Musical Memories | Page 3

had no idea of the science of
harmony. About that time some one had the notion that I should hear an
orchestra. So they took me to a symphony concert and my mother held
me in her arms near the door. Until then I had only heard single violins
and their tone had not pleased me. But the impression of the orchestra
was entirely different and I listened with delight to a passage played by
a quartet, when, suddenly, came a blast from the brass instruments--the
trumpets, trombones and cymbals. I broke into loud cries, "Make them
stop. They prevent my hearing the music." They had to take me out.

When I was seven, I passed out of my great-aunt's hands into Stamaty's.
He was surprised at the way my education in music had been directed
and he expressed this in a small work in which he discussed the
necessity of making a correct start. In my case, he said, there was
nothing to do but to perfect.
Stamaty was Kalkbrenner's best pupil and the propagator of the method
he had invented. This method was based on the guide main, so I was
put to work on it. The preface to Kalkbrenner's method, in which he
relates the beginnings of his invention, is exceedingly interesting. This
invention consisted of a rod placed in front of the keyboard. The
forearm rested on this rod in such a way that all muscular action save
that of the hand was suppressed. This system is excellent for teaching
the young pianist how to play pieces written for the harpsichord or the
first pianofortes where the keys responded to slight pressure; but it is
inadequate for modern works and instruments. It is the way one ought
to begin, for it develops firmness of the fingers and suppleness of the
wrist, and, by easy stages, adds the weight of the forearm and of the
whole arm. But in our day it has become the practice to begin at the end.
We learn the elements of the fugue from Sebastian Bach's
Wohltemperirte Klavier, the piano from the works of Schumann and
Liszt, and harmony and instrumentation from Richard Wagner. All too
often we waste our efforts, just as singers who learn rôles and rush on
the stage before they know how to sing ruin their voices in a short time.
Firmness of the fingers is not the only thing that one learns from
Kalkbrenner's method, for there is also a refinement of the quality of
the sound made by the fingers alone, a valuable resource which is
unusual in our day.
Unfortunately, this school invented as well continuous legato, which is
both false and monotonous; the abuse of nuances, and a mania for
continual expressio used with no discrimination. All this was opposed
to my natural feelings, and I was unable to conform to it. They
reproached me by saying that I would never get a really fine effect--to
which I was entirely indifferent.
When I was ten, my teacher decided that I was sufficiently prepared to

give a concert in the Salle Pleyel, so I played there, accompanied by an
Italian orchestra, with Tilmant as the conductor. I gave Beethoven's
Concerto in C minor and one of Mozart's concertos in B flat. There was
some question of my playing at the Société des Concerts du
Conservatoire, and there was even a rehearsal. But Seghers, who
afterwards founded the Société St. Cécile, was a power in the affairs of
the orchestra. He detested Stamaty and told him that the Société was
not organized to play children's accompaniments. My mother felt hurt
and wanted to hear nothing more of it.
After my first concert, which was a brilliant success, my teacher
wanted me to give others, but my mother did not wish me to have a
career as an infant prodigy. She had higher ambitions and was
unwilling for me to continue in concert work for fear of injuring my
health. The result was that a coolness sprang up between my teacher
and me which ended our relations.
At that time my mother made a remark which was worthy of Cornelia.
One day some one remonstrated with her for letting me play
Beethoven's sonatas. "What music will he play when he is twenty?" she
was asked. "He will play his own," was her reply.
* * * * *
The greatest benefit I got from my experience with Stamaty was my
acquaintance with Maleden, whom he gave me as my teacher in
composition. Maleden was born in Limoges, as his accent always
showed. He was thin and long-haired, a kind and timid soul, but an
incomparable teacher. He had gone to Germany in his youth to study
with a certain Gottfried Weber, the inventor of a system which
Maleden brought