our town--we have neither money nor public. (I thought of Mainz and
father Schott)! But since you are here we certainly cannot let you go
without hearing some of your works, about which we are very curious.
So you must take the _Redoute_ and as far as players are concerned, if
you will only give about eighty francs to their pension fund, they will
think it an honour to rehearse and to perform under your baton. Come
to-night and hear _Freyschütz_ and I will introduce you and you will
see that I am right.”
He was as good as his word and all my fears melted away. Here was a
young, fiery, enthusiastic orchestra. I saw that from the way they
played Weber.
They were intrepid readers, too, nothing upset, nothing disconcerted
them, they never missed a single sign of expression either. I had
chosen the _Symphonie Fantastique_ and _Francs-Juges_ and trembled for
my syncopations, my four notes against three, my unusual rhythms; but
they plunged straight in without a single mistake.
I was astounded, for with two rehearsals the whole thing was done.
It would have been grand had not illness on the day of the concert
taken away half my violins and left me with four firsts and four
seconds to fight that mass of wind and percussion. It was the more
harrowing, in that the King and Court were there in full force;
still it was intelligent and sympathetic, and the audience applauded
everything warmly except the _Pilgrim’s March_ from _Harold_, which
fell flat. I found it do so again when I separated it from the rest
of the symphony, which shows what a mistake it is to divide up some
compositions.
After the concert I was congratulated by the King, by Prince Jerome
Bonaparte and by Count Niepperg, but I am afraid Lindpaintner, whose
approval was more to me than all, hated everything but the overture. I
am sure Dr Schilling found it hideous and was quite ashamed of having
introduced such a musical free-lance to his quiet town.
However, being Councillor of State to the Prince of
Hohenzollern-Hechingen, he wrote and told His Highness of the savage he
had in tow, thinking that the said savage would find a more appropriate
setting in the wilds of the Black Forest than in civilised Stuttgart.
The savage therefore--receiving a cordial invitation from the Prince’s
Privy Councillor, Baron de Billing--and being avid of new sensations,
took his way through the snow and the great pine woods to the little
town of Hechingen, without in the least troubling about what he should
do when he got there.
I never recall this Black Forest journey without a medley of pleasant,
sad, sweet and troubled remembrances that strangely stir my heart.
The double mourning--white of the snow and black of the trees--spread
over the mountains; the cold wind’s dreary moan among the shivering,
restless pines; the ceaseless gnawing of sorrow at my heart, grown
stronger in this solitude, the bitter cold, then the arrival at
Hechingen, bright faces, gracious prince, _fêtes_, concerts, laughter,
promises to meet in Paris, then--good-bye--and once more the darkness
and the cold!
Ah! what do I suffer even yet! What demon started me thinking of it?
But that is my way--without apparent cause, I am tormented, possessed,
just as in certain electric states of the air the leaves rustle without
wind.
But back to Hechingen. The ruler of this minute principality was an
intellectual young man who seemed to have but two objects in life--to
make his people happy and to worship music.
Can one imagine a more perfect existence?
His subjects adored him and music loved him, for he understood her both
as poet and musician, and had composed some touching songs.
He had a tiny orchestra, conducted by Täglichsbeck, whom I had met five
years earlier in Paris, and who received me with open-hearted kindness.
It was most amusing to see me adapting my big orchestral works to this
little band, but, by dint of patience and goodwill all round, we did
wonders and gave _King Lear_, the _Pilgrims’ March_, the _Ball Scene_,
and other excerpts in really good style.
Still, of course, I could not help longing for wider scope, and when
the Prince came to compliment me, I said:
“Ah! I would give two years of my life if Your Highness could hear that
with my Conservatoire orchestra.”
“Yes! yes!” he said. “I know that you have an imperial orchestra that
calls you ‘Sire,’ while I am but a Highness. I mean to go to Paris and
hear it one day--one day.”
After the concert we supped at his villa, and his charming brightness
infected us all. Wishing me to hear a trio he had composed for piano,
tenor, and ’cello, Täglichsbeck took the piano, the Prince the air, and
I, amid laughter and applause, tried to sing the ’cello part. My high A
simply brought down the house.
Two days later I returned to Stuttgart.
The snow was melting on the mourning pines, stained was the fair white
mantle of the mountains--all was dreary and woe-worn--again at my heart
gnawed the worm that dieth not----
The rest is silence.
_To_ FRANZ LISZT.
“You, my dear Liszt, know nothing of the uncertainties of the
wandering musician. You never have a moment’s anxiety as to
whether, when you get to a town, there will be a decent orchestra
or a theatre ready for you. To parody Louis XIV. you can say:
“‘Orchestra, chorus, conductor are
myself.’
“A grand piano and a large hall are the extent of your needs. But
a poor travelling composer like myself depends upon a combination
most difficult to arrange and at any moment liable to be upset. How
much thought, precaution, fatigue it all requires. Yet look at the
reward!
“Think of the compensation of _playing on an orchestra_, of having
under one’s hand this vast living instrument!
“You _virtuosi_ are princes and kings by the grace of God, you
are born on the steps of the throne; we composers must fight
and conquer before we reign. Yet the difficulties and dangers
surmounted add brilliance to our victories, and we should perhaps
be happier than you--if we always had soldiers.
“But this is a digression.
“At Stuttgart I waited, hardly knowing what plans to make, until a
favourable answer came to my letter of enquiry addressed to Weimar.
Meanwhile I had another experience of the coldness of Germans
towards Beethoven.
“Lindpaintner conducted a magnificent performance of the Leonore
overture at the Redoute Society’s concert, which elicited but the
faintest applause, and I heard a gentleman say afterwards that he
wished they would give Haydn’s symphonies instead of that noisy
music without any tune in it!!!
“Really now, we do not own such Philistines as that in Paris!
“I went to Weimar _via_ Carlsruhe (where there was nothing to be
done) and Mannheim--a cold, calm, respectable town, where love of
music will never keep the inhabitants awake.
“The younger Lachner, a real artist, both modest and talented, is
director there; he hurriedly arranged a concert for me, and was
deeply grieved because the ineptitude of his trombones forbade our
giving the _Orgie_ in _Harold_.
“Mannheim bored me horribly, and it was an intense relief to get
away and breathe freely once more.
“Behold me then again afloat on the Rhine--I meet Guhr, still
swearing--I leave him--meet our friend Hiller, who tells me
his _Fall of Jerusalem_ is ready--I leave, in company with a
magnificent sore throat--sleep on the way--dream frightful things
that I will not repeat--reach Weimar, thoroughly ill--Lobe and
Chélard try in vain to prop me up--preparations for concert--first
rehearsal--I rejoice and am cured.
“There is something broad, cultivated, liberal about the very air
of Weimar. Calm, luminous, peaceful, dreamy--how my heart beat as I
paced the streets!
“Here is the summer-house of Goethe where the late Grand Duke
used to come to take part in the discussions of Schiller, Herder,
and Wieland. There, a Latin inscription traced by the author
of _Faust_. Those two attic windows, are they indeed those of
Schiller? Was it this humble roof that sheltered the mighty
enthusiasm of the author of _Don Carlos_? Was it right of Goethe,
the rich and powerful minister, thus to leave his friend in
poverty? I fear me that it was true friendship on the side of
Schiller only--Goethe loved himself too well, he lived too long and
death was to him a terror.
“Schiller! Schiller! you deserved a less human friend!
“It is one in the morning, with bitter cold and a brilliant moon. I
stand entranced before that small dark house; all is silent in this
city of the dead.
“Within me surges up that passion of respect, regret, and love for
the genius that stretches out a hand from beyond the cold dark
grave, and lays a mighty finger on us poor obscure earth wanderers,
and upon that humble threshold I kneel, murmuring brokenly,
‘Schiller! Schiller!’
“But I am no nearer the subject of my letter, dear friend; to
soothe myself I must think of another dweller in Weimar, the
talented but cold Hummel.
“That calms me; I feel better!
“Chélard, as Frenchman, artist, and friend, has done everything
possible to help me, and the Baron von Spiegel, the superintendent,
has most kindly offered me the theatre and orchestra. He did not
add the chorus, which was just as well, for I heard them trying
to do Marschner’s _Vampire_, and a more ghastly collection of
squallers I never heard.
“Of the women soloists, too, the less said the better.
“But are there words to describe the bass--Génast? Is he not a true
artist, a born tragedian? I wish I could have stayed long enough to
hear him in Shakespeare’s _King Lear_, which they were mounting.
“The orchestra is good, but, to do me special honour, Chélard and
Lobe hunted up every available extra instrument in the place; there
was no harp to be found, but a good pianist and perfect musician,
named Montag, kindly arranged my harp parts and played them on the
piano.
“Everyone was eagerly ready to help, and you may imagine the
rare and extreme joy of being promptly understood and followed.
I will spare you a description of the applause and recalls, the
compliments of their Highnesses, and the many new friends who,
waiting at the stage door, bore me off and kept me till three
o’clock next morning.
“Where, oh where is my modesty that I retail all this? Adieu!”
XXVII
MENDELSSOHN--WAGNER
_To_ STEPHEN HELLER.
“On leaving Weimar, my dear Heller, my easiest plan seemed to be
to go to Leipzig, but I hesitated because Felix Mendelssohn was
musical dictator there, and, in spite of our Roman days together,
we had since followed such divergent lines that I could not be
sure of a sympathetic reception. Chélard, however, made me ashamed
of my misgivings. I wrote, and Mendelssohn replied so warmly and
promptly, bidding me welcome to Leipzig, that I could not resist
such an invitation, but set off at once, regretfully leaving Weimar
and my new friends.
“My relations with Mendelssohn in Rome had been rather curious.
At our first meeting I had expressed a great dislike to the first
allegro in my _Sardanapalus_.
“‘Do you really dislike it?’ he said,
eagerly. ‘I am so glad. I was afraid you were pleased with it, and
I think it simply horrid.’
“Then we nearly quarrelled next day because I spoke
enthusiastically of Gluck. He said disdainfully:
“‘Do you like Gluck?’ as much as to
say, ‘How can a music-maker like you appreciate the majesty of
Gluck?’
“I took my revenge a few days after by putting on Montfort’s piano
a manuscript copy of an air from _Telemaco_ without the author’s
name to it. Mendelssohn came, picked it up thinking it was a bit
of Italian opera, and began parodying it. I stopped him in assumed
astonishment, saying:
“‘Hallo, don’t you like Gluck?’<span
class="lftspc">”</span>
“‘Gluck?’”
“‘Why yes, my dear fellow. That is
Gluck, not Bellini as you seem to think. You see I know him
better than you do, and am more of your own opinion than you are
yourself.’”
“One day, speaking of the uses of the metronome, he broke in--
“‘What’s the good of one? A musician
who can’t guess the time of a piece of music at sight is a
duffer.’”
“I might have replied, but did not, that there were lots of
duffers. Soon after he asked to see my _King Lear_. He read it
through slowly, then, just as he was going to play it (his talent
for score-reading was incomparable), said:
“‘Give me the time.’
“‘What for? You said yesterday that
only duffers needed to be told the time of a piece.’
“He did not show it, but these home thrusts annoyed him intensely.
He never mentioned Bach without adding ironically, ‘_your little
pupil_.’ In fact, over music he was a regular porcupine; you could
never tell where to have him. In every other way he was perfectly
charming and sweet-tempered.
“In Rome I learnt to appreciate the beauties of his marvellous
_Fingal’s Cave_. Often, worn out by the scirocco and thoroughly
out of sorts, I would hunt him out and tear him away from his
composition. With perfect good humour--seeing my pitiable state--he
would lay aside his pen, and, with his extraordinary facility
in remembering intricate scores, would play whatever I chose to
name--he properly and soberly seated at the piano, I curled up in
a snappy bunch on his sofa.
“He liked me, with my wearied voice, to murmur out my setting of
Moore’s melodies. He always had a certain amount of commendation
for my--little songs!
“After a month of this intercourse--so full of interest for me--he
disappeared without saying good-bye, and I saw him no more.
“His Leipzig letter, therefore, the more agreeably surprised me,
for it showed an unexpected and genial kindness of heart that I
found to be one of his most notable characteristics.
“The Concert Society has a magnificent hall--the Gewandhaus--of
which the acoustic is perfect. I went straight to see it, and
stumbled into the middle of the final rehearsal of Mendelssohn’s
_Walpurgis Nacht_.
“I am inclined to think[18] that this is the finest thing he has
yet done, and I hardly know which to praise most--orchestra,
chorus, or the whole combined effect.
“As Mendelssohn came down from his desk, radiant with success, I
went to meet him. It was the right moment for our greetings, yet,
after the first words, the same thought struck us both--‘Twelve
years since we wandered day-dreaming in the Campagna!’
“‘Are you still a jester?’ he asked.
“‘Ah no! my joking days are past. To
show you how sober and in earnest I am, I hereby solemnly beg a
priceless gift of you.’
“‘That is----’
“‘The baton with which you conduct your
new work.’
“‘By all means, if I may have yours
instead?’
“‘It will be copper for gold, still you
shall have it.
“Next day came Mendelssohn’s musical sceptre, for which I returned
my heavy oak cudgel with the following note, which I hope would not
have disgraced the Last of the Mohicans:--
“‘Great Chief! To exchange our
tomahawks is our word given. Common is mine, plain is yours. Squaws
and Pale-faces alone love ornament. May we be brethren, so that,
when the Great Spirit calls us to the happy hunting grounds, our
warriors may hang our tomahawks side by side in the door-way of the
Long House.’”
_To_ JOSEPH D’ORTIGUE.
“_28th February 1843._--My trade of galley-slave is my excuse for
not having written sooner. I have been, and am still, ill with
fatigue, the work involved in conducting rehearsals in both Leipzig
and Dresden is incredible.
“Mendelssohn is most kind, friendly, and attentive--a master of the
highest rank. I can honestly say this in spite of his admiration
for my _songs_--of my symphonies, overtures, and _Requiem_ he says
never a word!
“His _Walpurgis Nacht_ is one of the finest orchestral poems
imaginable.
“Can you believe that Schumann, the taciturn, was so electrified by
my _Offertorium_ that he actually opened his mouth, and, shaking my
hand, said:
“This _Offertorium_ surpasses all.’”
_To_ HELLER.
“It really pains me to see a great master like Mendelssohn worried
with the paltry task of chorus-master. I never cease marvelling at
his patience and politeness. His every remark is calm and pleasant,
and his attitude is the more appreciated by those who, like myself,
know how rare such patience is.
“I have often been accused of rudeness to the ladies of the Opera
chorus--a reputation which I own I richly deserve--but the very
minute there is question of a choral rehearsal a sort of dull
anger takes possession of me, my throat closes up, and I glare at
the singers very much like that Gascon who kicked an inoffensive
small boy, and, when reproached because the child had done nothing,
replied:
“‘But just think if he _had_!’
“A charming little incident concluded my Leipzig visit. I had again
been ill, and, on leaving, asked my doctor for his account. ‘Write
me the theme of your _Offertorium_,’ he said, ‘and sign it, and I
shall be your debtor.’
“I hesitated, but finally did as he wished, and then, will you
believe that I missed the chance of a charming compliment? I wrote:
‘To Dr Clarus.’
“‘Oh,’ said he, ‘you have added an _l_
to my name.’
“I thought:
“‘Patientibus _Carus_, sed inter doctes
_Clarus_,’ and had not the sense to say it!
“There are times when I am really quite idiotic.
“Now for your questions. You ask me to tell you--
“Is there a rival to Madame Schumann as a pianist? I believe not.
“Is the musical tendency of Leipzig sound? I will not.
“Is it true that the confession of faith here is ‘there is no God
but Bach, and Mendelssohn is his prophet?’ I ought not.
“If the public is at fault in being contented with Lortzing’s
little operas? I cannot.
“If I have heard any of those old five-part Masses they think so
much of here? I know not.
“Good-bye. Write more of your lovely capriccios, and the Lord
preserve you from Choral Fugues!”
_To_ ERNST.
“And now about Dresden. I was engaged to give two concerts there,
and found chorus, orchestra, and a noble tenor all complete!
Nowhere else in Germany have I happened on such wealth. Above all,
I found a friend--devoted, energetic, and enthusiastic--Charles
Lipinski, whom I knew in Paris. He so worked upon the musicians, by
firing them with ambition to do better than Leipzig, that they were
rabid for rehearsals. We had four, and they would gladly have had a
fifth had there been time.
“The Dresden _Kapelle_ is directed by Reissiger, of whom we know
little in Paris, and by young Richard Wagner, who spent a long time
with us, without, however, making himself known except by a few
articles in the _Gazette Musicale_. He has only just received his
appointment, and, proud and pleased, is doing his very best to help
me.
“He bore endless privations in France, with the added bitterness of
obscurity, yet he returned to Saxony and boldly wrote and composed
a five-act opera, _Rienzi_, of which the success was so great that
he followed it up with the _Flying Dutchman_.
“A man who could, twice over, write words and music for an opera
must be exceptionally gifted, and the King of Saxony did well to
give him the appointment.
“I only heard the second part of _Rienzi_, which is too long to be
played in one evening, and I cannot, in one hearing, pretend to
know it thoroughly, but I particularly noted a fine prayer and a
triumphal march.
“The score of the _Flying Dutchman_ struck me by its sombre
colouring, and the clever effect of some tempestuous motifs.
But there, as in _Rienzi_, I thought he abused the use of the
_tremolo_--sign of a certain lazy attitude of mind against which
he must guard.
“In spite of that, all honour to the royal remembrance that has
saved from despair such a highly endowed young artist.
“My concerts were successful, the second even more so than the
first. What the public liked best were the _Requiem_--although we
could not give the most difficult numbers of it--and the _5th May
Cantata_, no doubt because the memory of Napoleon is as dear to the
Germans now as to us French.[19]
“I made the acquaintance of that wonderful English harpist,
Parish-Alvars. He is indeed the Liszt of the harp! He produces the
most extraordinary effects, and has written a fantasia on _Moses_
that Thalberg has most happily arranged for the piano.
“Why on earth does he not come to Paris?
“When I left Dresden to go back to Leipzig, Lipinski heard that
Mendelssohn had put the finale of _Romeo and Juliet_ in rehearsal,
and told me that if he could get a holiday he should go over and
hear it.
“I thought it was a mere compliment, but judge of my consternation
when, on the day of the concert, he turned up. He had travelled
thirty-five leagues to hear a piece that was not given after all,
because the singer who was entrusted with Friar Lawrence’s part
refused to learn his notes!
_To_ H. HEINE.
“So great has been my happiness in your good town of Brunswick that
I should like to tell it all to my dearest foes instead of to you,
my friend, to whom it can hardly give pleasure!
“But a truce to irony; it is mere vanity that makes me begin like
this, taking a leaf out of your book--inimitable satirist!
“How often in our talks have I regretted that nothing would make
you serious, that nothing would stop the restless working of those
feline claws, even when you were under the delusion that they were
safely sheathed in your velvet paws--you tiger-cat!
“Yet look at the sensitive, delicate imagery of your writings--for
you _can_ sing major when you choose; at your enthusiasm when
you let yourself go; at your tender hidden love for your old
grandmother, Germany!
“She, too, speaks of you with wistful tenderness; her elder sons
are dead and gone; there remains but you, whom she calls, with a
smile, her naughty boy.
“It would be easy for you to make splendid travesties of my
Brunswick visit, yet such is my fearless confidence in you, that to
you I mean to tell everything.
“That ideal family of musicians, the Müllers, received me and
arranged my concert. I counted altogether seven of them, brothers,
sons, and nephews, and never in all my travels did I see so devoted
and impassioned a set of men.
“As soon as they grasped the chief difficulties of my symphonies
(which they did at the first rehearsal), their progress between
each meeting was simply incredible. On my expressing surprise, I
found that they were deceiving me about the time, and that the
whole orchestra actually arrived each morning an hour before I did
to practise the intricate passages.
“At Zinkeisen’s request we actually dared to try _Queen Mab_, which
I had never hitherto dared do in Germany. ‘We will practise so
hard,’ said he, ‘that we _must_ do it.’
“He did not misjudge his colleagues; my dainty little lady in her
microscopic car, drawn by humming gnats at full gallop, disported
herself with all her tricksey caprices--to the delight of the good
Brunswickers.
“You--own brother to fairies and will-o’-the-wisps and their chosen
poet laureate--will realise my misgivings; but never did my tiny
invisible queen glide more happily and gaily through her world of
silent harmonies.
“Then, in contrast, with what magnificent fury did they not seize
on the _Orgie_ in _Harold_.
“There was something absolutely terrifying and supernatural in
their diabolic rhythm as they bounded, roared, and clashed. Ah, you
poets! No joy is yours equal to the joy of conducting!
“I longed to fold the whole orchestra in one comprehensive embrace,
but all I could do was cry in French--
“‘Gentlemen, you are sublime! You are
stupendous brigands!’
“The concert was crowded and the audience quite carried away;
hardly was the last chord struck when a frantic noise shook the
hall; it was compounded of the shouts of the listeners, the
discordant blare of the wind instruments, the tapping of bows on
the violins, and the clang of percussion instruments.
“At first I felt perfectly savage at this ruin to my finale, but I
calmed down when George Müller, laden with flowers, stepped forward
and said in French:
“‘Monsieur, allow me to offer these in
the name of the Ducal Kapelle.’
“The shouts and noise redoubled, my baton fell from my hand, and my
head whirled.
“Hardly had I left the theatre when I was invited to a supper given
in my honour by artists and amateurs. There were a hundred and
fifty guests.
“Toasts, speeches in French and German, to which I responded as
well as I could, then a most musical and effective hurrah was
chanted by all in chorus. The basses began on D, tenors on A, and
the ladies following on F♯, made up the chord of D major, to which
succeeded the sub-dominant, tonic, dominant, tonic. It was most
beautiful, most worthy of a really musical nation. Will you laugh
and call me a great simpleton for repeating all this, dear Heine? I
must candidly own that I enjoyed it.