The Olympia Pianist Who Claimed Franz Liszt Taught Him Through a Window

NITSCHKE WAS A PUPIL OF THE WONDERFUL LISZT.

He Tells of His Youthful Days in Listening to the Famous Composer and Pianist in Far-Off Westphalia.

“Where did you get your musical education?” asked a TRIBUNE reporter of F. Nitschke, the sage of Sherman valley, whose splendid playing of the piano at the recent concert created such a sensation.

“From Franz Liszt,” was the prompt reply.

“Not the famous composer and pianist?”

“The same. My father was a Polish refugee who settled in Munster, the capital of Westphalia, where I was born.” Continuing, he said: “When the old man Liszt was still a young man, his world-wide fame as a minstrel had conquered the prejudices of professional [musicians], had won and held against all comers the palm of a new school; he developed and shared with no one except Wagner. In those days of noble rebellion, of magnificent revolt, political, musical and social, the old—or rather then young—man, Franz Liszt, played in my poor father’s humble piano factory, a one-horse concern whose stock amounted on an average to no more than a half dozen pianos, mostly squares, an upright or two, and only one concert grand, which latter he could not sell because the denizens of Munster were not rich enough to indulge in the luxury. This concert grand Liszt selected for his first recital in the ancient and magnificent historical salon of the Munster Rath house, or council chambers. At that time Liszt was at my father’s house daily and played on the grand for hours at a time, and I, about six years old—father and mother not permitting me to disturb the great artist—would steal into an adjoining bedroom that communicated with the music room by a small, high, old-fashioned window; at least it seemed very high to me at that time. I couldn’t reach it on tiptoe, but I could climb and stand on the foot end of a clumsy old bedstead and, looking through the window, I chuckled to think how completely I had stolen a march upon my mother. Here, without money, without price, I secured my first impressive music lesson, and was rewarded with a kiss from the great man himself, who, with beads of sweat upon his forehead after a terrific, heroic performance, turned around and spied me in the window. He laughed all over with his grand, iron face and pulled me bodily through the window and set me on his knee. Alas! My victory was of short duration.

“The music having stopped, familiar voices sounded the alarm; they were hunting me all over the house, and I had reason to fear. But the great minstrel, my guardian angel pro tem, interposed the flash of his flaming eyes; and father and mother were proud to stand off in awe of that face and figure; he had taken my part, that settled it. I was free to stay with him. The soul of a child is fearfully and wonderfully made! My great guardian angel, appearing but once upon the humble scene of my work-a-day life, had set his image upon my heart. I worshipped him as only children are privileged to worship, as heroes worship heroes. All children are born heroes; if they fail of true fruition, with whom is the responsibility? If our physicians tremble to answer from considerations the most kind, most gentle, most generous and humane, I may be excused for bowing heart and head to their superior judgment.”