Stars blaze and fade eternally within the wheeling firmament of music, some more rapidly than others. Ever in quest of your listening pleasure your Fine Music Broadcaster directs its gaze towards the distant glimmer of virtuoso pianist, inspired composer and inspiring teacher Moritz Moszkowski in this centenary year of his death.
Germany likes to claim Moritz as a son. Had he lived another ten years, however, the Fatherland would have disowned him. For Moszkowski was both Jewish and Polish, albeit he was born in Breslau, at that time part of Prussia. Indeed, his elder brother, Alexander – writer, satirist, critic, crony of Albert Einstein – died in Berlin in 1934, an ominous date in history for such as the Moszkowski brothers.
Both were wits. The pompous conductor Hans Von Bülow, asserting the superiority of German music, once declared: ‘Bach, Beethoven, Brahms: All the others are cretins!’ To which Moszkowski replied: ‘Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer and your humble servant Moritz Moszkowski: All the others are Christians!’ At a recital by the flamboyant Anton Rubenstein Moszkowski turned to a friend and said: ‘Anton must be sick tonight. He got two of those top notes right!’
Moszkowski, born in 1854, revealed his musical ability early. His instrument was and remained the piano. In 1865 the Moszkowski family moved to Dresden where Moritz enrolled in the conservatory; later he studied in Berlin. He did not achieve success early or easily and once described the force that impelled himto compose his Opus 12, ‘Five Spanish Dances’ as poverty.
Visiting his friend and employer, composer Philipp Schwarenka, hoping for a loan, he found Schwarenka smoking a pipe. Schwarenka invited Moszkowski to join him but there was no tobacco to be seen. Instead, he pulled a fistful of sea-grass stuffing from his sofa and proffered it. Moszkowski saw the futility of asking him for money.
Returning home he searched his sketch book for ideas and the result was his ‘Five Spanish Dances’. For which, incidentally, his publisher offered him a pittance, claiming that Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert and others had always sold their compositions cheaply and that, as a publisher, he felt obliged to follow that tradition. The ‘Spanish Dances’ proved popular, going into many printings and arrangements. The publisher made a good deal of money from them.
Spanish music was all the rage. The folkloric authenticity of Moszkowski’s ‘Spanish Dances’ is dubious, but they showed sufficient colour, rhythm and melody to convince parlour performers that this was the real Hispanic thing. They soon made him a favourite and put some much-needed funds in his pocket. He wrote further works revealing an ethnic influence – From foreign lands, op 23, Caprice Espagnol, op 37, Neue spanische Tänze in E flat, op 65 no 1 and, as a tribute to his own heritage, Polnische Volkstänze, op 55. In time Moszkowski achieved such renown as an outstanding concert pianist that he was able to induce Franz Liszt to join him in a recital, playing Moszkowski’s ‘First Piano Concerto’ in a reduction for two pianos.
In 1884 he married the younger sister of pianist and composer Cécile Chaminade. The marriage did not last long – in 1888 she eloped with the poet Ludwig Fulda. Worse was to come. Moszkowski worked so hard at playing the piano that he caused irreparable damage to the nervous system in his arms, forcing him to give up playing for conducting and teaching and, fortunately, composing. Performers who came to prominence before the age of recording left us merely a legend; composers left a legacy.
In 1897 Moszkowski moved to Paris and shortly after the move his daughter died and his son was conscripted into the army (fortunately he would survive the war). Having sold all his copyrights to his publishers and invested the funds in securities, which became worthless with the advent of the First World War, Moszkowski received no royalties. He became a recluse, ill and living in poverty. A thorough Romantic, always an admirer of Chopin, Mendelssohn and Schumann, he also became a victim of changing times and tastes. His own brother declared that ‘conditions are now unfavourable for the apostles of absolute musical beauty; the time demands fact and a program; it calls for a Wagner or a Berlioz, as in literature it demands a Zola, an Ibsen, or a Tolstoi.’
Or for that matter a Scriabin, a Schoenberg, a Debussy, a Satie – composers Moszkowski described as ‘artistic madmen’. He ceased teaching composition when his students asked for instruction in the techniques of these disturbing novae.
Yet Moritz Moszkowski’s unfailing brilliance as a teacher and his widely admired music had won him not only many fans but many profound friendships. In 1921, when his plight, both physical and financial, was apparent, a fund-raising concert was held in New York’s Carnegie Hall — the Americans had long tried to lure Moszkowski to their shores, offering fabulous fees, but he declined the offers.
A galaxy of stars offered their services, raising what in today’s currency amounted to US$175,000, intended to cover his many debts and buy him a life-time annuity. Alas, there were financial complications and he received not a sou. In 1925 he died of cancer.
The fact that Moszkowski’s personal sorrows appeared not to inflect his art resulted in his compositions being held to lack depth. ‘Neither masculine nor feminine,’ as one critic put it. ‘Fails to stir the intellect,’ wrote another, though adding, ‘yet it sets the pulses tingling.’
Enough pulses were set tingling for Moszkowski’s pieces to be included by outstanding pianists in their concert repertoires; weightier works were not disgraced by their company. Moszkowski was styled ‘The Sunshine Composer’.
‘They have a champagne brilliance’ … ‘Moszkowski is a charmer’ … ‘Hammock tunes, easy listening on a lazy summer’s afternoon’. ‘His work stands on that wavering border between “light” and “serious” music, where “light” does not mean “negligible”.’
Moszkowski left us concerti, operas, ballets and a host of études and morceaux. The latter include 12 Études de Piano pour la Main Gauche Seule, a work dating from the year 1915, another ominous year in world history.
More and more of Moritz Moszkowski’s work is making itself heard; his delightful and challenging ‘Piano Concerto in E’ is a growing concert favourite. A later generation of music lovers has spotted this modest star and notes its small but brilliant light.
Article written by Stephan Gard for the magazine, March issue