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MUSIC-STUDY IN GERMANY
[Illustration: colophon]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO DALLAS
ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD,
TORONTO
MUSIC-STUDY IN GERMANY
FROM
THE HOME CORRESPONDENCE
OF AMY FAY
EDITED BY
MRS. FAY PEIRCE
AUTHOR OF "CO-OPERATIVE HOUSEKEEPING"
"The light that never was on sea or land."
WORDSWORTH
"Pour admirer assez il faut admirer trop, et un peu d'illusion
est necessaire au bonheur."
CHERBULIEZ
WITH A PREFATORY NOTE
BY O. G. SONNECK
NEW YORK
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1922
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT,
JANSEN, McCLURG & COMPANY
1880.
COPYRIGHT, 1896,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Printed August, 1896; reprinted June, 1897;
September, 1900; February, 1903; March, 1905;
June, 1908; July, 1909; August, 1913; April, 1922.
Norwood Press:
Berwick & Smith, Norwood, Mass., U. S. A.
PREFATORY NOTE.
Comparatively few books on music have enjoyed the distinction of
reissue. Twenty-one editions is an amazing record for a book of so
narrow a subject as "Music Study in Germany." The case of Miss Amy Fay's
volume becomes all the more unusual, if one considers that her letters
were written only for home, not for a public audience and further that
within twenty years from the year of first publication, her observations
had become more or less obsolete.
The Germany of the years 1869-1875 was quite different from the Germany
of 1900 and certainly of 1912, even down to German table-manners. The
earlier "Spiessbürgertum" of which Miss Fay gives such entertaining
glimpses even in high quarters with their pomp and circumstance, was
rapidly being replaced, at least outwardly, by the more cosmopolitan
culture of the _fin de siècle_, not to mention the ambition for
political, industrial and commercial "Weltmacht" in a nation thitherto
known, perhaps too romantically, as a nation of "Denker und Dichter."
Most of the heroes of the book are long since dead, Miss Fay included,
who died in 1921. While even as late as 1890, Miss Fay's volume could
have been used as a guide of orientation by the would-be student of
music in Germany, certainly it could no longer serve such a purpose
during the years just prior to the war, when the lone American student
of her book who despised Germany and everything German was definitely in
the ascendency. In other words, her personal observations had ceased to
be applicable except in certain details of ambient and had passed into
the realm of autobiography valuable for historical reading. As a piece
of historical literature proper, I doubt that the book would have
survived the war, because it is lamentably true that the average
American music-student or even cultured lover of music is not
particularly interested in musical history as such.
To this must be added the indisputable fact that "music study in
Germany" or in France, for that matter, had become a mere matter of
personal taste and predilection, and was not a necessity as in the days
of Miss Fay's amusing experiments with this or that German teacher of
renown. An endless stream of excellent European artists and teachers had
poured into America since then, augmented by the equally broad stream of
native Americans who had learned their _métier_ abroad. Music study in
America thus became an easy matter and many an aspiring virtuoso would
have done more wisely by staying and studying at home, instead of
venturing to a European country with its different language, its
different temperament, its different mode of living, customs and so
forth. Germany, in particular, is still a "marvellous home of music," to
quote an editorial remark of Miss Fay's sister, but it is no longer the
"only real home of music," thanks precisely to such artists as Miss Amy
Fay herself.
To point out the radical change in conditions in that respect is one
thing, quite another to deny, as some rather zealotic patriots do, that
Europe, Germany included, can still give the American music-student
something which he does not have at home quite in the same manner.
Debate on that subject is futile. Let the American music-student at some
time in his career, but only when he is ripe for further study in a
foreign country, sojourn a few years in Paris, Berlin, Leipzig, Munich,
Vienna, Rome, London, and he will profitably encounter, whether it be to
his taste or not, that indefinable something which the old world in
matters of life, art, and art-life possessed as peculiarly its own in
1870, still possesses to-day, and will possess for many, many years to
come.
What, then, gives to Miss Fay's book its vitality? What is it that
justifies the publisher in keeping the book accessible for the benefit
of those who wish to study music in Germany instead of elsewhere or of
those even who study music in America?
Of course, there is first of all the charm of Miss Fay's own
personality, the charm of her observations intimately, entertainingly,
and shrewdly expressed. That makes for good reading. Incidentally, it
teaches a student-reader to be observant, which unfortunately many
musicians are not, even in matters of technique on their chosen
instrument. Secondly, the seriousness of purpose of the authoress, the
determination to improve her understanding of art and technique to the
very limit of her natural ability, will act as a stimulating tonic for
him or her who despairs of ever conquering the often so forbidding
difficulties of music. The book will teach patience to Americans,
patience and endurance in endeavor, qualities which are none too
frequent in us. Young America forgets too often that the _Gradus ad
Parnassum_ is not only steep; it is long and rough.
There is furthermore in these letters that respect for solid
accomplishment of others, that reverential attitude toward the great in
art and toward art itself, without which no musician, however talented,
will ever reach the commanding heights of art. There permeates these
letters the enthusiasm of youth, that perhaps sometimes overshoots its
mark but for which most of us would gladly exchange the more critical
attitude of maturer years. For we learn to appreciate sooner or later
that enthusiasm is the propelling force and the refreshing source of
inspiration. Finally, born of all these elements there appear on the
pages of Miss Fay's letters such fascinating pen-portraits as that of
her revered master, Franz Liszt, the incomparable. Turning the pages of
the volume to refresh my memory and impression of it, I confess that I
skipped quite a few because their interest seemed so remote and
personal, but I found myself absorbing every word Miss Fay had to say in
her chapters about Liszt and his Weimar circle. An enjoyable experience
which one may safely recommend to those who desire first-hand
impressions of the golden days of pianism in Germany, of the romantic,
indeed almost legendary figure of Franz Liszt, and consequently a touch
of the stuff out of which art-novels are made, into the bargain.
O. G. SONNECK
PREFACE.
In preparing for the public letters which were written only for home, I
have hoped that some readers would find in them the charm of style which
the writer's friends fancy them to possess; that others would think the
description of her masters amid their pupils, and especially Liszt,
worth preserving; while piano students would be grateful for the
information that an analysis of the piano technique has been made, such
as very greatly to diminish the difficulties of the instrument.
How much of Herr Deppe's piano "method" is original with himself,
pianists must decide. That he has at least made an invaluable _résumé_
of all or most of their secrets, my sister believes no student of the
instrument who fairly and conscientiously examines into the matter will
deny.
M. FAY PEIRCE.
CHICAGO, Dec., 1880.
PREFACE
TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
Miss Fay's little book has been so popular in her own country as to have
gone through half a dozen editions, and even in German, into which it
was translated soon after its first appearance, it has had much success.
It is strange that it has not been already published in England, where
music excites so much attention, and where works on musical subjects are
beginning to form a distinct branch of literature. This is the more
remarkable because it is thoroughly readable and amusing, which books on
music too rarely are. The freshness and truth of the letters is not to
be denied. We may laugh at the writer's enthusiasm, at the readiness
with which she changes her methods and gives up all that she has already
learnt at the call of each fresh teacher, at the certainty with which
every new artist is announced as quite the best she ever heard, and at
the glowing and confident predictions--not, alas, apparently always
realised. But no one can laugh at her indomitable determination, and the
artistic earnestness with which she makes the most of each of her
opportunities, or the brightness and ease with which all is described
(in choice American), and each successive person placed before us in his
habit as he lives. Such a gift is indeed a rare and precious one. Will
Miss Fay never oblige us with an equally charming and faithful account
of music and life in the States? Hitherto musical America has been
almost an unknown land to us, described by the few who have attempted it
in the most opposite terms. Their singers we already know well, and in
this respect America is perhaps destined to be the Italy of the future,
if only the artists will consent to learn slowly enough. But on the
subject of American players and American orchestras, and the taste of
the American amateurs, a great deal of curiosity is felt, and we commend
the subject to the serious attention of one so thoroughly able to do it
justice.
GEORGE GROVE.
December, 1885.
PREFACE
TO THE GERMAN EDITION.
Die vorliegenden Briefe einer Amerikanerin in die Heimath, die im
Original bereits in zweiter Auflage erschienen sind, werden, so hoffen
wir, auch dem deutschen Leser nicht minderes Vergnügen, nicht geringere
Anregung als dem amerikanischen gewähren, da sie in unmittelbarer
Frische niedergeschrieben, ein lebendiges Bild von den Beziehungen der
Verfasserin zu den hervorragendsten musikalischen Persönlichkeiten, wie
Liszt, v. Bülow, Tausig, Joachim u. s. w. bieten.
Wir geben das Buch in wortgetreuer Uebersetzung und haben es nur um
diejenigen Briefe gekürzt, die in Deutschland Allzubekanntes behandeln.
Hingegen glaubten wir die Stellen dem Leser nicht vorenthalten zu
dürfen, welche zwar nicht musikalischen Inhalts sind, uns aber zeigen,
wie manche unserer deutschen Zu-oder Mißstände von Amerikanern
beurtheilt werden.
Robert Oppenheim, Publisher.
Berlin, 1882.
CONTENTS.
IN TAUSIG'S CONSERVATORY.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE.
A GERMAN INTERIOR IN BERLIN. A GERMAN PARTY. JOACHIM.
TAUSIG'S CONSERVATORY. 13
CHAPTER II.
CLARA SCHUMANN AND JOACHIM. THE AMERICAN MINISTER'S. THE
MUSEUM. THE CONSERVATORY. OPERA. TAUSIG. CHRISTMAS. 25
CHAPTER III.
TAUSIG AND RUBINSTEIN. TAUSIG'S PUPILS. THE BANCROFTS. A
GERMAN RADICAL. 37
CHAPTER IV.
OPERA AND ORATORIO IN BERLIN. A TYPICAL AMERICAN. PRUSSIAN
RUDENESS. CONSERVATORY CHANGES. EASTER. 51
CHAPTER V.
THE THIER-GARTEN. A MILITARY REVIEW. CHARLOTTENBURG.
TAUSIG. BERLIN IN SUMMER. POTSDAM AND BABELSBERG. 64
CHAPTER VI.
THE WAR. GERMAN MEALS. WOMEN AND MEN. TAUSIG'S TEACHING.
TAUSIG ABANDONS HIS CONSERVATORY. DRESDEN. KULLAK. 79
WITH KULLAK.
CHAPTER VII.
MOVING. GERMAN HOUSES AND DINNERS. THE WAR. CAPTURE OF
NAPOLEON. KULLAK'S AND TAUSIG'S TEACHING. JOACHIM. WAGNER.
TAUSIG'S PLAYING. GERMAN ETIQUETTE. 95
CHAPTER VIII.
CONCERTS. JOACHIM AGAIN. THE SIEGE OF PARIS. PEACE DECLARED.
WAGNER. A WOMAN'S SYMPHONY. OVATION TO WAGNER IN
BERLIN. 111
CHAPTER IX.
DIFFICULTIES OF THE PIANO. TRIUMPHAL ENTRY OF THE TROOPS.
PARIS. 123
CHAPTER X.
A RHINE JOURNEY. FRANKFORT. MAINZ. SAIL DOWN THE RHINE.
COLOGNE. BONN. THE SEVEN MOUNTAINS. WORMS. SPIRE.
HEIDELBERG. TAUSIG'S DEATH. 131
CHAPTER XI.
EISENACH. GOTHA. ERFURT. ANDERNACH. WEIMAR. TAUSIG. 145
CHAPTER XII.
DINNER-PARTY AND RECEPTION AT MR. BANCROFT'S. AUDITION AT
TAUSIG'S HOUSE. A GERMAN CHRISTMAS. THE JOACHIMS. 157
CHAPTER XIII.
VISIT TO DRESDEN. THE WIECKS. VON BÜLOW. A CHILD PRODIGY.
GRANTZOW, THE DANCER. 163
CHAPTER XIV.
A RISING ORGANIST. KULLAK. VON BÜLOW'S PLAYING. A PRINCELY
FUNERAL. WILHELMI'S CONCERT. A COURT BEAUTY. 174
CHAPTER XV.
THE BOSTON FIRE. AGGRAVATIONS OF MUSIC STUDY. KULLAK.
SHERWOOD. HOCH SCHULE. A BRILLIANT AMERICAN. GERMAN
DANCING. 182
CHAPTER XVI.
A GERMAN PROFESSOR. SHERWOOD. THE BARONESS VON S. VON
BÜLOW. A GERMAN PARTY. JOACHIM. THE BARONESS AT HOME. 192
WITH LISZT.
CHAPTER XVII.
ARRIVES IN WEIMAR. LISZT AT THE THEATRE.--AT A PARTY. AT
HIS OWN HOUSE. 205
CHAPTER XVIII.
LISZT'S DRAWING-ROOM. AN ARTIST'S WALKING PARTY. LISZT'S
TEACHING. 218
CHAPTER XIX.
LISZT'S EXPRESSION IN PLAYING. LISZT ON CONSERVATORIES. ORDEAL
OF LISZT'S LESSONS. LISZT'S KINDNESS. 227
CHAPTER XX.
LISZT'S COMPOSITIONS. HIS PLAYING AND TEACHING OF BEETHOVEN.
HIS "EFFECTS" IN PIANO-PLAYING. EXCURSION TO JENA. A
NEW MUSIC MASTER. 235
CHAPTER XXI.
LISZT'S PLAYING. TAUSIG. EXCURSION TO SONDERSHAUSEN. 248
CHAPTER XXII.
FAREWELL TO LISZT! GERMAN CONSERVATORIES AND THEIR METHODS.
BERLIN AGAIN. LISZT AND JOACHIM. 263
CHAPTER XXIII.
KULLAK AS A TEACHER. THE FOUR GREAT VIRTUOSI, CLARA SCHUMANN,
RUBINSTEIN, VON BÜLOW AND TAUSIG. 272
WITH DEPPE.
CHAPTER XXIV.
GIVES UP KULLAK FOR DEPPE. DEPPE'S METHOD IN TOUCH AND IN
SCALE-PLAYING. FRÄULEIN STEINIGER. PEDAL STUDY. 283
CHAPTER XXV.
CHORD-PLAYING. DEPPE NO MERE "PEDAGOGUE." SHERWOOD.
MOZART'S CONCERTOS. PRACTICING SLOWLY. THE OPERA BALL. 299
CHAPTER XXVI.
A SET OF BEETHOVEN VARIATIONS. FANNIE WARBURG. DEPPE'S
INVENTIONS. HIS ROOM. HIS AFTERNOON COFFEE. PYRMONT. 311
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BRUSSELS CONSERVATOIRE. STEINIGER. EXCURSION TO KLEINBERG.
GIVING A CONCERT. FRÄULEIN TIMM. 328
CHAPTER XXVIII.
MUSIC IN HAMBURG. STUDYING CHAMBER MUSIC. ABSENCE OF RELIGION
IN GERMANY. SOUTH AMERICANS. DEPPE ONCE MORE.
A CONCERT DEBUT. POSTSCRIPT. 331
IN TAUSIG'S CONSERVATORY.
MUSIC-STUDY IN GERMANY.
CHAPTER I.
A German Interior in Berlin. A German Party. Joachim. Tausig's
Conservatory.
BERLIN, _November 3, 1869_.
Behold me at last at No. 26 Bernburger Strasse! where I arrived exactly
two weeks from the day I left New York. Frau W. and her daughter,
Fräulein A. W., greeted me with the greatest warmth and cordiality, and
made me feel at home immediately. The German idea of a "large" room I
find is rather peculiar, for this one is not more than ten or eleven
feet square, and has one corner of it snipped off, so that the room is
an irregular shape. When I first entered it I thought I could not stay
in it, it seemed so small, but when I came to examine it, so ingeniously
is every inch of space made the most of, that I have come to the
conclusion that it will be very comfortable. It is not, however, the
apartment where "the last new novel will lie upon the table, and where
my daintily slippered feet will rest upon the velvet cushion." No!
rather is it the stern abode of the Muses.
To begin then: the room is spotlessly clean and neat. The walls are
papered with a nice new paper, grey ground with blue figures--a cheap
paper, but soft and pretty. In one corner stands my little bureau with
three deep drawers. Over it is a large looking-glass nicely framed. In
the other corner on the same side is a big sofa which at night becomes a
little bed. Next to the foot of the sofa, against the wall, stands a
tiny square table, with a marble top, and a shelf underneath, on which
are a basin and a minute soap-dish and tumbler. In the opposite corner
towers a huge grey porcelain stove, which comes up to within a few feet
of the ceiling. Next is one stiff cane-bottomed chair on four stiff
legs. Then comes the lop-sided corner of the room, where an upright
piano is to stand. Next there is a little space where hangs the
three-shelved book-case, which will contain my _vast_ library. Then
comes a broad French window with a deep window-seat. By this window is
my sea-chair--by far the most luxurious one in the house! Then comes my
bureau again, and so on _Da Capo_. In the middle is a pretty round
table, with an inlaid centre-piece, and on it is a waiter with a large
glass bottle full of water, and a glass; and this, with one more stiff
chair, completes the furniture of the room. My curtains are white, with
a blue border, and two transparencies hang in the window. My towel-rack
is fastened to the wall, and has an embroidered centre-piece. On my
bureau is a beautiful inkstand, the cover being a carved eagle with
spread wings, perched over a nest with three eggs in it. It is quite
large, and looks extremely pretty under the looking-glass.
After I had taken off my things, Frau W. and her daughter ushered me
into their parlour, which had the same look of neatness and simplicity
and of extreme economy. There are no carpets on any of the floors, but
they have large, though cheap, rugs. You never saw such a primitive
little household as it is--that of this German lawyer's widow. We think
our house at home small, but I feel as if we lived in palatial
magnificence after seeing how they live here, _i. e._, about as our
dressmakers used to do in the country, and yet it is sufficiently nice
and comfortable. There are two very pretty little rooms opposite mine,
which are yet to be let together. If some friend of mine could only take
them I should be perfectly happy.
At night my bed is made upon the sofa. (They all sleep on these sofas.)
The cover consists of a feather bed and a blanket. That sounds rather
formidable, but the feather bed is a light, warm covering, and looks
about two inches thick. It is much more comfortable than our bed
coverings in America. I tuck myself into my nest at night, and in the
morning after breakfast, when I return to my
room--_agramento-presto-change!_--my bed is converted into a sofa, my
basin is laid on the shelf, the soap-dish and my combs and brushes are
scuttled away into the drawer; the windows are open, a fresh fire
crackles in my stove, and my charming little bed-room is straightway
converted into an equally charming sitting-room. How does the picture
please you?
This morning Frau and Fräulein W. went with me to engage a piano, and
they took me also to the conservatory. Tausig is off for six weeks,
giving concerts. As I went up the stairs I heard most beautiful playing.
Ehlert, Tausig's partner, who has charge of the conservatory, and
teaches his pupils in his absence, examined me. After that long voyage I
did not dare attempt anything difficult, so I just played one of Bach's
Gavottes. He said some encouraging words, and for the present has taken
me into his class. I am to begin to-morrow from one o'clock to two. It
is now ten P. M., and tell C. we have had five meals to-day, so Madame
P.'s statement is about correct. The cooking is on the same scale as the
rest of the establishment--a little at a time, but so far very good. We
know nothing at all about rolls in America. Anything so delicious as the
rolls here I never ate in the way of bread. In the morning we had a cup
of coffee and rolls. At eleven we lunched on a cup of bouillon and a
roll. At two o'clock we had dinner, which consisted of soup and then
chickens, potatoes, carrots and bread, with beer. At five we had tea,
cake and toast, and at nine we had a supper of cold meat, boiled eggs,
tea and bread and butter. Fräulein W. speaks English quite nicely, and
is my medium of communication with her mother. I begin German lessons
with her to-morrow. They both send you their compliments, and so you
must return yours. They seem as kind as possible, and I think I am very
fortunate in my boarding place.
Be sure to direct your letters "Care Frau Geheimräthin W." (Mrs.
Councillor W.), as the German ladies are very particular about their
_titles_!
* * *
BERLIN, _November 21, 1869_.
Since I wrote to you not much of interest has occurred. I am delighted
with Berlin, and am enjoying myself very much, though I am working hard.
I am so thankful that all my sewing was done before I came, for I have
not a minute to spare for it, and here it seems to me all the dresses
fit so dreadfully. It would make me miserable to wear such looking
clothes, and as I can't speak the language, the difficulties in the way
of giving directions on the technicalities of dressmaking would be
terrific. Tell C. he is very wise to continue his German conversation
lessons with Madame P. Even the few that I took prove of immense
assistance to me, as I can understand almost everything that is said to
me, though I cannot answer back. He ought to make one of his lessons
about shopping and droschkie driving, for it is very essential to know
how to ask for things, and to be able to give directions in driving. I
had a very funny experience with a droschkie the other day, but it would
take too long to write it. Frau W. cannot understand English, and she
gets dreadfully impatient when Fräulein A. and I speak it, and always
says "_Deutsch_" in a sepulchral tone, so that I have to begin and say
it all over again in German with A.'s help.
When I got fairly settled I presented myself and my letters at the
Bancrofts, the B's. and the A's., and was very kindly and cordially
received by them all. Mrs. Bancroft and Mrs. B. have since called in
return, and I have already been to a charming reception at the house of
the latter, and to the grand American Thanksgiving dinner at the Hotel
de Rome, at which Mr. Bancroft presided, and made very happy speeches
both in English and German. I enjoyed both occasions extremely, and made
some pleasant acquaintances. I have also been to one German tea-party
with Frau W. and A., and there I had "the jolliest kind of a time."
There were only twelve invited, but you would have supposed from the
clatter that there were at least a hundred. At the American dinner there
was nothing like the noise of conversation that this little handful kept
up. Before supper it was rather stupid, for the men all retired to a
room by themselves, where they sat with closed doors and played whist
and smoked. It is not considered proper for ladies to play cards except
at home, and I, of course, did not say much, for the excellent reason
that I _couldn't_! At ten o'clock supper was announced, and the
gentlemen came and took us in. Herr J. was my partner. He is a
delightful man, though an elderly one, and knows no end of things, as he
has spent his whole life in study and in travelling. He looks to me like
a man of very sensitive organization, and of very delicate feelings. He
is a tremendous republican, and a great radical in every respect, and
has an unbounded admiration for America.
As soon as every one was seated at the table with due form and ceremony,
all began to talk as hard as they could, and you have no idea what a
noise they made, and how it increased toward the end with the potent
libations they had. The bill of fare was rather curious. We began with
slices of hot tongue, with a sauce of chestnuts, and it was extremely
nice, too. Then we had venison and boiled potatoes! Then we had a
dessert consisting of fruit, and some delicious cake. There were several
kinds of wine, and everybody drank the greatest quantity. The host and
hostess kept jumping up and going round to everybody, saying: "But you
drink nothing," and then they would insist upon filling up your glass. I
don't dare to think how many times they filled mine, but it seemed to be
etiquette to drink, and so I did as the rest. The repast ended with
coffee, and then the gentlemen lit their cigars, and were in such an
extremely cheerful frame of mind that they all began to sing, and I even
saw two old fellows kiss each other! The venison was delicious, and
nicer than any I ever ate. Herr J. was the only man in the room who
could speak any English, and since then he takes a good deal of interest
in me, and lends me books. Every Sunday Fran W. takes me to her sister's
house to tea. I like to go because I hear so much German spoken there,
and they all take a profound interest in my affairs. They know to a
minute when I get a letter, and when I write one, and every incident of
my daily life. It amuses them very much to see a real live wild Indian
from America. I am soon going to another German party, and I look
forward to it with much pleasure; not that the parties here give me the
same feeling as at home, but they are amusing because they are so
entirely different.
There is so much to be seen and heard in Berlin that if one has but the
money there is no end to one's resources. There are the opera and the
Schauspielhaus every night, and beautiful concerts every evening, too.
They say that the opera here is magnificent, and the scenery superb,
and they have a wonderful ballet-troupe. So far, however, I have only
been to one concert, and that was a sacred concert. But Joachim
played--and Oh-h, what a tone he draws out of the violin! I could think
of nothing but Mrs. Moulton's voice, as he _sighed_ out those
exquisitely pathetic notes. He played something by Schumann which ended
with a single note, and as he drew his bow across he produced so many
shades that it was perfectly marvellous. I am going to hear him again on
Sunday night, when he plays at Clara Schumann's concert. It will be a
great concert, for she plays much. She will be assisted by Joachim,
Müller, De Ahna, and by Joachim's wife, who has a beautiful voice and
sings charmingly in the serious German style. Joachim himself is not
only the greatest violinist in the world, but one of the greatest that
ever lived. De Ahna is one of the first violinists in Germany, and
Müller is one of the first 'cellists. In fact, this quartette cannot be
matched in Europe--so you see what I am expecting!
Tausig has not yet returned from his concert tour, and will not arrive
before the 21st of December. I find Ehlert a splendid teacher, but very
severe, and I am mortally afraid of him. Not that he is cross, but he
exacts so much, and such a hopeless feeling of despair takes possession
of me. His first lesson on touch taught me more than all my other
lessons put together--though, to be sure, that is not saying much, as
they were "few and far between." At present I am weltering in a sea of
troubles. The girls in my class are three in number, and they all play
so extraordinarily well that sometimes I think I can never catch up with
them. I am the worst of all the scholars in Tausig's classes that I have
heard, except one, and that is a young man. I know that Ehlert thinks I
have talent, but, after all, talent must go to the wall before such
_practice_ as these people have had, for most of them have studied a
long time, and have been at the piano four and five hours a day.
It is very interesting in the conservatory, for there are pupils there
from all countries except France. Some of them seem to me splendid
musicians. On Sunday morning (I am sorry to say) once in a month or six
weeks, they have what they call a "Musical Reading." It is held in a
piano-forte ware-room, and there all the scholars in the higher classes
play, so I had to go. Many of the girls played magnificently, and I was
amazed at the technique that they had, and at the artistic manner in
which even very young girls rendered the most difficult music, and all
without notes. It gave me a severe nervous headache just to hear them.
But it was delightful to see them go at it. None of them had the least
fear, and they laughed and chattered between the pieces, and when their
turn came they marched up to the piano, sat down as bold as lions, and
banged away so splendidly!
You have no idea how hard they make Cramer's Studies here. Ehlert makes
me play them tremendously _forte_, and as fast as I can go. My hand gets
so tired that it is ready to break, and then I say that I cannot go on.
"But you _must_ go on," he will say. It is the same with the scales. It
seems to me that I play them so loud that I make the welkin ring, and he
will say, "But you play always _piano_." And with all this rapidity he
does not allow a note to be missed, and if you happen to strike a wrong
one he looks so shocked that you feel ready to sink into the floor.
Strange to say, I enjoy the lessons in _Zusammenspiel_ (duet-playing)
very much, although it is all reading at sight. Four of us sit down at
two pianos and read duets at sight. Lesmann is a pleasant man, and he
always talks so fast that he amuses me very much. He always counts and
beats time most vigorously, and bawls in your ear, "_Eins--zwei!
Eins--zwei!_" or sometimes, "_Eins!_" only, on the first beat of every
bar. When, occasionally, we all get out, he looks at us through his
glasses, and then such a volley of words as he hurls at us is wonderful
to hear. I never can help laughing, though I take good care not to let
him see me.
But Weitzmann, the Harmony professor, is the funniest of all. He is the
dearest old man in the world, and it is impossible for him to be cross;
but he takes so much pains and trouble to make his class understand, and
he has the most peculiar way of talking imaginable, and accents
everything he says tremendously. I go to him because Ehlert says I must,
but as I know nothing of the theory of music (and if I did, the names
are so entirely different in German that I never should know what they
are in English) it is extremely difficult for me to understand him at
all. He knew I was an American, and let me pass for one or two lessons
without asking me any questions, but finally his German love of
thoroughness has got the better of him, and he is now beginning to take
me in hand. At the last lesson he wrote some chords on the blackboard,
and after holding forth for some time he wound up with his usual
"_Verstehen Sie wohl--Ja?_ (Do you understand--Yes?)" to the class, who
all shouted "_Ja_," except me. I kept a discreet silence, thinking he
would not notice, but he suddenly turned on me and said, "_Verstehen_
Sie _wohl--Ja?_" I was as puzzled what to say as the Pharisees were when
they were asked if the baptism of John were of heaven or of men. I knew
that if I said "_Ja_," he might call on me for a proof, and that if I
said "_Nein_," he would undertake to enlighten me, and that I should not
understand him.
After an instant's consideration I concluded the latter course was the
safer, and so I said, boldly, "_Nein_." "_Kommen Sie hierher!_ (Come
here!)" said he, and to my horror I had to step up to the blackboard in
front of this large class. He harangued me for some minutes, and then
writing some notes on the bass clef, he put the chalk into my hands and
told me to write. Not one word had I understood, and after staring
blankly at the board I said, "_Ich verstehe nicht_ (I don't
understand.)" "_Nein?_" said he, and carefully went over all his
explanation again. This time I managed to extract that he wished me to
write the succession of chords that those bass notes indicated, and to
tie what notes I could. A second time he put the chalk into my hands,
and told me to write the chords. "Heaven only knows what they are!"
thinks I to myself. In my desperation, however, I guessed at the first
one, and uttered the names of the notes in trembling accents, expecting
to have a cannon fired off at my head. Thanks to my lucky star, it
happened to be right. I wrote it on the blackboard, and then as my wits
sharpened I found the other chords from that one, and wrote them all
down right. I drew a long breath of relief as he released me from his
clutches, and sat down hardly believing I had done it. I have not now
the least idea what it was he made me do, but I suppose it will come to
me in the course of the year! As he does not understand a word of
English, I cannot say anything to him unless I can say it in German, and
as he is determined to make me learn Harmony, it would be of no use to
explain that I did not know what he was talking about, for he would
begin all over again, and go on _ad infinitum_. I have got a book on the
Theory of Music, which I am reading with Fräulein W. She has studied
with Weitzmann, also, and when I have caught up with the class I shall
go on very easily. I quite adore Weitzmann. He has the kindest old face
imaginable, and he hammers away so indefatigably at his pupils! The
professors I have described are all thorough and well-known musicians of
Berlin, and I wonder that people could tell us before I came away, and
really seem to believe it, "that I could learn as well in an American
conservatory as in a German one." In comparison with the drill I am now
receiving, my Boston teaching was mere play.