The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 11, 1906, Page 10

there is none more romantic than oupled with it there is the tale of the on of his father, the llliterate gar- Kubelik was born in Michle, a pre lage not far from Prague 4 working and earn the ‘evenings ittle son vielin L 2 form bent down by s smock teac n clogs how to f peasant to be n their old folk s boy had a gift which had enc his children, had yielded to it, t a relief from all his harassing for it would the name of a * fant prodigy. All the neigh- kitchen were a wonderful then was of the kind to appeal to any- body, even those who understood nothing of music. He went to the public school. One day when he was § years of age he caused a sensation in the mind of .the school principal. Some word of the boy's talent had reached him, and he sent.for Jan. The singing class was in progress and a violin accompaniment was needed. The boy was told to play it, although the picce ‘was new to him. Without any hesitation and with hardly a glance at the music he plunged into a double accompaniment on two strings, a feat which few older musiclans could hope to accomplish. For the rest of that afternoon there was no singing class, for the marvelous playing of the child eclipsed all other thoughts in the teach- er's mind. “Herr Gott!” ‘he exclaimed. *Was achst du dar junge?” (‘“What is. that you're doing, boy? Who taught you to play like that?’) Simply and unaffectedly the lad told who his teacher had been. From every room In the school build- ing teachers were summoned to listen to the playing. Hitherto Jan had been known as an imp, quick end: ready in his studles, but a center of turbulence and disturbance in every class. But for that one afternoon all his shortcomings were forgiven him. He was told to play some- thing else. He immediately played a con- certo by Berlioz. Amazed at the talent he had discovered, the principal startled the whole school by & speech in which he held Jan Kubellk up to them all as a model to follow, forecasting the future that was before him. After this the temptation of his father began. Friends and neighbors alike tried to persuade him that he ought to travel with the child, letting him play as an in- fant prodigy. On every side he was told of the great sums of money that he could make by exhibiting his son’s wonderful genius. But the father saw further ahead than that. He had watched the careers of other prodigies—how they had .been halled as phenomena, freaks and mar- FRANCISCO SUNDAY THE SAN vels.. But he also had noticed that none of them ever amounted to gnything when they grew up.. And for this again Jan Kubelik owes to his father's forbearance and self-sacrifice his present greatness and wealth, One day there was a journey to Prague, the capital of Bohemia. With a basket of food, and the boy's violin strung over his shoulder, father and son trudged to the city. Now, when Kubelik goes from Prague to his birthplace, he drives in a victorla, behind a pair of blooded horses, with an English coachman and a Hindu footman on the bax. But on that memorable occasion he had been summoned to play at the Prague Conservatory. The father had consented, for he wished to have his judgment and that of the village school professor con- firmed by the great teachers in the city. On the way they passed many beautiful homes, one palace4n particular attracting the attention and envy of the boy. And when his footsteps began to falter and he wanted to stop and rest, the father pointed to- the palace. “Don't you want to liye there some day?” he asked. Then the little boy dried his tears and trudged manfully on again: The sepsation created by the boy at the conservatory on that day is ancient history now. But:.to the father it was the beginning of a still greater tempta- tion. Managers and impresarii, who saw money in the prodigy, descended upon the little cottage in Michle. Offers were made that would have meant comparative af- fluence to the -gardener, But through it all he stuck to his first resolution. And thus a prodigy was lost and a genius saved to the world. Meantime the boy had changed his am- bitions. His earliest fancy. was to be an explorer, to visit out of the way places that he was told of, barren wildernesses, If any of that is left to him, it is an un- fulfilled wish, for all the travels he has made in the last five years have been ac- complished in a private car. “From my seventh year I never had any ambition except to become a violin- ist,” eaid Kubellk to a newspaper man; “gfter that I knew that I would be ore.” But he had to pass many, a cloudy day, overcome many an ‘obstacle, before that came about. Times were not very pros- perous in Bohemia, and the little market’ garden was barely sufficlent for the needs of the family. ‘The father's health failed. Three of Kubelik's brothers died. The hands that thrill thousands, and which are insured for $50,000, worked for many a day in the garden with hoe and rake, But his genius was too apparent for such obstacles to be strong enough. Like his old school principal, professors went out of thelr way to make things as easy as possible for him. He was admitted to the Prague Conservatory at the age of 12, although the entrance age for others was fourteen. He was apt in his other studiés and similar favors were shown him in the public schools. “1 found my, six years at the Prague Conservatory rather monotonous,” Kube- ik has been candid enough to admit. “Sometimes 1 have felt very dissatisfied with myself. Sometimes I have felt that my progress was very slow. At first there was my father to spur me on. He wus more than my father, for he. was my first teacher, and he belleved in.me every day and minute of the time.” Kubelik is reluctant to tell of the priva- tions that they all had to go through in order to complete his six years at the conservatory. His tuition was given him for nothing, for Professor Sevcik saw a world celebrity in the lad. But the money to support him had .to come from his fathery Every cent that could be spared from the maintenance of the home Was gent to the boy in Prague. Very often that was- barely more than enough to keep body and soul. together, Many an hour did he practice on his- violin with an empty stomach, his head aching for want of sufficient nourishment. / ) CALL. Readefs of character that see Kubelik's face see a rountenance remarkable for its refifiement Wnd gentleness.. But about the mouth and chin are lifies that gell of ‘a strong will power and determipation. And, as he stood in his little garret, with his violin under his chin, he shook the bow ut the world. “You shall pay me for this.” he crfed.through his clenched tecth. And he plunged again into the Paganini concerto, whicn he can play now as nobody but Paganinl ever has been able to play it. > His elghteenth year witnessed the be- ginnfug of his.triumph and his greatest sorrow. He graduated from the Prague Conservatory before an audience of the keenest critics. He was marked right away for the success that he since has achieved. But he played with a sorrow hanging over him, for his father had been il for a year. At times he was 50 sick that hé could ndt listen to the boy’s playing. At the end of the year 1598 he obtained his first engagement. He received $10 for playlug at this concert. With $5 of the money he bought a wreath for his fath- er's funeral, “He diedl just before the public gave me the reward for which he had struggled,” are the words of the artist. But in his playing that day there was the feeling that enly a man with a great grief could put into:the 'strings iof a violin. He played as if he was determined that his father should hear him, dead or alive. He was playing on his own heart strings. He played as never genius. had played before in that city. And #hat great audience rose at him with one shout when ‘he finished. un- ders of applause that echoed for blocks around burst cut at the pale faced boy, who had eyes for nothing but his violin. Musictans, critics and the people at large, men and women, emotional Bohe- mians and visitors from other cities’ ac- claimed the advent of a new master. But when his old prafessor, Anton Sev- clk, and Julfus Skrivan, who afterward became his sccretary, went to look for him they had a long search.: Finally, in the green room, they came on a lad with his head on the table, his' violin in one hand, ‘sobbing out the grief of his heart. Instead of the volume of applause he hedrd“the dying words of his father. In- stead of the concert hall crowded with people who seemed to have gone crazy he saw a bler in the lowly cottage at Michle, On his way to his debut in Budapest Kubelik rode in a third-class railway car- riage. A continental third-class railway carriage is a vehicle one step removed from an American cattle car. Dry eyed, but heart-broken, he was riding to.his engagement. His surroundings only seemed to accentuaté his misery; - “A vear from now,” said Jullus Skri- van, “you will be riding first class.”” And the secretary was a true prophet. On this frail looking lad, barely 19 years old, devolved now the support of his mother and little ‘brother. For several months _his earnings - were barely sufficlent. to meet his needs. As he says, he recelved great encourage- ment from his debut in Budapest and his subsequent engagement in Vienna. But he had to pay the traveling ex- penres of himeelf and ‘his secretary, Wwho was teaching him the business end of his profession. And half of all he earned went back to the little village of Michle to keep up the cottage: and his widowed mother. Narrowly escaping death in a rail- road collision, he arrived in Vienna, still iIn considerable trepidation. The critics of Budapest acclaimed him as a veritable hero of the violin, But the reputation of the critics on the Viennese press. was redoubtable enough to make anybody quail. But, after he had_seen the first notices he received in Vienna, Kubelik quailed no more. For he had taken Vienna and lifted it off its feet bodily. His triumphs then began to come more easily. On the continent of Eu- ropé audiences succumbed readily, But there were still qualms. London was still to be met and conguered; London, the rock on which #o many an artistic . ship Had been wrecked; ships, too, that had beén turned out of famous yards. London, the grave of reputations, per- haps will always be dregded by artists. London, that has turned down i and applauded mediocrity, was out of its apathetic calm when Kubellk arrived. Hans Richter, the famous Wagnerian conductor, had made » Kubelik an offer to play at his gele- brated concerts. And Lopndon Knew that an artist who played at a Richter concert must be something out of the ordinary. But it was not prepared for the sensational performance of Kubelik. So London “got wise” and followed in the line of citles that knew better than itself, and' which. had already stamped Kubelik as a genius. Comfort the young artist had already begun to know and appreciate by this time. He traveled third class no longer. He played on a 314,000 Stradivarius glven him by Kaiser Franz Josef of Austria. But his Juxuries were destined_to be houglit with American donble eagles, In London he met Hugo Gorlitz, the manager who piloted Paderewski through nine tours In this country, and who had made many hundred thousand dollars for the Pole. He saw the possi- bilitles in the violjnist, possibilities greater even than those in Paderewski. Kubelik, on his side, was advised that he could find no Dbetter manager to steer him over the United States. From New York to Omaha, and from Montreal, Canada, to New Orleans the American public “came through,” as was expected. People combined to pay Kubellk such sums as had never been paid before to any one man for his rervices. Paderewskimania had been cclipsedt, Kubelikomania was the order of the day. And for all this, Kubelik took back with him-to Furope a large size check. with six figures on it In 1902 he fell in love with the Countess Czaky Szell. His love over- came his natural modesty and reluc- tance to court a refusal on account of A FATEFUL GOLDE When Buckley asked the sanction of his employer, Professor Rudolph Kin- fein, to the marriage of thar young man and Kinfein's nice, Donna, he expected that here would be extraor- dinary conditions attached to Kinfein's approval. Kinfein was a wealthy and eccentric sclentist, metaliurgist and physician, who dabbled in various strange matters for his amusement. Buckley, his assistant, had grown in time-to understand the old man’s oddi- ties, and to have a profound respect for the Intellect which had already made several valuable scientific discoveries. Kinfeln smiled benevolently and combed his long white beard with his fingers when the younger man spoke. “Well, John," he hegan, “Dgnna is 22, and of course she will marry some time. I suppose you are no worse than other men. Now, if I impose a task upon you before I give my consent, you will agree to perform n? “1t I can,”. replied Buckley, cau- tiously. i The old gentleman chu"ckle:l, It won't be very hard, John. From a private compartment beneath the labo- ratory shelf, he drew out a box”and handed it to Buckley. “Open it,” he said. John did so, and revealed an oval yell8w object nearly the size of a foot- ball, and practically of the same shape. It seemed to be of metal. 5 “Now, John, there's your golden egg, went on the scientl “I fixed it up for you in my leisure moments. If you open it inside of a month you get Donna and a wedding present, too. It not, you'll have to wait awhile. “What tools may I use in opening b1 “That’s the point, John. You may use your own two good hands, and any instrument which doesn’t weligh over rains.” M"‘%‘ll‘ty grains repeated John, amazed. “Why, that's less than 4 quar- ter of an ounce.’ “Exactly.” John stared first at the egg and then at the scientls ‘But, professor,” he expostulated, “an instrument welghing fifty grains will be practically useless. Why, the blade of a small penknife weighs that much. A thin latchkey weighs more.” “But an instrument m.ucr': less in weight will open that eg : John looked dublous. ut suppo: ing 1 use something which weighs more?” “You wouldn'tgdo it, John, if you agreed not to,” ’unonaed the profes- sor, comfortably, “and I'd catch you at it it you aid.” John was young, in love and ener- getic. His three years’ work in the various hobbies which the scientist af- fected had given him an unusual.tech- nical education, great confidence in himself, and a certain delicate manual dexterity which almost surpassed that of his employer, clever as the older man was. It was very natural that he should accept the challenge and bear away the egg. . He found Miss Donna in the parlor and éxplained the situatipn. It is hard- ly germane to mention that when the &1l placed her elbows on the table and settled her chine.in her pink paims to iisten, she looked distressingly pretty—so pretty, in fact, that John was compelled, to interrupt his narra- tive while he kissed her. When he had finished his aeccount of the conditions, she .rose. ‘““You are to go pight to your room, John,” she com- manded, “and open that egg. I'm dying to see what's In it. No; yéu can't stay here with me and work on it; I would disturb you.” With the wariness of long experfende she dodged around the table at ‘this moment, apticipating by the fraction of a second a lunge on the part of John. From a place of safe- ty behind a chair, she pointed to the door. "Avaunt! And tell me to-mor- row morning what you found.” John reluctantly -gave up - a-chase which promised to be fruitless and obeyed. Settled in the easy chair in his own room, he paid the professor the com- plment of examining the egg very carefully before beginning operations. He went over it with his fingers, but could feel no joints beneath the yellow paint which covered the metal. There was no depression on the surface. It was his theory that a hidden spring would opén the sphere, and he spent the balance of the evening in searching for ft. At midnight the secret was still undiscovered, and he gave it up for the time' being.’ Donna was inclined to poke fun at his failure the next morning. As the chuckling professor readily allowed her to try her hand, she spent an hour and broke two hairpins in an equally fruit- less effort. The egg was rather light than other- wise for Its size, but John felt certain that machinery of some deseription, hidden within it, controlled the situa- tion. By shaking it persistently, he was finally rewarded by the sound of a véry faint clicking. 'Thdt evening he made a sort of cat's cradle of string. and placed the egg therein. With the contrivance he was able to whirl the egg over and over, in this way hoping to start the machinery. Next he essayed to saw his through the metal. way He secured a burglar's saw of the finest steel, but was compelled to dispense with the handle, a# it brought thé welght of the }ittle instrument up to nearly one hun- dred gralns. ,paper which It contaiged. his lowly “How much meney . is estate?” there 1 my he demanded of his secretary one day. The. secretary was fabber- gasted, but he obeyed orders and counted up the assets. Counbed Y Austrian thalersi"it ran into & mitlion ‘And the purchasé of Castle Bychor near Kolin in Bohemia followed. A landed proprietor and the owner of one .of the most magnificent castles In Austro-Hungary was a different per- sénality from the son of a gardener. The marriage with the Countess Czaky Sszell then became a matter of course. “When I think of my castle I pon- der or Fate's vagaries,” sald Xubelik. “Within the pleasure grounds are gar- dens ten times as large as the littls vegetable patch at Michle from which my father won the maintenance for my mother and the family.” He has been separated from the Countess since November. Meantime, she has presenfed him with another baby girl, whom he will see for the first time in San Bernardino in a few wecks. The twins, Marie and Anna, have been left at home i Castle Bychor. Intermittent Jabor for the next three evenings with the saw, a bit of gloth serving as a handle, resulted .In some badly blistered fingers and.the scrateh- ing of the paint in several places. That was all, if the fact that the egg was proven to be steel as fine and hard as the saw, is excepted. In desperation Buckley attempted to crush the obstin- ate gval between his hands and failed again. “I've made up my mind to get the peint off,” he announced to Denna. “Then I can tell where we're at.” “We're at $ea,” she replied dolefully, tenderly kissing one of the blistefed fingers. Buckley secretly agreed with ner, but his pride had been aroused by repeated failures and the whole-souled chuck- ling "of the professér, whose sides seemed to be shaking constantly.with merriment over his assistant’s predica- ment. He would open the egg now, or die. The young man took his penknife apart, sharpened the lightest blade to a razor edge and attacked the paint. Although it clung exasperatingly,. in time he 1ad cleared it from the surface. This revealed the presence of.thousands of liftle holes in the metal, each closed by a minyte fleck of the paint which the blade would not dislodge, It was well. into the when this was done. “Just loon those confounded needle holes:” he ex- claimed In disgust. Under the stress of a brilliant - ::lrm;‘. [‘)lom‘ml J\rl‘mped up and c’l:::%lerd ands deli ~ J D% hands delightedly. “That's it. John One was brought, and John' se self to the task of mmsuTL ‘u&z‘ cr:‘«::: fully as fa: as it would go nto’ each of the little holes. This removed the fleck of paint and the absence of f:'x:ud showrd that hole had been ed, no t explor:tlonxm. was lost in subsequent “Foxy old gentleman. your A smiled John. “but he overlooked irar point. If he'd thought about ft, T know he'd fixed it te keep the paing out of these wretched holes.” It was the evening of the Io r of the allotted month that llh:‘b::; needic, penetrating further than usual, produced the hoped for result. There was a whirr of clockwork and a heavy :E:Eaamgen préssure upon it suddenly e Tust itseir through the side John fished a metal cylinder f broken shell, opened it, and wrl:.h‘ !nh:: a4rm around Denna's neck,.read the It was check for five thousand do 2 by Professor Kinfein, lndu:;:u".“;g Mr. and Mrs. Jobn Bucklew.”