In the autumn of 1816 Moscheles bade a sorrowful adieu to the imperial
city, where he had spent so many happy years, to undertake an extended
concert tour, armed with letters of introduction to all the courts of
Europe from Prince Lichtenstein, Countess Hardigg, and other influential
admirers. He proceeded directly to Leipzig, where he was warmly received
by the musical fraternity of that city, especially by the Wiecks, of
whose daughter Clara he speaks in highly eulogistic words. He played his
own compositions, which already began to show that serene and finished
beauty so characteristic of his after-writings. À similar success
greeted him at Dresden, where, among other concerts, he gave one before
the court. Of this entertainment Moscheles writes: "The court actually
dined (this barbarous custom still prevails), and the royal household
listened in the galleries, while I and the court band made music to
them, and barbarous it really was; but, in regard to truth, I must add
that royalty and also the lackeys kept as quiet as possible, and the
former congratulated me, and actually condescended to admit me to
friendly conversation." He continued his concerts in Munich, Augsburg,
Amsterdam, Brussels, and other cities, creating the most genuine
admiration wherever he went, and finally reached Paris in December,
1817.
Here our young artist was promptly received in the extraordinary world
of musicians, artists, authors, wits, and social celebrities which then,
as now, made Paris so delightful for those possessing the countersign of
admission. Baillot, the violinist, gave a private concert in his honor,
in which he in company with Spohr played before an audience made up of
such artists and celebrities as Cherubini, Auber, Herold, Adam, Lesueur,
Pacini, Paer, Habeneck, Plantade, Blangini, La-font, Pleyel, Ivan
Muller, Viotti, Pellegrini, Boïeldieu, Schlesinger, Manuel Garcia, and
others. These areopagites of music set the mighty seal of their approval
on Moscheles's genius. He was invited everywhere, to dinners, balls, and
_fêtes_, and there was no _salon_ in Paris so high and exclusive which
did not feel itself honored by his presence. His public concerts were
thronged with the best and most critical audiences, and he by no means
shone the less that he appeared in conjunction with other distinguished
artists. He often entertained parties of jovial artists at his lodgings,
and music, punch, and supper enlivened the night till 3 A.M. Whoever
could play or sing was present, and good music alternated with amusing
tricks played on the respective instruments. "Altogether," he writes,
"it is a happy, merry time! Certainly, at the last state dinner of
the Rothschilds, in the presence of such notabilities as Canning
or Narischkin, I was obliged to keep rather in the background. The
invitation to a large, brilliant, but ceremonious ball appears a very
questionable way of showing me attention. The drive up, the endless
queue of carriages, wearied me, and at last I got out and walked.
There, too, I found little pleasure." On the other hand, he praises the
performance of Gluck's opera at the house of the Erards. The "concerts
spirituels" delight him. "Who would not," he says, "envy me this
enjoyment? These concerts justly enjoy a world-wide celebrity. There I
listen with the most solemn earnestness." On the other hand, there are
cheerful episodes, and jovial dinners with Carl Blum and Schlesinger, at
the Restaurant Lemelle. "Yesterday," he writes, "Schlesinger quizzed me
about my slowness in eating, and went so far as to make the stupid bet
with me, that he would demolish three dozen oysters while I ate one
dozen, and he was quite right. On perceiving, however, that he was on
the point of winning, I took to making faces, made him laugh so heartily
that he couldn't go on eating; thus I won my bet." We find the
following notice on the 20th of March: "I spent the evening at Ciceri's,
son-in-law of Isabey, the famous painter, where I was introduced to
one of the most interesting circles of artists. In the first room were
assembled the most famous painters, engaged in drawing several things
for their own amusement. In the midst of these was Cherubini, also
drawing. I had the honor, like every one newly introduced, of having
my portrait taken in caricature. Bégasse took me in hand, and succeeded
well. In an adjoining room were musicians and actors, among them
Ponchard, Le-vasseur, Dugazon, Panseron, Mlle, de Munck, and Mme.
Livère, of the Théâtre Français. The most interesting of their
performances, which I attended merely as a listener, was a vocal quartet
by Cherubini, performed under his direction. Later in the evening, the
whole party armed itself with larger or smaller 'mirlitons' (reed-pipe
whistles), and on these small monotonous instruments, sometimes made
of sugar, they played, after the fashion of Russian horn music, the
overture to 'Demophon,' two frying-pans representing the drums." On the
27th of March this "mirliton" concert was repeated at Ciceri's, and on
this occasion Cherubini took an active part. Moscheles relates: "Horace
Vernet entertained us with his ventriloquizing powers, M. Salmon with
his imitation of a horn, and Dugazon actually with a 'mirliton' solo.
Lafont and I represented the classical music, which, after all, held,
its own." It was hard to tear himself from these gayeties; but he
had not visited London, and he was anxious to make himself known at a
musical capital inferior to none in Europe. He little thought that in
London he was destined to find his second home. He plunged into the
gayeties and enjoyments of the English capital with no less zest than he
had already experienced in Paris. He found such great players as J. B.
Cramer, Ferdinand Ries, Kalkbrenner, and Clementi in the field; but
our young artist did not altogether lose by comparison. Among other
distinguished musicians, Moscheles also met Kiesewetter, the violinist,
the great singers Mara and Catalani, and Dragonetti, the greatest of
double-bass players. Dragonetti was a most eccentric man, and of him
Moscheles says: "In his _salon_ in Liecester Square he has collected
a large number of various kinds of dolls, among them a negress. When
visitors are announced, he politely receives them, and says that this
or that young lady will make room for them; he also asks his intimate
acquaintances whether his favorite dolls look better or worse since
their last visit, and similar absurdities. He is a terrible snuff-taker,
helping himself out of a gigantic snuff-box, and he has an immense and
varied collection of snuff-boxes. The most curious part of him is his
language, a regular jargon, in which there is a mixture of his native
Bergamese, bad French, and still worse English."
During the several months of this first English visit Moscheles made
many acquaintances which were destined to ripen into solid friendships,
and gave many concerts in which the most distinguished artists, vocal
and instrumental, participated. Altogether, he appears to have been
delighted with the London art and social world little less than he had
been with that of Paris. He returned, however, to the latter city in
August, and again became a prominent figure in the most fashionable and
admired concerts. During this visit to Paris he writes in his diary:
"Young Erard took me to-day to his piano-forte factory to try the new
invention of his uncle Sebastian. This quicker action of the hammer
seems to me so important that I prophesy a new era in the manufacture
of piano-fortes. I still complain of some heaviness in the touch, and,
therefore, prefer to play on Pape's and Petzold's instruments (Viennese
pianos). I admired the Erards, but am not thoroughly satisfied, and
urged him to make new improvements."
From 1815, when Moscheles began his career as a virtuoso in the
production of his "Variationen fiber den Alexandermarsch," to 1826,
he established a great reputation as a virtuoso and composer for the
piano-forte. Though he played his own works at concerts with marked
approbation, he also became distinguished as an interpreter of Mozart
and Beethoven, for whom he had a reverential admiration. Moscheles often
records his own sense of insignificance by the side of these Titans
of music. A delightful characteristic of the man was his modesty about
himself, and his genial appreciation of other musicians. Nowhere do
those performers who, for example, came in active rivalry with himself,
receive more cordial and unalloyed praise. Moscheles was entirely devoid
of that littleness which finds vent in envy and jealousy, and was as
frank and sympathetic in his estimate of others as he was ambitious and
industrious in the development of his own great talents. In 1824 he gave
piano-forte lessons to Felix Mendelssohn, then a youth of fifteen, at
Berlin. He wrote of the Mendelssohn family: "This is a family the like
of which I have never known. Felix, a boy of fifteen, is a phenomenon.
What are all prodigies as compared with him? Gifted children, but
nothing else. This Felix Mendelssohn is already a mature artist, and
yet but fifteen years old! We at once settled down together for several
hours, for I was obliged to play a great deal, when really I wanted to
hear him and see his compositions, for Felix had to show me a concerto
in C minor, a double concerto, and several motets; and all so full of
genius, and at the same time so correct and thorough! His elder sister
Fanny, also extraordinarily gifted, played by heart, and with admirable
precision, fugues and passacailles by Bach. I think one may well call
her a thorough 'Mus. Doc' (guter Musiker). Both parents give one the
impression of being people of the highest refinement. They are far from
overrating their children's talents; in fact, they are anxious about
Felix's future, and to know whether his gift will prove sufficient to
lead to a noble and truly great career. Will he not, like so many other
brilliant children, suddenly collapse? I asserted my conscientious
conviction that Felix would ultimately become a great master, that I
had not the slightest doubt of his genius; but again and again I had
to insist on my opinion before they believed me. These two are not
specimens of the genus prodigy-parents (Wunderkinds Eltern), such as I
most frequently endure." Moscheles soon came to the conclusion that to
give Felix regular lessons was useless. Only a little hint from time
to time was necessary for the marvelous youth, who had already begun to
compose works which excited Moscheles's deepest admiration.