Paris, and gave concerts in all those towns. In Frankfort, where we
lived in the house of my friend _Speyer_, we still found a lively
remembrance of our artistic talents; our concert in the salon of
the “_Weidenbusch_” was crowded to overflowing, although the room
could easily accommodate eight hundred persons. My new violin
concerto, excellently accompanied, made a great sensation; Councillor
_André_ himself, who previously had always some fault to find with
my compositions, seemed quite satisfied with my new work; for he
repeatedly requested me, after the rehearsal even, to let him have the
publishing of it. Although I declined this most positively, as I was
bound by a promise to my then publisher _Peters_ of Leipsic, to let him
have all my new manuscripts, yet in the evening at the concert _André_
again pressed me, and so pertinaciously, that to get rid of him, and to
prepare quietly for my solo-play, I at last called out to him “Yes.”
This precipitancy however cost me dear, for although I immediately
informed _Peters_ of all the circumstances, in order to exculpate
myself with him, I was compelled to endure many bitter reproaches
for my excessive pliancy towards Mr. _André_. The new piano quintet
with wind-instrument accompaniment, which was now also performed, made
likewise a great sensation, and _Dorette’s_ purity of piano-forte
play, of which until then the friends of music in Frankfort had known
nothing, was greeted with the loudest applause. I was more particularly
pleased with this result, as of all others it was calculated to console
my wife for the abandonment of her harp.
Of the other towns between Frankfort and Paris, and of the concerts
given there I have forgotten everything; I must however advert to the
acquaintance I made of Councillor _Thibaut_ at Heidelberg on this
occasion. That celebrated jurist conducted a choral society that he
had instituted; but excluding all modern church music, he permitted
_ancient_ Italian music only to be sung, of which he had made a rich
and rare collection. Until then I knew nothing more of this music than
what I had heard in the Sixtine chapel at Rome, and was therefore very
thankful to the Councillor for the permission he gave me to be present
at the rehearsals of his society, at which I became better acquainted
with several of those old works, which were carefully practised by
them. _Thibaut’s_ opinion that this music _alone_ represented the
true ecclesiastical style, and surpassed all that had ever been
written since, I cannot coincide with, for to me _Mozart’s_ requiem,
incomplete as it passed from the hands of that master, who died during
its composition, is alone worth more than all I ever heard of earlier
church music; nevertheless, the simple-grandiose style of those works
made then a great impression on me, and I begged permission to study
their scores through. After some hesitation my wish was granted in
such wise that I was permitted to visit _Thibaut’s_ music-room at
particular hours, and to go through the works on the piano, but was
not permitted to take any home with me. I took daily advantage of
this favour, and by that means made myself intimately acquainted with
the vocal method and harmonic sequence of the old masters. While so
engaged I was seized with the desire of trying for once an ecclesiastic
piece _alla Capella_ for several voices, and in the following summer I
carried out my idea at Gandersheim with the composition of the mass for
ten voices, Op. 54. I certainly did not strive to imitate the simple
treble movements of the old masters; but on the contrary I did a good
deal towards carrying out the rich modulation of the later Mozart
method.
Respecting our stay in Paris I published at the time “Four letters to a
Friend” in the Leipsic Musical Journal of 1821, which I here append.
FIRST LETTER.
_Paris_, December 15. 1820.
I trust, my dear friend, that you will give me credit for writing to
you so soon on the eighth day after our arrival, at a time when so many
novelties crowd upon my notice, that I find it difficult to collect my
thoughts. But for my own sake I must not permit the materials to grow
upon me too much, otherwise I shall be wholly unable to deal with them
in their due order.
With a beating heart I drove through the Barrière of Paris. The
thought, that I should at length have the pleasure of making the
personal acquaintance of the artists whose works had inspired me in
my early childhood, excited the emotion which I then felt. In fancy I
reverted to the days of my boyhood, in which _Cherubini_ was my idol,
whose works I had had an earlier opportunity of becoming acquainted
with in Brunswick, at the then permanent French theatre there, than
even the works of _Mozart_; I vividly recollected the evening when the
“Deux Journées” was performed for the first time--how, intoxicated
with delight and the powerful impression that work had made upon me,
I asked on that very evening to have the score given to me, and sat
over it the whole night; and that it was that opera chiefly that gave
me the first impulse to composition. The author, and many other men
whose works had had the most decided influence on my development as a
composer and violinist, I was now soon to behold.
We had therefore scarcely got under cover, when I made it my first
business to pay a visit to those artists. I was received by all in a
friendly manner, and relations of friendship soon sprang up between me
and several of them.
I was told of _Cherubini_, that he was at first very reserved toward
strangers, repulsive even; I did not find him so. He received me,
without any letter of introduction, in the most friendly manner, and
invited me to repeat my visit as often as I pleased.
On the evening of our arrival _Kreutzer_ took us to the grand opera,
where a ballet of his, with pretty characteristic music: “Le carnaval
de Venise,” was performed. It is observable in the singers and dancers
of the grand opera, that they have been accustomed to move in a more
spacious place; in this one, where the space is much more confined as
compared with the opera house that has been abandoned, they appear in
a much too sharp relief. Several grand operas, those of _Gluck’s_ for
instance, can no longer be represented at all, there being not even
the necessary room for the whole orchestra. For this reason every one
looks forward with hope for the early completion of the new opera
house; but actively as they are working upon it, that will not be ready
before the middle of next summer. Before the ballet the opera: “Le
Devin du village,” the words and music by _Rousseau_, was given. Is it
a subject for praise or blame, that the French, notwithstanding the
many excellent things with which their operatic repertoire has been
enriched during the last twenty years, still give the oldest things
of all? And is it indeed a proof of an advanced cultivated taste for
art, when one sees them give as enthusiastic a reception (if not more
so) to the oldest operas of _Grétry_ with their poverty of harmony and
incorrectness, as to the master pieces of _Cherubini_ and _Méhul_? I
think not! How long have not the operas of _Hiller_ and _Dittersdorf_
and others of those days, disappeared from our repertoire, although
these are far to be preferred for their real musical worth to the
greater part of _Grétry’s_. But on the other hand it is certainly very
discouraging, that with us the new only, however poor and defective,
finds a ready reception, and many excellent things of older date are
set aside for them and forgotten. Nevertheless it must be said to the
honour of the taste for art of the Germans, that _Mozart’s_ operas at
least are the exception, and for the last thirty years have constantly
been produced in all the theatres of Germany, which is a proof that the
German people are at length impressed with the inimitable perfection of
those master-pieces, and are not to be deceived on this head, however
extensively the sweet musical poison may spread which flows in upon us
so profusely from beyond the Alps.
The orchestra of the grand opera, as compared with the other
orchestras, reckons among its members the most celebrated and
distinguished artistes, but in _ensemble_ is said to be behind the
Italian opera. I cannot yet judge how far that may be correct, as I
have only heard the latter as yet. In _Kreutzer’s_ ballet, which was
played by the orchestra with the greatest precision, I was greatly
pleased with a hautboy solo, which was executed in a masterly manner
by Mr. _Voigt_. This artist has succeeded in giving to his instrument
a perfect uniformity of tone and intonation throughout the whole range
from _C_ to the high _F_, an accomplishment which almost all hautboy
players have failed in attaining. His execution is moreover full of
grace and good taste.
For some days past I have been less edified at the grand opera than
I was the first time. “Les mystères d’Isis” was performed. Too well
indeed are justified the complaints of the admirers of _Mozart_ of
the disfigurement of the beautiful “Zauberflöte” in this piece
of workmanship, which the French themselves re-christened on its
appearance “Les Misères d’ici”! One must blush that it should have
been Germans, who so sinned against the immortal master. Everything
but the overture has been meddled with; all else has been thrown into
confusion, been changed and mutilated. The opera begins with the
concluding chorus of the Zauberflöte; then comes the march in Titus,
and then in succession some fragmentary piece from other operas of
_Mozart_, and even a little bit of a symphony of _Haydn_; then between
these recitatives of Mr. _Lachnitz’_ own manufacture. But worse than
all this is, that the transposers have applied a serious text to many
cheerful and even comic passages of the Zauberflöte, by which the music
of those passages becomes a parody of the text and of the situation. In
this manner, for instance, Papagena sings the characteristic air of the
Moor: “Alles fühlt der Liebe Freuden,” &c.; and the pretty terzet of
the three boys: “Seid uns zum zweitenmal willkommen,” &c., is sung by
the three ladies. Of the duet: “Bei Männern, welche Liebe fühlen,” &c.,
a terzet has been made, and so on. Worse than all, however, they have
taken the liberty of making alterations in the score: for example, in
the air: “In diesen heil’gen Hallen,” at the words: “So wandelt er an
Freundes Hand,” the imitating bass
[Music]
is entirely left out, which is here indispensably necessary, not
alone to the harmony, but because it expresses the act of wandering
in so characteristic a manner, and the bass sound the _B_ only a few
times instead. You may therefore readily imagine how insipid and
meagre this passage now sounds, which in Germany is so frequently
admired. Moreover, in the terzet of the three females, where _Mozart_
strengthens and supports the third voice with the violins only, the
transposers have added both violoncello and double-bass; so that at
these tender passages, which are for three voices only, the bass lies
in three different octaves, which to a cultivated ear is unbearable.
Similar offences are of frequent occurrence. We must nevertheless do
the French the justice to say, that they have always highly disapproved
of this vandalic mutilation of a great master-piece (the extent of
which from their ignorance of the original is yet not known to them);
but how is it, that the “_Mystères_” have nevertheless kept their
place undisturbed in the repertoire for the last eighteen or twenty
years?--and here where the public moreover, as I see every day, rule so
despotically in the theatre, and manage to have everything their own
way!--
To me, as a German, the performance was not satisfactory. Even the
overture was not executed so well as it should have been by so
excellent a union of first-rate musicians. It was taken too quick, and
still more hurried at the close, so that the violins instead of playing
semiquavers could only play quavers. The singers of the grand opera,
whose great merits may perhaps lie in declamatory song, are little
qualified to render the soft airs of the Zauberflöte in a satisfactory
manner. They sing them with a blunt roughness that deprives them of
all tenderness. The getting-up in scenery, dresses and dancing is
respectable, but not so handsome as I had expected.--Yesterday we went
for the first time to the grand opera, and saw “Clari,” a grand ballet
in three acts, the music by _Kreutzer_. Little as I like ballets, and
little, in my opinion as pantomime merits the aid of the resources of
art, as these are lavished on it here, I nevertheless do not deny that
the Parisian ballet may sometimes afford agreeable amusement, until
one becomes wearied with the monotony of the mimic movements, and of
the yet greater sameness of the dances. But with all the perfection
with which it is given here, pantomime, from the poverty of its
signs, which always require a printed explanation of their meaning,
is, as compared to recitative drama, a mere outline by the side of a
finished drawing. However it may be embellished with golden ornament
and decorated surroundings, as is the ballet here by magnificence of
costume and decorations, it gives the outline only, and the life is
wanting. In the same manner I may compare the drama to the opera--as
a drawing by the side of the painting. From song, the poem receives
its first colouring, and by it only, and the powerful aid of harmony,
does it succeed in giving expression to the indefinable and merely
imagined emotions of the soul which language must be content alone to
hint at. The music to “Clari” is a great success, and in the second and
third act especially the effect is most captivating. It facilitates
greatly the comprehension of the subject by a correct delineation of
the passions, and contains a treasury of pretty melodies which one
regrets do not form part of an opera. Mademoiselle _Bigottini_ played
the chief character, and evinced a deep study of mime and action in her
play. That in very impassioned situations she carried the expression
of her features to the borders of grimace, may perhaps be imputed to
the circumstance that hitherto she has always appeared in a spacious
place, where on account of the distance it was requisite to give strong
play to the features. Perhaps as a German this is my fancy only, for
the applause was never more tumultuous than when (to my feeling) she
overstepped the bounds of the beautiful and graceful.
Before the ballet, the one-act opera “Le rossignol” was given; from
which _Weigl_ took the subject of his German opera of “Nachtigall und
Rabe.” The music of the French opera is of no account, and interested
me only through the masterly execution of a flauto-solo by Mr. Tulou.
It is impossible to hear a finer tone than that Mr. Tulou draws from
his instrument. Since I heard him, it appears to me no longer so
inappropriate, when our poets compare the pleasing sound of a fine
voice to the tones of a flute.
SECOND LETTER.
_Paris_, December 31. 1820.
Since the despatch of my first letter, a fortnight has elapsed,
replete with enjoyment, and since then we have both seen and heard
much that is beautiful; but for the present I must content myself
with writing to you upon that which most nearly concerns my art.
I have now made my appearance before musicians and dilettanti,
connoisseurs and a lay public, as violinist and composer, first at
Mr. _Baudiot’s_, primo violoncellist of the royal orchestra, on the
day after at _Kreutzer’s_, and since then at three private parties.
At the soirées of the two first the company consisted almost wholly
of musicians; at _Kreutzer’s_, in particular, almost all the first
composers and violinists of Paris were present. I gave several of my
quartets and quintets, and on the second day my nonet. The composers
present expressed themselves to me in very laudatory terms upon the
composition, and the violinists upon my play. Of the latter, _Viotti_,
both the _Kreutzers_, _Baillot_, _Lafont_, _Habeneck_, _Fontaine_,
_Guerin_, and several others whose names are not so well known in
Germany, were present; and you may imagine that it was then highly
necessary that I should collect my faculties, to do credit to my
countrymen. The wind-instrument parts in my nonet were played by the
five artists of whose masterly execution of _Reicha’s_ quintets you
will have so frequently read in accounts from Paris. I had the pleasure
of hearing them play two of those quintets, but shall reserve to myself
all detailed observations thereon till I shall have heard some more
of them. At the request of all the musicians present my nonet was
played again the same evening; and if the readiness with which the
assistant players read _à prima vista_ that difficult piece of music
had surprised me, I was still more gratified, upon its repetition, by
the manner in which they now entered into the spirit of the composition
and re-executed it.
The young pianist _Herz_, of whom you have also doubtless read in
the Parisian musical miscellanies, played twice on that evening, at
first his own variations on the theme from the “Schweizerfamilie,”
and then _Moscheles’_ well-known variations on Alexander’s march.
The extraordinary execution of this young man is the astonishment
of everybody; but with him, as with all the young artists here whom
I have yet heard, it seems to me that his technical cultivation is
in advance of that of his mind; otherwise, in a company composed of
artists only, he would surely have given something different and more
intellectual than the break-neck tricks of art he exhibited. But it
is very singular, how all here, young and old, strive only to shine
by mechanical execution, and individuals in whom perhaps the germ of
something better lies, devote whole years and every energy to the
study and practice of one single piece of music, frequently of the
most worthless kind, in order to create a sensation with it before the
public. That the mind remains torpid under such circumstances and that
such people never become much better than musical automatons may be
readily imagined.
Hence one seldom or never hears in the musical réunions here an
earnest, well-digested piece of music, such as a quartet or quintet of
our great masters; every one produces his show-piece; you hear nothing
but _airs variés_, _rondos favoris_, _nocturnes_, and the like trifles,
and from the singers romances and little duets; and however incorrect
and insipid all this may be, it never fails to produce an effect,
if it is executed right smoothly and sweetly. Poor in such pretty
trifles, with my earnest German music I am ill at ease in such musical
parties, and feel frequently like a man who speaks to people who do
not understand his language; for when the praise of any such auditors
extends even sometimes from my play to the composition itself, I cannot
feel gratified by it, since immediately afterwards he bestows the same
admiration upon the most trifling things. One blushes to be praised by
such connoisseurs. It is just the same at the theatres: the masses, the
leaders of the fashion here, know not positively how to distinguish the
worst from the best; they hear “_Le Jugement de Midas_” with the same
rapture that they hear “_Les deux Journées_” or “_Joseph_.” It requires
no long residence here, to adopt the frequently expressed opinion, that
the French are not a musical nation.
The artists themselves here are of this opinion, and frequently reply,
when I speak of Germany in this respect: “Yes, music is loved and
understood there, but not here.” In this manner may be explained how
good music wedded to a wretched theatrical piece, falls to the ground,
and wretched music united to a good _pièce de théâtre_, may be highly
successful.
This has deprived me of all desire to write for any of the theatres
here, as I had previously much wished to do; for apart from the fact
that I should have to begin _de novo_, like a young composer--since,
with the exception of some of my violin pieces, they know little or
nothing of my compositions--and further that I should have to work my
way through a thousand cabals, which would rise up against me as a
foreigner with fearful violence before I could get my work performed,
so that at the end I should find, although I might have written good
music, its success would be uncertain, as that depends, as I have
said, almost wholly on the theatrical piece. This may be seen from the
notices in the journals here upon recent operas, in which whole columns
are devoted to a critique of the text, and the music is dismissed with
a passing notice of a few words only.
Were it not so lucrative to write for the theatres in Paris, there
would have been long since no good composer willing to do so. But from
the considerable gain which a successful opera brings in during one’s
whole life-time, new works are produced almost every day; authors and
composers turn their mind constantly to the creation of new effects,
but do not neglect at the same time, to ply the public for months
together in the journals, and provide the necessary number of paid
_claqueurs_ in the pit on the evening of the performance, in order to
ensure a brilliant reception for their work and thereby an ultimate
rich harvest from its frequent repetition. If only half as much were
to be gained by an opera in Germany, we should soon be equally rich in
good composers for the theatre as we now are in instrumental composers,
and we should have no further need to introduce foreign pieces upon our
stage, for the most part unworthy of the artistic culture of Germans.
After a residence of now three weeks it may be well imagined that we
have repeatedly visited all the theatres. I am the more pleased at this
as the circle of my acquaintance has become larger, and my engagements
both for the morning and evening have so much increased that for the
next fortnight we shall be able to devote but few evenings to the
theatre.
Of the _Théâtre français_, the Odéon, and the four lesser theatres, I
shall say nothing; as in a musical point of view they offer nothing
worthy of notice. In the two first they give nothing but _entr’actes_,
and in the four others almost nothing else but vaudevilles. That this
last kind of theatrical pieces, which, thanks to Apollo and the muses,
has hitherto been transplanted into no other country, is so much liked
here that four theatres give almost nothing else, is the most striking
proof that the French are not musical; for the sacred art cannot be
more abused anywhere than in these kind of songs, which are neither
sung nor spoken, but rattled out in intervals, and which are in most
striking anomaly with the melodies, and the accompanying harmony. All
Frenchmen of taste are agreed that the vaudeville, which formerly was
given in one theatre only, has by its increase deteriorated more and
more the taste for true music, and therefore had a prejudicial effect
upon art here. We have been to each of these theatres once, to hear
the celebrated comedians _Brunet_, _Pothier_ and _Perlet_, but are not
likely to go a second time, for the enjoyment one derives from the wit
and inexhaustible humour of those performers is too dearly purchased
by hearing such wretched music. I was particularly struck by the
skill with which the orchestra in those theatres follow the singers,
who do not in the least adhere to the time, or the notes. But this is,
also, their chief merit, for in other respects they are but middling
musicians.
We have been frequently to the Italian opera, and much enjoyed
ourselves there. Last evening we saw “Don Juan” there, at last, after
it had been frequently announced. The house was again, as upon the
previous performances, filled to overflowing, and hundreds of people
could find no room, even half an hour before the curtain drew up. I
was disposed to believe that the Parisians had at length understood
the classical beauty of this work, and that they flocked always in
greater numbers to enjoy it; but I soon relinquished that opinion when
I saw that the finest parts of the opera--the first duet, the quartet,
the grand septet, and several other things--passed off without making
any impression upon them, and two subjects only received a storm of
applause, which was given rather to the singers than to the composer.