The French he compares to birds of passage, flying lightly up in the clouds, unconscious of what lies below. They are dainty, crisp, clear-cut in their playing, and they phrase well.
The Germans he respects for their earnestness, their patient devotion to detail, their orderliness, and intense and humble love of their art. But their outlook is a little grey.
The gentle Swedes, in whom he finds much talent, are more sympathetic to him; and the Italian he loves, because he is Italian—though he cannot, as a rule, play the piano in the very least.
"Ah! what a marvel I could make, could I mix you all up!" he says; "what a marvel I could make!" So many of his pupils have become famous that it is not possible to speak of more than a few. The few shall be those already known to England.
Paderewski, Slivinski, Friedmann represent Poland. Mark Hambourg—whom Rubinstein pointed out as his successor—Gabrilowitch, Mme. Essipoff, and Mme. Stepanoff are from Russia. Fanny Bloomfield—"my electric wonder"—Otto Voss, Ethel Newcomb, from America. Helen Hopekirk—"the finest woman musician I have ever known"—is from Scotland. Paula Sjalit, and Schütt—best known as a composer—are Austrians; Schwabel and Richard Buhlig are Germans; Franchetti is an Italian. Katherine Goodson—one of the best pupils Leschetizky has ever had—Evelyn Suart, Marie St. Angelo, Douglas Boxall, Ada Thomas, Frank Merrick, and Ethel Liggins are all English.
CHAPTER VII
THE CENTRE OF THE CIRCLE
Of Leschetizky's interests apart from his career there is little to be said. They are but the accompaniment to the song. His pupils are the axle on which his thoughts turn, the rule by which his day is measured. About twelve o'clock he comes down to his work, devoting the early hour to the less gifted, or to the beginners, in order to give them the benefit of his most tranquil frame of mind. The lessons last an hour or more, according to the virtue of the pupil and the Professor's own mood. Very often, having forgotten all about time, he goes on till some one comes in with a gentle reminder that another patient on the verge of nervous prostration is waiting for him in the study. Nominally he takes three pupils in the day, but sometimes after dinner a spare hour or two is filled up by some one who studies with him unofficially. Knowing how difficult it is for some of the poorer pupils to find money to pay their expenses, if it comes to his knowledge that any of them are in need of funds, he is sure to find some tactful and charming way of playing Santa Claus. For one whom he loved, a little bank was piled up week by week, the Professor putting aside the fees as he received them throughout the whole period of study. When the time was over and the boy, packed and ready to start on his journey, went to say good-bye, out came the treasure—"just a souvenir"—to speed him on his way.