There are several allusions to Liszt in Moscheles' Diary. Liszt visited
London in 1840, and Moscheles records:
"At one of the Philharmonic Concerts he played three of my studies quite
admirably. Faultless in the way of execution, by his talent he has
completely metamorphosed these pieces; they have become more his studies
than mine. With all that they please me, and I shouldn't like to hear
them played in any other way by him. The Paganini studies too were
uncommonly interesting to me. He does anything he chooses, and does it
admirably; and those hands raised aloft in the air come down but seldom,
wonderfully seldom, upon a wrong note. 'His conversation is always
brilliant,' adds Mrs. Moscheles. 'It is occasionally dashed with satire
or spiced with humour. The other day he brought me his portrait, with
his hommages respectueux written underneath; and what was the best
"hommage" of all he sat down to the piano, and played me the Erl King,
the Ave Maria and a charming Hungarian piece.'"
Liszt was again in London in 1841, and Moscheles records that at the
Philharmonic Society's concert, on July 14:
"The attention of the audience was entirely centred upon Liszt. When he
came forward to play in Hummel's septet one was prepared to be
staggered, but only heard the well-known piece which he plays with the
most perfect execution, storming occasionally like a Titan, but still in
the main free from extravagance; for the distinguishing mark of Liszt's
mind and genius is that he knows perfectly the capability of the
audience and the style of music he brings before them, and uses his
powers, which are equal to everything, merely as a means of eliciting
the most varied kinds of effects."
Mrs. Moscheles, in some supplementary notes to her husband's Diary,
says:
"Liszt and Moscheles were heard several times together in the Preciosa
variations, on which Moscheles remarks: 'It seemed to me that we were
sitting together on Pegasus.' When Moscheles showed him his F-sharp and
D-minor studies, which he had written for Michetti's Beethoven Album,
Liszt, in spite of their intricacies and difficulties, played them
admirably at sight. He was a constant visitor at Moscheles' house, often
dropping in unexpectedly; and many an evening was spent under the double
fascination of his splendid playing and brilliant conversation. The
other day he told us: 'I have played a duet with Cramer; I was the
poisoned mushroom, and I had at my side my antidote of milk.'"
Moscheles attended the Beethoven Festival at Bonn, in 1845, and on
August 10 recorded in his Diary:
"I am at the Hotel de l'Etoile d'Or, where are to be found all the
crowned heads of music--brown, gray or bald. This is a rendezvous for
all ladies, old and young, fanatics for music, all art judges, German
and French reviewers and English reporters; lastly, the abode of Liszt,
the absolute monarch, by virtue of his princely gifts, outshining all
else.... I have already seen and spoken to colleagues from all the four
quarters of the globe; I was also with Liszt, who had his hands full of
business, and was surrounded with secretaries and masters of ceremonies,
while Chorley sat quietly ensconced in the corner of a sofa. Liszt too
kissed me; then a few hurried and confused words passed between us, and
I did not see him again until I met him afterwards in the concert
room."
On August 12, Moscheles records:
"I was deeply moved when I saw the statue of Beethoven unveiled, the
more so because Haehnel has obtained an admirable likeness of the
immortal composer. Another tumult and uproar at the table d'hote in the
'Stern' Hotel. I sat near Bachez, Fischof and Vesque, Liszt in all his
glory, a suite of ladies and gentlemen in attendance on him, Lola Montez
among the former."
At the banquet after the unveiling of Beethoven's statue at Bonn,
Moscheles records:
"Immediately after the king's health had been proposed, Wolff, the
improvisatore, gave a toast which he called the 'Trefoil.' It was to
represent the perfect chord--Spohr the key-note, Liszt the connecting
link between all parties, the third, Professor Breidenstein, the
dominant leading all things to a happy solution. (Universal applause.)
Spohr proposes the health of the Queen of England, Dr. Wolff that of
Professor Haehnel, the sculptor of the monument, and also that of the
brass founder. Liszt proposes Prince Albert; a professor with a
stentorian voice is laughed and coughed down--people will not listen to
him; and then ensued a series of most disgraceful scenes which
originated thus: Liszt spoke rather abstrusely upon the subject of the
festival. 'Here all nations are met to pay honour to the master. May
they live and prosper--the Dutch, the English, the Viennese--who have
made a pilgrimage hither!' Upon this Chelard gets up in a passion, and
screams out to Liszt, 'Vous avez oublie les Francais.'
"Many voices break in, a regular tumult ensues, some for, some against
the speaker. At last Liszt makes himself heard, but in trying to
exculpate himself seems to get entangled deeper and deeper in a
labyrinth of words, seeking to convince his hearers that he had lived
fifteen years among Frenchmen, and would certainly not intentionally
speak slightingly of them. The contending parties, however, become more
uproarious, many leave their seats, the din becomes deafening and the
ladies pale with fright. The fete is interrupted for a full hour, Dr.
Wolff, mounting a table, tries to speak, but is hooted down three or
four times, and at last quits the room, glad to escape the babel of
tongues. Knots of people are seen disputing in every part of the great
salon, and, the confusion increasing, the cause of dispute is lost sight
of. The French and English journalists mingle in this fray, by
complaining of omissions of all sorts on the part of the festival
committee. When the tumult threatens to become serious the landlord hits
upon the bright idea of making the band play its loudest, and this
drowns the noise of the brawlers, who adjourned to the open air.
"The waiters once more resumed their services, although many of the
guests, especially ladies, had vanished. The contending groups outside
showed their bad taste and ridiculous selfishness, for Vivier and some
Frenchmen got Liszt among them, and reproached him in a most shameful
way. G. ran from party to party, adding fuel to the fire; Chorley was
attacked by a French journalist; M. J. J. (Jules Janin) would have it
that the English gentleman, Wentworth Dilke, was a German who had
slighted him; I stepped in between the two, so as at least to put an end
to this unfair controversy. I tried as well as I could to soothe these
overwrought minds, and pronounced funeral orations over those who had
perished in this tempest of words. I alone remained shot proof and
neutral, so also did my Viennese friends. By 6 o'clock in the evening I
became almost deaf from the noise, and was glad to escape."