Читать книгу The Autobiography of Wilhelm Stekel - The Life Story of a Pioneer Psychoanalyst - Wilhelm Stekel - Страница 15

My financial situation was much improved. I earned some money and was able to afford my own expenses. Father was abroad, my sister was employed as a governess in Vienna. My brother worked as a clerk away from home. However, we had to be cautious on monetary matters.

Our lodging was too big for just Mother and me, so my mother advertised in the newspaper for a roomer. An old Czech school teacher with his son, a thorough scalawag, applied. The son had been expelled from school in Prague. His father, a Mr. Peck, was not well off, and so he bargained with my mother. Finally it was agreed that Mr. Peck would pay six shillings a month, and in addition Mr. Peck would continue my piano lessons. Mr. Peck could play some dances on the piano. His school salary was meager. By playing the piano and the violin at the nearby inn he earned the major part of his income. He asked me to play something and I responded with the not overly-difficult “Sonata in G Minor” by Beethoven. Mr. Peck was astonished. He rushed to my mother. “The boy plays the piano better than I do!” Mother was pleased. She had one of her typically glorious ideas: “Everything the boy learns will be of advantage in his future years.” She bought a cheap violin, and Mr. Peck started to teach me. I was rough on the poor man because I had no sense of pitch. The noise I made on the fiddle was nerve-wracking. But I made rapid progress. Subsequently, as a medical student, I played the violin in an amateur orchestra; later I learned to play the viola and participated in a string quartet. I am grateful to my mother for the many pleasurable hours my training in music has afforded me.

At the piano I first attempted the most difficult pieces, and neglected the bass. “You are climbing the rungs of the ladder too quickly.” It did not matter; I learned to improvise and this ability helped me over many hours which otherwise would have been arduous. I regret that I did not learn harmony and counterpoint, but once I began improvising on the piano, my inventive power seemed inexhaustible. I learned everything by myself. Had I possessed a trustworthy sense of pitch, I would have become a musician. I believe that the artistic gift is not one-sided. A creative mind can express itself in any branch of art. I also tried to draw, but I could go no further than the infantile beginnings. My son, by the way, is a distinguished composer and has a perfect sense of pitch; my daughter is an able painter.