in and added to the liveliness of the occasion."
"May 7. At Liszt's, this evening, Klindworth, Laub, and Cossmann played
a piano trio by Spohr, after which Liszt played his recently composed
sonata and one of his concertos. In the afternoon I had played during my
lesson with Liszt the 'C Sharp Minor Sonata' of Beethoven and the 'E
Minor Fugue' by Handel."
"May 17. Lesson from Liszt this evening. Played Scherzo and Finale from
Beethoven's 'C Sharp Minor Sonata.'"
"May 20, Friday. Attended a court concert this evening which Liszt
conducted. Joachim played a violin solo by Ernst."
"May 22. Went to the Altenburg at eleven o'clock this forenoon. There
were about fifteen persons present--quite an unusual thing. Among other
things, a string quartet of Beethoven was played, Joachim taking the
first violin."
"May 23. Attended an orchestral rehearsal at which an overture and a
violin concerto by Joachim were performed, the latter played by
Joachim."
"May 27. Joachim Raff's birthday. Klindworth and I presented ourselves
to him early in the day and stopped his composing, insisting on having a
holiday. Our celebration of this event included a ride to Tiefurt and
attendance at a garden concert."
"May 29, Sunday. At Liszt's this forenoon as usual. No quartet to-day.
Wieniawski played first a violin solo by Ernst, and afterward with Liszt
the letter's duo on Hungarian airs."
"May 30. Attended a ball of the Erholung Gesellschaft this evening. At
our supper-table were Liszt, Raff, Wieniawski, Pruckner, and Klindworth.
Got home at four o'clock in the morning."
"June 4. Dined with Liszt at the Erbprinz. Liszt called at my rooms
later in the afternoon, bringing with him Dr. Marx and lady from Berlin,
also Raff and Winterberger. Liszt played three Chopin nocturnes and a
scherzo of his own. In the evening we were all invited to the Altenburg.
He played 'Harmonies du Soir, No. 2,' and his own sonata. He was at his
best and played divinely."
"June 9. Had a lesson from Liszt this evening. I played Chopin's 'E
Minor Concerto.'"
"June 10. Went to Liszt's this evening to a bock-beer soiree. The beer
was a present to Liszt from Pruckner's father, who has a large brewery
in Munich."
"Sunday, June 12. Usual quartet forenoon at the Altenburg. 'Quartet, Op.
161,' of Schubert's was played, also one of Beethoven's quartets."
The last entry may not seem to be particularly important, but it may be
as well not to end the quotations from a musical diary with a reference
to a bock-beer soiree.
OPPORTUNITIES
The period covered by these extracts was chosen at random, and they give
a fair idea of the many musical opportunities which were constantly
recurring throughout the entire year.
Ferdinand Laub, the leader of the quartet, was about twenty-one years of
age, and already a violinist of the first rank.
Wieniawski and Joachim, young men of the age of twenty-two and nineteen
years respectively, were among the most welcome visitors to Weimar.
Joachim, already celebrated as a quartet-player, was regarded by some as
the greatest living violinist. The playing of Wieniawski appealed to me
more than that of any other violinist of the time, and I remember it now
with intense pleasure.
BRAHMS IN 1853
On one evening early in June, 1853, Liszt sent us word to come up to the
Altenburg next morning, as he expected a visit from a young man who was
said to have great talent as a pianist and composer, and whose name was
Johannes Brahms. He was to come accompanied by Eduard Remenyi.
The next morning, on going to the Altenburg with Klindworth, we found
Brahms and Remenyi already in the reception-room with Raff and Pruckner.
After greeting the newcomers, of whom Remenyi was known to us by
reputation, I strolled over to a table on which were lying some
manuscripts of music. They were several of Brahms's yet unpublished
compositions, and I began turning over the leaves of the uppermost in
the pile. It was the piano solo "Op. 4, Scherzo, E Flat Minor," and, as
I remember, the writing was so illegible that I thought to myself that
if I had occasion to study it I should be obliged first to make a copy
of it. Finally Liszt came down, and after some general conversation he
turned to Brahms and said: "We are interested to hear some of your
compositions whenever you are ready and feel inclined to play them."
NERVOUS BEFORE LISZT
Brahms, who was evidently very nervous, protested that it was quite
impossible for him to play while in such a disconcerted state, and,
notwithstanding the earnest solicitations of both Liszt and Remenyi,
could not be persuaded to approach the piano. Liszt, seeing that no
progress was being made, went over to the table, and taking up the first
piece at hand, the illegible scherzo, and saying, "Well, I shall have to
play," placed the manuscript on the piano-desk.
We had often witnessed his wonderful feats in sight-reading, and
regarded him as infallible in that particular, but, notwithstanding our
confidence in his ability, both Raff and I had a lurking dread of the
possibility that something might happen which would be disastrous to our
unquestioning faith. So, when he put the scherzo on the piano-desk, I
trembled for the result. But he read it off in such a marvelous way--at
the same time carrying on a running accompaniment of audible criticism
of the music--that Brahms was amazed and delighted. Raff thought, and so
expressed himself, that certain parts of this scherzo suggested the
Chopin "Scherzo in B Flat Minor," but it seemed to me that the likeness
was too slight to deserve serious consideration. Brahms said that he had
never seen or heard any of Chopin's compositions. Liszt also played a
part of Brahms's "C Major Sonata, Op. 1."
DOZING WHILE LISZT PLAYED
A little later some one asked Liszt to play his own sonata, a work which
was quite recent at that time, and of which he was very fond. Without
hesitation, he sat down and began playing. As he progressed he came to a
very expressive part of the sonata, which he always imbued with extreme
pathos, and in which he looked for the especial interest and sympathy of
his listeners. Casting a glance at Brahms, he found that the latter was
dozing in his chair. Liszt continued playing to the end of the sonata,
then rose and left the room. I was in such a position that Brahms was
hidden from my view, but I was aware that something unusual had taken
place, and I think it was Remenyi who afterward told me what it was. It
is very strange that among the various accounts of this Liszt-Brahms
first interview--and there are several--there is not one which gives an
accurate description of what took place on that occasion; indeed, they
are all far out of the way. The events as here related are perfectly
clear in my own mind, but not wishing to trust implicitly to my memory
alone, I wrote to my friend Klindworth,--the only living witness of the
incident except myself, as I suppose,--and requested him to give an
account of it as he remembered it. He corroborated my description in
every particular, except that he made no specific reference to the
drowsiness of Brahms, and except, also, that, according to my
recollection, Brahms left Weimar on the afternoon of the day on which
the meeting took place; Klindworth writes that it was on the morning of
the following day--a discrepancy of very little moment.
Brahms and Remenyi were on a concert tour at the time of which I write,
and were dependent on such pianos as they could find in the different
towns in which they appeared. This was unfortunate, and sometimes
brought them into extreme dilemma. On one occasion the only piano at
their disposal was just a half-tone at variance with the violin. There
was no pianoforte-tuner at hand, and although the violin might have been
adapted to the piano temporarily, Remenyi would have had serious
objections to such a proceeding. Brahms therefore adapted himself to the
situation, transposed the piano part to the pitch of the violin, and
played the whole composition, Beethoven's "Kreutzer Sonata," from
memory. Joachim, attracted by this feat, gave Brahms a letter of
introduction to Schumann. Shortly after the untoward Weimar incident
Brahms paid a visit to Schumann, then living in Dusseldorf. The
acquaintanceship resulting therefrom led to the famous article of
Schumann entitled "Neue Bahnen," published shortly afterward (October
23, 1853) in the Leipsic "Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik," which started
Brahms on his musical career. It is doubtful if up to that time any
article had made such a sensation throughout musical Germany. I remember
how utterly the Liszt circle in Weimar were astounded. This letter was
at first, doubtless, an obstacle in the way of Brahms, but as it
resulted in stirring up great rivalry between two opposing parties it
eventually contributed much to his final success.
"LOHENGRIN" FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LEIPSIC
Liszt never questioned Wagner's sincerity. He considered "Lohengrin"
Wagner's greatest work up to the time at which it was composed. It was
dedicated to Liszt, and, as Raff told me, the good man could not
conceive that Wagner would dedicate anything but his best and greatest
to his friend and champion, such was Liszt's faith in the struggling
composer whose cause he had made his own.[1]
On the occasion of the first performance of a Wagner opera in any
neighboring town, a delegation from Weimar was apt to be on hand for the
purpose of making propaganda; and this was the case on Saturday, January
7, 1854, when the opera of "Lohengrin" was given in Leipsic for the
first time.
We boys were demonstrative claqueurs, and almost always succeeded in
making a sensation, especially in a town like Leipsic, where we had
acquaintances among the Conservatory students and could get them to help
us.
The general public and a large majority of the musicians were not at
all favorably disposed toward Wagner's music in those days, and in this
connection a remark of Joachim Raff made to me in 1879-80, on the
occasion of my second visit to Germany, was significant. Raff had been
in earlier years, perhaps, the most ardent of all pioneers in the Wagner
cause. A quarter of a century had elapsed since I had seen Raff, and
naturally one of my first questions was, "Raff, how is the Wagner
cause?" "Oh," said he, "the public have gone 'way over to the other
extreme. You know how hard it was to force Wagner upon them twenty-five
years ago, and now they go just as much too far the other way and are
unreasonable in their excessive homage." "Well," I replied, "I suppose
the matter will find its level and be adjusted as time passes on."
After the performance of "Lohengrin," which, by the way, was successful,
the whole Liszt party, by invitation, went to supper at the house of the
concertmeister, Ferdinand David. Quite a number of other guests were
present. Among them I remember with pleasure my Boston friends and
fellow-townsmen Charles C. Perkins and J. C. D. Parker, who were
temporarily located in Leipsic, pursuing their musical studies.
Brahms also was present, and during the evening he played the Andante
from his "F Minor Sonata, Op. 5."
IN STUTTGART--HOTEL MARQUAND
NOT long after my visit to Raff in 1879-80 I went on a pleasure trip to
Stuttgart, and on account of old associations stopped at the Hotel
Marquand. One of the objects of my visit was to meet again my old Weimar
fellow-pupil Dionys Pruckner, at that time eminent among the staff of
pianoforte teachers in the famous Stuttgart Conservatory of Music.
Alighting at the hotel, I was impressed with the marks of consideration
shown to me by the hotel porter. He was so very attentive that I was
somewhat puzzled. The explanation was apparent the next day when he
respectfully inquired if I was the kapellmeister of New York! He had
read the name and address on one of my trunks and jumped at conclusions.
I told him that I was not that individual, and explained that in New
York no such office existed, although the title might be with propriety
applied to the conductor of the Philharmonic Society. However, the idea
found a lodgment in his head, quite to my advantage, as evidenced by the
many attentions he paid to me throughout my stay.
THE SCHUMANN "FEIER" IN BONN, 1880
Over a quarter of a century elapsed after my first meeting with Brahms
before I saw him again, and then the meeting occurred at Bonn on the
Rhine, on May 3, 1880. He was there, in company with Joachim and other
artists, to take part in the ceremonies attendant on the unveiling of
the Schumann _Denkmal_.
There were also musical performances, and at a morning recital of
chamber-music the program consisted solely of Schumann's works, vocal
and instrumental, with the addition of the Brahms "Violin Concerto,"
played by Joachim. The concluding number was Schumann's "Piano Quartet
in E Flat Major, Op. 47," Brahms playing the piano part, and Joachim,
Heckmann, and Bellman playing respectively violin, viola, and
violoncello.
BRAHMS'S PIANOFORTE-PLAYING
The pianoforte-playing of Brahms was far from being finished or even
musical. His tone was dry and devoid of sentiment, his interpretation
inadequate, lacking style and contour. It was the playing of a composer,
and not that of a virtuoso. He paid little if any attention to the marks
of expression as indicated by Schumann in the copy. This was especially
and painfully apparent in the opening measures of the first movement.
This introductory passage is marked, "Sostenuto assai," followed by the
main movement marked, "Allegro ma non troppo." Instead of accommodating
himself to the quiet and subdued nature of the introduction, the
pianist quite ignored Schumann's esthetic directions, and began with a
vigorous attack, which was sustained throughout the movement. The
continued force and harshness of his tone quite overpowered the stringed
instruments. As an ensemble the performance was not a success.
On going home to dinner, and learning that Brahms was stopping at the
hotel, I gave my card to the porter, with instructions to deliver it to
Brahms as soon as he came in. When about half-way through the table
d'hote the porter entered and said that Brahms was in the outer hall,
waiting to see me. He was very cordial. At the moment I had quite
forgotten that I had met him at David's house in Leipsic, so I said:
"The last time I met you was in Weimar on that very hot day in June,
1853; do you remember it?"
"Very well indeed, and I am glad to see you again. Just now my time is
very much engaged, but we are going up the river on a picnic this
afternoon--Joachim and others; will you come along? We are going to a
summer restaurant on the Rhine, where they have excellent beer, and it
will be _ganz gemuetlich_."
I regretted extremely that I had to forego the pleasure of this
excursion, and fully realized the opportunity I was losing; but my
party--there were four of us, my wife and I and two children--had
previously arranged our plans, and in order to make connections we were
obliged to go on to Cologne that day.
Here was a companion-piece to the disappointment occasioned by my having
to forego the pleasure and profit of a foot-tramp through the Tyrol with
Richard Wagner, as already related in these "Memories." But so the Fates
ordained.
Partly on account of the untoward Weimar incident, and partly for the
sake of his own individuality, I took a peculiar interest in Brahms. His
work is wonderfully condensed, his constructive power masterly. By his
scholarly development of themes through augmentation, diminution,
inversion, imitation, and other devices, he seems to be introducing new
thematic material, while the fact is, as will be seen on close
investigation, that he is presenting the original theme in varied form
and shape, and gradually unfolding and expanding its possibilities to
the uttermost. In other words, his treatment is exhaustive and complete.
In his later piano compositions this is readily apparent, and as these
pieces are short, and at the same time complete in form, they furnish
excellent opportunities to the student for analytical studies. In all
that relates to the intellectual faculty Brahms is indisputably a
master. I find this to be the consensus of opinion among intelligent
musicians. But there are differences of opinion as regards his emotional
susceptibilities, and it is just this fact that prevents many from fully
accepting him. The emotional and intellectual should be in equipoise in
order to attain the highest results, but in the music of Brahms the
latter seems to predominate. In sympathetic and affectionate treatment,
so far as relates to his piano composition, he does not compare with
Chopin.
A HISTORICAL ERROR CORRECTED
I have read in a recent number of a musical magazine the following
sentence: "We have seen with what ardor the first compositions of this
serious young man [Brahms] were greeted by Schumann and Liszt."
I have already mentioned the fact that all of the published accounts of
the first meeting of Liszt and Brahms were far from accurate, and in
fact convey an impression directly opposite to the truth; and the
foregoing statement, according to my belief, is just as far from being
in accordance with the facts. I am quite sure that Liszt was not
enthusiastic about Brahms at the time of the first interview in Weimar
heretofore described, and the letter received from my friend Karl
Klindworth, in Berlin, sustains me in this belief. Liszt was of too
kindly a disposition to treasure up animosity against Brahms on account
of the mishap on that occasion; but the fact that Brahms was put forward
by the anti-Wagnerites as their champion may possibly have influenced
him somewhat. A coolness also sprang up between Joachim and Liszt,
although during my stay in Weimar the violinist had been welcomed so
frequently at the Altenburg. During the entire career of Brahms he and
Joachim were close friends.
MORE ABOUT LISZT'S WONDERFUL SIGHT-READING
Liszt's playing of the Brahms scherzo was a remarkable feat, but he was
constantly doing almost incredible things in the way of reading at
sight. Another instance of his skill in this direction occurs to me and
is well worthy of mention.
Raff had composed a sonata for violin and pianoforte in which there were
ever-varying changes in measure and rhythm; measures of 7/8, 7/4, 5/4,
alternated with common and triple time, and seemed to mix together
promiscuously and without regard to order. Notwithstanding this apparent
disorder, there was an undercurrent, so to speak, of the ordinary 3/4 or
4/4 time, and to the player who could penetrate the rhythmic mask the
difficulty of performance quickly vanished. Raff had arranged with Laub
and Pruckner that they should practise the sonata together, and then, on
a favorable occasion, play it in Liszt's presence. So on one of the
musical mornings at the Altenburg these gentlemen began to play the
sonata. Pruckner, of sensitive and nervous organization, found the
changes of measure too confusing, especially when played before company,
and broke down at the first page. Another and yet a third attempt was
made, but with the like result. Liszt, whose interest was aroused,
exclaimed: "I wonder if I can play that!" Then, taking his place at the
instrument, he played it through at sight in rapid tempo and without the
slightest hesitation. He had intuitively divined the regularity of
movement which lay beneath the surface.
LISZT'S MOMENTS OF CONTRITION
Deep beneath the surface there was in Liszt's organization a religions
trend which manifested itself openly now and then, and there were
occasions upon which his contrition displayed itself to an inordinate
degree. Joachim Raff, long his intimate friend and associate, told me
that these periods were sometimes of considerable duration, and while
they lasted he would seek solitude, and going frequently to church,
would throw himself upon the flagstones before a _Muttergottesbild_, and
remain for hours, as Raff expressed it, so deeply absorbed as to be
utterly unconscious of events occurring in his presence.
[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH OF VIEUXTEMPS]
Rubinstein also told me that on one occasion he had been a witness of
such an act on the part of Liszt. One afternoon at dusk they were
walking together in the cathedral at Cologne, and quite suddenly
Rubinstein missed Liszt, who had disappeared in a mysterious way. He
searched for quite a while through the many secluded nooks and corners
of the immense building, and finally found Liszt kneeling before a
_prie-dieu_, so deeply engrossed that Rubinstein had not the heart to
disturb him, and so left the building alone.
PETER CORNELIUS
Sometime, I think late, in 1853 Peter Cornelius, nephew of the
celebrated painter of that name, and composer of the comic opera "The
Barber of Bagdad," came to Weimar and was added to the Altenburg circle.
He was well known and highly esteemed by musicians, and as he was always
cheery and bubbling over with musical enthusiasm, I at once became very
fond of him as a friend, and later on paid due homage to his decided
talent as a composer. As an illustration of how easy it is to underrate
the abilities of a new acquaintance the following incident is both
interesting and instructive. In October, 1853, or thereabouts, quite a
large musical festival took place in Karlsruhe, which was under the
general direction of Liszt, who also conducted the orchestra. It goes
without saying that under the management of Liszt a number of selections
from the Wagner operas were played, and one of these happened to be the
bridal chorus from "Lohengrin." Wagner at that time was an entirely new
experience to Cornelius, and after the concert, while speaking to Liszt
of the beauty of Wagner's music, he instanced this bright and pretty
melody, emphasizing its beauty as though it were the special object of
his admiration. We boys, while we recognized the beauty of the bridal
march and its fitness for the place in which it occurs, were apt to
coddle ourselves upon our superior knowledge of Wagner, and would have
saved our enthusiasm for the more completed and distinctly Wagnerian
characteristics. The enthusiasm of Cornelius for the purely melodic
phrases of Wagner, which were in no wise characteristic of his genius,
rather led us to look down upon the musical perceptions of Cornelius--or
perhaps I should speak only for myself and give these as my personal
impressions; but it was not long before his great talent was duly
recognized and acknowledged, at least by musicians. Cornelius was a
charming fellow, and I enjoyed his society because he was so
enthusiastically and intensely musical.
SOME FAMOUS VIOLINISTS
I have already mentioned in these papers my meeting with Joachim in
Leipsic in the year 1849. He was then about eighteen years of age and
already famous as a violinist. He was of medium height, had broad, open
features, and a heavy shock of dark hair somewhat like that of
Rubinstein. I had a letter of introduction to him, which I presented a
short time after my arrival in Leipsic, and received immediately a
return call from him. He was kind and affable, and easy to become
acquainted with, but owing to diffidence on my part I did not improve
the opportunity as I should have done, a circumstance which I now much
regret. He played the Mendelssohn concerto in one of the Gewandhaus
concerts within a month of my arrival at Leipsic, and I heard him then
for the first time, and was much impressed by his beautiful performance.
Subsequently, when in Weimar, I had the pleasure of meeting him on many
occasions, for he was in the habit of going there not infrequently, and
would sometimes take part in the Altenburg private musicales, as well as
in the public concerts at the theater.