Part 2

The critic of the _Standard_ was quite as severe on the "sensational" aspects of Paderewski's playing. "It was quickly manifest," he wrote, "that the performer was more anxious to astonish than to charm. His rendering of a Prelude and Fugue in E minor of Mendelssohn was utterly at variance with the traditional methods of interpreting the music of this composer, and in Schumann's Fantasia in C, op. 17, we were constantly met by surprises. The playing was marked by violent contrasts, the pace and tone being sometimes reduced far more than the directions given by Schumann seem to warrant, while at others the physical powers of the executant were exercised in a manner that resulted in much noise, but little music. The same exaggerations of style were perceptible in Chopin's Etudes in C minor and F, op. 10, and G sharp minor, op. 25. It must be said in M. Paderewski's favour that he plays fewer wrong notes than most pianists of his school, and, further, that his tone in _pianissimo_ passages is bell-like and delicate. He is, in brief, a _virtuoso_ of no common order, but that he is entitled to the higher rank of an artist is more than can be said, judging from yesterday's performance." In a criticism of the third recital the critic still complained of Paderewski's occasional exaggeration, but on the whole the notice was a shade more appreciative, although London was still left in doubt as to whether the pianist was "entitled to the higher rank of artist."

The _Daily News_ thought that the leonine attributes with which Paderewski was accredited in "his own advertisements" were "fully exemplified in the Prelude and Fugue of Mendelssohn which opened the programme. Mendelssohn of all composers can least bear heroic treatment from the ultra vigorous among modern pianists, and the Fugue especially suffered." The critic admired the pianist's Chopin playing, but added that "he was most in his element in his own music." The pianist's talent was thus summed up: "In short, of M. Paderewski's ability there can be no question; and while audiences will probably prefer the exquisite delicacy and poetical feeling which he displays in his calmer moments to the extravagance in which he indulges when in the Ercles vein, it is obvious that his talent lies chiefly in his interpretation of the music of the modern and romantic schools, in which during the current London season he bids fair to create some sensation." The critic thought that Paderewski somewhat modified his super-abundant energy at the second recital, which seems to have been the general opinion, and naturally was not shared by Mr. G. Bernard Shaw, who had just begun to write musical criticism for the _World_. "There is Paderewski, a man of various moods, who was alert, humorous, delightful at his first recital; sensational, empty, vulgar and violent at his second; and dignified, intelligent, almost sympathetic at his third. He is always sure of his notes; but the licence of his tempo rubato goes beyond all reasonable limits." The "almost sympathetic" is distinctly good. With the exception of the _World_ the weekly papers were not at that time remarkable for their musical criticism, but it may be mentioned that the _Saturday Review_ ventured to state that no one who had heard Paderewski at the second recital would deny that "he is one of the most remarkable artists who has been heard of late years."

The most frankly enthusiastic of all the criticisms appeared in the _Globe_. The writer was "inclined to think" that Paderewski surpassed all the pianists who had recently visited London (Sofie Menter, Sapellnikoff, Schönberger and Stavenhagen) and was, indeed second only to Rubinstein among living pianists. "His mastery of the keyboard is complete, his touch is so exquisite, both in _fortissimo_ and _pianissimo_ passages, and in the three intermediate gradations of tone, that every shade of expression is at his command, and in the art of singing on the pianoforte he can only be compared with Thalberg. There is no kind of _charlatanerie_ in his playing; wrapt up completely in the works he performs he devotes himself to their exposition, and while thus engaged appears to ignore the presence of an audience." The critic's ear was not hurt by the loudness with which the pianist played Mendelssohn's Prelude and Fugue and Handel's "Harmonious Blacksmith" and it was predicted that the remaining recitals would be crowded by music-lovers, who would recognise in Mr. Paderewski one of the greatest, if not absolutely the greatest, of living pianists. And this prediction was realised to the full. It is very easy for those who may accept ready-made the world's opinion of a famous artist to fall foul of the want of enthusiasm with which he was at first received by the professional critics. Their experience tells them that no instrumentalist or singer can be adequately judged by one recital and there is no doubt Paderewski showed the more violent and _bizarre_ side of his temperament when making his début here, perhaps from nervousness or perhaps from a natural desire to astonish, for musical artists, however great, are but human after all. At any rate as one recital followed another the tone of London criticism became warmer, and by the time the series had come to an end Paderewski had established his fame in London on a sound basis. It may be said, without indiscretion, that although the recitals were an artistic success they only produced just under £280 gross.

IV

IN AMERICA

On November 17, 1891, eighteen months after his London début, Paderewski made his first appearance in New York. The success he had made in London naturally excited the curiosity of New York amateurs and critics and the pianist's first American recital attracted a brilliant audience. That does not mean that the special public was ready to fall on its knees and worship Paderewski. On the contrary, it seems as if the critics and amateurs of New York take a special pleasure in upsetting the verdict of London if they can, and Paderewski had to face an audience eager to compare its impressions with what had been written in London about this new star in the musical firmament. According to all accounts the same thing happened in New York as had already happened in London. The public immediately recognised the uncommon qualities of the new artist, and not having any hard-and-fast critical standards to employ as a test of his playing, and being impressed by the romantic simplicity of his bearing, hailed him as a great artist _sans phrase_. On the whole, the critics were not wildly enthusiastic. They recognised the talent of the new pianist, but they did not immediately label him as "great." The usual comparisons were made, not always to Paderewski's advantage. But while the critics were making up their minds the public decided for themselves. Two concerts with orchestra were given, and when Paderewski began a series of recitals, it was found that the Madison Square Garden Hall was too small to hold all his admirers, and the Carnegie Hall which has seating accommodation for 2700 persons and standing-room for nearly another 1000, had to be re-engaged. New York was even quicker to discover the greatness of the pianist than London. During his six months stay in America, Paderewski gave no less than 117 recitals. It was only to be expected that he would be engaged for a second tour in the following season. This visit, beginning in the autumn of 1892, was even more successful than the first. In New York he gave two orchestral concerts and nine recitals in the large Carnegie Hall, and from New York he began his triumphant progress through the States. No pianist had excited such a furore of interest. A paragraph in a newspaper of the West gives some idea of this. "Paderewski played on Monday evening in Cleveland, and the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railroad Company ran special trains, one from Sandusky and the other from Norwalk, for the benefit of the residents of those two cities who wished to hear him. The receipts equalled the enthusiasm. Practically Paderewski could rely on filling the largest concert-hall in America. The Chicago Auditorium realised £1400 for one concert. Sixty-seven recitals, given in twenty-six cities, brought in £36,000, the largest sum hitherto earned in America by any instrumentalist. Rubinstein had not touched the record made by Paderewski, although the Russian pianist, late in life, was offered £500 an evening for a tour in America." It is possible, however, that the £1000 paid by Mr. Robert Newman for an orchestral concert at the Queen's Hall was the largest fee ever received by Paderewski. These figures may seem a prosaic proof of the popularity of the pianist in America, but they certainly prove that the public genuinely admired the artist.

At the end of this second tour there was a regrettable incident at the Chicago World's Fair. Paderewski, at great personal inconvenience and considerable financial loss, had promised to take part in the two opening concerts of the series to be given at the exhibition under the conductorship of the late Mr. Theodore Thomas, for whom the pianist had a warm personal admiration. In America Paderewski had played on the Steinway piano, and the famous firm, not approving of the system of awards at the exhibition, were not exhibitors. The Board of Directors informed the artist that he must play on an instrument by an exhibiting firm, but Paderewski naturally declined to change his piano at the last moment. Quite a newspaper war arose, until the directors were made aware that an artist has some rights, and then they gave way. The incident is worth mentioning because it is often stated in private that great pianists are in receipt of salaries from pianoforte manufacturers in exchange for which they are bound to play on their instruments. However this may be with others it is not so with Paderewski. Here in England he invariably plays on an Erard, because the instrument is to his taste and the manufacturers have always done their best to adapt their pianos to Paderewski's requirements. The pianist himself, at the time of the Chicago incident, felt compelled to write a letter to a New York paper which had editorially expressed the opinion that it "was not very generous on Mr. Paderewski's part to sell himself to a piano firm." "I must emphatically deny," he wrote, "that I am bound by contract or agreement, either in writing or verbally, to the use of any particular make of piano. In this respect I am at perfect liberty to follow my convictions and inclinations, and this privilege I must be free to exercise in the prosecution of my artistic career. Throughout the wide world any artist is permitted to use the instrument of his choice, and I do not understand why I should be forced to play an instrument of a manufacturer strange to me and untried by me, which may jeopardise my artistic success." This dignified protest should be sufficient contradiction of the persistent rumours that Paderewski has been bound to play certain pianofortes. Those who understand the light in which an artist views the instrument he plays know full well that the use of a certain piano could not possibly be a mere matter of financial arrangement.

The success of Paderewski in America was indeed phenomenal. It rivalled that of Rubinstein, and was financially more brilliant. It became quite the proper thing, an American biographer has told us, to crowd on to the platform at the end of a concert and induce the pianist to play a few more selections in an informal way. In Texas whole schools marched many miles to hear him, and such was the interest aroused by his personality that crowds frequently waited at railway stations merely to see the train pass, in hopes of catching a glimpse of his remarkable countenance. Sometimes crowds would line the streets from his hotel to the concert hall and make it impossible for him to get past.

The pianist was fortunate in having an agent or manager of energy in Mr. Hugo Görlitz, who directed the first three tours in America. The distances to be traversed make an artistic visit to the States something of an ordeal for a sensitive artist. Rubinstein found it unbearable and not even the offer of a very handsome fee could in the end persuade the great Russian pianist to revisit America. M. Paderewski's manager, however, did his utmost to make the travelling as little arduous as possible. He himself has given an account of the manner in which Paderewski travelled in America. "In travelling in a private car in America," Mr. Görlitzt told an interviewer some years ago, "one is entirely independent of hotels, which in most cases are fine comfortable buildings, but with very bad service and cooking; hence the artist, who lives very irregularly, and when his nerves are highly strung, is not in possession of a good appetite, must have everything to his liking; and the only way to obtain that in America is by engaging one of the private Pullman cars, which contain all modern luxuries and comforts. Before starting on a tour on the car a series of menus is prepared and, in accordance with the same, the car is provided with everything but fish and bread, which can be obtained at the different stations by telegraphing through the commissariat department of the Pullman Company. Then the head waiter takes charge of the stores and prepares the menus in the most tempting fashion. As a rule Paderewski takes his principal meal after his concert, and, as his concert is generally usually over at half-past ten at night, his dinner hour is eleven o'clock. But the main comfort consists in not having to rise early in the morning after a hard day's work, for, without having to notify any one, the car will be hung on to an express train and he wakes up at his next station. Then there is usually a side track, where there is very little noise, for the car to remain during the day. In the observation room of this car we carried an upright piano, so that the master could practise whenever he found it necessary to do so, and as we did not enter a hotel for three weeks during our trip, this was the only way for him to keep in practice.

"With regard to Paderewski's journey, everything is arranged for him weeks before hand, so that it works like a machine. Whenever we arrive in a town, a carriage has to be waiting at a station, and the same in the evening from the hotel to the hall and back again. This, in many instances, is essential as he leaves the concert platform so exhausted that he might easily contract an illness if he were not immediately taken to his hotel without any delay on the way. On one occasion, however, all our arrangements were upset in consequence of a snow-storm, which delayed the train from Toronto, Ontario, to Suspension Bridge. We arrived, instead of twelve o'clock in the day, at seven o'clock in the evening. At eight there was to be a concert at Buffalo, New York: it was impossible to get there in time, so we telegraphed to inform the audience that if they would wait an hour longer the artist would appear and play his programme through. But the only way for him to accomplish this was to dress in the train. When he had decided to do so, it was found that our baggage had been removed into the Custom House, and the Custom House attendants, not knowing of the arrival of this train, had gone home. The only possible way to get at his dress-suit was for me to break open the Custom House window, go in, bring out his dress-suit and lock up the box again. I accomplished this without being detected, and we arrived, finally, at Buffalo in time for the concert."

Mr. Görlitz's account gives the English reader a vivid idea of the arduous work before a celebrated artist. How a pianist can be in a good mood for his art after a few weeks of such high-pressure work is not easy to understand. On the whole M. Paderewski has stood the arduous work of his American recitals extremely well, but in 1896 at the end of a tremendous tour through the United States he was compelled to take a rest, cancelling an engagement to play a new fantasia by Sir Alexander Mackenzie at one of our Philharmonic Concerts, and postponing a recital already arranged for him in London.

V

LATER TOURS

It will not be necessary to describe in detail the triumphant career of the virtuoso in America and Europe. Such a description would become a mere catalogue of towns visited with an enumeration of the fees received, enlivened by a few more or less apocryphal anecdotes. It will be sufficient to say that M. Paderewski's second tour in America included sixty-seven concerts in twenty-six cities and that the receipts amounted to $180,000 (about £36,000), a sum which had never been reached by any instrumentalist. As far as England is concerned the highest fee paid the pianist was that given by Mr. Robert Newman, which I have already mentioned. It must be confessed that the pianist's agent in England, Mr. Daniel Mayer, the well-known concert agent, has managed his affairs with the utmost discretion. We have never had an opportunity of becoming surfeited with M. Paderewski's talent. His visits have been comparatively few and far between and the announcement of a recital to be given by him in London arouses a curious interest. This is the more remarkable when we remember that the pianist has been accepted as the chief virtuoso of his instrument ever since 1891, a season after he made his début here. In July of that year he gave a Chopin recital which drew the largest audience since the last recital of Rubinstein, and also appeared at a Philharmonic and a Richter concert. In fifteen years many new pianists have come forward, and, of recent years, season after season has gone by without Paderewski having given a series of concerts. His last recital was held in November 1902. It might be thought that he would be forgotten in the midst of such fine playing as we hear in London; but the pianist has one of those temperaments which impress themselves on the public, so that even quite young people who cannot have any close acquaintance with his playing know all about Paderewski and are ready to sacrifice time and patience to attend one of his rare recitals. Those who understand the temper of London will agree that many a fine artist's reputation has suffered from his recitals being so frequent that they become almost a drug in the market. We have never had an opportunity of becoming tired of M. Paderewski.[1]

Before leaving the subject of the pianist's active career as virtuoso a few words must be said on his rather tardy conquest of Germany. It is a strange fact that the Berlin public and critics invariably lag behind the rest of the world in accepting a new virtuoso. Signor Busoni, for instance, had to wait some time for the enthusiasm which had greeted his playing in England. He was accused of dealing with the great classical composers in a virtuoso spirit. With regard to Paderewski it is said that there was a good reason for his dislike of Berlin in particular. After playing his own concerto with the orchestra of the Berlin Philharmonic Society on one occasion he was repeatedly recalled and had to play an encore, for which he selected a piece of Chopin's. The late von Bülow, the conductor, is said to have openly shown his resentment of the ovation accorded to the pianist. During his playing of the encore Bülow indulged in an apparently uncontrollable series of sneezes, which it may be imagined, rather upset the pianist. But it can hardly be true that so trivial a reason made Paderewski dislike the idea of Berlin. If so he might put our own Manchester on the black list, for a few years ago he was obliged to stop in the middle of Chopin's Ballade in G minor and leave the platform in consequence of the inconsiderate restlessness of part of the audience who would enter and depart from the hall during the performance.

But if it is with some difficulty that he is persuaded to play in Germany, it cannot be because of a want of enthusiasm on the part of amateurs. In May of 1894, three years after he had finally captured London, he played his Polish Fantasia at the Nether-Rhenish Musical Festival, held at Aix-la-Chapelle. The enthusiasm he aroused was extraordinary. Encouraged by this reception, he gave recitals in Leipzig and Dresden during the following year. "Not since Liszt has a pianist been received as Paderewski was last night," and "Never since the Albert Hall was built has such applause been heard there as last evening," are typical extracts from the Press notices. The _Tageblatt_ critic wrote: "Paderewski has for some years been enjoying the greatest triumphs in Austria, France, England and America, but, for unknown reasons, avoided Germany almost entirely. Concerning his colossal success in our sister city of Dresden our readers have already been informed. Such positively fabulous enthusiasm no other artist has aroused in Leipzig as far back as our memory goes. The public did not applaud; it raved. If Paderewski has hitherto avoided Germany in the belief that he might be coolly received, he must have been radically cured of that idea last evening." At this recital, which was given in aid of the Liszt Memorial, the audience insisted on the pianist playing for more than an hour after the programme had been completed, and would not leave the concert-hall until all the lights were extinguished.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] His recital on June 18 of this year drew an enormous audience to the Queen's Hall.

VI

PERSONAL TRAITS

"Paderewski," said Pachmann in one of those speeches with which he sometimes enlivens his recitals, "Paderewski is the most modest artist that I have ever seen. I myself am the most unmodest artist, except Hans von Bülow. He is more unmodest than I am." It is curious, indeed, how little is known at first hand of Paderewski. Knowledge of him as a man is confined to the friends with whom he is intimate. The outside world knows no more than that he is an accomplished linguist and a man of considerable reading and catholic tastes; that he is the soul of generosity to those with whom he is acquainted; that he is an expert billiard player--a talent he may have learnt from his master Leschetitzky; that he is a brilliant conversationalist; that he smokes a great many cigarettes; and that he is fond of staying up until the early hours of the morning. It is not, perhaps, so generally known that he is an expert swimmer. With regard to the billiard playing, the pianist once explained to an interviewer the place it takes in the economy of his life. The necessity of practising during his tours for a series of recitals has sometimes meant playing nearly seventeen hours a day, counting the time taken by the recitals themselves--a circumstance which has often happened during the pianist's American tours--and M. Paderewski confessed it was playing billiards that had saved his life. "If I walk or ride, or merely rest," he said, "I go on thinking all the time, and my nerves get no real rest. But when I play billiards I can forget everything, and the result is mental rest and physical exercise combined."