PEOPLE TALKED ABOUT

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 2, 15 July 1905, Page 2

PEOPLE TALKED ABOUT

Crack Pigeon Shot. Mr T. Parker, of Napier, Hawke’s Bay, whose portrait we give this week, has a remarkably good record as a pigeon shot for the season 1904-5. He

uses a Hollis gun and Amberite cartridges. A glance through the following list will give some idea of his calibre: Waipukurau Open Handicap, Easter, 1904 (30 yards).—Killed 20 out of possible 20, 191 h and 20th just falling dead

a few feet outside 40 yards boundary. Killed the first 18 with first barrel. Feilding Match, Open Handicap, King's Birthday, 1904 (29 yards).—Killed 20 out of possible 20, 11th bird just falling outside 40 yards boundary. Killed 17 with first barrel. Hawke’s Bay Open Handicap, 19th June, 1905 (30 yards). —Killed 15 out of possible 15, 12th bird just falling outside 40 yards boundary. Killed 12 with first barrel. Won N.Z. Championship Meeting, 20th June, 1905 (28 yards).—Killed 24 out of possible 25, one getting right away and another falling outside 60 yards boundary. Killed 18 with first barrel. In the above four matches it will be noted that 79 birds fell out of a possible 80. Only one got right away, but five dropped dead outside the boundaries. The second barrel was only used fifteen times, sixtv-five falling to the first barrel. O » » » » Mark Hambourg. Am I. then, among the veterans that I should be asked to tell you about my youthful days (writes Mark Hambourg. the famous pianist, in the “Days of My Youth” series in “M.A.P”). Well, well, on reflection, I find I cannot deny the by no means soft impeachment. When I came to England in 1890 as a “prodigy” I used successfully to levy a tax of a pound of sweets on every kiss I gave to the ladies in my audiences. Now, alas! this sweet source of sticky revenue has dried up, and the tax is just the other way about—indisputable proof that I am no longer young. On June 1, 1879, I was born at Bogut-

char, in the province of Veronez, where Peter the Great built his ships. Although I am a Russian by birth and parentage, my name, as people have remarked to me, is far more German than Russian. But it must be remembered that there is a strong German element in Russia, dating back to the reign of Peter the Great. Peter, realising that the country needed new blood, invited foreigners to come to settle in it, and Hie Germans were the first and practically the only race to take advantage of the offer. It is a curious fact that these settlers, although they made themselves at home, never learned Russian, and to this day there is a big district on the Volga where the only language spoken is the German of 209 years ago. From one of these emigrants, then, we are descended. My father was director of music at. the local conservatoire, and so from the very first I breathed a musical atmosphere. This, of course, had much to do with my precocity, for atmosphere is everything to the development of an artist. I am told by my father that my first musical efforts were made at the age of eighteen months. My nurse used to take me to hear the band in the gar dens, and with my small fist I used to

follow the conductor beat for beat. After a time he took notice of me, and would try to put me out by superfluous flourishes, changing the time, and so on, but always, so I am told, I was able to follow him.

My next efforts at conducting were in the Conservatoire, of which I had the free run, but I do not remember that they were very successful. However, during these early years I was always playing and breathing in music. When I was about six years old my aunt, as a surprise for my father’s birthday, got me to learn a rather difficult composition by heart, for naturally I could not read music then. The “surprise,” indeed, surprised my father, and forthwith he took me under his tuition. Then it was 1 realised the difference between playing as play, and playing as work. I did not take at all kindly to the latter, and used to malinger shamefully, deliberately striking splinters into my hands to escape the hated practising. However, my father persevered patiently with me. and at last came a day when ambition awoke in my breast, and the drudgery was drudgery no more.

In 1888 my father was appointed Professor at the Moscow Conservatoire, of which the late Grand Duke Nicholas was president, and I continued my studies there. One night the students gave a grant concert, which was preceded by a dinner, to which I was invited. Everybody was very kind to me, and someone asked me to have a glass of champagne. I had no idea what champagne was, but I had some, liked

it, and, like Oliver Twist, asked for more, to everyone’s amusement. Then came the concert. I had to play a Concerto by Field, and in the middle of it the champagne got into my head and drove out my memory. 1 could see the conductor shaking in his boots, for there was a very distinguished audience, but 1 retained sufficient presence of mind to improviso until the notes came back to me. After the concert the Grand Duke Nicholas was very kind to me. The highest rank my childish mind could conceive was that of “Excellency,” and, to everybody’s amusement, including the Grand Duke's, I kept addressing his Imperial Highness by that title. I remember the Grand Duke took me on his knee and asked what I would like to have as a present to commemorate the concert. “A railway train and rails, Excellency,” I instantly replied, and next morning they duly arrived at our home.

Later on my father was advised to take me to England, and in 1890 I made my debut at Prince’s Hall, now the well-known Prince’s Restaurant. 1 knew no English, and when people, having somehow got hold of the idea that my name was Max, addressed me as such, I did not contradict them, thinking that it was their English way of pronouncing Mark, and so for long I was persistently described as “Max” Hambourg. About this time I made my first acquaintance with the interviewer. I remember a gentleman came to see me from the “Pall Mall Gazette.” I had no English, he had no Russian. I endeavoured to talk to him by signs. He looked quite frightened, and afterwards wrote a very amusing account of my “extraordinary antics.” After Prince’s Hall I toured all over England. Then one day Dr. Richter heard me play, and strongly advised my father to send me to the great maestro Les ehetizky at Vienna. I went, and had a rude awakening. I had been thoroughly spoiled in England, and thought I knew everything. Leschetizky very soon showed me that I knew

next to nothing. He was tremendously strict, and made one work desperately hard, but I have nothing except the kindest feelings for him, if at the time I often rebelled against his discipline. I have many anecdotes of the maestro. Let me see if I can remember one or two. He was a very quiek-tempered man. and most impatient of stupidity. One day at our weekly concert a student. who, like myself, thought he knew everything, was playing a piece very much to his own satisfaction, when the maestro, withoutt a word took him by the collar and flung him clean out of the room. It is only fair to that student to add that he is now a very distinguished and successful pianist. But Leschetizky had the kindest of hearts.

When I was leaving him he called me into his room and said, "Now, I have some money for you.” I was astonished. for 1 could not think what he meant. “All the money you have paid to me,” he continued, “I have put aside for you, so that when you made your start you should not be hampered by lack of means.” However, as I had already secured an engagement, I did not need the money, so I did not take it, and the maestro characteristically gave it away to someone else. Then his memory! One day I was playing a fantasy. “Ah,” said the maestro before I began, “it is 50 years since I played that.” Before I had gone very far he stopped me. “You played a crotchet instead of a semi-crotchet there.” “But it is a crotchet,” 1 protested. “A semi - crotchet.” he said angrily. “A crotchet,” 1 retorted, for I, too. had a hot temper. “Look here,” he said, fixing me with his eye, “understand this. When I say it is a

semi-crotchet, it is a semi-crotchet.” And as a matter of fact when I came to look at the music it was a semicrotchet. At Vienna 1 had a delightful time meeting all sorts of distinguished people, among them Anton Rubinstein, who was most kind and flattering to me. I studied under Leschetizky for three happy years, and then in 1895 I made my debut as a “grown-up” at Vienna, playing Chopin’s Concerto in E MinorDr. Richter being the conductor. Since then I have been three times round the world, and have visited pretty well every civilised country un der the sun. except India and South Africa, and I have visited some un civilised lands too. I remember play ing before the ex-Queen of the Sandwich

Islands, and being very much afraid that if I played badly I should be eaten up. In the course of my travels 1 have had many narrow escapes—two quite lately. I was touring in America at the time of the terrible Hoods there, ami was on my way to St. Louis. The train 1 travelled in had just crossed a bridge over a raging torrent when the bridge collapsed. Only a few days afterwards 1 again escaped certain death. All my -arrangements wen* made to go by a certain train when, much to my annoyance, unforeseen delay forced me to go by a later train. This saved my life, for the train I missed went over an embankment, and every passenger was lost. I think the most amusing incident that ever happened to me was the sending in of the following bill by a young lady in Syd ney when i was touring in Australia. It is addressed to “The Great Virtuoso, Mr Mark Hambourg,” and runs as follows:—

£ s. <l. To one pair of kid gloves split and completely destroyed in applauding u .3 •> One fan broken in applauding on tlie same occasion o s u One pair of French heels kicked off in helping to insist on an enrol e o 4 o One parasol broken in the saint* endeavour 0 11 G The price of a chair broken in the excitement and enthusiasm caused by his playing 1 1 <i Total of damages for which the playing of Mr Mark Hambourg is responsible 2 6 •• A cheque for the above will oblige. r.S. Kisses will be accepted in payment. I felt sorry I was not called upon to settle either in specie or kind. Well, I do not think I have anything more to say. So far as possible I practise four or five hours a day, but travelling often makes that impossible. Some years ago I became a naturalised Englishman, partly from motives of expediency, for I find that when one travels as an Englishman one gets on very much better than as a Russian, especially in Russia. But I became an Englishman mainly from inclination, for I dearly love my adopted country and its people. Nothing makes me more angry than to hear it said the English are not a musical nation a notion bred by jealously out of ignorance. For myself. I know that there is no audience I love better than an English one.