Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

"I can say I have no method _of playing_, and moreover I have not much faith in people who have. My teachings merely show how all playing, good or bad, is accomplished. There are certain principles, however, which every player should know, but which, I am sorry to say, are as yet scarcely apprehended even by the best teachers. The great pianists have experimented till they have hit upon effects which they can repeat if all conditions are favorable, and they are in the mood. As a rule they do not know the laws underlying these effects. You may ask the greatest pianists, for example, how to play octaves. 'Oh, I play them thus'--illustrating. Just what to do to attain this result they cannot explain. In my own case I have done much experimenting, but always with the view to discovering _how_ things are done--the facts and laws governing actual tone production and interpretation. I made a study of Rubinstein's playing, for I found he played a great deal better than I did. So I discovered many things in listening to him, which he perhaps could not have explained to me. These facts are incontrovertible and I have brought many of my colleagues to see the truth of them. More than this, I have brought many even of my older colleagues who had a life-time of wrong mental habits to impede them, to realize the truth of my teachings.

"The work of a teacher should speak for itself. For my own part I never advertise, for I can point to hundreds of pupils--this is no exaggeration in the least!--who are constantly before the public, as concert pianists and successful teachers.

"If there is one thing that rouses me deeply, it is the incompetence of so many teachers of piano. They say to the pupil: 'You play badly, you must play better'; but they do not tell the pupil _how_ to play better. They give doses of etudes, sonatas and pieces, yet never get at the heart of the matter at all. It is even worse than the fake singing teachers; I feel like saying it is damnable!"

It was my privilege to be present at some of Mr. Matthay's private lessons, given at the Royal Academy. Several young men were to try for one of the medals, and were playing the same piece, one of the Strauss-Tausig Valse Caprices.

Matthay listens to a complete performance of the work in hand, then turns back to the beginning and goes over it again for corrections and suggestions. He enters into it with absolute devotion, directing with movements of head and hands as a conductor might direct an orchestra; sometimes he dashes down a chord in the treble to urge more force; at other times lays a restraining hand on the player's arm, where the tone should be softer. His blue pencil is often busy adding phrasing marks. In the pauses he talks over with the pupil the character of the piece, and the effects he thinks should be made. In short his lessons are most helpful and illuminating.

I also had the opportunity to attend a pupils' "Practise Concert," and here the results attained were little short of marvelous. Small children, both boys and girls, played difficult pieces, like the Grieg Variations for two pianos, the Weber _Invitation to the Dance_, and works by Chopin and Liszt, with accuracy and fluency. Almost every selection was played from memory. The tone was always musical and often of much power, and the pupils seemed thoroughly to understand what they were doing and the meaning of the music. They certainly exemplified the professor's maxim:

"Never touch the piano without trying to make music."

* * * * *

Not long afterward I received a copy of the new book, which had just come from the press. Its comprehensive title is _Musical Interpretation, its Laws and Principles, and their Application in Teaching and Performing_. The material was first presented in the form of lectures; on repeated requests it has been issued in book form. The author at the outset claims no attempt to treat such a complex problem exhaustively; he has, however, selected the following seven points for elucidation:

1. The difference between Practise and Strumming. 2. The difference between Teaching and Cramming. 3. How one's mind can be brought to bear on one's work. 4. Correct ideas of Time and Shape. 5. Elements of Rubato and its application. 6. Elements of Duration and Pedaling and their application. 7. Some details as to the application of the Element of Tone-variety.

Such themes must cause the thoughtful reader to pause and think. They are treated with illuminating originality. The great aim of the teacher must ever be to awaken thought along correct lines; the pupil must be assisted to concentrate his thought on what he is doing: to constantly think and listen. Teaching does not consist merely in pointing out faults; the teacher must make clear the _cause_ of each fault and the way to correct it. That section of the book devoted to the Element of Rubato, is illustrated with many examples from well-known compositions, by which the principle is explained. He shows how frequently this principle is misunderstood by the inexperienced, who seem to think that rubato means breaking the time; whereas true rubato is the _bending_ of the time, but not _breaking_ it. If we give extra time to certain notes, we must take some time from other notes, in order to even things up.

The subject of Pedaling is aptly explained by means of numerous illustrations. The author deplores the misuse of the damper pedal, which can be made to ruin all the care and effort bestowed on phrasing and tonal effects by the fingers. The fault can, in most cases, be traced to inattention to the sounds coming from the piano.

There are quotable paragraphs on every page, which in their sincerity and earnestness, their originality of expression, stamp themselves on the reader's imagination. Every teacher who is serious in his work and has the best interests of his pupils at heart, should read and ponder these pages.

XIII

HAROLD BAUER

THE QUESTION OF PIANO TONE

Buried deep in the heart of old Paris, in one of the narrow, busy thoroughfares of the city, stands the ancient house in which the master pianist, Harold Bauer, has made a home.

One who is unfamiliar with Paris would never imagine that behind those rows of uninviting buildings lining the noisy, commercial street, there lived people of refined and artistic tastes. All the entrances to the buildings look very much alike--they seem to be mere slits in the walls. I stopped before one of the openings, entered and crossed a paved courtyard, climbed a winding stone stairway, rang at a plain wooden doorway, and was ushered into the artist's abode. Once within, I hardly dared to speak, lest what I saw might vanish away, as with the wave of a fairy's wand. Was I not a moment before down in that dusty, squalid street, and here I am now in a beautiful room whose appointments are all of quiet elegance--costly but in exquisite taste, and where absolute peace and quiet reign. The wide windows open upon a lovely green garden, which adds the final touch of restful repose to the whole picture.

Mr. Bauer was giving a lesson in the music salon beyond, from which issued, now and again, echoes of well-beloved themes from a Chopin sonata. When the lesson was over he came out to me.

"Yes, this is one of the old houses, of the sort that are fast passing away in Paris," he said, answering my remark; "there are comparatively few of them left. This building is doubtless at least three hundred years old. In this quarter of the city--in the rue de Bac, for instance--you may find old, forbidding looking buildings, that within are magnificent--perfect palaces; at the back of them, perhaps, will be a splendid garden; but the whole thing is so hidden away that even the very existence of such grandeur and beauty would never be suspected from without."

He then led the way to the music-room, where we had an hour's talk.

"I was thinking as I drove down here," I began, "what the trend of our talk might be, for you have already spoken on so many subjects for publication. It occurred to me to ask how you yourself secure a beautiful tone on the piano, and how you teach others to make it?"

Mr. Bauer thought an instant.

"I am not sure that I do make it; in fact I do not believe in a single beautiful tone on the piano. Tone on the piano can only be beautiful in the right place--that is, in relation to other tones. You or I, or the man in the street, who knows nothing about music, may each touch a piano key, and that key will sound the same, whoever moves it, from the nature of the instrument. A beautiful tone may result when two or more notes are played successively, through their _difference of intensity_, which gives variety. A straight, even tone is monotonous--a dead tone. Variety is life. We see this fact exemplified even in the speaking voice; if one speaks or reads in an even tone it is deadly monotonous.

VARIETY OF TONE

"Now the singer or the violinist can make a single tone on his instrument beautiful through variety; for it is impossible for him to make even _one_ tone which does not have shades of variation in it, however slight they may be, which render it expressive. But you cannot do this on the piano: you cannot color a single tone; but you can do this with a succession of tones, through their difference, through their relation to each other. On the other hand you may say any tone is beautiful if in the right place, no matter how harsh it may be. The singer's voice may break from emotion, or simulated emotion, in an impassioned phrase. The exact note on which it breaks may not be a beautiful one, it may even be very discordant, but we do not think of that, for we are moved by the meaning back of the tones. So on the piano there may be one note in a phrase which, if heard alone, would sound harsh and unpleasant, but in its relation to other tones it sounds beautiful, for it gives the right meaning and effect. Thus it is the _relation of tones_ which results in a 'beautiful tone' on the piano.

"The frequent trouble is that piano teachers and players generally do not understand their instrument. A singer understands his, a violinist, flutist or drummer knows his, but not a pianist. As he only has keys to put down and they are right under his hand, he does not bother himself further. To obviate this difficulty, for those who come to me, I have had this complete model of piano-key mechanism made. You see I can touch the key in a variety of ways, and the results will be different each time. It is necessary for the pianist to look into his instrument, learn its construction, and know what happens inside when he touches a key.

"As you say, there are a great many methods of teaching the piano, but to my mind they are apt to be long, laborious, and do not reach the vital points. The pianist may arrive at these after long years of study and experimenting, but much of his time will be wasted in useless labor.

"In my own case, I was forced by necessity to make headway quickly. I came to Paris years ago as a violinist, but there seemed no opening for me then in that direction. There was opportunity, however, for ensemble work with a good violinist and 'cellist. So I set to work to acquire facility on the piano as quickly as possible. I consulted all the pianists I knew--and I knew quite a number--as to what to do. They told me I must spend many months on technic alone before I could hope to play respectably, but I told them I had no time for that. So I went to work to study out the effects I needed. It didn't matter to me _how_ my hand looked on the keyboard; whether my fingers were curved, flat, or stood on end. I was soon able to get my effects and to convince others that they were the effects I wanted. Later on, when I had more leisure, I took more thought about the position of hand and fingers. But I am convinced that much time is spent uselessly on externals, which do not reach the heart of the matter.

"For instance, players struggle for years to acquire a perfectly even scale. Now I don't believe in that at all. I don't believe a scale ever should be even, either in tone or in rhythm. The beginner's untrained efforts at a scale sound like this"--the speaker illustrated at the piano with a scale in which all the tones were blurred and run into each other; then he continued, "After a year's so-called 'correct training,' his scale sounds like this"--again he illustrated, playing a succession of notes with one finger, each tone standing out by itself. "To my thinking such teaching is not only erroneous, it is positively poisonous--yes, _poisonous_!"

"Is it to be inferred that you do not approve of scale practise?"

"Oh, I advise scale playing surely, for facility in passing the thumb under and the hand over is very necessary. I do not, however, desire the even, monotonous scale, but one that is full of variety and life.

"In regard to interpretation, it should be full of tonal and rhythmic modifications. Briefly it may be said that expression may be exemplified in four ways: loud, soft, fast, and slow. But within these crude divisions what infinite shades and gradations may be made! Then the personal equation also comes in. Variety and differentiation are of supreme importance--they are life!

"I go to America next season, and after that to Australia; this will keep me away from my Paris home for a long time to come. I should like to give you a picture to illustrate this little talk. Here is a new one which was taken right here in this room, as I sat at the piano, with the strong sunlight pouring in at the big window at my left."

* * * * *

On a subsequent occasion, Mr. Bauer spoke further on some phases of his art.

"As you already know I do not believe in so-called 'piano technic,' which must be practised laboriously outside of pieces. I do not believe in spending a lot of time in such practise, for I feel it is time wasted and leads nowhere. I do not believe, for instance, in the struggle to play a perfectly even scale. A scale should never be 'even,' for it must be full of variety and life. A perfectly even scale is on a dead level; it has no life; it is machine-made. The only sense in which the word 'even' may be applied to a scale is for its rhythmic quality; but even in this sense a beautiful scale has slight variations, so that it is never absolutely regular, either in tone or rhythm.

"Then I do not believe in taking up a new composition and working at the technical side of it first. I study it in the first place from the musical side. I see what may be the meaning of the music, what ideas it seeks to convey, what was in the composer's mind when he wrote it. In other words, I get a good general idea of the composition as a whole; when I have this I can begin to work out the details.

"In this connection I was interested in reading a statement made by Ruskin in his _Modern Painters_. The statement, which, I think, has never been refuted, is that while the great Italian painters, Raphael, Coreggio, and the rest have left many immature and imperfect pictures and studies in color, their drawings are mature and finished, showing that they made many experiments and studies in color before they thought of making the finished black and white drawing. It seems they put the art thought first before the technical detail. This is the way I feel and the way I work.

AVOID RESTRICTING RULES

"Because our ancestors were brought up to study the piano a certain way, and we--some of us--have been trained along the same rigid lines, does not mean there are no better, broader, less limited ways of reaching the goal we seek. We do not want to limit ourselves or our powers. We do not need to say: 'Now I have thought out the conception of this composition to my present satisfaction; I shall always play it the same way.' How can we feel thus? It binds us at once with iron shackles. How can I play the piece twice exactly alike? I am a different man to-day from what I was yesterday, and shall be different to-morrow from what I am to-day. Each day is a new world, a new life. Don't you see how impossible it is to give two performances of the piece which shall be identical in every particular? It _is_ possible for a machine to make any number of repetitions which are alike, but a human, with active thought and emotion, has a broader outlook.

"The question as to whether the performer must have experienced every emotion he interprets is as old as antiquity. You remember in the Dialogues of Plato, Socrates was discussing with another sage the point as to whether an actor must have felt every emotion he portrayed in order to be a true artist. The discussion waxed warm on both sides. Socrates' final argument was, If the true artist must have lived through every experience in order to portray it faithfully, then, if he had to act a death scene he would have to die first in order to picture it with adequate fidelity!"

THE QUESTION OF VELOCITY

In speaking of velocity in piano playing and how it is to be acquired, Mr. Bauer continued:

"I believe the quality of velocity is inherent--an integral part of one's thought. Even a child, if he has this inherent quality, can play a simple figure of five notes as fast as they need to be played. People of the South--not on this side of the water--but of Spain and Italy, are accustomed to move quickly; they gesticulate with their hands and are full of life and energy. It is no trouble for them to think with velocity. Two people will set out to walk to a given point; they may both walk fast, according to their idea of that word, but one will cover the ground much more quickly than the other. I think this idea of a time unit is again a limiting idea. There can be _no_ fixed and fast rule as to the tempo of a composition; we cannot be bound by such rules. The main thing is: Do I understand the meaning and spirit of the composition, and can I make these clear to others? Can I so project this piece that the picture is alive? If so, the fact as to whether it is a few shades slower or faster does not enter into the question at all.

OBTAINING POWER

"Many players totally mistake in what power consists. They think they must exert great strength in order to acquire sufficient power. Many women students have this idea; they do not realize that power comes from contrast. This is the secret of the effect of power. I do not mean to say that we must not play with all the force we have at times; we even have to pound and bang occasionally to produce the needed effects. This only proves again that a tone may be beautiful, though in itself harsh, if this harshness comes in the right time and place.

"As with velocity so with power; there is _no_ fixed and infallible rule in regard to it, for that would only be another limitation to the feeling, the poetry, the emotion of the executant's _thought_. The quality and degree of power are due to contrast, and the choice of the degree to be used lies with the player's understanding of the content of the piece and his ability to bring out this content and place it in all its perfection and beauty before the listener. This is his opportunity to bring out the higher, the spiritual meaning."

XIV

A VISIT TO RAOUL PUGNO

TRAINING THE CHILD

"An audience has been arranged for you to-day, with M. Raoul Pugno; he will await you at four o'clock, in his Paris studio." Thus wrote the courteous representative of _Musical America_ in Paris.

It had been very difficult to make appointments with any of the famous French musicians, owing to their being otherwise engaged, or out of the city. I therefore welcomed this opportunity for meeting at least one of the great pianists of France.

At the appointed hour that afternoon, we drove through the busy rue de Clicy, and halted at the number which had been indicated. It proved to be one of those unpromising French apartment buildings, which present, to the passer-by, a stern facade of flat wall, broken by rows of shuttered windows, which give no hint of what may be hidden behind them. In this case we did not find the man we sought in the front portion of the building, but were directed to cross a large, square court. The house was built around this court, as was the custom in constructing the older sort of dwellings.

At last we discovered the right door, which was opened by a neat housekeeper.

"M. Pugno is not here, he lives in the country," she said, in answer to our inquiry. (How difficult these French musicians are to find; they seem to be one and all "in the country"!)

"But, madame, we have an appointment with M. Pugno; will you not be good enough to see if he is not here after all?"

She left us standing, but returned almost immediately with the message that M. Pugno had only that moment entered his studio, to which she would conduct us.

In another moment we had crossed the tiny foyer and were standing within the artist's sanctuary. At first glance one felt as though in an Oriental chamber of some Eastern monarch. Heavy gold and silver Turkish embroideries hung over doors and windows. The walls were covered with many rare paintings; rich _objets d'art_ were scattered about in profusion; an open door led out into a pretty garden, where flowers bloomed, and a fountain _dripped_ into its marble basin. A raised dais at one side of the room held a divan, over which were draperies of Oriental stuffs. On this divan, as on a throne, sat the great pianist we had come to see. He made a stately and imposing figure as he sat there, with his long silvery beard and his dignified bearing. Near him sat a pretty young woman, whom we soon learned was Mlle. Nadia Boulanger, a composer and musician of brilliant attainments.

"I regret that I am unable to converse with you in English, as I speak no language but my own," began M. Pugno, with a courteous wave of the hand for us to be seated.

"You wish to know some of my ideas on piano playing--or rather on teaching. I believe a child can begin to study the piano at a very early age, if he show any aptitude for it; indeed the sooner he begins the better, for then he will get over some of the drudgery by the time he is old enough to understand a little about music.

TRAINING THE CHILD

"Great care must be taken with the health of the child who has some talent for music, so that he shall not overdo in his piano study. After all a robust physical condition is of the first importance, for without it one can do little.

"A child in good health can begin as early as five or six years. He must be most judiciously trained from the start. As the ear is of such prime importance in music, great attention should be paid to tone study--to listening to and distinguishing the various sounds, and to singing them if possible, in solfeggio.

"At the outset a good hand position must be secured, with correct finger movements. Then there must be a thorough drill in scales, arpeggios, chords, and a variety of finger exercises, before any kind of pieces are taken up. The young student in early years, is expected to play various etudes, as well as the technic studies I have mentioned--Czerny, Cramer, Clementi, and always Bach. In my position, as member of the faculty of the Conservatoire, a great many students pass before me. If I personally accept any pupils, they naturally must be talented and advanced, as I cannot give my time to the children. Still it is interesting to see the child-thought develop."

The conversation turned upon the charming studio with its lovely garden--where absolute quiet could be secured in spite of the noise and bustle of one of the busiest quarters of Paris. The studio itself, we were told, had formerly belonged to the painter Decamps, and some of the pictures and furnishings were once his. A fine portrait of Pugno, life size, filling the whole space above the piano, claimed our attention. He kindly rose, as we admired the painting, and sought a photograph copy. When it was found--the last one he possessed--he presented it with his compliments.

We spoke of Mlle. Boulanger's work in composition, a subject which seemed deeply to interest M. Pugno.

"Yes, she is writing an opera; in fact we are writing it together; the text is from a story of d'Annunzio. I will jot down the title for you."

Taking a paper which I held in my hand, he wrote,

_"La Ville Morte, 4 Acts de d'Annuncio; Musique de Nadia Boulanger et Raoul Pugno"_

"You will certainly have it performed in America, when it is finished; I will tell them so," I said.

The great pianist smiled blandly and accepted the suggestion with evident satisfaction.

"Yes, we will come to America and see the work performed, when it is completed," he said.

With many expressions of appreciation we took our leave of the Oriental studio and its distinguished occupants; and, as we regained the busy, noisy rue de Clicy, we said to ourselves that we had just lived through one of the most unique experiences of our stay in Paris.

* * * * *

(The above is the last interview ever taken from this great French artist, who passed away a few months later.)

* * * * *

The following items concerning M. Pugno's manner of teaching and personal traits, were given me by Mme. Germaine Schnitzer, the accomplished French pianist and the master's most gifted pupil.

"Pugno had played the piano almost from infancy, and in early youth had taken several piano prizes. Later, however, he gave much more of his time to the organ, to the seeming neglect of the former instrument. How his serious attention was reverted to the piano happened in this wise. It was announced that Edward Grieg, the noted Norwegian, was coming to Paris. Pugno was one day looking over his piano Concerto which had recently appeared. 'Why don't you play the work for the composer when he comes?' asked a friend. 'I am no pianist,' objected Pugno. 'Why not?' said his friend; 'you know enough about the piano, and there are still four weeks in which to learn the Concerto.' Pugno took the advice, practised up the work, played it in the concert given by Grieg, and scored a success. He was then thirty-nine years of age. This appearance was the beginning; other engagements and successes followed, and thus he developed into one of the great pianists of France.

"Pugno was a born pianist; he had a natural gift for technic, and therefore never troubled himself much about teaching technical exercises nor practising them. If the work of a pupil contained technical faults, he made no remarks nor explanations, but simply closed the music book and refused to listen any further. The pupil, of course, retired in discomfiture. He was fond of playing along with the pupil (generally with the left hand), or singing the melodies and themes, in order to give him ideas of the meaning and interpretation of the music. This gave independence to the pupils, though it often afforded them much amusement.

"With advanced students Pugno spoke much about music and what it could express; he translated themes and passages back into the feelings and emotions which had originated them; he showed how all emotions find their counterpart in tones. 'Above all let kindness and goodness control you,' he once wrote; 'if you are filled with kindness, your tone will be beautiful!'

"Pugno's instruction took the form of talks on the inner meaning of the composition, and the art of interpreting it, rather than any training on the technical side; about the latter he concerned himself very little. It goes without saying that only talented pupils made progress under such a master; indeed those without talent interested him not at all. He was a wonderful teacher for those who had the insight to read between the lines, and were able to follow and absorb his artistic enthusiasms.

"I have said that Pugno did not concern himself about teaching the technical side of piano playing. Even with me, his best pupil, he rarely touched upon technical points. I must mention a notable exception. He gave me one technical principle, expressed in a few simple exercises, which I have never heard of from any one else. The use of this principle has helped me amazingly to conquer many knotty passages. I have never given these exercises to any one; I am willing however, to jot them down for you."

(The following is a brief plan of the exercises, as sketched by Mme. Schnitzer)

"Pugno wished the thirty-seconds and sixty-fourths to be played with the utmost quickness. This idea is not alone applicable to all scales, but can be used with any difficult passage found in a composition.

"Pugno took a keen interest in my work, my progress and career. A few sentences culled here and there from the many letters of his which I have preserved, may serve to throw more light on the inner nature of the man:

"'I have endeavored to make clear to your young mind the thoughts expressed in music, so that your understanding and your emotions also might grow; all this has created a link of gratitude in you and an affection within me. I have opened the windows for you and have given you light, and I have reaped the satisfaction of my sowing.'

"'Hear all the music you can--do not miss any of the pianists either good or bad; there is always something to be learned, even from a poor player--if it is only what to avoid! Study great works, but even in those there are some figures and phrases which need not be brought into the foreground, lest they attain too much significance.'

"(After playing with Hans Richter's Orchestra): 'What intoxication of sound--what exhilaration and collaboration in music! What a force within us, which sways us and throbs through us, developing and expressing each sentiment and instinct! What art can be compared to music, which finds expression through this medium, called an orchestra. I feel myself greater amid the orchestra, for I have a giant to converse with. I keep pace with him, I lead him where I will--I calm him and I embrace him. We supplement each other; in a moment of authority I become his master and subdue him. The piano alone is too small for me; it does not tempt me to play it except under such conditions--with a grand orchestra!'"

XV

THUEL BURNHAM

THE "MELODY" AND "COLORATURA" HAND

A prominent figure in the musical life of Paris is Thuel Burnham, pianist and teacher.

Mr. Burnham is an American, who for a number of years has made his home in Paris. He has studied with the greatest masters of his instrument on both sides of the water. More than this he is a musical thinker who has worked out things for himself, amalgamating what he has found best in other methods with what he has discovered in his own experience. He has been able to simplify the whole fabric of technical material, so there is no time lost in useless labor.

As a pianist Mr. Burnham takes high rank. Technical difficulties do not exist for him. He has come to the last turning of the road; before him rise the heights of supreme spiritual mastery. A touch that is limpid, clear, and capable of many gradations of tints; splendid power in _fortissimo_; delicacy, velocity and variety are all his; together with all this he has a sympathetic insight into the mood and meaning of the composer. Of late he has been giving several recitals of a semi-private nature, at which he has brought out some of the larger works in his repertoire. These recitals have taken place in his charming studios, and it was my good fortune to be present when two concertos were played, the MacDowell in D minor, and the Grieg in A minor. Mr. Burnham is a warm admirer of the works of our great American composer, and has prepared an entire program of MacDowell's music, which included the Tragica Sonata, Polonaise, and many of the shorter pieces.

In a conversation with Mr. Burnham in regard to methods of teaching, he gave many helpful points, explaining how he had reduced technical difficulties to a minimum through the exercise of a few simple principles.

PRINCIPLES OF TOUCH

"The position and condition of the hand varies according to the character of the music, and the tone you wish to produce. If you give out a melody, you want a full, luscious tone, the weight of arm on the key, everything relaxed, and a clinging, caressing pressure of finger. Here then, you have the 'Melody Hand,' with outstretched, flat fingers. If, on the contrary, you want rapid passage work, with clear, bright, articulate touch, the hand must stand up in well-arched, normal playing position, with fingers well rounded and good finger action. Here you have the 'Technical' or 'Coloratura Hand.'

MELODY HAND

"The Melody Hand is weighty and 'dead,' so to speak. The touch is made with flat fingers; the ball of the finger comes in contact with the key, the whole arm, hand and fingers are relaxed--as loose as possible. You caress the keys as though you loved them, as though they were a very part of you; you cling to them as to something soft, velvety or downy--with pressure, pressure, pressure, always."

(This illustration recalled to the listener's mind one of Kitty Cheatham's stories, the one about the little girl caressing a pet kitten. She was asked which she loved best--her mother or the kitten. "Of course I love her best," was the rather hesitating answer; "but I love kitty too--and she has _fur_!")

"To acquire the melody touch, I teach it with the simplest exercises, sometimes with only single tones. When the idea is apprehended, the pupil works it out in some lyric piece, like a _Song without Words_, by Mendelssohn.

"There are three touches for melody playing: First, the _down touch_, made by descending arm and hand; second, the _up touch_, made by elevating the wrist, while the finger lies upon the key; third, the _wiping-off touch_, which draws the finger off the key, with an arm and hand movement.

THE TECHNICAL HAND

"The technical hand employs finger touch and finger action; the hand is held up, in military position, so to speak; the finger movements are quick, alert and exact; the hand is _alive_, not dead and heavy, as is the melody hand. The two ways of playing are quite opposite in their fundamental character, but they can be modified and blended in endless ways.

"For the technical or coloratura touch, the hand is in arched position, the five fingers are well rounded and curved, their tips are on the keys, everything is rounded. When a finger is lifted, it naturally assumes a more rounded position until it descends to the same spot on the key from which it was lifted, as though there were five little imaginary black spots on the keys, showing exactly where the finger-tips should rest. The fingers are lifted cleanly and evenly and _fall_ on the keys--no hitting nor striking. I make a great distinction between the coloratura touch and the melody touch. The first is for rapid, brilliant passage work, sparkling, glittering, iridescent--what you will--but cold. It is made, as I said, with arched hand and raised finger action. Melody touch expresses warmth and feeling; is from the heart. Then there are the down and up arm movements, for chords, and, of course, scale and arpeggio work, with coloratura touch. I generally expect pupils who come to me to go through a short course of preparatory study with my assistant, Miss Madeleine Prosser, who has been with me for years, and does most thorough work in this line.

ASSIMILATION OF PRINCIPLES

"Many pupils come to me with no very definite ideas as to touch and what they may express through it. They think if they _feel_ a passage sufficiently, they will be able to use the right touch for it. Sometimes they may be able to hit upon the effect they want, but they don't know quite how they got it, nor can they repeat it another time at will. I believe the principles governing certain touches can be so thoroughly learned and assimilated that _when the player sees a certain passage, he knows at once what touch is required to express it._ A great actor illustrates what I mean--he knows how to employ his features and body to express the thought of his lines. When you go to the Theatre Francais in Paris, you know every member of the company is thoroughly trained in every phase of his art. You are aware that each actor has studied expression to such an extent that the features naturally fall into the required lines and curves whenever a certain emotion comes up for expression. So with the pianist--he should have the various touches at his finger-tips. The step beyond is to express himself, which he will do easily and naturally, when his has such a preparation as I have referred to.

MEMORIZING

"I am often questioned on the subject of memorizing. Some pupils think if they play the piece a sufficient number of times they will know it; then are troubled because they cannot at all times remember the notes. Such players must know every note of the piece away from the piano, and be able to recite them. I have students who are able to learn their music away from the instrument, and can play it to me without having tried it on the piano. I require the piece so thoroughly memorized that if I correct a measure or phrase, the pupil can go right on from that point, without being obliged to start farther back, or at the beginning. In some cases, however, if the pupil has her own method of committing to memory, and it is successful, I have no desire to change it.

OCTAVE STUDIES

"For octave study, form the hand with the 'octave grimace,'--that is with arched hand, the unemployed fingers slightly curved. In staccato touch of course use light wrist. Begin with one beat in sixteenths and finish with the 'wiping off' touch. Build up more and more beats in notes of the same value, always ending the passage with the same touch, as above mentioned. This exercise can be played the full length of the keyboard, in all keys, and also chromatically. It can be played in the same fashion, using four-voiced chords instead of octaves. When such an exercise can be prolonged for twenty minutes at a time, octave passages in pieces have no terrors for the pianist. For the octaves in Chopin's Polonaise Op. 53, he would merely have to learn the notes, which can be done away from the piano; there is no need for exhaustive practise of the passage.

KEEPING UP REPERTOIRE

"In order to keep repertoire in repair, one should have it arranged so that old pieces are gone over once a week. Group your repertoire into sections and programs. It might be well to begin the week with Chopin, playing through the whole list; after which pick out the weak places, and practise those. Tuesday, take Schumann, and treat him in the same way. Then comes Liszt, Russian music, modern composers, concertos, and chamber music. In this systematic way the whole repertoire is kept up.

DETAILS OF PRACTISE

"My mornings are given up to practise, my afternoons to teaching. Of these practise hours, at least one hour is given to technic, scales, arpeggios, octaves, chords--and Bach! I believe in taking one selection of Bach, say a Two-voiced Invention, and perfecting it, playing it in various ways--transposing it into all keys and polishing it to the highest degree possible. The B flat Invention is a useful one for this treatment. So with etudes; instead of playing _at_ so many, is it not better to perfect a few and bring them up to the highest degree of completeness?

"I am very susceptible to color, anywhere, in anything--especially in pictures. Music should express color. Certain compositions seem to embody certain colors. As you suggest, red is certainly the motif of Chopin's great Polonaise, Op. 53."

* * * * *

Mr. Burnham should certainly look forward to success in his visit to his native land. His fine touch and tone, sincere and musicianly style, and buoyant, genial personality will make friends for his art and himself everywhere.

XVI

EDWIN HUGHES

SOME ESSENTIALS OF PIANO PLAYING

When one has read with pleasure and profit the published ideas of a musical worker and thinker, it is always an interesting experience to meet such an one personally, and have the opportunity to discuss points of special import, particularly when the meeting can take place in some ideal spot in the old world. Such was my thought in visiting Mr. Edwin Hughes, an American who has made a name and place for himself among the pianists and teachers of Europe. After years of study in Vienna with Leschetizky, where he also acted as one of the _Vorbereiters_, he has established himself in Munich, where he feels he has found a true home of music and art. Here, amid beautiful and artistic surroundings, he lives and works, dividing his time between teaching and concert playing. As a pianist Mr. Hughes has met with gratifying success in the most important cities of Germany, while as a teacher he has been sought by students from almost every State in America, from Maine to Texas, and also from Canada. What has given him special satisfaction is that during the past year a number of pupils have come to him from the Conservatory here in Munich. They have been greatly pleased with their progress, only regretting they had not come to him before.

As to whether he uses the Leschetizky method in its entirety, Mr. Hughes testified in the affirmative.

"If you were to ask Leschetizky about the 'Leschetizky Method,' he would probably laugh and tell you he has no method, or he would tell you his 'method' consists of only two things--firm fingers and pliable wrist.

"These are the principles upon which I base the technical training of my pupils. I first establish an arched hand position, and then test the firmness of the fingers and knuckle joints by tapping them. At first the joints, particularly the nail joints, are very apt to sink in when tapped by a lead pencil; but by having the pupil continue the tapping process at home, it is not long before he acquires the feeling of conscious firmness in his fingers.

"Along with this exercise it is most important to begin at once with wrist exercises, as otherwise, from the effort to acquire firmness of finger, the wrist may become stiff and unwieldy. The wrist exercises consist in raising and lowering this joint, with the hand and arm supported first on each finger separately, then on two, three, four and five fingers. The wrist should not be so limp as to be incapable of resistance; but rather it should be like a fine steel spring--a 'spring-wrist,' I call it--capable of every degree of resistance or non-resistance the quality of tone demands.

"High finger action is not so necessary for beginners as most piano teachers imagine. It is much easier to teach pupils to raise their fingers high, than it is to teach them the acquisition of the _legato_ touch at the piano, which is only to be attained by playing close to the keys, without raising the fingers. It is difficult to get pupils to play a perfect _legato_ who have had years of training with high finger action, something which should be taken up for _non-legato_ and _staccato_ finger work _after_ the more difficult _legato_ touch has been mastered.

TONE PRODUCTION

"The subject of tone production is one which is much neglected by piano teachers. Viewed from this standpoint the piano is an instrument apart from every other, except in some respects the organ. A young violinist, 'cellist or flutist has to study for some time before he can produce a tone of good musical quality on his instrument. Think what the beginner on the violin has to go through before he can make a respectable middle C; but anybody, even a totally unmusical person, can play middle C on the piano without the least trouble. It is just this ease in tone production at the piano which leads to carelessness as to the _kind_ of tone produced; and so piano teachers, above all others, complain they cannot get their pupils to listen to what they are playing. Pupils should be made to listen, by means of a special course in tone production, which should go hand in hand with the technical exercises used at the very beginning. Otherwise they imagine they are making music when they place the printed page on the rack, and set the correct keys in motion.

"There is no other instrument with which it is so easy to 'bluff' a large part of the audience; for the character of the piano is such that the general public often think it fine music if the player makes a big noise. Pianists of considerable reputation often take advantage of this lack of discrimination on the part of piano-recital audiences, which, above all the other audiences, seem peculiarly incapable of judging correctly the musical value of a performance.

"Of the hundreds of piano recitals which take place yearly in the musical centers of Europe, only a comparatively small number are of real musical interest. In many cases it seems as though the players were merely repeating something learned by rote, in an unknown language; just as though I should repeat a poem in Italian. The words I might pronounce after a fashion, but the meaning of most of them would be a blank to me--so how could I make others understand them.

RHYTHM IN PIANO PLAYING

"The subject of rhythm is an important one, and more attention should be given it. Leschetizky once said that tones and rhythm are the only things which can keep the piano alive as a solo instrument. I find in pupils who come to me so much deficiency in these two subjects, that I have organized classes in ear-training and rhythm.

"If pupils have naturally a poor sense of rhythm, there is no remedy equal to practising with a metronome, using this instrument of torture daily until results are evident, when, of course, there must be a judicious slowing down in its use. The mechanical sense of rhythm, the ability to count three or four to a measure, and to group the notes of a piece correctly, can be taught to any person, if one has the patience; but for those delicate rhythmic _nuances_ required by a Chopin mazurka or a Viennese waltz, a specific rhythmic gift must be possessed by the pupil.

"Leschetizky says little to his pupils on the subject of technic; I cannot remember his having spoken a dozen words to me on the subject, during all the time I have known him. His interest, of course, lies wholly in the matter of interpretation, and technic comes into consideration only as a means and never as an end.

"Leschetizky likes to have the player talk to him, ask questions, do anything but sit still and not speak. 'How do I know you comprehend my meaning,' he asks, 'that you understand what I am talking about, if you say nothing?' At first a student may be silent from nervousness, but if he is bright he will soon 'catch on,' and see what is expected of him. Leschetizky says sometimes: 'When the Lord made the ten commandments He omitted the eleventh, "Thou shalt not be stupid."' If one is not very quick, one may have a hard time with this master.

"As a high school in technic I use Joseffy's _School of Advanced Piano Playing_ with my pupils. This work leads to the highest possible technical development at the keyboard, and I consider it the last word in piano technic. The hundreds of exercises have been devised with most wonderful ingenuity, and the musicianship of the author stands out on every page. The book is not a dry series of technics but has vital connection with all the big technical problems found in the literature of the piano.

"In teaching, I consider a second piano an absolute necessity. There are so many things in piano playing which cannot be put into words, and the teacher must constantly illustrate. How can one teach the interpretation of a Chopin nocturne, for instance, by merely talking about it. I can say, 'play loud here--soft there'; but how far do such directions go toward an artistic conception of the piece? One cannot indicate the swell of a melody, the tonal and rhythmic _nuance_ of a _groupetto_--and a thousand other things in any other way than by the living example. Through imitation one learns rapidly and surely, until one reaches the point where the wings of one's own individuality begin to sprout.

ABOUT MEMORIZING

"On the subject of memorizing who can lay down rules for this inexplicable mental process, which will hold good for every one? For myself, I hear the notes mentally, and know their position on the keyboard. In actual performance much must be left to finger memory, but one must actually have the notes in his mind as well as in his fingers. Before a concert I go over all my program mentally, and find this an excellent method of practise when traveling from one city to another. To those who study with me I say, you must try various methods of memorizing; there is no universal way; each must find out by experiment which is most suited to his individual case.

"With some pianists visual memory of the printed page plays the principal role in memorizing; with others visual memory of the notes on the keyboard; with still others ear-memory, or memory of the harmonic progressions. I believe in making the pupil familiar with all these different ways, so that he may find out which one is most helpful to him.

"For pupils with weak hands and arms I recommend simple gymnastic exercises to be done morning and evening. Physical strength is a very necessary essential for a brilliant technic; the student who would accomplish big things must possess it in order to succeed.

KEEPING TECHNIC IN REPAIR

"The only way to keep one's technic in repair is to be constantly working at it. Technic is the mechanical part of music-making; to keep it in good working order one must be constantly tinkering with it, just as the engine driver tinkers with his locomotive or the chauffeur with his automobile. In the course of his technical study every intelligent pupil will recognize certain exercises which are particularly important for the mechanical well-being of his playing; from these exercises he will plan his daily schedule of technical practise.

"In order to keep a large repertoire going at the same time, one must have a weekly practise plan, which will allow for a frequent repetition of the pieces. Those pieces which have been recently added to one's list will require more frequent repetition, while those which have been played for a longer period may be left for an occasional brushing up. Frequent playing before others, either publicly or privately, is above everything else to be recommended to the pianist, as the greatest incentive to keeping up his repertoire and toward growing in his art.

AMERICAN VERSUS EUROPEAN CONDITIONS