The Lion of Poland: The Story of Paderewski — David Hume — John Shaqi
The Lion of Poland: The Story of Paderewski
David Hume · en
The relief was immense and the discomfort in his arm, although still
present, became bearable. Then one dreadful night in Rochester, as he
was playing the opening chords of his recital, he felt an excruciating
pain tear through his right arm. (Afterwards, when it was too late, he
found out what had happened. The piano used in the Rochester concert had
just come back from the factory, where a new and unbriefed workman had
carefully changed the action back to its original stiffness.) Yet
Paderewski stayed on the platform to play the Beethoven “Appassionata”
Sonata, one of the most taxing works in the repertoire. He finished the
program in a state of near collapse, then rushed off to find a doctor,
and to hear the terrifying truth. He had torn some tendons in his right
arm and could no longer move his fourth finger. The doctor said, “The
situation is very grave, and there is nothing that I can do for you.
Nothing but time will help. You must rest.” This was easy advice to
give, but how does a pianist rest when he has concerts ahead of him for
which tickets have been sold? Paderewski did it by rearranging the
fingering in every piece of music on his programs so that he could play
with only four of the fingers on his right hand. This is like asking a
baseball pitcher to fire a curve ball without using his thumb!
It was not the first time that Paderewski had demonstrated the peculiar
iron of his constitution. It was certainly not the last.
At the end of the tour he returned to New York exhausted and
discouraged, but relieved that the gruelling months were over. He was
met by news that both pleased and horrified him. Mr. Steinway, all
smiles, announced that various cities not included in the tour were
besieging the office with requests for Paderewski! “Now Paderewski,” he
said expansively, “you are going to give those extra concerts and we
will pay all expenses—everything. Every cent that is taken in will be
clear gain for you. That will be our small contribution to reward you
for what was, I am sorry to say, badly managed at the beginning of your
tour.”
Generosity of spirit was a factor that meant a great deal to Paderewski,
but although Mr. Steinway’s thoughtfulness touched him, he was aghast at
the thought of playing more concerts. He was also struck by the sobering
thought that since his career had probably been wrecked forever by this
tour, he might as well make the most of it. He gave the concerts and
made more from the extra ones than he had made out of all the others put
together.