SEGHERS
While Delsarte was preparing the way for the old French opera and above
all for Gluck's works, another pioneer of musical evolution was working
to form the taste of the Parisian public, but with an entirely different
power and another effect. Seghers was the man. He played a great rôle
and his memory should be honored.
As his name indicates, Seghers was a Belgian. He started life as a
violinist and was one of Baillot's pupils. His execution was masterly,
his tone admirable, and he had a musical intelligence of the first
order. He had every right to a first rank among _virtuosi_, but this
man, herculean in appearance and tenacious in his purposes, lost all his
power before an audience.
He had a dream of giving to lovers of music the last of Beethoven's
quartets, which were considered at the time both unplayable and
incomprehensible. In the end he planned a series of concerts at which,
despite my age--I was only fifteen--I was to be the regular pianist. He
planned to give in addition to these quartets, some of Bach's sonatas
and Reber's and Schumann's trios. I spoke of this plan to his
mother-in-law one day as she was peacefully embroidering at the window,
and told her how pleased I was at the thought of the concerts.
"Don't count on it too much," she told me. "He'll never give them."
When everything was ready, he invited some thirty people to listen to a
trial performance. It was wretched. All the depth of tone had gone from
his violin as well as the skill from his fingers.... The project was
abandoned.
It was left for Maurin to make something out of these terrible quartets.
Maurin had peculiar gifts. He had a lightness of bow which I have never
seen equalled by anyone and a lightness and charm which enchanted the
public. But I can say in all sincerity that Seghers's execution was even
better. Unfortunately for him I was his only listener.
Madame Seghers was a woman of great beauty, unusually intelligent and
distinguished. She had been one of Liszt's pupils and was a pianist of
first rank. But she was even more timid than her husband--a single
listener was sufficient to paralyze her. When Liszt was teaching Madame
Seghers, he came to appreciate her husband's real worth and entrusted
his daughter's musical education to him. This is sufficient indication
of the esteem in which Liszt held Seghers. So it was not surprising that
he gave me valuable and greatly needed suggestions in regard to style
and the piano itself, for his friendship with Liszt had given him a
thorough understanding of the instrument.
I first saw and heard Liszt at Seghers's house. He had reappeared in
Paris after long years of absence, and by that time he had begun to seem
almost legendary. The story went that since he had become chapel-master
at Weimar he was devoting himself to grand compositions, and, what
appeared unbelievable, "piano music." People who ought to have known
that Mozart was the greatest pianist of his time shrugged their
shoulders at this. As a climax it was insinuated that Liszt was setting
systems of philosophy to music.
I studied Liszt's works with all the enthusiasm of my eighteen years for
I already regarded him as a genius and attributed to him even before I
saw him almost superhuman powers as a pianist. Remarkable to relate he
surpassed the conception I had formed. The dreams of my youthful
imagination were but prose in comparison with the Bacchic hymn evoked by
his supernatural fingers. No one who did not hear him at the height of
his powers can have any idea of his performance.
* * * * *
Seghers was a member of the Société des Concerts at the Conservatoire.
This reached only a restricted public and there was no other symphony
concert worthy of the name in Paris at the time. And if the public was
limited, the repertoire was even more so. Haydn's, Mozart's and
Beethoven's symphonies were played almost exclusively, and Mendelssohn's
were introduced with the greatest difficulty. Only fragments of vast
compositions like the oratorios were given. An author who was still
alive was looked upon as an intruder. However, the conductor was
permitted to introduce a solo of his own selection. Thus my friend
Auguste Tolbecque, who was over eighty, was permitted to give--he still
played beautifully--my first _concerto_ for the violoncello which I had
written for him. Deldevez, the conductor of the famous orchestra at the
time, did not overlook the chance to tell me that he had put my
_concerto_ on the programme only through consideration for Tolbecque.
Otherwise, he added, he would have preferred Messieurs So-and-so's.
Not only did the Conservatoire audiences know little music, but the
larger public knew none at all. The symphonies of the three great
classic masters were known to amateurs for the most part only through
Czerny's arrangement for two pianos.
This was the situation when Seghers left the Société des Concerts and
founded the Société St. Cécile. He led the orchestra himself. The new
society took its name from the St. Cécile hall which was then in the Rue
de la Chaussée d'Antin. It was a large square hall and was excellent in
spite of the prejudice in favor of halls with curved lines for music.
Curved surfaces, as Cavaillé-Coll, who was an expert in this matter,
once told me, distort sound as curved mirrors distort images. Halls used
for music should, therefore, have only straight lines. The St. Cécile
hall was sufficiently large to allow a complete orchestra and chorus to
be placed properly and heard as well.
Seghers managed to assemble an excellent and sizable orchestra and he
also secured soloists who were young then but who have since become
celebrities. The orchestra was poorly paid and also very unruly. I have
seen them rebel at the difficulties in Beethoven, and it was even worse
when Seghers undertook to give Schumann who was considered the _ne plus
ultra_ of modernism. Oftentimes there were real riots. But we heard
there for the first time the overture of _Manfred_, Mendelssohn's
_Symphony in A minor_, and the overture to _Tannhauser_.
The modern French school found the doors in the Rue Bergère closed to
them, but they were welcomed with open arms at the Chaussée d'Antin.
Among them were Reber, Gounod, and Gouvy, and even beginners like
Georges Bizet and myself. I made my first venture there with my
_Symphony in E flat_ which I wrote when I was seventeen. In order to get
the committee to adopt it, Seghers offered it as a symphony by an
unknown author, which had been sent to him from Germany. The committees
swallowed the bait, and the symphony, which would probably not had a
hearing if my name had been signed, was praised to the skies.
I can still see myself at a rehearsal listening to a conversation
between Berlioz and Gounod. Both of them were greatly interested in me,
so that they spoke freely and discussed the excellences and faults of
this anonymous symphony. They took the work seriously and it can be
imagined how I drank in their words. When the veil of mystery was
lifted, the interest of the two great musicians changed to friendship. I
received a letter from Gounod, which I have kept carefully, and as it
does credit to the author, I take the liberty of reproducing it here:
My dear Camille:
I was officially informed yesterday that you are the author of the
symphony which they played on Sunday. I suspected it; but now that
I am sure, I want to tell you at once how pleased I was with it.
You are beyond your years; always keep on--and remember that on
Sunday, December 11, 1853, you obligated yourself to become a great
master.
Your pleased and devoted friend,
CH. GOUNOD.
Many works which had been unknown to Parisian audiences were given at
these concerts and nowhere else. Among them were Schubert's _Symphony in
C,_ fragments of Weber's opera _Préciosa,_ his _Jubel overture_, and
symphonies by Gade, Gouvy, Gounod, and Reber. These symphonies are not
dazzling but they are charming. They form an interesting link in the
golden chain, and the public has a right and even some sort of duty to
hear them. They would enjoy hearing them too, just as at the Louvre they
like to see certain pictures which are not extraordinary but which are,
nevertheless, worthy of the place they occupy. That is to say, if the
public is really guided by a love of art and seeks only intellectual
pleasure instead of sensations and shocks. Some one has said lately that
where there is no feeling there is no music. We could, however, cite
many passages of music which are absolutely lacking in emotion and which
are beautiful nevertheless from the standpoint of pure esthetic beauty.
But what am I saying? Painting goes its own way and emotion, feeling,
and passion are evoked by the least landscape. Maurice Barres brought in
this fashion and he could even see passion in rocks. Happy is he who can
follow him there.
Among the things we heard at that time and which we never hear now I
must note especially Berlioz's _Corsaire_ and _King Lear_. His name is
so much beloved by the present day public that this neglect is both
unjust and unjustifiable. The great man himself came to the Société St.
Cécile one day to conduct his _L'Enfance du Christ_ which he had just
written--or rather _La Fuite en Egypt_ which was the only part of the
work that was in existence then. He composed the rest of it afterwards.
I remember perfectly the performances which the great man directed. They
were lively and spirited rather than careful, but somewhat slower than
what Edouard Colonne has accustomed us to. The time was faster and the
nuances sharper.
In spite of the enthusiasm of the conductor and the skill and talent of
the orchestra, the society led a hand-to-mouth existence. The sinews of
war were lacking. Weckerlin directed the choruses and I acted as the
accompanist at the rehearsals. Love of art sufficed us, but the singers
and instrumentalists were not satisfied with that in the absence of all
emoluments. If Seghers had been adaptable, he might have secured
resources, but that was not his forte. Meyerbeer wanted him to give his
_Struensée_ and Halévy wanted a performance of his _Prométhée_. But this
was contrary to Seghers's convictions, and when he had once made up his
mind nothing could change him. Nevertheless he did give the overture to
_Struensée_ and it would have been no great effort to give the rest. As
to _Prométhée_, even if the last part is not in harmony with the rest
of it, the work was well worthy the honor of a performance, which the
proud society in the Rue Bergère had accorded it. By these refusals
Seghers was deprived of the support of two powerful protectors.
Pasdeloup craftily took advantage of the situation. He had plenty of
money and, as he knew what the financial situation was, he went to the
rehearsals and corrupted the artists. For the most part they were young
people in needy circumstances and could not refuse his attractive
propositions. He killed Seghers's society and built on its ruins the
Société des Jeunes Artistes, which later became the Concerts Populaires.
Pasdeloup was sincerely fond of music but he was a very ordinary
musician. He had little of Seghers's feeling and profound comprehension
of the art. In Seghers's hands the popular concerts would have become an
admirable undertaking, but Pasdeloup, in spite of his zeal and skill,
was able to give them only a superficial and deceptive brilliancy.
Besides, Seghers would have worked for the development of the French
school whom Pasdeloup, with but few exceptions, kept under a bushel
until 1870. Among these exceptions were a symphony by Gounod, one by
Gouvy and the overture to Berlioz's _Frances-Juges._ Until the
misfortunes and calamities of that terrible year the French symphonic
school had been repressed and stifled between the Société des Concerts
and the Concerts Populaires. Perhaps they were necessary so that this
school might be freed and give flight to its fancies.