Chapter V: Appendix: 273 (4)

At about five o'clock in the afternoon, looking out of my window, I would frequently see Raff coming over the path leading through the park, with a bundle of manuscript under his arm. He liked to come and play to me what he had composed. His playing was not artistic, because he paid little attention to it, and he did not attempt to elaborate or finish his style.

He composed very rapidly, and many of his compositions do not amount to much. He could not get decent remuneration for good music, and he had to live; therefore he wrote many pieces that were of the jingling sort, because his publishers paid well for them. Sometimes, however, he turned out a composition which was really worthy, and among his works are symphonies, sonatas, trios, and chamber-music which gained him reputation. His symphony "Im Walde" is well known in the musical world, and his "Cavatina" for violin, although not a piece of importance, is one of the most popular and effective violin solos and exists in various arrangements. At times he was much dejected, and there was a dash of bitterness in his disposition. I think he felt that, being obliged to turn out music for a living, he would never attain the rank to which his talents entitled him.

In promoting the cause of Wagner, Raff did considerable work for which Liszt got the credit. I think that at one time Raff acted as Liszt's private secretary; but he had decided ideas of his own, and knew how to express them. Being generally in close accord with Liszt, and having a ready pen, he rendered great assistance in promulgating the doctrines of the new school by means of essays, brochures, and newspaper articles. Of course much that he wrote was based upon suggestions made by Liszt. Raff was a tower of strength in himself, while at the same time acting as Liszt's mouthpiece in the Wagner propaganda.

DR. ADOLF BERNHARD MARX

When Dr. Adolf B. Marx of Berlin was in Weimar in June, 1853, it was by invitation of Liszt for the purpose of bringing out a new oratorio which he had just composed. As usual on such occasions, we gave him a warm reception, and Liszt arranged a midday dinner at the Hotel zum Erbprinzen, at which some eight or ten guests were present. In the afternoon we all attended a rehearsal of the oratorio, which lasted from four o'clock until eleven o'clock P.M. According to my present recollections, the work did not have a brilliant success. I was reminded of this event by the receipt of the following letter in March, 1901, from an old friend, Mr. Adolph Stange, who happened to be present on the occasion:

SUWALKI, POLAND, RUSSIA,

24 January, 1901.

DEAR DR. MASON: When you wrote your "Memories of a Musical Life,"
July-October, 1900, of Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, you
probably did not have any presentiment that there is in a distant
country, far from you, somebody who only by one day younger than
yourself (born January 25, 1829) will be reading with the greatest
interest your excellent and truthful description of different
musical celebrities and authorities. Being myself for many years a
pupil of Gerke and of Henselt in St. Petersburg, I had been with
many of the eminent men you name personally acquainted; with
Moscheles and Rubinstein I had more often and more intimate
relations, and my delight was naturally great in reading your true
and graphic account of some of my former musical friends. It is
indeed with a feeling of admiration and gratitude that I am now
addressing these lines to its author. Your interesting description
of your stay at Weimar in 1853 gave me special pleasure, as in that
same year, in May, June, and July, I had also been with Liszt in
Weimar, and I remember you, dear Dr. Mason, perfectly, as well as
Klindworth, Pruckner, the two Wieniawskis, Winterberger, Raff, and
others; they are all living in my memory. That period of my youth
is full of the most beautiful and noble impressions.

Your account of that incomparable meister we both, I dare say,
equally admire, awakened in me Liszt's greatness as artist, and
still more, if I may say so, the greatness of his nature and
character, so richly endowed with so many generous and noble
instincts; and I recall with delight to my mind our pleasant walks
in the Schlossgarten, where we visited Klindworth in his modest
apartments; the supper at the Hotel zum Erbprinzen, where Liszt
wished to get acquainted with the card-game "preference," which I
had to show him; our visits to the Schloss, in the ground floor of
which we listened to Liszt's divine playing and afterward got
invited to dine up-stairs with the Princess Wittgenstein and her
charming daughter. I believe you had already left Weimar when
Professor Adolf Marx came from Berlin to visit Liszt and brought
with him the score of his new oratorio. Marx wished to say a few
words about its performance to Liszt before the first rehearsal,
but was much disappointed, as he told me, not to find an
appropriate moment to speak with the meister, whose attention was
constantly taken up by his pupils. On the day of the rehearsal,
Marx, who was sitting next to me, again expressed his regret at not
having found an opportunity to talk the matter over with Liszt.
Shortly after the rehearsal had commenced I felt several times
Marx's elbows, which, giving way to his enthusiasm, came in close
and sensible contact with mine. At last he exclaimed: "Liszt
guesses my most secret thoughts and intentions in my own
composition!" ...

Let me, dear Dr. Mason, assure you what real and intense enjoyment
I experienced by the perusal of your "Musical Memories," and beg
to thank you from all my heart for giving me the possibility of
recalling once over again those dear and ever-present reminiscences
of a bygone but ever-delightful time in my life. It is seldom one
can read in a biography a description like yours, which expresses
in a few words, with so much reality, truthfulness, and
impartiality, the characteristics of a whole series of well-known
artists. Finally, you will ask: "Stranger, who art thou?" I will
not, like _Lohengrin_, make a mystery of it, but answer your
question: I wanted to become what you are now! After my return from
Weimar, however, where I had been for a time Liszt's pupil, I
entered into Russian state service, remaining, nevertheless, during
my whole life, though a dilettante, a great and fervent admirer of
that art, and a real artist in my heart. I sign, with veneration to
your person, Dr. Mason, and have the honor to remain,

Yours very truly,

ADOLPH STANGE.

BERLIOZ IN WEIMAR

Hector Berlioz came to Weimar occasionally, and I remember particularly one of his visits, which took place in May, 1854. He was famous as an orchestral conductor, and I saw him in this capacity in a concert the program of which consisted exclusively of his own compositions. These were especially attractive on account of their magnificent orchestral coloring. In this regard he was certainly wonderful, and produced many gorgeous effects. His masterly skill and intelligence in the treatment and development of his themes were also everywhere apparent. Every detail received careful attention, and the result was admirable.

Not long afterward he gave a similar concert in the Leipsic Gewandhaus Hall, on which occasion the Weimar contingent was of course present. There was no need of our services as claqueurs, however, for the hall was crowded and the audience demonstrative.

Schubert was spontaneous and inspired, and thus stands in contrast to Berlioz. Melody gushed from Schubert at such a rate, and musical ideas crowded upon each other so rapidly, that he did not take time to work up his compositions. There are a few which he elaborated with care, but they are the exceptions, and emphasize the general spontaneity of his work. If he had constructive power,--and certain passages in his work show that he had,--he nevertheless failed to make adequate use of it. His music is charming and delightful on account of its melodious freshness and naivete. It appeals directly to the heart. The only drawback is his servile adherence to conventionalities, such, for instance, as the old method of invariably repeating every section of a movement.

Beethoven stands as the model of constructive power and emotional expression in happy equipoise. Both the head and the heart are satisfactorily employed, and in his orchestral treatment they find full expression. This is true of all of his concerted works; but his weak point is manifested in his pianoforte compositions, especially in the sonatas, which are not idiomatic of the instrument for which they were written. It is not intended to find fault with the music _per se_. It is simply to say that his ideas are all orchestrally conceived, and as they are not in the nature of the pianoforte, that instrument is inadequate to their true expression. The sonatas are not pianistic, idiomatic--_klaviermaessig_. Had he written them for orchestra, we would have had thirty-two symphonies.

Chopin's compositions are the very essence and consummation of the piano, and he is, therefore, the pianoforte composer _par excellence_. On the other hand, his orchestral work is weak and incompetent, as, for example, the accompaniment to his concertos and some other pieces.

Schumann is at home in both directions. He is polyphonic in orchestral treatment, and at the same time thoroughly pianistic. Without suggesting comparisons, his music is _musical_ and complete. Beethoven's is heroic.

ENTERTAINING LISZT'S "YOUNG BEETHOVEN"

Liszt sometimes left Weimar for a few days in order to be present at or to conduct music festivals. On one of these occasions, early in June, 1854, I remained alone at home on account of slight illness. As Klindworth had gone to London for concert-playing and pianoforte-teaching, I had moved into a suite of rooms in the Hotel zum Erbprinzen. As a matter of interest to pianists I here note the fact that these identical rooms had been occupied by Hummel several years previously.

On the afternoon of the day on which Liszt left with his cortege the head waiter came to me, saying that a young man who had just arrived was in the cafe inquiring for Liszt and seemed disappointed on learning of his absence. "I told him," said the waiter, "that you were the only one of the family here. Will you see him?" I assented, and in a few moments he ushered in a young man about twenty-four years of age, of strong features and with a great shock of dark hair, who introduced himself as Anton Rubinstein. I explained to him that Liszt had gone away for three or four days to conduct a festival, that I could not say precisely when he would return; but in the meantime, if I could make him feel at home, I should be very glad.

After some conversation he asked me to play. I remember very well how he looked sitting on the sofa, and the position of the piano in the room. I played, but he did not. I had a suspicion that he was inveigling me into playing without any intention of allowing me to take his measure. He sat there like a gruff Russian bear; or perhaps my imagination helped to produce this impression.

Rubinstein was already quite well known as a child prodigy, but of course not nearly so famous as he afterward became. I do not recollect paying him very much attention during Liszt's absence, but, then, he did not allow me--he was rambling about all the time; nor did I hear him play before Liszt came back. When Liszt returned, Rubinstein was immediately invited to take up his residence on the Altenburg. I remember that there, one afternoon, he played many of his own compositions. His playing was full of rush and fire, and characterized by strong emotional temperament. He had a big technic and reveled in dash and fire. Those who heard Mark Hambourg here during the winter of 1899-1900 can form a very good idea of Rubinstein's personal appearance at the time of which I write, and also his very pronounced style of playing. His early touch lacked the mellow and tender beauty of tone which distinguished it in later years.

RUBINSTEIN'S OPPOSITION TO WAGNER

Rubinstein's well-known dislike of Wagner, it seems to me, was temperamental in a large degree, and it was quite natural that he was not in agreement with him. Doubtless Chopin would not have approved of Wagner's music, whatever he might have thought of his method. The melodies of Chopin and Rubinstein are full of sentiment and well defined, and their compositions run in entirely opposite channels from those of Wagner, whose music is a vast sensuous upheaval, which proceeds uninterruptedly from the beginning of an act to the end.

All musicians have a good deal of self-esteem. Rubinstein had his own way of composing, which corresponded to his musical temperament. He had to write everything just as it suited his musical ear, and he could not conceive of any one else having as fine a musical ear as he. At all events, he never stopped long enough to find out if any one else had. Few musicians do. Liszt was fond of Rubinstein, and used to call him the "young Beethoven," on account of a certain fancied resemblance he bore to the great composer. He also recognized Rubinstein's great ability as a pianist, although I think that as a player he rated Tausig much higher. Many years after I left Weimar a relative of mine met Liszt in Rome. She had a short time previous to this heard Rubinstein in concert, and was in a state of great enthusiasm about his playing, and so expressed herself to Liszt. His sole comment was, "Have you ever heard Tausig?" The inference was that those who had heard Rubinstein and not Tausig had missed hearing the greater of the two. I think Liszt regarded Tausig as the best of all his pupils.

As I have said once before in these pages, I never saw Liszt after leaving Weimar in July, 1854. I occasionally received letters from him--several of them quite long and exceedingly entertaining. One of these (the original in French) is reproduced here because it is characteristic of his pleasantry and good humor:

MY DEAR MASON: Although I do not know at what stage of your
brilliant artistic peregrinations these lines will reach you, I
feel assured that you are not ignorant that I am very, very
sincerely and affectionately obliged to you for keeping me in kind
remembrance, a fact to which the musical journals which you have
sent me bear good witness. The "Musical Gazette" of New York has in
particular given me genuine satisfaction, not alone on account of
the agreeable and flattering things concerning me personally which
it contains, but furthermore because this journal seems to me to
inculcate an excellent and superior direction of opinion in your
country. As you know, my dear Mason, I have no other self-interest
than to serve the good cause of art so far as is possible, and
wherever I find men who are making conscientious efforts in the
same direction, I rejoice and am strengthened by the good example
which they give me. Be so good as to present to your brother, the
head editor of the "Musical Review", as I suppose, my very sincere
thanks and compliments. If he would like to receive some
communication from Weimar upon matters of interest which occur in
the musical world of Germany, I will willingly have them sent to
him through the medium of Mr. Pohl, who, by the way, does not live
any longer at Dresden, where the numbers of the "Musical Gazette"
were addressed by mistake, but at Weimar in the Kaufstrasse. His
wife, one of the best harpists that I know, stands among the
virtuosos of our "Chapelle", and is an important factor in the
representation of the opera, as also in concerts.

Apropos of concerts, in a few days I will send you the program of a
series of symphonic performances, which ought to have been
established here several years ago, and to which I consider it an
honor and a duty to give definite encouragement from the year 1855.

I expect Berlioz toward the end of January. We shall then hear his
trilogy "L'Enfance du Christ", of which you already know "La Fuite
en Egypte". To this he has added two other short oratorios, "Le
Songe d'Herode" and "L'Arrivee a Sais".

The dramatic symphony "Faust" (in four parts, with solos and
choruses) will also be given in full during his stay here.

In regard to visits from artists who have been personally agreeable
to me during the last month, I would name Clara Schumann and
Litolff.

In Brendel's journal, "Neue Zeitschrift", you will find an article
signed with my name, on Mme. Schumann, whom I have again heard with
that sympathy and absolute admiration which her talent compels.

As for Litolff, I confess that he has made a very vivid impression
on me. His fourth concerto symphony (manuscript) is a very
remarkable composition, and he played it in so masterly a manner,
with such verve, with such boldness and certainty, that I derived
intense pleasure from it.

If there was a little of the quadruped in the amazing execution of
Dreyschock (and this comparison should not vex him; is not the lion
classed among quadrupeds as well as the poodle?), in that of
Litolff, there is certainly something _winged_; moreover, he has
all the superiority over Dreyschock that a biped having ideas,
imagination, and sensibility has over another biped which imagines
itself possessed of all this wealth--often very embarrassing!

Do you continue your familiar intercourse with the Old Cognac in
the New World, my dear Mason? Let me again commend _measure_ to
you, an essential quality for musicians. In truth, I am not too
well qualified to extol the _quantity_ of this _quality_, for, if I
remember rightly, I have often employed tempo rubato when I was
giving my concerts (work which I would not begin again for anything
in the world), and even quite recently I have written a long
symphony in three parts, called "Faust" (without text or vocal
parts), in which the _horrible_ measures 7/8, 7/4, 5/4 alternate
with common time and 3/4. By virtue of which I conclude that you
should be satisfied with 7/8 of a little bottle of old cognac in
the evening, and never exceed five quarts!

Raff, in his first volume of "Wagner Frage", has thoroughly
realized something like _five quarts_ of doctrinal sufficiency, but
that is an unadvisable example to copy in a critical matter, and
above all in the matter of cognac and other spirits!

My dear Mason, excuse these bad jokes, justified only by my good
intentions; that you may bear yourself valiantly, physically and
morally, is the most cordial wish of

Your very friendly affectionate
F. LISZT.

WEIMAR, December 14, 1854.

You did not know Rubinstein in Weimar?[2] He spent some time here,
and was conspicuously different from the opaque mass of self-styled
_composer-pianists_ who do not even know what it is to play the
piano, still less with what fuel it is necessary to heat one's self
in order to compose, so that with what they lack in talent for
composition they fancy themselves pianists, and vice versa.

Rubinstein will publish forthwith about fifty
compositions--concertos, trios, symphonies, songs, light pieces,
etc., which deserve notice.

Laub has left Weimar. Ed. Singer takes his place in our orchestra.
The latter gives much pleasure here, and is pleased himself also.

Cornelius, Pohl, Raff, Pruckner, Schreiber, and all the new school
of the new Weimar send you their friendliest greetings, to which I
add a hearty _shake-hand_.

F. L.

Other letters received from Liszt are perhaps not very important, but with one exception never having been published before, they are printed in the Appendix.

Pupils of Liszt and Thalberg and their pupils in search of an entertaining diversion may amuse themselves by tracing their musical pedigree back to Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, and thus lay claim to very distinguished ancestry, as shown in the following table:

Liszt, Franz, born Oct. 22, 1811.
Czerny, Carl, born Feb. 21, 1791.
Beethoven, Ludwig van, born Dec. 16, 1770.
Neefe, Christian G., born Feb. 5, 1748.
Hiller, Johann A., born Dec. 25, 1728.
Homilius, G. A., born Feb. 2, 1714.
Bach, Johann Sebastian, born March 21, 1685.
Thalberg, Sigismond, born Jan. 7, 1812.
Hummel, J. N., born Nov. 14, 1778.
Mozart, Wolfgang A., born Jan. 27, 1756.

If there be any whose pride is not sufficiently nourished by this display, they may go still further and show, by authentic records, a descent through Bach from Josquin Desprez, the most eminent contrapuntist of the Netherlands school, who lived about 1450-1521.

During the winter of 1879-80, which I spent at Wiesbaden on account of ill health, I received a very cordial invitation to visit Liszt at Weimar some time in July, and made plans to do so, which were frustrated, however, through unforeseen circumstances. Bulow, when on his first visit here, in 1875, told me that the old charm had entirely passed away. The "Golden Time" was among the things that were.

The last message I had from Liszt was brought to me by Mr. Louis Geilfuss of Steinway & Sons, who met Liszt in one of the streets of Bayreuth only a few days before his death, which occurred somewhat unexpectedly on July 31, 1886.

AT WORK IN AMERICA

When I returned from Europe in 1854 my parents had moved from Boston, and were living at Orange, New Jersey.

On landing in New York, I hurried to Boston, and went immediately to the house of Mr. Webb. This had been my constant purpose ever since the time I left America in 1849. In due course Miss Webb and I became engaged, and were married on March 12, 1857.

My first enterprise after returning from Germany was a concert tour. This I believe to have been the first exclusively pianoforte recital tour ever undertaken in this country. Gottschalk, who was here at that time, had traveled about giving concerts, but he was never without a singer or associate of some kind.

In 1863 I had attended a recital given in Frankfort, Germany, by Ferdinand Hiller, the program of which consisted exclusively of his own compositions, concluding with a free improvisation on themes suggested by the audience. My recitals were fashioned after this, only I played very few of my own pieces. The programs were somewhat similar to those of the present time, ranging from Beethoven and Chopin to Liszt. At that time Bach's name, according to my recollection, was never seen on a pianoforte-recital program. A large number of these compositions, such as Liszt's "Twelfth Rhapsody" and Chopin's "Fantasie Impromptu," were played for the first time in this country at these concerts.

TOURING THE COUNTRY

My friend Oliver Dyer managed the tour. My brothers Daniel and Lowell were at this time booksellers and publishers in New York, under the firm-name of Mason Brothers, and Mr. Dyer was connected with them in business. He was a man of action, and possessed good literary ability. He had lived for a time in Washington as reporter of speeches made in Congress, and later on he was connected with Robert Bonner on the "Ledger".

He arranged a pamphlet in which he set forth and doubtless embellished the facts connected with my sojourn in Germany and the favor with which my playing had been received. When, in the course of our tour, we arrived at a town where a lecture was to be given,--not an uncommon occurrence,--he would take down the lecture stenographically and write notices of it for the local papers. The editors appreciated this favor, and were so kindly disposed toward us that they would print any advance notices he chose to write about me. In what he wrote of me, however, I was not willing to have him go to extremes, though he would frequently slip something into the paper without my knowledge, leaving me to find fault with him the next day.

All along the route it was difficult to persuade people that an entertainment of pianoforte-playing exclusively could be made interesting. They had never heard of such a thing, and insisted that there ought to be some singing for the sake of variety. We stopped in Albany, Troy, Utica, and many other places on the way to Chicago, where I gave two concerts, one of which took place on New Year's eve. After the concert I attended a large reception given in a private residence. I remember being struck by the fact, as it seemed to me, that there were so many young ladies at this reception, and I asked the hostess if there were no married ladies in Chicago. "Why, Mr. Mason," she replied, "there are only two or three unmarried ladies in the room." At that period Chicago was full of young men who had come from the Eastern States, principally New England. After staying in Chicago for two or three years and getting well started in business they would get married, many of them going to their native places for their brides. This accounted for the youthful appearance of the assemblage, and illustrates in part the very rapid growth of Chicago.

Up to the time we arrived in Chicago we had rainy weather constantly, and partly on this account we were out of pocket. Dyer was for going back to New York by the quickest route. I said: "No; I am going back through the same towns, and shall give concerts in every one of them. If the people liked my playing well enough they will come again and bring their neighbors. If they did not like it, I shall soon find it out." As it turned out, I had much larger audiences all the way home.

"YANKEE DOODLE" AND "OLD HUNDRED"

Copying the custom of Ferdinand Hiller, I used to close my concerts by an improvisation upon themes suggested by the audience. All sorts of themes were put into the hat--from Mozart, Beethoven, "Jordan is a hard road to travel," "We won't go home till morning," and many negro melodies. I had a faculty of developing a subject in such a way as to hold my audience.

One night somebody sent up the request that I should play simultaneously "Old Hundred" with one hand and "Yankee Doodle" with the other. This I did, merely to show that even two such dis-similar melodies could be played together in a musical way. There was a good deal of applause, but also considerable hissing from the religions element, so I made a speech explaining that I meant no disrespect to "Old Hundred" by placing it in such close connection with "Yankee Doodle," and that the melody which had to a certain extent been adopted as a national air was on that account worthy of being played with any hymn.

Fifteen years later, in 1870, George F. Root, who had assisted my father in his musical convention work in the East, but who had settled in Chicago and was doing the same kind of pioneer work in the West, was holding a summer musical convention in South Bend, Indiana. He wished to introduce piano as well as vocal teaching, and invited me to take charge of the piano classes. It was a fearfully hot summer, and during the month I was in South Bend the temperature was continuously close to 100 deg.. Toward the close of the season concerts were given, and it was so hot that in lieu of a dress-coat I wore a linen duster, cut off at the waist.

At the last concert I received a request from two or three people to play "Yankee Doodle" with one hand and "Old Hundred" with the other. Possibly they had heard me do so in 1855. Remembering my experience then, I made a few remarks, in which I told them that some little feeling had been created fifteen years before by my doing the same thing, but that--and here I got a little mixed--in playing "Yankee Doodle" with "Old Hundred" I did not intend any disrespect to "Yankee Doodle." At this the audience began to laugh. Schuyler Colfax, who was then Vice-President of the United States, was on the stage behind me, and I could hear him chuckling. I thought to myself, "Well, I have made some funny mistake, though I don't know what it is, so I won't go back and try to correct it."

Afterward Mr. Colfax, who was a noted speaker, told me that whenever he made a _lapsus linguae_, if it amused the audience he never attempted to correct it.

On my return from this concert tour to New York, I established the series of chamber-music concerts which, begun as an experiment, continued thirteen years. I also settled down as a teacher. While I had returned from Weimar with the full intention of continuing my career as a piano-virtuoso, and while my concert tour had been promising enough, I found that the public demanded a constant repetition of pieces to which it happened to take a liking, and I knew that I should soon weary of playing the same things over and over again. Moreover, I felt that from my father I had inherited a certain capacity for giving instruction, and that the chamber-music concerts and engagements with the Philharmonic and at other concerts in New York and elsewhere would serve to keep up my practice as a virtuoso.

SETTLING DOWN TO TEACH

In 1855 I accepted as pupils some four or five young ladies who were being educated at a fashionable boarding-school in New York. One of these girls was very bright and intelligent but without special musical talent. She was extremely averse to application in study, and the problem for me was to invent some way by which mental concentration could be compelled, for from the moment she sat down to the piano to practise she was constantly looking at the clock to see if her practice-hour was up. After a little study I found that in playing a scale up one octave and back, without intermission, in 9/8 time, there are necessarily nine repetitions of the scale before the initial tone falls again on the first part of the measure. Thus,

and so on until another accent falls upon the initial C. Such an exercise is called a rhythmus, and the repetitions compel mental concentration just as surely as the addition of a column of figures does. I found that if the compass was extended four octaves, thus, from

the nine repetitions of the scale would require from three to four minutes if played at a moderate rate of speed. I saw at once that a state of mental concentration could not be avoided by the pupil, and that in this exercise lay a basic principle. I gave the exercise to my pupil. The result was that when the next lesson-hour came around and I asked her how she found the new exercise, she exclaimed: "How do I like it? Why, you have played a pretty trick on me! It took me nearly an hour to accomplish it; but I like it. Why did you not give it to me before!" "Because," I said, "I invented it simply in order to compel your attention to your work." Following up the principle of grouping the tones, I applied the rhythmic process not only to all sorts of scale passages, but included in the treatment arpeggios, broken chords, octaves, and in fact all passages idiomatic of the pianoforte. The work of amplification was readily accomplished, and the result was a complete method in which for the first time, so far as I am aware, scientific rhythmic treatment was elaborated. This "Accentual Treatment of Exercises," as I called the system, was first published in the Mason & Hoadley Method, New York, 1867. The importance of accentual treatment is now recognized in every modern method.

The idea of starting a series of matinees of chamber-music occurred to me. I wished especially to introduce to the public the "Grand Trio in B Major, Op. 8," by Johannes Brahms, and to play other concerted works, both classical and modern, for this kind of work interested me more than mere piano-playing. So I asked Carl Bergmann, who was the most noted orchestral conductor of those days, and thus well acquainted with musicians, to get together a good string quartet. This he accomplished in a day or two, and made me acquainted with Theodore Thomas, first violin; Joseph Mosenthal, second violin; and George Matzka, viola, Bergmann himself being the violoncellist. We very soon began rehearsing, and our first concert, or rather matinee, took place in Dodworth's Hall, opposite Eleventh street, and one door above Grace Church in Broadway. The program was as follows:

Tuesday, November 27, 1855

1. Quartet in D Minor, Strings _Schubert_

2. Romance from Tannhaeuser,
"Abendstern" _Wagner_

3. Pianoforte Solo, Fantasie Impromptu,
Op. 66 (first time) _Chopin_
Deux Preludes, D flat and G,
Op. 24 _Heller_

4. Variations Concertante for
Violoncello and Piano, Op. 17 _Mendelssohn_

5. "Feldwaerts flog ein Voeglein" _Nicolai_

6. Grand Trio in B Major, Op. 8,
Piano, Violin, and Cello (first
time) _Brahms_

It will be observed that we started out with a novelty, Brahms's Trio, which was played then for the first time in America. I repeated it in Boston a few weeks later with the assistance of some members of the Mendelssohn Quintet Club. It received appreciation on both occasions and was listened to attentively, but without enthusiasm. The newspapers spoke well of it in general, but there were some who regarded it as constrained and unnatural. The vocal pieces were inserted in deference to the prevailing idea of the period that no musical entertainment could be enjoyed by the public without some singing. We quickly got over that notion, and thenceforth, with rare exceptions, our programs were confined to instrumental music.

It was my purpose in organizing these concerts to make a point of producing chamber-work, which had never before been heard here, especially those of Schumann and other modern writers.

THEODORE THOMAS AT TWENTY

The organization as originally formed would probably have remained intact during all the years the concerts lasted had it not become apparent almost from the start that Theodore Thomas had in him the genius of conductorship. He possessed by nature a thoroughly musical organization and was a born conductor and leader.

Before we had been long together it became apparent that there was more or less friction between Thomas and Bergmann, who, being the conductor of the Germania and afterward of the Philharmonic orchestras, also a player of long experience and the organizer of the quartet, naturally assumed the leadership in the beginning. The result was that Bergmann withdrew after the first year, and Bergner, a fine violoncellist and active member of the Philharmonic Society, took his place. The organization was then called the Mason and Thomas Quartet, and so styled it won a wide reputation throughout the country. I should say in passing that Bergmann was an excellent though not a great conductor.

MATZKA, MOZENTHAL, BERGNER, THOMAS, MASON]

From the time that Thomas took the leadership free and untrammeled, the quartet improved rapidly. His dominating influence was felt and acknowledged by us all. Moreover, he rapidly developed a talent for making programs by putting pieces into the right order of sequence, thus avoiding incongruities. He brought this art to perfection in the arrangement of his symphony concert programs.

Our viola, Matzka, was also an excellent musician, and for many years the first viola of the Philharmonic orchestra. Mosenthal, who played second violin, achieved a wide reputation as composer and conductor, in which latter capacity he did splendid work for the Mendelssohn Glee Club. He was also one of the best teachers of piano and violin in New York.

THOMAS AS CONDUCTOR

Thomas's fame as a conductor has entirely overshadowed his earlier reputation as a violinist. He had a large tone, the tone of a player of the highest rank. He lacked the perfect finish of a great violinist, but he played in a large, quiet, and reposeful manner. This seemed to pass from his violin-playing into his conducting, in which there is the same sense of largeness and dignity, coupled, however, with the artistic finish which he lacked as a violinist. He is a very great conductor, the greatest we have ever had here, not only in the Beethoven symphonies and other classical music, but in Liszt, Wagner, and the extreme moderns. Why should he not conduct Wagner as well as anybody else, or better? Everything is large about Wagner, and everything is large about Thomas. His rates of tempo are in accord with those of the most celebrated conductors whom I heard fifty years ago. In modern times the tendency has been toward an increased rate of speed, and this detracts in large measure from the impressiveness of the works, especially those of Mozart, Beethoven, Von Weber, and others.

That the skilful orchestral conductor does not rely solely upon the ear but sometimes receives assistance from the eye in his work is illustrated by an experience of Theodore Thomas which he related while dining at my house some two years since. On one occasion, when a benefit concert was tendered to him, the orchestra was increased to jubilee dimensions, and I think there were sixteen violoncello-players, with other instruments in due proportion. During the final rehearsal Mr. Thomas became aware of some imperfections, probably of phrasing, and traced the error to the violoncellists, but could not at first detect the individual whose fault it was. On closer scrutiny he observed that one of them was bowing in the wrong way, and thus obscuring the phrasing.

The newspapers, in reviewing the concert, mentioned this incident as illustrating the wonderfully sensitive ear of the conductor, whereas on this occasion, at least, the eye was the detective agent.

It is possible, however, for a trained ear to detect errors in mere manipulation, and I am reminded by one of my former pupils that, having taken advantage, during one of his lessons, of my momentary absence in an adjoining room, to play a passage according to his own ideas of proper technic, he was astonished to hear me call out to him that he had used the wrong finger in striking one of the keys.

That Thomas had entire confidence in himself was shown in the outset of his career. One evening, as he came home tired out from his work, and after dinner had settled himself in a comfortable place for a good rest, a message came to him from the Academy of Music, about two blocks away from his house in East Twelfth street. An opera season was in progress there. The orchestra was in its place, and the audience seated, when word was received that Anschuetz, the conductor, was ill. The management had not provided against that contingency, and was in a position of much embarrassment. Would Thomas come to the rescue? He had never conducted opera, and the work for the evening's performance was an opera with which he was unfamiliar. Here was a life's opportunity, and Thomas was equal to the occasion. He thought for a moment, then said, "I will." He rose quickly, got himself into his dress-suit, hurried to the Academy of Music, and conducted the opera as if it were a common experience. He was not a man to say, "Give me time until next week." He was always ready for every opportunity.

ABOUT TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD]

On Christmas day, 1900, a friend presented me with a calendar for the year 1901. It has a leaf for each day of the year. The calendar evidently required much labor in preparation, and necessitated correspondence with many friends at home as well as abroad, and many are the cordial responses that were received. The result is a daily pleasure and surprise. The leaf for February 11, 1901, the day of my present writing, has reference to the third concert of chamber-music, eighth season of Mason and Thomas, which took place on Tuesday evening, February 10, 1862:

Tuesday, February 10, 1862

The third soiree of Mason and Thomas had the following program:

Quartet, C Major, No. 2 _Cherubini_
Piano Trio, D Major, Op. 70, No. 1 _Beethoven_
Quartet, A Major, Op. 41, No. 3 _Schumann_

A program as interesting and fresh to-day as thirty-eight years
ago. The weather was very cold,--below zero,--and during the largo
of the trio the gas gave out. We continued playing for some time,
but finally had to stop. The "Geister" [the composition here
referred to is called by the Germans the "Geister Trio"] did not
assist us! Do you remember the fact?

Es ist schon lange her.

THEODORE THOMAS.

KARL KLAUSER, MUSICAL DIRECTOR AT MISS PORTER'S SCHOOL

Through Mosenthal our quartet became acquainted with Mr. Karl Klauser, who was an active and enthusiastic musician of thorough education, and who has accomplished a great deal of useful work both as a compiler and teacher of classic and modern compositions. Mr. Klauser is a native of St. Petersburg, born of German parents; he came to New York in 1850, and was engaged as musical director in Miss Porter's famous school for young ladies in 1855, a post which he filled with credit and ability for many years. He was enthusiastically fond of chamber-music, and frequently attended the rehearsals of our quartet; and it was through him that we were induced to give recitals in Farmington six months after our beginning in New York. On Thursday, June 26, 1856, our program was as follows:

String Quartet in E flat, No. 4 _Mozart_
Trio, Piano, Violin, and Violoncello, G Minor, Op. 15, No. 2 _Rubinstein_
Variations from Quartet No. 5 _Beethoven_
Also solos for pianoforte and for violoncello.

On the following day another recital was given, with an entire change of program.

At that time one of the undergraduates of the school was a young girl who is now the wife of a distinguished lawyer of New York, and is herself prominent in good works. Not long ago I received from her the following very agreeable letter about the early Farmington days:

MY DEAR DR. MASON: I am glad to hear that you are to share your
pleasant "Memories" with your friends. I hope, in looking back to
the happy times when you were young, you will not forget your
annual visits to dear old Farmington; for if you do not remember
them in words, many old admirers will wonder how you could fail to
make much of occasions so precious to them.

As one of Miss Porter's girls, who can now live over again the
coming to town of William Mason, Theodore Thomas, J. Mosenthal, G.
Matzka, F. Bergner, and the long-looked-for chamber-concerts, I
feel sure that in all of your generous giving of a God-given
genius, you never gave more real pleasure than you gave those
school-girls and teachers hungry for a taste of life outside the
school, and for good music, the best of all company. You were then
to them what you only hoped to be after years of hard work,--great
men in your profession,--and they could not have dressed with more
care or been more excited if they had been going to listen with
royalty to the greatest of the old masters.

Among the choicest of my pictures of Farmington days is that of the
girls in white and dainty pinks and greens and blues, with flowers
to wear and flowers to throw to you, almost dancing down that
beautiful street on a summer day to "the concert," and in the
foreground a quaint dark figure whom all the girls remember on
festive occasions as bearing the burden of her choice with a New
England sense of propriety at war with her keen sympathy with all
that is natural in young people, and with the pride in her
good-looking family which made her blind to their youthful follies.
That was long ago when we were giddy girls, but the verdict of our
heads and hearts was a true one.

Sure that your memories, dear Dr. Mason, must be bright in the
sunlight of so many warm friendships, I am listening to the music
of long ago.

March 31, 1901.

LOUIS MOREAU GOTTSCHALK

I knew Gottschalk well, and was fascinated by his playing, which was full of brilliancy and bravura. His strong, rhythmic accent, his vigor and dash, were exciting and always aroused enthusiasm. He was the perfection of his school, and his effects had the sparkle and effervescence of champagne. He was as far as possible from being an interpreter of chamber or classical music, but, notwithstanding this, some of the best musicians of the strict style were frequently to be seen among his audience, among others Carl Bergmann, who told me that he always heard Gottschalk with intense enjoyment. He first made his mark through his arrangement of Creole melodies. They were well defined rhythmically, and he played them with absolute rhythmic accuracy. This clear definition in his interpretation contributed more than anything else to the fascination which he always exerted over his audience. He did not care for the German school, and on one occasion, after hearing me play Schumann at one of the Mason-Thomas matinees, he said: "Mason, I do not understand why you spend so much of your time over music like that; it is stiff and labored, lacks melody, spontaneity, and naivete. It will eventually vitiate your musical taste and bring you into an abnormal state."

Although an enthusiastic admirer of Beethoven symphonies and other orchestral works, he did not care for the pianoforte sonatas, which he said were not written in accordance with the nature of the instrument. It has been said that he could play all of the sonatas by heart; but I am quite sure that Mr. Richard Hoffman, who was his intimate friend, will sustain me in the assertion that such was not the fact.

I have known Mr. Hoffman for more than fifty years, having met him for the first time in the year 1847 or thereabout. His playing is still characterized by precision, accuracy, and clearness in phrasing, with an excellent technic, combined with repose. I have many times enjoyed his artistic interpretations, and I heard him with great pleasure not a long while ago, on the occasion of his fiftieth anniversary as a teacher in this country.

Returning to Gottschalk, a funny thing happened one day. At the time of which I write, forty-five years ago, William Hall & Sons' music-store was in Broadway, corner of Park Place, and was a place of rendezvous for musicians. Going there one day, I met Gottschalk, who, holding up the proof-sheet of a title-page which he had just received from the printer, said: "Read that!" What I read was, "The Latest Hops," in big block letters after the fashion of an outside music title-page. "What does this mean?" I asked. "Well," he replied, "it ought to be 'The Last Hope,' but the printer, either by way of joke or from stupidity, has expressed it in this way. There is to be a new edition of my 'Last Hope,' and I am revising it for that purpose."

I have in my autograph-book a letter of his, undated, but written in the late fifties:

MY DEAR M.: If you have nothing to do, come and spend the evening
with me on Sunday next. No formality. Smoking required, impropriety
allowed, and complete liberty, with as little music as possible.
I was going to mention that we will have a glass of wine and
chicken salad.

Your friend,
GOTTSCHALK.
149 East Ninth Street.

PROPAGANDA FOR SCHUMANN'S MUSIC

Gottschalk's remark about my liking for Schumann's music was at that time echoed by others, for when I returned from Germany and found Schumann virtually unknown here, I made it my mission to introduce his music into this country--a labor of love in which I was afterward greatly aided by the quartet concerts and by my teaching. Shortly after my return from Germany I went to Breusing's, then one of the principal music-stores in the city,--the Schirmers are his successors,--and asking for certain compositions by Schumann, I was informed that they had his music in stock, but as there was no demand for it, it was packed away in a bundle and kept in the basement. Pretty soon, however, my pupils began calling for Schumann's pieces, and Schumann moved up from the cellar to the main floor. His music was expensive, because it was published in sets, and if a pupil wanted to buy one of the "Novellettes" or "Kinderscenen," it was necessary to purchase the whole collection. After a while, however, some of the music-dealers began to publish a number of the pieces separately. This had the effect in some measure of opening up the sale of his music to pupils and amateurs.

SIGISMOND THALBERG

Thalberg's playing was characterized by grace, elegance, and perfection of finish in detail. His style was suave, courteous, and aristocratic. Being a pupil of Hummel, who had in turn taken lessons of Mozart for two years, it was quite within the line of descent that he should have acquired the extremely smooth legato touch of those masters. As distinguished from any pianist-composer up to his time, his specialty was the surrounding of a melody with arabesques and ornamental passages of scales and arpeggios played with rapidity, clearness, and brilliancy. Parish Alvars, the harpist, had originated this device, and Thalberg adapted it to the pianoforte, for which instrument it was better suited and more effective than on the harp.

The important influence of the upper-arm muscles in the production of powerful and resonant tones seems to have been but little known in those days. Leopold de Meyer's constant use of these, as noted elsewhere, was apparently unconscious and instinctive.

Thalberg's octave-playing was not altogether elastic and free from rigidity, for in long-continued and rapid octave passages a close observer would have noticed a contraction of his facial muscles and a compression of the lips, which would have been avoided under the conditions of properly devitalized upper-arm muscles and loose wrists.

Shortly after his arrival in our country he went by invitation to my brother's house in West Orange, New Jersey, on a visit of some weeks. This afforded an opportunity which was not neglected, and as a result I became well acquainted with him and his method of practice. In this way he was virtually one of my best teachers, although no regular lessons were received from him. Moreover, in several of his concerts I played with him his duo for two pianofortes on themes from "Norma," and these were occasions of great artistic profit. One learned much, also, from hearing him practise. His daily exercises included scale and arpeggio passages played at various rates of speed and with different degrees of dynamic force. These were always put into rhythmic form, and the measures, sometimes in triple and sometimes in quadruple time in many varieties, were invariably indicated by means of accentuation. Dynamic effects, such as crescendos and diminuendos, also received due attention. In short, as it seems to me, he made it a point--as well in the cultivation and development of physical technic as in his public performances--to play _musically_ at all times.

Thalberg's technic seemed to be confined mainly to the finger, hand, wrist, and lower-arm muscles, but these he used in such a deft manner as to draw from his instrument the loveliest tones. He was altogether opposed to the high-raised finger of some of the modern schools, and in his work entitled "L'Art du Chant applique au Piano" he cautions students against this habit. The same advice had been previously given by Carl Czerny in his "Letters on the Art of Playing the Pianoforte," namely: "Do not strike the keys from too great a height, as in this case a thud will accompany the tone."

Thalberg adds: "Gewoehnlich arbeitet man zu viel mit den Fingern und zu wenig mit dem Geiste" ("Generally one works too much with the fingers and too little with the intelligence").

This is reasonable advice, for a touch which starts off simply for strength and mechanical development, separate from other traits, becomes eventually so obstinately fixed and determined that its influence will dominate and stand constantly in the way of poetic and musical development. In this connection it is well to remember and apply the proverb: "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."

He was very fond of his grand pianofortes, both of which were made by Erard of Paris. One of these instruments was drawn upon a much larger scale than had previously been made by this or, so far as I know, by any other manufacturer. The tone was powerful and of a lovely musical character. Thalberg's idea was that the better the instrument the greater the advantage afforded the virtuoso, not only for public playing, but as well for the purpose of practice and musical development I remember his telling me that a fine instrument even suggested ideas to the composer and furthered his work. An experience of many years has proved to me the soundness of his theory and the importance of its practical application.