Ignaz Jan Paderewski

VII

HIS VIEWS ON MUSIC AND TEACHING

It is not often that Paderewski has expressed his thoughts on his art, but by careful research I have come across a few interviews here and there which have something of value in them, and, I think, are worth quoting. Again I must quote Mr. Henry T. Finck, an enthusiastic admirer, who can speak with first-hand authority of the pianist's musical faith. His taste, we are told, is remarkably catholic. "He likes Grieg's songs better than his pianoforte works, while Brahms's piano pieces, as he once said to me, hardly exist for him! 'They seem all treble and bass!'2 But he admires the chamber music of Brahms. His worship of the romantic Chopin, Liszt and Schumann does not interfere with his enjoyment of the classical Mozart and Beethoven. He adores Bach and Schubert, and at the same time he is a thorough Wagnerite. To hear 'Parsifal' or 'Tristan,' he says, you ought to go to Bayreuth; for the 'Meistersinger' to Vienna, for 'Tannhäuser' to Dresden; while of 'The Flying Dutchman' the best performance he ever heard was at a small German city of thirty thousand inhabitants. This catholicity of taste compares strangely with Rubinstein's rather limited enthusiasms." There are certainly few pianists who have shown so eclectic a taste in their playing as Paderewski has always displayed. It would be difficult, indeed, to decide from his interpretations what composers appeal to him most, for while at one moment you are ready to declare that no pianist can surpass him in a performance of the music of Liszt and Chopin, at the next a singularly noble and sensitive interpretation of a Beethoven sonata will compel you to place Paderewski as the most sympathetic player of Beethoven in the world. But this aspect of the pianist's gifts may be more conveniently dealt with in the next chapter.

In the few public utterances he has made on his art, Paderewski has at once paid a tribute to his instrument, and has emphasised the enormous difficulty in becoming a master of it. "Assuredly the piano is the greatest of musical instruments," he once exclaimed. "Its powers, who has yet been able to test them to the full? Its limitations, who shall define them? No sooner does one fancy that nothing further can be done to enhance its possibilities than inventive ability steps forward and gives to it a greater volume, a more velvety smoothness of tone." On another occasion he said of the piano: "It is at once the easiest and the hardest. Any one can play the pianoforte, but few ever do so well, and then only after years and years of toil, pain, and study. When you have surmounted all difficulties, not one in a hundred amongst your audience realises through what labour you have passed. Yet they are all capable of criticising and understanding what your playing should be. Any one who takes up piano-playing with a view to becoming a professional pianist has taken on himself an awful burden. But better that than the drudgery of giving pianoforte lessons. The one is only purgatory, but the other – hell!"

Of course Paderewski has not made teaching a serious part of his career since he became famous as a virtuoso, but at least one pupil of his, Mr. Ernest Schelling, has made public appearances, and in his early days Paderewski knew what teaching meant. To a London evening paper3 he once gave the benefit of his experience. He was particularly severe on the teaching professed by young girls who, having had a superficial training, endeavour to turn their limited talents to effect when a living has to be earned or supplemented.

"To teach or to learn to play the piano or any other instrument we must commence at the beginning. The pupil must first be taught the rudiments of music. When those have been mastered he must next be taught the technique of his instrument, and if that instrument be the piano, or the violin, or the harp, or the violoncello, the muscles and joints of the hands, wrists, and fingers must be made supple and strong by playing exercises designed to accomplish that end. At the same time by means of similar exercises, the pupil must also be taught to read music rapidly and correctly. When this has been accomplished she should render herself familiar with the works of the masters – not by having them drummed into her by her instructor, but by carefully studying them for herself; by seeking diligently and patiently for the composer's meaning, playing each doubtful passage over and over again in every variety of interpretation, and striving most earnestly to satisfy herself which is the most nearly in harmony with the composer's ideas. The chief aim of every teacher of the pianoforte should be to impart to his pupils a correct technique and to enable them to play any composition at sight with proficiency and correctness; but how much, or rather how little of this kind of teaching is practised by many so-called music teachers? Many really competent music teachers have assured me that of all the pupils who came to them from teachers of lesser reputation to be 'finished' there is not one in ten who has ever been taught to play all the major and minor scales in all the various keys."

Paderewski insisted on the necessity of amateurs learning compositions by heart, and was careful to point out that the pupil must not be made mentally weary by over-practice. "Physical weariness from too much practice," he added, "is just as bad as mental. To over-fatigue the muscles is to spoil their tone, at least for the time being, and some time must elapse before they can regain their former elasticity and vigour." On the importance of a healthy muscular system to the pianist Paderewski wrote at some length in a magazine.4

"It is highly desirable that he who strives to attain the highest excellence as a performer on the pianoforte should have well-developed muscles, a strong nervous system, and, in fact, be in as good general health as possible. It might be thought that practice on the pianoforte in itself would bring about the necessary increase in muscular power and endurance. This, however, is not altogether the case, as it sometimes has a distinctly deteriorative effect, owing to the muscles being kept cramped and unused. The chief muscles actually used are those of the hand, the fore-arm, neck, small of the back, and the shoulders. The latter only come into play in striking heavy chords for which the hands and arms are considerably raised from the keys; in light playing the work is chiefly done from the wrists, and, of course, the fore-arm muscles which raise and lower the fingers. It is not so much that greater strength of muscle will give greater power for the pianoforte, but rather that the fact of the muscle being in good condition will help the player to express his artistic talent without so much effort. To play for a great length of time is often very painful, and you cannot expect a player to lose himself in his art when every movement of his hands is provocative of discomfort, if not actual pain. Sometimes, indeed, a great amount of playing brings on a special form of complaint known as 'pianist's cramp,' which may so affect the muscles and nerves that the unfortunate artist thus afflicted finds his occupation gone. I have frequently found that though, whilst playing, I have experienced no trouble from my muscles being overtaxed, afterwards the reaction has set in, and I have had no little exhaustion of the shoulders and neck, and I have also suffered from severe neuralgic pains affecting the nerve which runs from the head and conveys impulses from the brain to the deltoid muscle. Weakness in the small of the back has been by no means uncommon."

As to the higher side of pianoforte teaching, Paderewski thinks that all theoretical teaching is a mistake, "for when you have reasoned out an effect you have lost that over which you have reasoned? You must teach the student to feel." There must be no hard and fast rules. All depends on the mood and the atmosphere. And that appears to be the spirit of the teaching of Leschetitzky, the master of Paderewski.

VIII

AS PIANIST

The critic who would give a true appreciation of Paderewski as artist must at once admit that he has the power of moving an audience as no pianist since Rubinstein has been able to move it. In the opening chapter I touched on some generalities with regard to Paderewski's position in the world of piano-playing, and I referred to the modifications in the verdict of the general which the critic must make. In the difference between his outlook and the public's will be found his divergence from the critical and popular estimation in which the great pianist is held. I will at once confess that a professional critic is apt to be too theoretical in his judgments: it is, if viewed aright, the defect of his merits. We are compelled to give reasons for our likes and dislikes, and these in turn are apt to proceed too much from the intellect and not sufficiently from the emotions. The public, on the other hand, has no hard-and-fast theories concerning piano playing, singing or conducting. Provided an instrumentalist or a conductor creates a "sensation" no close inquiry is made into a sacrifice of artistic virtue. In the following appreciation of Paderewski as pianist I have been at pains to collate my own opinions with those of men who have, it seems to me, some authority to write on the subject. I may say in passing that it is extraordinary how little of the criticisms penned on the different recitals give the reader any clear and general idea of Paderewski. His interpretations and playing are praised or blamed, but a writer in a daily paper has to take it for granted that the pianist's gifts and limitations are known and understood. Indeed, a journalist who should sit down to pen a general criticism of a celebrated artist would be considered a kind of critical Rip van Winkle. That is a pity, because criticism demands reconsideration every few years. How could we tell of what a pianist's fingers might be capable until we had heard Leopold Godowsky? How judge of the future of opera until we had heard Puccini's "Madame Butterfly"? For this reason contemporary Press criticisms of Paderewski do not tell us very much. But here and there, scattered up and down the pages of weekly periodicals and magazines, I have come across passages which give a good idea of his powers and his limitations. I propose to quote a couple of these as preliminary to my own estimate of the pianist.

In all criticism comparison must play an important part. However great may be the natural gifts of a critic his verdict on a particular artist is of not much value unless he has some clear standard of technical and interpretative excellence. Those who remembered Rubinstein at his best were on firmer ground in judging the new star, Paderewski, than those who knew him not. For this reason the enthusiastic estimate of Dr. William Mason, the well-known American writer on music and professor of the piano, has peculiar value. Dr. Mason, it should be stated, studied in Germany under Moscheles, Dreyschock and Liszt. In an interesting critical study of Paderewski, written in 1893, he compared the playing of that artist with the playing of many others, including Pachmann, Rosenthal, D'Albert, and Scharwenka, and, while recognising their worth, came to the conclusion that Paderewski was "an exceedingly rare occurrence, indeed phenomenal."

"As Moscheles played Bach half a century ago, and as Rubinstein played him later on, so does Paderewski play him now – with an added grace and colour which put these great contrapuntal creations in the most charming frames. It is the great, deep, musical playing combined with the calm, quiet repose and great breadth of style. Paderewski has an advantage over Rubinstein, however, in the fact that he is always master of his resources and possesses power of complete self control… In Rubinstein there is an excess of the emotional, and while at times he reaches the highest possible standard, his impulsive Nature and lack of self-restraint are continually in his way, frequently causing him to rush ahead with such impetuosity as to anticipate his climax, and, having no reserve force to call into action, disaster is sure to follow.

"Of five prominent pianists, in Liszt we find the intellectual emotional temperament, while Rubinstein has the emotional in such excess that he is rarely able to bridle his impetuosity, Paderewski may be classified as emotional-intellectual – a very rare and happy blending of the two temperaments – and Tausig was very much upon the same plane, while Von Bülow has but little of the emotional, and overbalances decidedly on the intellectual side.

"It seems to me that in this matter of touch Paderewski is as near perfection as any pianist I ever heard, while in other respects he stands more nearly on a plane with Liszt than any other virtuoso since Tausig. His conception of Beethoven combines the emotional with the intellectual in admirable poise and proportion. Thus he plays with a big warm heart as well as with a clear, calm, discriminative head; hence a thoroughly satisfactory result… In musical conception he is so objective a player as to be faithful, true, and loving to his author, but withal he has a spice of the subjective, which imparts to his performance just the right amount of his own individuality.

"The heartfelt sincerity of the man is noticeable in all that he does and his intensity of utterance easily accounts for the strong hold he has over his audiences. Paderewski's playing presents the beautiful contour of a living, vital organism… It possesses that subtle quality expressed in some measure by the German word Sehnsucht, and in English as intensity of aspiration. This quality Chopin had, and Liszt frequently spoke of it. It is the undefinable poetic haze with which Paderewski invests and surrounds all that he plays which renders him so unique and impressive among modern pianists."

The foregoing estimate represents the discrimination of an enthusiastic admirer. Its value consists of its recognition of the power of Paderewski's personality. No criticism of his technical mannerisms alone – however much he may lay himself open to it – will give a true idea of the great pianist. Among the many estimates of Paderewski written in this country one of the most balanced and illuminative was penned by the late Arthur Johnstone, for many years the musical critic of the Manchester Guardian: – "Mr. Paderewski's distinguishing quality is a certain extraordinary energy – not merely a one-sided physical, or even a two-sided physical and intellectual, energy; it is of the fingers and wrists, of the mind, the imagination, the heart and the soul, and it makes Mr. Paderewski the most interesting of players, even though to the extreme kind of specialist, absorbed in problems of tone production, he is not the most absolute master of his instrument at the present day. His art has a certain princely quality. It is indescribably galant and chevaleresque. He knows all the secrets of all the most subtle dancing rhythms. He is a reincarnation of Chopin, with almost the added virility of a Rubinstein. No wonder such a man fascinates, bewilders and enchants the public! Greatly surpassed by Busoni in the interpretation of Beethoven, by Pachmann in the touch that persistently draws forth roundness, sweetness and fulness of tone, and by Godowsky in the mastery of intricate line and the power of sucking out the very last drop of melody from every part of a composition, Paderewski still remains the most brilliant, fascinating and successfully audacious of present-day performers, and in preferring him the general public is probably right, though the keen student of the pianoforte in particular may learn more from Godowsky, and the earnest lover of the musical classics in general, more from Busoni."

In much the same vein I wrote of a recital held at St. James's Hall in 1901. "The fascination of Paderewski held criticism in check. I know that his Beethoven in C was smallish Beethoven; that there were many spots of virtuoso exaggeration of contrast; but I also know that the adagio molto had a poetry of expression which many better-balanced pianists miss, and that the last movement had a growing power which carried one away. I know, too, that Schumann's sonata in F sharp minor was too exaggerated, that its force was often too febrile. I will even admit that Paderewski's technique is not always as clear as it might be; that for perfection of finger dexterity Rosenthal, Godowsky, Busoni and Pachmann surpass him. If you press it, I will confess that Paderewski's force is hysterical, an explosion of exacerbated nerves; that, metaphorically, he has his back to the wall and with tight-drawn lips is fighting for his life. His strength, you may say, is almost a weakness. It has no reserve and occasionally it is perilously akin to ranting. He is also too fond of unnecessary dynamic contrasts – the sign of the virtuoso all the world over, whether he be a pianist or a chorus-master. I would not even combat the assertion that he often allows a fastidious brain to prompt new readings when novelty is unnecessary, and I must admit that he has the abominable trick of opening his chords – the kind of thing one expects in a third-rate pianist bidding for a cheap popularity. Is the catalogue of defects full? If not, insert some more, and then —

"Why, then, I will still assert that Paderewski is the greatest of living pianists. He has what so many of them do not possess – a strong individuality and real insight as a musical poet. D'Albert might play that Beethoven sonata with a nicer balance and a more intellectual grasp; but he would not create that glowing atmosphere. Paderewski's reading cannot be held up as a model to young men and maidens. It was very subjective. I do not ask Paderewski to be anything but himself, for his self interests me. But, at any rate, the performances of Haydn's Variations in F minor and Mozart's Rondo in A minor were perfect enough in restraint and classical grace to rank as models. They seemed to me to represent the normal Paderewski.

"And his Chopin playing particularly appeals to me. Pachmann, in the lesser Chopin, and Godowsky as well, play with more polish of phrase, and they have a more extended gamut of dynamic nuances; but neither plays as a poet would play, and Chopin, with all his absolute musical fastidiousness, was a poet. Pachmann is too pre-occupied with mere beauty of tone and with the rhetoric of antithesis; Godowsky with the perfection of finger technique. Busoni's Chopin playing can alone be compared to Paderewski's, for Busoni has a poet's imagination. But Paderewski has more emotional fibre." As a marginal note to this criticism, it should be said that the pianist was not at his best in that year. The tendency to nervous explosions was not so marked when he visited us the following summer.

It must be confessed that Paderewski's repertoire is rather limited. He never makes experiments with the compositions of new men, and I do not remember if he has ever played anything of Alkans or of César Franck. The plan of his programmes is apt to be stereotyped – a group of pieces by Bach, Handel, Scarlatti – or other of the harpsichord composers; then a sonata of Mozart or Beethoven, followed by the German romantic school, and ending with Chopin, Liszt, and Rubinstein, or his own compositions. Still, it is very difficult for a pianist to import novelty into the programme of a recital, and until quite recently modern composers have ignored the piano. But if Paderewski's repertoire is not very extended, his sympathies are catholic enough. There is only one other pianist who can be compared with him in this respect – Busoni. The rest have such limitations of sympathy that one could wish they would follow Pachmann's example and confine themselves to the composers they understand. Paderewski is, perhaps, at his best in the playing of Chopin and Liszt, and, at the other extreme, in his reproduction of the old harpsichord music. The racial spirit in him, which I have already shown is a real part of his composition, enables him to realise the bigger Chopin as no other pianist realises him. In the Chopin which mainly demands agility of finger and a refined sense of harmony, Busoni and Pachmann excel Paderewski; but neither can play the great Scherzo in C sharp minor as Paderewski plays it. His Beethoven is unequal. Sometimes, if in the mood, he will give you a performance of one of the later sonatas which cannot be surpassed for grandeur and glow of emotion (he could never be a mere "classical" Beethoven player); at other times his readings are rather small and not sufficiently architectural. He has done wonderful things with the "Moonlight" and "Waldstein" sonatas, however. His Beethoven is never uninteresting, and it is something that he spares us the hard austerity of some of the Beethoven playing which is so highly praised in these days.