startling  per- 
sonal experiences. 

Clara  Butt  takes  care  never  to  overwork  her  remark- 
able voice  before  a  concert.  She  wants  to  be  at  her 
very  best  on  the  platform,  and  to  this  end  rests  both 
body  and  voice  beforehand.  In  her  counsels  to  young 
singers  she  says:  "Remember  that  while  polishing  is 
highly  desirable,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  over-polish- 
ing, and  this,  instead  of  improving,  only  wears  out.  I 
am  a  great  believer  in  the  quiet  study  of  a  song  without 
the  aid  of  a  piano.  Not  only  does  this  avoid  tiring  the 
voice,  but  it  enables  the  singer  to  fully  grasp  all  the 
135 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

beauty  and  the  meaning  of  the  words  and  the  music, 
and  so  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  subject  when  on 
the  platform."  Like  Caruso,  she  does  not  want  to  have 
her  throat  tired  by  talking  before  a  concert.  She  has 
no  food  or  drink  fads.  Anything  that  agrees  with  the 
digestion  agrees  with  the  vocal  chords,  she  says. 

She  confesses  that  she  is  happiest  when  singing  to 
London  audiences.  In  the  provinces  she  has  found 
that  Bradford,  Liverpool,  and  Newcastle  are  the  most 
enthusiastic.  But  America  and  theColonies  pay  better. 
In  1908  she  and  her  husband  made  a  joint  tour  in  Aus- 
tralia. They  were  away  eleven  months,  and  they  made 
in  that  time  £50,000!  After  this,  it  is  amusing  to  learn 
that  Clara  Butt  once  received  a  manuscript  song  with 
a  remittance  of  13^.  6d.^  and  an  intimation  from  the 
composer  that  he  would  make  it  1 5 s.  if  she  would  sing 
the  song  regularly. 


Phct 
CLARA  BUTT 


CHAPTER   XXII.      EMMA  CALVE 

IN  1896  A  MAGAZINE  WRITER  TOLD  OF  A 
visit  to  Calve  in  Paris.  He  found  her  rooms  charming. 
As  he  leant  back  in  the  soft  easy  chair,  he  noticed 
with  what  excellent  taste  she  had  selected  yellow  and 
white  as  a  background  to  her  own  dark  beauty.  A 
piano  between  the  two  large  windows  contained  many 
photographs  of  celebrities  and  titled  personages,  all 
autographed,  and  offering  the  originals'  homage  to 
"the  adorable  Carmen."  Ellen  Terry's  portraits  were 
prominent,  each  bearing  some  kindly  expression  of 
sentiment  in  her  own  hand.  On  one  was  inscribed: 
"  One  lesson  in  English  I  will  give  you — '  I  love  you ' — 
that  is  all. — Ellen  Terry."  The  spirit  of  Calve"  in  short, 
was  felt  all  through  the  house.  She  is  fond  of  light  and 
colour;  and  is  a  firm  believer  in  the  beneficence  of  sun 
and  air.  She  has  her  windows  open  nearly  all  day. 
Calves  family  are  descended  from  the  Albigenses. 
As  befits  a  Carmen,  she  was  born  at  Madrid,  in  1864. 
Her  father,  a  civil  engineer,  died  when  she  was  six- 
teen. Her  mother,  a  Frenchwoman,  was  left  in  poor 
circumstances  with  the  care  of  a  family  of  whom 
Emma  was  the  oldest.  The  girl's  training  had  been  of 
a  strictly  religious  nature,  first  at  the  Convent  of  Ste. 
Affrique,  and  afterwards  at  the  Sacred  Heart  Convent 
at  Montpellier.  The  quiet  life  of  the  convent  held  out 
strong  attractions  for  her;  but  the  thought  of  taking 
the  veil  was  overcome  by  pressing  necessities  at  home. 
Her  help  was  needed  to  support  the  family,  and  this 
137 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

finally  decided  her  career.  She  was  singing  one  day 
in  the  convent  chapel,  when  a  gentleman  from  Paris 
heard  her;  and,  knowing  the  circumstances  of  the 
family,  pressed  her  mother  to  send  the  girl  to  Paris  for 
training.  She  shrank  from  going;  but  as  she  char- 
r.cteristically  says,  "Fate  was  too  much  for  me,"  and, 
shortly  after,  Emma  entered  upon  the  course  of  train- 
ingwhich  led  up  to  her  marvellously  successful  career. 
It  is  not  remarkable  to  record  that  in  the  career  of 
the  prima  donna  there  occurred  a  period  when  the 
outlook  seemed  dark  and  discouraging.  The  critics 
had  been  harsh.  Her  singing  qualities  were  beyond 
question;  but  she  lacked,  they  said,  every  essential  of 
an  actress.  In  addition  to  this,  her  suffering  was  in- 
tensified by  an  unhappy  love  affair,  in  which  she  ideal- 
ised the  passion  and  its  object,  only  to  realise  the 
bitterness  of  her  illusion  when  she  came  to  earth 
again.  Moreover,  she  endured  great  privations  from 
poverty,  though  afterwards  she  took  the  view  that  to 
the  artist  suffering  is  as  essential  to  success  as  auda- 
city. Heartsick,  depressed  mentally  and  physically, 
the  girl  of  nineteen  returned  to  her  home  in  the  Pyr- 
enees, to  await,  as  it  proved,  the  awakening  of  her 
highest  temperament.  She  drew  from  nature  the  art 
of  living ;  the  child  became  the  woman,  and  she  re- 
turned to  Paris  matured,  buoyant,  and  hopeful.  A 
period  of  sojourn  in  Italy  followed,  where  she  first 
saw  and  heard  Duse.  The  great  artist's  acting  was  a 

138 


EMMA    CALVfi 

revelation  to  the  young  singer,  and  she  saw  her  in 
many  roles,  but  never  in"Cavalleria  Rusticana";  so 
that  Duse  in  no  way  influenced  her  conception  of  the 
great  rdle  she  was  afterwards  to  undertake.  Calve's 
impassioned  acting,  her  magnetic  personality,  and  ad- 
mirable voice  won  for  her  a  most  brilliant  success  in 
Italy,  where  she  appeared  at  La  Scala  and  other  lead- 
ing opera-houses. 

It  was  in  January  1 892  that  she  created  the  part  of 
Santuzza  at  the  Parisian  frem&re  of  "Cavalleria  Rus- 
ticana." Three  months  later  London  heard  her  and 
Mascagni's  opera  together  for  the  first  time.  She 
also  sang  in  the  first  English  performance  of  "L'Amico 
Fritz"  and  created  Amy  Robsart  in  De  Lara's  opera. 
Her  name  is  furthermore  connected  with  the  initial 
hearing  of  two  of  Massenet's  operas,  "La  Navarraise" 
in  London  (1894)  and  "Sappho"  in  Paris  (1897). 

But  it  is  with  Carmen  above  all  that  the  dark-eyed 
Emma  Calve  must  always  be  associated.  Carmen  is 
a  rfile  that  exercises  a  great  fascination  over  artists. 
It  offers  so  many  opportunities  and  can  be  played  (and 
sung  too)  in  so  many  different  ways.  There  are  four 
elements  in  Carmen's  character:  she  was  a  daughter 
of  the  people,  she  was  a  reckless  flirt,  she  was  full  of 
passion,  and  she  was  superstitious.  The  differences 
between  one  Carmen  and  another  resolve  themselves 
into  a  question  of  the  greater  or  lesser  prominence 
given  to  one  or  other  of  these.  One  is  a  greater  flirt 
139 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

and  more  heartless;  the  other  is  more  sensual;  the 
third  is  more  plebeian.  Some  Carmens  love  Don  Jos£ 
a"nd  merely  play  with  Escamillo;  others  love  Escam- 
illo  and  regard  Don  Jos£  as  a  bore.  Mme.  Roze's 
assumption  emphasized  the  "brutal  animalism"  of 
the  gipsy  less  than  that  of  Minnie  Hauck,  but  the 
latter's  representation  was  followed  in  all  its  essent- 
ial details  by  Calve,  as  well  as  by  Pauline  Lucca  and 
Zelie  de  Lussan.  The  seemingly  reckless  audacity  of 
Calve's  realism  in  this  part  is  controlled  and  guided 
by  the  powers  of  selection  and  creation  that  belong 
only  to  the  greatest  artists,  and  reinforced  by  an  ex- 
quisitely sweet  and  perfectly  trained  voice.  The  com- 
bined result  is  unforgettable. 

Mme.  Calve"  says  she  often  longs  for  something 
higher  and  better  than  opera:  she  would  like  to  be  an 
actress  pure  and  simple.  If  she  were  to  lose  her  sing- 
ing voice,  she  would  at  once  leave  the  operatic  stage 
for  the  legitimate  drama.  She  is  full  of  dramatic  earn- 
estness. Before  looking  at  the  music  of  an  opera  she 
reads  up  the  subject  in  history  or  fiction,  and  if  poss- 
ible goes  and  mixes  with  the  people  of  the  country 
where  the  scene  is  laid. 

Calv6  has  toured  all  over  the  world,  but  has  a  strong 
liking  for  American  audiences.  "They  are  kind,  friend- 
ly, and  infinitely  more  impressionable  than  Parisian 
audiences,"  she  says.  And  of  course  America  pays 

her  handsomely.    In  1904  she  concluded  an  engage- 

140 


EMMA    CALV£ 

merit  with  an  impresario  to  give  seventy  concerts  in 
the  States  at  a  fee  of  £400  a  night,  so  that  in  little 
more  than  six  months  she  earned  the  princely  sum  of 
^28,000.  She  had  been  previously  paid  £300  nightly 
for  singing  in  opera  in  America. 

Calve"  has  a  superb  lithe  form,  and  the  large  dark  eyes 
and  delicately-modelled  features  give  her  a  charm- 
ing appearance.  She  is  frank,  cordial,  young-spirited, 
easy-going,  and  is  intensely  admired,  both  by  her  as- 
sociates at  the  theatre  and  in  the  drawing-room.  She 
is  a  curious  combination  of  the  developed  woman  and 
the  simple  girl.  No  one  can  prevent  her  from  saying 
and  doing  as  she  pleases ;  but  her  impulses  are  seldom 
unkind.  She  cares  less  for  the  socialadjuncts  of  her  art 
than  any  other  singer  of  her  time.  In  this  connection 
shehasforciblyexpressedher  opinion:  "Doyou think," 
she  says,  "that  ignorant  people,  with  their  silly  compli- 
ments, pleaseme?  Doyou  think  I  like  togooffthe  stage 
half  dazed  from  playing  Ophelia,  or  half  ill  from  Car- 
men, to  hear  half  a  dozen  chattering  magpies  talk  non- 
sense while  my  mind  is  occupied  with  my  creation?" 
Calve"  has  one  hobby — an  intense  love  of  the  mys- 
tics. She  believes  thoroughly  in  spiritualism,  theos- 
ophy,  and  astrology.  The  occultism  of  India  has  an 
intense  charm  for  her,  and  on  every  public  appearance 
she  carries  with  her  an  amulet  from  Hindustan  as  a 
talisman.  Whenever  she  sings,  this  topaz  is  worn,  and 
nothing  can  induce  her  to  appear  without  it. 
141 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Calv6's  permanent  home  is  in  Paris,  but  she  spends 
her  vacations  at  a  delightful  chdteau  in  the  Cevennes. 
There  she  often  sings  in  the  village  church,  and  in  the 
cottages  of  the  peasants;  even  in  the  open  air  her  voice 
is  heard.  She  loves  to  ramble  and  draw  from  nature 
not  only  the  material  for  revitalising  the  ruddyconstit- 
ution  with  which  she  is  blessed,  but  also  those  in- 
spirations which  later,  amid  the  pomp  and  splendour 
of  social  display,  are  to  charm  her  thousands  of  ad- 
mirers in  every  part  of  the  world  who  are  yearly  en- 
chanted by  her  passionate  acting. 


XXIII.  MME.  KIRKBY  LUNN 

MME.KIRKBYLUNN,WHO  IN  PRIVATE  LIFE 
is  Mrs.  Kearson,  has  many  claims  to  distinction.  She 
was  the  first  artiste  of  British  origin  and  trained  in 
England  to  achieve  a  prominent  position  at  Covent 
Garden  in  the  grand  season  and  at  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House  of  New  York.  She  was  also  the  first 
artiste  to  sing  in  English  the  parts  of  Kundry  in  "  Par- 
sifal," Brangane  in  "Tristan  and  Isolde,"  and  Delilah 
in  "Samson  and  Delilah,"  perhaps  the  greatest  tri- 
umph of  her  career.  In  his  Reminiscences  Sir  Charles 
Santley  writesof  her:  "Since  Pauline  Viardot  sang  at 
Drury  Lane  in  1858,  only  one  great  lyric  artist  has 
appeared  at  the  Opera.  Her  name  is  Mme.  Kirkby 
Lunn.  She  is," he  adds, "the  most  accomplished  singer 
I  have  ever  heard." 

The  lady  thus  eulogised  was  born  in  Manchester  in 
1873.  She  knew  her  future  husband  (a  distant  cousin) 
from  her  twelfth  year,  and  he  encouraged  her  to  sing, 
playing  her  accompaniments  with  enthusiasm.  She 
took  singing  lessons  locally,  and  in  1 893  went  to  the 
Royal  College  of  Music,  where  she  gained  an  open 
scholarship,  and  studied  under  Signer  Visetti.  In  stu- 
dent performances  of  Schumann's  "Genoveva"  and 
Delibes'  "Le  Roi  1'a  dit"  she  showed  such  fine  pro- 
mise that  SirCharles  Stanford  selected  herfor  the  part 
of  Norah  in  the  production  in  1896  of  his  "Shamus 
O'Brien,"  and  her  success  in  that  role  secured  her  a 
five  years'  engagement  at  Covent  Garden  for  small 
143 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

parts.  Sir  Augustus  Harris'  death  ended  the  contract, 
and  for  three  years,  from  1897  to  1899,  she  toured 
with  the  Carl  Rosa  Opera  Company  as  their  principal 
mezzo  andcontralto,both  in  their  London  and  provinc- 
ial engagements. 

In  1899  she  married  and  abandoned  the  stage  for 
a  time  to  sing  for  Mr.  Robert  Newman  in  concerts 
at  Queen's  Hall  and  elsewhere.  But,  in  May  1901, 
she  reappeared  at  Covent  Garden  as  the  Sandman  in 
"  Hansel  and  Gretel."  Next  year  she  sang  at  the  Shef- 
field and  Norwich  Festivals,  and  paid  her  first  visit  to 
America.  In  1909  came  her  greatest  triumph — that 
magnificent  performance  of  Delilah  already  indicated. 
She  remains  famous  for  the  rendering  of  this  rdle,  as 
well  as  of  Carmen  and  Orfeo  (Gluck). 

Of  course  she  has  suffered  the  usual  Yankee  inter- 
viewer. In  1910  she  told  a  St.  Louis  pressman  that  ev- 
ery where  in  America  she  found  people  mad  for  opera 
and  high-class  music.  In  England,  when  she  left,  the 
people  were  wild  about  land  and  whisky  taxes,  not 
to  mention  the  House  of  Lords  and  the  suffragettes. 
Whereas  here  in  the  States  the  women  talk  music  and 
the  men  baseball.  She  remarked  this  to  a  nice  Amer- 
ican,who  said, "Oh  yes, that's  the wayour  interestsare 
very  properly  divided."  "Who  manages  your  political 
affairs?"  asked  Mme.  Lunn.  "We  hire  a  President 
and  Congress  to  take  that  off  our  minds,"  was  the  reply. 
"And  the  trusts  prefer  politics  to  music  and  baseball, 

144 


MME.    KIRKBY    LUNN 

and  that  helps  us  a  bit."  Mme.  Lunn  says  the  English 
are  very  serious.  Everyone  wants  to  pin  a  suffragette 
button  on  her.  Poor  men  talk  of  Henry  George,  and 
rich  men  growl  at  the  growing  impudence  of  the  lower 
classes.  She  considers  that  the  career  of  the  woman 
singer  is  not  easy.  To  keep  a  reputation  is  harder  than 
to  acquire  it.  Each  success  means  a  new  standard. 
Yet  the  rewards  are  great.  She  is  content. 


K 


XXIV.  PLUNKETT   GREENE 

"MR.  PLUNKETT  GREENE  AND  MR.  KENN- 
erley  Rumford  are  both  young  baritones,  both  of  good 
family,  both  fond  of  sport  and  of  fishing.  Both  were 
married  last  year,  and  both  became  fathers  last  month. 
Mr.  Greene's  son  was  born  July  I,  and  Mr.  Rumford's 
daughter  on  July  4.  Mr.  Rumford  had  a  concert  en- 
gagement for  July  3,  but  he  could  not  leave  home,  so 
Mr.  Greene,  whose  anxieties  were  over,  sang  for  him." 

This  paragraph  is  taken  from  a  musical  journal  of 
1901.  A  good  many  things  happen  in  twelve  years, 
but  Mr.  Plunkett  Greene  is  still  a  master  of  thoughtful 
interpretation,  whether  in  oratorio,  in  the  lieder  of 
Schumann  and  Brahms, or  in  those  delightful  arrange- 
ments of  Irish  melodies  by  Stanford  and  Somervell 
which  he  has  made  peculiarly  his  own. 

For  Mr.  Greene  is  an  Irishman — born  at  Wicklow 
in  1865.  He  drifted  into  music  literally  by  accident. 
Being  at  Clifton  College  for  his  education,  he  was 
smashed  up  at  football,  and  took  a  year  to  recover. 
This  prevented  his  going  to  Oxford  and  preparing  for 
the  Bar.  Meanwhile  his  voice  developed,  and  he  went 
abroad  to  have  it  trained. 

He  made  his  first  public  appearance  in  "The  Mes- 
siah" at  the  People's  Palace,  London,  in  January  1888, 
and  soon  became  a  familiar  figure  at  London  concerts. 
He  sang  also  in  opera  at  Covent  Garden,  but  opera 
was  not  his  forte.  At  the  Gloucester  Festival  of  1 892 

he  sang  the  name-part  in  the  oratorio  of  "Job,"  speci- 

146 


PLUNKETT    GREENE 

ally  written  for  him  by  Sir  Hubert  Parry,  whose  son- 
in-law  he  became  eight  years  later;  and  in  1893  he 
began  a  happy  and  still-continued  association  with 
Mr.  Leonard  Berwick,  the  pianist. 

He  has  toured  successfully  in  Germany  and  Ame- 
rica; and  he  finds  that  the  most  keen  and  least  blast 
concert  audiences  are  in  the  States  and  Canada.  In 
our  own  country,  he  says,  northern  audiences  are 
superior  to  southern.  Public  school  boys  make  a 
splendid  audience.  Mr.  Greene  can  always  tell  if  his 
song  makes  an  impression;  there  is  a  kind  of  magnet- 
ism that  passes  to  and  fro  between  singer  and  audi- 
ence. Many  songs  are  received  in  silence  because  the 
tribute  to  them  is  not  applause.  With  an  intelligent 
audience  Mr.  Greene  never  feels  tired.  He  is  nervous 
at  the  prospect  of  a  public  appearance,  but  this  feeling 
disappears  as  he  steps  on  the  platform.  His  recitals 
are  trying.  He  sings  for  an  hour  and  a  half  with  his 
body  at  nervous  strain,  his  mind  and  memory  oc- 
cupied, and  his  throat  muscles  hard  at  work.  He  ridic- 
ules the  stories  that  are  current  about  many  profes- 
sional singers.  "A  singer,  for  example,  who  drinks 
or  uses  drugs,  is  bound  to  go  under.  People  seem  to 
enjoy  retailing  scandal  of  this  sort." 

Mr.  Greene  has  made  a  name  for  himself  as  an  ex- 
pounder of  the  art  of  singing.  He  has  lectured  fre- 
quently on  the  subject,  and  his  name  is  on  the  title 
page  of  a  book  published  by  Macmillan.  In  this  book 
147 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

he  takes  you  behind  the  scenes  and  shows  you  how 
to  study,  how  to  "bring  out  the  grain"  in  a  song.  There 
are  quotations  to  cap  every  point  for  the  intellectual 
singer,  and  a  number  of  songs  are  fully  analysed  for 
interpretation. 

Mr.  Greene  propounds  three  rules  which  must  be 
observed  by  all  who  would  render  a  song  properly. 
In  the  first  place,  the  rhythm  of  the  song  must  be  re- 
ligiously preserved.  The  necessity  of  taking  breath 
should  never  under  any  circumstances  be  allowed,  as 
it  so  often  is,  to  interrupt  the  march  of  the  rhythm. 
The  second  rule  is:  sing  mentally  through  the  rests. 
From  the  first  introductory  note  on  the  piano  to  the  fin- 
al note  of  the  concluding  symphony  the  singer  should 
be  taking  part  with  his  "mental  voice."  The  third  rule 
is  that  singing  should  be  speech  in  music.  Words 
should  be  pronounced  in  singing  just  as  they  are  in 
conversation.  On  the  whole  subject  he  summarises  his 
views  as  follows:  (i)  Granted  the  gifts  of  technique 
and  the  observance  of  the  rules;  (2)  Find  the  atmos- 
phere of  your  song, and  sing  it  as  a  whole;  sing  it  as 
you  would  speak  it. 

Mr.  Greene  has  been  the  victim  of  printers'  errors, 
like  other  people.  He  was  once  announced  to  sing  the 
"Eel  Ring"  (Erl  King)  and  the  "Heavy  Cow"  (Kerry 
Cow)l 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 

VARIOUS  VOCALISTS  JOHN  COATES 

FEW  SINGERS,  IT  HAS  BEEN  TRULY  SAID, 
can  boast  of  so  complete  an  equipment,  vocal,  intellect- 
ual, and  temperamental,  as  Mr.  John  Coates.  He  can 
act  as  well  as  sing,  and  he  is  a  fluent  linguist  besides. 
This  eminent  tenor  was  born  at  Girlington,near  Brad- 
ford, where  his  father  was  choirmaster  at  one  of  the 
churches.  He  did  a  good  deal  of  singing  in  church 
choirs  and  choral  societies  as  a  boy. 

His  ambition  always  was  to  be  a  singer,  but  his 
father  died  when  he  was  twelve,  and  he  had  to  go  into 
an  office.  However,  all  his  spare  time  was  given  to 
musical  study,  and  after  gaining  some  local  reputation 
(his  home  was  then  in  Bradford),  he  threw  up  the 
office  and  proceeded  to  London  with  his  wife  and  child. 
He  possessed  less  than  £100  with  which  to  fight  the 
world.  It  was  his  idea  to  study  at  the  Royal  Academy 
of  Music,  but  on  calling  there,  found  he  would  have  to 
pay  a  guinea  to  be  heard.  So  he  returned  to  his  little 
home  and  consulted  his  wife,  who  thought  that  he 
ought  to  be  paid  the  guinea  for  singing.  Presently  he 
managed  to  arrange  for  lessons  with  William  Shake- 
speare; Mr.  D'Oyly  Carte  heard  him,  and  a  cttbut  in 
"Utopia  Limited,"  as  well  as  a  tour  in  America,  re- 
sulted. 

Five  or  six  years  followed  of  comic  opera  work,  till, 
in  1900, he  madehis  firstgreat  success  as  Perkin  War- 
beck,  in  "The  Gay  Pretenders,"  at  the  Old  Globe 
149 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Theatre.  Nextyearhehad  his  firstfestival  engagement 
at  Leeds,  and  since  then  his  name  has  seldom  been  ab- 
sent from  festival  programmes.  He  has  appeared  at 
Covent  Garden  in  various  roles,  and  has  besides  been 
engaged  at  the  Royal  Opera  Houses  of  Berlin,  Han- 
over, and  Leipzig.  He  is  popular  in  many  other  Ger- 
man cities,  where  he  is  known  as  a  singer  oilteder  and 
in  oratorio.  In  191 1  he  went  on  a  lengthy  tour  with  the 
Quinlan  Opera  Company,  as  principal  tenor,  in  South 
Africa  and  Australia.  Mr.  Coates' recreations  are  pleas- 
antly alliterative,  being  golfing  and  gardening. 

ROBERT  RADFORD 

The  true  basso  profundo  is  a  rare  bird  nowadays, 
but  in  Robert  Radford  we  have  a  real  and  disting- 
uished specimen.  He  is  best  known  perhaps  on  the 
concert  platform,  but  the  quality  and  compass  of  his 
voice  serve  him  well  for  opera,  especially  for  such 
Wagnerian  parts  as  Fasolt  in  "The  Rhinegold"  and 
Hundingin  ''The  Valkyrie."  He  has  frequently  been 
heard  at  Covent  Garden  in  both  these  roles,  and  he  was 
chosen  to  sing  them  when  "The  Ring"  was  first  pro- 
duced in  Scotland,  at  Edinburgh,  in  1910. 

His  favourite  parts  are,  however,  he  says,  King 
Mark,  in  "Tristan,"  and  the  bass  solos  in  Haydn's 
"Creation."  Since  his  first  important  engagement  at 
the  Norwich  Festival  in  1 899,  he  has  been  constantly 

engaged  in  festival  work,  and  has  sung  for  nearly 

ISO 


VARIOUS    VOCALISTS 

every  great  choral  and  orchestral  society  in  the  king- 
dom. His  concert  repertoire  includes,  of  course,  all 
the  old  deep-bass  favourites, such  as"In  Cellar  Cool," 
and  many  newer  things.  He  complains  that  in  these 
days  all  bass  music  is  written  for  a  high  baritone. 

Mr.  Radford  was  born  at  Nottingham,  in  1 874,  the 
son  of  a  lace  manufacturer.  He  had  his  musical  train- 
ing at  the  R.A.M.,  of  which  he  has  been  a  Fellow  since 
1906.  His  recreations  are  golf,  sketching,  and  music- 
al composition.  He  has  published  several  songs, 
though  under  a  pseudonym. 

WATKIN   MILLS 

Beside  Mr.  Radford  may  be  placed  Mr.  Watkin 
Mills,  described  in  one  work  of  reference  as  a  "bass- 
baritone."  Mr.  Mills  is  a  regular  globe-trotter,  known 
and  applauded  wherever  the  English  language  is 
spoken.  He  has  been  many  times  to  America  and 
Canada,  and  has  had  the  most  enthusiastic  audiences 
in  Australia  and  New  Zealand. 

He  was  born  in  Gloucestershire  in  1856,  and  his 
mother  declared  that  he  could  sing  before  he  could 
walk!  He  sang  soprano  till  he  was  sixteen;  playing 
flute  and  harmonium,  too ;  and  after  his  voice  "  broke" 
he  served  for  a  few  years  at  Wells  Cathedral.  Then 
he  went  for  further  study,  first  to  London  and  after- 
wards to  Italy.  He  had  so  far  been  engaged  solely  in 
church  music  and  oratorio,  and  he  felt  that  Italy,  from 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

its  more  dramatic  leanings,  would  give  him  greater 
breadth  and  better  style.  "We  English  are  too  level, 
too  cold,"  he  says;  "the  Italian  warmth  needs  to  be 
infused  into  our  singing." 

When  he  came  back  to  England,  it  was  to  sing  with 
Sims  Reeves  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  was  engaged  for  all  the  big  concerts 
and  festivals.  He  likes  oratorio  work,  and  his  favour- 
ites here  are  "The  Messiah,"  "Elijah,"  and  "The 
Creation."  His  song  repertoire  is  immense.  He  gen- 
erally begins  with  the  best  music  and  finishes  with 
lighter  ballads,  folk  songs,  and  new  songs.  His  tour 
deforce  was  in  Canada,  where  he  sang  103  songs  in 
five  successive  nights!  Such  Herculean  tasks  are 
possible  to  him  because  he  is  strong  physically.  He 
does  not  find  it  necessary  to  be  cranky  about  diet. 
"Good,  plain,  well-cooked  food  is  all  I  require,"  he 
says.  He  takes  no  particular  precautions  for  keeping 
his  voice  in  order;  but  before  a  big  programme  he  finds 
an  afternoon  nap  a  wonderful  restorer,  resting  both 
brain  and  voice.  His  favourite  recreation  is — golf! 

Mr.  Mills  has  an  original  notion  for  dealing  with  the 
incorrigible  people  who  persist  in  talking  while  music 
is  going  on.  He  would  "sing  at  them  till  they  stop!" 
One  envies  his  endurance.  Some  years  ago  there  was 
a  man  going  about  who  undertook  to  swing  clubs  for 
twelve  hours  every  day  for  a  week  without  stopping. 

If  Mr.  Watkin  Mills  feels  himself  equal  to  something 

152 


VARIOUS    VOCALISTS 

of  that  kind  in  regard  to  his  voice  he  may  succeed 
with  the  talkers;  but  one  fears  that  he  will  tire  himself 
out  long  before  the  talkers  are  tired. 

ADA  CROSSLEY 

Miss  Ada  Crossley  (since  1905  Mrs.  Muecke)  is  a 
well-known  contralto:  born  in  Australia,  her  mother 
being  a  member  of  the  poet  Cowper's  family.  She- 
began  her  musical  studies  early,  and  between  twelve 
and  fifteen  regularly  led  the  singing  at  certain  churches 
in  her  village.  Then  she  took  to  the  piano,  and  trav- 
elled to  Melbourne,  upwards  of  50  miles,  twice  a  week 
for  lessons. 

It  was  in  Melbourne  that  she  made  her  first  public 
appearance,  in  1892.  Coming  to  Europe  in  1894,  she 
had  lessons  from  Mme.  Marchesi,  and  also  received 
training  in  oratorio  work  from  Sir  Charles  Santley. 
She  made  her  London  dtbut  at  Queen's  Hall  in  1895, 
and  since  then  she  has  appeared  at  nearly  every  great 
festival  in  the  Empire.  At  the  Leeds  Festival  of  1898 
she  had  a  curious  experience.  At  the  performance  of 
"Elijah"  (in  which  she  had  not  been  set  down  to  sing) 
the  contralto  soloist  did  not  appear,  owing  to  a  mis- 
take she  had  made  as  to  the  hour  of  the  performance. 
"Where's  AdaCrossley?"  anxiously  asked  Sir  Arthur 
Sullivan,  the  conductor.  "Sitting  in  the  audience," 
was  the  reply.  "Fetch  her  up,"  said  Sullivan,  and 
153 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Miss  Crossley,  who  knew  "Elijah"  perfectly,  came 
to  the  rescue  and  made  her  mark. 

She  had  no  fewer  than  five  "command"  appearances 
before  Queen  Victoria  within  two  years.  It  was  dur- 
ing the  dark  days  of  the  South  African  War  that,  in 
St.  George's  Chapel,  Windsor,  the  Queen  listened  to 
a  performance  of  Mendelssohn's  "Elijah,"  and  when 
Miss  Crossley  sang  "O  Rest  in  the  Lord,"  the  vener- 
able monarch  was  seen  to  be  weeping.  Miss  Crossley's 
principal  recreations  are  riding  and  driving,  and  she 
has  strong  literary  tastes.  She  begins  the  day  with 
Danish  calisthenics,  including  a  vigorous  use  of  the 
skipping-rope.  Then  she  has  a  canter  on  Hampstead 
Heath.  Her  accompanist  next  attends  her  and  she 
tries  over  new  and  old  songs  in  her  repertoire  of  four 
or  five  hundred. 

JOHN   M'CORMACK 

To  the  National  Irish  Festival  of  1903  belongs  the 
honour  of  finding  Mr.  John  M'Cormack,  one  of  the 
foremost  lyric  tenors  of  the  day.  For  Mr.  M'Cormack 
is  an  Irishman,  born  at  Athlone  in  1884.  He  had 
hopes  of  entering  the  Civil  Service,  and  never  thought 
of  music  as  a  profession  until  he  won  the  gold  medal 
in  a  tenor-singing  competition  at  the  above-mentioned 
festival.  During  the  same  year  he  made  his  ddbut  as 
a  public  singer  in  Dublin,  and  obtained  a  post  there  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral. 

154 


VARIOUS    VOCALISTS 

Next  year  he  went  to  America,  and  sang  at  the  St. 
Louis  Exhibition.  Later,  he  was  in  Milan  for  study,and 
made  such  progress  that,  within  a  few  months,  he  ap- 
peared in  Mascagni's  "L'Amico  Fritz."  We  read  that, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  unheralded  and  unknown, 
he  came  to  London  in  search  of  an  engagement,  which 
at  first  was  hard  to  find.  At  last  he  was  given  a  trial 
at  a  ballad  concert,  where  the  audience  were  not  slow 
in  recognising  what  has  been  characterised  as  "the 
most  remarkable  native  voice  which  has  been  heard  in 
London  within  recent  years."  Other  concert  engage- 
ments rapidly  followed ;  and  in  the  autumn  of  that 
same  year  (1907)  he  made  a  triumphant  entry  at  Cov- 
entGarden  as  Turridu  in  "CavalleriaRusticana."  The 
London  Irish  turned  up  in  great  force  to  greet  their 
countryman ;  and  it  is  said  that  their  cries  of  applause, 
in  the  native  Erse,  greatly  puzzled  the  Italian  occup- 
ants of  the  gallery. 

During  the  same  season  Mr.  M'Cormack  appeared 
five  times  in  "Cavalleria,"  twice  in  "Don  Giovanni," 
and  twice  in  uRigoletto.v  He  sang  the  Duke's  part 
in  the  last  named  on  the  memorable  night  of  Tetraz- 
zini's  debut,  and,  at  the  end  of  the  great  duet  in  the 
second  act,Tetrazzini  surprised  everybody  by  turning 
round  and  shaking  her  colleague's  hand.  Since  then 
he  has  been  steadily  adding  to  his  laurels,  not  only  in 
opera  but  in  concert,  and  has  been  on  an  operatic  tour 
with  Melba  in  Australia.  It  is  pleasing  to  add  that 
155 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

he  does  not  disdain  to  sing  such  simple  ballads  of  his 
country  as  "The  Minstrel  Boy"  and  "Come  back  to 

Erin." 

AGNES   NICHOLLS 

Miss  Agnes  Nicholls  deserves  a  place  here  if  only 
because  she  has  done  much  notable  festival  work, 
especially  in  Sir  Edward  Elgar's  oratorios.  Born  at 
Cheltenham  in  1877,  she  gained  a  scholarship  at  the 
R.C.M.  in  1894,  and  made  her  first  appearance  before 
Queen  Victoria  at  Windsor  Castle.  In  1897,  while  still 
a  student,  she  sang  at  the  Gloucester  Festival,  and 
ever  since  she  has  been  a  favourite  at  all  the  festivals 
as  well  as  at  the  principal  London  and  provincial  con- 
certs. She  was  specially  engaged  for  the  Cincinnati 
Festival  of  1904,  and  has  for  many  seasons  been  a 
leading  memberof  the  Royal  Opera  Company  at  Covent 

Garden. 

EDNA  THORNTON 

Lastly  (for  one  must  stop  somewhere !)  there  is  Miss 
Edna  Thornton,  the  distinguished  contralto ;  equally 
well  known  in  opera  and  in  concert  work.  She  comes 
of  a  musical  family,  and  was  born  in  Bradford.  She 
studied  first  at  the  R.C.M.  in  Manchester,  and  after- 
wards, privately,  with  Sir  Charles  Santley.  Her  first 
public  appearance  was  at  a  Queen's  Hall  Ballad  Con- 
cert, and  was  followed  in  the  same  week  by  a  dtbut  in 
oratorio  ("Elijah")  at  the  Albert  Hall.  Since  then  she 

has  done  much  successful  festival  and  concert  work, 

156 


VARIOUS    VOCALISTS 

and  has  toured  with  Patti.  Her  first  "hit"  on  the  oper- 
atic stage  was  made  at  Daly's  Theatre  in  Franco 
Leoni's  "Ib  and  Little  Christina";  in  1905  she  sang 
at  Covent  Garden  as  one  of  the  Cloud  Maidens  in  "Die 
Walkiire/'and  has  made  regularappearances  ingrand 
opera  ever  since,  notably  as  the  blind  mother  in  "La 
Gioconda,"  the  Countess  in  "  Andrea  Chenier,"  and 
the  Fortune-teller  in  "Un  Ballo  in  Maschera,"  where 
her  singing  of  the  weird  invocation  is  one  of  the  most 
impressive  things  she  has  done.  But  especially  has 
she  proved  herself  an  indispensable  exponent  of  the 
contralto  parts  in  "The  Ring,"  and  on  one  occasion  in 
1908  she  performed  the  remarkable  feat  of  singing  the 
three  rdles  of  Siegrune,  First  Norn,  and  Waltraute  on 
the  same  evening. 


VIOLINISTS    SP    'CELLISTS 


CHAPTER    XXVI.  YSAYE 

THE  PRONUNCIATION  OF  THE  NAME  AL- 
ways  gives  trouble  to  those  who  do  not  really  know. 
As  a  fact,  it  is  the  good  old  name  Isaiah.  This  the 
French  spell  "Isa'ie."  Substitute  "y's"  for  the  "i's," 
and  you  have  it.  In  Brussels,  where  the  distinguished 
violinist  has  his  home,  the  name  is  pronounced  "Ee- 
saw-ee,"  with  the  accent  on  first  and  third  syllables. 

Ysaye  is  the  greatest  Belgian  violinist  of  to-day.  He 
possesses  thatmagnetism  which  charms  alike  the  mus- 
ician and  the  amateur,  because  of  his  perfect  music- 
al expression.  He  has  the  "inexpressible  something" 
that  takes  cold  judgment  offits  feet  and  leads  criticism 
captive.  There  are  greater  technicians  perhaps,  but 
no  greater  interpreter  of  certain  works,  such  as  the 
Beethoven  Concerto. 

Ysaye  is  a  Belgian  $ursang.  He  says  that  for  four 
generations  at  least,  no  admixture  of  foreign  blood  can 
be  traced  on  either  side  of  his  pedigree.  His  ancestry 
is,  however,  not  Flemish  but  Walloon — that  is  to  say, 
Celtic — which  is  significant  of  much.  He  was  born  in 
1858  at  Lie'ge,  where  his  father  was  conductor  of  a 
theatre  band.  Afterwards,  the  father  was  appointed 
conductor  of  the  opera  at  Verviers,  and  Eugene,  at  the 
age  of  six  was  allowed  one  day,  as  a  great  privilege,  to 
sit  in  the  orchestra  to  see  the  opera.  It  was  noticed 
that  he  paid  no  heed  to  the  stage,  his  attention  being 
absorbed  in  the  violinists,  whose  attitudes  he  uncon- 
sciously imitated.  So  it  was  decided  that  he  should 
161  L 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

begin  to  learn  the  violin,  and  his  father  undertook  the 
task  of  teaching  him.  In  1866  he  went  to  theLie'ge 
Conservatoire,  and  ayear  later  secured  a  second  prize. 
But  in  1868  the  professors  warned  him  that  he  never 
would  be  a  violinist.  The  same  had  been  predicted  of 
Joachim!  The  rebuff  he  thus  encountered  only  nerved 
Ysaye  to  greater  effort,  and  in  1 862  he  re-entered  the 
conservatoire  and  stayed  there  till  1875,  with  the  most 
brilliant  success. 

In  1875  ne  made  his  first  appearance  in  Brussels, 
and  about  the  same  time  he  heard  Vieuxtemps  play — 
the  first  really  great  artist  he  had  ever  heard.  When 
Vieuxtemps  died,  and  his  remains  were  brought  to 
Verviers,  his  birthplace,  Ysaye  carried  in  the  proces- 
sion the  violin  and  bow  of  the  virtuoso  on  a  black 
velvet  cushion  fringed  with  silver. 

Shortly  after  hearing  Vieuxtemps,  Ysaye  had  les- 
sons from  Wieniawski,  travelling  from  Lie'ge  weekly 
for  the  purpose.  In  1 879  a  subsidy  of  £96  a  year  was 
obtained  for  him,  and  he  went  to  Paris  to  be  placed 
under  Vieuxtemps,  with  whom  he  lived  "as  one  of 
the  family."  In  1879  he  returned  to  Liege,  obtaining 
occasional  engagements,  among  which  was  one  at 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  this  led  to  his  adventurous  first 
tours.  One  of  the  artists  there  was  Pauline  Lucca 
through  whom  he  had  obtained  the  engagement. 
Having  been  paid,  he  did  not  return  home  but  stayed 

till  his  available  funds  were  reduced  to  a  few  pence, 

162 


YSAYE 

and  was  on  the  point  of  asking  his  father  for  money 
to  pay  his  fare  back  when  he  was  requested  to  play  at 
a  soiree.  For  this  he  received  100  marks.  Thence  he 
went  to  Cologne,  where  his  adventures  were  similar, 
and  twice  nearly  came  to  the  same  end.  It  was  then 
that  Ferdinand  Hiller  gave  him  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion by  means  of  which  he  was  able  to  travel  over  a 
great  part  of  Southern  Germany.  Having  left  home 
ostensibly  for  one  day,  he  returned  only  after  several 
months.  He  had  roughed  it  and  no  mistake!  "At 
your  age,"  he  used  to  say  to  his  young  pupils, "  I  pract- 
ised in  a  garret,  and  went  out  only  when  too  hungry 
to  go  on  playing."  Now  he  prizes  every  franc  he  earns. 
When  told  he  is  avaricious,  he  laughs,  and  says  "I 
have  wanted  more  than  I  shall  ever  make." 

The  next  stage  in  Ysaye's  career  was  an  engagement 
as  assistant  conductor  and  soloist  with  Bilse  in  Berlin, 
during  which  time  he  acquired  an  enormous  repert- 
oire, playing  solos  regularly  several  times  every  week. 
When  he  gave  up  the  position,  in  spite  of  offers  of 
largely  increased  pay,  and  in  reliance  on  promises  from 
agents,  he  found  himself  reduced  to  almost  the  same 
circumstances  that  marked  his  first  flight  from  home. 
But  from  that  time  onwards  work  and  reputation  be- 
gan to  come.  He  went  in  1881  to  Norway  with  Rubin- 
stein and  Alexander  Bull,  giving  concerts  for  the  erec- 
tion of  a  memorial  to  Ole  Bull  (Alexander's  father). 
Later  on  he  was  at  the  meeting  of  the  Allgemeine 
163 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Deutsche  Musikverein  at  Zurich,  with  Liszt,  Saint- 
Saens,  Mme.  Sophie  Menter,  and  Mme.  Essipoff,  and 
in  1883  he  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  Paris  at  a 
Colonne  concert,  and  then  took  up  his  abode  in  the 
French  Capital.  Itwas  there  that  he  became  an  ardent 
devotee  of  the  new  French  school,  and  the  friend  and 
apostle  of  Ce'sar  Franck,  of  D'Indy,  and  the  rest. 

Ysaye  is  a  man  of  large  and  powerful  physique,  of 
boundless  physical  endurance,  and  is  never  happier 
than  when  he  has  a  morning  rehearsal  after  a  night 
journey,  followed  by  a  concert  and  another  night  in 
the  train  or  on  the  sea.  It  is  curious,  when  one  sees 
great  musicians  on  the  platform,  how  one  thinks  of 
them  as  living  in  a  world  principally  made  up  of  con- 
cert halls,  railway  trains,  and  hotels,  with  more  or  less 
of  a  suggestion  of  intrigue  in  the  background.  One 
would  never  dream,  for  instance,  that  during  a  part  of 
the  year  the  absorbing  interest  of  Ysaye's  life  is  fish- 
ing, and  that  the  pupils  who  follow  him  to  the  country 
need  hope  for  no  lessons  if  it  is  a  good  day  for  rod  and 
river. 

Ysaye  is  a  fine-looking  man,  with  a  clean-shaven 
face,  intellectual  features,  and  long,  silky  white  hair, 
brushed  off  a  high  forehead.  He  has  a  distinctly  strik- 
ing personality.  His  hands  are  abnormally  large  and 
powerful;  and  about  thewhole  man  there  is  something 
of  invincible  determination.  He  loves  Bach  and  Beeth- 
oven before  all  else.  One  of  his  theories  is  that  no 

164 


YSAYE 

man  should  play  the  Beethoven  Violin  Concerto  be- 
fore he  is  thirty;  and  he  acted  up  to  this  himself,  for 
he  played  it  in  public  for  the  first  time  when  he  made 
his  London  cUbut  in  his  thirty-second  year. 

Of  his  many  experiences,  he  says  one  of  the  most 
delightful  and  valuable  was  a  week  he  once  spent  with 
Rubinstein  at  his  home  in  Russia.  It  was  Easter  week, 
and  having  nothing  else  to  do  between  two  tourn&s, 
they  played  all  day  long,  and  worked  through  nearly 
all  the  violin  sonatas  ever  written.  The  adventures  of 
a  violinist  always  include  some  romance  connected 
with  his  violins,  and  surely  no  great  violinist  ever  ac- 
quired an  instrument  in  a  stranger  way  than  M.  Ysaye. 
On  one  of  his  tours  he  found  himself  in  Hamburg,  and 
heard  of  a  Guadagnini  to  be  had  for  ,£800.  He  tried 
it,  and  found  that  he  could  not  live  without  it.  He 
offered  as  security  a  charge  on  the  fees  he  expected 
to  receive  but  the  vendor  insisted  on  cash.  There  was 
no  time  to  procure  money,  as  he  had  to  start  the  next 
day.  He  was  in  despair,  and  was  telling  his  woes  to 
some  friends  in  a  restaurant  after  dinner,  when  M. 
Levita,  an  acquaintance  from  Paris,  joined  the  party. 
He  was  an  ardent  music-lover,  and  also  a  jeweller,  and 
he  had  with  him  a  considerable  number  of  precious 
stones.  These  he  lent  to  M.  Ysaye,  who  was  thus  able 
to  buy  the  instrument,  which  is  still  his  favourite.  He 
has  also  a  Guarnerius,  which  formerly  belonged  to  a 
lady  who  was  his  pupil  and  is  now  his  sister-in-law. 
I65 


CHAPTER   XXVII.  KUBELIK 

INJULYi88oAPOORGARDENER,LIVINGAT 
Michle,  near  Prague,  had  a  son  born  to  him.  He  and 
his  good  wife  had  one  already,  and  wondered  how  they 
would  be  able  to  provide  for  a  second.  The  gardener 
was  the  best  musician  in  the  village,  and  always  gave 
his  evenings  andhis  Sundays  to  music.  He  couldplay, 
after  a  fashion,  on  almost  any  instrument,  and  was  the 
organiser  and  trainer  of  the  village  band.  When  his 
elder  son  was  seven,  the  gardener  gave  him  a  little 
violin  and  began  to  teach  him  music.  The  younger 
boy,  who  was  five,  clamoured  and  entreated  to  be 
taught  as  well.  The  father  refused,  saying  that  seven 
was  a  proper  age  to  begin  and  five  was  too  young. 
This  went  on  for  some  time,  the  child  continuing  to 
plead  persistently.  When  the  father  saw  that  the  boy 
was  really  pining  he  gave  in  and  began  to  teach  him. 
In  three  months  he  had  outdistanced  his  brother, 
and  in  six  months  he  knew  more  than  his  father. 
People  came  miles  to  hear  him,  and  the  little  child 
was  almost  worshipped.  The  father  received  so  many 
offers  to  exhibit  him  that  it  was  quite  evident  there 
was  a  fortune  in  the  boy.  Managers  were  only  too 
anxious  to  pave  their  modest  cottage  with  gold.  Here 
the  beautiful  part  of  the  story  comes  in.  The  gardener 
was  very,  very  poor,  but  he  was  also  a  wise  man  and 
a  good  one.  He  knew  that  if  he  made  himself  rich 
by  exploiting  little  Kubelik  as  an  infant  phenomenon, 
the  child's  future  would  be  ruined.  So  he  refused  all 

166 


KUBELIK 

offers,  and,  setting  stoically  to  work,  he  toiled  and 
slaved  as  never  before  to  amass,  penny  by  penny,  the 
money  for  his  son's  education. 

The  boys  went  to  the  village  school  and  worked 
with  their  violins  until  little  Jan  was  twelve.  Then  the 
father  took  Jan  to  the  conservatoire  at  Prague,  where 
he  was  placed  under  the  famous  Maestro  Sevcik,  who 
was  devoted  to  him  from  the  first. 

For  six  long  years  Kubelik  worked  hard  at  his 
violin,  while  his  father  made  all  manner  of  sacrifices 
to  send  him  the  money  to  live  on.  When  his  studies 
were  over,  on  the  day  of  the  final  examination,  his 
playing  created  a  furore.  The  audience  was  in  an 
uproar;  all  the  professors  embraced  him  in  turn;  and 
the  president  wept  with  pride  as  he  gave  him  his 
blessing.  Alas !  here  comes  the  sad  part  of  the  story. 
Just  when  the  boy's  triumphs  were  beginning,  the 
father  died.  It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  Kubelik.  When 
he  was  time  after  time  recalled  to  deafening  applause, 
when  women  waved  handkerchiefs  and  men  silk  hats, 
when  the  gallery  cheered  and  people  called  his  name 
over  and  over  again,  Kubelik's  one  thought  was  that 
his  father  had  really  earned  all  that  applause,  and  that 
he  ought  to  be  there  to  enjoy  it.  He  said  about  that 
time  that  he  always  played  best  when  he  imagined  he 
saw  his  father  in  the  audience. 

Needless  to  observe,  Kubelik  has  toured  over  the 

whole  civilised  world  several  times.  He  appeared  first 
167 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

in  London  at  a  Richter  concert  in  June  1900.  In  1902 
he  made  his  first  tour  in  the  United  States,  when, 
from  sixty  concerts,  he  netted  the  magnificent  total  of 
£23,000.  A  second  tour  realised  .£50,000;  and  that, 
with  other  earnings,  enabled  him  later  to  buy  Prince 
Hohenlohe's  ancestral  estates  in  Silesia  for  £160,000. 
Not  bad  for  the  poor  market-gardener's  son ! 

In  1903  he  married  the  Countess  Marianne  Csaky- 
Szell,  a  beautiful  girl  to  whom  he  had  lost  his  heart 
on  his  first  appearance  at  Debreczin  in  1900.  Mme. 
Kubelik  is  about  the  same  age  as  her  husband.  When 
eighteen  she  married  a  Hungarian  count,  but  secur- 
ed a  divorce  after  a  few  weeks.  She  is  very  super- 
stitious. Once  when  her  husband  was  playing  in 
Edinburgh,  she  was  assigned  a  hotel  bedroom  num- 
bered thirteen.  She  would  not  have  it  on  any  account. 
She  was  shown  into  a  second,  and  that  looked  out  on 
a  graveyard,  and  she  fled  to  another  hotel  at  once. 
In  1904  twins  (girls)  were  born  to  the  pair,  which  led 
a  joker  to  remark  that  Kubelik  is  used  to  crowded 
houses! 

Kubelik  is  not  only  a  musical  genius;  he  has  a  fine 
mind,  and,  what  is  more  curious,  he  is  a  man  of  the 
world.  He  is  a  phenomenon  in  more  ways  than  one. 
In  boyhood  he  spoke  only  Bohemian.  When  he  began 
to  travel,  he  learnt  German  with  unusual  rapidity, 
picked  up  French,  and  later  learnt  English.  When  it 

is  appropriate  that  he  should,  he  spends  money  freely, 

168 


KUBELIK 

but  never  throws  it  out  of  the  window.  His  idea  of 
wealth  is  to  do  good  things  for  people.  In  eating  and 
drinking  his  tastes  are  temperate  and  refined.  He 
takes  scarcely  any  butcher's  meat  or  wine,  but  enjoys 
a  cigar  after  each  performance.  For  three  hours  be- 
fore playing  he  takes  no  food.  Ten  years  ago  he  was 
reported  as  practising  four  or  five  hours  daily.  At 
a  concert  which  he  gave  in  Prague  in  1906  his  old 
neighbours  rallied  in  hundreds  and  gossiped  about 
his  early  days.  "His  practising  drove  me  crazy," 
said  a  washerwoman  who  lived  next  door  to  him. 
Others  spoke  of  the  way  he  played  in  village  inns, 
tramping  the  country,  and  receiving  coppers  from  the 
peasants. 

When  I  first  saw  Kubelik  some  thirteen  years  ago 
he  impressed  me  as  a  sort  of  young  Liszt  in  appear- 
ance. I  found  him  of  medium  height,  youthfully  slend- 
er, well-made,  and  primly  graceful.  His  thick,  glossy, 
dark  hair  is  brushed  back  and  worn  rather  long  &  la 
Liszt,  and  his  very  pleasing,  smooth  young  face  is  like 
a  composite  photograph  of  Beethoven,  Liszt,  and  Mo- 
zart. His  hands,  supple  and  graceful,  are  said  to  be 
likePaganini's.  Naturally,  he  takes  precious  good  care 
of  them.  Once  when  he  landed  in  New  York  he  wore 
a  muffin  which  to  keep  them  warm.  In  manner  he  is 
calm  and  dignified;  quite  devoid  of  undue  pride  or 
self-consciousness,  and  too  well  poised  to  be  easily 

disturbed. 
169 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Kubelik  plays  on  the  so-called  "Emperor"  Strad. 
It  cost  him  £6000,  and  he  is  said  to  have  refused 
;£iO,ooo  for  it.  The  tone  is  magnificent.  The  eminent 
violinist  says  he  loves  all  his  pieces  equally  well,  and 
he  plays  nothing  towards  which  he  does  not  feel  devo- 
tion. In  private  life  he  is  partial  to  great  works  like 
Bach's  Chaconne  and  Beethoven's  Concerto,  because 
there  is  always  something  new  to  be  found  in  them. 
He  finds  that  showpieces  are  easier  to  play  than  many 
less  complex  works, in  which  the  interpretation  is  hard 
tograspand  to  express.  Paganini,he  asserts, is  merely 
for  the  fingers :  he  makes  no  demand  on  the  soul.  He 
says: 

"Handel's  'Largo'  is  simple  as  regards  the  notes, 
but  is  deep,  big,  and  universal, and  taxes  the  resources 
of  the  greatest  violinists.  It  is  a  pity  that  pieces  of 
simple  construction  like  Schumann's  Traumerei  and 
Raff's  Cavatina  are  avoided  by  the  great  players  be- 
cause they  have  been  mishandled  by  students  and 
amateurs,  who  put  into  them  ideas  that  are  foreign  to 
the  music.  Had  Beethoven  lived  twenty-five  or  thirty 
years  longer,  and  progressed  in  the  direction  of  his 
last  compositions,  he  would  have  effected  radical 
changes  in  music,  abolished  many  old  forms  and 
established  some  new  and  free  form." 

Modern  composers  do  not  write  appropriate  music 
for  the  violin,  as  it  requires  consonance,  and  they  de- 
light mainly  in  dissonance.  The  old  standard  works 

for  violin  will  remain  as  classics,  but  the  compositions 

I/O 


KUBELIK 

written  for  purely  virtuoso  purposes  must  die  inevit- 
ably, and  more  or  less  soon. 

Kubelik  regards  the  violin  as  the  chief  expounder  of 
tonal  beauty,  and  he  is  firm  in  the  opinion  that  in  play- 
ing it  the  performer's  real  aim  should  be  to  strive  al- 
ways for  beauty,  and  to  put  himself,  his  heart,  mind, 
and  fingers  wholly  at  the  service  of  such  an  endeavour. 
"  Become  a  part  of  the  violin  and  make  it  sound  beauti- 
ful, is  always  the  maxim  which  I  preach  to  young 
players  wherever  I  go." 


XXVIII.  FRANZ  VON  VECSEY 
THE  NAME,  LIKE  YSAYE'S,  IS  TROUBLE- 
some,  but  you  are  to  pronounce  it  "  Vaiy-chi-ee."  In 
February  1904  there  appeared  in  The  Strad,  a 
monthly  devoted  to  violin  matters,  a  portrait  of  a  small 
boy,  clad  in  a  sailor  suit,  and  holding  a  full-sized  viol- 
in. A  few  months  later  all  London  was  talking  of  the 
original  of  this  portrait,  little  Franz  von  Vecsey ;  and 
there  must  still  be  some  who  remember  the  tiny  fig- 
ure, with  a  grave  face,  standing  on  a  raised  platform  in 
old  St.  James'  Hall,  executing  the  most  difficult  works 
with  the  greatest  ease,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  pre- 
sent. 

Franz  von  Vecsey  was  born  with  the  silver  spoon 
in  his  mouth.  No  struggle  he  with  poverty.  His  people 
were  wealthy — members  of  the  old  Hungarian  nobility 
— and  there  was  no  more  reason  why  he  should  take 
to  music  for  a  "living"  than  there  was  for  Mendels- 
sohn or  Meyerbeer  doing  the  same  thing.  Meyerbeer's 
forbears  were  immensely  wealthy,  and  Frau  Meyer- 
beer was  annoyed  at  her  son  receiving  money  for  his 
compositions.  "  My  son,"  she  said,  "  is  a  composer — 
but  not  of  necessity."  Neither  was  Mendelssohn  a 
composer  "of  necessity."  Von  Vecsey  might  have 
takenhiseaseas  an  independentgentleman;  but  music, 
like  murder,  will  "out,"  and  he  had  to  be  a  violinist. 

It  has  been  stated  that  Kubelik  was  refused  at  the 
Prague  Conservatoire.  Similarly,  Von  Vecsey  (like 

Marie  Hall)  was  at  first  refused  by  Joachim,  who  had 

172 


FRANZ    VON    VECSEY 

an  antipathy  to  juvenile  prodigies.  But  when  he  heard 
the  boy  play,  he  went  into  ecstasies.  His  verdict  was: 
"  I  am  seventy-two  years  of  age,  yet  never  in  my  life 
have  I  heard  the  like,  and  never  believed  it  possible." 
And  in  the  boy's  album  he  wrote :  "God  guard  thee, 
thou  wonderfully  gifted  child!"  After  his  first  con- 
cert, he  went  up  and  gave  the  boy  a  hug  before  all 
the  people. 

Meanwhile,  reports  of  Vecsey's  wonderful  gifts  had 
been  spreading,  and  engagements  poured  in  upon 
him.  His  cttbut  was  made  in  Berlin,  and  afterwards 
he  played  to  enormous  audiences  at  St.  Petersburg 
and  Budapesth.  Then,  in  1904,  as  has  been  indicated, 
he  came  to  London.  And  what  a  furore  he  created, 
this  child  of  eleven!  Queen  Alexandra  made  his  ac- 
quaintance, and,  as  she  reminded  him  five  years  later, 
he  then  called  her  "Tante  Konigen,"  while  she  called 
him  "Du" — a  German  pronominal  form  reserved  for 
personal  friends — which,  added  Her  Majesty,  "I  am 
going  to  keep  on  calling  you  if  you  will  let  me." 
The  connection  between  the  two  is  interesting,  for  the 
Queen  Mother  approves  of  Vecsey's  appreciation  of 
Strauss'  advanced  music.  "I,  too,  like  the  progress 
of  the  moderns  in  music,"  she  said  to  him. 

When  Vecsey  was  in  London  in  1904,  the  eleven- 
year-old,  there  was  a  lot  of  gossip  about  him.  It  was 
told  that  he  had  a  healthy  appetite;  that  he  was  full 
of  fun,  and  always  ready  for  a  game.  One  day  at  the 
173 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

hotel  he  went  round  the  corridor  in  which  his  bedroom 
was  placed,  and  carefully  mixed  up  the  boots  placed 
outside  the  doors,  putting  ladies'  boots  where  gentle- 
men's boots  were.  He  was  full  of  pranks.  Hyde  Park 
was  his  favourite  resort,  and  after  a  concert  he  would 
run  off  there  and  trundle  a  hoop.  At  that  time  it  was 
reported  that  he  never  travelled  by  night  unless  it  was 
absolutely  necessary,  and  never  played  on  the  day 
after  a  journey.  He  never  played  more  than  three 
times  a  week,  and  seldom  more  than  twice. 

But  that  is  a  good  long  time  ago,  as  the  world 
moves  now.  Since  then,  Von  Vecsey  has  played  in 
every  capital  in  Europe,  even  in  the  Orient.  At  Stock- 
holm once,  the  crowd  detached  the  horses  from  his 
carriage  and  dragged  it  back  to  his  hotel,  and  Stock- 
holm is  not  usually  demonstrative.  Royalties  besides 
Queen  Alexandra  have  greatly  honoured  him.  He 
can  show  you  a  magnificent  gold  watch,  the  gift  of  the 
Czar;  a  set  of  studs  from  King  Edward;  a  pin  from 
Queen  Ena  of  Spain;  and  other  notable  souvenirs. 

Von  Vecsey  is  devoted  to  his  work,  but  limits  his 
daily  practice  to  under  five  hours.  He  leads  an  easy 
life  because  playing  comes  naturally  to  him.  He  opens 
a  new  piece,  reads  it  through  once,  and  then  can  play 
it  by  heart.  He  has  never  known  what  it  is  to  be 
nervous.  He  has  composed  some  music,  but  says  it 
is  so  difficult  that  he  does  not  think  he  could  play  it 
himself!  One  of  his  ambitions  is  to  be  a  conductor. 

174 


FRANZ    VON    VECSEY 

"  I  do  not  suppose  I  can  go  on  playing  for  many  years: 
the  incessant  travelling  is  so  tiring;  and  so  I  would 
like  to  conduct."  In  the  matter  of  hobbies  he  ranks 
photography  first.  Also,  strangely  enough,  he  likes 
writing  letters.  Chopin  said  he  would  rather  walk 
three  miles  to  answer  a  letter  in  person  than  send  the 
answer  by  post. 

Von  Vecsey  began  by  playing  on  an  Amati  violin ; 

later  he  acquired  the  Guarnerius  on  which  Kubelik 

played  for  some  time.   Then  he  bought  a  Stradivar- 

ius,  and  he  likes  that  better  than  any  of  its 

predecessors. 


CHAPTER    XXIX.     MARIE   HALL 

SOFT  as  the  rain  that  falls  on  April  night, 

Light  as  the  falling  petals  of  a  flower, 
Dim  as  a  misty  landscape  seen  at  night, 

Low  as  the  murmuring  waves  at  twilight  hour, 

Your  music  held  me  with  its  strangely  subtle  power. 
It  rose  and  fell  in  lingering  melody, 

It  held  the  speechless  yearning  of  a  soul, 
Struggling  for  freedom — some  great  threnody 

Woven  in  song,  poured  forth,  a  perfect  whole 
From  those  impassioned  strings  in  mystic  harmony. 

THUS  A  RHYMSTER  IN  A  MONTREAL  PAP- 
er  in  1906.  In  England  there  was  long  a  deep-rooted 
prejudice  against  lady  violinists.  It  continued  far  into 
the  nineteenth  century.  A  musical  journal  of  1819 
wrote:  "We  are  tempted  to  ask  whyshould  not  thepre- 
judice  against  ladies  playing  the  violin  be  overcome? 
It  seems  to  us  to  be  an  instrument  peculiarly  adapted 
to  their  industry,  delicacy,  and  precision;  while  what 
we  have  seen  and  heard  of  female  violin-playing  fully 
bears  out  the  recommendation  we  feel  disposed  to  give 
to  its  adoption." 

The  Spectator  in  1860  said:  "Female  violinists 
are  rare,  the  violin  being,  we  do  not  know  why,  deem- 
ed an  unfeminine  instrument."  In  1869  The  Athe- 
nceum,  noticing  the  performance  of  some  lady  violin- 
ists, said:  "The  fair  sex  are  gradually  encroaching  on 
all  man's  privileges!"  Man's  privileges!  What  would 
that  critic  say  now?  Violin-playing  by  ladies  made 
slow  progress  in  England,  even  after  the  wonderful 

achievements  of  Mme.Neruda  (later  Lady  Hall6)  gave 

176 


MARIE  H.    , 


MARIE    HALL 

it  such  a  splendid  impetus.  For  instance,  the  first  lady 
student  of  the  instrument  entered  at  the  R.A.M.  in 
1872.  Now  the  lady  violinists  at  the  Academy  must 
be  nearly  a  hundred. 

And  why  not?  Sevcik,  the  famous  violin  teacher, 
was  asked  recently  whether  in  his  experience  men 
or  women  made  the  best  pupils.  And  this  was  his 
answer: 

"Girls  don't  drink  too  much  or  smoke  inordinately, 
therefore  they  keep  their  bodies  in  better  condition. 
Besides,  look  what  patience  women  have  compared  to 
men!  Perhaps  at  first  a  woman  does  not  put  as  much 
expression  and  feeling  into  her  playing  as  a  man,  but 
wait  till  she  falls  in  love!  Then  the  soul  comes.  How- 
ever, some  remain  as  cold  as  ice  for  ever.  Men,  too, 
have  often  no  idea  of  feeling,  and  imagine  that  if  they 
put  on  a  tremolo  that  they  have  done  all  that  is  necess- 
ary. Kubelik  lacked  expression  at  first,  but  it  came  to 
him  as  he  grew  older." 

It  may  be  added  that  some  leading  lady  singers, 
notably  Christine  Nilsson  and  Marcella  Sembrich, 
have  been  good  fiddlers. 

Among  living  lady  violinists,  Marie  Hall  takes  the 
first  place.  Her  history  has  been  quite  romantic.  She 
said  once:  "I  am  really  sick  to  death  of  all  that  has 
been  written  about  my  youth  and  its  vicissitudes." 
But  the  way  in  which  she  triumphed  over  these  vicis- 
situdes is  entirely  honourable,  and  ought  to  be  re- 
corded for  the  encouragement  of  others. 
177  M 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

Born  at  Newcastle-on-Tyne  in  1884,  she  received 
her  first  lessons  from  her  father,  a  harpist  in  the  or- 
chestra of  the  Carl  Rosa  Company.  When  she  was 
ten  she  had  a  year's  tuition  from  Sir  Edward  Elgar — 
a  very  interesting  connection,  surely !  Subsequently 
she  studied  for  three  years  with  Max  Mossel  at  Birm- 
ingham, making  several  appearances  meanwhile  as 
an  infant  prodigy.  The  struggle  was  severe  at  this 
time  owing  to  her  father's  lack  of  means;  and  she  was 
reduced  to  playing  ephemeral  music  in  saloons  and 
sometimes  on  the  pavement's  edge. 

In  1899  she  gained  one  of  the  recently-instituted 
Wessely  Exhibitions  at  the  R.A.M.,  but  was  unable, 
through  poverty,  to  take  it  up.  The  story  goes  that  a 
little  later  a  clergyman,  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  music, 
found  her  in  a  half-starved  condition  playing  for  cop- 
pers in  the  streets  of  Bristol.  Recognising  a  talent 
beyond  the  ordinary,  he  took  her  to  London,  and  with 
the  assistance  of  some  friends — among  them  the  late 
Mr.  Hill  of  Bond  Street — placed  her  in  a  position  to 
continue  her  studies  with  Professor  Johann  Kruse. 
After  she  had  made  steady  progress  with  him  for  a 
year  and  more,  her  friends  again  came  forward,  and 
sent  her,  armed  with  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
Kubelik,  to  Professor  Sevcik  at  Prague.  The  rule  at 
the  Prague  Conservatoire  is  that  every  pupil  who  en- 
ters must  take  the  entire  six  years'  course  before  leav- 
ing ;  but  Anton  Dvorak,  at  that  time  chief  director  of 

178 


MARIE    HALL 

studies,  was  so  impressed  with  her  playing  that  for 
the  first  and  last  time  he  allowed  the  regulation  to  be 
broken,  and  the  first  five  years  to  be  taken  as  fiddled. 
Hard  work  is  the  initial  demand  that  Sevcik  makes  on 
his  pupils,  and  it  was  a  demand  which  Marie  Hall  was 
fully  prepared  to  meet.  During  her  year  at  the  con- 
servatoire, and  her  extra  five  months  of  private  study 
with  him,  she  practised  eight  hours  a  day  at  least, 
and  oftener  ten. 

And  yet  Joachim  had  refused  her  because,  as  he 
alleged,  she  played  out  of  tune! 

Sevcik  was  so  delighted  withhispupilthathelenther 
his  own  Amati  violin  for  her  debut.  This  was  made  at 
Prague  in  1902.  The  lady's  success  was  enormous  and 
instantaneous.  When  she  appeared  in  London  in  1903 
she  created  a  great  sensation, and  since  then  her  brilli- 
ant career  has  proceeded  on  the  usual  virtuoso  lines. 

Marie  Hall  has  been  everywhere  in  the  course  of 
her  tours.  Her  account  of  the  Americans  is  very  com- 
plimentary, but  she  has  an  amusing  word  to  add  about 
the  New  Yorkers.  "The  1812  Overture  of  Tscha'i- 
kowsky  appeals  to  them,"  she  says.  "They  like  some- 
thing big,  with  plenty  of  sound.  It  seems  more  for 
their  money."  At  private  parties  in  the  States  she 
has  had  sometimes  to  shake  hands  with  500  people. 
In  Australia  she  was  literally  smothered  with  flowers. 
Harps  and  lyres,  shepherds'  crooks,  and  bouquets 

were  showered  on  her  after  her  concerts. 
179 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

An  interviewer  said  to  her  once:  "Will  you  tell  me 
the  most  extraordinary  experience  you  have  had?" 
And  this  was  her  reply: 

"I  think  the  one  that  appealed  to  me  most  was  a 
concert  I  gave  at  Suva,  the  capital  of  the  Fiji  Islands. 
Our  boat  put  in  there  for  a  few  days  to  take  in  some 
cargo,  and  a  concert  was  hastily  arranged.  There  are 
about  noo  white  people  there,  and  I  think  they  all 
went — in  fact,  it  was  a  sort  of  universal  holiday.  I 
went  to  the  only  draper's  shop  there  to  see  if  I  could 
geta  cotton  dress,as  minewere  packed  away,and  they 
explained  to  me  that  they  could  not  let  me  have  one 
that  day  as  they  were  all  going  to  a  concert,  and  ex- 
pressed much  astonishment  that  I  was  apparently  not 
going  too.  When  I  explained  that  I  was  going,  and 
wanted  a  dress  for  that  reason,  that  changed  matters 
entirely,  and  they  all  set  to  work  and  fitted  me  out  with 
something  which  answered  the  purpose.  Suva  does 
not  boast  a  concert  hall,  so  the  concert  was  held  in  a 
sort  of  large  tent,  and  the  heat  was  something  terrific; 
I  had  to  have  a  man  to  keep  an  electric  fan  moving 
right  over  my  hands,  or  I  could  not  have  played  at  all. 
The  piano  was  a  very  old  one  and  fearfully  out  of  tune, 
but  at  last  we  found  an  old  sailor  from  a  warship  who 
volunteered  to  tune  it.  He  was  very  deaf,  and  had  his 
own  ideas  about  tuning,  and  he  informed  mewithgreat 
pride  that  as  a  piano  always  sounded  more  brilliant  if 
the  upper  notes  were  a  little  sharp  he  had  tuned  up  the 
treble.  He  had  really  done  so,  with  the  result  that  for 
about  an  octave  and  a  half  in  the  treble  the  notes  as- 
cended in  varying  degrees  of  sharpness.  The  Gover- 

180 


MARIE    HALL 

nor  and  his  wife  were  to  be  present,  and  someone  was 
wanted  to  play  "God  Save  the  King"at  the  beginning, 
so  the  small  daughter  of  one  of  the  residents  was 
pressed  into  service.  She  not  only  played  "God  Save 
the  King,"  but  about  twenty  variations  as  well,  during 
which  the  audience  had  to  stand.  I  am  pleased  to  say 
the  concert  was  a  great  success,  and  we  wound  up  the 
festivities  by  a  dinner  at  the  Governor's  house.  I  also 
played  at  Honolulu,in  the  Hawaian  Islands,and  Miss 
Alice  Roosevelt,  or  rather  Mrs.  Longworth,  was  stay- 
ing there  with  her  husband,  and  very  kindly  came  to 
hear  me.  Another  concert  I  gave  was  at  Vancouver, 
but  as  we  were  only  to  be  there  for  a  few  hours  I  had 
to  go  straight  off  the  boat,  and  was  on  the  platform 
within  ten  minutes  of  our  landing.  When  I  got  back 
to  England — after  being  away  eight  months — I  was 
booked  to  play  at  a  concert  at  New  Brighton  the  day 
after  my  arrival,  and  had  to  be  up  early  the  morn- 
ing after  we  landed  to  attend  a  rehearsal  with  the 
orchestra." 

Marie  Hall,  like  all  other  artists  of  fine  expression, 
is  nervous  when  playing  in  public.  u  I  have  been  very 
nervous  on  many  occasions,"  she  said  a  year  or  two 
ago.  And  then  she  continued: 

"I  remember  when  Sevcik  sent  meto  play  in  Vienna 
while  I  was  still  at  Prague, how  miserable  I  felt.  It  was 
only  the  fact  that  I  felt  I  simply  must  do  my  best  to 
prove  my  appreciation  of  all  my  master's  trouble  that 
made  me  able  to  get  through  at  all.  Again  at  my  debut 
in  London  in  February  1903  I  felt  so  much  alone  and 
quite  wretched.  Mr.  Henry  J.  Wood  was  a  tower  of 
181 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

strength  and  so  kind  to  me,  and  all  through  that  even- 
ing I  felt  as  though  Sevcik  were  present  in  the  hall, 
and  I  forgot  all  about  my  fears  and  the  audience,  and 
just  played  to  him.  I  may  say  that  never  in  all  my 
careerhave  I  enjoyed  a  concert  as  much  as  that  (to  me) 
memorable  one.  The  only  remedy  I  know  for  nervous- 
ness is  to  be  able  to  concentrate  one's  attention  wholly 
on  the  music.  By  so  doing  all  thoughts  of  self  vanish, 
and  one  becomes  lost  to  everything  but  the  beauty  ol 
the  music." 

She  has  interesting  ideas  about  her  profession,  this 
fiddler  of  the  frail  physique.  She  thinks  nineteen  quite 
young  enough  for  a  violinist  to  "come  out."  She  says 
it  is  much  better  to  wait  until  one's  education  is  fin- 
ished, though  finished  is  merelya  convenient  term,  for 
"there  is  always  something  more  to  learn."  But  cert- 
ainly, she  adds,  "one  is  more  fitted  to  appear  before 
the  public  at  nineteen  than  at  twelve.  I  believe  in  gain- 
ing a  certain  amount  of  experience  before  playing  in 
London  or  any  other  big  town,  and  a  hint  that  may  be 
worth  having  is  to  try  always  to  play  before  the  con- 
cert in  the  hall  in  which  you  are  to  perform  so  that  you 
may  get  some  idea  of  its  acoustic  properties.  Another 
thing  I  should  like  to  say  is  that  violinists  should  not 
neglect  any  opportunity  of  hearing  the  best  music,  and 
not  only  other  violinists,  but  music  of  every  kind, 
pianists,  singers,  orchestral  and  chamber  music." 

She  says  that  violin-playing  of  the  virtuoso  sort  is 

hard  work,  but  she  does  not  find  it  trying,  because  she 

182 


MARIE    HALL 

loves  it  so  much.  She  enjoys  practising,  and  never 
allows  anything  to  interfere  with  it.  "I  have  pract- 
ised," she  says,  "in  the  train,  on  the  steamer,  and  in 
all  sorts  of  odd  places  when  travelling,  and  I  am  not 
happy  if  I  cannot  get  in  about  six  hours  a  day.  During 
my  spare  time  at  home  (when  I  have  any)  I  love  to  play 
chamber  music.andhavebeen  revelling  lately  in  quart- 
ets. I  think  every  violinist  ought  to  acquire  a  know- 
ledge of  chamber  music,  for,  besides  being  most  enjoy- 
able, it  affords  such  a  splendid  training." 

She  plays  on  the  famous  "  Viotti"  Stradivarius.  "It 
is  a  great  treasure,"  she  says,  "and  it  seems  so  won- 
derful to  think  that  is  over  200  years  old,  and  is  yet  as 
beautiful  as  ever."  In  191 1  Miss  Hall  was  married  to 
Mr.  Edward  Baring,  of  the  firm  of  concert-directors, 
Messrs.  Baring  Brothers,  of  Cheltenham.  Mr.  Baring 
had  been  her  business  manager. 


CHAP.  XXX.          MISCHA  ELMAN 

MISCHA  ELMAN  IS  NOW  TWENTY-TWO— 
only  twenty-two ! — having  been  born  in  1 892,  the  son 
of  a  Jewish  schoolmaster  in  Southern  Russia.  He  took 
to  the  fiddle  as  ducks  take  to  water,  and  when  he  was 
only  five  he  played  at  a  village  concert.  Somewhat 
later,  he  played  at  a  reception  at  a  Russian  prince's. 
"For  an  urchin  of  seven,"  he  says,  "I  flatter  myself  I 
rattled  off  Beethoven's  Kreutzer  Sonata  finely.  This 
sonata,  you  know,  has  in  it  several  long  and  impress- 
ive rests.  Well,  in  one  of  these  rests,  a  motherly  old 
lady  leant  forward,  patted  my  shoulder,  and  said, 
'Play  something  you  know,  dear.'" 

The  boy's  father  recognised  him  as  a  genius,  but 
unhappily  there  were  money  difficulties  about  having 
him  properly  trained.  It  is  averred  that  when  Mischa 
was  taken  by  the  parent  to  a  professor,  for  the  first 
time,  he  was  told  to  say  that  he  was  five  years  old  and 
had  been  learning  the  violin  for  three  months.  He  got 
confused,  and  said  that  he  was  three  months  old  and 
had  been  learning  the  violin  for  five  years! 

Somehow  the  money  difficulties  were  surmounted, 
and  Mischa  obtained  admission  to  the  Imperial  School 
of  Music  at  Odessa.  He  made  rapid  progress  there, 
and  attracted  the  notice  of  such  eminent  artists  as 
Sarasate,  Brodsky,  and  Auer.  Auer  especially  inter- 
ested himself  in  the  boy.  In  the  course  of  a  profes- 
sional tour  in  South  Russia  he  had  heard  him  play, 
and  was  so  struck  with  his  wonderful  talent  that  he 

w..--'  184 


Photograph  ly  Elliot  &•  Fry,  Ltd. 
MISCHA  KLMAN 


MISCHA    ELMAN 

agreed  to  take  him  as  a  pupil  if  he  could  obtain  the  per- 
mission of  the  Czar  for  Mischa  and  his  family  to  reside 
in  St.  Petersburg,  as  no  Jew  born  outside  the  city  was 
allowed  to  live  either  in  the  capital  or  in  Moscow. 

The  requisite  permission  was  obtained  by  Auer 
(then  head  of  the  violin  classes  at  the  St.  Petersburg 
Conservatoire),  but  not  without  difficulty.  "If  you 
won't  let  me  have  the  best  pupil  ever  offered  to  me," 
said  Auer  to  the  authorities,  "I  will  resign  my  ap- 
pointment." Permission  was  then  given  for  the  boy 
alone  to  remain  at  St.  Petersburg,  but  Auer  would  not 
agree  to  this.  "The  father  will  help  me  to  make  the 
boy,"  he  said.  In  the  end  Auer  accepted  him  as  a  free 
pupil,  and  the  Elman  family  removed  to  St.  Peters- 
burg. 

In  October  1904  a  violinist  prodigy  came  to  St. 
Petersburg  who  at  that  time  had  made  a  great  stir  in 
the  world.  To  Professor  Auer  the  critics  said,  "  Have 
you  ever  heard  anything  like  this  before?"  "Yes,"  he 
replied,  "I  have 'a  pupil  in  my  class  who  can  play  this 
boy's  head  off."  "Why  then,  do  you  not  produce 
him?"  they  inquired;  "it  is  easy  enough  to  make  such 
a  statement,  but  let  us  hear  him."  Arrangements 
were  accordingly  made  for  Mischa  to  appear  at  the 
Deutscher  Liedertafel,  the  most  important  musical 
society  in  St.  Petersburg.  Now,  it  had  always  been 
the  prerogative  of  Auer  to  play  at  this,  the  opening 
meeting  of  the  season.  On  this  occasion,  however, 
185 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

he  sent  a  message  saying  that  he  was  too  unwell  to 
play.  The  president,  in  a  little  speech,  regretted  the 
reason  of  Professor  Auer's  inability  to  play,  but  an- 
nounced that  he  had  sent  his  youngest  pupil  who  he 
felt  had  the  right,  by  reason  of  his  ability,  to  take  his 
place.  After  referring  to  the  service  which  Auer  had 
rendered  to  the  society,  the  president  went  on  to  say 
that  the  distinguished  professor  was  present  as  a  list- 
ener, adding  that  he  (the  president)  rejoiced  that  the 
king  and  his  successor  had  met,  for  it  was  not  often 
given  to  crowned  heads  to  witness  the  coronation  of 
their  successors !  Great  was  the  astonishment,  not  to 
say  amusement,  of  the  audience  when  a  little  fellow 
of  thirteen  appeared  as  Auer's  substitute!  Mischa 
played  the  Mendelssohn  Concerto  (with  pianoforteac- 
companiment),  one  of  Chopin's  Nocturnes,  and  Pag- 
anini's  "Moto  Perpetuo,"  and  with  such  success  that 
the  little  fiddler  was  then  and  there  engaged  by  a  Ger- 
man concert  agent,  who  was  present,  to  play  in  Berlin. 
This  was  in  1904.  The  Berlin  debut  was  particul- 
arly interesting,  since  it  took  place  on  the  night  after 
Von  Vecsey's  appearance  there.  Says  one: 

"Though  the  little  Russian's  programme  was  some- 
what light  as  compared  with  that  of  his  Hungarian 
rival,  it  showed  off  Elman's  marvellous  technique 
which  reached  its  height  in  Sarasate's  'Zapateado,'  a 
Spanish  dance.  His  interpretation  of  Paganini's  Violin 
Concerto  in  D  exhibited  his  extraordinary  power  and 

186 


MISCHA    ELMAN 

depth,  while  he  astounded  his  audience  with  his  brilli- 
ancy of  attack.  For  an  encore  Elman  gave  the  famous 
Nocturne  of  Chopin,  which  brought  out  his  wonderful 
verve  and  rhythmical  daintiness  and  feeling." 

In  1905  the  boy  came  to  London  and  played  at  one 
of  Mr.  Charles  Williams'  orchestral  concerts,  for  a  fee 
of  1 20  guineas — the  largest  fee  hitherto  known  for  an 
instrumental  performer's  first  appearance  in  the  me- 
tropolis. A  recent  writer  says  he  can  recall  "the  ex- 
traordinary sensation  occasioned  by  the  sturdy  little 
boy  in  the  sailor  suit  when,  after  coming  on  the  plat- 
form, grave  and  self-possessed,  and  making  his  stiff 
little  bow,  he  attacked  the  opening  phrases  of  the 
Tscha'ikowsky  Concerto.  His  head,  as  he  stood,  was  on 
a  level  with  that  of  the  seated  leader  of  the  orchestra; 
his  playing  in  every  respect,  in  tone,  technique,  artistic 
feeling,  and  most  amazing  of  all,  in  intellectual  grasp, 
was  that  of  a  full-grown  man.  We  had  all  heard  other 
prodigies  play  what  they  had  been  taught,  and  play  it 
wonderfully  enough;  but  here  was  one  who  had  evid- 
ently felt  and  thought  out  every  bar  for  himself. 
Genuine  emotion,  fiery  and  tender  by  turns,  was  there, 
and  behind  it  all  a  busy  watchful  brain.  The  audi- 
ence was  captured  at  once,  the  critics  did  their  duty 
next  day,  and  succeeding  appearances  confirmed  and 
strengthened  the  first  impression." 

Having  conquered  London,  Mischa  achieved  his 
next  success  in  Paris.  He  played  at  a  Colonne  concert, 
187 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

when  an  interesting  incident  connected  with  his  St. 
Petersburg  period  would  be  recalled. 

M.  Colonne  conducted  an  important  orchestral  con- 
cert in  the  Russian  capital  in  1904,  at  which  Mischa, 
anxious  to  play  in  public  with  the  orchestra,  offered  to 
play  without  fee.  This  was  agreed  to.  But  when  at 
the  rehearsal  M.  Colonne  called  for  the  soloist  and  a 
small  boy  appeared  carrying  his  violin,  the  great 
French  conductor  exclaimed  in  tones  of  indignant  as- 
tonishment, "What!  this  is  an  insult  to  me.  I  have 
conducted  for  the  greatest  artists,  but  never  before 
have  I  received  such  an  insult."  M. Colonne  was  urged 
to  hear  the  boy.  "  Hear  him,"  he  replied ;  tl  no,  I  will 
not:  he  must  play  with  pianoforte  accompaniment 
only."  When  at  night  the  concert  took  place,  and  after 
Mischa  had  played  Wieniawski's  "Faust"  fantasia, 
M.  Colonne,  himself  a  violinist,  made  his  way  to  the 
platform  and  said  to  the  boy,  "I  owe  you  an  apology; 
I  should  have  considered  it  an  honour  to  have  con- 
ducted the  orchestra  with  such  a  player.  My  orchestra 
in  Paris  is  at  your  disposal,  and  I  will  give  you  a  fee 
never  before  known  there."  And  so  Colonne  fulfilled 
his  promise. 

Elman  was  again  in  London  in  1906,  when  he  gave 
a  series  of  recitals  at  Queen's  Hall.  He  became  so 
much  the  rage  then  that  he  could  command  200  guin- 
eas for  playing  at  a  private  party.  He  limited  himself 

to  five  of  these  functions  a  week — £1000!  And  then, 

1 88 


MISCHA    ELMAN 

besides,  there  were  his  concerts.  Since  that  time  his 
career  has  been  a  series  of  triumphs.  His  technique  is 
immense;  but  mere  virtuosity  has  never  tempted  him 
aside,  and  he  is  as  ready  to  trifle  elegantly  with  Saint- 
Saens'  Rondo  Capriccioso  and  other  light  pieces  as  to 
address  himself  to  the  most  serious  thing  ever  written 
for  the  violin — the  Brahms'  Concerto.  And  with  it  all, 
his  manner  remains  as  simple  and  quiet  as  ever.  His 
people  now  permanently  reside  in  London,  and  Mischa 
lives  veryquietlyand  simply  with  them, his  onlyhobby 
being  motoring.  He  plays  on  a  fine  Amati  violin. 


XXXI.  JACQUES  THIBAUD 

JACQUES  THIBAUD  IS  THE  MOST  REPRE- 
sentative  violinist  of  the  French  school  of  to-day.  He 
is  a  Parisian  to  the  finger-tips,  and  is  much  beloved  by 
his  compatriots.  Indeed,  if  one  mentions  violinists  in 
Paris,  the  three  names  most  readily  spoken  of  are 
Ysaye,  Kreisler,  and  Thibaud — a  trio  of  staunch 
friends,  and  the  joint  idols  of  the  musical  public. 

The  son  of  a  well-known  violinist  and  teacher  in 
Bordeaux,  Jacques  Thibaud  had  all  the  advantages  of 
living  in  a  thoroughly  musical  atmosphere,  and  the  ex- 
cellent tuition  he  received  from  his  father  enabled  him 
to  enter  the  Paris  Conservatoire  at  the  age  of  fourteen. 
There,  after  two  years  in  Marsick's  class,  he  carried 
off  the  first  prize.  After  that,  he  accepted  smallengage- 
ments  of  all  sorts,  and  then  his  golden  chance  came 
when  he  joined  the  Colonne  orchestra. 

The  leader  of  the  orchestra  was  taken  ill,  and  Thi- 
baud was  asked  to  fill  his  place.  One  of  the  items  on 
the  programmewas  Saint-Saens'  Preludeto"The  De- 
luge," which  contains  a  very  fine  solo  for  the  first  viol- 
in. To  this  the  young  artist  did  such  justice  that  he 
was  immediately  engaged  as  soloist  for  the  next  con- 
cert. From  that  time  his  position  was  assured.  By  and 
bye  his  engagements  became  so  numerous  that  he  had 
to  give  up  his  connection  with  the  Colonne  orchestra. 
Since  then  he  has  made  himself  a  welcome  visitor  in 
Germany,  Holland,  Belgium,  Russia,  Italy,  Spain, 

Portugal,  and,  as  we  know,  in  England. 

190 


JACQUES    THIBAUD 

Ysaye  was  one  of  the  first  to  recognise  his  excep- 
tional gifts,  and  the  Belgian  artist  is  still  one  of  his 
greatest  admirers.  In  1910,  at  a  dinner  in  London, 
Ysaye  voiced  his  opinion  thus  briefly  but  pointedly: 
"There  are  two  violinists  from  whom  I  never  fail  to 
learn  something  whenever  I  hear  them  play,  and  they 
are  Kreisler  and  Thibaud." 

Thibaud  is  assuredly  among  the  great  violinists 
He  has  not  yet  had  time  to  make  such  a  name  as 
Joachim  or  Sarasate  made.  Necessarily,  he  falls  into 
place  in  public  estimation  beside  M.  Ysaye,  who  may 
now  be  reckoned  as  the  doyen  of  European  violin 
players.  But  in  brilliance  of  execution,  in  strength 
and  purity  of  tone,  and  poetic  and  sentimental  range, 
and  in  a  certain  Gallic  responsiveness  to  mood  and 
style,  M.  Thibaud,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  has  noth- 
ing to  learn  from  any  one  of  his  great  compeers.  His 
quality  of  tone,  his  finesse  of  touch,  the  absolute  cert- 
ainty of  his  stroke  and  pressure  when  special  effects 
are  to  be  obtained,  are  marvellous.  His  playing  owes 
much  of  its  charm  to  a  delightful  warmth  and  spont- 
aneity. The  tone  is  beautifully  ripe  and  mellow,  and 
the  style  easy,  graceful,  and  devoid  of  mannerism. 
Works  like  the  B  minor  Concerto  and  "Havainaise" 
of  Saint-Saens  he  plays  with  an  almost  Oriental 
wealth  of  colour,  and  yet  he  can  bring  out  all  the  charm 
and  delicacy  of  a  Mozart  Concerto.  His  readings  of 

Bach  are  splendidly  broad  and  sonorous.     He  is  an 
191 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

artist  who  makes  a  strong  appeal  to  his  fellow  music- 
ians, and  they  never  miss  hearing  him  if  they  can 
help  it. 

The  point  is  often  debated  whether  physical  exer- 
cises interfere  with  violin-playing.  M.  Thibaud  is  a 
great  "hand"  at  tennis,  which,  with  billiards,  forms 
his  favourite  recreation.  He  was  very  proud  when  he 
carried  off  the  championship  in  the  tennis  tournament 
at  Villers  in  1910.  Contrary  to  the  general  idea,  he 
does  not  find  tennis  interfere  with  his  playing. 

Thibaud  is  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a  fine  Strad- 
ivarius  violin,  dated  1709,3  well-preserved  instrument 
with  a  lovely  tone. 


CHAPTER  XXXII.  KREISLER 

FRITZ  KREISLER  IS  PERHAPS  THE  MOST 
eclectic  violinist  before  the  public  to-day.  He  can  play 
airy  trifles  with  infinite  grace  and  charm  as  well  as 
vivacity;  Beethoven  with  profound  depth,  breadth, 
and  virility;  Bach  with  solemn  detachment;  Mendels- 
sohn with  right  sweetness,  sentiment,  and  power.  It 
is  seldom  that  an  artist  can  master  to  perfection  music 
so  different  in  character. 

Kreisler,  although  possessing  individuality  of  style 
and  tone,  is  the  most  impersonal  of  violinists.  Royalty 
has  honoured  him  on  many  occasions.  Yet,  strange  to 
say,  he  is  not  a  "vogue."  A  London  journal  said  re- 
cently that  if  he  were  to  look  odd,  quarrel  with  his 
relatives,  or  get  into  a  railway  accident,  he  would  win 
the  recognition  which  is  his  due.  Still,  he  has  enough 
reputation  and  to  spare. 

Kreisler  was  born  in  Vienna  in  1875,  the  son  of  a 
leading  physician.  He  cannot  remember  a  time  when 
he  did  not  possess  a  fiddle  of  some  sort,  but  he  says 
he  detested  practising  and  would  have  preferred  to  be 
anything  else  than  a  violinist.  He  adopted  all  sorts  of 
subterfuges  to  escape  from  practice.  But  fate  was  too 
much  for  him.  He  entered  the  Vienna  Conservatoire, 
and  when  only  ten  took  the  first  prize  and  gold  medal 
there.  Then  he  went  to  Paris,  and  still  more  astonish- 
ed his  friends  by  carrying  off  the  much-coveted  Prix 
de  Rome  at  the  conservatoire.  For  he  was  only  twelve 
at  the  time,  and  the  premier  Prix  de  Paris  had  never 
been  gained  by  one  so  young. 
193  N 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

ThePrix  meant,  of  course,four years'  studyinltaly. 
After  that,  he  returned  to  Paris  ;  then  toured  America 
with  Rosenthal,  the  pianist.  He  had  to  come  back  for 
his  military  service,  and  in  fact  became  an  officer  in 
the  Austrian  cavalry.  He  is  still  in  the  reserve  and 
therefore  liable,  in  case  of  mobilisation,  to  be  called 
back  to  his  regiment  of  Uhlans.  One  paragraphist, 
stating  this,  added  that  "were  he  permitted  to  ride  to 
the  front  armed  with  his  violin  he  would  no  doubt  do 
more  than  many  batteries  and  army  corps  to  restore 
the  concord  of  Europe."  There  is  a  picturesqueness 
about  the  suggestion  which  strikes  us  as  very  pleas- 
ing. No  less  do  we  admire  the  final  assurance  that 
"happily  Kreisler  has  not  yet  been  called  upon  to  lay 
aside  the  fiddle  for  the  sword."  Nevertheless,  his 
patriotism  has  cost  him  a  good  deal  in  the  cancellation 
of  professional  engagements. 

Freed  from  his  active  military  duties,  he  devoted 
himself  with  real  zest  to  his  musical  studies.  Fame 
was  slow  in  coming  to  him.  Speaking  in  1 908,  he  said : 
"I  am  thirty-three  now,  and  from  the  age  of  twenty  to 
twenty-seven  I  struggled  hard  for  recognition.Though 
I  played  every  bit  as  well  then  as  I  do  to-day,  people 
did  not  understand  it."  By  and  bye,  however,  he  ap- 
peared at  Berlin  (where  he  resides  permanently)  with 
eminent  success.  Then  he  went  to  America  again,  and 
made  a  London  dtbut  in  1 90 1 .  Since  that  time  he  has 
been  a  welcome  and  frequent  visitor  to  England,  and 

194 


FRITZ    KREISLER 

has  been  heard  at  many  of  the  great  festivals  and  at 
leading  orchestral  concerts.  In  1904  he  was  presented 
at  a  London  Philharmonic  Concert  with  that  society's 
gold  medal. 

Kreisler  was  married  in  1901  to  Miss  H.  Lies,  an 
American  lady,  to  whom  he  acknowledges  much  in- 
debtedness in  his  art.  Frau  Kreisler  is  "a  woman  of 
vast  intelligence  and  insight,  besides  having  a  natural 
critical  faculty  which  is  rare,  and  her  husband  says 
that  she  is  his  severest  critic."  He  has  no  faddy  views 
of  violin  playing.  He  does  not  even  put  in  the  pheno- 
menal bouts  of  practice  with  which  some  virtuosi  are 
credited.  He  says  that  if  one  practises  strenuously 
when  young,  the  fingers  should  retain  their  suppleness 
later,  and  that  the  idea  of  being  compelled  to  practise 
several  hours  daily  is  the  result  of  self-hypnotism, 
which  really  does  create  the  necessity.  He  is  a  thor- 
ough lover  of  sport  and  all  manly  exercises ;  a  keen 
motorist,  and  passionately  fond  of  country  life.  In  fact 
he  says  he  would  like  to  live  in  the  country  and  relin- 
quish part  at  least  of  the  arduous  existence  of  a  tour- 
ing violinist.  He  has  a  very  exalted  conception  of  his 
art,  and  feels  that  he  cannot  do  himself  full  justice 
when  travelling,  rehearsing,  and  playing  to  order,  as 
it  were. 

It  may  be  added  that  he  plays  upon  one  of  the  most 
valuable  Cremona  violins  in  existence — a  Josef  Guar- 
neriusof  1737,  which  he  bought  from  Mr.  George  Hart, 
195 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

the  London  dealer.  He  says  :  "One  day  as  I  entered 
the  rooms  of  Mr.  Hart  I  heard  a  voice,  liquid,  pure, 
penetrating,  which  filled  my  soul  with  longing  and 
made  me  determined  to  possess  such  a  treasure  at  any 
cost.  There  were  difficulties  in  the  way,  as  Mr.  Hart 
had  already  parted  with  it  to  a  collector,  and  it  was 
only  after  long  and  earnest  persuasion,  in  which  Mr. 
Hart  joined,  that  I  was  enabled  to  buy  it  for  ^"2000." 
The  case  alone  of  this  superb  instrument  is  said  to  be 
worth  £200.  Some  years  before,  Kreisler  had  bought 
a  "Strad"  for  ;£8oo.  More  lately  he  has  acquired  an- 
other beautiful  "Strad,"  but  he  still  prefers  the 
Guarnerius. 


XXXIII.  WILLY   BURMESTER 

IT  IS  NEARLY  TWENTY  YEARS  AGO  SINCE 
they  dubbed  Burmester  "Paganini  redivivus."  That 
epithet,  said  one  writer  at  the  time,  "has  been  hurled 
quite  indiscriminately  at  the  heads  of  nearly  all  new 
violinists,  but  it  seems  for  once  in  a  way  to  have  found 
an  object  to  which  it  can  with  justice  be  applied."  Cer- 
tainly! Paganini  was  the  demon  fiddler  of  all  recorded 
musical  history.  His  feats  of  technique  were  so  mar- 
vellous that  many  people  ascribed  them  to  a  super- 
natural agency. 

Well,  when  Burmester  appeared  in  England  in 
1895,  this  was  written  of  him: 

"Recently  there  has  come  amongus  a  phenomenon, 
a  human  phenomenon,  who  not  only  has  played,  but 
played  in  public — a  distinction  with  a  very  great  dif- 
ference!— the  most  difficult  music  composed  by  Paga- 
nini. And  again,  not  only  has  he  played  it,  but  in  a 
number  of  cases  he  has  added  technical  difficulties  of  a 
kind  that  has  no  equal  in  violin  literature.  It  is  safe  to 
say  that  no  half-dozen  violinists  the  whole  world  over, 
even  in  this  age  of  violinists,  could  be  found  to  rival 
with  any  hope  of  even  approximate  success  the  effect 
produced  by  Willy  Burmester." 

"Are  we  not,  then,  justified,"  adds  the  writer,  "in 
regarding  this  phenomenon,  Willy  Burmester,  as  the 
greatest  technical  violin-prestidigitator  whom  the 
world  has  ever  seen,  for  before  him  Paganini  was  by 

common  consent  the  occupant  of  this  post." 
197 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

In  all  this  there  is  perhaps  a  little  of  exaggeration. 
One  reads  in  1895  :  "It  may  be  said  without  fear  of 
contradiction  that  no  new  violinist  has  created  so  pro- 
found an  impression  in  London  in  recent  years.  Like 
Caesar,  Burmester  came,  saw,  and  conquered."  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  his  magnificent  accomplishments,  fully 
recognised  on  the  Continent,  have  never  been  appreci- 
ated at  their  real  worth  in  England. 

Burmester  was  born  at  Hamburg  in  1869.  He  got 
his  first  fiddle  off  a  Christmas  tree  when  he  was  four, 
and  next  year  he  began  to  study  in  earnest.  His  father 
took  him  to  Joachim,  who  at  once  admitted  him  to  the 
Berlin  Hochschule,  of  which  he  was  head.  He  studied 
for  four  years  with  Joachim,  but  somehow  was  refused 
a  certificate  on  leaving.  This  seems  inexplainable,  for 
it  is  stated  that  he  had  worn  down  the  end  of  his  first 
finger  to  the  nerve,  and  had  to  have  several  operations 
in  consequence. 

Embittered  by  Berlin,  he  went  to  Helsingfors,  in 
Finland,  where  for  three  years  he  supported  himself 
by  a  modest  appointment,  and  practised  nine  or  ten 
hours  every  day.  Then,  in  1894,  he  went  to  Berlin 
again,  and  gave  a  recital.  "  Mr.  Burmester  comes  from 
an  obscure  town  unheralded,"  said  one  of  the  papers, 
"and  in  the  face  of  indifference,  prejudice,  and  jeal- 
ousy conquered  the  metropolis  off-hand.  For  nearly 
half-an-hour  recall  followed  recall."  Next  season  he 

was  in  London  and  in  America.    In  London  his  suc- 

198 


WILLY    BURMESTER 

cess  was  attributed  to  Joachim,  and  in  view  of  what 
had  happened,  he  was  very  much  annoyed.  Of  course, 
Joachim  had  laid  the  foundation,  but  it  was  surely  the 
solitude  and  hard  work  at  Helsingfors  that  brought 
that  ''marvellous  almost  diabolical"  technique. 


XXXIV.  CESAR  THOMSON 

CESAR  THOMSON  PRESENTS  A  PROBLEM. 
He  is  one  of  the  biggest  technicians  of  the  violin  now 
living,  and  yet  there  are  others  of  far  less  skill  who 
outshine  him  in  popular  favour.  It  is  the  old  question 
of  personal  magnetism,  apparently.  An  artist  must  be 
"interesting/'andThomson  failsinthat  one  particular. 

He  is  a  native  of  Li6ge,  where  he  was  born  in  1857. 
He  got  his  first  music  lessons  from  his  father,  who 
was  a  violinist.  Subsequently,  he  entered  the  local 
conservatoire,  completed  the  full  course  there  before 
he  was  twelve,  and  carried  off  the  highest  prize  at- 
tainable. Later  on,  he  studied  under  such  giants  as 
Vieuxtemps,  Wieniawski,  and  Massart. 

When  quite  young  he  travelled  in  Italy  and  Spain, 
where  he  scored  tremendous  successes.  Afterwards  he 
appeared  in  the  great  art  centres  of  Europe,  and  cre- 
ated such  a  sensation  as  had  not  then  been  known 
since  the  days  of  Paganini.  In  1879,  after  having  put  in 
four  years  as  solo  violinist  in  the  private  orchestra  of 
an  Italian  nobleman,  he  was  appointed  concert  meister 
of  the  Bilse  orchestra  at  Berlin;  and  his  success  at  the 
Brussels  musical  festival,  three  years  later,  induced 
the  King  to  appoint  him  professor  of  violin  at  his  old 
conservatoire  in  Liege. 

Most  of  his  touring  has  been  done  since  that  date, 
and  though  not  exactly  popular,  he  has  gained  an  im- 
mense reputation  in  musical  Europe.  He  positively 

dazzles  by  his  marvellous  technique  and  astonishing 

200 


CESAR    THOMSON 

tours  de  force.  "He  can  play  the  most  terrific  pas- 
sages," say  s  one, "  without  sacrificing  his  tone  or  clear- 
ness of  phrasing,  and  his  octave  playing  almost  equals 
that  of  Paganini  himself."  One  of  his  feats  is  the  per- 
formance of  Paganini's  "Moto  Perpetuo"  in  octaves. 
But  after  all,  he  is  a  player  for  the  musically  cultiv- 
ated rather  than  for  the  multitude. 

Some  years  ago  (in  1895,  to  be  precise)  Thomson 
told  an  American  interviewer  that  he  believed  the 
days  of  the  virtuoso  to  be  numbered.  All  the  intellig- 
ence, energy,  and  genius  of  the  modern  composer, 
he  said,  are  bent  upon  orchestral  work,  or  work  in 
which  the  orchestra  predominates  or  largely  particip- 
ates. The  prediction  does  not  seem  like  coming  true 
yet  awhile. 

In  1897  Thomson  left  Li6ge,  owing,  it  was  under- 
stood, to  disagreement  at  the  conservatoire.  He  made 
his  home  in  Brussels,  and  is  now  a  professor  at  the 
conservatoire  there.  His  compositions,  numerous 
and  not  unimportant,  include  Scandinavian  works, 
also  a  Fantasie  for  violin  "and  orchestra  on  Hungari- 
an themes,  besides  arrangements  of  the  old  Italian 
masters,  &c.  At  the  moment  of  this  writing  he  is  an- 
nounced as  completing  a  valuable  Violin  Method. 


CHAPTER  XXXV.  JEAN  GERARDY 
TOWARDS  THE  CLOSE  OF  1890  AMATEURS 
were  invited  to  St.  James'  Hall,  London,  to  listen  to 
anew  'cellist,alad notthenquite inhisteens.  Hisname 
was  Jean  Gerardy.  It  so  happened  that  the  keen  inter- 
est which  had  for  a  year  or  two  been  taken  in  the  dis- 
plays of  musical  prodigies  had  become  slackened.  In- 
deed many  whose  professional  duties  necessitated  their 
presence  entered  the  hall  in  a  mood  resembling  that  of 
persons  doing  an  act  of  penance.  They  were  weary  of 
the  exhibition  of  precocious  children,  whom  they  would 
fain  have  banished  to  the  class-room  of  the  music- 
school  for  a  few  seasons. 

It  was  to  auditors  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  Jean 
Gerardy  had  to  make  his  first  appeal  for  England's  ap- 
proval. Nothing  was  known  of  him  or  of  his  family,  so 
that  there  could  be  no  predisposition  in  his  favour. 
But  before  he  had  begun  to  play,  the  appearance  of  the 
boy  aroused  interest.  Though  self-possessed,  there 
was  modesty  in  his  demeanour. 

Taking  up  a  position  behind  his  'cello,  he  at  once 
showed  mastery  over  the  instrument  that  seemed  too 
unwieldy  for  his  apparently  feeble  hands.  The  first 
piecedown  intheprogrammeforhim  wasGoltermann's 
Concerto  in  A  minor,  in  the  performance  of  which  he 
excited  the  astonishment  of  the  audience  by  the  rich- 
ness and  purity  of  his  tone,  the  beauty  of  his  phrasing, 
and  above  all  by  the  just  and  fervent  expression  of  the 

varied  themes  undergoing  interpretation.  These  qual- 

202 


JEAN    GERARDY 

ities  were  further  revealed  in  Max  BruchV  Kol  Nid- 
rei,"  Servais'  fantasia,  "Le  De'sir,"  Popper's  "Taran- 
tella," and  other  well-chosen  pieces.  Since  that 
memorable  afternoon  in  the  December  of  1890  Jean 
Gerardy  has  been  growing  in  stature  as  well  as  in 
knowledge,  while  his  fame  has  ever  been  advancing 
over  the  world  of  art. 

Gerardy  was  born  in  1 878  at  Lie'ge,  where  his  father 
was  a  professor  at  the  conservatoire.  Thus  he  had 
the  right  "  atmosphere  "  from  the  outset.  He  began  to 
study  the  'cello  when  only  seven,  and  at  ten  had  gradu- 
ated at  the  Verviers  Conservatoire.  He  made  a  first 
public  appearance  in  his  native  town  in  1888,  and  im- 
mediately after  was  being  acclaimed  in  other  Belgian 
towns  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm.  A  memorable  in- 
cident in  his  career  was  when  he  took  part,  at  a  large 
charity  concert  at  Austrudel,  in  a  trio,  the  other  mem- 
bers of  which  were  Paderewski  and  Ysaye. 

When  only  thirteen  Gerardy  was  engaged  to  play 
with  the  Viennese  Philharmonic  Orchestra,  then  under 
the  direction  of  Richter ;  and  subsequently  he  made  a 
deep  impression  by  a  tour  in  Germany.  At  twenty-five 
he  had  already  a  career  which  many  artists  are  only 
beginning  at  a  longer  age.  He  has  travelled  all  over 
Europe,  America,  Australia;  everywhere  received  with 
favour. 

He  narrowly  escaped  the  San  Francisco  earthquake. 

He  had  been  playing  in  the  doomed  city,  and  had  ar- 
203 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

ranged  to  leave  by  the  morning  Pullman,  but  at  the 
last  moment  decided  to  travel  by  the  night  train,  just 
succeeding  in  booking  the  last  berth.  A  few  months 
before,  he  was  in  the  terrible  railway  accident  to 
the  Montreal  and  New  York  express,  and  although 
twenty-five  were  killed  and  many  badly  injured,  he 
escaped  with  a  slight  shaking.  In  1902  he  was  said  to 
have  lost  £1500  by  his  recitals  at  Sydney  and  Mel- 
bourne. But  hegained  a  wife — MissAmelia  M'Quade, 
who  is  herself  a  good  musician. 


XXXVI.  PABLO  DE  CASALS 

THIS  INCOMPARABLE  'CELLIST  MADE  HIS 
dtbut  in  England  at  the  Crystal  Palace  in  1898,  yet  it 
is  only  in  recent  years  that  he  has  become  famous. 
His  father  was  organist  at  a  village  near  Barcelona,  so 
that  as  a  boy  he  had  all  the  advantages  of  living  in  a 
world  of  music.  He  got  very  little  formal  instruction, 
though  he  devoted  himself  successively  to  flute,  viol  in, 
and  piano,  and  sang  in  his  father's  church  choir.  He 
was  thirteen  when  he  decided  to  learn  the  'cello ;  and 
in  two  years  from  his  first  lesson  he  took  the  premier 
prize  at  the  Barcelona  Conservatoire,  in  the  face  of 
strong  competition. 

This  achievement  brought  him  under  the  notice  of  a 
leading  statesman,  who  had  him  presented  to  Queen 
Christina;  and  with  such  assistance  a  fund  was  raised 
to  enable  him  to  go  to  Madrid  for  two  years.  It  was 
then  decided  that  he  should  be  sent  to  Brussels;  but 
when  he  arrived  there,  the  director  of  the  conserv- 
atoire, M.  Gevaert,  advised  him  that  he  would  better 
consult  his  own  interests  by  going  to  Paris.  Casals  ac- 
cordingly went  to  Paris,  but  he  offended  his  friends  by 
so  doing,  and  they  withdrew  their  financial  support. 
Being  thus  left  without  means  in  the  French  capital, 
he  came  home  and  accepted  a  post  as  professor  at  the 
Barcelona  Conservatoire. 

Presently  his  friends  relented,  and  he  went  once 
more  to  Paris.  He  carried  an  introduction  to  Lamour- 

eux,  the  eminent  conductor,  with  whom  he  obtained 
205 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

an  interview.  Lamoureux,  who  was  used  to  being  im- 
portuned by  impossible  people,  was  ill  and  in  bad  tem- 
per ;  and  he  remained  at  his  desk  writing  during  Cas- 
als' performance,  seemingly  ignoring  the  whole  affair. 
Casals  was  therefore  greatly  surprised  when,  instead 
of  snubbing  him,  Lamoureux  offered  him  an  engage- 
ment to  play  at  the  next  concert.  When  the  time  came, 
Casals  was  received  with  such  wild  enthusiasm  that 
a  repeat  engagement  was  at  once  arranged.  The  same 
success  attended  him  throughout  the  many  tours 
which  resulted,  from  the  north  to  the  south  of  Europe, 
and  also  in  the  United  States  and  South  America. 

One  of  Gerardy's  admirers  mentions  an  interesting 
personal  experience  as  illustrating  the  lasting  effect 
created  by  his  playing.  This  admirer  was  talking  to  an 
American  gentleman  of  cultivated  musical  tastes. 
Some  years  ago,  he  said,  he  had  heard  a  'cellist  in  a 
small  town,  and  had  been  so  deeply  impressed  that 
he  wished  to  hear  him  again.  Unfortunately  he  could 
not  remember  the  name.  "I  am  sure  you  will  be  able 
to  tell  me,"  he  added,  "for  there  can  be  only  one  such 
artist.  I  have  never  heard  playing  like  it  before  nor 
since."  He  was  told  that  it  must  be  Casals,  who  was 
playing  in  London  the  following  day,  and  to  the 
American's  delight,  this  proved  true. 

Casals' play  ing  is  practically  unique  among  'cellists. 
Technique,  tone,  phrasing,  style,  feeling  are  all  there 

— and  something  more:  an  extraordinary  mentality 

306 


PABLO    DE    CASALS 

and  magnetism  which  make  for  absolute  perfection. 
To  hear  him  play  Bach  is  a  revelation.  Expounded  by 
such  an  artist,  Bach's  works  are  no  longer  a  mass  of 
dry  technicalities,  but  living  music,  replete  with  beau- 
ty, and  often  with  a  sense  of  humour.  "To  be  a  great 
artist,"  says  Casals  himself,  "one  must,  I  believe, seek 
the  truth  in  simplicity,  and  think  only  of  the  music." 
And  most  assuredly  that  is  his  way. 

He  is  a  firm  believer  in  hard  work  and  constant 
practice.  "I  give  every  moment  I  can  to  practice,"  he 
says.  "I  envy  the  fortunate  ones  who  can  dispense 
with  it,  but,  for  myself,  I  cannot."  He  confesses  to  al- 
ways being  nervous  on  the  platform,  but  a  perfect 
technique  and  a  strong  will  prevent  his  nervousness 
from  affecting  his  playing  in  the  very  least. 

When  at  home  Casals  lives  in  Paris,  and  during  the 

summer  months  has  a  few  chosen  pupils,  for  he  likes 

teaching.  He  is  now  thirty-six  years  old.  He  is  utterly 

unaffected,  with  a  native  charm  and  dignity  that  have 

brought  him  hosts  of  friends. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII.  HUGO  BECKER 
HUGO  BECKER  IS  ONE  OF  THE  GREATEST 
of  living  'cellists.  Londoners  used  to  know  well  the 
combination  of  Busoni,  Ysaye  and  Becker,  which 
charmed  music  lovers  for  many  seasons ;  and  there 
are  few  civilised  countries  in  which  the  'cellist  has  not 
toured,  not  once  but  many  times.  He  has  enjoyed 
trio-playing  with  Joachim  and  Von  Biilowand  Brahms, 
and  could  write  an  intensely  interesting  volume  of 
reminiscences  if  he  liked. 

Becker  was  born  at  Strassburg  in  1 864,  the  son  of 
an  eminent  'cellist,  who  founded  the  Florentine  Quart- 
et. "From  my  earliest  years/'  he  says,  "I  lived  in 
an  atmosphere  of  music  and  at  ten  years  of  age  was 
familiar  with  all  the  quartets  and  trios  within  my  scope 
of  execution.  At  the  age  of  five  I  began  to  play  the 
piano,  at  seven  the  violin  and  alto,  and  at  nine  com- 
menced to  study  the  'cello  under  my  father's  tuition. 
When  I  was  sixteen  I  went  to  Dresden  to  take  some 
lessons  from  Griitzmacher,and  also  to  Brussels,  where 
I  was  placed  under  the  care  of  De  Swert.  From  Piatti 
I  received  also  much  valuable  instruction,  and  after 
devoting  myself  to  remarking  the  specialities  of  these 
celebrated  men  and  making  a  study  of  their  own  com- 
positions, I  strove  to  blend  the  various  'schools'  to- 
gether and  form  one  for  myself." 

Becker's  first  appearance  was  at  the  historical  Ge- 
wandhaus  Concerts,  in  Leipzig,  when  he  was  seven- 
teen. After  that  he  toured  a  great  deal  with  his  father, 

208 


HUGO    BECKER 

brother,  and  sister,  all  since  dead.  For  two  years  he 
was  solo  'cellist  of  the  Opera  at  Frankfort  (where  he 
now  resides),  but  had  to  give  up  that  post  to  fulfil  his 
military  service.  "Oh,  yes,"  he  says,  "  I  am  a  German 
officer,  having  passed  my  examination  in  a  cavalry 
regiment.  I  enjoyed  the  year's  military  training,  as 
lam  devoted  to  sport,  and  riding  is  one  of  my  favourite 
pastimes." 

Becker  has  a  great  love  for  sunny  Italy,  where  much 
of  a  happy  youth  was  spent.  He  owns  (or  did  own)  a 
beautiful  house  at  Lake  Como,  where  he  passes  most 
of  the  summer  months  with  his  Italian  wife  and  child- 
ren. He  speaks  English,  French,  and  Italian  with 
great  fluency,  and  his  hobby  is  pictures.  "When  I 
was  about  fourteen,"  he  says,  "  I  secured  a  canvas 
which  I  conveyed  up  into  an  attic  and,  secretly  as  I 
thought,  devoted  some  mornings  to  the  painting  of  a 
picture.  At  the  end  of  this  time  my  father,  who  had 
been  a  silent  observer  of  my  doings,  told  me  that  I 
must  make  a  choice  between  the  arts,  as  I  could  not 
hope  to  pass  my  life  successfully  in  the  worship  of 

both."  What  the  choice  was  the  public  know  and 
also  the  result  therefrom. 


O 


CONDUCTORS 


XXXVIII.      ABOUT  CONDUCTING 

CONDUCTING,  AS  WE  UNDERSTAND  IT  TO- 
day,  is  a  comparatively  modern  affair.  There  were  no 
conductors,  expressly  so-called,  in  the  days  of  Bach 
and  Handel,  Haydn  and  Mozart.  If  there  was  any 
"conducting"  at  all,  it  was  done  by  the  harpsichordist, 
or  by  the  first  violin,  with  an  occasional  wave  of  his 
bow,  just  as  he  felt  that  it  was  required.  No  baton  had 
ever  been  used  in  England  until  Spohr  introduced  one 
at  a  London  Philharmonic  concert  in  1820. 

It  is  worth  recalling  what  Spohr  said  about  the  in- 
cident. In  his  autobiography  we  read : 

"It  was  at  that  time  still  the  custom  that  when  sym- 
phonies and  overtures  were  performed,  the  pianist 
had  the  score  before  him,  not  exactly  to  conduct  from 
it,  but  only  to  read  after  and  to  play  in  with  the  or- 
chestra at  pleasure,  which,  when  it  was  heard,  had 
a  very  bad  effect.  The  real  conductor  was  the  first 
violin,  who  gave  the  tempi,  and  now  and  then,  when 
the  orchestra  began  to  falter,  gave  the  beat  with  the 
bow  of  the  violin.  So  numerous  an  orchestra,  stand- 
ing so  far  apart  from  each  other  as  that  of  the  Philhar- 
monic, could  not  possibly  go  exactly  together,  and  in 
spite  of  the  excellence  of  the  individual  members,  the 
ensemble  was  much  worse  than  we  are  accustomed  to 
in  Germany.  I  had  therefore  resolved,  when  my  turn 
came  to  direct,  to  make  an  attempt  to  remedy  this  de- 
fective system.  Fortunately  at  the  morning  rehearsal 
on  the  day  when  I  was  to  conduct  the  concert,  Mr. 
Ries  was  at  the  piano,  and  he  readily  assented  to  give 
up  the  score  to  me  and  to  remain  whollyexcluded  from 
213 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

all  participation  in  the  performance.  I  then  took  my 
stand,  with  the  score,  at  a  separate  music  desk  in  front 
of  the  orchestra,  drew  my  directing  baton  from  my 
coatpocketand  gave  the  signalto  begin.  Quite  alarmed 
at  such  a  novel  procedure,  some  of  the  directors  would 
have  protested  against  it,  but  when  I  besought  them 
to  grant  me  at  least  one  trial  they  became  pacified. 
The  symphonies  and  overtures  that  were  to  be  re- 
hearsed were  well  known  to  me,  and  in  Germany  I 
had  already  directed  at  theirperformance.  I,  therefore, 
could  not  only  give  the  tempi  in  a  very  decisive  man- 
ner, but  indicated  also  to  the  wind  instruments  and 
horns  all  their  entries,  which  ensured  to  them  aconfid- 
ence  such  as  hitherto  they  had  not  known.  I  also 
took  the  liberty,  when  the  execution  did  not  satisfy 
me,  to  stop,  and  in  a  very  polite  but  earnest  manner  to 
remark  upon  the  manner  of  execution,  which  remarks 
Mr.  Ries,  at  my  request,  interpreted  to  the  orchestra. 
Incited  thereby  to  more  than  usual  attention,  and  con- 
ducted with  certainty  by  the  visible  manner  of  giving 
the  time,  they  played  with  a  spirit  and  correctness 
such  as,  till  then,  they  had  never  been  heard  to  play. 
Surprised  and  inspired  by  this  result,  the  orchestra, 
immediately  after  the  first  part  of  the  symphony,  ex- 
pressed aloud  its  united  assent  to  the  new  mode  of 
conducting,  and  thereby  overruled  all  further  oppos- 
ition on  the  part  of  the  directors.  The  result  in  the  ev- 
ening was  still  more  brilliant  than  I  could  have  anti- 
cipated. The  audience,  it  is  true,  were  at  first  startled 
by  the  novelty,  and  were  seen  whispering  together; 
but  when  the  music  began,  and  the  orchestra  executed 
the  symphony  with  unusual  power  and  precision,  the 

214 


ABOUT    CONDUCTING 

general  approbation  was  shown  immediately  on  the 
conclusion  of  the  first  part  by  a  long-sustained  clap- 
ping of  hands." 

Mendelssohn  also  used  a  baton  a  few  years  later, 
but  it  was  not  until  1833  that  British  musicians  had 
the  courage  to  leave  the  piano  and  take  up  the  stick, 
though  they  acknowledged  how  much  better  the  or- 
chestra went  together  under  a  conductor.  In  that  year 
the  Athen&um,  in  the  account  of  the  second  Philhar- 
monic concert,  said:  "Sir  G.  Smart,  in  the  true  capac- 
ity of  a  conductor,  stood  with  a  baton  in  his  hand,  and 
we  never  heard  the  band  go  better."  After  the  third 
concert  of  that  season  the  same  paper  said:  "Bishop 
conducted  with  a  baton — let  us  hope,  therefore,  that 
the  leader's  'occupation's  gone.'" 

Nikisch  says  truly  that  the  art  of  conducting  is  a 
modern  one,  possible  only  since  Beethoven.  The  con- 
ductor of  earlier  times  had  no  opportunity  to  develop 
an  individual  conception,  but  the  modern  conductor 
must  probe  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  a  work,  and  build 
it  up  anew.  He  is  a  re-creator,  and  must  often  depart 
from  the  composer's  tempi  and  expression.  Conduct- 
ors who  do  this  have  existed  only  since  Von  Billow. 

In  a  word,  conducting  has  come  to  be  a  real  special- 
ity, a  very  subtle  art.  Many  people  imagine  that  the 
mere  wagging  of  a  stick  one  way  or  another  cannot 
make  any  very  appreciable  difference  to  the  per- 
formers, so  long  as  it  marks  the  time  for  them  cor- 
215 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

rectly.  The  only  way  to  fully  convince  the  public  of 
the  power  the  baton  possesses  would  be  to  have  the 
same  piece  played  by  the  same  orchestra  several  times 
in  immediate  succession,  and  conducted  each  time  by 
a  different  conductor;  they  would  then  recognise — 
though  they  might  still  fail  to  understand  the  reason — 
the  influence  for  good  (or  bad)  which  he  exercises 
over  his  forces. 

Men  who  have  failed  in  everything  else,  it  is  some- 
times said,  take  to  conducting  because  it  is  easy  and 
fascinating.  As  a  fact,  it  requires  more  study  and  more 
natural  gifts  than  almost  any  other  branch  of  the  art, 
except  perhaps  composition.  Firstly,  the  conductor 
must  be  an  all-round  thorough  musician.  Secondly, 
he  must  know  the  scores  of  all  the  works  he  conducts 
extremely  well,  and  if  possible,  by  heart.  Thirdly, 
he  must  have  a  good  knowledge  of  the  possibilities 
and  distinguishing  features  of  all  the  instruments. 
Fourthly,  he  must  have  an  accurate  ear  and  a  good 
memory.  Fifthly,  his  beat,  besides  being  clear  and  de- 
cisive, must  indicate  in  an  intelligent  manner  the  dif- 
ferent effects  he  wishes  produced.  Further,  he  must 
possess  such  natural  gifts  as  magnetism,  poetic  feel- 
ing, a  strong  sense  of  rhythm,  and  above  all — person- 
ality and  temperament,  or  in  other  words,  he  must  im- 
press orchestra  and  audience  with  a  sense  of  his  com- 
plete mastery,  and  must  have  enthusiasm.  Picture  a 

rehearsal  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  in  a  bitterly 

216 


ABOUT    CONDUCTING 

cold  hall  half-full  of  fog.  The  conductor  shows  his 
temperament  when  he  makes  half-dead  players  live 
and  glow  with  enthusiasm. 

It  is  a  striking  fact  that  great  composers  as  a  rule 
have  made  poor  conductors.  Mendelssohn,  Liszt,  and 
Berlioz  were  great  composers  and  great  conductors, 
but  the  combination  is  rare.  Neither  Berlioz  nor  Wag- 
ner could  play  any  of  the  orchestral  instruments  well. 
Yet  Berlioz  was  a  man  of  great  personal  magnetism 
and  a  most  engaging  personality.  Wherever  he  went 
audiences  literally  fell  at  his  feet.  Wagner  was  per- 
haps less  magnetic,  but  enormously  capable  and  al- 
ways in  perfect  command  of  himself;  a  most  important 
attribute  of  a  good  conductor.  He  is  said  to  have  had 
an  "exquisite  sense  of  beauty  of  tone,  nuances  of  tempo, 
and  precision  and  proportion  of  rhythm."  His  beat 
was  very  pronounced,  and  his  control  over  the  men 
was  both  imperial  and  sympathetic.  As  a  conductor 
Beethoven  was  wanting  entirely  in  self-command  and 
dignity.  Schumann  was  unsympathetic,  nervous,  and 
lacking  in  clearness  of  intention.  And  so  on. 

Nowadays  the  conductor  is,  as  a  rule,  the  conduct- 
or only.  Von  Billow,  Levi,  Lamoureux,  Colonne, 
Richter,  Nikisch,  Weingartner,  Sir  Henry  J.  Wood — 
not  one  wrote  or  has  written  anything  of  importance 
that  is  likely  to  live.  Some,  like  Wagner,  could  not 
even  play  the  piano  decently!  Michael  Balling,  of  the 

Hall6  Orchestra,  plays  theviola;  Richter'sinstrument 
217 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

was  the  horn ;  Nikisch  excels  on  the  violin,  but  all 
three  are  inexpert  on  the  "household  orchestra."  So 
it  comes  back  to  the  assertion  that  your  modern  con- 
ductor is  conductor  only.  That  is  his  part:  he  simply 
conducts.  The  condition  is  born  of  modern  circum- 
stances. Orchestral  scores  have  become  so  complic- 
ated and  over-loaded  that  the  primitive  methods  above 
indicated  would  never  work. 

Weingartner  has  something  very  apt,  if  also  sarcast- 
ic, to  say  in  illustration  of  this.  He  writes: 

"Let  us  open  a  number  of  new  scores.  After  we 
have  impressed  on  our  memory  the  title,  and  in  many 
cases  the  programme,  we  find  as  a  firstcommon feature 
— after  the  pattern  of  the  Nibelungen  scores — a  special 
page  with  a  detailed  list  of  the  numerous  orchestral 
instruments  required  and  as  many  as  possible  to  each 
class;  secondly,  corresponding  to  it,  a  huge  number 
of  staves,  so  that  the  score  looks  as  if  one  had  to  climb 
up  and  down  a  ladder  to  be  able  to  see  all  that  is  going 
on;  thirdly,  complicated  divisions  at  every  moment  of 
the  string  quintet;  fourthly,  one  harp  glissando  after 
another;  fifthly,  ever  so  many  stopped  notes  in  the 
horns  and  trumpets;  sixthly,  strong  and  frequently 
unintermittent  use  of  toneless  instruments  of  percus- 
sion, producing  mere  noise;  seventhly,  a  marked  tend- 
ency to  carry  up  all  instruments  into  their  highest 
registers,  where  they  no  longer  give  out  tone,  but  a 
shrill  scraping,  squeaking,and  whistling;  and  eighthly 
and  finally,  the  working  up  of  all  these  clangs  into  a 
wild  tumult,  which  admits  of  no  musical  articulation 

218 


ABOUT    CONDUCTING 

because  it  is  simply  an  infernal  hubbub,  in  which  it 
does  not  matter  a  straw  what  is  played." 

This,  if  somewhat  exaggerated — as  indeed  all  satire 
of  the  kind  must  be,  if  it  is  to  strike  home — carries 
with  it  a  wise  word  of  warning  to  rising  composers. 

There  are  all  sorts  of  conductors.  Some  years  ago 
an  American  musical  journal,  impressed  with  theantics 
of  certain  of  the  tribe,gave  a  set  of  "Counsels  for  Con- 
ductors," amusing  enough  for  reprinting.  Here  they 
are: 

"Take  lessons  in  swimming  and  carpet-beating. 

"Confine  your  attention  to  yourtoilet — to  cuffs,  col- 
lar, gloves,  and  back  hair;  and  always  bear  this  in 
mind,  your  cuffs  and  shirt-front  cannot  be  too  much 
displayed. 

"Tap  vigorously  on  the  desk,  and  give  a  prolonged 
'Hush!'  in  all  soft  passages.  It  draws  the  attention 
of  the  audience  from  the  music  to  the  conductor. 

"  Attheconclusion  of  each  piece  wipe  your  forehead, 
whether  it  needs  it  or  not.  Scowl  occasionally  on  the 
man  with  the  double-bass,  and,  directly  the  drummer 
comes  in  with  his  part,  wave  your  left  hand  violently 
in  his  direction;  it  keeps  down  their  vanity. 

"If  you  wear  long  hair,  throw  it  back  by  a  graceful 
swing  of  the  head  at  the  end  of  all  difficult  passages, 
for  it  will  remind  the  audience  that  all  the  merit  is 
yours." 

More  recently  Mr.  Granville  Bantock  waxed  sar- 
castic over  the  same  thing.  According  to  the  modern 
219 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

idea,  he  said,  hands,  arms,  head,  nay  the  whole  body 
of  the  conductor  must  be  en  evidence  and  in  thorough 
order  for  the  gigantic  accomplishment  of  any  orches- 
tral work.  The  conductor  "must  endeavour,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  interpret  the  dramatic  situation  by  his  own 
actions.  For  instance,  the  ride  of  the  Valkyries  can 
only  be  illustrated  by  throwing  both  arms  about  madly 
in  all  directions.  Doubtless  we  shall  soon  see  the 
conductor  provided  with  a  mechanical  horse,  after  the 
approved  round-about  fashion,  to  facilitate  his  efforts 
in  this  direction.  The  prelude  to  'Lohengrin'  will  pro- 
vide a  new  sensation,  as,  with  the  aid  of  a  parachute, 
the  conductor  will  be  enabled  to  descend  from  the 
roof  of  the  hall  on  to  the  platform,  representing  thus 
the  descent  of  the  Grail." 

Mr.  Bantock  called  attention  to  the  forcible,  not  to 
sayremarkable  elbow-action  of  botharmsas  an  essent- 
ial feature  of  the  "new  style."  He  admitted  himself 
unable  to  afford  any  explicit  information  on  the  point; 
but  suggested  that  an  hour's  practice  every  morning 
before  breakfast  with  6-lb.  dumb-bells  would  greatly 
strengthen  the  biceps  of  any  ordinary  individual,  and 
after  a  time  qualify  him  for  conducting.  And  then  he 
added:  "I  have  my  suspicions  that  the  modern  con- 
ductor carries  a  small  portable  dynamo  in  his  coat- 
tail  pocket  for  supplying  himself  with  a  new  store  of 
strength  when  his  natural  physical  power  fails  him." 

This  is  all  very  amusing,  but  gesticulating  conduc- 

220 


ABOUT    CONDUCTING 

tors  arc  not  a  purely  twentieth-century  product.  Con- 
ductors have  always  had  to  express  their  individuality 
— poor  as  it  may  have  been  in  some  cases.  And  that 
individuality  has  naturally  been  of  various  kinds.  A 
man  need  not  have  passed  much  beyond  middle  life  to 
have  witnessed  such  time-beaters  as  may  answer  to 
some  of  the  following  descriptions:  The  Jullienesque, 
or  picturesque  conductor;  the  drill-sergeant  or  mar- 
tinet conductor,  who  is  always  worrying  his  players; 
the  red  and  fussy  conductor  who  uses  his  whole  body 
to  give  an  elaborate  invitation  to  the  first  violins  to 
make  an  obvious  entry,  and  whose  frantic  beat  to  the 
horns  after  they  have  entered  proves  that  he  has  lost 
his  place  in  the  score;  the  stodgy  conductor,  more  fit 
to  handle  a  policeman's  than  a  conductor's  baton;  the 
antic-acrobatic  or  contortionist  conductor,  who  should 
be  screened  from  public  view;  and  the  absent-minded 
conductor.  Concerning  one  of  the  last  named,  it  is 
stated  that,  when  rehearsingthe  overture  to  "Zampa," 
he  continued  to  beat  time  after  the  band  had  played  the 
final  chord,  "We  have  finished,  sir,"  the  principal 
violinist  ventured  to  remark.  "Finished!"  replied 
the  astonished  batonist.  "Why,  I  have  twelve  more 
bars!" 

The  demonstrative,  gesticulating  conductor  has 
been  declaimed  against  often  enough,  and  no  doubt  to 
many  he  is  a  nuisance  and  a  distraction.  Wagner  had 

the  right  idea  when  he  made  his  Bayreuth  orchestra 
221 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

(and  the  conductor)  invisible.  It  is  really  not  necess- 
ary to  indulge  in  the  capers  one  gets  from  certain 
conductors.  Take  the  greatest  of  modern  conductors, 
Hans  Richter,  now  retired,  as  an  example.  Richter 
conducted  an  orchestra  of  artists;  consequently  he  had 
only  to  give  them  a  lead,  explain  a  piece  to  them,  and 
they  followed  him.  You  saw  in  his  case  absolute  dign- 
ity in  gesticulation,  no  exuberance  of  gesture  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort.  The  same,  as  we  shall  find,  is  true 
of  Arthur  Nikisch. 

Obviously,  that  is  what  conductors  should  aim  at — 
the  absolute  purity  of  a  rendering,  without  any  hum- 
bug. There  may  be  people  who  think  that  the  more 
the  conductor  jumps  about  and  "exerts"  himself,  the 
better  will  be  the  performance.  But  the  man  who  ar- 
rives at  the  greatest  result  with  the  simplest  methods 
must  be  the  artist.  One  has  known  instances  where, 
the  simpler  the  music  was,  the  wilder  the  conductor 
became.  "I  would  like  to  see  a  little  more  dignity  and 
restraint,  and  more  usefulness  in  the  conductor,"  says 
Sir  Edward  Elgar.  "There  is,  I  know,  a  great  differ- 
ence in  choirs  and  orchestras.  Many  of  the  members 
are  not  artists,  and  in  the  early  stages  of  training  a 
good  deal  is  required  to  keep  them  in  order.  Never- 
theless, I  wish  that  conductors  would  avoid  exagger- 
ation, and  study  how  to  get  the  best  results  with  the 
least  possible  exertion,  and  make  the  position  a  little 

more  dignified." 

222 


ABOUT    CONDUCTING 

Of  course  there  are  great  living  conductors  who 
are  not  quiet,  and  yet  achieve  splendid  results.  They 
are  perfectly  sincere.  It  is  no  use  laying  down  the  law 
where  temperament  is  the  determining  factor.  As  nat- 
ural is  it  for  one  conductor  to  be  demonstrative  as  it 
is  for  another  not  to  be  demonstrative.  Occasionally 
there  may  be  some  quackery  on  the  part  of  totally  in- 
significant conductors,  but  it  is  well  to  remember  that 
different  natures  have  different  ways  of  doing  things. 
In  any  case,  when  to  a  thorough  technical  equipment 
is  added  first-rate  musicianship,  a  magnetic  person- 
ality, ripe  experience,  and  poetic  fervour  on  the  part 
of  the  conductor — an  efficient  orchestrabeingassumed 
— results  approaching  perfection  may  be  looked  for. 


XXXIX.  ARTHUR  NIKISCH 

WRITING  IN  1896,  A  LEIPZIG  MUSICIAN  SAID 
of  Nikisch:  "He  hasproved  himself  an  extraordinarily 
gifted  conductor,  and  one  who  understands  how  to  win 
the  public  favour;  especially  in  his  character  of  'the 
pale  man  with  the  black  forelock '  does  he  know  how 
to  influence  the  fair  sex  and  the  critics."  That  is  a 
long  time  ago,  and  one  fancies  that  Arthur  Nikisch, 
if  he  ever  really  thought  of  influencing  the  fair  sex  by 
his  conducting,  has  other  ends  in  view  now! 

Nikisch  is  one  of  the  most  magnetic  (the  repetition 
of  the  word  can't  be  avoided)  and  perfectly  equipped 
conductors  before  the  public.  "I  have  burned  all  my 
compositions,  and  mean  to  be  known  as  a  conductor 
only,"  he  wrote  a  good  many  years  ago.  It  was  a 
wise  decision.  His  method  before  the  public  is  full  of 
modesty  on  the  one  hand,  and  extraordinary  nervous 
force  on  the  other.  His  manner  of  conducting  is  char- 
acterised by  severe  self-control,  and  at  the  same  time 
his  results  are  far  above  those  achieved  by  many  who 
employ  the  wildest  gesticulations.  He  is  an  inter- 
preter, expounder,  commentator,  but  he  lets  the  in- 
strumentSjinspired  by  the  men  executing  his  will,  make 
the  publication.  He  invites  a  fortissimo  by  a  wave  of 
his  wand,  but  he  does  not  act  the  fortissimo  for  the 
edification  of  the  audience.  He  uses  no  music,  but  he 
makes  no  parade  of  the  fact.  His  gestures  are  incisive 
and  full  of  nervous  energy,  but  not  sweeping.  He 

keeps  his  eyes  and  features  for  the  musicians,  and,  as 

224 


ARTHUR    NIKISCH 

far  as  possible,  also  his  right  hand  and  arm.  His  left 
hand  is  seldom  used,  and  when  he  calls  it  into  action 
it  is  only  for  a  moment,  to  hold  a  wing  of  his  forces 
in  check.  He  does  not  obtrude  his  signs  of  expres- 
sion upon  the  public,  though  he  uses  them  freely;  his 
men  know  his  intentions  before  they  come  before  the 
people.  He  directs  his  men,  controls  and  sways  them ; 
they  are  his  agents  of  expression,  the  vehicles  of  his 
emotional  proclamation. 

Tschaikowsky  recorded  a  notable  estimate  of  him 
when  speakingof  his  work  at  the  Leipzig  Opera.  Thus 
wrote  the  composer  of  the  Pathetic  Symphony: 

"I  heard  'Rheingold'  and  'Die  Meistersinger.'  The 
orchestra  of  the  opera  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Ge- 
wandhaus,  and  therefore  of  the  first  rank;  but,  however 
faultless  the  orchestral  performance  appears  under  the 
direction  of  Reinecke,  one  only  gains  a  true  idea  of 
the  orchestral  perfection  which  an  orchestra  can  attain 
under  a  talented  conductor  when  one  hears  the  diffi- 
cult and  complicated  scores  of  Wagner  played  under 
the  direction  of  so  wonderful  a  master  of  his  subject 
as  Herr  Nikisch  is.  His  conducting  has  nothing  in 
common  with  the  effective  and  in  its  way  inimitable 
manner  of  Herr  Hans  von  Biilow.  In  the  same  pro- 
portion as  the  latter  is  full  of  movement,  restless,  effect- 
ive in  the  sometimes  very  noticeable  manner  of  his 
conducting,  so  is  Herr  Nikisch  quiet,  sparing  of  super- 
fluous movements,  and  yet  so  extraordinarily  com- 
manding, powerful,  and  full  of  self-control.  He  does 
not  conduct,  he  yields  to  some  secret  charm;  himself 
225  P 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

one  hardly  remarks;  he  does  not  trouble  at  all  to  draw 
attention  to  himself,  but  nevertheless  one  feels  that 
the  entire  orchestra  is  as  one  instrument  in  the  hands 
of  a  remarkable  master,  and  follows  his  beat  entirely 
and  without  personal  volition.  This  conductor  is  small 
in  stature,  a  very  pale  young  man  with  splendid  poet- 
ical eyes,  which  must  really  possess  some  mesmeric 
power  compelling  the  orchestra,  now  to  thunder  like 
a  thousand  trumpets  before  Jericho,  then  to  coo  like 
a  dove,  and  then  to  make  one  shudder  with  breathless 
mysticism!" 

To  this  maybe  added  the  estimate  of  one  of  his  Lon- 
don Symphony  Orchestra  players.  He  says: 

"I  well  remember  the  first  time  I  played  under  Herr 
Nikisch.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  a  festival  preparation. 
We  had  been  playing  for  about  nine  hours  per  diem  for 
several  days,  and  on  this  particular  day  we  had  been 
rehearsing  all  the  morning,  had  given  a  concert  in  the 
afternoon,  and  were  again  assembled  at  7  P.M.  to  re- 
hearse for  the  Nikisch  concert !  Our  one  hope  was  that 
he  would  let  us  off  lightly,  and  reserve  all  the  heavy 
work  for  the  following  morning.  When  Herr  Nikisch 
appeared  and  had  been  introduced  to  us,  he  made  a 
graceful  speech,  and  at  once  started  with  the  Tschai- 
kowsky  Symphony  No.  5,  in  E  minor.  Before  we  had 
been  playing  five  minutes  we  were  deeply  interested, 
and,  later,  when  we  came  to  the  \Agfortissimos  we  not 
only  played  like  fiends,  but  we  quite  forgot  we  were 
tired.  For  my  own  part  I  simply  boiled  over  with  en- 
thusiasm. I  could  have  jumped  up  and  shouted — as  a 
matter  of  fact  when  we  reached  the  end  of  the  first 

226 


ARTHUR    NIKISCH 

movement  we  all  did  rise  from  our  seats  and  actually 
shouted  because  we  could  not  help  it.  The  weird  part 
of  it  all  was,  that  we  played  this  symphony  through — 
with  scarcely  a  word  of  direction  from  Herr  Nikisch 
— quite  differently  from  our  several  previous  perform- 
ances of  the  same  work.  He  simply  looked  &  us,  often 
scarcely  moving  his  baton,  and  we  played  as  those 
possessed;  we  made  terrific  crescendi,  sudden  commas 
before  some  great  chord,  though  we  had  never  done 
this  before. 

"When  Herr  Nikisch  stops  us  to  make  some  remark, 
absolute  silence  prevails.  He  speaks  in  a  very  quiet, 
smooth  tone  of  voice;  he  tells  us  where  we  can  improve 
a  passage,  a  phrase;  he  calls  our  attention  to  several 
points  we  have  not  made  enough  of;  but  rarely  does 
he  ask  us  to  play  a  passage  again — he  trusts  to  our 
memories.  Then,  when  he  has  said  all  that  he  thinks 
is  necessary  concerning  the  work  we  have  played,  he 
looks  at  his  watch  and  says:  'What  shall  we  do  now? 
Shall  we  go  on,  or  shall  we  have  a  cigarette?'  Marvel 
of  marvels,  we  call  out  to  him  logo  on!  Herr  Nikisch 
charms  us  by  his  great  modesty;  his  one  aim  seems  to 
be  to  make  that  which  we  play  more  beautiful  than 
ever  before.  He  never  thinks  of  personal  aggrandise- 
ment, or  to  show  with  what  ease  he  can  control  an 
enormous  orchestra.  No,  no!  He  shows  us  how  to  at- 
tain to  the  most  beautiful  and  the  highest  in  art,  and 
we  endeavour  to  realise  his  ideals." 

Nikisch  is  very  human  with  it  all, too.  Writing  him- 
self about  conducting,  he  says:  "The  conductor's  con- 
ception is  not  all;  the  conductor's  real  art  is  displayed 
227 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

in  the  way  he  gives  expression  to  his  conception.  He 
must  attune  and  unify  the  individual  conceptions  of 
his  bandsmen,  and  have  that  absolute  control  over 
them  which  comes  from  a  gift  of  persuasion,  humour, 
magnetism,  the  art  of  putting  himself  in  their  place. 
Each  group  needs  different  treatment.  The  oboe  and 
bassoon  players  are  nervous,  and  must  be  petted. 
Holding  the  breath  causes  a  flow  of  blood  to  the  head. 
The  players  of  big  wind  instruments  and  violas  are 
composed  and  good  natured.  The  clarinet  player  is 
sentimental,  and  so  on.  The  tactics  of  the  conductor 
culminate  in  letting  each  performer  think  that  he  is 
carrying  out  his  own  conception,  when  he  is  really 
subjecting  himself  to  the  conception  of  the  conductor. 
A  conductor  does  best  with  a  band  that  he  has  known 
for  years,  but  it  is  often  possible,  after  a  single  rehears- 
al, to  establish  such  a  contact  that  the  performance  is 
perfect." 

Nikisch  says  his  interpretations  change  as  to  de- 
tails from  day  to  day.  The  emotional  character  of  the 
music  engrosses  him,  and  he  does  not  know  how  he 
communicates  his  ideas  to  his  men.  He  never  figures 
out  in  advance  how  he  is  going  to  play  each  bar.  He 
treats  his  players  as  souls,  not  as  machines.  He  takes 
their  mood  and  physical  condition  into  account.  If  the 
horn  player  is  in  splendid  form,  he  follows  the  slow 
time  the  player  has  chosen  in  a  solo  passage.  If  the 

man  is  nervous  and  ill,  and  his  breath  bad,  he  lets  him 

228 


ARTHUR    NIKISCH 

play  the  passage  faster.  "The  conductor,"  he  says, 
"must  never  forget  that  those  under  him  are  human." 

Nikisch  was  born  at  Szent-Miklos,  in  Hungary,  in 
1855,  son  of  the  head  book-keeper  to  Prince  Liechten- 
stein. He  studied  at  the  Vienna  Conservatoire,  which 
he  left  in  1874  with  prizes  for  composition  and  violin- 
playing.  For  four  years  he  was  a  violinist  in  the  Im- 
perial Orchestra  of  Vienna,  but  in  1878,  when  only 
twenty-three,  he  was  chosen  by  Angelo  Neumann  as 
conductor  of  the  Leipzig  Stadt-Theatre,  in  association 
with  Herr  Sucher  and  Herr  Seidl.  At  Leipzig  he  won  a 
great  reputation,  which  he  materially  increased  when, 
in  1889,  he  was  appointed  conductor  of  the  Boston 
Symphony  Orchestra. 

On  his  return  to  Europe  in  1893  he  became  conduct- 
or of  the  Opera  at  Budapesth,  where  he  gave  special 
attention  to  Slavonic  music,  and  was  mainly  respons- 
ible for  the  successful  revival  of  the  operas  of  Smetana 
and  other  national  composers.  He  came  first  to  Eng- 
land in  1895,  and  immediately  attracted  the  attention 
of  those  best  qualified  to  appreciate  a  first-rate  con- 
ductor. Since  then  he  has  proved  himself  one  of  the 
most  dominating  of  the  leading  personalities  who  dir- 
ect our  best  orchestral  forces.  During  his  visit  to  Lon- 
don in  1 895,  he  received  the  greatest  honour  of  his  life 
— the  offer  to  become  conductor  of  the  famous  Ge- 
wandhaus  Orchestra  at  Leipzig,  and  that  post  he  still 

retains. 
229 


XL.  FELIX    WEINGARTNER 

FELIX  WEINGARTNER,  DESCRIBED  IN  RIE- 
mann's  Lexicon  as  "  nobleman  of  Miinz berg,"  was  born 
at  Zara,  in  Dalmatia,  in  1863.  His  father,  a  native  of 
Vienna,  was  a  director  of  telegraphs  under  the  Aus- 
trian Government.  He  suffered  from  a  chest  complaint, 
and  asked  to  be  appointed  to  the  southernmost  station, 
which  was  Zara.  And  so  it  came  about  that  the  future 
conductor  entered  the  world  in  the  capital  of  Dalmatia. 

The  boy  began  to  play  the  piano  at  six;  and  when 
he  was  eighteen  entered  the  Leipzig  Conservatoire. 
He  won  the  Mozart  prize  before  leaving  in  1883,  and 
was  entrusted  with  the  direction  of  Beethoven's  Sec- 
ond Symphony  in  public.  This  proved  the  determining 
point  in  his  career,  as  he  there  and  then  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  a  conductor.  Liszt  interested  himself  in  the 
young  man,  and  invited  him  to  Weimar,  where  he  met 
many  of  the  notable  pianists  whose  names  have  a 
place  in  these  pages. 

In  1 884  he  entered  upon  his  regular  conducting  car- 
eer; and  became  successively  kapellmeister  at  Leip- 
zig, Konigsberg  (where  Wagner  had  once  been  con- 
ductor), Prague,  Mannheim,  and  Hamburg.  In  1891 
he  was  called  to  Berlin  to  conduct  the  Royal  Opera, 
but  exchanged  that  post  three  years  later  for  a  similar 
one  at  the  Munich  Court  Theatre.  He  did  not  "hit  it" 
with  the  Court  at  Berlin,  being  accused  of  modernity 
and  innovation.  In  pique,  he  declared  he  would  give 

up  the  baton  and  take  to  composition,  but  that  has  not 

230 


FELIX    WEINGARTNER 

happened  yet!  In  1908  he  signed  an  agreement  to 
stay  away  from  Berlin  till  1921.  The  Court  of  Appeal 
confirmed  the  agreement  in  1912;  for  the  Director- 
General  of  the  Theatres  insists  upon  his  rights. 

Weingartner  made  his  first  appearance  in  England 
in  May  1898,  when  he  conducted  one  of  the  Wagner 
concerts  at  Queen's  Hall.  A  musical  journal,  speaking 
of  him  then,  said:  "He  seems  a  thoroughly  sound  and 
sane  musician,  bent  on  reproducing  the  great  master's 
ipsissima  verba,  so  to  speak,  and  imbuing  them  with 
their  fullest  beauty  and  nobility.  He  inflicts  no  far- 
fetched new  'readings'  upon  us,  nor  is  he  a  tempo  rub- 
ato  faddist  when  dealing  with  composers  to  whom 
rhythm  is  everything." 

In  his  booklet  on  conducting  Weingartner  deals 
severely  with  the  rubato  conductor,  and  speaks  of  the 
desire  of  some  to  place  themselves  in  the  foreground 
at  the  expense  of  the  composer,  and  to  attract  the  at- 
tention of  listeners  by  poses,  movements,  andgestures. 
The  physical  aspect  of  his  own  conducting  makes  it  a 
pleasure  to  watch  him.  His  movements  combine  the 
dignity  and  calm  of  Richter,  with  the  quicksilvery 
alertness  and  exuberance  of  Sir  Henry  J.  Wood,  and 
to  see  him  draw  a  long,  slow-time  movement  crescendo 
out  of  the  orchestra,  and  lead  up  to  some  great  climax, 
is  sufficient  to  explain  his  influence  over  his  players. 
He  possesses  a  great  amount  of  personal  magnetism, 

and  the  moment  he  raises  his  baton,  orchestra  and 
231 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

audience  are  captured  by  the  impression  of  his  per- 
sonality. 

One  of  his  orchestra  men  wrote  this  of  him  in  1904: 

"When  Herr  Weingartner  takes  us  through  awork 
at  rehearsal  we  feel  that  he  already  knows  exactly 
what  he  wants,  and  moreover  that  he  has  the  power 
and  knack  of  getting  it  without  any  undue  fuss  or 
worry;  all  is  calm  and  peaceful  with  him  at  rehearsal. 
At  the  performance  he  is  like  one  hypnotised,  and  with 
the  power  to  impart  the  spell  to  those  playing  under 
his  baton;  and,  while  always  retaining  absolute  con- 
trol, he  permits  the  individual  player  who  for  the  mom- 
ent has  the  more  important  subject  to  feel  that  he  can 
play  with  ease  and  comfort.  It  is  always  a  great  pleas- 
ure to  play  under  Herr  Weingartner's  direction." 

He  has  no  fads,  not  even  the  fad  of  conducting  from 
memory.  "  I  do  not  look  upon  directing  by  heart  as  at 
all  necessary,"  he  says.  "The  performance  will  be  just 
as  good  if  the  leader  has  his  score  before  him.  Of 
course,  in  any  case  he  must  know  the  music  thor- 
oughly. I  have  never  studied  a  score  with  the  purpose 
of  learning  it  by  heart,  but  when  the  music  is  suffici- 
ently stamped  upon  my  memory  then  I  do  not  take  the 
partitur  into  the  concert.  I  hold  it  to  be  inartistic  and 
absurd  to  force  one's  memory.  The  conductor  should 
be  only  the  true  interpreter  of  the  thoughts  of  the  com- 
poser. He  is  to  reproduce  the  picture  which  the  work 
calls  up  before  him  as  clearly,  as  simply,  and  as  per- 
fectly as  possible.  Anything  else  is  a  side  issue." 

232 


FELIX    WEINGARTNER 

Weingartner  is  not  only  a  conductor  and  a  com- 
poser: he  shows  a  literary  activity  which  is  endless. 
His  brochure  on  conducting  is  naturally  authoritative. 
Wagner's  work  bearing  the  same  title  forms  its  start- 
ing point.  Weingartner,  discussing  the  Wagnerian 
conductors  (he  wrote  in  1895),  frankly  distributes 
praise  and  blame.  His  appreciation  of  Von  Billow  is 
very  marked.  Under  Biilow,  he  says  rightly,  "per- 
formances often  took  place  which  live  in  the  memory 
unforgotten."  After  Wagner's  death,  Biilow  would 
have  been  the  right  man  as  conductor  at  Bayreuth. 
So  says  Weingartner.  But  he  leaves  out  of  consider- 
ation that,  from  personal  grounds,  during  the  last 
years  of  his  life,  it  was  an  impossibility  for  Biilow  to 
take  part  in  the  Bayreuth  work.  For  had  not  Wagner 
wrecked  his  domestic  happiness  and  married  his  di- 
vorced wife? 

Weingartner's  latest  volume  (1913)  is  a  collection 
of  essays,  all  very  interesting  to  the  general  reader. 
Many  varied  subjects  are  treated,  and  the  book  is  full 
of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances.  Perhaps  the  most 
entertaining  of  the  essays  is  that  dealing  with  soloists 
at  symphony  concerts.  Weingartner  first  describes 
the  expectant  attitude  of  the  audience,  wondering  if 
the  singer  is  good-looking,  whether  she  will  wear 
a  light  or  dark  dress.  Her  photograph  shows  her 
adorned  with  a  pearl  necklace.  Will  she  wear  it? 

An  overture  is  played,  and  at  last,  after  exciting  op- 
233 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

enings  and  shuttings  of  the  door  to  the  artists'  room, 
lo,she  comesforth  leaningon  the  arm  of  a  white-gloved 
gentleman.  She  sings  the  "undeservedly  popular 
'Bell'  air  from 'Lakme,'  or  Proch's  Variations,  or  if  she 
wishes  to  be  taken  for  an  admirer  of  the  classics,  an 
air  of  the  Queen  of  Night.  If  her  voice  is  of  heavier 
timbre,  she  will  choose  an  aria  of  Gluck  or  a  song  from 
one  of  Handel's  oratorios.  This  is  certain:  we  hear 
something  that  suits  neither  what  preceded  nor  what 
will  follow."  The  orchestral  modern  composition  that 
comes  before  the  inevitable  group  of  songs  is  heard. 
If  the  composer's  name  be  authoritative,  the  music  will 
be  pronounced  beautiful.  If  the  composer  is  unknown, 
there  will  be  wise  talk  about  dissonances  and  remini- 
scences. Hearts  are  lighter  in  either  case,  for  the  sing- 
er will  now  appear  again.  Songs  by  Schubert,  Schu- 
mann, Brahms  are  grouped  without  care  for  their 
character  or  regard  for  contrast  or  sequence.  Some- 
thing lighter  at  the  end,  something  gushing  by  Tosti 
or  Chaminade,  or  something  "effective"  by  Wolff  or 
Strauss,  arouses  enthusiasm.  Da  capos,  wreaths,  bou- 
quets. "And  if  she  sings  a  'chanson'  or  a  'canzonetta' 
in  a  foreign  language,  enthusiasm  becomes  frenzy." 
Thus  the  cynical  Felix.  He  has  a  gift  of  humour,  and 
can  tell  a  good  story.  On  one  occasion  he  proposed  to 
the  director  of  the  Dantzig  Theatre  to  give  Beethov- 
en's "Fidelio."  "Is  that  another  of  those  trashy  things 
for  which  one  has  to  pay  so  much  for  composer's 

234 


FELIX    WEINGARTNER 

rights?"  inquired  the  director.  "No,"  said  Weingart- 
ner;  "for  'Fidelio'  there  is  nothing  to  pay."  Then  he 
turned  to  go  out.  The  director  called  him  back.  "When 
did  the  composer  of  'Fidelio'  die?"  he  asked.  "In 
1827."  "Very  good;  then  we'll  give 'Fidelio.'" 

Weingartner  has  always  been  rather  out-spoken, 
and  recently  he  expressed  a  desire  to  withdraw  the 
things  he  had  uttered  against  Brahms'  music.  He  says 
he  was  prejudiced  by  the  assertions  of  extreme  sup- 
porters of  Brahms,  who  talked  of  the  three  B's,  and 
linked  him  with  Bach  and  Beethoven.  He  now  finds 
Brahms'  symphony  awelcome  relief  from  the  distract- 
ing elaboration  of  modern  music,  where  he  often  can- 
not see  the  music  for  the  scoring.  His  tendencies  are 
not  wholly  ultra-modern.  "People,"  he  says,  "open 
their  eyes  with  admiration  when  the  name  of  Mozart  is 
mentioned,  but  when  his  works  are  performed,  they 
stay  at  home."  This  is  significant. 

In  England  Weingartner  is  known  chiefly  as  con- 
ductor of  the  Sheffield  Chorus,  in  which  appointment 
he  succeeded  Dr.  Coward.  He  then  confessed  that  no 
choral  singing  in  Germany  touched  the  Sheffield  sing- 
ing; and  he  was  so  enthusiastic  that  he  signed  his 
name  in  the  albums  of  all  the  chorus! 

Energy  and  alertness,  says  one  appreciator,  are 
strong  characteristics  of  this  leader  of  men  and  poetic- 
souled  musician.  His  clear-cut  features  when  in  re- 
pose might  convey  the  impression  of  a  stern  nature 
235 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

beneath  that  pale  face;  but  no  one  can  laugh  more 
heartily  than  he,  and  the  smile  that  now  and  again 
brightens  his  countenance  is  one  that  is  not  easily  for- 
gotten. His  hobbies — he  took  a  keen  delight  in  adding 
this  word  to  his  limited  English  vocabulary — are  walk- 
ing and  mountain-climbing ;  "and  I  love  the  classics, 
Beethoven  and  the  rest,"  he  says. 


XLI.  SIR  HENRY  J.  WOOD 

IN  MOST  PEOPLE'S  EYES,  SIR  HENRY  J. 
Wood's  rank  is  with  the  very  first  of  living  conductors. 
There  are  some  who  violently  disapprove  of  his  inter- 
pretations of  the  great  classics;  some  also  disapprove 
of  his  programmes.  But  no  one  can  deny  his  immense 
vitality,  his  complete  control  over  his  resources,  and 
the  great  service  he  has  done  to  music  in  England  by 
his  readiness  to  secure  a  hearing  of  unfamiliar  works, 
and  especially  of  the  works  of  British  composers.  It 
is  his  opinion,  emphatically  expressed,  that  our  young 
composers  are  splendid  and  better  than  those  of  any 
other  nationality. 

Sir  Henry  is  one  of  the  best  all-round  men  among 
British  musicians.  He  has  proved  himself  not  onlyas  a 
conductor,  but  as  a  composer  of  distinction,  an  organ- 
ist of  ability,  and  a  vocal  teacher  of  unusual  success. 
And  all  this  he  has  accomplished  in  a  very  short  time, 
for  he  is  still  a  comparatively  young  man,  having  been 
born  in  London  in  1870.  His  father  was  a  good  amat- 
eur 'cellist,  and  for  twenty-five  years  solo  tenor  at  the 
Church  of  St.  Sepulchre,  E.G.,  while  his  mother  (of 
Welsh  origin)  was  a  charming  singer. 

Precocious  he was,almost  likethe  precocityof  Moz- 
art, for  when  only  six  he  could  play  pieces  by  the 
earlier  classical  masters.  He  took  to  the  organ,  too, 
and  at  seventeen  was  appointed  organist  and  choir- 
master of  St.  John's,  Fulham.  The  general  public  first 
noticed  his  gifts  as  an  organist  from  his  playing  at 
237 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

several  of  the  exhibitions,  beginning  with  the  Fish- 
eries' in  1883,  when  he  was  announced  as  "Master 
Henry  J.  Wood." 

Sir  Henry  put  in  six  terms  as  a  student  at  the 
R.A.M.,  where  he  gained  four  medals.  For  a  time 
he  thought  of  devoting  himself  to  composition,  but 
several  engagements  with  choral  societies  and  opera 
companies  proved  to  him  that  he  would  do  better  to 
give  his  attention  to  conducting.  In  this  character  he 
made  his  bow  to  a  London  audience  at  the  Avenue 
Theatre,  where  it  was  his  proud  privilege  to  direct  a 
specimen  of  that  form  of  art  which  has  since  grown  so 
dear  to  thegreat  heart  of  the  English  people — the  mus- 
ical farce.  That  the  course  he  took  showed  modesty 
need  not  be  argued;  that  it  showed  wisdom  will  also 
be  immediately  evident  to  any  one  who  will  take  the 
trouble  to  reflect  for  five  seconds  that  the  business  of 
a  director  of  so  small  an  orchestra  as  the  orchestraem- 
ployed  at  the  average  comic  opera  is  first,  and  indeed 
chiefly,  to  accompany  well;  and,  secondly  to  get  as 
many  pretty  effects  as  possible  with  very  limited 
means.  Now,  to  accompany  really  well  on  the  orches- 
tra is  one  of  the  hardest  things  in  the  world.  It  pre- 
supposes complete  command  of  the  band.  The  music- 
ian who — like  the  conductor  at  a  light  operetta  or  a 
musical  burlesque — must  learn  to  achieve  it,  is  faced 
at  the  outset  by  the  necessity  of  mastering  his  men. 

No  posturing  calculated  to  awe  and  deceive  the  coun- 

238 


SIR    HENRY    J.    WOOD 

try  cousin,  no  wild  wagglings  of  the  stick  that  take  in 
no  one — not  one  of  the  thousand  devices  under  which 
the  non-conductor  disguises  his  lack  of  skill — is  of  the 
slightest  avail;  the  conductor  must  on  the  one  hand 
acquire  the  knack  of  beating  time  so  that  his  bands- 
men know  what  he  wants,  and  make  them  understand 
that  they  must  do  it,  and  so  succeed;  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  learns  nothing,  and  fails. 

Mr.  Wood  gained  immensely  by  his  varied  experi- 
ence, and  now  we  have  to  look  upon  him  as  one  of  our 
first  English  conductors,  and  one  of  the  ablest  con- 
ductors in  Europe.  He  has  not,  perhaps,  the  distinct- 
ive individuality  of  certain  other  notable  conductors 
but  as  an  interpreter  of  the  great  music  he  is  certainly 
in  the  front  rank.  He  forms  a  very  clear  idea  of  the 
result  he  wants,  and  rehearses  enthusiastically  till  he 
gets  it;  and  if  in  the  heat  of  playing  to  an  audience  he 
is  inspired  to  modify  his  previous  conception,  he  has 
the  trick  of  telling  his  men  by  his  gestures  in  what  way 
it  is  to  be  modified. 

His  rehearsals  are  particularly  interesting.  Says  a 
writer  in  the  Musical  Times,  to  whom  I  am  much  in- 
debted here: 

"No  gifts  of  insight,  no  skill  in  conducting,  are  of 
much  avail  unless  they  are  allied  to  the  power  to  re- 
hearse scientifically.  No  one  familiar  with  Sir  Henry 
Wood's  methods  of  work  can  fail  to  note  that  a  large 
measure  of  his  success  is  due  to  his  extraordinary 
239 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

punctiliousness  at  rehearsals  and  in  preparing  for 
them.  He  leaves  nothing  to  chance,  and  will  con- 
stantlyspend  hours  overhand  parts  in  order  to  ensure 
their  correctness  in  every  particular — phrasing,  dyn- 
amic directions,  &c.  How  often  it  is  that  young  com- 
posers, and  even  composers  who  are  old  enough  to 
know  better,  upset  a  rehearsal  and  the  possibility  of 
the  success  of  their  work  by  providing  band  parts  that 
have  to  be  corrected  on  the  orchestra!  A  two  hours' 
rehearsal  of  a  full  orchestra  costs  .£50 — that  is,  about 
8s.  6d.  a  minute.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  occupied  in  cor- 
recting and  otherwise  dallying  wastes  £6,  5 s.  Wood 
has  2500  works  in  his  library,  every  one  of  which  he 
has  personally  edited.  He  has  himself  scored  125  arias 
for  use  at  the  Promenade  Concerts  and  elsewhere. 
Modern  scoring  is  frequently  too  thick  for  solo  singers. 
Sir  Henry  says  that  he  bears  in  mind  Phil  May's  plan 
of  drawing  his  pictures,in  which,  after  employing  say 
sixty  lines,  he  eliminates  forty." 

In  1895  Queen's  Hall  was  built,  and  theyoung  mus- 
ician was  engaged  to  conduct  a  series  of  Promenade 
Concerts.  An  opportunity  presented  itself — a  golden 
one,  as  it  turned  out — and  there  was  the  man,  ready  to 
hand,  and  with  the  ability  to  make  the  most  of  it. 
Whathe  has  since  accomplished  is  known  to  the  whole 
musical  world.  He  has  gradually  taught  the  greater 
public  to  appreciate  and  enjoy  works  which  before  his 
time  interested  only  professional  musicians  and  educ- 
ated amateurs. 

The  arrangement  of  the  instruments  in  the  Queen's 
Hall  Orchestra  is  unusual:  all  the  violins  (ist  and  2nd) 

240 


SIR   HENRY  J,  WOOD 


SIR    HENRY    J.    WOOD 

are  on  the  left,  and  the  violas  take  the  customary  place 
of  the  second  violins  on  the  right.  The  wood-wind 
occupy  the  centre  of  the  orchestra,  the  brass  and  per- 
cussion being  ranged  above  them.  The  'cellos  and 
basses  are  all  on  the  right  side,  near  the  violas.  This 
arrangement  is  explained  by  the  desirability  of  group- 
ing the  instruments  that  generally  work  together  in  an 
ensemble,  and,  besides,  it  facilitates  the  giving  of  cues 
and  economises  time  at  rehearsals.  The  underlying 
justification  for  any  rational  disposition  of  the  orches- 
tral forces  is  that  it  enables  the  conductor  to  control 
them  and  theplayers  to  work  in  unity.  If  therewere  no 
conductor  to  consider,  and  no  desire  for  perfect  en- 
semble, something  might  be  said  for  Spontini's  sug- 
gestion that  the  string  and  wind  players  should  mix 
miscellaneously  in  order  that  the  tone  might  blend. 
Next  to  his  conducting,  it  is  perhaps  as  a  vocal 
teacher  and  trainer  that  Sir  Henry  is  most  successful. 
The  only  musical  subject  on  which  he  gives  private  in- 
struction is  singing.  He  states  that  he  studied  under 
seventeen  teachers  of  singing,  and  that  from  only  two, 
Duvivier  and  Manuel  Garcia,  did  he  derive  any  real 
benefit.  He  says  that  the  vowel  "oo,"  so  much  used 
in  voice-training,  is  only  fit  for  dogs  and  wolves!  He 
is  very  particular  about  enunciation.  In  an  address  to 
the  chorus  of  the  Sheffield  Festival,  he  once  said: 

"Now  for  your  greatest  fault!  Words!  Words  are 
your  masters!  When  you  go  and  hear  a  bad  comic 
241  Q 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

opera  in  the  theatre,  and  you  listen  with  rapt  attention 
to  the  principal  comedian,  what  attracts  you?  'You 
are  able  without  effort  to  hear  every  word  he  sings'— 
therein  lies  the  pleasure.  You  forget  that  he  has  no 
voice.  Now,  think,  when  you  are  singing  choruses  at 
the  next  festival  what  a  delight  to  the  public  it  will  be 
if  they  can  hear  every  word." 

No  doubt  Sir  Henry's  experience  in  the  department 
of  solo-singing  has  helped  him  to  secure  the  cantabile 
— the  singing  tone  and  style — that  so  often  character- 
ises his  orchestral  readings.  He  makes  the  complaint, 
often  heard  in  these  times,  that  solo  singers  are  train- 
ed in  a  lopsided  fashion,  devoting  years  to  produc- 
tion and  "placing,"  and  omitting  to  make  themselves 
musicians. 

It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  a  man  who  takes  his 
professional  work  so  seriously  can  find  time  for  recre- 
ation. Yet  Sir  Henry  has  other  than  musical  interests 
and  occupations,  the  most  notable  of  which  is  a  pas- 
sion for  oil-painting.  In  his  boyhood  he  showed  some 
capacity  in  this  direction,  and  his  father  desired  him 
to  become  a  painter.  But  music  was  to  triumph.  In 
1898  Sir  Henry  married  a  Russian  lady,  the  Princess 
Olga  Ouronsuff,  a  finished  artist  in  many  types  of  song 
and  in  many  languages,  who  had  been  one  of  his  sing- 
ing pupils.  Much  sympathy  was  expressed  for  him 
when  she  died  in  1909. 


XLII.  LANDON  RONALD 

"  I  AM  ONE  OF  THOSE  UNFORTUNATE  MEN 
who  work  during  fifty  Sundays  out  of  the  fifty-two," 
said  Mr.  Landon  Ronald  recently.  "Sometimes  I  am 
engaged  with  rehearsing  from  ten  to  one,  followed  by 
a  concert  in  the  afternoon,  and  another  at  night,  and 
entailing  practically  nine  hours'  conducting."  Fancy 
waving  the  baton  for  nine  hours!  But  Mr.  Ronald  is 
a  young  man,  and  hard  work  is  like  a  tonic  to  him. 

He  has  told  us  a  lot  about  himself  at  one  time  and 
another.  It  seems  that  his  ideal  as  a  boy  was  to  be  a 
"funnyman,"  likeGrossmith  and Corney Grain.  From 
the  age  of  five,  however,  there  was  no  doubt  of  his  des- 
tiny towards  music.  Hismothergave  himhisfirst  piano 
lessons, and  otherwise  guided  and  fostered  his  talents. 
Oddly  enough,  considering  his  later  strenuous  life,  he 
was  a  lazy  boy,  and  would  not  practise.  When  four- 
teen he  wanted  to  abandon  playing  and  become  a  con- 
ductor, a  composer,  and  a  music  critic.  His  mother 
would  not  hear  of  it,  and  he  was  kept  at  his  private 
studies  until  sent  to  the  R.C.M.  He  left  that  institu- 
tion,while  still  under  seventeen,"as  an  excellent  pian- 
ist,a  fair  violinist,  and  a  composerof  some  pretty  songs, 
and  equipped  with  a  large  knowledge  of  the  orchestra 
and  orchestral  music  through  having  played  first  violin 
in  the  college  orchestra  for  a  considerable  period." 

It  will  be  best  to  let  himself  tell  of  his  first  engage- 
ment. He  says: 

"My  first  engagement  followed  soon  after  I  left  col- 
243 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

lege,  and  came  about  thus.  I  received  a  letter  from  a 
fellow-student  saying  that  he  heard  that  a  pianist  was 
wanted  to  play  the  difficult  pianoforte  part  in  'L'En- 
fant  Prodigue/  the  musical  play  without  words  which 
was  then  at  the  height  of  its  success  at  the  Prince  of 
Wales'  Theatre,  and  would  I  go  to  see  Mr.  Alfred  Moul 
in  Sackville  Street  about  it. 

"I  attended  the  trial  which  was  to  be  held  next  day 
at  the  theatre.  The  composer  was  there,  poor  Charles 
Lauri,  Mr.  Moul,  and  about  twenty  other  poor  devils 
of  pianists,  one  worse  than  another!  My  turn  came, 
and  I  played  very  well  a  Liszt  Rhapsody.  My  triumph 
was  immediate,  and  I  was  at  once  made  to  play  from 
sight  some  of  'L'Enfant  Prodigue.'  Poor  Lauri  so 
completely  lost  his  head  that  in  a  loud  whisper  I  heard 
him  tell  Moul  not  to  let  me  go  out  of  the  theatre,  and 
to  settle  with  me  there  and  then. 

"I  had  no  idea  of  my  value,  and  scarcely  realised 
what  a  salary  meant.  Whatever  I  got  I  knew  I  should 
have  for  pocket-money,  and  before  I  overheard  Lauri's 
remark  I  began  to  see  visions  of  two  golden  sover- 
eigns per  week  to  spend  as  I  liked!  When  Moul  event- 
ually, however,  began  talking  terms,  and  got  me  into 
a  corner  by  insisting  on  my  stating  how  much  per 
week  I  required,  without  a  moment's  hesitation  I  an- 
swered 'ten  pounds.'  What  possessed  me  to  do  so,  or 
how  I  had  the  effrontery,  still  remains  a  mystery  to 
me,  and  when  I  was  offered  eight  instead  of  being 
kicked  out  of  the  theatre,  I  was  scarcely  able  to  find 
my  voice  to  say  'Yes.'" 

He  played  "L'Enfant  Prodigue"  over  400  times. 

Then  he  determined  he  would  be  a  conductor.    But  he 

244 


LANDON    RONALD 

was  notyet  done  with  the  piano.  Sir  Augustus  Harris, 
indeed,  engaged  him  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre  as 
maestro  del  piano.  Afterwards  he  was  sent  by  Harris 
on  a  sixmonths'  tourwith  a  company.  The  tourproved 
a  failure,  but  it  gave  the  young  musician  a  lot  of  valu- 
able experience. 

Presently  he  met  Mme.  Melba,  who  asked  him  to 
study  Massenet's  "Manon"  with  her.  He  studied  the 
vocal  score  all  night,  without  going  to  bed,  and  arrived 
at  Melba's  hotel  at  IO  o'clock  next  morning,  knowing 
the  work  practically  by  heart.  The  singer  became  en- 
thusiastic during  the  rehearsal,  and  said,  as  Mr.  Ron- 
ald left  her:  "  Don't  forget  that  you  are  Melba's  accom- 
panist everywhere."  He  speaks  in  glowing  terms  of 
Melba's  interest  in  him  when  he  was  thus  starting  out 
on  his  career;  emphasizing  especially  her  taking  him 
to  America  tobe  her  accompanist  on  an  extensive  tour. 

In  1896  and  1897  he  conducted  English  Opera  at 
Drury  Laneand  Grand  Opera  at  Covent  Garden,  being 
probably  the  only  Englishman  of  twenty-one  who  has 
ever  done  so.  In  addition,  he  was  much  engaged  as 
accompanist  to  many  of  the  great  singers,  and  was 
composing  songs  which,  he  says,  had  but  a  small,  if 
any  sale. 

On  the  formation  of  the  London  Symphony  Orches- 
tra, Mr.  Ronald's  services  became  much  more  in  de- 
mand for  serious  concert  work,  and,  after  conducting 

concerts  of  all  kinds  for  this  orchestra,  he  was  invited 
245 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

to  go  to  Berlin  to  conduct  the  famous  Berlin  Philhar- 
monic Orchestra.  There  he  achieved  one  of  the  big- 
gest successes  ever  gained  for  a  foreigner,  and  never 
before  equalled  by  a  Britisher.  The  critics  were  loud 
in  his  praise.  One  of  the  chief  wrote  of  him  that:  "He 
combines  the  qualities  of  our  greatest  conductors, 
such  as  Weingartner,  Mahler,  and  Nikisch."  Mr. Ron- 
ald repeated  this  exceptional  success  in  Vienna,  Leip- 
zig, Amsterdam  and  Bremen;  and  in  fact  wherever  he 
appeared  there  was  nothing  but  a  chorus  of  extrava- 
gant praise,  and  he  was  hailed  as  one  of  the  greatest 
living  conductors. 

This  reception  abroad  seemed  to  have  brought 
things  to  a  head  in  his  own  country,  and  work  began 
to  flow  in  upon  him.  He  soon  discovered,  however, 
that  to  make  a  personal  success  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  have  an  orchestra  of  his  own,  and  as  an  excep- 
tionally fine  body  of  instrumentalists  called  the  "New 
Symphony  Orchestra"  were  seeking  a  conductor,  it 
was  soon  arranged  that  Mr.  Ronald  should  be  their 
man.  Since  he  has  assumed  this  position  both  he  and 
the  orchestra  have  taken  a  leading  part  in  the  musical 
life  of  London,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  at 
the  present  moment  this  combination  has  most  of  the 
chief  work  there.  They  are  engaged  to  appear  every 
Sunday  at  the  Royal  Albert  Hall,  and  do  a  great  deal 
ofwork  on  Sundayeveningswith  the  National  Sunday 

League.  Besides  his  work  in  London,  Mr.  Ronald  is  in 

246 


LANDON    RONALD 

great  demand  in  the  provinces,  and  conducts  from  time 
to  time  such  organisations  as  the  Scottish  Orchestra, 
the  Bradford  Permanent  Orchestra,&c.  For  the  past  six 
years  he  has  directed  a  season  of  Promenade  Concerts 
at  Birmingham,  and  still  continues  his  Blackpool  Sun- 
day Symphony  Concerts  duringAugustandSeptember. 

Mr.  Ronald  strenuously  upholds  the  claim  of  British 
composers  to  a  hearing.  Moreover,  in  the  interests  of 
the  people,  he  struck  for  cheaper  seats  at  the  New 
Symphony  concerts.  He  would  like  to  make  the  cheap- 
est seats  sixpence,  but  the  lessors  will  not  allow  him 
to.  Cheap  prices  and  no  free  tickets,  is  his  motto.  He 
thinks  that  the  reason  why  London  concerts  are  so 
badly  attended  is  that  there  are  too  many  free  tickets 
about.  A  recital  to  introduce  a  new  artist  costs  ^30  to 
£60;  an  orchestral  concert  four  times  as  much.  The 
receipts,  if  the  concert-giver  is  unknown,  seldom  reach 
£10,  the  audience  getting  free  tickets.  This  gets  the 
public  into  the  habit  of  having  free  seats,  and  holding 
back  from  the  best  concerts. 

He  has  an  acute  sense  of  absolute  pitch,  and  a  phe- 
nomenal memory  for  music.  He  memorised  Elgar's 
symphony  for  the  occasion  of  his  notable  perform- 
ance of  that  work  with  the  New  Symphony  Orchestra 
at  Queen's  Hall,  and  he  conducted  it  practically  with- 
out score,  although  the  score  was  placed  on  the  desk 
to  avoid  suspicion  of  pose. 

Mr.  Ronald  does  not  indulge  in  muchphysical  exer- 
247 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

cise  in  conducting.  He  gains  his  control  by  the  firm- 
ness of  his  manner,  and  the  certainty  of  his  beat.  In 
an  address  delivered  recently,  he  advised  the  would- 
be  conductor  to  hear  all  kinds  of  conductors,  as  well 
as  to  learn  everything  worth  in  music.  "Obtain,  if 
possible,  permission  to  be  present  at  rehearsal.  Gain 
experience  under  any  conditions.  Rough  it  at  first. 
Go  on  tour  with  comic  opera,  and  get  the  rough  experi- 
ence of  accompanying  singers  in  that  way.  Then  let 
young  conductors  be  ready  when  a  vacancy  occurred 
at  a  seaside  or  inland  watering-place.  Here  they  could 
get  their  experience  in  a  classical  and  a  popular  repert- 
oire. Don't  let  them  attempt  to  conduct  great  orches- 
tras in  great  cities  until  they  could  do  themselves  just- 
ice. They  might  fool  the  public  by  outward  show,  but 
they  couldn't  fool  the  orchestra  or  the  real  critics. 
They  might  begin  with  Strauss,  Debussy,  Tschaikow- 
sky,  and  even  some  of  Wagner,  but  let  them  beware 
of  Bach,  Beethoven,  and  Brahms  until  the  very  end  of 
all  things,  and  only  when  they  had  been  years  at  the 
game,  and  when  they  were  sufficient  masters  of  them- 
selves to  forget  their  technique." 

According  to  Mr.  Ronald,  "What  shall  we  do  with 
our  pianists?"  is  the  urgent  question  of  the  day.  The 
schools  of  music,  he  remarks,  do  incalculable  harm  by 
turning  outhundreds  of  third-rate  pianists  everyyear. 
"Piano-playing  is  absolutely  overdone.  We  want  a 

school  which  will  refuse  to  take  piano  students  unless 

248 


P!u>tetr*4h  ky  Dfitr  Strrit  Stitdits. 
LANDON   RONALD 


LANDON    RONALD 

they  show  unmistakable  signs  of  talent."  This  is  true. 
Look  down  the  list  of  some  of  the  most  prominent  lady 
pianists  now  before  the  public.  The  list  should  prove 
sufficiently  long  to  dampen  the  ardour  of  those  intend- 
ing to  adopt  piano-playing  as  a  profession,  and  deter 
them  from  carrying  out  their  intention.  But  w/z7/they? 
Not  likely! 

Mr.  Ronald  was  very  proud  of  his  appointment  to 
the  Principalship  of  the  Guildhall  School  of  Music  in 
1910 — an  appointment  which  some  regarded  as  a 
backhander  for  the  "Academics,"  inasmuch  as  Mr. 
Ronalddoes  not  appear  to  have  passed  an  examination 
in  music.  A  few  did  not  hesitate  to  predict  the  suicide 
of  a  career.  But  Mr.  Ronald  believed  that  in  accept- 
ing this  post  he  could  do  a  great  deal  to  further  the 
cause  of  English  music.  He  set  out  with  the  aim  to 
create  for  the  Guildhall  School  a  reputation  that  would 
command  the  respect  of  musicians  the  world  over.  "  I 
see  no  reason,"  he  said  at  the  time, "  why  the  Guildhall 
School  of  Music  should  not  equal  in  excellence  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Music  and  the  Royal  College  of 
Music.  These  establishments  I  hold  to  be  every  bit  as 
good  as  any  on  the  Continent.  You  have  a  few  illus- 
trious men  at  the  various  Continental  schools,  but 
masters  like  Sir  Charles  Stanford,  for  composition,  at 
the  Royal  College,  and  Tobias  Matthay,  for  piano,  at 
the  Royal  Academy,  in  any  other  country  would  be 

considered  equally  brilliant." 
249 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

The  G.S.M.  post  is  worth  £1000  a  year.  According 
to  all  reports,  the  school  has  already  shown  enormous 
progress  during  Mr.  Ronald's  reign. 

As  a  composer  of  songs,  there  is  perhaps  no  Eng- 
lishman better  known  to-day.  But  he  has  also  written 
several  works  for  orchestra:  a  Birthday  Overture, and 
two  of  the  most  successful  Ballets  ever  produced  at 
the  Alhambra  Theatre.  He  was  several  times  at  Bal- 
moral and  Windsor  by  "command"  of  Queen  Victoria. 
And  he  is  very  complimentary  to  Queen  Alexandra. 
"Her  love  of  good  music,"  he  says,  "is  as  striking  as 
her  unequalled  charm  of  manner.  Sometimes  Her  Maj- 
esty sends  for  me  to  play  for  her  privately,  and  on 
such  occasions  she  asks  for  excerpts  from  her  favour- 
ite operas,  'La  Boheme'  and  'Die  Meistersingers.'  It 
is  indeed  a  pleasure  to  perform  to  such  a  listener." 
Happy  Landon  Ronald! 


CHAPTER  XLIII.  SAFONOFF 

SAFONOFF  IS  FAMILIARLY  KNOWN  AS 
"the  batonless  conductor."  He  uses  no  baton,  and  says 
he  finds  that  this  keeps  him  in  closer  contact  with  the  or- 
chestra. "I  have  ten  batons,"  he  once  remarked,  spread- 
ing out  his  fingers.  It  all  came  of  his  forgetfulness  to 
bring  his  baton  to  one  of  his  rehearsals.  Wishing  to 
lose  no  time,he  began  conductingwith  his  handsalone, 
and  succeeded  so  well  that  he  never  again  returned  to 
the  usual  method.  He  predicts  that  in  a  few  years 
there  will  be  no  baton  conductors. 

One  is  not  so  sure.  M.  Safonoff  chiefly  directs  with 
both  hands  simultaneously,  and  two  hands  must  be 
more  difficult  for  the  eye  to  follow  than  one  stick.  It 
is  true  that  conductors  frequently  use  the  left  hand,  but 
this  is  recognised  as  calling  particular  attention  to  ex- 
pression, while  the  baton  is  looked  to  chiefly  for  the 
"beat."  Again,  the  baton  gives  the  beats  in  each  bar 
distinctly,  whereas  M.  Safonoff  principally  confines 
himself  to  accentuation,  stress,  marking  the  rhythm  of 
the  phrases,  and  shadings  of  tonal  strength.  This  is 
doubtless  sufficient  for  highly-trained  musicians,  and 
it  has  the  great  advantage  of  fixing  the  player's  atten- 
tion more  on  what  may  be  termed  the  living  pulse  and 
spirit  of  the  music  than  on  its  subdivision  into  mech- 
anical beats,  but  one  questions  if  the  method  would 
answer  with  a  "scratch"  band  or  a  large  choral  force 
such  as  the  Handel  Festival  chorus. 

In  the  south  of  the  great  Russian  Empire,  on  the 
251 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

northern  side  of  the  Caucasus,  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  the  steppes  of  the  Tersky  district  extend  into 
the  far  distance.  They  are  inhabited  by  Cossacks,  a 
strong,  brave,  and  spirited  Slavonic  race,  loving  their 
steppes,  their  homes,  their  horses,  and  all  kinds  of  out- 
door exercise.  They  dwell  principally  in  villages,  sur- 
rounded by  vineyards,  orchards,  and  fields  which  yield 
an  abundant  harvest.  Living  in  close  companionship 
with  nature,  their  steppes,  a  predisposition  to  fantast- 
ic dreams  is  highly  developed  in  them.  Poetry  lives 
in  their  hearts,  and  their  beautiful  songs  form  convinc- 
ing proof  of  their  genuine  musical  nature. 

In  this  country  Wassili  Safonoffwas  born  in  Janu- 
ary 1 852, in  the  village  of  Itshory  in  theTersky  district. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  famous  Cossack  general,  and  en- 
tered the  Alexander  Lyceum  at  St.  Petersburg,  where 
only  sons  of  aristocratic  families  are  received.  There 
he  had  the  advantage  of  learning  music  under  Lesche- 
titzky.  On  leaving  the  school  he  continued  his  musical 
studies  and  applied  himself  to  them  more  seriously.  At 
the  St.  Petersburg  Conservatoire,  in  1 880,  as  pupil  of 
the  famous  pianist  Brassin,  he  won  a  gold  medal,  the 
highest  distinction  of  the  institution.  From  this  time 
Safonoff  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  music,  made 
concert  tours  as  pianist  with  his  friend  Davidoff,  the 
well-known  'cellist,  and  was  teacher  of  the  piano  in 
the  St.  Petersburg  Conservatoire  until  1885,  when  he 
was  offered  a  professorship  at  Moscow,  where  he  re- 
mained till  1905. 

252 


SAFONOFF 

His  activity  increased  everyday.  He  became  direct- 
or of  the  Conservatoire  and  of  the  Imperial  Russian 
Musical  Society;  conductor  of  the  Symphonic  Con- 
certs; and  organised  an  independent  choir  and  or- 
chestra composed  of  artists  and  pupils  of  the  Conserv- 
atoire. One  of  his  greatest  achievements  was  the 
building  of  the  new  Moscow  Conservatoire,  which 
cost  about  a  million  roubles,  and  owes  its  existence 
solely  to  his  energy  and  efforts. 

Safonoff  is  a  gifted  pianist.  But  the  limits  of  the 
piano  were  too  narrow  for  him:  he  wanted  a  larger 
medium  of  expression.  He  began  his  conductorship 
by  organising  orchestral  concerts  for  the  masses  at 
low  prices  in  a  circus  building,  which  was  always  over- 
crowded. His  handling  of  the  orchestra  was  already 
characterised  by  a  glowing  temperament  and  a  high 
order  of  musical  and  artistic  intelligence.  As  conduct- 
or of  the  Symphonic  Concerts  he  further  developed  his 
exceptionally  high  gifts;  his  style  became  broader, 
more  clean-cut,  and  masterly.  He  is  not  a  successor 
of  any  one  of  his  great  predecessors;  he  has  his  own 
way  of  interpreting  classical  masters  and  modern  com- 
posers, and  this  he  does  in  a  manner  which  commands 
approval. 

In  engaging  Safonoff  as  their  conductor,  in  1906, 
the  New  York  Philharmonic  Society  said:  "Our  need 
is  for  a  musician  who  will  stand  firmly  for  artistic  truth, 
and  who  will  so  vitalise  for  us  the  meaning  of  music 
253 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

that  music  will  become  to  us  a  force  in  our  daily  lives." 
The  committee  were  paying  him  .£4000  a  year  to  get 
this,  and — they  got  it. 

In  1 896, during  the  coronation  festivals  at  Moscow, 
Safonoff  had  an  opportunity  of  showing  his  splendid 
mastery,intensity,  and  virility  as  a  conductor;  he  led  a 
chorus  of  about  700  singers.  Another  performance 
was  arranged  in  the  fields,  in  which  2500  singers, 
seven  military  bands,  bells  on  three  towers  especially 
erected  for  the  occasion,  and  thirty-two  cannons  took 
part.  His  vigorous  hand  held  them  all  in  perfect  order. 
On  the  looth  anniversary  of  the  Russian  poet  Poush- 
kin's  birth  in  1898,  Ippolitow  Ivanoff  composed  a  can- 
tata, to  which  Safonoff  wrote  the  words.  There  were 
again  performances  by  large  orchestras  and  choruses, 
which  achieved  such  success  that  Safonoff  was  obliged 
to  give  six  encores  of  the  cantata. 

Safonoff  is  well  known  all  over  the  musical  world, 

for  he  has  conducted  in  all  the  leading  capitals,  and 

has  won  for  himself  the  esteem  of  all  good  judges.   A 

photograph  shows  him  with  his  wife  and  their  eight 

children,  all  standing  in  a  row. 


XLIV.  MICHAEL  BALLING 

IT  IS  SUFFICIENT  EVIDENCE  OF  THE  GIFTS 
of  Michael  Balling  that  he  was  chosen  to  succeed 
Richter  as  conductor  of  the  Halle'  Orchestra  in  Man- 
chester. Soon  after  his  appointment  to  that  post  a 
musical  journalist  wrote:  "He  has  shown  himself  a 
strong  man  of  affairs,  and  entirely  changed  the  aspect 
of  musical  life  in  Manchester.  He  has  ventured  to  dis- 
turb Manchester'swell-known  satisfaction  with  itself  in 
musical  matters,  and  wounded  where  it  had  most  pride." 
The  point  of  this  may  be  found  in  the  report  of  a 
speech  which  Balling  made  to  the  guarantors  of  the 
Halle"  concerts.  He  said  that  on  the  evening  before 
his  last  concert  the  whole  of  the  band  had  been  play- 
ing at  a  concert  at  Newcastle-on-Tyne.  They  took 
train  immediately  after,  and  reached  Manchester  at 
4.30  A.M.  Seven  hours  later  they  appeared  in  the  Free 
Trade  Hall  for  rehearsal  so  tired  that  the  rehearsal  of 
Bruckner's  Ninth  Symphony  was  a  failure.  They  had 
had  one  rehearsal  before  in  a  hall  so  small  that  the 
players  received  only  a  confused  impression  of  the 
work.  There  was  no  combined  rehearsal  of  orchestra 
and  chorus.  At  the  performance  the  players  were  so 
cramped  and  the  lighting  was  so  bad  that  false  and 
late  entries  were  inevitable,  and  the  performance  left 
much  to  be  desired.  Mr.  Balling  described  these  con- 
ditions as  "abominable," and  pleaded  for  more  money, 
so  that  things  might  be  done  on  a  more  ample  scale. 
The  guarantors,  he  held,  should  subscribe  something 
255 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

each  year,  as  they  have  only  been  called  upon  twice  in 
thirteen  years.  Thus  Mr.  Balling  has  prevailed  upon 
a  committee  which  has  long  thought  it  a  duty,  almost 
an  ideal,  to  preserve  a  square  balance  sheet,  to  adopt 
an  artistic  policy  that  may  involve  the  society  in  an 
estimated  loss  of  £i OCX)  on  the  season's  twenty  con- 
certs, and  an  alteration  of  its  articles  of  association  in 
consonance  with  this  policy. 

Clearly,  Mr.  Balling  has  become  a  power  in  English 
musical  life.  Of  all  the  great  conductors  dealt  with  in 
this  section,  his  fame  has  been  the  most  recently  ac- 
quired. It  was  only  when  he  conducted  Mr.  Denhof's 
performances  of  the  "Ring"  in  Edinburgh  and  the 
North  of  England  in  1910  that  he  became  well  known 
here;  and  it  was  his  popularity  on  his  appearance  at 
Manchester  in  this  connection  that  virtually  assured 
him  succession  to  Richter,  whose  personal  friend  he 
had  long  been. 

Balling's  career  is  interesting.  He  has  literally 
risen  from  the  ranks.  His  people  were  very  poor,  and 
he  boasts  of  it.  He  was  born  at  Heidingsfeld,  near 
Wurzburg,in  Bavaria,  in  1866,  when  the  battle  around 
Wiirzburg  was  raging  between  the  Bavarians  and 
the  Prussians.  His  father  was  a  lithographer  in  the 
employ  of  the  Government  at  £4  per  month,  and  had 
also  a  small  grocery  business,  looked  after  chiefly  by 
his  wife.  Balling  was  the  youngest  of  six  children, 

and  his  father  died  when  he  was  twelve. 

256 


BAI.l  ING 


MICHAEL    BALLING 

He  went  only  to  the  village  school,  and  was  intended 
first  for  a  shoemaker.  "There's  nothing  like  leather," 
he  says  humorously,  "but  I  did  not  feel  inclined  that 
way."  He  had  a  good  voice  as  a  boy,  and  sang  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  which  his  parents  attended. 
The  schoolmaster  therefore  suggested  that  he  should 
have  a  musical  training,  and  he  obtained  entrance  as  a 
free  student  at  the  Wiirzburg  Royal  School  of  Music. 
Here  he  studied  the  viola  as  his  chief  instrument,  and 
after  four  years  was  awarded  a  viola  of  the  Italian 
model  as  a  prize  from  King  Ludwig  II.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  his  first  public  position  was  as  a  viola  player  in 
the  Mainz  Municipal  Orchestra. 

He  worked  hard  in  untimely  hours  to  pass  the  ex- 
aminations that  would  exempt  him  for  two  of  his  three 
years'  military  service,  and  succeeded.  He  obtained 
the  necessary  position  that  would  give  him  a  secure 
livelihood,  as  viola  player  in  the  Schwerin  Court  Or- 
chestra. He  met  Rubinstein,  and  played  his  viola 
sonata  with  him  in  public.  He  met  Brahms,  and  played 
with  him,  too;  also  with  Aloys  Schmidt,  of  pedagogic 
fame. 

During  his  year  of  military  duty  work  was  some- 
what severe.  One  day  he  was  at  military  exercise  at 
4  A.M.;  rehearsing  the  viola  solo  of  "  Harold  in  Italy" 
with  the  orchestra  at  1 1;  back  to  barracks  from  2  till 
6;  and  in  evening  dress  ready  to  begin  the  solo  with 
the  orchestra  at  7. 
257  R 


MODERN   MUSICIANS 

From  Schwerin  Balling  obtained  his  first  invitation 
to  join  the  Bayreuth  orchestra.  He  was  its  youngest 
member;  and  when,  on  no  one  starting  a  viola  solo  in 
"Tristan,"  he  began,  Mottl,  the  conductor,  thought  so 
much  of  his  playing  that  he  placed  him  at  the  leader's 
desk.  He  was  asked  to  play  also  at  Frau  Wagner's 
soirees. 

Then  came  an  unexpected  episode  in  his  career.  He 
was  asked  to  proceed  to  New  Zealand  in  place  of  an- 
other musician,  ostensibly  to  found  a  College  of  Music. 
He  booked  a  passage  in  the  ill-fated  Weirrarapa,  but 
at  the  request  of  the  Austrian  consul,  delayed  his  pass- 
age two  days.  When  he  got  to  Auckland,  he  found 
the  flags  at  half-mast,  and  learned  that  the  Weirra- 
rapa  had  gone  down  with  all  her  three  hundred  pass- 
engers. In  the  newspapers  he  read  his  own  name 
among  the  list  of  the  dead. 

His  destination  was  Nelson,  a  place  of  15,000  in- 
habitants. On  the  way  thither  in  the  train  an  amusing 
incident  happened.  Two  gentlemen  in  Balling's  com- 
partment were  fiercely  denouncing  the  British  trade  in 
things  "made  in  Germany."  Balling  listened  in  silence, 
but  at  the  next  stopping-place  procured  a  slip  of  white 
paper  in  the  refreshment  room,  wrote  on  it  "made  in 
Germany,"  pinned  it  in  front  of  his  hat,  and  went  back 
to  his  seat.  There  was  some  fun,  explanations  ensued, 
and  the  three  ended  by  being  very  good  friends. 

At  Nelson,  Balling  soon  discovered  that  he  was  ex- 

258 


MICHAEL    BALLING 

pected  to  play  piano  duets  with  the  wife  of  a  Dr. 
Johannsen,  a  Dane;  who,  finding  that  he  was  not  a 
pianist,  shelved  him  entirely.  This  stung  him  into  his 
first  attempt  to  learn  the  piano,  and  he  began  his 
studies  with  the  Prelude  to  "Tristan."  Naturally  the 
studies  did  not  go  far! 

After  two  months'stayhe  ventured,  with  littleknow- 
ledge  of  English,  on  a  public  speech  in  behalf  of  his 
projected  School  of  Music,  and  raised  ^300  at  the  first 
meeting.  The  money  was  spent  on  instruments,  which, 
some  of  them  unknown  in  the  land,  aroused  great  cur- 
iosity when  displayed  in  the  shop  windows.  A  New 
Zealander,  Miss  Dogtail,  taught  the  pianoforte,  and 
played  well;  Mr.  Balling  taught  all  the  orchestral  in- 
struments and  musical  history.  In  his  first  harmony 
class  there  were  twenty-three  pupils,  including  a  Col- 
onel Branfield,  who  had  been  through  the  Indian  Mut- 
iny and  was  now  over  seventy  years  of  age,  and  a  little 
girl  of  nine  years,  daughter  of  Mrs.  Houlker,the  teach- 
er of  singing.  Choral  societies  were  soon  formed,  and 
military  brass-band  players  were  quickly  converted 
into  wood-wind  players  for  the  orchestra.  After  two 
years'  work  the  Music  School  had  200  pupils,  and  it 
still  continues  to  be  a  prosperous  institution. 

Before  leaving,  Balling  had  some  interesting  experi- 
ences with  the  Maoris,  and  was  much  struck  with  their 
aboriginal  music.  In  the  forests  bordering  the  Wan- 

ganui  (the  Rhine  of  New  Zealand)  the  melancholy  of 
259 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

their  chants  of  mourning  reminded  him  of  some  of  the 
oldest  Catholic  hymns.  At  a  Court  festival  he  played 
viola  solos  for  the  Maori  king,  and  was  presented  with  a 
stick  deftly  carved  by  means  of  fish-shells  and  stones. 

Mr.  Balling  came  back  to  England  to  conduct  the 
music  to  "  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  "  for  Mr.  F.  R. 
Benson's  company  on  their  tour  through  England  and 
Scotland.  A  return,  as  assistant,  to  Bayreuth  follow- 
ed in  1896,  when  the  first  performance  of  the  "Ring" 
was  given  since  1 876.  Mr.  Balling  now  became  on  in- 
timate friendly  terms  with  the  Wagner  family. 

Hewas  next  appointed  chorus-director  of  the  Ham- 
burg Stadt-theatre,  and  in  eight  months  he  prepared 
ninety  different  operas,  and  conducted  all  music  be- 
hind the  scenes,  attending  every  rehearsal  and  every 
performance.  This  experience  very  much  widened  his 
knowledge.  Called  upon  suddenly  to  conduct  "The 
Barberof  Seville,"  without  preparation,  he  became  ob- 
sessed with  the  idea  that  he  might  develop  into  a  con- 
ductor. Soon  afterwards  he  was  appointed  conductor 
at  Liibeck,  where  he  gave  the  first  performance  of  the 
"Ring"  without  cuts. 

In  this  small  town  he  gave  thirty- four  performances 
of  "TheMagicFlute"to packedhouses.  Hewasnextat 
Breslau,and  then  became  successor  toMottl  at  Karls- 
ruhe. Here  he  had  his  first  experience  of  orchestral 
concerts,  and  gave  all  the  symphonies  of  Beethoven 

and  Bruckner.   At  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  Barcelona, 

260 


MICHAEL    BALLING 

he  gave  twelve  performances  of  "DieMeistersingers," 
the  first  given  there.  He  next  conducted  a  Beethoven 
Festival  in  Rome.  Then  came  an  invitation  to  conduct 
"Tristan"  at  Bayreuth,  and  his  appointment  as  con- 
ductor of  the  "Ring,"  in  succession  to  Richter. 

And  so  his  fame  has  been  made — by  sheer  ability 
and  hard  work, and  always  the  favouring  opportunity. 
I  heard  him  speak  at  a  supper  given  to  the  Halle  Or- 
chestra in  Edinburgh  recently,  and  was  much  struck 
by  his  modesty  and  his  evident  artistic  earnestness. 
As  a  conductor,  he  knows  what  he  wants  and  knows 
how  to  get  it.  In  Beethoven's  Choral  Symphony  I  have 
seen  him  shake  his  fist  at  the  sopranos,  demanding 
more  tone  from  them  when  they  were  already  singing 
their  loudest.  And  he  got  it! 

In  all  his  conducting  Balling  suggests  Richter.  He 
is  a  little  more  demonstrative  in  gesture,  but  the  points 
he  makes  are  the  same — lucidity  in  execution,  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  different  parts  as  they  come  into  promin- 
ence in  the  play  of  the  movement,  and  a  general  sym- 
pathetic view  of  the  work  as  a  whole.  There  is  in  his 
manner,  too,  an  absence  of  sensationalism  that  con- 
duces to  the  enjoyment  of  those  who  go  to  hear  good 
music  well  played  rather  than  to  watch  the  back  of  the 
conductor,  and  to  have  "thrills"  when  his  gyrations 
suggest  that  he  is  doing  the  whole  thing  himself. 


XLV.          WILLEM  MENGELBERG 

THE  NAME  IS  NOT  PERHAPS  VERY  WIDELY 
familiar,  and  yet  Mengelberg  is  among  the  greatest 
of  living  conductors.  His  first  appearance  in  London 
was  at  the  Strauss  Festival  in  the  old  St.  James'  Hall 
in  1903.  The  remarkable  vitality  of  his  interpretations 
was  then  generally  commented  on,  and  it  was  known 
that  Strauss  regarded  him  as  one  of  the  finest  expon- 
ents of  his  work.  Indeed,  did  not  Strauss  dedicate  his 
"EinHeldenleben"  to  Mengelbergand  his  Amsterdam 
Orchestra. 

Mr.  Alfred  Kalisch,  writing  in  the  Musical  Times 
of  July  1912,  remarks  that  it  is  one  of  the  curiosities 
of  London  musical  life  that  while  so  many  dozens  of 
conductors  from  every  civilised  country  should  have 
visited  England,  nine  years  should  have  elapsed  before 
Mengelberg  again  came  to  London,  especially  as  his 
fame  on  the  Continent  grew  steadily  all  the  time. 

The  real  reason  is  scarcely  flattering  to  the  national 
vanity.  A  great  many  offers  had  been  made  in  the  in- 
terval to  him  for  appearances  in  England,  but  the 
crude,  bald  fact  is  that  he  was  receiving  so  much 
higher  fees  everywhere  else  than  those  suggested  to 
him  by  such  indigent  places  as  London,  Liverpool, 
and  Manchester,  that  he  saw  no  reason  for  accepting 
them.  This  should  be  generally  known.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Mengelberg  accepted  a  1912  engagement  in 
London  at  something  less  than  half  the  fee  he  was 

wont  to  receive  in  certain  Continental  cities.  He  came 

262 


WILLEM    MENGELBERG 

to  conduct  the  first  concert  of  the  Philharmonic  cent- 
enary season.  He  conquered  London  thereby,  and  he 
is  likely  to  be  a  prominent  influence  in  the  orchestral 
music  of  England  for  some  time  to  come. 

Mengelberg  comes  of  good  artistic  stock.  He  was 
born  at  Utrecht  in  1871.  His  father  is  well  known  as 
an  authority  on  Gothic  architecture  and  sculpture,  and 
has  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the  restoration  of  Co- 
logne Cathedral.  He  began  his  musical  education  at 
the  Utrecht  School  of  Music,  and  completed  it  at  the 
Conservatoire  of  Cologne.  Originally  he  had  meant  to 
be  a  solo  pianist;  but  in  1 892  he  was  chosen  from  over 
eighty  candidates  as  Director  of  Music  at  Lucerne. 

Three  years  later,  he  went  to  Amsterdam  as  con- 
ductor and  director  of  the  Concertgebow,  and  that 
position  he  has  occupied  since.  Six  or  seven  years  ago 
he  was  chosen  for  one  of  the  most  important  appoint- 
ments in  Germany — that  of  conductor  of  the  Museum 
Concerts  and  the  St.  Cecilia  Concerts  of  Frankfort. 
He  also  conducts  regularly  every  year  in  a  good  many 
cities  in  Germany,  and  his  annual  visits  to  Italy  and 
Russia  are  eagerly  anticipated. 

While  Mengelberg  has  naturally  a  leaning  towards 
the  most  modern  music,  he  is  also  a  most  reverential 
lover  of  the  great  classics,  and  his  Bach  performances 
are  regarded  as  models.  It  is  one  of  his  cherished  ob- 
jects to  encourage  young  composers  of  all  countries. 

As  a  conductor,  he  never  tries  to  attract  attention  by 
263 


MODERN    MUSICIANS 

eccentricity  of  manner  or  personal  pose.  His  manner 
on  the  platform  is  eminently  simple  and  straightfor- 
ward, and  offers  few  temptations  to  dealers  in  flam- 
boyant epithets.  The  clearness  and  tremendous  de- 
cision of  his  beat  impress  even  the  most  casual  ob- 
server; and  he  inspires  his  players  because  all  he  does 
is  meant  to  guide  them  and  not  to  impress  the  public. 
He  gives  his  cues  in  a  most  unmistakable  manner, 
and  wastes  neither  time  nor  energy  in  superfluous 
movements. 

Mengelberg  has  a  very  high  opinion  of  English  or- 
chestras, and  their  readiness  to  respond  to  the  con- 
ductor's wishes.  "He  told  his  friends,"  says  Mr.  Al- 
fred Kalisch,  to  whom  I  am  specially  indebted  in  this 
chapter,  "that  the  wonderful  flexibility  and  unanimity 
of  the  gigantic  orchestra  which  he  faced  at  the  Albert 
Hall  on  the  occasion  of  the  Orchestral  Association's 
Titanic  Concert  gave  him  one  of  the  greatest  experi- 
ences of  his  life.  He  freely  admits  that  he  approached 
his  task  with  a  certain  amount  of  scepticism,  and  with- 
out any  hope  that  it  would  yield  really  artistic  results, 
because  his  previous  experience  of  very  large  orches- 
tras with  numerous  'passengers'  had  not  been  encour- 
aging. A  few  minutes  of  rehearsal,  however,  speedily 
converted  him." 

Eminent  as  a  conductor,  Mengelberg  is  interesting 
as  a  man.  When  he  was  younger,  it  used  to  be  said 

in  Germany  that  he  looked  like  a  Rembrandt  with  a 

264 


MYLNARSKl 


WILLEM    MENGELBERG 

cherub  face.  In  private  life  he  is  the  most  simple  and 
unassuming  of  men.  Staying  in  Lucerne,  he  has  de- 
veloped a  passion  for  nature  and  the  simple  life.  He 
spends  the  greater  part  of  the  summer  in  Switzerland 
— at  a  little  chalet  in  the  hills,  away  from  the  beaten 
tourist  track.  There,  as  he  says, he  has  caused  respect- 
ful surprise  to  the  primitive  inhabitants  by  installing 
an  up-to-date  bathroom. 

He  is  a  great  lover  of  pictures,  and  is  peculiarly  ex- 
pert in  the  matter  of  the  Dutch  painters.  Wherever 
he  is,  he  spends  some  time  in  his  character  of  collector 
and  of  bargain-hunter.  His  "extra  special"  hobby  is 
Eglomis£  enamel.  During  a  recent  visit  to  London  he 
looked  up  a  good  many  of  the  famous  dealers.  One 
dealer  who  showed  him  round  afterwards  inquired 
where  he  had  his  place  of  business.  When  he  was  in- 
formed that  Mengelberg  was  a  musician  he  absolutely 
refused  to  believe  it,  saying  that  he  had  never  met  any- 
body outside  the  business  who  knew  so  much  about 
things  in  general. 


XLVI.  EMIL  MLYNARSKI 

THE  SCOTTISH  ORCHESTRA  HAS  HAD 
many  conductors  of  distinction.  Away  back  in  the 
'seventies  that  eccentric  genius  Hans  von  Biilow  dir- 
ected the  forces  at  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh.  Then 
came  Sir  August  Manns,  so  long  associated  with  the 
Crystal  Palace  concerts.  Following  him  there  were  in 
turn  Dr.  Henschel  and  Sir  Frederic  Cowen,  with  an 
insignificant  Dutchman  in  between.  "Variety's  the 
spice  of  life,"  says  Cowper;  and  in  the  matter  of  their 
conductors  that  seems  to  be  the  opinion  of  the  direct- 
ors of  the  Scottish  Orchestra. 

Cowen  had  reigned  for  a  long  time,  and  a  change 
was  said  to  be  expedient.  Who  was  to  be  his  success- 
or? The  question  fell  to  be  decided  in  1910.  In  1907 
a  Polish  musician,  born  in  Warsaw,  had  come  to  Lon- 
don for  a  concert  given  by  Mischa  Elman,  at  which  he 
was  to  conduct  the  London  Symphony  Orchestra.  His 
name  was  Emil  Mlynarski.  He  was  educated  origin- 
ally as  a  violinist  at  the  St.  Petersburg  Conservatoire, 
when  Anton  Rubinstein  was  the  director.  During  the 
many  years  that  Mlynarski  performed  as  a  violinist, 
he  was  recognised  as  the  favourite  and  best  pupil  of 
his  master,  Leopold  Auer. 

After  touring  the  Continent,  he  settled  at  Warsaw, 
and  founded  the  Warsaw  Philharmonic  Society,  which 
he  conducted  for  four  years,  at  the  same  time  acting  as 
conductor  at  the  local  Opera  House.  Thereafter  he 

was  invited  to  become  conductor  of  the  Moscow  Phil- 

266 


EMIL    MLYNARSKI 

harmonic  Society,  and  also  to  be  one  of  the  conductors 
of  the  St.  Petersburg  Imperial  Russian  Society. 

Following  his  London  appearance  of  1907,  he  con- 
ducted several  concerts  in  the  metropolis,  and  on  all 
occasions  received  the  highest  praise  from  the  press. 
He  is  a  conductor  of  much  ability:  eloquent  and  im- 
pressive in  his  interpretations,  and  inspiring  in  his 
command  of  the  orchestra.  His  "readings"  are  distin- 
guished by  remarkable  clearness  of  phrasing,  almost 
microscopic  attention  to  detail,  and  keen  perception 
of  effect.  The  members  of  the  Scottish  Orchestra  are 
devoted  to  him,  and  the  musical  people  of  Edinburgh 
and  Glasgow  (to  say  nothing  of  Continental  capitals) 
do  not  fail  to  appreciate  his  gifts. 

Mlynarski  is  himself  a  composer,  too,  his  works 
evincing  a  lively  fancy,  refined  taste,  and  musicianly 
skill.  In  1898  he  took  the  Paderewski  Prize  at  Leipzig 
for  his  Violin  Concerto  in  D  minor.  His  other  works 
include  violin  and  piano  pieces,  a  Symphony  in  F  major 
(first  performed  in  Scotland  in  1912),  and  a  couple  of 
operas.  His  Mazurka  for  the  violin  is  known  all  over 
the  musical  world. 


THE  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  SERIES 

THE  LIGHTER  SIDE  OF  ENGLISH  LIFE 

By  F.  FRANKFORT  MOORE.     With  sixteen  studies  in  color  of  English  characters 

by  GEORGE  BELCHER.     8vo,  296  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

Mr.  Frankfort  Moore,  the  famous  Irish  wit  and  novelist,  has  been  living  for  the  last 
few  years  in  the  heart  of  England,  and  for  all  the  snobbishness  he  has  encountered, 
and  for  all  the  heavy-handed  complacency  that  has  tried  to  crush  him,  he  now  gives  his 
so^^l  compensation.  The  chapters  describe  rural  England  as  it  really  is  to-day,  with  the 
utmost  Hibernian  irreverence.  The  choice  of  Mr.  George  Belcher  to  illustrate  such  a 
book  was  inevitable.  As  a  draughtsman  he  is  a  '•''lineal"  descendant  of  Leech. 

THE  ENGLISH  CHARACTER 

By  SPENCER  LEIGH  HUGHES.     With  sixteen  illustrations  in  color  by  FREDERICK 

GARDNER.   8vo,  280  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

The  subject  Mr.  Hughes  has  chosen  gives  his  genius  for  wise  jesting  exactly  the  kind 
of  opportunity  it  revels  in.  He  deals  in  turn  with  Politicians  and  Poets,  the  Clergy 
and  Criminals,  and  others — always  pricking  pretensions,  putting  his  finger  unerringly 
on  foibles  and  weaknesses,  but  with  a  geniality  that  makes  the  toiich  cure  instead  of 
irritate.  Mr.  Gardner  has  ruthlessly  selected  the  individuals  who  seem  to  epitomize 
their  environment,  and  has  painted  their  portraits  unsparingly. 

REMINISCENCES  OF  OLD  SCOTS  FOLK 

By  T.  RATCLIFFE  BARNETT.     With  ten  illustrations  in  color  by  R.  GEMMELL 

HUTCHISON.     8vo,  232  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

This  volume  is  a  collection  of  reminiscences  of  old  Scots  characters  and  old  Scots  customs 

which  still  linger  among  the  hills  and  in  and  out  of  the  many  country  places.     Mr. 

Barnett  is  the  master  of  a  picturesque  pen,  and  this  work  should  prove  one  of  the  most 

attractive  books  issued  for  many  years,  to  those  with  Scottish  interests. 

THE  PROVOST 

By  JOHN  GALT,  author  of  "Annals  of  the  Parish."     With  twelve  illustrations  in 

color  by  JOHN  M.  AIKEN.     8vo,  368  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 
"He  can  do  what  no  other  can  do  so  well,"  admits  Mr.  S.  J?.  Crockett.    John  Gait's 
novels  are  second  to  none  for  their  dry  humor  and  their  unerring  representation  of  old 
Scottish  life,  and  ' '  The  Provost "  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  most  faithful  of 

these  tales.     The  illustrations  are  by  a  rising  young  Scottish  artist,  J.  M.  Aiken. 

THE  KIRK  AND  ITS  WORTHIES 

By  NICHOLAS  DICKSON.     Edited  by  D.  MACLEOD   MALLOCH.     With  sixteen 
illustrations  in  color  depicting  old  Scottish  life  by  eminent  artists.     8vo,  340  pages, 

buckram,  $1.50. 

As  a  storehouse  of  humor  relating  to  the  Scottish  Kirk,  its  ministers,  its  elders  and  its 

beadles,  the  present  volume  has  no  equal.     It  also  illustrates  many  Scottish  customs 

fast  becoming  extinct. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29*  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


TRACTS      FOR      THE      TIMES 

THE  SERVILE  STATE 

By  HILAIRE  BELLOC.     8vo,  237  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.00. 

The  book  is  a  clear-headed  estimate  of  the  effect  of  modern  legislation  upon  an  industrial 
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the  establishment  of  two  legally  separate  classes — the  one  a  small  class  in  possession  of  the 
means  of  production,  legally  guaranteed  in  its  enjoyments,  the  other  a  large  proletarian 
class  condemned  to  compulsory  labour  under  the  guarantee  of  a  living  sufficiency,  and 
security  in  its  enjoyment.  The  sections  in  -which  Mr.  Belloc  seeks  to  show  that,  unless 
there  is  a  sharp  upheaval  and  deflection,  this  condition  of  scientifically  organised  slavery 
is  the  inevitable  terminus  of  contemporary  lines  of  effort,  contain,  whatever  may  be  felt 
of  their  deductions,  some  of  the  shrewdest,  most  fearless,  and  efficacious  analyses  of  current 
social  conditions  and  political  methods  that  writers  have  ever  dared  to  place  before  the 
eyes  of  this  generation. 

THE  SOCIAL  UNREST :  ITS  CAUSE  AND  SOLUTION. 

By  J.  RAMSAY  MACDONALD,  M.P.     8vo,  137  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.00.     The 
author  is  chairman  of  the  Labour  Party  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

This,  his  latest  book,  is  neither  an  academic  treatise  nor  a  propagandist  pamphlet.  It  is 
an  honest  attempt,  impassioned  but  impartial,  to  discover  an  answer  to  the  ugly  questions 
•which  thrust  themselves  on  everyone  -who  reads  his  morning  paper  with  a  seeing  eye  and 
realises  the  dark  stirrings  in  the  underworld  ;  and  it  leaps  at  once  at  the  throat  of  current 
events  without  any  theoretical  preliminaries. 

ESSAYS  IN  POST-INDUSTRIALISM 

Edited  by  Dr.  ANANDA  K.  COOMARASWAMY  and  A.  J.  PENTY.     410,  250  pages, 
buckram,  net  $1.75. 

This  volumt  is  one  which  should  be  read  by  all  who  perceive  the  approaching  decay  of  in- 
dustrialism and  are  anxious  to  assist  in  the  shaping  of  the  Future.  Among  those  who 
have  contributed  essays  are  Dr.  A.  K.  Coomaraswamy ,  A.  E.  R.  Gill,  W.  B.  Yeats, 
Gordon  Craig,  S.  D.  W.  A.  Shaw,  A.  J.  Penty,  D.  A.  Worsley,  Mrs.  E.  Townshend, 
Edward  Spencer,  Anthony  M.  Ludovici,  J,  Hows  Davies,  J.  M.  Kennedy. 

WHO  IS  TO  BE  MASTER  OF  THE  WORLD  ?     AN  INTRO- 
DUCTION TO  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FRIEDRICH  NIETZSCHE. 

By  ANTHONY  M.  LUDOVICI.     Preface  by  Dr.  OSCAR  LEVY,  author  of"  The  Revival 
of  Aristocracy,"  etc.     8vo,  200  pages,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

THE  GUILD  REVIVAL :  BEING  A  STUDY  OF  THE  FUTURE  IN  THE 

PAST 

By  A.  J.  PENTY.     410,  160  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29A  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


ARTS    AND    CRAFTS     AND     MUSIC 

ARTS  AND  CRAFTS  OF  INDIA  AND  CEYLON 

By  ANANDA  K.  COOMARASWAMY.     With  frontispiece  in  color  and  over  250  half- 
tone illustrations.     Small  4to,  278  pages,  buckram,  net  $i.75« 

This  is  absolutely  the  first  compact  account  in  English  of  the  painters  and  the  paintings 

of  India  and  Ceylon.     The  art  of  these  countries,  the  author  says,  has  been  an  "art 

for  life's  sake, "  an  art  closely  in  touch  with  the  daily  customs  of  the  people,  and  every 

step  of  its  development  has  therefore  been  connected  with  human  effort  and  personal 

ideals — the  whole  narrative  becomes  an  intimate  account  of  a  nation's  progress. 

The  illustrations  are  reproductions  of  Indian  pictures,  carvings,  fabrics,  and  frescoes, 
the  beauty  of  which  will  be  a  revelation  to  Western  art  students. 

MODERN  MUSICIANS 

By  J.  CUTHBERT  HADDEN.    With  twenty-one  portraits.    8vo,  288  pages,  buckram, 

net  $1.50. 

" Modern  Musicians"  deals  clearly, authoritatively,  informingly,  but  not  too  technically, 
with  the  work  and  characteristics  of  living  composers,  conductors,  singers,  violinists, 
and  pianists.  The  book  multiplies  immeasurably  both  the  pleasure  and  the  profit  to  be 
gained  from  concert-going,  and  it  gives  the  reader  a  working  basis  of  clear  knowledge 
which  will  enable  him  to  build  up  his  own  impressions  and  opinions  systematically. 
As  a  collection  of  portraits  of  contemporary  musical  celebrities  the  book  has  a  unique 
value,  containing  as  it  does  full-page  photographs  of  the  most  famous  modern  artists. 

MUSIC  AS  A  RELIGION  OF  THE  FUTURE 

Translated  from  the  French  of  RICCIOTTO  CANUDO,  by  BARNETT  D.  CONLAN. 
I2mo,  92  pages,  buckram,  net  90  cents. 

The  author  attempts  to  define  the  educative  influences  of  physical  melody.  He  traces 
sensuous  principles  with  scientific  integrity,  and  illustrates  its  conclusions  with  frequent 
references  to  the  works  and  theories  of  Wagner,  Rodin,  De  Rostand,  Nietzsche,  and  the 
composers  of  the  Russian  Ballet.  The  book  has  been  translated  by  Mr.  Barnett  D.  Conlan 
— who  also  contributes  a  prefatory  chapter  introducing  Sig.  Canudo  and  his  theories. 

The  STANDARD  WORK  ON  WIRELESS 

HANDBOOK  OF  TECHNICAL  INSTRUCTION  FOR  WIRE- 
LESS TELEGRAPHISTS 

By  J.  C.  HAWKHEAD.     8vo,  295  pages,  fully  illustrated,  buckram,  net  $1.75. 

The  only  authoritative  text-book  of  wireless  telegraphy.    It  is  issued  with  the  full  approval 

and  support  of  the  Marconi  Company,  in  whose  services  the  author  has  taken  high  rank, 

and  no  operator  or  young  man  who  intends  to  adopt  wireless  telegraphy  as  a  career  can 

afford  to  be  without  it. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29A  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


STANDARD        MEMOIRS 

DR.  JOHNSON'S  MRS.  THRALE 

Edited  by  J.  H.  LOBBAN.     With  27  portraits  by  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS.     8vo, 

360  pages,  buckram,  net  $2.00. 

Every  reader  of  BoswelF  s  Johnson  remembers  the  irrepressible  Mrs.  Thrale.  It  was  in 
her  society  that  he  expanded  most  genially  ;  it  was  under  her  roof  at  Streatham  that  he 
spent  sixteen  of  his  happiest  years  ;  and  it  was  of  her  that  he  lovingly  said,  "  She  would 
be  the  first  woman  in  the  world,  could  she  but  restrain  that  wicked  tongue  of  hers  ;  she 
would  be  the  only  woman,  could  she  btit  command  that  little  whirligig."  But  she  could 
not  restrain  her  wicked  tongue — and  lovers  of  the  Doctor  may  be  devoutly  glad  of  it.  Her 
book,  indeed,  is  a  necessary  complement  to  Bozzy's.  The  illustrations  consist  of  twenty- 
seven  portraits  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  exquisitely  reproduced  in  collotype. 

THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  DR.  ALEXANDER  CARLYLE 

Edited  by  J.  HILL  BURTON.    With  32  portraits  in  photogravure.    Crown  8vo,  612 

pages,  buckram,  net  $2.00. 

"  He  was  the  grandest  demigod  I  ever  saw ,"  wrote  Sir  Walter  Scott  of  the  author  of  this 
book.  But,  as  these  memoirs  show,  he  was  a  demigod  with  a  very  human  heart — or,  at 
any  rate,  a  ' '  divine  "  with  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  world.  A  man  of  noble  presence, 
he  thundered  finely  in  the  pulpit,  was  Moderator  of  the  General  Assembly,  and  Dean  of 
the  Chapel  Royal ;  but  withal  remained  as  curious  as  Pepys  about  the  little  things  of  life, 
with  a  whimsical  eye  for  the  idiosyncrasies  of  his  fellows,  and  a  proper  concern  for  food 
and  wine  and  social  customs. " 

MEMORIALS  OF  HIS  TIME 

By  LORD  COCKBURN.   With  introduction  by  HARRY  A.  COCKBURN.  With  12  por- 
traits by  SIR  HENRY  RAEBURN  in  color.     8vo,  480  pages,  buckram,  net  $2.00. 
"  Chambers'  Encyclopedia"  describes  these  Memorials  as  "  the  most  authentic,  vivid, 
genial,  and  entertaining  account  of  Edinburgh  life,  manners,  and  personages  in  the  early 
nineteenth  century."     Cockburn  had  extraordinary  opportunities  to  play  the  part  of 
observer,  and  he  made  the  most  of  them.    The  book  has  been  equipped  with  a  unique  set  of 
twenty  full-page  illustrations.     No  less  than  twelve  of  these  are  Raeburn's. 

THE  BARONIAL  &  ECCLESIASTICAL  ANTIQUITIES  OF 

SCOTLAND 

Illustrations  by  R.  W.  BILLINGS.    Text  by  J.  HILL  BURTON.    240  full-page  and  60 

other  illustrations.     Four  volumes,  410,  net  $15.00. 

The  beautifully  drawn  illustrations  of  this  monumental  work,  showing  all  that  is  finest 
in  old  Scottish  buildings,  will  prove  of  great  value  to  architects  and  all  interested  in  archi- 
tecture. 

OUR  ANCESTORS 

Scots,  Picts,  and  Cymry,  by  ROBERT  CRAIG  MACLAGAN,  M.D.     8vo,  460  pages, 

buckram,  net  $1.50. 

The  author  examines  in  great  detail  the  origins  and  early  customs  of  the  British  people. 
The  work  is  the  result  of  a  lifetime's  study  and  contains  a  mass  of  most  interesting 
theories  and  information.  By  comparing  the  customs  as  well  as  the  folk-lore  of  the  ancient 
inhabitants  of  Britain  with  the  folk-lore  and  recorded  history  of  the  ancient  classical  and 
eastern  peoples,  the  author  is  able  to  trace  much  that  is  common  in  each. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
2QA  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


THE     ROMANCE    OF     RIVERS 

THE  RIVER  OF  LONDON 

By  HILAIRE  BELLOC.     With  sixteen  illustrations  in  color  by  JOHN  MUIRHEAD. 

8vo,  200  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

Mr.  Hilaire  Belloc  has  written  another  book  in  the  same  sunny  temper  as  his  "  Path 
to  Rome  "  dealing  with  the  oldest  highway  in  Britain.  Flowing  through  England's 
history,  the  Thames  has  moulded  the  course  of  the  nation's  life  almost  as  profoundly  as 
it  has  affected  the  visible  aspect  of  her  Shires  ; — and  to  an  imagination  like  Mr.  Belloc 's 
it  therefore  becomes  both  a  crystal  road  leading  deep  into  the  past  and  a  place  for  glorious 
wayfaring  in  the  present.  The  series  of  landscapes  Mr.  Muirhead  has  painted  for  this 
book  mirror  the  Thames  at  its  successive  points  of  most  perfect  beauty. 

THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  SCOTT 

By  W.  S.  CROCKETT.     With  ten  illustrations  in  color  by  TOM  SCOTT.     8vo,  230 

pages,  buckram,  net  $1.25. 

Air.  Crockett  has  probably  no  equal  in  his  knowledge  of  the  Border  country  and  its 
literature,  or  in  his  affectionate  acquaintance  with  the  life  of  Sir  Walter.  In  this  book 
he  deals  with  the  beloved  countryside  where  Scott  was  bred,  where  he  worked  and  wan- 
dered happily  and  died,  and  which  forms  the  constant  background  of  his  books.  The 
illustrations  are  from  water-colors  specially  painted  by  Afr.  Tom  Scott,  another  born 

Borderer. 

ARRAN  OF  THE  BENS,  THE  GLENS,  AND  THE  BRAVE 

By  MACKENZIE  MACBRIDE.     With  sixteen  illustrations  in  color  by  LAWTON 

WINGATE.     8vo,  234  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

In  text  and  in  illustration  a  noble  portrait  of  the  Island  of  Arran.    The  book  is  a  scrupu- 
lous and  independent  contribution  to  the  topographical  and  historical  literature  of  the 
Scottish  Lowlands,  which  sets  its  romance  before  the  reader  with  unusual  vividness. 

PAGEANT  OF  THE  FORTH 

By  STEWART  DICK.     With  twenty-four  illustrations  in  color  by  Eminent  Scottish 

Painters.     8vo,  252  pages,  buckram,  net  $1.50. 

Rightly  considered,  the  Pageant  of  the  Forth  is  nothing  less  than  the  wale  of  Scotland' s 
history,  marching  past  upon  the  glittering  stage  of  firth  and  field  that  Edinburgh  sur- 
veys from  her  high  seat.  From  Stirling  to  Dunbar  the  coast-line  is  one  string  of  storied 
names.  It  would  be  difficult  to  write  a  dull  book  on  suck  a  theme  ;  and  Mr.  Dick  has 
not  succeeded.  The  illustrations  are  a  record  of  the  best  of  Sotland  's  scenery  by  the  best 

of  Scotland's  artists. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29A  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


THE  CITIES          SERIES 

A  brilliant  series  of  drawings  by  eminent  artists,  with  illustrations  in  photogravure 
and  gravure-tint,  mounted. 

A  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  LONDON 

25  drawings  in  photogravure  by  JOSEPH  PENNELL.    In  decorative  covers, 
net  50  cents.   In  Japanese  vellum  with  illustrations  mounted,  net  $1.00. 

THE  GREAT  NEW  YORK 

24  drawings  in  photogravure  by  JOSEPH  PENNELL.    In  decorative  covers, 
net  50  cents.    In  Japanese  vellum  with  illustrations  mounted,  net  $l.oo. 

GLASGOW,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  WEST 

24  drawings  in  photogravure  of  Old  Glasgow  by  JESSIE  M.  KING.    In  decorative 

covers,  net  50  cents. 

EDINBURGH,  THE  GREY  CITY  OF  THE  NORTH 

24  drawings  of  Old  Edinburgh  by  JESSIE  M.  KING.    In  decorative  covers, 

net  50  cents. 

DWELLINGS  OF  AN  OLD-WORLD  TOWN  IN  FIFESHIRE 

25  drawings  by  JESSIE  M.  KING.    In  decorative  covers,  net  50  cents. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  GATE 

25  drawings  in  photogravure  by  JOSEPH  PENNELL.    In  decorative  covers, 

net  75  cents. 

VENICE,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA 

25  drawings  in  photogravure  by  JOSEPH  PENNELL.    In  decorative  covers, 
net  75  cents. 

BOSTON  IN  NEW  ENGLAND,  ITS  BYWAYS  AND  HIGH- 
WAYS 

25  drawings  in  photogravure  by  JOHN  ALBERT  SEAFORD.    In  decorative  covers, 

net  50  cents. 

Uniform  with  the  above  series 

R.  L.  STEVENSON :  MEMORIES 

Being  twenty-five   illustrations,    reproduced    from   photographs,    of    Robert    Louis 

Stevenson,  his  homes  and  his  haunts.    Many  of  these  reproduced  for  the  first  time.    A 

booklet  for  every  Stevenson  lover.    In  decorative  covers,  net  50  cents. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29A  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


FRIENDSHIP      BOOKS 

Printed  in  two  colors,  and  in  attractive  bindings,  net  if  i.oo.     Bound  in  finest 
Velvet  Persian,  net  $1.50. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  in  these  books  to  issue  at  the  lowest  possible  price,  -with  the 
aid  of  the  latest  modern  processes  of  color  reproduction,  a  finely  produced  series,  sumptu- 
ously decorated  and  illustrated,  so  as  to  form  attractive  presentation  books. 

RUBAlYAT  OF  OMAR  KHAYYAM 

With  illustrations  in  color  by  F.  BRANGWYN. 

THE  GIFT  OF  FRIENDSHIP 

With  illustrations  in  color  by  H.  C.  PRESTON  MACGOUN. 

THE  GIFT  OF  LOVE 

A  collection  of  the  noblest  passages  in  literature  dealing  with  love,  selected  by 
A.  H.  HYATT.     With  illustrations  in  color  by  LEWIS  BAUMER. 

SAPPHO,  QUEEN  OF  SONG 

A  selection  from  her  love  poems  by  J.  R.  TUTIN,  with  illustrations  in  color  by 
E.  A.  R.  COLLINGS. 

AUCASSIN  AND  NICOLETTE 

With    introduction    by    F.    W.    BOURDILLON,    and    illustrations    in    color    by 

MARJORIE  NASH. 

THE  CHARM  OF  LIFE 

With  illustrations  in  color  by  FREDERICK  GARDNER. 

THE  BOOK  OF  GOOD  FRIENDSHIP 

With  illustrations  in  color  by  H.  C.  PRESTON  MACGOUN. 

THE    GARDEN    LOVER'S    BOOKS 

In  attractive  bindings,  net  $l.oo.     Bound  in  finest  Velvet  Persian,  net  $1.50. 

The  latest  modern  processes  of  color  reproduction  have  been  employed  in  illustrating 

and  decorating  this  series. 

A  BOOK  OF  GARDENS 

Illustrated  in  color  by  MARGARET  H.  WATERFIELD. 

A  BOOK  OF  OLD-WORLD  GARDENS 

Illustrated  in  color  by  BEATRICE  PARSONS. 

GARDEN  MEMORIES 

Illustrated  in  color  by  MARY  G.  W.  WILSON. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29A  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


SONGS    &P     POEMS    OF    SCOTLAND 


THE  SONGS  &  POEMS  BY  BURNS 

With  an  introduction  by  the  EARL  OF  ROSEBERY.     46  fine  illustrations  in  color  by 
eminent  artists.     4to,  612  pages,  buckram,  net  $3.50. 

A  handsome  presentation  edition  of"  The  Songs  and  Poems  of  Burns."  While  many 
eminent  artists  have  painted  some  of  their  finest  pictures  in  depicting  scenes  from 
Burns,  no  attempt  has  previously  been  made  to  collect  these  within  the  bounds  of  an 
edition  of  his  works.  The  text  is  printed  in  black  and  blue  on  fine  paper,  with  ample 

margins. 

THE  SONGS  OF  LADY  NAIRNE 

Illustrated  with  pictures  by  well-known   Scottish  painters,  reproduced  in  color. 
8vo,  bound  in  attractive  boards,  net  Xi.oo. 

Were  all  existing  copies  of  Lady  Nairne's  songs  destroyed  to-morrow,  they  could  be 
perfectly  reprinted  the  next  day,  so  unforgettably  do  they  live  in  a  thousand  Scottish 

minds. 


THE  SCOTS  POEMS  OF  ROBERT  FERGUSSON 

With  8  illustrations  in  color  by  MONRO  S.  ORR.     8vo,  bound  in  attractive  boards, 

net  $1.00. 

This  poor  Edinburgh  lad  is  the  first  of  the  true  race  of  Scottish  singers.  He  dis- 
covered the  possibilities  of  the  vernacular,  taught  the  Muses  not  to  be  afraid  of  taverns, 
gave  Burns  a  lead,  made  tune  after  tune  which  the  latter  copied  so  well  that  we  now 
attribute  them  wholly  to  him. 

The  earlier  Robert  raised  a  monument  in  Canongate  churchyard  inscribed  to  the 
memory  of  "  my  elder  brother  in  the  Muses."  Stevenson  wished  to  dedicate  his  own 
complete  works  to  the  lad's  memory.  "  I  feel  that  I  must  do  something  for  Fergusson" 
he  wrote  to  a  friend.  "  I  have  always  had  a  great  sense  of  kinship  with  him — so  clever 
a  lad,  so  wild,  of  such  a  mixed  strain,  born  in  the  same  town  as  me  and  .  .  .  so  like 

myself. " 

THE  SONGS  &  POEMS  OF  THE  ETTRICK  SHEPHERD 

With  8  illustrations  in  color  by  JESSIE  M.  KING.     8vo,  bound  in  attractive  boards, 

net  $1.00. 

The  cream  of  Hogg's  poetry  is  in  this  book ;  it  meets  the  needs  of  those  who  are  in 
search  of  an  adequate  edition  of  the  work  of  Scotland's  famous  peasant-poet.  The 
artist  selected  for  the  task  of  providing  illustrations  of  a  fine  appropriateness  was  Miss 
Jessie  M.  King  of  Glasgow.  The  Ettrick  Shepherd  has  been  called  "  the  king  of  the 
fairy  and  the  mountain  school  of  poetry. "  It  is  excusable  to  say  that  Miss  King  is 
the  queen  of '" the  fairy  and  the  mountain  school"  of  painting. 

LE  ROY  PHILLIPS,  PUBLISHER 
29A  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


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