THEODOR LESCHETIZKY BY ANNETTE HULLAH LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MCMVI Printed by Ballantyne & Co. Limited Tavistock Street, London...

Theodor Leschetizky was born in Poland at the Castle of Lancut, near Lemberg, June 22, 1830. His father, a Bohemian by birth, held the position of music-master to the family of Potocka. His mother, Theresa von Ullmann, was a Pole. The Potocki had luxurious tastes. They were cultivated people, who cared for beautiful things, and were rich enough to have them. The Castle itself, a fine old building, stood in the middle of a large park, surrounded by trees and plenty of open land; it contained a pi

During these years Leschetizky played a great deal in public. He was famous all over Russia, Austria, and Germany, both as pianist and teacher, and pupils collected to join his class from every part of Europe. LESCHETIZKY'S HOUSE IN VIENNA In his capacity as Capellmeister he had also to fill the part of conductor. In speaking of this part of his career he says: "Conducting is not difficult. It is harder to play six bars well on the piano than to conduct the whole of the Ninth Symphony of Beethov

Over a hundred and fifty years ago, in the year 1747, John Sebastian Bach went to Potsdam to visit Frederick the Great, and while there he was asked to try over some of the new fortepianos that had recently been made for the King by Silbermann. He did so, and disliked the noise extremely. His ears, too long accustomed to the gentle tinkle of his beloved clavichord, could not accept this harsh, modern instrument, and he returned home thankful that Providence had not brought him up on such an abom

"The Leschetizky Method" conveys to most people the idea of a technical system by which pianists can be taught to play the piano well. Probably this is so because technical perfection is one of the most obvious characteristics of his school, and a quality immediately comprehensible to the average audience. Virtuosity is, after all, but a high development of the natural use of the hands, to which, in a less skilled form, every one is habituated from childhood up; common ground, whereon all sorts

One day a stranger came to ask Leschetizky for a few finishing lessons. "Will a mud pie give you a fair idea of a mountain?" was the Professor's reply. "No," said the stranger, "but then I don't want the mountain." "Well, you must go somewhere else for your mud pie; we don't keep them here." The stranger went away to supply his needs elsewhere. Any one in Vienna could have told him that Leschetizky inexorably refuses to dole out a slice of his system of study. It is not to be had in a popular an

At five o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon the pupils begin to assemble for the class. For the time being, the salon, crammed with chairs, has the appearance of a concert-hall; the seats for the students, who number over two hundred, cover the whole floor; there is not an inch of room to spare. In former days when there were but fifty or so, the class was quite informal. Given solely for the pupils, it had the character of a private lesson. Each one played what he knew, and had it corrected just a

Of Leschetizky's interests apart from his career there is little to be said. They are but the accompaniment to the song. His pupils are the axle on which his thoughts turn, the rule by which his day is measured. About twelve o'clock he comes down to his work, devoting the early hour to the less gifted, or to the beginners, in order to give them the benefit of his most tranquil frame of mind. The lessons last an hour or more, according to the virtue of the pupil and the Professor's own mood. Very