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12 Czar Alexander II Unpublished M. R. Often I have been asked by interviewers: “Before which sovereigns have you played during your career?” Then I always thought of the uncrowned kings of my acquaintance who honored me with their friendship or their friendly interest , like [Albert] Einstein, Liszt, Brahms, Anton Rubinstein, Turgenev.1 Afterward my memory would recall from stygian darkness the worldly crowned ones, Czar Alexander II (torn to pieces by nihilists’ bombs), King Alfonso [XII] and Queen Christina of Spain, and especially that most genial monarch Franz Josef I, who made me his Chamber Virtuoso (Kammervirtuose) of Kaiser and King. Vividly do I remember a Court concert given before him, at which appeared beside myself also Fritz Schrödter, Marcella Sembrich, and Toni Schläger2 —the last named setting a world record for nervousness. She crossed herself and prayed before her performance.I do not remember whether or not the gods were responsive to her entreaties. After the concert, the Emperor held a reception and thanked the artists in rather impersonal fashion. However, I was surprised at his technical question to me: “It must be dif¤cult to conquer those intricate pieces with so much ease?” When had the Emperor found time to busy himself with the nature of pianism? Or had the Spiritus Rector of the concert, old Hellmesberger, told His Majesty something in praise of me? About twenty years prior to the foregoing happening, I had played, as a fourteen-year-old boy, before Czar Alexander II, the mightiest monarch of Europe . This was at the time of the Turkish War, when allied Russia and Romania had defeated Osman Pasha, the Lion of Plevna, and captured that place after a long siege. The Czar left his headquarters and want to Bucharest to visit his ally, Prince Karol. I was Court Pianist to the poetess, Carmen Sylva, then Princess and later Queen of Romania. This city was brilliantly illuminated to greet the Czar, and rapturous masses of people, carrying torches, marched through the streets. The following day brought a Court Concert and Ball in honor of the royal visitor. Carmen Sylva arranged the musical program, putting me down for ¤ve pieces. As I approached the piano (an excellent Bösendorfer), I was presented to the Czar and heard him say: “Si jeune?” (So young?) Before and after I played I found occasion to study his truly classical features. His face had—at least on that evening—a remarkable color, which I have never seen on any other person. It seemed to me a rusty, dark silver. His manners were altogether royal, nay, imperial. Pressing around him, ambitious, lovely women, in daring décolleté, ®uted their honeyed ®atteries. I could not hear much except the word “Majesté.” In fact, the word was batted about in the manner of a shuttlecock. Carmen Sylva gave a sign, silence ensued, and I began to play. Hardly had I sounded the ¤rst fortissimo grace-noted C-sharp, when the Czar, with a strong Russian accent, said: “Rhapsodia.” Satis¤ed murmuring resounded through the hall, for Liszt’s Second Rhapsody was at that period at the zenith of its fame and popularity. After that I played mazurkas and waltzes by Chopin, Soirées de Vienne by Schubert-Liszt, and the Campanella, and was delighted at the applause which sounded by no means merely courtly and formal. The Czar offered me his hand, which ruled 150,000,000 Russians, and said that he hoped to hear me often, and also in St. Petersburg. Grand Duke Serge asked the courtiers whether he or I had the larger hands. The question worked to my detriment, for my hand, still exceedingly small then, disappeared completely in his enormous bear-paws. The next day I received a document from the Court Chamberlain which attested “que le jeune Maurice Rosenthal a joué devant l’Empereur etc. d’une manière vraiment élevée etc.” (that the young Maurice Rosenthal had played before the Emperor etc. in a manner truly elevating etc.). At the banquet after the concert I was introduced by his charming Secretary, Baron Fredericks, to the Russian Chancellor, Prince Gortschakoff, uncrowned king of diplomacy. He invited me to tea the following day, when piano-playing, Chinese-Russian Zakuski, and a Muscovite buffet were enjoyed with an obbligato of frenzied shouts and howls serving as counterpoint, and coming from the victory-drunk mob in the streets. Gortschakoff requested a mazurka, but every few moments he was compelled, despite...

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