In 1862, when the St. Petersburg Conservatoire was opened with Anton Rubinstein as director, Leschetizky transferred his class there. Though among the pioneers who actively interested themselves in its development as a means of popularising the study of music, Leschetizky was more taken up with pupils in particular than pupils in general. He sympathised to a certain extent with Rubinstein's plans for the improvement of the musical condition of the country; at the same time his nature, more individualist and less philanthropic than his friend's, preferred to work in a smaller field. He could devote himself heart and soul to watching and tending the unfolding of any young talent, but not to the education of the masses; and it is well that it was so, for otherwise a specialist would have been lost to the world. His chief care was that each pupil entrusted to him should develop to the best of his ability; if pianism in general incidentally benefited by the system of study he had built up, so much the better.
CHAPTER II
1862-1905
During these years Leschetizky played a great deal in public. He was famous all over Russia, Austria, and Germany, both as pianist and teacher, and pupils collected to join his class from every part of Europe.
LESCHETIZKY'S HOUSE IN VIENNA
In his capacity as Capellmeister he had also to fill the part of conductor. In speaking of this part of his career he says: "Conducting is not difficult. It is harder to play six bars well on the piano than to conduct the whole of the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven." In illustration of this view he relates how, when he was once conducting the Schumann Concerto, Rubinstein, who was taking the solo, suddenly forgot the music so completely that Leschetizky was obliged to stop the orchestra. On rushed Rubinstein, playing anything that came into his head, till he found himself in the Cadenza, when Leschetizky at once passed the word round the orchestra to be ready to come in with the theme, if Rubinstein ever got there. Rubinstein did get there. Leschetizky brought down the stick, and all went merrily to the end. On another occasion he had to conduct an overture that he had never seen; but he ran it over in his mind before the concert began, and it went without a hitch. He thinks far too much is said about a conductor's difficulties. He protests also against "virtuoso-conducting." "Why should the orchestra rise? Why should so much be said about the way in which things are done? It is the composer who should have the applause, not the conductor." When a concert is over, he would have all the lights put out, the portrait of the composer thrown by a lantern on a screen, and make the audience applaud that. Leschetizky's own career as a conductor ended when Rubinstein came back to take up his position as "Janitor of Music" at the Court. Since then he has not sought the opportunity of carrying these ideas into practice.
In 1864 he visited England for the first time, making his début at one of Ella's Musical Union Concerts, where he played the Schumann Quintet and some of his own compositions. Mr. Kuhe happened to be in the artists' room at the time, and says that at rehearsal there arose a considerable discussion as to the tempo at which the Quintet should be taken. Leschetizky, it seems, was accustomed to play it much more brilliantly and at a greater speed than Joachim—the first violin on this occasion—and nothing would induce him to play it in any other way. "I play it so, or not at all." "Very well," replied Joachim, "but mind the responsibility rests with you." They played it according to Leschetizky's rendering, and so great was its success that the new tempo became universally popular.
Whatever Leschetizky made up his mind to do he carried through in spite of all obstacles. Once, on arriving at a town where he was to play in the evening, he found the impresario anxious to give up the concert, because that very day another pianist had already played the Concerto chosen by Leschetizky. "No matter," said Leschetizky quite calmly, "I will play it all the same. The audience will come to hear how I do it after the other man." And they did. In England it was still the fashion to give extremely long concerts—although not quite as long as in the Mendelssohn era, when it is recorded that Benedict arranged a concert of thirty-eight numbers. Mr. Kuhe was one of the most generous of impresarios in this respect, and Leschetizky never lost an opportunity of rallying him on the subject.