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III
HIS DEBUT IN LONDON

The statement that the London critics did not recognise Paderewski's greatness is often made to their discredit, but a close examination of all that was written at the time does not bear out the accusation. It was rather that the criticism was a trifle too guarded, and that to some extent the journalists were prejudiced against the pianist through no fault of his own but because he had been described as "The Lion of the Paris Season." Also, although this may seem a trivial reason, the recital took place on one of those pleasant days of our May when rain and wind make conditions in London anything but merry. At any rate all who were present at that first recital agree that the audience was coldly critical. We do not accept the verdict of Paris on musical matters, and the average Englishman is apt to suspect charlatanism in a musician whose "wonderful aureole of golden hair" had been so sedulously advertised. There is no doubt the sensitive pianist felt this atmosphere keenly. He is always nervous when he begins his recital even to this day. "The mere fact of knowing a great audience waits on your labours," he once remarked to an interviewer, "is enough to shake all your nerves to pieces." There is no question that at the first recital he was not at his best, and that there was good ground for the accusation of "sensationalism" which was brought against him by several critics. But, at the same time, his other merits were amply recognised. To prove this I give some selections from the criticisms of the first recital. They should be documents of some interest to the historian of the future.

"The player's loudest tones," said the Times, "are by no means always beautiful, but the amount of fire and passion he gave to three of Chopin's most difficult studies and to certain passages in Schumann's Fantasia in C major produced a profound effect… It is in Chopin … M. Paderewski is at his best, and here not so much in the sentimental side of the master's work as in his passionate and fiery moods." On the whole the "notice" had much of praise for the new pianist. The Morning Post contented itself with the expression of opinion that the pianist's reading of compositions by Mendelssohn, Handel, Schumann, Chopin, Rubinstein, Liszt and Paderewski was "by no means conventional, nor was it always entirely artistic."

The Daily Telegraph contained the most important criticism of the new pianist. "Mr. Paderewski astonishes, and the good English public will run after him, no matter what the character of the astonishment may be… Mr. Paderewski is a monstrously powerful pianist, and herein lies his quality for the lover of marvels. The lover of music will sit at his feet on other grounds; but the main point is that the Polish artist appeals to both classes, and they comprise everybody… We do not pretend to much admiration for the Mr. Paderewski who astonishes. It was impossible to find any even for Rubinstein, when he appeared as a Cyclops wielding his hammers with superhuman energy, making the pianoforte shake to its centre, and not always hitting true and straight. That which was refused to the Moldavian Colossus is not likely to be secured by Mr. Paderewski, the less because he transcends his exemplar in fury and force of blow. It may safely be declared that no one present at St. James's Hall on Friday afternoon had ever before heard Mendelssohn's Prelude and Fugue in E minor so played – with clang and jangle of metal, and with such confusion of sound that trying to follow the working of the parts, resembled looking at moving machinery through a fog. It was the march of an abnormally active mammoth about the keyboard, while the wondering observer expected the pianoforte to break down at any moment." The critic (Mr. Joseph Bennett from internal evidence) had the same complaint to make of the performance of Handel's "Harmonious Blacksmith." "Plainly," the critic adds, "we do not like Mr. Paderewski as an exponent of physical force. The result of his labours may be marvellous but it is not music." After this castigation came praise. "There is another Mr. Paderewski whom we can well abide. He is gentle and pleasant, refined and poetic to a degree which makes him altogether charming. This, we suspect, must be the true Paderewski, the other being, in the old demoniacal sense, 'possessed.' If so, is there no power to cast out the evil spirit?" As examples of the "true Paderewski" the critic praised the playing of some Chopin compositions and two of the pianist's own pieces.

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.