Chapter XI: Appendix: A Letter From Liszt’s Father

The _Harmonicon_, an English musical journal, of June, 1824, contains the following interesting letter, addressed to its editor by Liszt’s father:

PARIS, 1824.

SIR:--The expressions which you frequently employed in speaking of
my son have been so flattering, that I can not but be sensible of
your kindness, and therefore take this opportunity of testifying
my gratitude. I must say, that I by no means anticipated the high
degree of success with which he was honored by the public of Paris,
and above all, was not prepared for the comparison, by no means
advantageous, which they were pleased to draw between the rising
talents of my son, and those of our great Mozart. I recognize in this
amiable exaggeration that spirit of French politeness, the boast of
which I have all my life been accustomed to hear, and my son will
think himself most happy, if hereafter he shall have the good fortune
to share some degree of celebrity with the masters of the German
school, though he must remain at a very humble distance from him
whom it glories in placing at its head.

You must however allow me, Sir, to make a few observations upon the
following expression that occurred in one of your journals: “The
parents of young Liszt are poor, and he supports them by the product
of his talents.”

Fortune, it is true, has not loaded me with her favors, yet I have
no reason to complain of her neglect. For the space of twenty-three
years I have been in the service of Prince Esterhazy, where I filled
the situation of steward of part of his sheep-farms. The immense
income of this prince, and the noble and generous manner in which he
acts toward those who have the good fortune to belong to any of his
establishments, have long since placed me in that _aurea mediocritas_
so happily described by the Latin poet.

Having observed in my only son, from a very early age, a decided
predilection for music, and having from my youth cultivated
the art as an amateur, I myself, for the space of three years,
superintended his first musical education with that constancy
and perseverance which form one of the characteristic traits of
our nation. I afterward placed him for eighteen months under the
instruction of Messrs. Salieri and Czerny, from the first of whom he
received lessons in harmony and counter-point, and from the second,
instruction on the piano-forte, and to both of whom he is indebted
for their kind care and attention. I am happy to be thus able
publicly to render them the homage of my grateful acknowledgments.

I came to Paris with the permission of the prince, and by the advice
of my friends, in order to perfect my son’s talents, by affording
him an opportunity of hearing the numerous artists whom this capital
contains, and of cultivating the French language, of which he has
already some general idea; a language which justly lays claim to the
title of being that of Europe. At the same time, I have not neglected
to take advantage of the eagerness testified by the Parisians to
hear his performance, in order to indemnify myself for the expenses
necessarily attendant upon a long journey, and the removal of my
whole family.

Accept my best acknowledgments, and believe me, etc.,

ADAM LISZT.

Accompanying this letter is the following editorial comment:

“The young Francis Liszt, with his father, arrived in London last
month, and has exhibited his talents to many people of rank, and to
some of the most distinguished professors of this metropolis, who all
agree in considering him as a performer that would be ranked very
high, even were he arrived at full manhood, and therefore a most
surprising instance of precocious talent at so early an age as twelve.
He executes the most difficult of the modern piano-forte music without
the smallest apparent effort, and plays at sight things that very few
masters would venture upon, until they had given to them a little
private study. But his extemporaneous performances are the most
remarkable. Upon any subject that is proposed to him he improvises
with the fancy and method of a deliberating composer, and with the
correctness of an experienced contrapuntist. His hand is not unusually
large, but is amazingly strong, and his touch has all the vigor of
maturity. He has reached the usual growth of boys of his age, and
possesses an open, intelligent and agreeable countenance, with a
frankness, but at the same time a propriety of manner, that indicates
a good temper and a correct understanding.”

LISZT’S ONE OPERA.

A German correspondent of the _Harmonicon_ sent that paper the following account of the performance of Liszt’s Opera, “Don Sancho,” on Oct. 18, 1825, at the Academie Royale de Musique, Paris:

“The extraordinary youth, the composer of this opera, has but just
entered his thirteenth year. He has been acknowledged by some of
the first connoisseurs of Germany and France to merit a place among
the principal pianists of Europe; nay, some have gone so far as to
say that he yields the palm to Hummel only, whose immense talent as
an improvisatore undoubtedly stands as yet alone and unrivaled. But
the youthful Liszt is also a composer and gifted with the talent of
improvisation in a high degree. Aware of this, and wishing early--we
trust not too soon--to develop his talents, the admirers of the
youthful compatriot of Mozart desired him to try his strength on a
wider field; they procured a poem adapted, as they supposed, to his
powers. He has for some time been diligently engaged upon it, and the
present is the result of his labors. * * * *

“The subject of the opera is taken from a tale of Florian, entitled
‘_Don Sancho_,’ one of the feeblest of all this author’s works. It
is a kind of allegory, in which Love appears in person, armed with
his bow and arrows. The little god is the lord and master of an
almost inaccessible castle, the gate of which can be entered only by
two and two at a time. The drawbridge is never let down, save to a
knight accompanied by his lady. Elvira, persecuted by one whom she
detests, and who is attempted to be forced upon her as a husband,
disguises herself as a knight, and finding a favorable moment for
escape, sallies forth alone from the castle of the King, her father.
In the midst of a forest she meets with Don Sancho, who, being in
quest of adventures, is desirous of entering into conversation with
the unknown. Piqued at being answered only in monosyllables, he finds
means to excite a quarrel. A combat ensues. Elvira, as every child
could have foreseen, is vanquished. She sinks to the earth and her
helmet falling off discovers the features of a beauteous female. The
victor is on his knees before his lovely foe; Elvira no longer merits
that title. She also is in love with Don Sancho at first sight. But
a fearful storm comes on, and they hasten to the Castle of Love (_Le
Chateau d’ Amour_) which is seen in the distance. On the way they
are encountered by Rostubalde--for such is the name of the odious
rival--who wishes to prevent their entrance into the castle. Don
Sancho rushes upon him but is wounded; Elvira avenges the wound of
her lover by the death of Rostubalde. At length the two lovers are
at the gates of the castle. The winged god appears upon one of the
towers. ‘Open to us,’ cries Elvira, ‘we are two faithful ones who
love, and will love forever.’ At this magic word ‘_ever_,’ the gates
fly open. Cupid with a single touch heals the wound of Don Sancho.
Elvira returns with him to the court of the good-natured King, her
father, who asks not a word of explanation relative to the absence
of his blooming daughter from her home, but hastens to unite the two
lovers.

“In the outline here given of this dull and insipid pastoral, will,
with a very few exceptions, be found the general story of the opera
in question. The principal change is that of the person of Rostubalde
into an enchanter, of the name of Alidor; but even this resource,
such as it is, the authors have turned but to little account. In a
word, we consider our young artist as dragged to the earth by the
dead weight of this mass, which he has attempted in vain to leaven by
his genius.

“But we must now speak of the music. The overture contains many happy
motives, and passages of great beauty and effect. If it fails in
being strongly characteristic, we should impute the fault in a great
measure to the subject. An overture should be the preface to the
work, but what must be the preface to a work without interest! Among
the airs, the most admired was that of the Magician, and above all,
two romances, one sung by Don Sancho and the other by the Page. Many
of the orchestral parts are treated with a vigor and intelligence
which would do honor to composers long disciplined in their art.

“Upon a cool and dispassionate view of the whole composition, we
must remark, that the young Liszt ought to view this, his first
dramatic work, only in the light of an experiment on the extent of
his powers. Mozart was only twelve years of age when he composed his
‘Finta Semplice’ for the theater of Vienna. The distance is immense
indeed between that essay and his ‘Don Giovanni’; but the question is
whether he would ever have created the latter wondrous opera, if his
first steps in the career of excellence had been inhumanly arrested.”

BIHARY.

A review of Liszt’s “Bohemiens” which appeared in the London _Athenæum_ of 1859 gives the following interesting sketch of Bihary, the gypsy virtuoso:

“Next we come to John Bihary, who seems to have been ‘the highest
expression’ of the gypsy virtuoso,--a brilliant player, courted at
all the courts and royally repaid for his playing:--a man as impudent
as an Italian _tenore_ of the worst class. Bihary lived in our own
time, for he gave a performance before Maria Louisa in 1814, and
there made himself so remarkable by his undisguised admiration of
one of the Imperial Princesses present, that his hostess found it
necessary to rebuke his audacious eyes. The violinist was called up
and was asked if he was a married man. His answer was ‘Yes;’ and that
his wife was with him in Vienna. On this he was bidden to present her
forthwith. Bihary’s wife was sent for on the spot. A striking looking
and still young woman, magnificently attired in the gypsy dress, was
brought. On receiving her, the Empress said to Bihary, that since
heaven had given him so beautiful and faithful a helpmate, he was
inexcusable in being so sensitive to the beauty of any princess,
recommended to him more propriety for the future, and after paying
marked compliments to Eve (Bihary’s wife), caused fifty ducats to be
given to her, and sent the pair home in one of the court carriages.
A second anecdote concerning Bihary is little less characteristic
of manners. About the year 1824 a carriage accident disabled him
for life. With true gypsy improvidence he had laid by nothing for a
rainy day, and could hardly toil through the least important part
in the band of which he had been the king. In this fallen estate it
chanced that he fell in at a tavern with some Hungarian noblemen,
who had known him in his days of court splendor and insolence. He
was prevailed on to play slowly one or two of the very easy pieces
of national music which he had yet power to master. His arm was soon
tired. On his stopping, one of his princely auditors bound it up in
bank-notes. Bihary died in 1827.”

THE HUNGARIAN GYPSY MUSIC.

“The Hungarian gypsy merely _plays_ Hungarian; he sings little or
not at all; and what is his principal instrument, and at the same
time the principal instrument of the Hungarian popular music? It is
the dulcimer or cimbalo. This instrument, consisting of a triangular
wooden frame, with a bottom and sounding board, over which wires by
twos or threes are stretched upon bridges, which are struck with two
wooden hammers, covered on the upper part with cloth or leather, is
peculiarly fitted to infuse into the little gypsy orchestra that
palpitating, feverish, tremulous essence, by which the performance of
a _Magyar nota_ gains so much. With this are associated the string
quartet, together with the contra-basso and also quite willingly
the clarinet. On the contrary all other instruments, as oböes,
flutes, fagotti, horns, trumpets, etc., are entirely excluded from a
Hungarian gypsy orchestra.

“What does the gypsy produce with these instruments? Is his music,
is the popular instrumental music any mere dance music? Essentially,
perhaps; but ere the dancing mood begins, ere joy and appetite for
pleasure hurry the _Magyar ember_ into dance and play, and make
him forget himself, he must first, in the slow, sustained tones of
a _Lassu_ (Adagio) in the minor, pour out his complainings, roll
away the sighs which hold his soul imprisoned in a melancholy gloom.
Not suddenly can his soul plunge into the fresh major tones of his
national dances; nay, he often clings to the dear minor mood after
his sadness is supposed to have given place to idle joy and pleasure.
The kind of music which we would here indicate is called in general
_Csardas_. This signifies both the dance itself and the dance music;
and as every Hungarian dance is preceded by an introductory _Lassu_,
this also is included in the term. The _Lassu_, soaring beyond the
possibility of being represented as a dance, is usually followed by
a _Frisded_, or Allegretto, of a quicker movement, but usually kept
also in the minor, yet shaped already to the dance, but only for
the _solo_ dance of men. If the _Magyar ember_ allows himself to be
drawn away from his sombre mood into a dance, it is at first only a
_solo_ dance; self-satisfied, he spins round in a circle and as yet
covets not an object for his love; only when the third part in this
psychological economy of the dance, with its quick, strong strokes,
has hurried him completely out of himself, does he begin to know no
moderation and no goal. His eye sparkles, his feet stamp, like those
of an untamed horse. To think, it is good that a man do not remain
alone, and to grasp at a maiden, are one act, and he begins with
her that wild, unbridled dance, which is called _Csardas_ in the
narrower sense of the word, or by way of distinction, _Friss_ (i. e.,
Allegro, Presto). Already in the _Lassu_, the dull brooding in which
the soul of the _Magyar ember_ swims, is crossed by some occasional
gleams of enthusiasm; but in the _Frisded_ the dark clouds of sadness
begin first to break away, and the _Friss_ tears away entirely the
thin veil which yet lay on his soul and left him in a self-contented
solitude. Now no repose is longer to be thought of; from melancholy
it becomes impetuous passion; from pain unbounded pleasure; in short,
his Me, delivered from itself, riots and storms away until his feet
refuse their service.”--_Neue Zeitschrift fuer Musik._

HEINE ON LISZT.

“That such a restless head, driven and perplexed by all the needs and
doctrines of his time, feeling the necessity of troubling himself
about all the necessities of humanity, and eagerly sticking his nose
into all the pots in which the good God brews the future, that Franz
Liszt can be no still piano-forte player for tranquil townsfolks
and good-natured nightcaps is self-evident. When he sits down at
the piano, and has stroked his hair back over his forehead several
times, and begins to improvise, he often storms away right madly
over the ivory keys, and there rings out a wilderness of heaven-high
thoughts, amid which, here and there, the sweetest flowers diffuse
their fragrance, so that one is at once troubled and beatified, but
troubled most.

“I confess to you, much as I love Liszt, his music does not operate
agreeably upon my mind; the more so that I am a Sunday child and
also _see_ the specters which others only hear; since, as you
know, at every tone which the hand strikes upon the key-board the
corresponding tone-figure rises in my mind; in short, since music
becomes visible to my inward eye. My brain still reels at the
recollection of the concert in which I last heard Liszt play. It
was in a concert for the unfortunate Italians, in the hotel of
that beautiful, noble and suffering princess who so beautifully
represents her material and her spiritual fatherland, to wit,
Italy and Heaven. * * * * (You surely have seen her in Paris, that
ideal form which yet is but the prison in which the holiest angel
soul has been imprisoned. * * But this prison is so beautiful that
every one lingers before it as if enchanted, and gazes at it with
astonishment.) * * It was in a concert for the benefit of the unhappy
Italians when I last heard Liszt, last winter, play, I know not
what, but I could swear he varied upon themes from the Apocalypse.
At first I could not quite distinctly see them, the four mystical
beasts; I only heard their voices, especially the roaring of the lion
and the screaming of the eagle. The ox with the book in his hand I
saw clearly enough. Best of all he played the Valley of Jehosaphat.
There were lists as at a tournament, and for spectators, the risen
people, pale as the grave and trembling, crowded round the immense
space. First galloped Satan into the lists, in black harness, on a
milk-white steed. Slowly rode behind him, Death on his pale horse. At
last Christ appeared, in golden armor, on a black horse, and with His
holy lance He first thrust Satan to the ground, and then Death, and
the spectators shouted.”

HEINRICH HEINE.

A LETTER FROM BERLIOZ TO LISZT.

The following is an extract from a letter written by Berlioz to Liszt in 1843, as it appears in the former’s “Musical Wandering through Germany:”

“Proudly you can exclaim, like Louis XIV, ‘I am the orchestra! I am
the chorus! At my grand piano I sing, dream, rejoice, and it excels
in its rapidity the nimblest bows. Like the orchestra, it has its
whispering flutes and pealing horns, and without any preparation
can, like that, breathe the evening breeze from its silvery clouds
of magic chords and tender melodies. It requires no scenes, no
decorations, no spacious stage; I need not weary myself with
tedious rehearsals; I want neither a hundred, nor fifty, nor twenty
assistants; I need not one, and can even do without music. A large
hall, a grand piano, and I am master of a whole audience. Applause
resounds through the room.’ When his memory awakens brilliant
fantasies under his fingers, shouts of enthusiasm welcome them. Then
he sings Schubert’s _Ave Maria_, or Beethoven’s _Adelaide_, and
every heart bounds to meet him, every breath is hushed in agitated
silence, in suppressed amazement. Then, high in air ascend the
thundering strife and glittering finale of these mighty fireworks
and the acclamations of the admiring public. Now, amid a shower
of wreaths and blossoms, the priest of harmony ascends his golden
tripod, beautiful maidens approach, to kiss with tears the hem of
his garment; to him belongs the sincere admiration of earnest minds,
as well as the involuntary homage of the envious; to him bend noble
forms, to him bow hearts who do not comprehend their own emotions.

“And the next day, having poured forth the inexhaustible treasure of
his inspiration, he hastens away, leaving behind him a glittering
train of glory and enthusiasm. It is a dream! One of those golden
dreams which one has when he is named Liszt or Paganini.”

HESSE’S CRITICISM OF LISZT.

Hesse, the famous German organist, after hearing Liszt play at Breslau, in 1859, recalls his playing sixteen years previously in the same place. He writes to the Breslauer _Zeitung_:

“On the 9th of May, a grand concert was arranged in the Schiesswerder
Hall, by Herr Doctor Leopold Damrosch, in honor of, and with the
cooperation of, the Court-Capellmeister Herr Doctor FRANZ LISZT.
Liszt, the great, genial master of the piano-forte, who with his
achievements on this instrument alarmed the world, gave eleven
concerts here in Breslau in the year 1843, with ever increasing
success. He electrified his hearers by such playing as _no one_ had
shown before. Whoever thought to give himself up to his playing with
the calm and comfortable feeling that he would to the performances
of Hummel and other masters, was greatly mistaken. Liszt transferred
his moods to the piano. He screwed up the feelings of the hearer to
a pitch of feverish excitement, but he allowed them also to subside
occasionally. We were at that time so fortunate as to be daily
in his presence and admire his magical play. His repertoire was
multifarious; he played all masters.

“We will not waste words about his gigantic _technique_, his art
of singing on the instrument, etc.; these are well-known things;
thousands have heard him. But we can not forbear alluding to one
composition; we mean his ‘Reminiscences from Don Juan,’ one of the
most genial of piano pieces. We lament for any one who has not heard
him play these reminiscences. The marble guest on horseback, the
insinuating Don Juan with his _La ci darem_, the struggling and at
last consenting Zerlina, the Champagne song, etc., all this did
Liszt pass before our minds in such a way that we forgot Liszt,
concert-hall and all; one awoke from the performance as from a
blissful dream. Four times we heard this piece by him, and always
with the same emotions.”

LISZT’S PRINCIPAL SCHOLARS.

HANS VON BUELOW, Meiningen.
[B]CARL TAUSIG.
[B]FRANZ BENDEL.
HANS VON BRONSART, Hanover.
CARL KLINDWORTH, Moscow.
ALEXANDER WINTERBERGER, St. Petersburg.
JULIUS REUBKE.
[B]THEODORE RATZENBERGER.
[B]ROBERT PFLUGHAUPT.
FREDERICK ALTSCHUL.
[B]NICHOLAS NEILISSOFF.
CARL BAERMANN, Munich.
DIONYS PRUCKNER, Stuttgart.
FERDINAND SCHREIBER.
LOUIS ROTHFELD.
J. SIPASS, Budapest.
GEORGE LEITERT.
JULIUS RICHTER.
LOUIS JUNGMANN, Weimar.
WILLIAM MASON, New York.
MAX PINNER, New York.
JULES ZAREMBSKY, Brussels.
G. SGAMBATI, Rome.
CARLO LIPPI, Rome.
SIEGFRIED LANGAARD, Denmark.
CARL POHLIG.
ARTHUR FRIEDHEIM.
L. MAREK, Limberg.
F. REUSS, Baden-Baden.
BERTHRAND ROTH, Frankfort.
---- KOLLERMAN.
CARL STASNY.
JOSEPH WIENIAWSKY.
INGEBORG STARK-BRONSART.
SOPHIE MENTER-POPPER.
[B]SOPHIE PFLUGHAUPT.
[B]ALINE HUNDT.
PAULINE FICHTNER-ERDMANNSDOERFER.
AHRENDA BLUME.
ANNA MEHLIG.
VERA TIMANOFF, Russia.
MARTHA REMMERT.
SARA MAGNUS-HEINZE.
DORA PETERSON.
ILONKA RAVACZ, Hungary.
CECILIA GAUL, America.
MARIE BREIDENSTEIN, Erfurt.
AMY FAY, America.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Hungarian for “Franz.”

[B] Deceased.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is
entered into the public domain.