head waiter came to me, saying that a young man who had just arrived was
in the cafe inquiring for Liszt and seemed disappointed on learning of
his absence. "I told him," said the waiter, "that you were the only one
of the family here. Will you see him?" I assented, and in a few moments
he ushered in a young man about twenty-four years of age, of strong
features and with a great shock of dark hair, who introduced himself as
Anton Rubinstein. I explained to him that Liszt had gone away for three
or four days to conduct a festival, that I could not say precisely when
he would return; but in the meantime, if I could make him feel at home,
I should be very glad.
After some conversation he asked me to play. I remember very well how he
looked sitting on the sofa, and the position of the piano in the room. I
played, but he did not. I had a suspicion that he was inveigling me into
playing without any intention of allowing me to take his measure. He sat
there like a gruff Russian bear; or perhaps my imagination helped to
produce this impression.
Rubinstein was already quite well known as a child prodigy, but of
course not nearly so famous as he afterward became. I do not recollect
paying him very much attention during Liszt's absence, but, then, he did
not allow me--he was rambling about all the time; nor did I hear him
play before Liszt came back. When Liszt returned, Rubinstein was
immediately invited to take up his residence on the Altenburg. I
remember that there, one afternoon, he played many of his own
compositions. His playing was full of rush and fire, and characterized
by strong emotional temperament. He had a big technic and reveled in
dash and fire. Those who heard Mark Hambourg here during the winter of
1899-1900 can form a very good idea of Rubinstein's personal appearance
at the time of which I write, and also his very pronounced style of
playing. His early touch lacked the mellow and tender beauty of tone
which distinguished it in later years.
RUBINSTEIN'S OPPOSITION TO WAGNER
Rubinstein's well-known dislike of Wagner, it seems to me, was
temperamental in a large degree, and it was quite natural that he was
not in agreement with him. Doubtless Chopin would not have approved of
Wagner's music, whatever he might have thought of his method. The
melodies of Chopin and Rubinstein are full of sentiment and well
defined, and their compositions run in entirely opposite channels from
those of Wagner, whose music is a vast sensuous upheaval, which
proceeds uninterruptedly from the beginning of an act to the end.
All musicians have a good deal of self-esteem. Rubinstein had his own
way of composing, which corresponded to his musical temperament. He had
to write everything just as it suited his musical ear, and he could not
conceive of any one else having as fine a musical ear as he. At all
events, he never stopped long enough to find out if any one else had.
Few musicians do. Liszt was fond of Rubinstein, and used to call him the
"young Beethoven," on account of a certain fancied resemblance he bore
to the great composer. He also recognized Rubinstein's great ability as
a pianist, although I think that as a player he rated Tausig much
higher. Many years after I left Weimar a relative of mine met Liszt in
Rome. She had a short time previous to this heard Rubinstein in concert,
and was in a state of great enthusiasm about his playing, and so
expressed herself to Liszt. His sole comment was, "Have you ever heard
Tausig?" The inference was that those who had heard Rubinstein and not
Tausig had missed hearing the greater of the two. I think Liszt regarded
Tausig as the best of all his pupils.
As I have said once before in these pages, I never saw Liszt after
leaving Weimar in July, 1854. I occasionally received letters from
him--several of them quite long and exceedingly entertaining. One of
these (the original in French) is reproduced here because it is
characteristic of his pleasantry and good humor:
MY DEAR MASON: Although I do not know at what stage of your
brilliant artistic peregrinations these lines will reach you, I
feel assured that you are not ignorant that I am very, very
sincerely and affectionately obliged to you for keeping me in kind
remembrance, a fact to which the musical journals which you have
sent me bear good witness. The "Musical Gazette" of New York has in
particular given me genuine satisfaction, not alone on account of
the agreeable and flattering things concerning me personally which
it contains, but furthermore because this journal seems to me to
inculcate an excellent and superior direction of opinion in your
country. As you know, my dear Mason, I have no other self-interest
than to serve the good cause of art so far as is possible, and
wherever I find men who are making conscientious efforts in the
same direction, I rejoice and am strengthened by the good example
which they give me. Be so good as to present to your brother, the
head editor of the "Musical Review", as I suppose, my very sincere
thanks and compliments. If he would like to receive some
communication from Weimar upon matters of interest which occur in
the musical world of Germany, I will willingly have them sent to
him through the medium of Mr. Pohl, who, by the way, does not live
any longer at Dresden, where the numbers of the "Musical Gazette"
were addressed by mistake, but at Weimar in the Kaufstrasse. His
wife, one of the best harpists that I know, stands among the
virtuosos of our "Chapelle", and is an important factor in the
representation of the opera, as also in concerts.
Apropos of concerts, in a few days I will send you the program of a
series of symphonic performances, which ought to have been
established here several years ago, and to which I consider it an
honor and a duty to give definite encouragement from the year 1855.
I expect Berlioz toward the end of January. We shall then hear his
trilogy "L'Enfance du Christ", of which you already know "La Fuite
en Egypte". To this he has added two other short oratorios, "Le
Songe d'Herode" and "L'Arrivee a Sais".
The dramatic symphony "Faust" (in four parts, with solos and
choruses) will also be given in full during his stay here.
In regard to visits from artists who have been personally agreeable
to me during the last month, I would name Clara Schumann and
Litolff.
In Brendel's journal, "Neue Zeitschrift", you will find an article
signed with my name, on Mme. Schumann, whom I have again heard with
that sympathy and absolute admiration which her talent compels.
As for Litolff, I confess that he has made a very vivid impression
on me. His fourth concerto symphony (manuscript) is a very
remarkable composition, and he played it in so masterly a manner,
with such verve, with such boldness and certainty, that I derived
intense pleasure from it.
If there was a little of the quadruped in the amazing execution of
Dreyschock (and this comparison should not vex him; is not the lion
classed among quadrupeds as well as the poodle?), in that of
Litolff, there is certainly something _winged_; moreover, he has
all the superiority over Dreyschock that a biped having ideas,
imagination, and sensibility has over another biped which imagines
itself possessed of all this wealth--often very embarrassing!
Do you continue your familiar intercourse with the Old Cognac in
the New World, my dear Mason? Let me again commend _measure_ to
you, an essential quality for musicians. In truth, I am not too
well qualified to extol the _quantity_ of this _quality_, for, if I
remember rightly, I have often employed tempo rubato when I was
giving my concerts (work which I would not begin again for anything
in the world), and even quite recently I have written a long
symphony in three parts, called "Faust" (without text or vocal
parts), in which the _horrible_ measures 7/8, 7/4, 5/4 alternate
with common time and 3/4. By virtue of which I conclude that you
should be satisfied with 7/8 of a little bottle of old cognac in
the evening, and never exceed five quarts!
Raff, in his first volume of "Wagner Frage", has thoroughly
realized something like _five quarts_ of doctrinal sufficiency, but
that is an unadvisable example to copy in a critical matter, and
above all in the matter of cognac and other spirits!
My dear Mason, excuse these bad jokes, justified only by my good
intentions; that you may bear yourself valiantly, physically and
morally, is the most cordial wish of
Your very friendly affectionate
F. LISZT.
WEIMAR, December 14, 1854.
You did not know Rubinstein in Weimar?[2] He spent some time here,
and was conspicuously different from the opaque mass of self-styled
_composer-pianists_ who do not even know what it is to play the
piano, still less with what fuel it is necessary to heat one's self
in order to compose, so that with what they lack in talent for
composition they fancy themselves pianists, and vice versa.
Rubinstein will publish forthwith about fifty
compositions--concertos, trios, symphonies, songs, light pieces,
etc., which deserve notice.
Laub has left Weimar. Ed. Singer takes his place in our orchestra.
The latter gives much pleasure here, and is pleased himself also.
Cornelius, Pohl, Raff, Pruckner, Schreiber, and all the new school
of the new Weimar send you their friendliest greetings, to which I
add a hearty _shake-hand_.
F. L.
Other letters received from Liszt are perhaps not very important, but
with one exception never having been published before, they are printed
in the Appendix.
[Illustration: Autograph of Ferdinand Laub]
Pupils of Liszt and Thalberg and their pupils in search of an
entertaining diversion may amuse themselves by tracing their
musical pedigree back to Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, and thus lay claim
to very distinguished ancestry, as shown in the following table:
Liszt, Franz, born Oct. 22, 1811.
Czerny, Carl, born Feb. 21, 1791.
Beethoven, Ludwig van, born Dec. 16, 1770.
Neefe, Christian G., born Feb. 5, 1748.
Hiller, Johann A., born Dec. 25, 1728.
Homilius, G. A., born Feb. 2, 1714.
Bach, Johann Sebastian, born March 21, 1685.
Thalberg, Sigismond, born Jan. 7, 1812.
Hummel, J. N., born Nov. 14, 1778.
Mozart, Wolfgang A., born Jan. 27, 1756.
If there be any whose pride is not sufficiently nourished by this
display, they may go still further and show, by authentic records, a
descent through Bach from Josquin Desprez, the most eminent
contrapuntist of the Netherlands school, who lived about 1450-1521.
During the winter of 1879-80, which I spent at Wiesbaden on account of
ill health, I received a very cordial invitation to visit Liszt at
Weimar some time in July, and made plans to do so, which were
frustrated, however, through unforeseen circumstances. Bulow, when on
his first visit here, in 1875, told me that the old charm had entirely
passed away. The "Golden Time" was among the things that were.
The last message I had from Liszt was brought to me by Mr. Louis
Geilfuss of Steinway & Sons, who met Liszt in one of the streets of
Bayreuth only a few days before his death, which occurred somewhat
unexpectedly on July 31, 1886.
AT WORK IN AMERICA
When I returned from Europe in 1854 my parents had moved from Boston,
and were living at Orange, New Jersey.
On landing in New York, I hurried to Boston, and went immediately to the
house of Mr. Webb. This had been my constant purpose ever since the time
I left America in 1849. In due course Miss Webb and I became engaged,
and were married on March 12, 1857.
My first enterprise after returning from Germany was a concert tour.
This I believe to have been the first exclusively pianoforte recital
tour ever undertaken in this country. Gottschalk, who was here at that
time, had traveled about giving concerts, but he was never without a
singer or associate of some kind.
In 1863 I had attended a recital given in Frankfort, Germany, by
Ferdinand Hiller, the program of which consisted exclusively of his own
compositions, concluding with a free improvisation on themes suggested
by the audience. My recitals were fashioned after this, only I played
very few of my own pieces. The programs were somewhat similar to those
of the present time, ranging from Beethoven and Chopin to Liszt. At that
time Bach's name, according to my recollection, was never seen on a
pianoforte-recital program. A large number of these compositions, such
as Liszt's "Twelfth Rhapsody" and Chopin's "Fantasie Impromptu," were
played for the first time in this country at these concerts.
TOURING THE COUNTRY
My friend Oliver Dyer managed the tour. My brothers Daniel and Lowell
were at this time booksellers and publishers in New York, under the
firm-name of Mason Brothers, and Mr. Dyer was connected with them in
business. He was a man of action, and possessed good literary ability.
He had lived for a time in Washington as reporter of speeches made in
Congress, and later on he was connected with Robert Bonner on the
"Ledger".
He arranged a pamphlet in which he set forth and doubtless embellished
the facts connected with my sojourn in Germany and the favor with which
my playing had been received. When, in the course of our tour, we
arrived at a town where a lecture was to be given,--not an uncommon
occurrence,--he would take down the lecture stenographically and write
notices of it for the local papers. The editors appreciated this favor,
and were so kindly disposed toward us that they would print any advance
notices he chose to write about me. In what he wrote of me, however, I
was not willing to have him go to extremes, though he would frequently
slip something into the paper without my knowledge, leaving me to find
fault with him the next day.
All along the route it was difficult to persuade people that an
entertainment of pianoforte-playing exclusively could be made
interesting. They had never heard of such a thing, and insisted that
there ought to be some singing for the sake of variety. We stopped in
Albany, Troy, Utica, and many other places on the way to Chicago, where
I gave two concerts, one of which took place on New Year's eve. After
the concert I attended a large reception given in a private residence. I
remember being struck by the fact, as it seemed to me, that there were
so many young ladies at this reception, and I asked the hostess if there
were no married ladies in Chicago. "Why, Mr. Mason," she replied, "there
are only two or three unmarried ladies in the room." At that period
Chicago was full of young men who had come from the Eastern States,
principally New England. After staying in Chicago for two or three years
and getting well started in business they would get married, many of
them going to their native places for their brides. This accounted for
the youthful appearance of the assemblage, and illustrates in part the
very rapid growth of Chicago.
Up to the time we arrived in Chicago we had rainy weather constantly,
and partly on this account we were out of pocket. Dyer was for going
back to New York by the quickest route. I said: "No; I am going back
through the same towns, and shall give concerts in every one of them. If
the people liked my playing well enough they will come again and bring
their neighbors. If they did not like it, I shall soon find it out." As
it turned out, I had much larger audiences all the way home.
"YANKEE DOODLE" AND "OLD HUNDRED"
Copying the custom of Ferdinand Hiller, I used to close my concerts by
an improvisation upon themes suggested by the audience. All sorts of
themes were put into the hat--from Mozart, Beethoven, "Jordan is a hard
road to travel," "We won't go home till morning," and many negro
melodies. I had a faculty of developing a subject in such a way as to
hold my audience.
One night somebody sent up the request that I should play simultaneously
"Old Hundred" with one hand and "Yankee Doodle" with the other. This I
did, merely to show that even two such dis-similar melodies could be
played together in a musical way. There was a good deal of applause, but
also considerable hissing from the religions element, so I made a speech
explaining that I meant no disrespect to "Old Hundred" by placing it in
such close connection with "Yankee Doodle," and that the melody which
had to a certain extent been adopted as a national air was on that
account worthy of being played with any hymn.
Fifteen years later, in 1870, George F. Root, who had assisted my father
in his musical convention work in the East, but who had settled in
Chicago and was doing the same kind of pioneer work in the West, was
holding a summer musical convention in South Bend, Indiana. He wished to
introduce piano as well as vocal teaching, and invited me to take
charge of the piano classes. It was a fearfully hot summer, and during
the month I was in South Bend the temperature was continuously close to
100 deg.. Toward the close of the season concerts were given, and it was so
hot that in lieu of a dress-coat I wore a linen duster, cut off at the
waist.
At the last concert I received a request from two or three people to
play "Yankee Doodle" with one hand and "Old Hundred" with the other.
Possibly they had heard me do so in 1855. Remembering my experience
then, I made a few remarks, in which I told them that some little
feeling had been created fifteen years before by my doing the same
thing, but that--and here I got a little mixed--in playing "Yankee
Doodle" with "Old Hundred" I did not intend any disrespect to "Yankee
Doodle." At this the audience began to laugh. Schuyler Colfax, who was
then Vice-President of the United States, was on the stage behind me,
and I could hear him chuckling. I thought to myself, "Well, I have made
some funny mistake, though I don't know what it is, so I won't go back
and try to correct it."
Afterward Mr. Colfax, who was a noted speaker, told me that whenever he
made a _lapsus linguae_, if it amused the audience he never attempted to
correct it.
On my return from this concert tour to New York, I established the
series of chamber-music concerts which, begun as an experiment,
continued thirteen years. I also settled down as a teacher. While I had
returned from Weimar with the full intention of continuing my career as
a piano-virtuoso, and while my concert tour had been promising enough, I
found that the public demanded a constant repetition of pieces to which
it happened to take a liking, and I knew that I should soon weary of
playing the same things over and over again. Moreover, I felt that from
my father I had inherited a certain capacity for giving instruction, and
that the chamber-music concerts and engagements with the Philharmonic
and at other concerts in New York and elsewhere would serve to keep up
my practice as a virtuoso.
SETTLING DOWN TO TEACH
In 1855 I accepted as pupils some four or five young ladies who were
being educated at a fashionable boarding-school in New York. One of
these girls was very bright and intelligent but without special musical
talent. She was extremely averse to application in study, and the
problem for me was to invent some way by which mental concentration
could be compelled, for from the moment she sat down to the piano to
practise she was constantly looking at the clock to see if her
practice-hour was up. After a little study I found that in playing a
scale up one octave and back, without intermission, in 9/8 time, there
are necessarily nine repetitions of the scale before the initial tone
falls again on the first part of the measure. Thus,
[Illustration: musical notation]
and so on until another accent falls upon the initial C. Such an
exercise is called a rhythmus, and the repetitions compel mental
concentration just as surely as the addition of a column of figures
does. I found that if the compass was extended four octaves, thus, from
[Illustration: musical notation]
the nine repetitions of the scale would require from three to four
minutes if played at a moderate rate of speed. I saw at once that a
state of mental concentration could not be avoided by the pupil, and
that in this exercise lay a basic principle. I gave the exercise to my
pupil. The result was that when the next lesson-hour came around and I
asked her how she found the new exercise, she exclaimed: "How do I like
it? Why, you have played a pretty trick on me! It took me nearly an hour
to accomplish it; but I like it. Why did you not give it to me before!"
"Because," I said, "I invented it simply in order to compel your
attention to your work." Following up the principle of grouping the
tones, I applied the rhythmic process not only to all sorts of scale
passages, but included in the treatment arpeggios, broken chords,
octaves, and in fact all passages idiomatic of the pianoforte. The work
of amplification was readily accomplished, and the result was a complete
method in which for the first time, so far as I am aware, scientific
rhythmic treatment was elaborated. This "Accentual Treatment of
Exercises," as I called the system, was first published in the Mason &
Hoadley Method, New York, 1867. The importance of accentual treatment is
now recognized in every modern method.
The idea of starting a series of matinees of chamber-music occurred to
me. I wished especially to introduce to the public the "Grand Trio in B
Major, Op. 8," by Johannes Brahms, and to play other concerted works,
both classical and modern, for this kind of work interested me more than
mere piano-playing. So I asked Carl Bergmann, who was the most noted
orchestral conductor of those days, and thus well acquainted with
musicians, to get together a good string quartet. This he accomplished
in a day or two, and made me acquainted with Theodore Thomas, first
violin; Joseph Mosenthal, second violin; and George Matzka, viola,
Bergmann himself being the violoncellist. We very soon began rehearsing,
and our first concert, or rather matinee, took place in Dodworth's Hall,
opposite Eleventh street, and one door above Grace Church in Broadway.
The program was as follows:
Tuesday, November 27, 1855
1. Quartet in D Minor, Strings _Schubert_
2. Romance from Tannhaeuser,
"Abendstern" _Wagner_
3. Pianoforte Solo, Fantasie Impromptu,
Op. 66 (first time) _Chopin_
Deux Preludes, D flat and G,
Op. 24 _Heller_
4. Variations Concertante for
Violoncello and Piano, Op. 17 _Mendelssohn_
5. "Feldwaerts flog ein Voeglein" _Nicolai_
6. Grand Trio in B Major, Op. 8,
Piano, Violin, and Cello (first
time) _Brahms_
It will be observed that we started out with a novelty, Brahms's Trio,
which was played then for the first time in America. I repeated it in
Boston a few weeks later with the assistance of some members of the
Mendelssohn Quintet Club. It received appreciation on both occasions and
was listened to attentively, but without enthusiasm. The newspapers
spoke well of it in general, but there were some who regarded it as
constrained and unnatural. The vocal pieces were inserted in deference
to the prevailing idea of the period that no musical entertainment could
be enjoyed by the public without some singing. We quickly got over that
notion, and thenceforth, with rare exceptions, our programs were
confined to instrumental music.
It was my purpose in organizing these concerts to make a point of
producing chamber-work, which had never before been heard here,
especially those of Schumann and other modern writers.
THEODORE THOMAS AT TWENTY
The organization as originally formed would probably have remained
intact during all the years the concerts lasted had it not become
apparent almost from the start that Theodore Thomas had in him the
genius of conductorship. He possessed by nature a thoroughly musical
organization and was a born conductor and leader.
Before we had been long together it became apparent that there was more
or less friction between Thomas and Bergmann, who, being the conductor
of the Germania and afterward of the Philharmonic orchestras, also a
player of long experience and the organizer of the quartet, naturally
assumed the leadership in the beginning. The result was that Bergmann
withdrew after the first year, and Bergner, a fine violoncellist and
active member of the Philharmonic Society, took his place. The
organization was then called the Mason and Thomas Quartet, and so styled
it won a wide reputation throughout the country. I should say in passing
that Bergmann was an excellent though not a great conductor.
[Illustration: THE MASON-THOMAS QUARTET
MATZKA, MOZENTHAL, BERGNER, THOMAS, MASON]