Beethoven's Kiss
This special gesture helped a young pianist open the door to
achievement
By Andor Foldes
I was seven years old when my father asked me to help him in the garden.
I worked as hard as I could and was richly rewarded when father kissed me,
saying: "Thanks, son, you did very well." It was the first praise I
consciously received in my life. It made me happy and proud. After many
decades, my father's words still ring in my ears.
When in 1953 I made my
first orchestral recording for the Deutsche Gramophone Company, I played
Liszt's two piano concertos, accompanied by the Berlin Philharmonic, one of the
finest orchestras in the world. The first concerto, a childhood acquaintance, was finished in a jiffy. On the
next day, the second work did not go as smoothly. I had learned Liszt's No. 2
piano concerto only shortly before the recording session and was jittery. We
had to go over a particularly difficult passage again and again.
After a while one member of the orchestra rose and turned to
me, saying: "Mr. Foldes, don't worry. You have done extremely well in the
first work; there is no need for you to be nervous. We admire you." I
started to play the same passage again and carried it off without a hitch.
At 16, in the midst of a personal crisis arising
from differences with my music teacher, I met Emil von Sauer, Liszt's last living pupil, who paid
yearly visits to Budapest. His adoring public feted the grand old pianist with
his leonine white mane like a semi-god. One of the city's prominent music patrons asked me for tea to meet this idol, and my elation was boundless.
Sauer divined the real purpose of my presence and
asked me to play something for him. I sat down at the piano and launched into Bach's Toccata in
C major. He listened intently and asked for more. I suggested a Beethoven sonata. He
nodded his approval and I put all my heart into playing the Pathétique. When I
had finished this word, he ordered me to play on. I continued with Schumann's
Papillons. Finally, he rose and kissed me on my forehead.
"My
son," he said, "when I was your age I became a student of Liszt. He
kissed me on my forehead after my first lesson, saying, 'Take good care of this
kiss - it comes form Beethoven, who gave it to me after hearing me play when
I was your age.' I waited for years to
pass on this sacred heritage, but now I feel you deserve it."
Nothing in my life has meant as much to me as Sauer's praise. His kiss lifted
me miraculously out of my crisis, I might not have become the pianist I am
today without Sauer's encouragement.
Just recently, when giving a master
class for young pianists, I felt that one of the youthful artists could do even
better if given a small pat on the back. I singled out the one thing he did
best and praised him for it before the whole class. His eyes began to glow, and almost
immediately he outdid himself-to his own amazement and that of the class. A few
words brought out the best in him.
Praise is a potent, driving force. It lights a small candle in a dark
room and its glow begins to fill the space around us. This is magic, and I
marvel that it always works.
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| Beethoven |
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| Beethoven's student, Franz Liszt |
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| Liszt's student, Emil von Sauer |
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| Andor Foldes, who received Beethoven's Kiss |
