"I feel that the ignorance of this music among piano teachers and students is a crying shame. What modern piano sonata have we to-day, to compare with his? I know of none. And the songs—are they not wonderful! I love the man and his music so much that I am doing what lies in my power to make these compositions better known. There is need of pioneer work in this matter, and I am glad to do some of it."
II.
ERNEST SCHELLING
THE HAND OF A PIANIST
As I sat in the luxurious salon of the apartments near the Park, where Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Schelling were spending the winter, sounds of vigorous piano practise floated out to me from a distant chamber. It was unusual music, and seemed to harmonize with the somewhat Oriental atmosphere and coloring of the music-room, with its heavily beamed ceiling of old silver, its paintings and tapestries.
The playing ceased and soon the artist appeared, greeting the visitor with genial friendliness of manner. He was accompanied by the "lord of the manor," a beautiful white bull terrier, with coat as white as snow. This important personage at once curled himself up in the most comfortable arm-chair, a quiet, profound observer of all that passed. In the midst of some preliminary chat, the charming hostess entered and poured tea for us.
The talk soon turned upon the subject in which I was deeply interested—the technical training of a pianist.
"Technic is such an individual matter," began Mr. Schelling; "for it depends on so many personal things: the physique, the mentality, the amount of nervous energy one has, the hand and wrist. Perhaps the poorest kind of hand for the piano is the long narrow one, with long fingers. Far better to have a short, broad one with short fingers. Josef Hofmann has a wonderful hand for the piano; rather small, yes, but so thick and muscular. The wrist, too, is a most important factor. Some pianists have what I call a 'natural wrist,' that is they have a natural control of it; it is no trouble for them to play octaves, for instance. Mme. Carreño has that kind of wrist; she never had difficulty with octaves, they are perfect, Hofmann also has a marvelous wrist. I am sorry to say I have not that kind of wrist, and therefore have been much handicapped on that account. For I have had to work tremendously to develop not only the wrist but the whole technic. You see I was a wonder child, and played a great deal as a small boy. Then from fifteen to twenty I did not practise anything like what I ought to have done. That is the period when the bones grow, muscles develop—everything grows. Another thing against me is the length of my fingers. When the fingers are longer than the width of the hand across the knuckle joint, it is not an advantage but a detriment. The extra length of finger is only so much dead weight that the hand has to lift. This is another disadvantage I have had to work against. Yes, as you say, it is a rather remarkable hand in regard to size and suppleness. But I hardly agree that it is like Liszt's; more like Chopin's, judging from the casts I have seen of his hand.