famous violinists, Vieuxtemps, Ole Bull, and Sivori, who came to Boston
and played many times both in public and in private. They were all great
players, each having his special individuality. Vieuxtemps and Ole Bull
I met several times in later years, and became familiar with their
playing. Vieuxtemps came to Weimar and played both in private and in
public. His playing was wonderfully precise and accurate, every tone
receiving due attention, and his phrasing was delightful. Scale and
arpeggio passages were absolutely clean and without a flaw. He was
certainly a player of exquisite taste, and he still preserved his
characteristics when I heard him years later, in 1853 at Weimar, and in
1873 at New York. Ole Bull came to Boston a year or so after Vieuxtemps.
He was a born violinist, and developed after his own fashion and nature,
in the manner of a genius. Vieuxtemps was the result of scientific
training and close adherence to well-founded principles. Ole Bull, on
the other hand, was a law unto himself, and burst out into full blossom
without showing the various degrees of growth. He did not realize the
importance of close attention to detail while in the course of
development.
Sivori was of the gentle, poetic, and graceful class of players. Beauty
and grace rather than self-assertion characterized his style. Ernst,
whom I heard in Homburg in the year 1852, was a player of great
intensity of feeling, and was regarded as the most fervent violinist of
his time. Joachim's style impressed me as classical and rather reserved,
and while I enjoyed and admired it, there was present no feeling of
enthusiasm. Wilhelmj, with his broad and noble style, was certainly most
impressive. Henri Wieniawski had a musical organization of great
intensity, and this, combined with his perfect technic, made his playing
irresistible. Ferdinand Laub, for some reason not so well known to the
general public as he should be, is generally conceded by the most
distinguished violinists to have been the greatest of all
quartet-players. Laub was concertmeister during the whole period of my
stay in Weimar, and was an intimate friend of mine. It will be
remembered that at that time Bernhard Cossmann was the violoncellist of
the Weimar string quartet. I owe many delightful moments of musical
enjoyment to his exquisitely poetical and refined playing. The last time
I met him was at his own house in Frankfort. His wife and children
were present, and being thus quite _en famille_, we played together, for
the sake of old times, the piano and violoncello sonata of Beethoven in
A major.
[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH OF OLE BULL]
There are many others whom I am prevented by lack of space from
mentioning; but I must not omit the name of my friend Adolf Brodsky, a
violinist of the first rank, and a man of great nobility of character.
His playing is broad, intelligent, and thoroughly musical, whether as
soloist or as first violin in chamber quartet music. Sometimes I have
heard him in the privacy of my own home, where, feeling entire freedom
from restraint, he has thrown himself intensely into his music, to my
thorough and complete musical satisfaction.
REMENYI
I have already had something to say of Eduard Remenyi, the Hungarian
violinist who accompanied Brahms to Weimar in 1853. He was a talented
man, and was esteemed by Liszt as being, in his way, a good violinist.
He remained at Weimar after Brahms left there, and I became intimately
acquainted with him. He was very entertaining, and so full of fun that
he would have made a tiptop Irishman. He was at home in the Gipsy music
of his own country, and this was the main characteristic of his playing.
He had also a fad for playing Schubert melodies on the violin with the
most attenuated pianissimo effects, and occasionally his hearers would
listen intently after the tone had ceased, imagining that they still
heard a trace of it.
Not long before leaving Weimar I had some fun with him by asking if he
had ever heard "any bona-fide American spoken." He replied that he did
not know there was such a language. "Well," said I, "listen to this for
a specimen: 'Ching-a-ling-a-dardee, Chebung cum Susan.'" I did not meet
him again until 1878, twenty-four years after leaving Weimar. I was
going up-stairs to my studio in the Steinway building when some one
told me that Remenyi had arrived and was rehearsing for his concerts in
one of the rooms above. So, going up, I followed the sounds of the
violin, gave a quick knock, opened the door, and went in. Remenyi looked
at me for a moment, rushed forward and seized my hand, and as he wrung
it cried out: "Ching-a-ling-a-dardee, Chebung cum Susan!" He had
remembered it all those years.
SOME DISTINGUISHED OPERA-SINGERS
My concert-playing and teaching have naturally made me more interested
in instrumental than in vocal music. Moreover, the principal celebrities
who came to visit Liszt during my sojourn at Weimar were composers and
instrumentalists. For that reason I met but few distinguished
opera-singers during my stay abroad. However, I heard the best of them
in opera or concert.
In Boston, about the year 1846-47, the Havana Italian Opera gave a
season at the Howard Athenaeum of that city, and created considerable
interest. They gave, I think for the first time in this country, Verdi's
"Ernani," which was received with great favor. The principal soprano was
Mme. Fortunata Tedesco, who was afterward at the Grand Opera in Paris
from 1851 to 1857. The tenor was Signore Perelli, who had an
exceptionally fine voice. Both of these singers had well-trained voices
and were well supported by chorus and orchestra. As this was my first
experience in opera, it produced a deep and lasting impression.
The opera season in Leipsic in the year 1852, beginning about the 1st of
February and continuing up to the 1st of May, was notable, for it
afforded the opportunity of hearing in quick succession three singers of
world-wide reputation: Henriette Sontag, Johanna Wagner, and De la
Grange.
HENRIETTE SONTAG
[Illustration: Autograph of Henriette Sontag]
The singer of whom I have the liveliest impression is Henriette Sontag,
whom I heard in Leipsic on her first appearance after she had been
twenty years in retirement. The interest I took in the occasion was much
increased by the fact that I had a seat next to Moscheles, who was very
communicative, and gave me an interesting history of his long
acquaintance with Sontag, whom he had heard at her last appearance, I
think, before her retirement. He was naturally on the _qui vive_, and
impatiently waited for the opera to begin. Like many of her other old
admirers who were in the theater, he was full of expectancy mingled with
dread of possible failure. She appeared as _Maria_ in Donizetti's "Fille
du Regiment" In this part the voice of the singer is heard before she
appears on the stage, and as soon as Moscheles heard Sontag's voice
trilling behind the scenes, he exclaimed with delight, "It is Sontag!
Nobody I have heard since she left the stage could do that! She is the
same Henriette!"
Some of the roles in which I heard her were _Amina_ in "Sonnambula,"
_Martha_ in the opera of that name, _Susan_ in "The Marriage of Figaro,"
and _Rosina_ in "The Barber of Seville." I enjoyed the lovely feminine
quality of her voice and manner. There was something peculiarly charming
and womanly about her. She sang with unfailing ease and grace, her voice
being so flexible that it sounded like the trilling of birds. The most
difficult roulades and cadences were given with absolute accuracy and
rhythm. It was simply fascinating.
JOHANNA WAGNER
During the month of March of the same year, Johanna Wagner, niece of
Richard Wagner, sang in several operas. Among those in which I heard her
were Bellini's "Romeo and Juliet," as _Romeo_; "Fidelio," as _Leonora_
or _Fidelio_; and "Iphigenia in Aulis," by Gluck, as _Iphigenia_. Here
indeed she was a contrast to Sontag, and in these parts she seemed to me
quite unapproachable. Her voice was large and full, and her acting most
dramatic. Like all the German singers whom I heard, she lacked the
nicety of detail, the clear and beautiful phrasing, characteristic of
the Italians I had heard in Boston. But when I grew to know the German
method, I began to admire it, not so much for the actual singing itself
as for the combination of qualities that entered into it--the artistic
earnestness, the acting, and the musicianship.
MME. DE LA GRANGE
It was my experience that the Germans themselves greatly admired singing
of the Italian school, for when, following Sontag and Wagner, Mme. de la
Grange came the next month and sang an engagement in Leipsic (April and
May, 1852), the management doubled the prices, and, notwithstanding
this, the house was crowded every time she sang. She was in her prime,
and one of the finest singers I ever heard. Her style was brilliant and
dazzling, but never lacking in repose. Her high tones were clear and
musical, without any trace of shrillness, and in the most rapid passages
the tones were never slurred or confused, but distinct and in perfect
rhythmic order. The roles in which she most appealed to me were as
_Queen of the Night_ in "The Magic Flute," by Mozart, and _Rosina_ in
"The Barber of Seville," by Rossini. But she also sang both parts of
_Isabella_ and _Alice_ in Meyerbeer's "Robert the Devil" in the most
admirable manner.
"DER VEREIN DER MURLS"
Liszt was the head and front of the Wagner movement; but except when
visitors came to Weimar and were inveigled into an argument by Raff, who
was an ardent disciple of the new school, there was but little
discussion of the Wagner question. Pruckner started a little society,
the object being to oppose the Philistines, or old fogies, and uphold
modern ideas. Liszt was the head and was called the Padishah (chief),
and the pupils and others, Raff, Bulow, Klindworth, Pruckner, Cornelius,
Laub, Cossmann, etc., were "Murls." In a letter to Klindworth, then in
London, Liszt writes of Rubinstein: "That is a clever fellow, the most
notable musician, pianist, and composer who has appeared to me among the
modern lights--with the exception of the Murls. Murlship alone is
lacking to him still." On the manuscript of Liszt's "Sonate" he himself
wrote, "Fur die Murlbibliothek."
THE WAGNER CAUSE IN WEIMAR
My admiration for Wagner did not go to the extreme of Liszt's and of my
fellow-pupils'. Liszt rarely expressed his opinion of Wagner, because he
took it for granted that everybody knew it, and he was not a
controversialist. I know that he considered those people who refused to
follow Wagner as old fogies, and my colleagues used to twit me for not
being as enthusiastic as they were. Certain passages in his operas have
always given me great musical enjoyment and delight, but here and there
are crudities which, as it seemed to me, were unpardonable in a great
composer. Under these circumstances I could not pose as a genuine Murl,
although this fact did not disturb the genial and fraternal relations
which existed between my colleagues and me; and on occasion also I was
equal to the best of them in exercising the specialty of a genuine Murl
claqueur.
I think that Wagner will always rank among the greatest composers, but
will not always remain as preeminent as he is now in the popular
estimation. Some of his compositions are wonderfully intricate, although
musical, but at times his faults appear and disturb the balance of
things in such a way that the music loses the effect of spontaneity and
becomes forced.
In the Weimar days the general objection of the "old fogies" was that
his music lacked melody. Doubtless by melody they meant the little tunes
of the anti-Wagner period; but the fact is that Wagner has contributed
his share to increasing the scope of melody and enlarging its
boundaries. It may be that he has gone too far in this direction and has
completely obliterated all limitations, thus approaching dangerously
near confusion. It was said that he had no melody, but his scores are
full of it. There are sometimes so many melodies in combination, each
exercising its individuality and proceeding independently, that the
"tune effect" is obscured and lost in the crowd of accompanying tunes.
But to me Wagner's melody seems restless. It comes on suddenly and
progresses without periods of repose. There is almost constant motion,
which produces a feeling of unrest. A sentence must have its commas,
semi-colons, and periods, and punctuation is as necessary in music as it
is in letters.
I have never quite understood just what it is in Wagner's music that so
fascinates many people whom I know to be unmusical.
RAFF IN WEIMAR
Of my Weimar comrades, Joachim Raff, it is hardly necessary to say,
became the most distinguished. My first impression of him was not wholly
favorable. He was hard to become acquainted with and not disposed to
meet one half-way. He was fond of argument, and if one side was taken
he was very apt to take the other. He liked nothing better than to get
one to commit himself to a proposition and then to attack him with all
his resources, which were many. Upon better acquaintance, however, one
found a kind heart and faithful friend whose constancy was to be relied
on. He was very poor, and there were times when he seemed hardly able to
keep body and soul together. Once he was arrested for debt. The room in
which he was confined, however, was more comfortable, if anything, than
his own. He had a piano, a table, music-paper, and pen and ink sent
there. How this was accomplished I do not know, but I think Liszt must
have had a hand in it. Raff enjoyed himself composing and playing, and
we saw to it that he had good fare. The episode made little impression
on him: so long as he could compose he was happy. However, the matter
was compromised, and in a short time he returned to his own lodgings. He
was a hard worker and composed incessantly, with only a brief interval
for dinner and a little exercise. We habitually sat together, and
afterward usually took a short walk. I enjoyed his conversation
exceedingly and derived much profit from it.
At about five o'clock in the afternoon, looking out of my window, I
would frequently see Raff coming over the path leading through the park,
with a bundle of manuscript under his arm. He liked to come and play to
me what he had composed. His playing was not artistic, because he paid
little attention to it, and he did not attempt to elaborate or finish
his style.
He composed very rapidly, and many of his compositions do not amount to
much. He could not get decent remuneration for good music, and he had to
live; therefore he wrote many pieces that were of the jingling sort,
because his publishers paid well for them. Sometimes, however, he turned
out a composition which was really worthy, and among his works are
symphonies, sonatas, trios, and chamber-music which gained him
reputation. His symphony "Im Walde" is well known in the musical world,
and his "Cavatina" for violin, although not a piece of importance, is
one of the most popular and effective violin solos and exists in various
arrangements. At times he was much dejected, and there was a dash of
bitterness in his disposition. I think he felt that, being obliged to
turn out music for a living, he would never attain the rank to which his
talents entitled him.
In promoting the cause of Wagner, Raff did considerable work for which
Liszt got the credit. I think that at one time Raff acted as Liszt's
private secretary; but he had decided ideas of his own, and knew how to
express them. Being generally in close accord with Liszt, and having a
ready pen, he rendered great assistance in promulgating the doctrines of
the new school by means of essays, brochures, and newspaper articles. Of
course much that he wrote was based upon suggestions made by Liszt. Raff
was a tower of strength in himself, while at the same time acting as
Liszt's mouthpiece in the Wagner propaganda.
DR. ADOLF BERNHARD MARX
When Dr. Adolf B. Marx of Berlin was in Weimar in June, 1853, it was by
invitation of Liszt for the purpose of bringing out a new oratorio which
he had just composed. As usual on such occasions, we gave him a warm
reception, and Liszt arranged a midday dinner at the Hotel zum
Erbprinzen, at which some eight or ten guests were present. In the
afternoon we all attended a rehearsal of the oratorio, which lasted from
four o'clock until eleven o'clock P.M. According to my present
recollections, the work did not have a brilliant success. I was reminded
of this event by the receipt of the following letter in March, 1901,
from an old friend, Mr. Adolph Stange, who happened to be present on the
occasion:
SUWALKI, POLAND, RUSSIA,
24 January, 1901.
DEAR DR. MASON: When you wrote your "Memories of a Musical Life,"
July-October, 1900, of Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, you
probably did not have any presentiment that there is in a distant
country, far from you, somebody who only by one day younger than
yourself (born January 25, 1829) will be reading with the greatest
interest your excellent and truthful description of different
musical celebrities and authorities. Being myself for many years a
pupil of Gerke and of Henselt in St. Petersburg, I had been with
many of the eminent men you name personally acquainted; with
Moscheles and Rubinstein I had more often and more intimate
relations, and my delight was naturally great in reading your true
and graphic account of some of my former musical friends. It is
indeed with a feeling of admiration and gratitude that I am now
addressing these lines to its author. Your interesting description
of your stay at Weimar in 1853 gave me special pleasure, as in that
same year, in May, June, and July, I had also been with Liszt in
Weimar, and I remember you, dear Dr. Mason, perfectly, as well as
Klindworth, Pruckner, the two Wieniawskis, Winterberger, Raff, and
others; they are all living in my memory. That period of my youth
is full of the most beautiful and noble impressions.
Your account of that incomparable meister we both, I dare say,
equally admire, awakened in me Liszt's greatness as artist, and
still more, if I may say so, the greatness of his nature and
character, so richly endowed with so many generous and noble
instincts; and I recall with delight to my mind our pleasant walks
in the Schlossgarten, where we visited Klindworth in his modest
apartments; the supper at the Hotel zum Erbprinzen, where Liszt
wished to get acquainted with the card-game "preference," which I
had to show him; our visits to the Schloss, in the ground floor of
which we listened to Liszt's divine playing and afterward got
invited to dine up-stairs with the Princess Wittgenstein and her
charming daughter. I believe you had already left Weimar when
Professor Adolf Marx came from Berlin to visit Liszt and brought
with him the score of his new oratorio. Marx wished to say a few
words about its performance to Liszt before the first rehearsal,
but was much disappointed, as he told me, not to find an
appropriate moment to speak with the meister, whose attention was
constantly taken up by his pupils. On the day of the rehearsal,
Marx, who was sitting next to me, again expressed his regret at not
having found an opportunity to talk the matter over with Liszt.
Shortly after the rehearsal had commenced I felt several times
Marx's elbows, which, giving way to his enthusiasm, came in close
and sensible contact with mine. At last he exclaimed: "Liszt
guesses my most secret thoughts and intentions in my own
composition!" ...
Let me, dear Dr. Mason, assure you what real and intense enjoyment
I experienced by the perusal of your "Musical Memories," and beg
to thank you from all my heart for giving me the possibility of
recalling once over again those dear and ever-present reminiscences
of a bygone but ever-delightful time in my life. It is seldom one
can read in a biography a description like yours, which expresses
in a few words, with so much reality, truthfulness, and
impartiality, the characteristics of a whole series of well-known
artists. Finally, you will ask: "Stranger, who art thou?" I will
not, like _Lohengrin_, make a mystery of it, but answer your
question: I wanted to become what you are now! After my return from
Weimar, however, where I had been for a time Liszt's pupil, I
entered into Russian state service, remaining, nevertheless, during
my whole life, though a dilettante, a great and fervent admirer of
that art, and a real artist in my heart. I sign, with veneration to
your person, Dr. Mason, and have the honor to remain,
Yours very truly,
ADOLPH STANGE.
BERLIOZ IN WEIMAR
[Illustration: Autograph of Hector Berlioz]
Hector Berlioz came to Weimar occasionally, and I remember particularly
one of his visits, which took place in May, 1854. He was famous as
an orchestral conductor, and I saw him in this capacity in a concert the
program of which consisted exclusively of his own compositions. These
were especially attractive on account of their magnificent orchestral
coloring. In this regard he was certainly wonderful, and produced many
gorgeous effects. His masterly skill and intelligence in the treatment
and development of his themes were also everywhere apparent. Every
detail received careful attention, and the result was admirable.
Not long afterward he gave a similar concert in the Leipsic Gewandhaus
Hall, on which occasion the Weimar contingent was of course present.
There was no need of our services as claqueurs, however, for the hall
was crowded and the audience demonstrative.
Schubert was spontaneous and inspired, and thus stands in contrast to
Berlioz. Melody gushed from Schubert at such a rate, and musical ideas
crowded upon each other so rapidly, that he did not take time to work up
his compositions. There are a few which he elaborated with care, but
they are the exceptions, and emphasize the general spontaneity of his
work. If he had constructive power,--and certain passages in his work
show that he had,--he nevertheless failed to make adequate use of it.
His music is charming and delightful on account of its melodious
freshness and naivete. It appeals directly to the heart. The only
drawback is his servile adherence to conventionalities, such, for
instance, as the old method of invariably repeating every section of a
movement.
Beethoven stands as the model of constructive power and emotional
expression in happy equipoise. Both the head and the heart are
satisfactorily employed, and in his orchestral treatment they find full
expression. This is true of all of his concerted works; but his weak
point is manifested in his pianoforte compositions, especially in the
sonatas, which are not idiomatic of the instrument for which they were
written. It is not intended to find fault with the music _per se_. It is
simply to say that his ideas are all orchestrally conceived, and as
they are not in the nature of the pianoforte, that instrument is
inadequate to their true expression. The sonatas are not pianistic,
idiomatic--_klaviermaessig_. Had he written them for orchestra, we would
have had thirty-two symphonies.
Chopin's compositions are the very essence and consummation of the
piano, and he is, therefore, the pianoforte composer _par excellence_.
On the other hand, his orchestral work is weak and incompetent, as, for
example, the accompaniment to his concertos and some other pieces.
Schumann is at home in both directions. He is polyphonic in orchestral
treatment, and at the same time thoroughly pianistic. Without suggesting
comparisons, his music is _musical_ and complete. Beethoven's is heroic.
ENTERTAINING LISZT'S "YOUNG BEETHOVEN"
Liszt sometimes left Weimar for a few days in order to be present at or
to conduct music festivals. On one of these occasions, early in June,
1854, I remained alone at home on account of slight illness. As
Klindworth had gone to London for concert-playing and
pianoforte-teaching, I had moved into a suite of rooms in the Hotel zum
Erbprinzen. As a matter of interest to pianists I here note the fact
that these identical rooms had been occupied by Hummel several years
previously.