"It is commonly assumed that the first musician who made a concert
speech of the kind now so much in vogue was Hans von Buelow," says Mr.
Finck. "Probably he was the first who made such speeches frequently, and
he doubtless made the longest on record, when, on March 28, 1892, he
harangued a Philharmonic audience in Berlin on Beethoven and Bismarck;
this address covers three pages of Buelow's invaluable Briefe und
Schriften. The first concert speech, however, was made by that
many-sided innovator, Franz Liszt, who tells about it in an amusing
letter he wrote from Milan to the Paris _Gazette Musicale_, in 1837. It
was about this time that he originated the custom of giving 'piano
recitals,' as he called them; that is, monologues by the solo pianist,
without assisting artist or orchestra. In Italy, where he first took to
this habit, it was particularly risky, because the Italians cared for
little besides operatic pomp, vocal display, and strongly spiced musical
effect. For pianists, in particular, they had little or no use. In those
days (and times have not changed), a pianist travelling in Italy was
wise if, in the words of Liszt, he 'pined for the sun rather than for
fame, and sought repose rather than gold.'
"He succeeded, nevertheless, in making the Italians interested in piano
playing, but he had to stoop to conquer. When he played one of his own
etudes, a gentleman in the pit called out that he had come to the
theatre to be entertained and not to hear a 'studio.' Liszt thereupon
improvised fantasias on Italian operatic melodies, which aroused
tumultuous enthusiasm. He also asked the audiences, after the fashion of
the time, to suggest themes for him to improvise on or topics for him to
illustrate in tones. One auditor suggested the Milan Cathedral, another
the railway, while a third sent up a paper asking Liszt to discuss on
the piano the question: 'Is it better to marry or remain a bachelor?'
This was a little too much even for the pianist, who was destined to
become the supreme master of programme music, so he made a speech. To
cite his own words: 'As I could only have answered this question after a
long pause, I preferred to recall to the audience the words of a wise
man: "Whatever you do, marry or remain single, you will be sure to
regret it." You see, my friend, that I have found a splendid means of
rendering a concert cheerful when ennui makes it rather a cool duty
than a pleasure. Was I wrong to say my _Anch'io_ in this land of
improvisation?'
"The operatic fantasias which Liszt first improvised for the Italians
found great favour in other countries; so much so that eager publishers
used to follow him from city to city, begging him to put them on paper,
and allow them to print them. There are thirty-six of these fantasias in
all, ranging from Sonnambula and Lucia to the operas of Meyerbeer,
Verdi, and Wagner. It has been the fashion among critics to sneer at
them, but, as Saint-Saens has said, there is much pedantry and prejudice
in these sneers. In structure they are as artistic as the overtures to
such operas as Zampa, Euryanthe, and Tannhaeuser, which likewise are
'practically nothing but fantasias on the operas which they introduce.'
Berlioz was the first to point out how, in these pieces, Liszt actually
improves on the originals; in the Robert the Devil fantasia, for
instance, his ingenious way of combining the Bertram aria of the third
act with the aria of the ballet of nuns produced an 'indescribable
dramatic effect.' What is more, these fantasias contain much of Liszt's
own genius, not to speak of his wonderful pianistic idiom. He scattered
his own pearls and diamonds among them lavishly."