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LEIPZIG, March 21, 1840.
Beginning of Spring.
MY DEAR FRIEND,--Those kind letters of yours and your wife’s came
yesterday, and a most agreeable surprise they were. A thousand thanks.
You cannot imagine how refreshing it is to me to get a letter from you.
Besides all that is new and interesting in it, there is so much that
comes straight from the heart, so much that is thoroughly Moscheles,
that I quite fancy I hear you. And, do you know, one of the invigorating
effects of your letters is the desire they give me to go to England,
whereas, in truth, I fight rather shy of the journey. I don’t know how
it is, but when I read your letter urging me to go to Birmingham, I am
seized with the desire to be off. There is my wife, too, who is in favor
of the journey, and who, this time, would like to accompany me; and that
sets me to thinking that we might do worse than bring our wives
together, and let them become friends; and then--and then--I long for
the steamer and for the perfume of British coal, and I put in the
daintiest touches to complete the pleasant picture. I wonder whether it
is to be realized.
What you tell me about the Philharmonic and Lord Burghersh, I must say,
does not particularly attract me; that the society should be losing
ground, as you say, I most sincerely regret. It was so flourishing when
I knew it, and had such a halo of glory round it, that I could not
believe the evil I hear of it on all sides; but since you confirm such
reports, they must be true.
Your remarks on Spohr’s C minor Symphony, I indorse word for word; and
without knowing his historical Symphony, one feels how correct and fair
your analysis of it must be, just as one can judge of the likeness of a
portrait without knowing the subject.[39] But what an unlucky idea the
whole thing is! After all, a joke is out of place in a serious
orchestra. This leads me to a request that I meant to make long ago.
Would you not let us have your own Symphony in C[40] for one of our
concerts? I am sure it would be appreciated on all sides, and why should
you withhold such a work from the public? For this winter it would be
too late, as our last concert takes place on Thursday; but it might come
as an opening feature of the concert season next autumn, if you are
agreeable.
We have had an interesting musical time of it, this winter: Dreyschock,
Prume, Madame Pleyel, Hiller, Ernst, and now, to wind up, Liszt. Our
Subscription Concerts and the six Quartet evenings were more crowded
than ever; and with their close the time has come when one longs for
home music and no concerts. Liszt has been here for the last six days.
He has given one concert, and announces another for next Tuesday; after
which he goes to Dresden and to Paris, where he means to play;
afterwards to London for the season, and then to Russia to spend the
winter. His playing, which is quite masterly, and his subtle musical
feeling, that finds its way to the very tips of his fingers, truly
delighted me. His rapidity and suppleness, above all, his playing at
sight, his memory, and his thorough musical insight, are qualities quite
unique in their way, and that I have never seen surpassed. With all
that, you find in him, when once you have penetrated beneath the surface
of modern French polish, a good fellow and a true artist, whom you can’t
help liking even if you disagree with him. The only thing that he seems
to me to want is true talent for composition, I mean really original
ideas. The things he played to me struck me as very incomplete, even
when judged from his own point of view, which, to my mind, is not the
right one. And, if I am not mistaken, that explains why Thalberg would
meet with more success in many places,--England, for instance. He, in
his way, is just perfect; he plays the pieces he has mastered, and
there he stops: whereas Liszt’s whole performance is as unpremeditated,
as wild and impetuous, as you would expect of a genius; but then I miss
those genuinely original ideas which I naturally expect from a genius. A
mere pianist he is not, nor does he give himself out as such; and that
perhaps makes him appear less perfect than others whose talent cannot be
compared with his. We are together the greater part of the day, and seem
to be mutually attracted. His appreciation of you, and the cordial way
in which he expresses it, have drawn me still nearer to him. It is a
pity that he should be saddled with a manager and a secretary who,
between them, succeeded in so thoroughly mismanaging things that the
public were furious, and we had the greatest trouble to smooth matters
to some extent for the second concert. The advertisements and subsequent
modifications, the prices and the programme,--in fact, everything that
Liszt himself did not do was objectionable; and consequently the mildest
of Leipzigers were in a rage. By this time, however, they seem to have
calmed down again.
A thousand thanks for your kind offer about my Trio. I need not trouble
you again about its publication, as it is to appear at Ewer & Co.’s; but
your offer to look through the proof-sheets is too tempting to refuse,
however indiscreet my acceptance may be. So I have told Ewer to send you
the proofs, and am sincerely obliged to you. They asked me for an
arrangement for the flute instead of the violin, and I suggested that
they should publish only the Andante and Scherzo in this form, under the
title “Andante et Rondo (tiré de l’œuvre 49,” etc.); because the first
and last movements appear too heavy and substantial for such an
arrangement. However, I have left the decision in their hands. What do
you advise? I have told them to consult you on any question which might
arise. That, too, you must excuse; but, above all, let me soon know what
you think of the work itself.
You know how highly I value your remarks, and how much at all times I
learn from them. For that self-same reason I wish I could show you a new
Psalm I have just written, and a Symphony I have begun. Well, perhaps
that may be next autumn.
And now good-by. Yours ever,