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and each of his seven pupils in turn sat at the other. It
was a wonderful performance. Young Voss, a handsome
American, carried off the honors by a little. Now and
then the master would let fly a rebuke, and play a passage
as a pupil had played it, then play it as it ought to have
been played. Beautiful as the pupil's work had been, the
superior splendor of the master's touch was immediately
recognizable. He gave one young lady a devastating
dressing down—poured out wrath, criticism, sarcasm and
humor upon her in a flood for ten—no, as much as twelve
minutes. He is a most capable and felicitous talker—was
born for an orator, I think. What life, energy, fire in a
man past 70! And how he does play! He is easily the
greatest pianist in the world. He is just as great and just
as capable today as ever he was.

Last night, at dinner with us, he did all the talking for
three hours, and everybody was glad to let him. He told
us his experiences as a revolutionist fifty years ago, in '48;
and his battle pictures were magnificently worded. Potzl
had never heard him before. He is a talker himself, and a
good one, but he merely sat silent and gazed across the
table at this inspired man, and drank in his words, and
let his eyes fill and the blood come and go in his face and
never said a word.

Among those who came to Mark Twain's
apartment in Vienna was Ossip Gabrilowitsch,
then a pupil of Leschetizky—less than a dozen
years later to become the husband of Clara
Clemens. In an article in the New York Times,
last year (1930)—"Memoirs of Leschetizky"—
Gabrilowitsch wrote:

"The Clemens drawing-room in Vienna was a rendez-
vous for distinguished men and women of all types and
nationalities. Clara enjoyed great popularity in musical
and social circles; and I was by no means the only young

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