Scan 15
Musical Courier 1905-08-23: Vol 51 Iss 1326, 1905
56 lines. Read by computer on 23 September 2026. Printed page 16. See the scan on archive.org.
1one directly in the eyes; then, after a few words to the host and hostess about the pleasant view from their residence, he seated himself, and everyone followed his example. The grand duke then directed the conversation, and no one spoke until spoken to by him. He addressed Professor Virchow and Dr. Petersen, asking them about the purpose of their visit, and being apparently greatly interested in their researches. When, in due course of time, he came to me, he asked me about music in the United States, and if the Wagner cult was progressing. He seemed quite surprised and pleased when I told him how rapid the progress had been, how well known the German composers were in America, and how much Liszt was admired. Shortly after he arose, and, bowing in a most cordial manner, took his departure. I could not help but think how orderly had been the conversation, how confusion and clatter had been avoided, how thoroughly the grand duke knew the manners of a gentleman, and fulfilled, evidently, what was a part of his duties as the head of the government of the Grand Duchy of Saxony-Weimar. It was an exhibition of good manners and gentility which I was glad to witness and bear testimony to, and though the cynic may say, "Ah well! he is paid for being a gentleman; he ought to have good manners," &c., yet I might reply that grand dukes and other people of "quality" in some other countries are frequently ignorant boors, possessed neither of intelligence to carry on a conversation, nor manners to polish it with; while in our own country such an homage to science and art as a "visit of respect" to professors by the head of any government, municipal, State or National, is unknown, perhaps undreamed of.
3About this time Liszt was preparing to go to Bayreuth, to attend the first production of the music-drama "Der Ring des Nibelungen," and one morning he said: "I suppose, Herr Pradt, you will be there?"
5I answered, with no little chagrin and disappointment: "I am very sorry, for I had expected to attend, but my means, upon which I depended, have been unfortunately dissipated by my friend in America, to whom I had entrusted them, and therefore I shall be unable to go."
7"Umph! that is too bad," he exclaimed. "You should not miss this event, and, indeed," he continued, "you made your long journey hither largely to witness it, did you not?"
9"Yes," I replied, "that was one of the chief incentives to my voyage."
11"It is a pity," he concluded, and, munching his large jaws, he seemed about to say more, but thought better of it and chewed on the end of a long cheroot, which appeared to be his favorite cigar.
13Some weeks after this, while I was busy writing in my little room, and thinking over "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" that prevented me from going to Bayreuth, where the first cyclus of Wagner's great work was soon to be produced in the presence of the Emperor of Germany and other great potentates (and was wondering where I could find the "golden apple" which I might throw in front of the fleet footed Fortuna, and thus win the race and herself as the stake), a letter, postmarked "Berlin," was handed to me. The writing was unfamiliar, and the envelope was large and heavy. Therefore while my fingers were busy opening it curiosity and I sat on a veritable "ragged edge" of expectancy, dangling our feet, as it were, over the chasm of the "unknown." It proved to be a letter from the "Wagner Verein" at Berlin, enclosing a "patron's schein" (a patron's card) for the second cyclus of the "music-drama at Bayreuth!"
15I was amazed, and could hardly think that this good fortune was real, so I read and re-read the letter, which was signed by Wm. Tappert, the famous Berlin critic, and hastily answered it, expressing my great joy, surprise and thanks. Not until lately have I thought that the great hearted Liszt had instigated this valued gift, for the "patron's schein's" then cost 200 thalers each; but it seems plain to me now that it was the kind master's friendly good will that impelled Tappert's hand when he wrote this letter and moved the "verein" to action in my behalf.
17Notwithstanding this unexpected courtesy from the Wagner Verein, as I journeyed to the musical Mecca I determined to keep apart from the "Schwärmer" (unconditional enthusiasts) and witness the performance as an unbiased outsider, believing that thus I could judge more justly of the work. Perhaps, too, the accounts I had read of the pomp and brilliancy which the presence of the imperial court of Germany had given to the first cyclus made me feel more timid; and then Wagner's contemptuous treatment of America in his "Centennial March" had awakened a spirit of indignation, so that I felt no desire to push myself forward at the court of the "master" at the "Villa Wahnfried."
19I found no other American in attendance at Bayreuth, and but a few English people, the audience being composed almost entirely of Germans from all parts of the empire and Austria. Among the famous musicians present at these first productions of the music-drama was Wilhelmj, the violinist, who played first violin in the orchestra. He was quite indignant at the hidden cavern for the players, exclaiming: "Wagner treats the musicians like pigs. There we sit, out of sight and, sometimes, out of hearing of the performance on the stage. One feels like a slave chained in a galley. It is impossible to keep up an interest. It is not so bad for us, for the violins sit up close to the director, and once in a while we catch a glimpse of the singers when they come down in front, but the poor devils who play the trombones, cornets and horns have to sit away down under the stage, where they can barely see the director. It is frightful! It is inhuman!"
21At the table next where we were—for this conversation was at the principal restaurant while we were at breakfast—a young man was seated, whose fine features, dark hair and eyes had attracted my attention, and as he arose to go, I asked my companion who he was.
23"Why, don't you know?" exclaimed Wilhelmj. "That is Rubinstein."
25"Any relation to the great pianist, Anton Rubinstein?" I asked.
27"No; but he is a fine pianist and an excellent musician, and," he went on, "he is a living monument of Wagner's ingratitude."
29"How is that?" I asked, with increased interest.
31"Well," replied Wilhelmj, "he has been here over a year, working for Wagner like a slave, helping him get this production ready, copying, writing letters for him, and doing anything asked, without pay. And, now that the meister has no further use for him, he discharges him without as much as a thank you." (This with considerable bitterness.)
33"That seems rather hard," I assented, "and accounts for the sad expression on the young man's face. But perhaps the master thought that the privilege of doing the work was sufficient reward," I added.
35"Umph!" he grunted. "Wagner's success has turned his head, and he never had a heart to be turned. Ingratitude is unpardonable!" Then continuing, he said:
37"I'm so sick of this fawning and hypocritical adulation which now surrounds Wagner, that I will not stay for the third cyclus. I go to Berlin after this cyclus is completed, tomorrow."
39Changing the subject, I asked him how he liked London, where he had been playing with much success.
41Before leaving Weimar I had received from Consul General Kreismann the appointment as vice consul ad interim at Berlin, and so, after the production of the "Götterdämmerung," I went to see Liszt to say good-bye. He was living with Wagner at the "Villa Wahnfried," and greeted me most cordially, as usual. After a little talk about the performance, during which I praised the magnificent instrumentation and the beautiful effects of the sunken orchestra, I said in a deprecating tone of voice, and with rather an ashamed manner, I fear: "I am to be vice consul at Berlin and go into business for a while."
43My manner must have spoken most eloquently the feeling of humiliation I experienced in saying this, for Liszt grasped my hand warmly, and in a sympathetic tone of voice and reassuring manner said: "An honest occupation cannot disgrace an honest man. The man makes the office, not the office the man." Then, thanking him for his great kindness to me, I took my leave and was soon on my way to Berlin, busy with the glorious memories which remained to me as a heritage from the many grand moments spent with one of the greatest men of all times—Franz Liszt, pianist, composer and man incomparable, dei gratia.
45FOREIGN report has it that Mengelberg, the leader of the Amsterdam Orchestra (Concertgebouw), has been engaged to direct one of the New York Philharmonic concerts this season for a fee of $1,250. Richard Strauss said of Mengelberg and his orchestra that they were the ideal interpreters of the Strauss works for orchestra. Piecing together all the rumors from unofficial sources, it looks as though the list of New York Philharmonic conductors will have an aspect something like this: Safonoff (Moscow), Weingartner (Berlin), Steinbach (Cologne), Fiedler (Hamburg), Mengelberg (Amsterdam), Kunwald (New Opera, Berlin) and Frischen (Hanover).
47MICHAEL MONAGHAN, editor of that journalistic breeze, the Papyrus, has some sensible things to say about daily newspaper music critics, and he says them in this fashion:
49I wonder if any music critic of authority and reputation would dare write in a manner to make him understood. This is not a joke. Let us consider the matter. In his brilliant essay on Rossini and Meyerbeer, Heine pays his respects to the professional critics of the time in terms that read like a strict indictment of their present day successors. He describes their "critiques, composed in a kind of argot (dialect), larded with technical expressions not familiar to the generally cultivated world, but only to practical artists, yet which give to their rubbish an air that imposes on the multitude."
51The manners of the music critics have not improved since these lines were written—they continue to write in a language that very few understand, putting always the "shop" before sense and sentiment. Now, as then, they are far more concerned to exhibit their verbal gymnastics than to tell us what we really want to hear—in other words, to give us a sane, intelligible criticism. They are all stylists in their own conceit, but somehow with all their pretensions and straining for effect, they never achieve literature, though they occasionally publish books. We should indeed believe that nothing in the way of pure literature could be written about music or musicians were it not for the achievement of some genuine writers, and conspicuous among them Heine himself. The press of New York numbers a half dozen music critics who could smother Heine with the resources of their technical vocabulary, and yet their work dies with each day's sun. As it has been said of musicians that they form a third sex, so it may be held of music critics that they are a class sui generis, not amenable to literary laws. They feel themselves superior to the public, and for this reason the public will have none of them.
53Heine did better than merely to expose the pretentious vanity of the critics of his day—he showed how a true literary man could do their office, as in the essay above mentioned, or in his famous description of Paganini's playing, which is worth all the tons of music criticism that have been emitted since David played on his harp to the delight of the daughters of Jerusalem.
55Spoken from the depths of our own soul, Editor Monaghan. Write us some more along the same lines.
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