duet between Don Juan and Zerline: “Reich mir die Hand mein Leben”
etc., and the air of Don Juan: “Treibt der Champagner” etc.; the
first, because Signor _Garcia_, not having depth of voice sufficient,
transposes it to B flat, and the last even a whole tone higher, to
_C_. Madame _Fodor-Mainville_, who well knew that the song-pieces
of Zerlina would please the Parisians more than all the rest of the
opera, chose very wisely that part, and the result shewed that she had
calculated rightly. What would she care, were the characters of the
opera wholly transposed, so long as she meets with a storm of applause.
The real connoisseur can only consent to this when he dismisses from
his mind that she personates the role of a peasant girl, and when he
wholly sets aside the true intention of the subject represented; for
she decorates the simple songs of her part with a number of high-flown
embellishments which, splendidly though she may execute them, are
here wholly out of place; first because they do not at all belong to
_Mozart’s_ music, and secondly, because they are wholly incompatible
with the character. With deduction of this, it certainly affords an
unusual enjoyment to hear this part, which in Germany is usually played
by a third-rate singer, impersonated by a first-rate one, and so
distinguished a vocalist. Signor _Garcia_, as Don Juan, uses also too
much ornamentation. Where this is only moderately admissable, he comes
out with a _fioritura_ a yard long; and these are most out of place in
the serenade, where the supposed mandoline accompaniment forbids the
most simple ornament. Nevertheless he gives full latitude in it to his
fancy, and in order to do this more conveniently, he takes the tempo
very slow. On the other hand, however, he sings his song incomparably
“Treibt der Champagner” etc., and I acknowledge that I never heard that
air so well sung. The pliability of the Italian tongue is of great use
to him in this, and instead of losing his breath in it, as is usual
with our German singers, his vocal power increases to the end.
The other parts are sung more or less well, but none of them badly, and
one must gratefully acknowledge that each does his best to do honour
to the work. One may also be very satisfied with the performance,
when one loses sight of the claims one is justified in making upon so
celebrated a combination of artists. But to a German it soon becomes
very evident that these singers, who execute Italian music only, and
that of _Rossini_ especially, in the highest perfection, cannot give
the music of _Mozart_ with the same excellence; the difference of style
is far too great. The effeminate, sweet execution which accords so well
with the former, obliterates too much the energetic character which
distinguishes Don Juan above all other of _Mozart’s_ operas.
The orchestra, which the Parisians always pronounce the first in the
world, made some mistakes. Twice for instance the wind instruments were
very obviously at fault, and they wavered several times so much, that
the conductor was obliged to beat the time for them. I became confirmed
but the more strongly in my opinion, that a theatrical orchestra,
however excellent it may be, on account of the great distance of the
extreme ends, should not be conducted otherwise than by a continual
beating of the time, and, that to mark the time constantly by motions
of the body, and the violin, like Mr. _Grasset_ does, is of no use. In
other respects this orchestra is justly famed for the discretion with
which it accompanies the singer, and in that might serve as a model for
the other Parisian as well as many German orchestras.
The choruses are also excellent, and the effect particularly powerful
and grand at the concluding allegro of the first finale. But why
here, as well as almost everywhere else, is this allegro taken so
unreasonably quick? Do then the conductors wholly forget, that by so
doing they decrease instead of increasing the power, and that the
triplet movement of the violins which must first give life and motion
to the whole, cannot be brought out clearly and forcibly in a movement
of such exaggerated rapidity, and instead of hearing the living whole,
it becomes a mere skeleton sketch without fillings in?!
When one hears so beautiful a piece of music lose its effect by
incorrectness of time, one wishes again that the marking of the tempi
was finally and universally established either on _Mälzel’s_ or
_Weber’s_ method, or still better upon both at the same time. But then
of course orchestral conductors must follow them conscientiously, and
not as now, follow their own fancy merely.
THIRD LETTER.
_Paris_, January 12. 1821.
With a mind greatly relieved, I write to announce to you, my dear
friend, that I have made my public début and with success. It is always
a hazardous undertaking for a foreign violinist to make a public
appearance in Paris, as the Parisians are possessed with the notion
that they have the finest violinists in the world, and consider it
almost in the light of arrogant presumption when a foreign considers
he has talent sufficient to challenge a comparison with them.
I may therefore well be a little proud of the brilliant reception I
met with the day before yesterday, and the more so that, with the
exception of a dozen persons, the auditory was personally unknown to
me, and there were none among them who had been admitted with free
tickets in purchase of their service as _claqueurs_. But I had prepared
myself very carefully for the occasion, and was properly supported by
the careful accompaniment of Mr. _Habeneck_. I was, however, not in
the least nervous, which is sometimes the case with me when I appear
for the first time in a strange country, and which occurred to me
the year before in London. The reason why I did not feel so in this
instance, was doubtless, that here I had already played before all
the most distinguished musicians, previous to my appearing in public;
but in London eight days only after our arrival, without having been
previously heard by any person, I was constrained to appear at the
philharmonic concert.
Before I enter into any details of the concert, I must first relate
how I came to give it. It is at all times a tedious business to make
arrangements for a concert in any town, but in Paris, which is so
extensive, where so many theatres are daily open, where there is so
much competition and so many obstacles to overcome, it is indeed a
Herculean task. I think also that this is the reason why so many
artists who come to Paris, decline giving a public concert, which,
besides being attended with the enormous expense of nearly 3000 francs,
is always an undertaking of great risk. If these matters have been
extremely unpleasant to me in other places, you may readily imagine how
I feared to attempt them here. In order to get over the difficulty, I
bethought myself of making a proposition to the directors of the grand
opera, to divide with me the expenses and the receipts of an evening
entertainment of which the first half should consist of a concert and
the second of a ballet. Contrary to the expectation of all those to
whom I had spoken on the subject, this proposition was acceded to.
The consent of the minister was however so long delayed, that the
concert could not be announced till three days before it took place,
and although the house was well filled, yet I ascribe to this delay
that it was not so crowded as I had expected so novel and, from
its novelty, so attractive an arrangement would have been for the
Parisians. The half which came to my share, after deduction of the
expenses, was therefore, as you may imagine, not very considerable: but
as I had not calculated upon making much pecuniary gain in Paris, I
do not regret this arrangement at all, as it saved me an immense deal
of trouble, and yet gave me an opportunity of making my appearance
in public. Of my own compositions I gave: the overture to “Alruna,”
the newest violin concerto, and the potpourri on the duet from “Don
Juan.” Between these a cavatine of _Rossini’s_ was sung by Mademoiselle
_Cinte_, and a duet, also of the same master, by Messrs. _Bordogni_
and _Levasseur_. At the rehearsal the overture was repeated three
times, and in the evening therefore, although it did not go off quite
so well as the last time at the rehearsal, the public nevertheless
could not refuse their applause of its execution. In the concerto, as
well as in the potpourri, some of the wind instruments failed twice,
from a negligence in observing the pauses, which seems somewhat usual
with the French, but fortunately it was not much disparaged by it.
The satisfaction of the audience was unmistakably expressed by loud
applause and cries of Bravo! To-day, however, the criticism of the
majority of the journals is not so favourable. I must solve this riddle
for you. Previous to every first appearance in public, whether of a
foreigner or a native, these gentlemen of the press are accustomed
to receive a visit from him, to solicit a favourable judgment, and
to present them most obsequiously with a few free admission tickets.
Foreign artists, to escape these unpleasant visits, sometimes forward
their solicitations in writing only, and the free admissions at the
same time; or, as is of frequent occurrence, induce some family to whom
they have brought letters of introduction, to invite the gentlemen of
the press to dinner, when a more convenient opportunity is offered to
give them to understand what is desirable to have said of them both
before and after the concert. This may perhaps occur now and then in
Germany; but I do not think, that newspaper critics can be anywhere so
venal as here. I have been told that the first artists of the _Théatre
français_, Mlle. _Mars_, and even _Talma_, pay annually considerable
sums to the journals, in order to keep those gentlemen constantly in
good humour, and that the latter, whenever they wish to extricate
themselves from any pecuniary embarrassment, find no method so sure
as to attack some esteemed artist until he submits to a tribute of
money. How the opinions of a press that are so purchasable, are at
all respected, I cannot understand. Suffice however to say, I did not
pay any of these supplicatory visits, for I considered them unworthy
of a German artist, and thought that the worst that could happen
would be, that the journalists would not take any notice at all of my
concert. But as these have each a free pass to every performance at
the grand opera, I found I was mistaken. They all speak of it; some
with unqualified praise, but the majority with a _But_, by which the
praise is more than sufficiently diminished. In all these notices,
however, French vanity speaks with the utmost self-assurance. They all
begin by extolling their own artists, and their artistic culture, above
all other nations; they think that the country that produced Messrs.
_Baillot_, _Lafont_ and _Habeneck_, need envy no other its violinists;
and whenever the play of a foreigner has been received here with
enthusiasm, it is nothing more than a proof of the great hospitality
which the French in particular shew towards foreigners. Apart from
this vanity the notices are very contradictory: The “Quotidienne”
says, for instance: “Mr. _Spohr_ aborde, avec une incroyable audace,
les plus grandes difficultés, et l’on ne sait ce qui étonne le plus,
ou son audace ou la sureté avec laquelle il exécute ces difficultés.”
In the “Journal des Débats,” on the other hand: “Le concert exécuté
par Mr. _Spohr_ n’est point surchargé de difficultés,” etc. These
gentlemen differ also in opinion respecting the merits or demerits
of my compositions. The majority think them good, but without saying
why; but “Le Courier des Spectacles,” which altogether speaks most
disparagingly of me, says: “C’est une espèce de pacotille d’harmonie
et d’enharmonie germaniques que Mr. _Spohr_ apporte, en contrebande,
de je ne sais quelle contrée d’Allemagne.” But _Rossini_ is his man,
of whom he says further on: “Cet Orphée moderne a défrayé de chant le
concert de Mr. _Spohr_, et il lui suffit pour cela de prêter une petite
aria et un petit duo bouffo.” But as a violinist I found more grace
in his eyes; he says for instance: “Mr. _Spohr_ comme exécutant est
un homme de mérite; il a deux qualités rares et précieuses, la pureté
et la justesse,” but then winds up his phrase like a true Frenchman:
“s’il reste quelque temps à Paris, il pourra perfectionner son goût et
retourner ensuite former celui des bons Allemands.” If the good man
only knew what the “bons Allemands” think of the musical taste of the
French?!
This ridiculous vanity in the Parisians is shewn also in their
conversation. When one or other of their musicians plays anything,
they immediately ask: “Well, can you boast of anything like that in
Germany?” Or when they introduce to you one of their distinguished
artists, they do not call him the first in Paris, but at once the
first in the world, although no nation knows less what other countries
possess, than they do, in their--for their vanity’s sake most
fortunate--ignorance.
You are doubtless astonished that I have as yet said nothing of the
music of the royal chapel; but I delayed doing so intentionally,
until I had first heard some of _Cherubini’s_ masses. _Lesueur_ and
_Cherubini_, the two directors of the music of the royal chapel,
assume the duties of their office every three months alternately; our
arrival took place during the time of _Lesueur’s_ directorship, and
_Cherubini’s_ did not begin till the first of January. But the musical
directors of the royal chapel do not conduct the music themselves, and
preside only in their court uniform at the head of the vocal personnel,
without taking any active part in the performance. The director _de
facto_ is _Plantade_; _Kreutzer_ leading player of the first violin,
and _Baillot_ of the second. The orchestra is composed of the first
artists in Paris, the chorus is powerful and good. Every mass is
rehearsed once or twice, and under _Plantade’s_ sure and spirited
direction, every thing goes exceedingly well.
Although previously prepared by Mr. _Sievers’_ account, I was very far
from expecting to hear music here of the style we call church-music
in Germany; yet I was greatly taken by surprise by the brilliant
theatrical style of a mass by _Plantade_, which I heard on my first
visit to the chapel on the 17th of last month. There is not the least
trace of the ecclesiastical style, not a vestige of the canonical
management of the voices, and still less of a fugue. But apart from
this, there were very pretty ideas, and much good instrumentation,
which would be quite in place in a comic opera. The concluding allegro,
probably upon the words: _Dona nobis pacem_ (for I am not certain,
since the French pronounce Latin in a manner very unintelligible to a
German ear) was so completely in the style of the finale to an opera
(like those usually with three or four times increased tempo) that
at the end, forgetting completely where I was, I expected to see the
curtain fall, and to hear the public applaud.
At midnight, on the 24th December, we heard a so-called “_Messe de
minuit_” of _Lesueur’s_ composition. First of all we were obliged to
endure a great trial of our patience, in which during two somewhat
tedious hours, from ten to twelve o’clock, we heard nothing but
psalms, sung off in the most monotonous manner, and interrupted at
intervals with barbarous peals of organ-play. At length, at midnight,
the mass began. Again the same frivolous theatrical style as in that
of _Plantade_, but which at the solemn midnight hour was still more
insufferable. But what most surprised me, particularly from _Lesueur_,
who is reputed here a first-rate harmonist, and was educated, if I am
not mistaken, for a teacher of harmony at the _Conservatoire_, there
was not even a four-part management of the voices! Though at times
it may be effective in an opera, when writing only a two-part vocal
distribution, to let the soprani go in octaves with the tenors, and
the alti with the bass, partly with a view to facilitate the execution
of the generally bad theatrical choruses, and partly to obtain by
that means more material power; yet to me it seems quite barbarous to
introduce this in the church, and I should therefore like to know what
Mr. _Lesueur_, who must certainly be an artist of reflective powers,
means by it. In the place of the offertory, variations by _Nadermann_
for the harp, horn and violoncello were thrust in, executed by the
composer and Mrs. _Dauprat_ and _Baudiot_. You who know, that in
Germany a serious symphony even appeared to me too mundane at this
part, may therefore readily imagine what an unpleasant impression
these frivolous, French variations on the harp must have made upon me
in a mass at midnight; and yet I saw the people present in earnest
prayer. How is it possible for them to feel a religious sentiment with
such trivial music! This must be either a matter of no importance to
them, or they know how to close their ears effectually; otherwise,
like myself, they would of a certainty be reminded of the ballet at
the grand opera, in which those three instruments are heard in a like
manner in the most voluptuous dances. Although the harp in ancient
times was the favorite instrument of a pious king, it should for all
that be banished from the church, because it is wholly unfit for the
severe style which is the only one suitable for that edifice.
But will you believe it, when I assure you that even the worthy master
_Cherubini_ himself, has allowed himself to be led away by this bad
example, and his masses exhibit in many places a theatrical style.
It is true that he makes amends for it in those places with superior
music, full of effect; but who can enjoy it, if he cannot wholly
forget the place in which he hears it?
It would he less regrettable that _Cherubini_ also should deviate
from the true ecclesiastical style, if in some individual parts he
did not shew in what a dignified manner he can move in it. Several
separate subjects in his masses--particularly the scientifically
conducted fugues, and above all his _Pater noster_ up to the profane
conclusion--afford the grandest proofs of this. But when one has once
overcome the inclination to feel annoyed at this frequent, extremely
digressive style, one feels then the highest enjoyment of art. By
richness of invention, well-chosen, and frequently quite novel
sequences of harmony, and a sagacious use of the material resources of
art, directed by the experience of many years, he knows how to produce
such powerful effects, that, carried away by them in spite of oneself,
one soon forgets all pedantic cavil to give oneself wholly up to one’s
feelings, and to enjoyment. What would not this man have contributed
to art, if instead of writing for Frenchmen, he had always written for
Germans!--
FOURTH LETTER.
_Paris_, January 30. 1821.
The two months which I had allotted to our stay in Paris are drawing to
a close. As I do not know whether circumstances may even permit us to
come here again, we are exerting ourselves to find all the remarkable
things we have not yet seen, and make daily excursions in Paris and
into its environs. In order to devote my time wholly to this, I have
given up the idea I had conceived of giving another soirée before
our departure, and for which I had already made some arrangements.
The fortnight which I should have been obliged to devote solely to
that object, I can now therefore pass more pleasantly, and in greater
freedom. I gave up with much more repugnance my project to give a
second public concert, since, from the reception given to the first,
I had good ground to expect a successful result. But during this month
there was not a day to be found favorable for such a purpose; for on
a week day the administration will not give up the theatre, as there
is either a grand or an Italian opera, and of the three yet remaining
Sundays, the first was too near, the second, as the anniversary of the
death of Louis XVI., not to be had, and the third, already pre-engaged
by Mr. _Lafont_ for a concert. To extend our stay over the middle of
next month, we have no desire, for we are heartily tired of the noisy
life and ceaseless night-disturbance here, and ardently long for a
quiet place of residence.
On the other hand I have latterly played more frequently at private
parties, and seen with pleasure that my compositions, upon every
repetition, have been received with greater enthusiasm, especially by
musicians. This has been particularly the case with a new quintet for
pianoforte, flute, clarinet, horn and bassoon, which I have written
for my wife, and in which, since by the advice of the physician, she
has abandoned the harp, she has appeared several times. The chief
object of my coming here, to make myself personally known to the most
distinguished artists here, and to become more nearly acquainted with
them, I have thus fully effected; and I cannot speak sufficiently in
praise of the sympathy and kindness which the greater part of them have
evinced towards me. They repeatedly endeavoured to persuade me to make
a longer stay, and should I feel disposed to give a second concert,
they would not only take all the trouble of the arrangements for it off
my hands, but promised to get together for me the best orchestra in
Paris, without the cost to me of a single sou. Although I am not likely
to avail myself of this offer, yet it was very gratifying to me.
Another no less important object of my coming here has also been
achieved; I have had opportunities of hearing the most celebrated
violinists of, and at present in Paris. _Baillot_ gave a soirée at his
house for me, at my request; I heard _Lafont_ at his own concert; and
the younger _Kreutzer_ and _Habeneck_ at morning concerts which were
arranged expressly for the purpose. Should you wish to know which of
these four Violinists has best pleased me, then without hesitation, in
point of execution, I say, _Lafont_. In his play he combines beauty
of tone, the greatest purity, power, and grace; and he would be a
perfect violinist, if, with these qualifications, he possessed depth
of feeling, and had not accustomed himself to the habit peculiar to
the French school, of laying too much stress upon the last note of
a phrase. But feeling, without which a man can neither conceive nor
execute a good adagio, appears with him, as with almost all Frenchmen,
to be wholly wanting; for although he dresses up his slow movements
with many elegant and pretty ornaments, yet he still remains somewhat
cold. The adagio appears altogether to be considered here, both by
artists and the public, as the least important part of a concerto, and
is only retained perhaps because it separates both the quick subjects
and increases their effect.
To this indifference for it--as indeed the general insensibility of the
French for everything that works upon the feelings--I ascribe also,
that my adagio and the manner in which I played, made less impression
here than the brilliant allegro subjects. Accustomed to the special
applause which my manner of playing it had received from Germans,
Italians, Dutch, and English, I at first felt hurt to see it thought
so little of by the French. But since I have observed how seldom their
artists give them an earnest adagio, and how little their taste for it
is awakened, I became pacified on that subject. The practice of giving
emphasis to the last note of a period, by an increased pressure and a
rapid upward stroke of the bow, even when that note falls on a part
where the time is bad, is more or less common to all French violinists,
but with none so prominent as _Lafont_. To me it is incomprehensible
how this unnatural accentuation has arisen, which sounds exactly as
though a speaker endeavoured to intonate the short final syllable of
a word with particular force. If when executing a musical piece the
cantabile of the human voice had always been kept in view as model
(which in my opinion should be done by every instrumentalist) such
errors would never have become confirmed habits. But the Parisians are
so accustomed to this unnatural custom, that a foreigner who does not
play in the same bizzarre manner, appears to them much too plain, or,
as Mr. _Sievers_ expresses it, “much too straightforward.”
That _Lafont’s_ excellence restricts itself always to but a few pieces
at once, and that he practises the same concerto by the year together
before he plays it in public, is well known. Since I have heard the
perfect execution which he attains by this means, I certainly will not
cavil with this application of all his powers to the one object; but
I could not imitate him, and cannot even understand how one can bring
one’s-self to practise the same piece of music for four or five hours
daily, but still less how it is to be done without eventually losing
every vestige of real art, in such a mechanical mode of proceeding.