ome to be imagined that I have
studied with Leschetizky; this is entirely refuted when I say I have
never been in Vienna. It seems we are getting away from the idea of
helping ourselves out with the name of some great teacher. The question
should be: What has the player in himself, what can he accomplish? not,
Whose pupil is he? We know of some of Leschetizky's famous pupils, but
we never hear of the thousands he must have had, who have come to
nothing. A teacher can only do a certain amount for you; he can give you
new ideas, which each pupil works out for himself in his own way. The
piano student learns from so many different sources. He attends a piano
recital and acquires many ideas of touch, tone, phrasing and
interpretation; he hears a great singer or violinist and absorbs a
wholly new set of thoughts, or he listens to a grand orchestra, and
gains more than from all the others. Then there is life to study from:
experience--living--loving: all go into the work of the musician. A
musical career is indeed the most exacting one that can be chosen.

"I have been asked whether I prefer to play for an audience of
'music-lovers' or one of 'music knowers.' Perhaps an equal mixture is
the happy medium. Of the two sorts it seems to me the music-knowers are
preferable, for even if they are very critical, they also recognize the
various points you make; they see and appreciate what you are striving
for. They are not inclined to say, 'I don't like such or such a player';
for the music-knower understands the vast amount of time and energy,
labor and talent that go to make a pianist. He rather says, 'I prefer
the playing of such or such an artist.' The word 'like' in connection
with a great artist seems almost an affront. What does it matter if his
work is not 'liked' by some? He knows it can stand for what it is--the
utmost perfection of his powers--of himself. And after all the audience
is the greatest teacher an artist can have; I have learned more from
this teacher than from any other. In this school I learn what moves and
touches an audience; how to improve this or that passage; how to make a
greater climax here, or more sympathetic coloring there. For in
conceiving how a work should sound, I get--in my study of it--a general
idea of the whole, and make it as nearly perfect as I am able. But it
has to be tested and tried--an audience must pass its opinion--must set
the seal of approval upon it. When the work has been polished