yed his second Concerto. The Hamburg master was not a
virtuoso, in the present acceptance of the term: his touch on the piano
was somewhat hard and dry; but he played the work with commendable
dexterity, and made an imposing figure as he sat at the piano, with his
grand head and his long beard. Of course his performance aroused immense
enthusiasm; there was no end of applause and cheering, and then came a
huge laurel wreath. I mentioned this episode to Mr. Bachaus a few days
later.

"I first played the Brahms Concerto in Vienna under Hans Richter; he had
counseled me to study the work. The Americans are beginning to admire
and appreciate Brahms; he ought to have a great vogue here.

"In studying such a work, for piano and orchestra, I must not only know
my own part but all the other parts--what each instrument is doing. I
always study a concerto with the orchestral score, so that I can see it
all before me."

XXIII

ALEXANDER LAMBERT

AMERICAN AND EUROPEAN TEACHERS

Among American teachers Alexander Lambert takes high rank. For over
twenty-five years he has held aloft the standard of sound musicianship
in the art of teaching and playing. A quarter of a century of thorough,
conscientious effort along these lines must have left its impress upon
the whole rising generation of students and teachers in this country,
and made for the progress and advancement of American art.

It means much to have a native-born teacher of such high aims living and
working among us; a teacher whom no flattery nor love of gain can
influence nor render indifferent to the high aim ever in view. There is
no escaping a sound and thorough course of study for those who come
under Mr. Lambert's supervision. Scales must be, willingly or
unwillingly, the daily bread of the player; the hand must be put in
good shape, the finger joints rendered firm, the arms and body supple,
before pieces are thought of. Technical study must continue along the
whole course, hand in hand with piece playing; technic for its own sake,
outside the playing of compositions. And why not? Is the technic of an
art ever quite finished? Can it ever be laid away on the shelf and
considered complete? Must it not always be kept in working order?

"Have you not seen many changes in the aims of students, and in the
conditions of piano teaching in New York, during the years you have
taught here?" I asked Mr. Lambert, in the course of a recent
conversation.

"Some chan