CAPRICCIOSO.
Untamable Animals and Men--An Interesting Test--Attempt to Refine a
Gypsy--The Boy Josy--Bought from the Gypsies--His Advent in Liszt’s
Salon--Thalberg’s Astonishment--Adopted by the Master--Attempts to
Educate him--A Hopeless Task--Josy becomes a Fop--His Insolence and
Conceit--Liszt Despondent--Josy goes to the Conservatory--Worse and
Worse--Sent to the Black Forest--No better--Liszt’s Encounter with
a Traveling Band--Josy’s Brother Intercedes for his Return--Liszt
Consents--Great Joy--Josy Settles at Debrezin--Violinist in a Gypsy
Band--Letter to Liszt--His Love and Devotion.
It is well known that there are animals who are never tamable for any
length of time and it is none the less interesting to know that an
untamableness of nature just as absolute is a human characteristic,
and belongs to beings of our own kind, who inconsistently throw
away all the benefactions and blessings of a fixed existence and
culture, content to secure the inexhaustible bounty of nature and
enjoy the simplest form of human existence. It is that people “which
draws water from every stream of earth and eats bread from all its
furrows.” Liszt, who had found the way to them by his earnest desire
to witness their actual life, has given us an illustration of this
feature of their untamableness and contempt for all our blessings of
culture, which, when closely considered, leads us to reflect upon the
real nature of _our_ culture. In parts it is very amusing and again
it is almost pathetically humorous, revealing to us the nature of
human existence in all its varying moods. We may observe this from
a psychological standpoint and thus save ourselves the necessity of
character-description.
Would not continual kindness of treatment at last overcome this innate
wantonness of the gypsy nature? Might not one by carefully fostering
their music, that exotic plant, that special gift of theirs, so
brilliant in its first radiance, develop it to a fuller growth in the
atmosphere of civilization and improve its beauty? These were the
questions which for a long time had impressed themselves upon the manly
feelings and the kindly spirit of the great artist, as well as upon his
deep concern for and earnest sympathy with all true and genuine things
and with the immortal nature of all the spontaneous outgrowths of his
art.
It was in Paris, about the beginning of 1840, and at a time also
when Liszt’s attention was not much given to the gypsies, that one
morning his dear friend, Count Sandor Teleky, came in, accompanied by
a twelve-year-old lad, in a hussar jacket and broad laced trowsers,
with dark brown complexion, wildly waving hair, a bold look, and a
demeanor as haughty as if he were about to challenge all the kings of
the world. He had a violin in his hands. “See,” said the Count, as he
pushed the lad toward him by the shoulders, “I bring you a present.”
Great was the astonishment of all the guests at a scene so strange for
Frenchmen to witness. Among these guests was that great artist, who
was at that time, notwithstanding Liszt’s abilities, called in Paris,
“the greatest,” until one who had closely watched the rivalry between
them settled it in a word: “Thalberg is the first but Liszt is the
only one.” It was Thalberg who could not refrain from asking what he
intended to do with this gift.
Liszt himself was surprised. He had not thought for a long time of the
wish he had expressed, when in Hungary, of finding a young gypsy with
a talent for the violin which he might further develop, but he guessed
as soon as he looked upon this slim, nervous and evidently quarrelsome
little being that his desire for a young “Cygan” and countryman
had been gratified. In fact, the Count on leaving Hungary had left
instructions on his estates, since they had sought in vain while he
was there, that in the event of finding such a young man he should be
sent direct to Paris. The impetuous youngster, whom he now introduced
to Liszt, had been discovered a short time before on his possessions,
and had been purchased and forwarded to him as a token of friendly
affection.
Liszt kept the boy continually near him and naturally took keen
pleasure in watching the development of his emotions and humors amid
his new surroundings. Insolence was the strongest characteristic of
his nature, and it displayed itself in the most diverse ways, by a
thousand naive and childish frivolities. To steal out of greediness, to
continually hug the women, to break every object whose mechanism he did
not understand, were very inconvenient but natural faults which might
have corrected themselves. It was not easy, however, to deal with
them as they continually broke out in new directions. In these circles
which included acute psychological observers, like Balzac and George
Sand, “Josy” soon became a little lion and his private concerts kept
his purse well filled. The money which came in so abundantly he flung
away recklessly and with all the prodigality of a magnate. The first
object of his attention was the adorning of his own little person. His
coquetry was beyond belief and even went so far as affected vanity.
He must always have plenty of beautiful little canes, breast-pins and
watch-chains by him, and of various kinds. His cravats and vests could
not be too showy in colors and no hair-dresser was too good to curl his
locks. To become an Adonis was the great problem of his existence, but
in his attempt to solve it, one pang gnawed at his heart and poisoned
his peace. In contrast with those about him, his complexion was so
brown and yellow! He thought that by the active application of soap
and oil, such as he had seen employed with great success in acquiring
that enviable possession, a beautiful color, he could overcome his
misfortunes, and he continually provided himself with them. He visited
the best shops and bought everything he thought would answer for that
purpose, always throwing down five franc pieces, for he was much too
fine a gentleman to take any change.
It soon became impossible to do anything with him. In all the friendly
circles of his adopted father, he swelled about, a full flown dandy.
On the eve of taking his journey to Spain, Liszt gave him over to
the violin professor of the Paris Conservatory. He promised to give
the utmost attention to his astonishing musical talent, while the
superintendent of a school, in which meanwhile the boy was placed,
undertook to cultivate him mentally and morally. All accounts from
him, however, more and more confirmed Liszt’s doubts of the success of
these educational schemes. In music it was specially useless to try and
keep him within any practical bounds. He had the utmost contempt for
everything that he did not know, and without directly asserting it, in
his own estimation he was convinced of his superiority to everything
about him. Like a genuine “savage” he was interested only in _his own_
pleasures, _his own_ violin and _his own_ music, and had no desire for
anything else.
When Count Teleky brought him in, in his Hungarian gypsy costume, he
had still his own violin. Upon this little wooden shell, poorly glued
together, covered with strings which seemed better adapted for hanging
oneself than for _playing_, he played even then the liveliest dances
with remarkable aplomb and unsurpassed vigor. His perceptions never
failed him and he played very willingly. He could perform for hours
partly by ear and partly improvising and was very reluctant to make use
of the melodies which he had heard among his associates. For the most
part they were dull and insipid to him, but he was very partial to the
melodies which he had heard Liszt play many times, and he would often
regale his own audience with them, ornamenting them, however, in such
a droll fashion that they never failed to set every one in a cheerful
mood. As soon, however, as he was obliged to undertake actual study, he
became refractory and would have nothing to do with it. No one could
convince him that his own methods were not finer than any they could
teach him and he lived in the fullest conviction that he was the victim
of barbarous coercion whenever his teacher in the least complained that
he was unwilling to be instructed by him.
As might have been expected, Liszt soon heard that Josy grew larger but
did not change otherwise; that he made no progress, and that nothing
could be done with him. With his personal weakness for these singular
people, he looked upon the zig-zag letters of the boy which showed the
type of oriental exaggeration, as a proof of his industry. He sent word
to him to meet him in Strasburg. When he first arrived he did not think
of the boy, but when he stepped from his carriage he suddenly felt
a violent hand-shake and was almost suffocated in the embraces of a
strange young man. It took some time before he could recognize in this
elegant young gentleman, clad in Parisian fashion, his little untamed,
harum-scarum gypsy of the moors. Only the curved nose, the Asiatic eyes
and the dark skin, in spite of all the French cosmetics and soaps,
were the same. The self-conceit also was left, for when Liszt suddenly
exclaimed: “Why, Josy, you look like a young gentleman,” not in the
least disconcerted and with the mien of an hidalgo, he replied, “Yes,
because I am one.” In his new costume he also preserved his lofty
style and grandeur of demeanor, and after that it was difficult for
the “father” to believe that the inflexible gypsy nature could be
restrained within the limits of civilization and keep a designated
course. Still he would not allow his convictions to defeat his hopes
so soon. He thought that perhaps woods and fields would have a better
influence upon the boy than the great city and he consigned him to an
excellent musician in Germany, on the edge of the Black Forest. This
retreat, which withdrew him from the atmosphere of the great city and
the danger of continual fresh corruption, interfering with the growth
of what little virtuous aptitude he had by nature, Liszt hoped would
lead yet to the amelioration of the wild creature.
Not long after he was in Vienna and heard of a new gypsy band. He
went one evening to the “Zeiferl,” where they played, to see whether
it was worth the trouble to make their acquaintance. Not one of the
company expected to find a face they knew in the band and for that
reason they were surprised at the commotion which Liszt’s entrance
occasioned. A slim young fellow rushed out of the troupe, fell at his
feet and embraced his knees with the most passionate gestures. At the
same instant he was surrounded by the whole troupe, who without further
ado, overwhelmed him by kissing his hand and expressions of gratitude,
of which he did not understand a syllable. After much trouble he
discovered that the one who had thrown himself at his feet with such an
enthusiastic “Elyen Liszt,” was an older brother of Josy’s. He had been
inquiring among Liszt’s friends and related, boasting and sobbing at
the same time, all that had been done for the benefit of the poor sold
boy, which did not prevent him, however, from timidly intimating how
glad they would be to see him and have him again.
The news from his teacher was not satisfactory, so all hope must be
given up of making a rational artist out of this gypsy musician. Liszt
could no longer force an organization which was at utter variance with
the temperament of our society and culture. Will any one contend
that the European world has anything better to offer to such a branch
dissevered from its stem, than the joys of nature, to which our culture
had perhaps gradually made him wholly insensible? So he allowed this
“son of the wilderness” to come to Vienna in order that he might
again join his companions, if he so wished. His rapture at seeing
them was boundless. They feared he would go mad, but the elasticity
of such nerves knows no limits. Although in his foolish moments he
had wished for another complexion he now was conscious that he could
no longer disown his race. No sooner were they reunited than the band
disappeared from the city with the purpose of showing the lost child to
his father again. From the very first moment, Josy had shown himself
more intolerable than ever, and with many passionate expressions of
gratitude begged to be allowed to return at once and forever to his
people. So they parted, after his friends had filled his purse with a
little contribution which the haughty little fellow squandered upon a
colossal banquet given to his brethren in spite of all protestations
and the farewell supper besides, which had been provided for him.
Did he ever see him again, this most perverse of all his countless
scholars, on the edge of the wood, with his violin, smoking, playing or
only dreaming, as Lenau has pictured “the three gypsies?”
Some years later, in 1857, Liszt’s volume made its appearance. A German
translation of it by P. Cornelius appeared in Pesth, in 1861. It
contained a letter from Debrezin, in Hungary, signed: “Sarai Josef, or
the Gypsy Josy in the principal orchestra of Boka Karoly.” A notice of
the volume had appeared in the Debrezin _Sonntagsblatt_, and so Josy
writes the following which shows that culture had had some influence
upon him: “Since I have become the father of a family and acquired a
restful spirit and clear understanding, I reflect with sadness that
in my youth I might have had the good fortune, under Your Highness’
protection and patronage, of an introduction to the great world and of
artistic cultivation, but for my incorrigible perversity and aversion
to all that was noble, elevated and artistic. But it was impossible,
and you are richly rewarded by my own and my brother’s request, since
a worthless gypsy fellow, whom it was impossible to develop into an
artist, is sent home again. In a word, I realize that I have buried my
future, but it could not have been otherwise. But as you openly desire,
at the close of your narrative, to hear something of me, I take this
opportunity to humbly inform you that here in Debrezin, my home, I am
serving as an ordinary gypsy in the orchestra, among my companions, and
am a favorite with the public since I still play the violin tolerably
well.”
He had also married a gypsy of the same place, and the year before had
a son, who was christened with Liszt’s most precious name of Franz.
He says: “I am so bold as to select Your Highness as godfather. We
prolonged the christening with a lively entertainment, pledging the
godfather in a far away foreign land with high swinging cups.” He added
that the most precious recollections of him were impressed upon his
heart and that a portrait of “His Highness,” which he once took away
from Paris with him, should be preserved in his humble abode as long as
he lived and should be consigned to his posterity as a sacred relic.
“Poverty often hangs the soul with rags and leaves it bare of
everything that graces and warms,” says Goethe, but in this case we
see that where nature has no other needs than those which can be
satisfied without trouble, the saying is not true and the appreciation
of a benefit conferred is, so to speak, a higher moral attribute, a
culture in itself. If a want of gratitude be the first sign of liberty
and self-dependence, then this “ordinary gypsy,” Sarai Josy, might
quietly say: “We barbarians are still better men.” Gratitude was the
distinction of his person as that haughtiness which has clung to them
through centuries of misery and privation in all countries of the
world is the distinction of his race. Could culture have given such
a distinction to this Josy? We doubt it and offer as an illustration
the beautiful saying of our great Fichte, in the address to the German
people, that delight in the good is rooted in man. In fact we have
observed it in this Josy. The loss of all the beautiful gifts of
culture did not give him a moment’s concern. That he had “buried his
future” was to him simply a thing that could not have been avoided,
but the spirit of goodness and love which alone can add happiness and
blessing to culture, once experienced by him, was never forgotten.
As long as he lived and even after he was gone, the picture of his
benefactor would be preserved as a “holy relic.” This one incident
reveals to us the real character of our master, who in this respect
inherited the traits of Mozart.