Sauer is that rare bird, a pianist who boasts not only the solid
science of the German school, but also a subtle Slavic strain
in his playing. He played Bach, Beethoven, Schumann, and Brahms
with deep, unaffected sentiment, healthy Teutonic sentiment; but
let him loose in Liszt, Chopin, or the Russians, and a second
temperament came to view. I puzzled over this anomaly for years,
wondering how a North German - hard-headed Hamburger - could spin
such a many-colored web of exotic music.
- James Huneker
The art of Emil von Sauer (1862-1942) distinguishes him as one
of the nineteenth century's most inspired musicians, his recordings
vividly imparting a nobility of spirit which enlivens all the
music he played. While Sauer was born in Hamburg, Germany, his
Scottish mother was a pianist from the Gordon family, daughter
of a painter well known at the time. Sauer's mother had been a
pupil of Ludwig Deppe and was her son's first teacher. The young
Sauer's awakening to music came about in an unexpected way. In
his as yet untranslated autobiography, Meine Welt, he recalled:
"It was one of the evenings which our family was spending
with the Lundt's that I performed the Polacca by Weber in a mood
which stunned a numerous audience and incidentally myself. Without
being, as I thought, in the least equal to its technical demands,
I had spent several days previously painfully learning the piece.
Suddenly I began to play as if a burst of inspiration had come
upon me; like one metamorphosed, oblivious of surroundings, with
a free, fiery diction. Chords which I had supposed out of reach
of my fingers I suddenly caught up by the fistful and flung off
with queer confidence. Runs and trills rippled off my fingers'
ends as if they had always been accustomed to the exercise. The
whole performance sounded with a dignity, with a voice of solemn
exultation. What mutation might this be? It looked like witchcraft
or madness. At last when the twelve-year-old youngster rose from
the stool with flushed cheeks and in a feverish excitement, it
was without the least idea of what had taken place. Now I hold
the solution of the riddle. Like a tropical plant languishing
in an alien soil, then transplanted to its native loam, I found
the one thing needful. It was the publicity, the largeness of
the room, the sense of a listening audience, rows of faces, which
filled me with the sense of power. Unconsciously, in the glow
of interpretation, I felt the calling of an inborn talent, of
the virtuoso. There in the sultry atmosphere of the concert room
I breathed new life; the fetters fell from my limbs, and my flagging
wings spread for a soaring flight. That evening I crossed the
border into a new phase of my career. Suddenly a passionate love
of music fired me and without further urging on my mother's part
I devoted my leisure hours to the instrument. The slope of the
raised cover no longer filled me with loathing. The black monster
had become my trusty friend."
In the winter of 1877, the fifteen-year-old Emil Sauer heard Anton
Rubinstein play:
"To describe the effect his playing had on me is impossible.
Shortly before this I had heard Mme. Schumann perform her husband's
pianoforte concerto and Hans von Bulow, the five last sonatas
of Beethoven, considering myself greatly edified by the reverential,
the rigidly objective interpretations. But Rubinstein! What a
difference! His spontaneous, lyrical utterance smote me into ecstasy.
Mozart's A-minor Rondo, some variations by Haydn, Kreisleriana
and Fantasiestucke by Schumann, Liszt's transcriptions of Schubert's
songs - they all began to live from that time. Scarcely daring
to breathe, I listened to this revelation. Not a tone, not a nuance
escaped my ear. It all seemed as if a new light had broken over
the world, a new voice to interpret an hitherto unintelligible
world.
"As the great master played, something seemed to break within
me; music, everything took on a new meaning to me; the bonds of
my soul were loosened, and I knew that, henceforward, come good,
come ill, music was to claim me for her own. I ran all the way
home, and sitting down to the piano, tried to play as Rubinstein
had played."
Soon afterward, Sauer played for Anton Rubinstein, beginning with
"a short prelude to accustom my hand to the instrument -
then the bell-like first triad in F major - the opening of Bach's
Italian Concerto, and I felt my fetters drop away. Consciousness
of Rubinstein's presence was no constraint, it was an inspiration.
My mother has often told me how, after a few minutes Rubinstein's
face brightened, and how he followed with quickened interest my
performance of Beethoven's F-minor sonata and several pieces of
Liszt and Chopin. As I finished, Rubinstein came forward and kissed
me on the forehead. Then, turning to my mother, he said there
was no further doubt as to what my calling should be."
Anton Rubinstein advised Sauer to study with his brother Nicholas,
a pedagogue considered Anton's equal as a pianist: "I give
you Emil; make a great pianist of him." Sauer learned that
Anton had arranged a full scholarship for his studies in Russia.
In Moscow he met Alexander Siloti, a pupil of Rubinstein who became
a close friend.
Of his lessons in Russia, Sauer wrote:
"Without . . . blind hero worship, I can say that Nicholas
Rubinstein never had an equal as a teacher. It was the power of
his personality, a super-human insight, which enabled him to diagnose
talent. Following the motto: 'one rule won't fit all cases,' he
treated each individual case by a method adapted to that case
alone. No one understood so well as he how much more can be accomplished
in four hours of thoughtful, concentrated effort than in four
days of dull drudgery. Said he, 'Four hours a day, equally divided
between forenoon and afternoon; anything more than that is useless.
Nothing is to be accomplished by mechanical finger exercises.
Worse still, you risk the utter extinction of what little spirit
and intelligence you happen to possess. Mechanical exercises are
aimless and vain unless the head is working, too. Head and hand
must work together. And even so, you must take care not to unlearn
in the fourth hour what you learned in the first.' The conclusion
of fifteen years of practice finds me increasingly grateful for
the hours of useless labor which I have been saved."
The sudden death of Nicholas Rubinstein, which Sauer suspected
was a murder resulting from jealousy, came during Sauer's second
year (1881) in Moscow. The conservatory Nicholas had founded rapidly
deteriorated.
After deciding against studies with Leschetizky, Sauer returned
to Hamburg. With his family unable to assist his career, Sauer
moved to London, enduring a poverty little relieved by giving
lessons and playing for indifferent listeners. But his situation
was reversed when the artist H. B. Brabazon became his patron,
supporting Sauer and arranging a tour in Spain and Italy. In Rome,
Sauer met Liszt's companion, the Princess Sayn-Wittgenstein, who
insisted that he approach Liszt and attend his master classes
in Weimar.
In 1884, Sauer and Brabazon arrived in Leipzig and were received
by Liszt: "To begin with, the conversation turned to our
impressions of Spain, our experiences in Rome, and the Princess's
state of health. Then he said: 'My expectations are truly pitched
very high - the Princess writes to tell me that she is quite delighted
with your playing' (here he addressed my patron in French) 'and
also the selflessness with which you, my dear Sir, have interested
yourself in this talent. That is noble, and high-minded disinterested
behavior is today becoming ever rarer.' Brabazon beamed! He then
invited us to accompany him that afternoon to the general rehearsal
of his Christus, which was to be performed the next day. 'Tomorrow,
too, we must improvise a brief session at Bluthner's', he said
in conclusion, 'for I am really curious to hear you.' "
At the Weimar master-classes, Sauer met Arthur Friedheim, Moriz
Rosenthal, Alfred Reisenauer, and his Russian colleague Siloti.
A diary of the lessons by a student, August Gollerich, noted the
following performances by Sauer: 1884:
May 31. Sgambati: Piano Concerto op.15; 1st movement (with Alfred
Reisenauer at the second piano)
June 5th. Sgambati concerto: 2nd and 3rd movements (idem)
June 11. Schumann: Toccata
June 13. Bellini-Liszt: Reminiscences de Norma [Liszt then played
part, went into detail on accents, correct embellishments, advised
on dynamics]
June 20. X. Scharwenka: Piano Concerto (with Reisenauer at the
second piano)
July 2. Schumann: Novelettes from op. 21 [Liszt "insisted
on great fire and very clean playing"]
July 4. Chopin: Etude in A minor, Op.25, no.11 [Liszt commented:
"Play the basses loud and make the rhythm emerge sharply."]
1885:
July 3. A. Rubinstein: Piano Concerto no.5 (with Friedheim at
the second piano)
July 6. Sgambati: Piano Concerto op.15 (Miss Mettler, solo; Sauer
at the second piano)
Liszt's American pupil Carl Lachmund kept a journal of his time
with Liszt and noted, "Emil Sauer was another newcomer of
high promise. He played with splendid rhythm." Lachmund also
points out "at another lesson Sauer played the Schumann Toccata,
and splendidly."
Sauer's experience at Liszt's classes was tainted by the presence
of many "creatures devoid of talent" who abused Liszt's
generosity and took time away from "men of ability, of true
devotion to Liszt, [who] were obliged modestly to take a back
seat or were shoved aside by toadies and sycophants." Yet,
on one occasion, Sauer heard Liszt play Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata
for violin and piano, and he afterwards screamed in delight while
turning cartwheels, as noted in Arthur Friedheim's autobiography.
Perhaps this was the most significant musical impression of Liszt
he would receive. The composer was fond of him and often invited
Sauer over for a game of whist.
In 1901, Sauer reflected on Liszt's teaching:
"It should not be imagined that this consisted of lessons
in the usual sense; rather they were like university lectures,
which anyone could attend or cut at pleasure. Although they were
interesting for laymen and duffers, just as is any apercu from
the mouth of a brilliant man, such persons learnt as little as
anyone does who attends a university without prior grammar-school
education."
Sauer was invited to Paris in 1934 by Marguerite Long to give
master classes. After decades of prominence and recognition as
a Liszt pupil, he offered a more mythic view of Weimar:
"Liszt did not give piano lessons in the way it had been
done from Czerny to the present; rather, he would wax eloquent
of the high forms of art. . . similar to the way that Greek philosophers
passed their ideas on to their disciples without being teachers."
He also noted how tempi in Liszt's music had changed:
"You should have heard how [Liszt] played the Campanella:
with what generosity he attacked the octave passages. . . and
with what refinement he played the bell . . . How different appear
to me the Campanellas that I hear today, which always seem to
aim at breaking speed records."
Sauer's international career began with a Berlin debut in 1885,
playing before the Imperial family, continuing until two weeks
before his sudden death in 1942 when his final performance was
of Schumann's Piano Concerto, with Hans Knappertsbusch and the
Vienna Philharmonic.
Events in his youth and international fame had prompted Sauer
to write an autobiography in 1901, at the age of thirty-nine;
less is known of his remaining forty years. Sauer also taught
in Dresden and, from 1911, in Vienna. Michal Hambourg, the British
pianist and daughter of Mark Hambourg, saw Sauer at the 1938 Queen
Elizabeth Competition in Brussels, where he served on the jury:
A mane of white hair appeared above a black cape lined with red
satin. He was surrounded by beautiful young women. His male pupils
found him less pleasant, referring to him as being truly "sour".
Among his prominent students were Stefan Askenase, Elly Ney, Helene
Morsztyn, and Angelica Morales - an extraordinarily talented Mexican
pianist who became his second wife. The playing of both Morales
and Ney has much in common with Sauer's unique style. His significant
role in European concert life was such that Bela Bartok attended
his Budapest recitals and wrote of them as major musical events.
Sauer frequently appeared as soloist with conductors such as Nikisch,
Weingartner, Furtwangler, and Mengelberg.
Emil Sauer's pianism remained at a high level throughout his life:
his finest recordings were made in 1940, at age seventy-eight.
One rare document, a concert performance of Schumann's piano concerto
with Mengelberg (published here) reveals Sauer before an audience.
He may have been influenced by having heard Clara Schumann perform
this work. His interpretation is relaxed yet dramatic, the antithesis
of the high-strung excitement generated by Alfred Cortot, who
championed this concerto. After Sauer, other performances sound
simplified into one-dimensional dramatic gestures.
With the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1989, research led
to the discovery of a thirty-five-minute radio program recorded
by Sauer for Austrian Radio (RAVAG) in 1940. At the end of World
War II, the Russian army brought numerous war trophies to Moscow,
among them European radio recordings. The performance heard here
by Sauer of Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat, op. 9, no.2, was once
published in the LP era by Melodya. Pursuit of this enigmatic
recording led to the complete broadcast session, at which Sauer
played works in the same sequence as in the latter part of his
recital programs during his last years. As his studio recordings
are of miscellaneous works, this RAVAG session allows us for the
first time to hear a continuity in Sauer's programming and a provides
a fuller understanding of his artistry, especially since most
of the compositions played here were not commercially recorded
by him.
Schubert's Impromptu in G-flat major, op. 90, no.3, was often
played in G major by 19th-century pianists. Sauer follows this
practice and uses Liszt's edition, which adds octave transpositions
of chords and alters some harmonies. A Roman pianist, composer
and pedagogue, Sgambati had been a significant pupil of Liszt
who had introduced the 19th-century Italian public to Beethoven
and Wagner. Sauer gave an early performance of Sgambati's piano
concerto in Rome under the composer's direction and possessed
a manuscript copy of the work with detailed markings made by Sgambati.
The nonagenarian daughter of Sgambati recently donated his archive
to the Biblioteca Casanatense in Rome, including over 90 letters
from Sauer.
Sauer's life and art are still in need of research. These live
documents help recover a musical genius unique to his time and
are vital in providing our troubled culture with an entrance to
the lost world he inhabited.
Allan Evans © 1998.