For a moment he was too stunned to say anything at all.
The hall was indeed sold out and the box-office “take” was at least five times greater than the poor pianist had expected. Modjeska’s name on the program was the greatest endorsement he could have had in Cracow. People flocked to hear her recite from the beloved Polish poets. They stayed to hear the unknown pianist play his persuasive brand of Chopin. In one evening he had earned enough to live in Vienna for at least three months. The “right person at the right moment” pattern was once more in evidence.
In 1886 Vienna was the heart of the musical world. The great composer, Johannes Brahms, lived and worked there. The Vienna Philharmonic was the oldest and finest symphony orchestra in the world. The Vienna State Opera was producing its almost flawless productions under some of the world’s finest conductors. Johann Strauss was writing operettas such as Die Fledermaus and “The Gypsy Baron,” while the whole country waltzed to the “Beautiful Blue Danube” and “Tales From the Vienna Woods.” To the hopeful young Polish pianist, however, the center of Vienna’s musical life was the studio of Theodore Leschetizky.
From the phenomenally early age of fifteen, Leschetizky had been recognized as a remarkable teacher, and while he himself played publicly until he was past fifty, his greatest gift was the ability to make superb pianists out of the advanced students who came to him from all over the world.
“Play something for me.”
When Paderewski called on Leschetizky, the great man received him cordially. “Of course! You are the young man whose music my wife so admires! Many young composers are kind enough to bring me their new compositions. You have some pieces to play for me?”
Paderewski gulped. Now that he had to put it into words, his mission suddenly looked a bit ridiculous. As clearly as he could, he explained to Leschetizky that he had not come to him as a composer but as a piano student, since he wanted to have a career as a concert pianist.
The older man’s bushy eyebrows flew up. “Are you serious? But—how old are you, young man?”
“Twenty-four.”