2 mins
From the ARCHIVE
Spanish virtuoso Pablo de Sarasate gives an exclusive interview to The Strad in his eye-wateringly bright yellow salon in Paris
FROM THE STRAD
MAY 1893
VOL 4 NO.37
Despite his gray hairs Sarasate is looking as young as ever. The long, straggling locks which used to hang in elfin trails of ebony black about his forehead, have given place to a mop of iron gray hair which brings into relief the handsome black eyes of the great Spanish violinist.
I found Sarasate at home just preparing for a rehearsal, standing by the grand piano with his wonderful “Strad” in his hand and playing. Everything in the room was yellow, the ceiling and walls were gilded, the couches and chairs covered with heavy yellow silk brocade. The sunlight came in through stained glass windows, the prevailing tints of which were yellow, and every piece of drapery in the room was a brilliant mass of daffodil colour. It almost blinded me, nor could I help saying so to Sarasate.
“Ah, you Northerns,” he said smiling. “It is the colour of the sunlight. I love it. Even my bedroom beyond is furnished in the same colour,” and sure enough it was so. Everything was yellow there, just as in the salon where a yellow embroidered silk cover was thrown across the dark wood of the grand piano.
While we talked, Sarasate, violin in hand, and I paced up and down the polished floor, for the salon was an immense one, and I ventured to remark that at least the floor was not stained yellow. “Do not say anything against my little apartment,” said Sarasate. “I am very fond of it, and although I do not occupy it half a dozen weeks in the year, I am happy to know I have it. ”
Sarasate’s candour is a very rare thing, and although one may regret his small repertoire, yet what the great violinist does play is played so deliciously that the public can forgive him. I asked Sarasate if he found his life a tiresome one, and he said, with a shrug:
NICK HOWE
“Well, man must work; he is unhappy when an idle animal, and I have my bad days and my good days; but on the whole I am very happy.”
The day after my interview Sarasate had one of his remarkable triumphs at the Colonne concert. The Chatelet Theatre was crowded from floor to ceiling, and Sarasate’s reception was something extraordinary. I was one of those who went behind to the artist’s room to congratulate him, and as he saw me he pulled out an autographed photograph and said quickly: “See, I have not forgotten my promise. I put this in my pocket for you when coming out.” It was a simple thing, but it shows that Sarasate is kindly and obliging in character. Like all great artists, he is simple and genial in manner. He affects no airs and does not try to make himself either mysterious or disagreeable. Some say that at heart he is very proud of himself and his violin playing, but I did not find it so.