Difficulties of the Piano. Triumphal Entry of the Troops. Paris.
BERLIN, _June 25, 1871_.
I have been learning Beethoven's G major Concerto lately, and it is the
most horribly difficult thing I've ever attempted. I have practiced the
first movement a whole month, and I can't play it any more than I can
fly. If you hear Miss Mehlig play it, I trust you will take in what a
feat it is. Kullak gave me a regular rating over it at my last lesson,
and told me I must stick to it till I _could_ play it. It requires the
greatest rapidity and facility of execution, and I get perfectly
desperate over it. Kullak took advantage of the occasion to expand upon
all the things an artist must be able to do, until my heart died within
me. "What do you know of double thirds?" said he. I had to admit that I
knew nothing of double thirds, and then he rushed down the piano like
lightning from top to bottom in a scale in double thirds, just as if it
were a common scale.
In one respect Kullak is a more discouraging teacher than Tausig, for
Tausig only played occasionally before you, where it was absolutely
necessary, and contented himself with scolding and blaming. Kullak, on
the contrary, doesn't scold much, but as he plays continually before and
with you, with him you see how the thing _ought_ to be done, and the
perception of your own deficiencies stands out before you mercilessly.
My constant thought is, "When _will_ my passages pearl? When _will_ my
touch be perfectly equal? When _will_ my octaves be played from a
lightly-hung wrist? When _will_ my trill be brilliant and sustained?
When _will_ my thumb turn under and my fourth finger over without the
slightest perceptible break? When _will_ my arpeggios go up the piano in
that peculiar _roll_ that a genuine artist gives?" etc., etc. All this
gives a heavy heart, and so disinclines me to write that you must excuse
my frequent silences.
We are having such a horrid cold summer that I sit and shiver all the
time. I wish we could have a little of the hot weather you speak of. I
have put on a muslin dress only once. Berlin is a very severe climate, I
think.
The week before last was the triumphal entry or "Einzug" of the troops.
They all went past my window, so I had a full view of them. The Emperor
had made immense preparations, for he is very proud of his army. All
along the Königgrätzer Strasse (the street we live in), to the
Brandenburger Gate, a distance of two or three miles, were set tall
poles at intervals of a few feet, connected by wreaths of green. These
were painted red and white, and had gilded pinnacles; they were
surmounted by the Prussian flag, which is black and white, with a black
eagle in the centre. About half way down the poles was set a coat of
arms, with the flags of the older German States grouped about it. As
they were of different colours, the effect was very gay, and they made
a triumphal path of waving banners for the troops to pass under. All
along the last part of the Königgrätzer Strasse, before you come to the
Linden, were set the French cannon which were captured, and on them was
printed the name of the place where the battle was, and one read on them
"Metz, Sedan, Strasburg," etc. All up the Linden, too, the way for the
soldiers was hemmed in on each side with cannon. The mitrailleuses
interested me the most, because they had thirty bores in each one, and
could fire as many balls in succession. In this way, you see, a single
cannon could _rain_ shot. Luckily the French aim so badly that they
couldn't have killed half so many Prussians as they expected. On every
Platz (as the Germans call the squares), were columns and statues set
up, and enormous scaffolds for people to sit on, all decked out with
flags and coloured cloth. In short, the whole city was got up in gala
array, and looked as gay as possible.
Of course there were thousands of strangers who had come on to see it,
and the streets were crowded. For about a week beforehand there was one
continual stream of people going by our house, and a long line of
carriages and droschkies as far as one could see, creeping along at a
snail's pace behind each other. I got worn out with the noise and
confusion long before the eventful day came. When it _did_ arrive,
already at six o'clock in the morning, when I looked out of my window,
the walls of Prince Albrecht's garden opposite were covered with boys
and men, and there they had to sit until nearly twelve o'clock, with
their legs dangling down, and nothing to eat or drink, before the
procession came by, and _then_ it took four hours to pass! Such is
German endurance, and a still more striking instance of it was shown by
an orchestra stationed on the sidewalk opposite my window. There were no
seats or awnings for them, and there they stood on the stones in the hot
sun for fully six hours, playing every little while on those heavy
French horns and trumpets. Just imagine it! I was astonished that there
was no scaffold erected for them to sit on, and wondered how the poor
fellows could _stand_ it.
Just before eleven o'clock the gate of Prince Albrecht's garden flew
open, and out he rode, accompanied by a large suite, and they remained
there awaiting the Emperor, who was to ride by on his way to meet the
troops. I wish you could have seen them in their superb uniforms, seated
on their magnificent horses. They looked like knights of the olden time,
with their embroidered saddle-cloths and gay trappings. Preceding the
Emperor came the Empress and all the ladies of the royal family in about
ten carriages, each one with six horses and the Empress's with eight.
The ladies were gorgeously dressed, of course, in light coloured silks
with lace over-dresses. Then came the Emperor and his escort, riding
slowly and majestically along. The enthusiasm was immense as they passed
by, and they were indeed a proud sight. Bismarck, Moltke and Von Roon
rode in one row by themselves. Bismarck looked very imposing in his
uniform entirely of white and silver, with enormous top-boots, and a
brazen helmet surmounted by a silver eagle. There was every variety of
uniform, and the Crown Prince looked very handsome in his. He is a
splendid-looking man, with a very soldierly bearing, and he rides to
perfection.
The royal party went out to the parade ground, where they met the army,
and then returned at the head of it, riding very slowly. Then, for four
hours, the soldiers poured by at a very quick step. If you could have
seen that _river_ of men roll along, you would have some idea of the
strength of this nation. They were tall for the most part, and their
helmets and guns glittered in the sun. They were dressed in their old
uniforms, just as they came from the field of battle. The people
showered wreaths and bouquets upon them as they passed, and every man
presented a festal appearance with his helmet crowned, a bouquet on the
point of his bayonet, and flowers in his button hole. The Emperor's way
was literally carpeted with flowers, and his grooms rode behind him
picking them up, and hanging the wreaths upon their saddle-bows.
Bismarck, Moltke and Von Roon and all the men of mark during the war
were similarly favoured.
The army marched along at an astonishingly quick pace. I was surprised
to see them walk so fast, heavily laden as they were with their guns and
knapsacks and blankets, etc. Many of them had been marching a good part
of the night to get to the place of rendezvous, and they had had a
parade early in the morning. A good many of them fainted and had to be
carried out of the ranks, and eight of them died! It was the hottest day
we have had this summer.--I was the most interested in the Uhlanen. They
were the greatest terror of the French, and were light cavalry with no
arms except a large pistol and a lance. Just below the head of the
lance was a little Prussian flag attached, and nearly every one was
splashed with the blood of some poor Frenchman. When one looked at those
terrible spikes, it seemed a most dreadful death, and I don't wonder
that the French lost all courage at the sight of them. You see, being on
horseback and so lightly armed, the Uhlanen could go about like
lightning, and were able to appear suddenly at the most unexpected
points. As I was not on the Linden I did not see the army received at
the Brandenburger Gate by the four hundred young ladies dressed in
white, so I can't give you any account of _that_. Bismarck, who always
knows what to do, took a handful of wreaths from his saddle-bow, and
flung them smilingly over among the welcoming maidens. He is a courtly
creature. I was nearly dead from just looking out of my window, and
listening to the continual music of the bands, and I did not get over
the fatigue and nervous excitement for several days; but I was very
fortunate to be able to see it from the house, for many persons who had
to sit on the scaffolds were dreadfully burned, and were thrown into a
fever by it. You see they weren't allowed to put up their parasols, as
that obscured the view of the people behind them. I had one friend who
suffered awfully with her face, and did not sleep for three nights. She
said it was as if she had been burnt by fire, and the whole skin peeled
off.
July 4th.--As usual, it is over a week since I began this letter, and I
have just decided to start at once on a summer journey with Mrs. and
Miss V. N., Mr. P. and Mrs., Mr. and Miss S. Kullak is away for his
vacation, so I shall lose no lessons. We shall go first to Cologne and
then to Bonn and Coblentz and down the Rhine. Perhaps we shall get as
far as Heidelberg. We got one of those return tickets, which makes the
journey very cheap; only you are limited to a certain time. We expect to
be gone until the 1st of August. I intend to walk a great deal between
the different points. Where the scenery is picturesque we shall
occasionally walk from station to station. We take no baggage except a
little bag (which we sling over our backs with straps), containing a
change of linen and a brush and comb and tooth brush. We shall wear the
same dress all the time and have our linen washed at the hotel. I
thought it was a good chance for me, and as we shall be a party of
embryo artists, we expect to go along in the Bohemian and happy-go-lucky
style of our class. I think of writing a novel on the way! Won't it be
romantic? Only, unluckily for Miss S. and myself, we shall have no
adorers, as Mr. P. and Miss V. G. are engaged, and Mr. S. is only about
eighteen!
Just before the Einzug I was at a party at the Bancroft's, and was
standing near a doorway talking to one of N.'s class-mates in Harvard,
when a portly gentleman pushed very rudely between us and stood there
talking to Mr. Bancroft, who was on the other side of me. We gazed at
him for a minute before we went on with our conversation. Presently the
gentleman took his leave and bustled away. "That was the Duke of
Somerset," said Mr. Bancroft to me. I was rather surprised, for I had
just been thinking to myself, "What an unmannerly creature you are!"--I
suppose he had come on to the Einzug.
Triumphant Berlin, by the way, is rather a contrast to Paris under the
Commune. Such a horrible time as they have been having there! It is
enough to make one's blood run cold to think of it. What insane
barbarians they are--and the worst of it is the part the women take in
it. I saw a picture of Thiers' house which they burnt down. It was a
magnificent mansion, and crammed full of exquisite works of art. Mr.
Bancroft grieved over it, for he had dined there, and knew what
treasures it contained. He said it was one of the most beautiful houses
he had ever been in.--And then the idea of pulling down the column of
the Place Vendome! Napoleon had built it from cannon which he had
captured in his great battles and melted down, so that in a special
manner it was a monument of their victories over other nations. There is
a stupidity about them which makes them perfectly pitiable.
[In 1848 Saint Beuve wrote the following almost prophetic words:
"Nothing is swifter to decline in crises like the present (the
Revolution of 1848) than civilization. In three weeks the result of many
centuries are lost. Civilization, life, is a thing learned and invented.
* * * * After years of tranquility men are too forgetful of this truth;
they come to think that culture is innate, that it is the same thing as
nature. But in truth barbarism is but a few paces off and begins again
as soon as our hold is slackened."]--ED.