Skilful use of all these means makes up the art of interpreting, and it is for the mentality of the pianist to employ them in their varying degrees, to mould them, combine them, and dispose of them, and thus invest the whole work with the pulsating breath of actuality. No doubt there must exist in the interpreter a natural good taste which will govern his outlook, and this can only spring from a sound musical instinct trained by education, and by hearing great artists perform. For it goes without saying that there are no absolute rules about interpretation. There can but be some broad outlines of style and taste to stimulate the imagination of the student, and help him in his task.

As I have already pointed out, the interpretations of the masterpieces of music by great artists become established as traditions. Still the personal thought of the performer should make its influence felt in the rendering of all music, even of the most classical type, if that rendering is to be of any -real value and interest, only this personality has to conform to the general dicta of the style. Thus it will be found that no two fine artists will interpret a piece in the same way. There may be a thousand differences of expression in their particular performance, and each of them equally correct. This fact only illustrates how imagination and colour may be infused into interpretation in much variety. For great musical compositions may well be compared to beautiful landscapes, which are ever changing in colour and effect through the action of atmospheric conditions. On no two days does the country look alike, yet its composition and outline remain fixed, everlasting.

It is told of Beethoven that he played over one of his own compositions to a talented pupil in order to give him some idea of the interpretative side, and then asked the student to play the same piece again. This was done, and the master complimented him, remarking that although it differed greatly from the original, it was decidedly better.

This reminds me of Tchaikovsky, who was asked, after conducting a composition of his own, why he did not do so in the same way as he had once done before. “My friend,” the master replied, “if you ever see me conduct this again, it will be different still. It is merely a matter of mood.”

Another detail which it is necessary for the student to bear in mind is that technical passages ought never to be played as if they were of purely digital dexterity, as this method makes of such passages only hard, uninteresting interludes of display, wearisome to the listener and of no value musically. All technical passages, even the most difficult ones, should be considered as embroideries of the main harmonies; in fact, they are the rhetoric of the composition.

Melody also should not be knocked out with unbalanced enthusiasm to the entire detriment of the accompaniment, nor should any two notes of a melody be given with exactly the same tone colour, for this will create monotony of sound. Every single tone should be on a general scale of gradation, each having its own place in the scheme of chiaroscuro; because the mechanical tone of the piano itself, with which we are dealing, makes it imperative that every device to conjure up perspective and charm should be brought into service, and above all typewriting effects of precise striking must be strenuously avoided.

Of course, I know that there is a school of musical thought which practically condemns any effort at interpretation or emotion in music. They like to be given just the notes as they were written down, like so many words recited without a shadow of life or expression. Artists have often been much called to task by critics who hold such views because their interpretations of the masterpieces of music are based on the natural conviction that the greater the music, the more power of colour, fine feeling and poetry it ought to be able to express. It is difficult to understand the people who talk with arrogant authority about how exactly a musical work should be interpreted. They like to invest it with a sort of traditional dryness of expression which tends to render especially the older of the great classics a sort of trial of tediousness which many genuine music lovers submit to endure only as a kind of educational duty. It is, I am sure, a good deal a matter of temperament that controls these radical divergences of ideas about musical performance. It seems to me that to hold such views is not to get any further than mere arrangements of detail and narrow perspective, while the true majesty of the picture is missed. I have many times met truly musical people who found Bach and Beethoven dull, and were surprised at having been stirred by a great fugue or sonata which they had never appreciated before. And I am certain it was because they had never been allowed the opportunity of realizing the full glory of such music. For can one imagine a nobler or wider range in which to find every wealth of imagination, intellect and feeling than is to be found in the great sonatas of Beethoven.

The earliest pianoforte music we know of was written in the form of simple dance measures such as courantes, allemandes, pavanes, gigues and so forth. These were performed upon very primitive-keyed instruments, amongst the best known being the virginals, harpischords and spinets, and they were only suitable to the plainest methods of treatment.

Indeed, the story is told of Dr. Arne, the celebrated eighteenth century English composer, that he said about one of those instruments, ” It is the devil’s own instrument, my masters, like the scratch of a quill with a squeak at the end of it.”

Only since the variety and capacity of instruments have developed, and also since Bach created the complex and polyphonic harmonies which revolutionized pianoforte music, has the scope of harmonical expression become so greatly enlarged, and the problems which surround it so complicated. The discovery of the pedal, too, changed the whole complexion of interpretation on the piano, while in the light of modern technique it seems strange to think that before the advent of Bach the use of the thumb and also of the 5th finger was absolutely forbidden by the best teachers.

In those days the wrist was held high and the hand stiff; a high chair was no doubt also used for sitting at the instrument, and the whole attitude while playing must have been one of rigidity and precision. Any rendering of this primitive music was necessarily very quiet and limited in the means employed. All violent crescendo or diminuendo effects were impossible, and the rhythm was confined to the swaying but monotonous lilt of the gigues of that day, or to the more stately measures of the pavanes. Certainly it would seem, to say the least of it, indecorous to play a piece of the sixteenth century even on a modern pianoforte with the abandonment of a Liszt Rhapsody, or, vice versa, to render the passionate music of Chopin or Liszt with the demure coldness of the early masters. This is where a sense of style should come in, to help the artist in his conception of the different aspects of musical composition.

Dragging the time, another tiresome error of judgment, proceeds generally from the same cause of over-fervour. The player who suffers from this blemish mostly owes it to a lack of sense of proportion and taste, and to a certain want 01 artistic perception of the guiding line between true sentiment and sentimentality.

This is because some of the fingers are stronger by nature, and some are weaker, and by using them according to their different strength when required, a certain natural gradation of tones is thereby generated.

In the early days of pianoforte playing it was considered wrong to use the thumb or the 5th finger at all upon the keyboard, and later when these two were admitted it was still forbidden by teachers to take a black key with the thumb, and this even until quite a short time ago.

The reason that the use of the thumb was thus limited was partly due to the fact of its working rather awkwardly on the black notes owing to its construction. But the main objection to it really was that it was impossible to get a legato tone on the black keys if the thumb was employed. This would be so still if it were not for the help of the pedal; but until recently the pedal had not reached the perfection of mechanism which it now enjoys, and was consequently not applied so much. At any rate people did not think of using it to facilitate the free employment of the thumb. ‘Nowadays, of course, even jumps can be bound over by the skilful application of the pedal, and a smooth, flowing, continuity of tone can be obtained in the most awkward passages.

They will most often complain bitterly themselves of the lack of that foundation of technique they never had the opportunity of acquiring, and the want of which continues to hamper them through life. In fact, one of the greatest living pianists, who was practically self-taught, once told me that he would have saved himself ten years of drudgery if he had been able to study one year with a great pianoforte teacher like Leschetitzky.

The hands and movements of such self-taught pianists, too, almost always look ungainly and distorted on the keyboard when playing awkward passages. And this is not only disturbing to the eye but very often also to the quality of the sound, which quickly becomes laboured and heavy under severe strain. The player who “arrives” with such disabilities must indeed have genius for the piano! But there are not many such highly gifted people in the world, who succeed in spite of every obstacle. I believe the inhabitants of this globe number over fifteen hundred millions, but amongst them all there are not more than a dozen really great pianists!

Therefore, student, learn to play scales carefully, tunefully, exactly, rhythmically, smoothly, and eventually quickly, and arpeggi evenly, clearly, and elegantly before embarking upon the performance of the great works of pianoforte literature. Many cast up their eyes to Heaven in an inspired way while playing, hoping, I suppose, thereby to make up for lack of practice on this earth! But Heaven cannot help them if they have not learned to play scales and arpeggi properly.

I am constantly seeing advertisements by teachers of “how to play the piano in five minutes by correspondence!” But I know by my own experience that after thirty years of continuous study there are still many problems in piano-playing that I cannot solve.

Care must also be taken not to allow any beating of time by the head or foot, as this may easily degenerate into a nervous trick, and certainly tends to encourage jerky and rigid movements of the body. It is a good plan to make the beginner, after each exercise that he does, lift the hand off the keys and shake it gently from the wrist, so as to ensure that the relaxation is preserved, and that there is no excessive effort or fatigue of the muscles or any cramped action whatsoever. I do not believe in striving to lift the fingers too high off the keys every time when striking each note, because, in a highly complicated mechanical instrument like the piano, every movement must be conserved as much as possible, and naturally any extra effort only tends to lose time, thereby impairing the velocity in fast passages.

Some people think that by teaching that the fingers be lifted very high they can get a clearer and more distinct articulation, but I do not agree with this, as I have always found from my own experience that if the wrist is relaxed, thus allowing absolute freedom to the fingers, they will articulate just as distinctly, and with much added lightness and quality of tone, if not lifted too high.

The most important elemental stage of thus holding the hands in a natural supple position, having been well initiated, by means such as I have just been trying to explain, the pupil will do well to proceed with five-finger exercises of all descriptions, until he has thoroughly mastered the position in question, and it has become a second nature to him to hold his hands thus. With a child beginner of from six to ten, after a month of practising for not more than ten minutes a day, if well watched, the hands, according to my personal experience, should be absolutely in order. The Five-Finger Exercises of Hanon are excellent in this respect for settling the fingers in the right way, and also will keep a child interested in the different groups of notes presented. I know of none better for the purpose of elementary practising.

The first thing, then, that presents itself is the position of the body when seated at the instrument. With regard to this, the pupil should be seated with his chair exactly at the middle of the keyboard, and at a medium distance, that is to say, neither too near nor too far, but so that his fingers reach and fall easily and naturally upon the white notes when he is sitting upright on the front half of the chair.

On no account should the pupil be allowed to lean back, but always be seated on the forward portion of his seat. The seat should be sufficiently raised so that the pupil’s elbows at their natural angle will be almost on a level with the keyboard, if anything just a little below it as shown in above.

I must be excused for drawing attention to the young lady of Rio, but it is because her case is true and typical of so many other young females and also males whose houses are much nearer London than Rio. I should like, therefore, to say a few words about attempting to play great masterpieces of pianoforte music without sufficient knowledge of technique, and especially of that immensely important branch of it, the mastery of scales.

It has been my experience that whenever particularly young and raw students come to play to me and want to show what they can do, they invariably attempt such giant works as the Brahms- Handel Variations, or the Appassionata Sonata of Beethoven, or the Chopin Ballads. After they have finished playing a sonata or two (most often in tempo andante, like our friend of Rio), I ask them to play me a scale. They usually evince astonishment at my request, and answer that they never practise scales at all.

If ever they do what I ask, their performance of them proves to be, as a rule, unrhythmical, uneven and altogether unsatisfactory. Yet most pianoforte works contain passage-writing which is directly based upon scale progressions. I have known many advanced pianoforte students who are quite unable to arrive at any high standard of performance through lack of technical knowledge and want of proficiency in scale-playing.

Who does not quote, at times, in referring to such performers, the hackneyed plea for indulgence: “He makes up in expression what he lacks in execution”? As if this excuse itself did not prove upon examination to be a sheer piece of nonsense. For where there is no sufficient command of execution the expression can only be halting, stilted, and ineffective. In a reproductive art, such as pianoforte-playing, the perfect rendering of all the emotions inspired by the music can only be obtained through unlimited control of technique, which, of course, implies absolute mastery of manual dexterity.

So many talented amateurs who really wish to study their art to the backbone and attain professional proficiency do not realize that they must first acquire what is generally known among artists as a good ” school” The world “school” used in this sense means a firm background of technical principles by which difficulties can be solved in the most logical and profitable manner. The acquirement of these principles can only be gained in the years of hard work which should precede any serious attempt at performance.

It was interesting to me, in the light of my views on this subject, to have been present recently at the Dancing School of the Russian Ballet. Here their greatest stars practise every day, for several hours, technical exercises and steps which eventually constitute a wonderful and intricate ballet. And though to the impatient the mere study of scales may seem intolerably dull, yet it is a wonderful feeling to notice power growing gradually, and things becoming easy which at first seemed insurmountable.

How can this prejudice against great development of technique have arisen? I think that it is just because technique is sometimes considered as meaning only that one-sided capability of being able to move the fingers and hands with special agility “digital dexterity,” as the critics call it!

That particular capacity is no doubt a very important and necessary branch of technique on the piano, but it is only one small part of the whole immense subject; and the pianist who has given all his attention to that branch alone can certainly not be called in the best sense of the word a great technician, nor can he arrive at the highest results with only that development.

Technique in pianoforte playing, as in all other arts, signifies far more than agility and rapidity of finger action. Rather does its perfect attainment comprise within itself every means of expression that it is possible for the artist pianist to command. Thus technique represents to him in all its varying branches, endurance, tone or colour production, touch, intensity of feeling, phrasing, elegance of execution, symmetry of detail. And the man who has only studied and can merely produce agility, has but acquired one-fifth part of pianoforte technique; therefore how can he be the highest kind of artist, if, indeed, a real artist at all!

Now I believe that many people have the imagination and the emotions of the artistic temperament, but these qualities with them lack outlet for want of adequate means of expression. They cannot give a vent to their thoughts, because they do not possess the technical development sufficient to enable them to do so. Technique should therefore comprise the mastery of all means of self-expression in music, and on the piano especially can no player afford to neglect any manual facility that tends in the long run to help him arrive at the summit of interpretation. For it stands to reason that the more physical capacity the artist possesses for clothing his thoughts, the less hampered will he be in giving expression to the best that is in him.