Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

"I might say that I began my music when about four years old, by playing the Russian National Hymn, on a toy piano containing eight keys, which had been given me. My older sister, who was studying the piano, noticed this, showed me a few things about the notes, and I constantly picked out little tunes and pieces on the real piano. Finally one day my sister's teacher, Rudolph Heim, came to the house, mainly on my account. This was in Odessa, in the south of Russia, where I was born and where I spent my early years. On this occasion, he wanted to look at me and see what I could do. Unluckily a sudden fit of shyness overcame me and I began to cry; the exhibition could not take place, as nothing could be made out of me that day. You see I was headstrong even at that early age," said the young pianist, with one of her charming smiles.

"Soon after this incident, I was taken to the Professor's studio. He examined me, considered I had talent, and thought it should be cultivated. So he took me in hand. I was then five, and my real musical education began at that time.

"From the very first I adopted a position of hand which seemed to me most convenient and comfortable, and no amount of contrary instruction and advice has ever been able to make me change it. I play scales and passages with low hand and flat fingers because that position seems the most favorable for my hand. When practising, I play everything very slowly, raising my fingers high and straight from the knuckle joint. This gives me great clearness and firmness. In rapid passage work the action is reduced, but the position remains. I am said to have a clear, pearly touch, with quite sufficient power at my command for large works.

"After five years of study with my first teacher, Rudolph Heim, a pupil of Moscheles, I entered the Moscow Conservatory, and continued my studies under Professor Pabst, brother and teacher of the composer of that name. I was then ten years old. Professor Pabst was very conservative, very strict, and kept me at work on the music of the older masters. This kind of music suits me, I think; at least I enjoy it. Even here I still clung to my ideas of holding my hands and of touching the keys, and always expect to do so.

"I remained with this professor about six years and then began my public career.

"You ask about my present studies, and how I regulate my practise. During my periods of rest from concert work, I practise a great deal--I wish I could say all the time, but that is not quite possible. I give an hour or more a day to technical practise. As to the material, I use Chopin's Etudes constantly, playing them with high-raised, outstretched fingers, in very slow tempo. One finds almost every technical problem illustrated in these etudes; octaves, arpeggios, scales in double thirds and sixths, repeated notes, as in number 7, broken chords and passage work. I keep all these etudes in daily practise, also using some of the Liszt _Etudes Transcendantes_, and, of course, Bach. The advantage of using this sort of material is that one never tires of it; it is always interesting and beautiful. With this material well in hand, I am always ready for recital, and need only to add special pieces and modern music.

"In learning a new work I first study it very slowly, trying to become familiar with its meaning. I form my concept of it and _live_ with it for months before I care to bring it forward. I try to form an ideal conception of the piece, work this out in every detail, then always endeavor to render it as closely like the ideal as possible."

VII

ETHEL LEGINSKA

RELAXATION THE KEYNOTE OF MODERN PIANO PLAYING

The brilliant young pianist, Ethel Leginska, who is located for a time in America, was seen in her Carnegie Hall studio, on her return from a concert tour. The young English girl is a petite brunette; her face is very expressive, her manner at once vivacious and serious. The firm muscles of her fine, shapely hands indicate that she must spend many hours daily at the keyboard.

"Yes, I have played a great deal in public--all my life, in fact--ever since I was six. I began my musical studies at Hull, where we lived; my first teacher was a pupil of McFarren. Later I was taken to London, where some rich people did a great deal for me. Afterward I went to Leschetizky, and was with him several years, until I was sixteen; I also studied in Berlin. Then I began my career, and concertized all over Europe; now I am in America for a time. I like it here; I am fond of your country already.

"The piano is such a wonderful instrument to me; I feel we are only beginning to fathom its possibilities; not in a technical sense, but as a big avenue for expression. For me the piano is capable of reflecting every mood, every feeling; all pathos, joy, sorrow--the good and the evil too--all there is in life, all that one has lived." (This recalls a recently published remark of J. S. Van Cleve: "The piano can sing, march, dance, sparkle, thunder, weep, sneer, question, assert, complain, whisper, hint; in one word it is the most versatile and plastic of instruments.")

"As for the technic of the piano, I think of it only as the material--only as a means to an end. In fact I endeavor to get away from the thought of the technical material, in order that I may get at the meaning of the music I wish to interpret. I am convinced there is a great future for the piano and its music. Even now we are taking piano music very seriously, and are trying to interpret it in a far deeper and broader sense than the pianists of, say, fifty years ago ever thought of doing. I fancy if Clara Schumann, for instance, could return and play to us, or even Liszt himself, we should not find their playing suited to this age at all. Some of us yet remember the hand position Mme. Schumann had, the lack of freedom in fingers and arms. It was not the fashion of her time to play with the relaxed freedom, with the breadth and depth of style which we demand of artists to-day. In those days relaxation had not received the attention it deserved, therefore we should probably find the playing of the greatest artists of a former generation stiff and angular, in spite of all we have heard of their wonderful performances.

"Relaxation is a hobby with me; I believe in absolute freedom in every part of the arm anatomy, from the shoulder down to the finger-tips. Stiffness seems to me the most reprehensible thing in piano playing, as well as the most common fault with all kinds of players. When people come to play for me, that is the thing I see first in them, the stiffness. While living in Berlin, I saw much of Mme. Teresa Carreno, and she feels the same as I do about relaxation, not only at the keyboard, but when sitting, moving about or walking. She has thought along this line so constantly, that sometimes, if carrying something in hand, she will inadvertently let it drop, without realizing it--from sheer force of the habit of relaxation.

"You ask how I would begin with a young pupil who never has had lessons. I use the principle of relaxation first of all, loosening arms and wrists. This principle can be taught to the youngest pupil. The wrist is elevated and lowered, as the hand is formed on the keys in its five finger position, with arched knuckles. It does not take long to acquire this relaxed condition; then come the finger movements. I do not believe in lifting the fingers high above the keys; this takes time and interferes with velocity and power. I lift my fingers but little above the keys, yet I have plenty of power, all the critics agree on that. In chords and octaves I get all the power I need by grasping the keys with weight and pressure. I do not even prepare the fingers in the air, before taking the chord; I do not find it necessary." Here the pianist played a succession of ringing chords, whose power and tonal quality bore out her words; the fingers seemed merely to press and cling; there was no striking nor percussion.

"To return to the beginning pupil. As for a book to start with, I often use the one by Damm, though any foundational work may be employed, so long as correct principles are taught. It is said by Leschetizky that he has no method. That may be understood to mean a book, for he certainly has what others would call a method. There are principles and various sets of exercises to be learned; but it is quite true that none of the Vorbereiters use a book.

"In teaching the piano, as you know, every pupil is different; each has his or her own peculiar hand, and a different degree of intelligence. So each pupil must be treated differently. This is really an advantage to the teacher; for it would be very monotonous if all pupils were alike.

"The piano is such a revealer of character; I need only to hear a person play to know what sort of character he has. If one is inclined to much careful detail in everything, it comes out in the playing. If one is indolent and indifferent, it is seen the moment one touches the keys; or if one is built on broad, generous lines, and sees the dramatic point in life and things, all this is revealed at the piano.

"To refer again to the subject of finger action. I do not believe in the so-called finger stroke; on the contrary I advocate fingers close to the keys, clinging to them whenever you can. This is also Arthur Schnabel's idea. You should hear Schnabel; all Berlin is wild over him, and whenever he gives a concert the house is sold out. He has quantities of pupils also, and is quite a remarkable teacher. One point I insist upon which he doesn't: I will not allow the joint of the finger next the tip to break or give in. I can not stand that, but Schnabel doesn't seem to care about it; his mind is filled with only the big, broad things of music.

"In regard to memorizing piano compositions. I do it phrase by phrase, and at the instrument, unless I am traveling or unable to get to a piano, in which case I think it out from the notes. If the piece is very difficult I take a short passage of two or three measures and play each hand separately and then together; but generally I play the passage complete--say half a dozen times with the notes, and then repeat it the same number of times from memory. Perhaps the next day I have forgotten it, so the work has to be done over again; the second time, however, it generally sticks.

"My great longing and ambition is to write music, to become a composer. With this end in view, I give whatever time I am able to the study of composition. I hope some day to create something that will be worthy the high aim I have before me."

VIII

BERTHA FIERING TAPPER

MASTERING PIANISTIC PROBLEMS

If environment and atmosphere are inspirational aids to piano teaching and playing, the students of Mrs. Thomas Tapper have the incentives of both in their lesson hours. Her apartments on the Drive have the glory of sunlight all the long afternoons. Outside the Hudson shimmers in blue and gold; indoors all is harmonious and home-like. In the large music-room, facing the river, two grand pianos stand side by side; there are many portraits and mementoes of the great in music; fresh flowers, books--everything to uplift thought; while in the midst of it all is Mrs. Tapper herself, the serious, high-minded, inspiring teacher; the "mother confessor" to a large number of young artists and teachers.

"Music study means so much more than merely exercising the fingers," she said; "the student should have a good all-round education. When young people come to me for instruction, I ask what they are doing in school. If they say they have left school in order to devote their whole time to the piano, I say, 'Go back to your school, and come to me later, when you have finished your school course.' It is true that in rare cases it may be advisable for the student to leave school, but he should then pursue general or special studies at home. I often wish the music student's education in this country could be arranged as it is in at least one of the great music schools in Russia. There the mornings are given to music, while general studies are taken up later in the day. It is really a serious problem, here in America, this fitting in music with other studies. Both public and private schools try to cover so much ground that there is very little time left for music or anything else. The music pupil also needs to know musical literature, history and biography, to be familiar with the lives and writings of the great composers. Take the letters and literary articles of Robert Schumann, for instance. How interesting and inspiring they are!

"In regard to methods in piano study my principles are based wholly upon my observations of Leschetizky's work with me personally, or with others. What I know he has taught me; what I have achieved I owe to him. My first eight weeks in Vienna were spent in learning, first, to control position and condition of hands and arms according to the law of balance; secondly, to direct each motion with the utmost accuracy and speed. To accomplish this I began with the most elementary exercises in five-finger position, using one finger at a time. Then came the principles of the scale, arpeggios, chords and octaves. All these things were continued until every principle was mastered. I practised at first an hour a day, then increased the amount as my hands grew stronger and the number of exercises increased.

"Next came the study of tone production in various forms, a good quality invariably being the result of a free condition of the arm combined with strength of fingers and hands.

"The Leschetizky principles seem to me the most perfect and correct in every particular. Yes, there are several books of the method, by different authors, but I teach the principles without a book. The principles themselves are the essential things. I aim to build up the hand, to make it strong and dependable in every part, to fill out the weak places and equalize it. That this may be thoroughly and successfully accomplished, I require that nothing but technical exercises be used for the first nine, ten, or twelve weeks. We begin with the simplest exercises, one finger at a time, then two, three and so on through the hand. I believe in thus devoting all the practise time to technic, for a certain period, so that the mind is free to master the principles, undisturbed by piece playing. When the principles have been assimilated, the attention can then be directed to the study of music itself. If any weak places appear in the hand from time to time, they can be easily corrected.

"If a pupil comes to me who has played a great deal but with no idea of the principles of piano playing, who does not know how to handle herself or the keyboard, it is absolutely necessary to stop everything and get ready to play. If you attempt even a simple sonata with no legato touch, no idea of chord or scale playing, you can not make the piece sound like anything. It is like a painter trying to paint without brushes, or an artist attempting to make a pen and ink drawing with a blunt lead pencil; to do good work you must have the tools to work with.

"For application of all principles, the studies of Czerny, Op. 299, 740, and others, offer unequaled opportunity. They are simple, direct, and give the student a chance for undivided attention to every position taken and to every motion made.

"What happens afterward is altogether according to the individual characteristics of the student. How to recognize these and deal with them to the best advantage is the interesting task of my great master (and those who try to follow in his steps)--the man of keenest intelligence, of profound learning and experience. To learn this lesson from him has been my greatest aim, and to see him at work, as it has been my privilege to do for several summers, has been of the greatest influence and inspiration in my own work.

"My chief endeavor is to create a desire for good musicianship. To this end I insist upon the study of theory, harmony, ear-training and analysis. In the piano lessons I do not have sufficient time to teach these things. I have assistant teachers who help me with these subjects and also with the technical training. Once a month during the season, my assistant teachers bring their pupils to play for me, and we have a class in piano teaching. There are sometimes eighteen or twenty students who come to a class. I can in this way supervise all the work done, and keep in touch with my teachers, their work, and with all the students.

"On the first Saturday of the month I have my own pupils here for a class; they play for me and for each other. Everything is played from memory, not a printed note is used. Students tell me it is very difficult to play here, where all listen so intently. Especially is it difficult the first time a student plays in class, to keep the mind wholly on what he is doing, with sufficient concentration. Later on, at the end of the season, it comes easier.

"This idea of separating the technical work at the outset from the study of music itself, secures, in my opinion, the most perfect foundation, and later on the best results. It is sometimes wonderful how, with proper training, the hand will improve and develop in a comparatively short time. I often marvel at it myself."

The writer had the privilege of being one of the guests at the last audition of the season. Eight or nine young artists played a long and difficult program. Among the numbers were a Beethoven sonata, entire; Chopin's Ballade in A flat major; Cesar Franck, Prelude, Fugue and Variations; a Mozart Fantaisie; Grieg Concerto, first movement; Weber's Concertstueck, and Chopin's Scherzo in E. The recital was most instructive from an educational point of view. All the players had repose and concentration, and there were no noticeable slips, though every piece was played from memory. Hands were well arched at the knuckles, fingers curved--with adequate action at the knuckle joint; wrists in normal position, and extremely loose; the whole arm swung from the shoulder and poised over the keys, thus adjusting itself to every requirement of the composition. Every note had its amount of hand or arm weight. The tone quality was full and singing. These points were exemplified even in the playing of the youngest pupils. Furthermore they had an intelligent grasp of the meaning of the music they played, and brought it out with conviction, power, and brilliancy.

IX

CARL M. ROEDER

PROBLEMS OF PIANO TEACHERS

"The progressive teacher's method must be one of accretion," said Carl Roeder, when interviewed between lesson hours in his delightful studio in Carnegie Hall. "He gains ideas from many methods and sources, and these he assimilates and makes practical for his work. At the same time he must originate and work out things for himself. This has been my experience.

"I was something of a wonder child, and at an early age developed considerable facility and brilliancy. After knocking about as a pupil of various private teachers and conservatories, I became, while quite a young lad, the pupil of de Konstki, then a lion of the day." The speaker joined in the laugh his remark called up, which brought to mind the Chevalier's famous battle-horse, "The Awakening of the Lion."

"De Konstki's style was very brilliant and I endeavored to imitate him in this respect. I did quite a little concert work at that time. Realizing, however, that a pianist's income must be rather precarious, I decided to teach. In those youthful days I had the idea that the teacher of the piano had an easy life. I remembered one of my professors, a man of considerable reputation, who took the duties of his profession very lightly. His method of giving a lesson was to place the music upon the piano, start the pupil going, then retire to a comfortable couch, light his pipe and smoke at ease, troubling himself little about the pupil's doings, except occasionally to call out 'Falsch!'

"So I, too, began to teach the piano. But I soon discovered that teaching was something quite different from what I had imagined it to be, and that it was something I knew very little about. I now set myself to learn how to teach--how to help those pupils who came to me.

"One of my first discoveries was that most of the pupils were afflicted with stiff wrists and arms, and that this stiffness must be remedied. My own playing had always been free, due to one of my early teachers having thoroughly inculcated the principle of 'weight,' so often acclaimed in these days as a modern discovery. But how to bring about this condition in others was a great problem. I studied the Mason method, and found many helpful, illuminating ideas in regard to relaxation and devitalization. I had some lessons with S.B. Mills, and later did considerable valuable work with Paolo Gallico, who opened up to me the great storehouse of musical treasure, and revealed to me among other things the spiritual technic of the pianist's art. Subsequently I investigated the Virgil and Leschetizky methods. Mr. Virgil has done some remarkable things in the way of organizing and systematizing technical requirements, and for this we owe him much. Such analyses had not before been made with anything like the care and minuteness, and his work has been of the greatest benefit to the profession. My subsequent studies with Harold Bauer revealed him to be a deep musical thinker and a remarkable teacher of the meaning of music itself.

"In my teaching I follow many of the ideas of Leschetizky, modified and worked out in the manner which I have found most useful to my own technic and to that of my pupils. I have formulated a method of my own, based on the principles which form a dependable foundation to build the future structure upon. Each pupil at the outset is furnished with a blank book, in which are written the exercises thus developed as adapted to individual requirements.

FOUNDATIONAL EXERCISES

"We begin with table work. I use about ten different exercises which embody, as it were, in a nutshell, the principles of piano playing. The hand is first formed in an arched position, with curved fingers, and solidified. The thumb has to be taught to move properly, for many people have never learned to control it at all.

"With the hand in firm, solid position, and the arm hanging freely from the shoulder, I begin to use combined arm and wrist movements, aiming to get the weight of the arm as well as its energy at the complete disposal of the finger tip. Each finger in turn is held firmly in a curved position and played with a rotary movement of arm and wrist. When this can be done we next learn hand action at the wrist from which results the staccato touch. In this form of hand staccato there is an element of percussion, as you see, but this element gives directness and precision to the staccato touch, which in my opinion are necessary. After this we come to finger action itself. This principle is taken up thoroughly, first with one finger, then with two, three, four, and five--in all possible combinations. In this way we come down from the large free-arm movements to the smaller finger movements; from the 'general to the particular,' instead of working from the smaller to the larger. I find it most necessary to establish relaxation first, then strengthen and build up the hand, before finger action to any extent is used. When these foundational points have been acquired, the trill, scales, arpeggios, chords, octaves and double notes follow in due course. At the same time the rhythmic sense is developed, all varieties of touch and dynamics introduced, and harmonic and structural analysis dwelt upon.

USE OF STUDIES

"Above the third or fourth grade I make frequent use of studies, selecting them from various books. Duvernoy, Op. 120; Berens, Op. 61; Czerny, Op. 740 I find far more interesting than the threadbare 299. Heller is indispensable, so melodious and musical. Arthur Foote's studies, Op. 27, are very useful; also MacDowell's, Op. 39 and 46. Sometimes I use a few of Cramer's and the Clementi 'Gradus,' though these seem rather old-fashioned now.

"For more advanced pupils I find Harberbier, Op. 53 especially applicable; there is beautiful work in them. Kessler, Op. 20, and the Moszkowski studies, Op. 72, have splendid material for the advanced player, and prepare for Henselt, Rubinstein, Chopin and Liszt etudes. I find that studies are valuable for application of technical principles, for reacting purposes, and for the cultivation of all the refinements of playing. Some teachers believe in applying the technic directly to pieces, and use almost no studies; but I think a study is often more valuable than a piece, because a definite technical principle is treated in every kind of way. Though I do not require studies to be memorized, they must be played with all the finish of a piece, if the pupil is to derive the maximum of benefit from them.

BOOKS THAT ARE HELPFUL

"As aids to my studies in the art of teaching, several books have been most helpful. Among these are two volumes by Dr. Herman H. Home, _The Philosophy of Education_, and _The Psychology of Education_. Another book, from which I have profited much is William James' _Talks to Teachers on Psychology_. Every teacher should possess it.

"You ask what method I pursue with new pupils who have played a great deal of music but with little idea of correct principles of piano study. Let us take, for instance, one who has had lessons for years but is in ignorance of first principles. Arms and wrists are stiff, hands and fingers held in cramped position; no freedom anywhere. My first move is to have the pupil stand and learn to relax arms, shoulders and body; then learn to breathe. But relaxation, even at first, is not the only thing; after devitalization comes organization, firmness and solidity--in the right places. It must be understood at the very beginning that piano playing is far more than sitting before the instrument working the fingers six or seven hours a day. The mechanical side is only preliminary. Some one has said that the factors in playing are a trinity of H's--head, hand and heart. I try at once to awaken thought, to give a wider outlook, to show that piano playing is the expression, through the medium of tone, of all that the poet, painter and philosopher are endeavoring to show through other means: to this end I endeavor to stimulate interest in the wonders of the visible universe, the intellectual achievements of men and the deep things of spiritual discernment.

IN REGARD TO INTERPRETATION

"On this subject I think we should avoid pedantry; not to say to the pupil, you must play this piece a certain way; but rather say, I see or feel it in this way, and give the reasons underlying the conception. I believe the successful teacher should be a pianist. He should understand every point and be able to _do_ the thing, else how can he really show the manner of the doing? Many of the _nuances_, subtleties of color and phrase, effects of charm or of bravura, cannot be explained; they must be illustrated. And furthermore, only he who has been over the road can be a safe or sympathetic guide. Tolstoi realized he could not be of service to the people he would uplift unless he lived among them, shared their trials and experienced their needs. The time has gone by when the musician and composer was considered a sort of freak, knowing music and nothing else. We know the great composers were men of the highest intelligence and learning, men whose aim was to work out their genius to the utmost perfection. Nothing less than the highest would satisfy them. As George Eliot said, 'Genius is the capacity for taking infinite pains.' Think of the care Beethoven took with every phrase, how many times he did it over, never leaving it till he was satisfied."

In speaking of the great European teachers Mr. Roeder continued:

"We hear much of the Leschetizky method; but with that master technic is quite a secondary matter over which, when once the principles are mastered, he troubles himself but little. It is the conception of the work as a whole which concerns him, how to project it, so to say, most effectively to an audience. He brings into prominence now this part, now that, accenting here, slightly exaggerating there, in order to make the picture more vivid to the listener. Harold Bauer is another illuminating master for those who have a technical equipment adequate to the performance of great works of piano literature. Some go to him who are not ready for what he has to give, but to those who can direct attention to the meaning of the music, he is a wonderful inspirational force. First he will point out a phrase here, another there, and so on through the piece, showing how the same idea takes on various aspects in the composer's thought. Then he shows how to gather up these different threads to form the perfect pattern which the author of the work had in mind; and finally the master teacher reaches down below the surface of form and design to the vital significance of the composition, and the disciple feels the glow and power of the revelation.

"There is no gainsaying the fact that this age is superficial, and the great office of art is to cultivate that idealism which will uplift and inspire. In an important sense the teacher must be a preacher of righteousness. He knows that 'beautiful things are fashioned from clay, but it has first to pass through the fire,' and only those who can endure that scorching can hope to achieve success.

QUESTION OF PERSONALITY

"If asked to what extent a player's personality enters into the performance, my answer would be: Only in so far as the performance remains true to the composer's intention. So long as personality illumines the picture and adds charm, interest, and effectiveness to it, it is to be applauded; but when it obstructs the view and calls attention to itself it should not be tolerated. It is not art; it is vanity.

"Yes, I teach both high finger action and pressure touch, once the principle of arm weight is thoroughly established, although I use high finger action only to develop finger independence and precision, and for passages where sharp delineation is required. I believe in freedom of body, arm and wrist, a firm, solid arched hand and set fingers. That freedom is best which insures such control of the various playing members as to enable the player to produce at will any effect of power, velocity or delicacy desired; thereby placing the entire mechanical apparatus under complete subjection to the mind, which dominates the performance. In other words, I am neither an anarchist who wants no government, namely unrestrained devitalization, nor a socialist, whose cry is for all government--that is, restriction and rigidity. In piano playing, as in all else, 'Virtue is the happy mean between two vices.'"

X

KATHARINE GOODSON

AN ARTIST AT HOME

When one has frequently listened to a favorite pianist in the concert room, and has studied impersonally, so to speak, the effects of touch, tone and interpretation produced during a recital, it is a satisfaction and delight to come into personal touch with the artist in the inner circle of the home; to be able to speak face to face with one who has charmed thousands from the platform, and to discuss freely the points which impress one when listening to a public performance.

It has been my recent privilege thus to come into intimate touch with the artist pair, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Hinton, the latter being known all over the world as Katharine Goodson. They have a quiet, beautiful home in London--a true artist's home. One feels at once on entering and enjoying its hospitality, that here at least is one instance where two musicians have perfect harmony in the home life. Mr. Hinton, as is widely known, is a composer and also a violinist and pianist. The beautiful music-room, which has been added to one side of the house and leads into the garden, contains two grand pianos on its raised platform. This music-room is Miss Goodson's own sanctum and workroom, and here piano concertos, with orchestral accompaniment supplied on the second piano, can be studied _ad infinitum_. Mr. Hinton has his own studio at the top of the house.

The garden music-room is lighted at one end by a great arched window, so placed that the trees of the garden are seen through its panes. It is easy to imagine one's self in some lovely sylvan retreat--which is indeed true! All the appointments of this room, and indeed of the whole house, every article of furniture and each touch of color, betoken the artistic sense for fitness and harmony. Miss Goodson has a keen and exquisite sense for harmony in colors as well as for color in the harmonies she brings from her instrument.

"My coming tour will be the fifth I have made in America," she said. "I enjoy playing in your country immensely; the cities of New York, Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia are the most appreciative in the world. It is true we have masses of concerts in London, but few of them are really well attended and people are not so thoroughly acquainted with piano music as you are in America. And you are so appreciative of the best--even in the smaller cities.

"I can recall a recital which I gave in a city of not more than forty thousand, in the West. The recital was arranged by a musical club; they asked for the program some time in advance, studied it up and thus knew every piece I was to play. There was an enormous audience, for people came from all the country round. I remember three little elderly ladies who greeted me after the recital; in parting they said, 'You will see us to-morrow,' I thought it over afterward and wondered what they meant, for I was to play at a place many miles from there the next night. What was my surprise to be greeted by the same ladles the following evening. 'You see, we are here; we told you we would come.' Fancy taking a trip from London to Edinburgh just to hear a concert! For it was a journey like that. Such incidents show the enthusiasm in America for music--and for piano music.

"I hope to play both the Brahms and Paderewski concertos in America. To me the latter is a beautiful work--the slow movement is exquisite. I have as yet scarcely done anything with the composition, for I have been on a long tour through Norway, Sweden, and Finland. It was most inspiring to play for these people; they want me to come back to them now, but I cannot do so, nor can I go next season, but after that I shall go. I returned home greatly in need of rest. I shall now begin work in earnest, however, as summer is really the only time I have for study throughout the year. I shall have six full weeks now before we take our usual holiday in the Grindelwald. On the way there we shall stop at Morges and visit Paderewski, and then I will go over the concerto with him and get his ideas as to interpretation.

MEMORIZING BY ANALYSIS

"You ask how I memorize. First I go over the work several times to get a general idea of the whole. Then I analyze it, for I feel it absolutely necessary to know keys, chords, and construction. A work should be so well understood along these lines that it can be played in another key as well as in the one in which it is written. For the actual memorizing of the piece I generally do it phrase by phrase, not always 'each hand alone,' though occasionally I do this also. I remember learning the Bach A minor Prelude and Fugue in this way. If I were now asked to play any measure or passage in any part of it I could do so; it is mine forever, never to be forgotten."

Asked about the different ways of teaching the Leschetizky method by various teachers, Miss Goodson said:

"As we all know, people claim to understand and teach the Leschetizky principles who are not competent to do so. I do not recall, for instance, that the professor requires the tips of the fingers to form a straight line on the edge of the keys. I myself have never done this. I believe in a perfectly easy and natural position of hand at the keyboard. When this is the case the finger-tips form a curve, the middle fingers being placed a little farther in on the keys than is natural for the first and fifth. Of course the hand takes an arched position and the joints nearest the tip of the fingers must be firm; there should be no wavering nor giving in there. The whole arm, of course, is relaxed, and swings easily from the shoulder.

A PIANO HAND

"I have, as you say, a good hand for the piano; much depends on that; I have always had a good deal of what is called a natural technic. Thus when I am obliged to forego practising I do not lose my facility; an hour's work puts the hand in condition again. What do I do to accomplish this? Different things. First some finger movements, perhaps with fingers in an extended chord position; then some scales and arpeggios; then a Chopin etude, and so on. When practising regularly, I do not generally work at the piano more than four hours a day; it seems to me that amount is sufficient, if used with absolute concentration."

Later we adjourned to the pretty garden back of the music-room, and here we were joined by a beautiful gray Angora cat, the pet and pride of his mistress, and a very important personage indeed. He has a trick of climbing to Miss Goodson's shoulder, from which point of vantage he surveys the world about him with all the complaisance of which an animal of such high degree is capable.

XI

MARK HAMBOURG

FORM, TECHNIC, AND EXPRESSION

In one of the most quiet, secluded quarters of London can be found the home of the Russian pianist, Mark Hambourg. Mr. Hambourg lives on a terrace, "far from the madding crowd," and difficult enough of access to keep mere curiosity seekers at a distance. One can scarcely picture to one's self, without an actual sight of them, the quaint charm of these short passages or streets, usually termed "terraces," or "gardens." This particular terrace looks out on a restful green park, where luxuriant trees make long shadows on the sunlit turf. The house is large and comfortable--built over a hundred years ago; its rooms are spacious, and the drawing-room and library, which lead one into the other, form a fine music salon. Surely, amid such surroundings, with priceless pictures and _objets d'art_ all about, with exquisite colors, with space and quiet, an artist must find an ideal spot for both work and play. I expressed this thought to Mr. Hambourg when he entered; then we soon fell to discussing the necessary equipment of the teacher and pianist.

"I agree with you," he said, "that it is the beginning of piano study which is the most difficult of all; this is where the teacher has such great responsibility and where so many teachers are so incompetent. Perhaps there are more poor teachers for the piano than for the voice. The organs of voice production cannot be seen, they can only be guessed at; so there may be a little more excuse for the vocal teacher; but for the piano we have the keys and the fingers. It should not therefore be such a very difficult thing to learn to play intelligently and correctly! Yet few seem to have got hold of the right principles or know how to impart them."

"I have heard a number of the young pianists here," I remarked, "and they all play with very little finger action--with fingers close to the keys. Do you advocate this?"

LOW HAND POSITION

"Do not forget that for centuries England has been a country of organists; without doubt organ playing has had some effect on the piano touch. Some schools of piano playing advise lifting the fingers high above the keys, with a view to producing greater power; but I think the tone thus produced is often of a somewhat harsh and disagreeable quality. Then, too, high lifting interferes with smoothness and velocity. For myself I advocate keeping the fingers close to the keyboard, and pressing the keys, which gives the tone a warmer and more elastic quality."

"A point in hand position I should like to ask you about. Some teachers advise placing the finger-tips close to the edge of the keys, forming a straight line with them; it seems to me such a position is forced and unnatural."

Mr. Hambourg smiled assent.

"I do not advocate anything forced and unnatural," he answered. "So many people think that a beautiful touch is 'born, not made,' but I do not agree with them. One can acquire, I am sure, a fine piano touch with the proper study. The principal requirement is, first of all, a loose wrist. This point seems simple enough, but it is a point not sufficiently considered nor understood. No matter how much the player may _feel_ the meaning of the music, he cannot express this meaning with stiff wrists and arms. Some people have a natural flexibility, and to such the securing of a musical tone presents far less difficulty; but with time, patience, and thought, I fully believe all can arrive at this goal.

AMOUNT OF PRACTISE

"In regard to practise I do not think it wise for the aspiring pianist to spend such a great amount of time at the piano. Four hours of concentrated work daily seems to me sufficient. Of course it is the quality of practise that counts. The old saying, 'Practise makes perfect,' does not mean constant repetition merely, but constant thinking and listening. I advise students to stop after playing a passage several times, and think over what the notes mean. This pause will rest ears and hands; in a few moments work can be resumed with fresh vigor.

"I have been so frequently asked to write on the subject of technic that I have done so in a few articles which have been printed in a small booklet. From these you may see what my ideas are on these points. I do very little teaching myself--just a few talented pupils; they must be something out of the ordinary. You see, I do not live in London continuously; I am here only about four months of the year; the rest of the time is spent traveling all over the world. Only that small part of the year when I am stationary can I do any solid work. Here it is generally quiet enough: the Zoological Garden is not far away, however, and sometimes I have the roaring of the lions as an accompaniment to my piano.

"I am always increasing my repertoire, though I find the public does not care for new things; it prefers the old. It may listen to the new if forced to, but it will not attend a recital unless various familiar things are on the program.

"I have made several tours in America. The rush of travel from place to place over there, is fatiguing, but I feel that your people are very appreciative. You demand the best, and concert giving in America is so costly that a manager can afford to exploit only the highest artists. Here in London, where the expense is only about two hundred dollars, say, to get up a recital, almost any one can scrape together that sum and bring himself or herself before the public. In America the outlay is four or five times greater. No wonder that only a very good artist can take the risk."

On leaving, Mr. Hambourg took us to another room, where he showed us with much satisfaction, a very valuable painting of the old Italian school, by Ghirlandajo, of which he is very fond.

XII

TOBIAS MATTHAY

WATCHING THE ARTIST TEACHER AT WORK

One of the first things accomplished after my arrival in London was to seek out Tobias Matthay, the composer and teacher, for an echo of his fame had reached me across the water.

Matthay has done much to make the principles of piano technic so clear and simple that even a child can understand them. If he has stated facts in a way which seems to some revolutionary it is because these facts are seldom understood by the rank and file of piano teachers. The work he has done has compelled attention and admiration; his ideas are now accepted as undeniable truths by those who at first repudiated them. The writings of Mr. Matthay will doubtless be better known in America a little later on than they are at present. They consist in part of an exhaustive work on _The Act of Touch in all its Diversity; First Principles of Piano Playing; Relaxation Studies; The Child's First Steps in Piano Playing; The Principles of Fingering and Laws of Pedaling; Forearm Rotation Principle;_ and, in press, _The Principles of Teaching Interpretation_. These very titles are inspiring and suggestive, and show Matthay to be a deep thinker along educational lines.

Matthay's activities are enormous. He is professor of advanced piano playing at the Royal Academy of Music; also founder and head of his own school of piano playing. So occupied early and late is he, that it is almost impossible to get a word with him. I was fortunate enough, however, to obtain an hour's audience, and also permission to attend various private classes at the Royal Academy, and hear a number of pupils in recital.

In appearance Matthay is a striking personality. His head and features recall pictures of Robert Louis Stevenson. His tall, muscular form has the stoop of the scholar; and little wonder when one remembers he must sit in his chair at work day in and day out. His somewhat brusk manner melts into kind amiability when discussing the topics in which he is vitally interested. In his intercourse with students he is ever kind, sympathetic and encouraging. They, on their part, treat him with profound respect.

Matthay believes, and rightly, that the beginning pupil should learn essentials of note values, rhythm, time, ear-training and so on, before attempting to play anything at the piano. When first taken to the instrument, its mechanism is carefully explained to the learner, and what he must do to make a really musical tone. He says _(Child's First Steps)_: "Before you take the very first step in tone production, be sure to understand that you must never touch the piano without trying to make music. It is only too easy to sound notes without making music at all. To make music we must make all the sounds mean something, just as it is no use to pretend to speak unless the sounds we make with our lips mean something, that is unless they form reasoned phrases and sentences."

Here nothing is left vague. Matthay shows clearly how all musical Form and Shape imply Movement and Progression: the movement of a phrase toward its cadence; the movement of a group of notes toward a beat or pulse ahead, or the movement of a whole piece toward its climax, etc. This original view of his regarding form, which he has advocated for the last twenty years, is now being accepted generally by the more up-to-date of the English theorists and teachers.

In regard to key mechanism and what must be done to produce all varieties of touch and tone, Matthay has made exhaustive studies. He says (_First Principles of Piano Playing_): "The two chief rules of technic, as regards the key, are, therefore: Always feel how much the key resists you: feel how much the key _wants_ for every note. Second, Always listen for the moment each sound begins, so that you may learn to direct your effort to the sound only, and not to the key bed. You must never hit a key down, nor hit _at_ it. The finger-tip may fall on the key, and in gently reaching the key you may follow up such fall by acting against the key. This action against the key must be for the sole purpose of making it move--in one of the many ways which each give us quite a different kind of sound. And you must always direct such action to the point in key descent where the sound begins."

I quote also this little summary from the same work:

"(a) It is only by making the hammer-end of the key move that you can make a sound. (b) The swifter the movement the louder the sound. (c) The more gradual this swiftness is obtained the more beautiful the quality of sound. (d) For brilliant tone you may hit the string by means of the key, but do not, by mistake, hit the key instead. (e) You must 'aim' the key to the _beginning_ of each sound, because the hammer falls off the string as you hear that beginning, and it is too late then to influence the sound except its continuance. (f) It is wrong to squeeze the key beds, because it prevents tone, impairs musical result, impedes agility, and is, besides, fatiguing. (g) You must feel the 'giving way point' of the key, so that you may be able to tell how much force is required for each note. Never, therefore, really hit the keys."

Mr. Matthay as minutely gives directions as to the muscular problems of touch and technique. For instance, he explains how all varieties of tone, good and bad, are caused, all inflections of Duration, and the laws which govern the attainment of Agility and ease of Technique; and also explains the nature of incorrect muscular actions which prevent the attainment of all these things. He shows where the released arm weight should be applied, and again, where it should be eliminated; makes clear the two opposite forms of technic implied by "flat" and "bent" finger actions, and he goes exhaustively into the little-understood question of forearm rotary exertions, the correct application of which he proves to be necessary for every note we play.

In speaking of methods in piano teaching, Mr. Matthay said to me: