CURIOSITIES IN MUSICAL LITERATURE.
Anything which is new and unprecedented in music is seldom at once properly appreciated by the majority of musicians however beautiful it may be. Hence the diversity of opinion concerning certain important musical compositions which we meet with in our literature.
The 'Letters on Musical Taste' written by J. B. Schaul ('Briefe über den Geschmack in der Musik. Carlsruhe, 1809,') contain many sensible observations which are blemished by unreasonable attacks on Mozart, because the then new composer did not in his operas restrict himself to the same treatment of the orchestra to which previous masters had accustomed the ear. Schaul was a great admirer of Boccherini. "What a difference between a Mozart and a Boccherini!" he exclaims. "The former leads us among rugged rocks in a thorny forest but sparingly strewn with flowers; whereas the latter conducts us into a smiling landscape with flowery meadows, clear and murmuring brooks, and shady groves, where our spirit abandons itself with delight to a sweet melancholy, which affords it an agreeable recreation even after it has left these pleasant regions."
There are several other remarks of this kind in the book, which aroused the ire of Carl Maria von Weber, and induced him to take up his pen in defence of Mozart,[37] which he probably would have thought unnecessary, if the book were not otherwise rather clever.
When, in the year 1790, Mozart's 'Don Giovanni' was performed in Berlin for the first time, the new opera found favour with the public, but by no means with the critics. The following extract is translated from the 'Chronik von Berlin,' Vol. IX., p. 133:—"It is not by overcharging the orchestra, but by expressing the emotions and passions of the heart, that the composer achieves anything great, and transmits his name to posterity. Grétry, Monsigny, and Philidor are, and ever will be, examples of this truth. Mozart, in his 'Don Giovanni,' aimed at producing something extraordinary, thus much is certain, and something extraordinary surely he has produced; nothing however, which could not be imitated, or which is great. Not the heart, but whim, eccentricity, and pride are the sources from which 'Don Giovanni' has emanated.... This opera, nevertheless, proved remunerative to the manager; and gallery, boxes and pit will also in future not be empty; for a ghost in armour and furies spitting fire are a powerful magnet."[38]
The chord with the augmented octave, which occurs several times in Mozart's overture to 'Don Giovanni':—
[[Listen]]
has caused more than one honest theorist to shake his head. No doubt, if seen in notation disconnected from the preceding and following bars, it looks deterrent enough; but ought it thus to be judged? Still, Schilling in his Musical Dictionary,[39] has thought it necessary to excuse Mozart for having used this chord. In the article headed "Accord" he remarks: "Türk says we possess no chord with an augmented octave. Until Mozart, this interval was only used as a Suspension. Mozart, however, makes it stable enough by filling with it a whole bar of 4/4 time. The master always knows why he acts in a certain particular way and not otherwise; and as in 'Don Giovanni' the extraordinary is predominant, this long-sustained augmented interval—this premeditated poignard-stab—may stand there as a warning to our libertines. We, for our part, know nothing more frightful than this sustained chord, and the sudden energy with which it is intended to be executed."
If Mozart could provoke adverse criticism, it is not surprising that Beethoven did, considering his great originality. Dr. Crotch therefore, should not be thought a worse critic than many others when he says (in his 'Lectures,' London, 1831, p. 146) of Beethoven: "That he has ever disregarded the rules of composition is to be regretted, as there does not seem to have been the least good obtained by it in any one instance."
Rochlitz, in criticising Beethoven's last violin quartets, which he evidently did not like, cautiously observes: "When Beethoven had published his first three Trios for pianoforte, violin and violoncello—and soon afterwards, his first Symphony in C major—a certain reviewer thought it right and good to speak of the Trios almost jokingly, treating them rather as confused explosions of the bold wantonness of a young man of talent; and the symphony he earnestly and warningly declared to be an odd imitation of the style of Haydn, amounting almost to caricature. Yet this critic was really an able musician of much experience, and standing firm as a rock in his time and its theory. He had also produced many works which are justly appreciated, and he liked Beethoven in a degree. Had the man given his name, or did we not owe reticence to the dead, every reader would concede this, and even more, if we named him. Again, when Beethoven had finished his second Symphony in D major, and Prince Lichnowsky brought the manuscript to Leipzig, Spazier, after the performance of the symphony, gave his opinion about it in his new journal, entitled 'Zeitung für die elegante Welt.' He called it a coarse monster—a pierced dragon writhing indomitably, which will not die, and which in bleeding to death (Finale) flourishes its uplifted tail furiously in all directions in vain. Now, Spazier was a clever fellow, a many-sided and versatile man, and by no means inexperienced. As musician, he was acquainted with every composition which in his time was considered as superior. Having been a pupil and faithful assistant of Reichardt, he enjoyed as a critic a by no means small reputation, and was even feared. Since then, twenty-five years have elapsed; and what is now thought of these works by the whole world?"[40]
A collection of the musical reviews emanating from critics of reputation, which condemn our master-works, might be amusing, but would probably be more ridiculous than instructive. England especially could contribute a large share of such curiosities in musical literature. No doubt some of the judges were clever enough; they cannot exactly be said to have been unable to understand what they criticised; but they had compiled a certain code of rules for their own guidance in judging, gathered from the works of some favourite composer, which rules they considered as the only right ones. Consequently they denounced whatever they found in disagreement with their adopted code.
J. N. Forkel, the learned and justly-esteemed author of a 'History of Music,' and of several other useful works, possessed for J. S. Bach so intense an admiration, that he had at last no ear for any composer who differed from his idol. Hence his unwarrantable attacks on Gluck in his 'Musikalisch-Kritische Bibliothek,' Gotha, 1778.
We possess in the German language a cleverly written book entitled 'Ueber Reinheit der Tonkunst' (On the Purity of Music), the first edition of which appeared in the year 1825. The author of this book, A. C. J. Thibaut, a distinguished Professor of Law in Heidelberg, had studied the old Italian and Dutch Church composers of the time of Palestrina, whose works he delighted in having performed at regular meetings of a number of well-trained choristers in his house. Thibaut's enthusiasm for the old writers of vocal music without instrumental accompaniment was so unbounded that the great instrumental compositions by Beethoven and others had but little attraction for him. He ridicules with much sarcasm Weber's overture to 'Oberon.' Celebrated pianists evidently found but little favour with him. Still, Thibaut has had a beneficial influence on musicians, and his strange and spirited book deserves a prominent place among our curiosities in musical literature.
Distinguished composers sometimes prove but unreliable judges of the merits of other composers, especially if the latter are their contemporaries, and perhaps their rivals. We know from the biographies of the composers how greatly Weber disliked Rossini; how lightly Spohr appreciated Weber's 'Der Freischütz' when all the world was in ecstasy about the opera; how Spohr found fault with Beethoven's symphonies. And we know what Beethoven, in an unguarded moment, said of these composers. We remember Mozart's unfavourable opinions concerning Clementi, Abbé Vogler and some other musical celebrities of his time; likewise J. S. Bach's joking remarks to his son Friedemann about their going to Dresden to listen to the "pretty little songs" of Hasse; and Handel's hard words about Gluck: "He knows no more of counterpoint than my cook!"—not to record other such gossip which is rather scandalous. Being reminded of these musical discords, it is all the more agreeable to remember the sincerity with which many of our great musicians have acknowledged the merits of their compeers. Haydn's esteem for Mozart was only equalled by Mozart's esteem for Haydn. Beethoven's high appreciation of Cherubini is notorious. Likewise, Schubert's admiration of Beethoven. But it is unnecessary here to point out instances of the kind.
Musical amateurs often evince a preference for a certain composer merely because they have accidentally become more familiar with his works than with those of other composers. No wonder that in their literary productions referring to music they should have largely contributed to the curiosities. In noticing here M. Victor Schœlcher's 'Life of Handel,' it is with sincere esteem for his enthusiasm and perseverance, which enabled him to collect interesting information respecting the great composer. However, in order to write the 'Life of Handel' it is not sufficient to be an enthusiastic admirer of his works. One must be well acquainted with the musicians contemporary with the great composer, and with the stage of progress of the art at the time when the little boy Handel took his initiatory lessons. One must also have practical experience in musical composition. The following opinion expressed in the work alluded to may serve as an example of a literary curiosity from a musical amateur:—"When a great artist like Handel is accused of theft, the proofs should be exhibited openly.... These pretended thefts are nothing but accidental resemblances, fugitive, and quite involuntary.... If Dr. Crotch is to be believed, Handel was never anything but a plagiarist, who passed his life in seeking ideas out of every corner!" and so on. Now, it is a well-known fact that Handel did in several instances make use of the compositions of others. But, no discerning biographer would for this reason regard him as a thief. The really musical inquirer would find it interesting to examine carefully how the great composer has treated and ennobled ideas emanating from others.
An autobiography of a celebrated musician may be instructive, if the author possesses the moral courage to record candidly what he has thought and felt. He must tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. How seldom is this the case! Be it from a praiseworthy consideration for others, or perhaps from personal vanity, statements of committed mistakes, unsuccessful struggles, and such like facts, are often omitted or gilded over. The letters of celebrated musicians, published after their death by their friends, are generally so much polished, and sentences thought to be injurious to the reputation of the great artist so carefully expunged, that we obtain only occasionally a glimpse at the real life of the man. Perhaps the most amiable, but also the weakest publications of this kind are generally the biographical notices which have been edited by the widow of a celebrated musician. To note one instance: 'Spohr's Autobiography' is interesting, although it is somewhat tinged with self-complacency. After Spohr's death his widow published the Autobiography, supplementing it with laudatory remarks such as the following:—
"During the last few years of his life he often expressed his conviction that there must certainly be music in Heaven, although it might be very different from our own music. When his wife replied with all her heart: 'Yes, perhaps different; but more beautiful than yours it cannot be!'—Then, a smile of happy contentment and blissful hope spread over his face."[41]
The musician acquainted with the frequent repetitions in Spohr's works of certain modulations and mannerisms in favour with the composer, may well be excused if he shudders at the thought that he should have to listen to them eternally.
Let us now direct our attention for a moment to books relating to musical controversy. The reader is probably aware of the dispute occasioned by Gluck and Piccini, in France, towards the end of the last century, and of the large number of pamphlets which it caused to be published, including some which were written by the most distinguished thinkers of the time. The dispute concerning the genuineness of Mozart's Requiem likewise supplies some curious specimens of musical literature. The paper-war commenced with an article by Gottfried Weber, published in the musical journal 'Cæcilia,' in the year 1825. The gauntlet thrown down was taken up, in the same year, by the Abbé Stadler. After this beginning of the controversy, other champions, pro and contra, made their appearance; and the quarrel, conducted not entirely without personal insult, soon grew to be as formidable as the fray between the Montagues and the Capulets,—when, fortunately for the sake of concord, Mozart's MS. score of the Requiem was discovered, and revealed which portions of the work had been committed to paper by himself, and which were written after his death by his instructed disciple, Süssmayr.
Another controversy of a peculiar kind, in which many musicians took part, and upon which several dissertations were published, originated in a violent attack by Giovanni Spataro upon Franchino Gafori, in the beginning of the sixteenth century. An account of this dispute, which related to some theoretical questions, is given in Hawkins's 'History of Music,' London, 1776, Vol. II., p. 335. As regards the style of language of the combatants, it reminds us more of fists and clubs than of needle-guns; but this is only what might be expected.
Again, as regards the learned inquiries respecting the origin and use of music, some curious treatises may be noticed.
The opinion that man learnt the art of music from the songs of birds is very old, and was already held by the Roman poet Lucretius, nearly a century before our Christian era. Guido Casoni, in his 'Della Magia d'Amore,' Venice, 1596, finds the origin of music in Love. J. C. Ammon, a German clergyman, wrote in the year 1746, an essay entitled 'Gründlicher Beweis dass im ewigen Leben wirklich eine vortreffliche Musik sei' ('A Clear Proof that there is in Eternal Life really excellent Music'). Also Mattheson, of whose literary productions more than one might be classed with the curiosities, wrote circumstantially about the music in Heaven. A book of his on the subject, published in the year 1747, bears the title—'Behauptung der himmlischen Musik aus den Gründen der Vernunft, Kirchen-Lehre, und Heiligen Schrift' ('An Assertion that there is Music in Heaven, proved from conclusions of reason, from the teaching of the Church, and from Holy Scripture'). Latrobe, in his treatise entitled 'The Music of the Church,' London, 1831, settles this question by citing passages from the Revelation; for instance, the nature of the instrumental accompaniments to the vocal music in Heaven, is in his opinion clearly revealed by the passage "Harpers harping upon their harps." (Rev. XIV., 2).
The erroneous conjecture, that the art of music suggested itself originally to man, from his hearing the various sounds in nature, instead of being innate in him, has been entertained by several writers. Suffice it to notice two books on this hypothesis, written in the present century: 'The Music of Nature; or an attempt to prove that what is passionate and pleasing in the art of singing, speaking, and performing upon musical instruments, is derived from the sounds of the Animated World,' by William Gardiner; London, 1832. 'La Harpe d'Eole et la musique cosmique; études sur les rapports des phénomènes sonores de la nature avec la science et l'art;' par J. G. Kastner; Paris, 1856.—Kastner is the author of several musical treatises which might be enumerated with the literary curiosities.
Feyoo y Montenegro, a Spanish ecclesiastic, about the middle of the eighteenth century, wrote a dissertation, the title of which, translated into English, is: 'The Delights of Music accompanied by Virtue are upon Earth the foretaste of Heaven.' By way of contrast to this may be noticed Francesco Bocchi's 'Discorso sopra la Musica,' Florence, 1580, in which the learned author maintains that music is injurious to morals and good manners. Vicesimus Knox, in his 'Essays moral and literary,' London, 1778, recommends the acquirement of musical accomplishments as a means of protecting oneself in old age from contempt and neglect.
The oddities of the following English works are sufficiently indicated by their titles:—'The Schoole of Abuse conteining a pleasaunt Inuective against Poetes, Pipers, Plaiers, Jesters, and such like Caterpillers of a Commonwelth,' by Stephen Gosson; London, 1579. 'Histrio-mastic; The Player's Scovrge, or Actors' Tragedie,' by William Prynne; London, 1633. For the publication of this work, which contains a satire against vocal music, the author was condemned by King Charles I. to have his ears cut off, and to stand in the pillory.
Curious specimens of English treatises on sacred music are:—'A Treatise concerning the lawfulness of Instrumental Musick in Holy Offices,' by Henry Dodwell. Second edition; London, 1700. 'The Temple Musick; or an Essay concerning the Method of Singing the Psalms of David, in the Temple, before the Babylonish Captivity,' by Arthur Bedford; London, 1706. 'The Great Abuse of Musick,' by Arthur Bedford, London, 1711.
A German philosopher, in the beginning of the present century, wrote 'On our Inclination to sing when we are in a cheerful Mood.' Others have shown that cheerful music makes some persons feel sad. Shakespeare knew this, to conclude from Jessica's words (The Merchant of Venice, Act V., Scene I.): 'I am never merry when I hear sweet music.'
As regards curious illustrations of musical instruments, the following works are especially deserving of notice:—
'Musica getutscht und ausgezogen,' Basel, 1511, by Sebastian Virdung.—'Musica instrumentalis,' Wittenburg, 1529, by Martin Agricola.—'Musurgia seu Praxis Musicæ,' Strassburg, 1536, by Ottomarus Luscinius.—The last-named work is written in Latin; the other two are in German. All these contain illustrations of the instruments described by the authors. Sebastian Virdung's book is written in dialogue. Virdung and Luscinius (whose German name was Nachtigall) were priests. Martin Agricola was a professional musician, and conductor of a choir and orchestra at Magdeburg. His book is written in wretched doggerel rhymes, but the wood-engravings are very exact, and his explanations are lucid. The circumstances of Martin Agricola having been practically experienced in the art, and having lived, so to say, in the midst of the instruments on which he treats, render his observations especially reliable.
The same may be said of Michael Prætorius, a distinguished Kapellmeister at Brunswick, who is the author of 'De Organographia,' Wolfenbüttel, 1619. This valuable treatise forms the second volume of a work entitled, 'Syntagma Musicum,' etc. The first volume treats on the history of music, chiefly sacred; it is written in Latin, and was published in 1615. The third volume, which like the second is written in German, contains an account of the different vocal compositions in use at the time when the work was written. The wood-engravings of 120 instruments belonging to Volume II. were published with the separate title: 'Theatrum Instrumentorum seu Sciagraphia,' Wolfenbüttel, 1620. The proper German name of Prætorius is Schulz. It was not unusual with the old German authors to Latinize their names on the title-page of their books.
The works just noticed are now so scarce that the musician rarely finds an opportunity to consult them. Hardly more accessible is the 'Harmonie universelle,' Paris, 1636, by F. Marin Mersenne,—a work which is valued especially on account of its comprehensiveness. The second volume contains descriptions with illustrations of the musical instruments in use about the year 1600. Mersenne was a monk,—as was also Athanasius Kircher, whose 'Musurgia universalis' appeared in Rome in the year 1650. Kircher's work is less scarce than that of Mersenne, but also less important. The illustrations in 'Musurgia universalis' are however, interesting, and it is principally on account of them that the work is still appreciated by musical historians. The 'Musurgia universalis' is written in Latin. Athanasius Kircher occupied himself also in making acoustic experiments, and he wrote a treatise on the subject, illustrated by engravings. He also constructed various acoustic instruments, which after his death, were deposited with other curiosities left by him, in a Museum at Rome. Dr. Burney, who saw them in Rome in the year 1770, remarks in his Journal: "They are now almost all out of order; but their construction is really curious, and manifests an ingenuity as well as zeal of this learned father in his musical inquiries and experiments."
Filippo Bonanni, who like Athanasius Kircher was a Jesuit Father, published at Rome in the year 1722, a work entitled 'Gabinetto armonico pieno d'istromenti sonori,' which contains 138 copper-plate engravings of musical instruments, most of them with representations of the performers. It is written in Italian. A second edition, in Italian and French, appeared in 1776. Bonanni's work is an amusing picture-book rather than a scientific treatise. The illustrations are inexact, and the explanations are meagre and unsatisfactory. The author had evidently never seen most of the instruments which he describes, and many of the illustrations appear to have been drawn from his description and not from actual specimens.
It is however, from Bonanni and kindred writers that Laborde has compiled his 'Essai sur la Musique,' Paris, 1780. It would be more easy than pleasant to cite mis-statements copied from old authors by Laborde which have been recapitulated almost verbally by subsequent writers down to Fétis. In consulting the 'Essai sur la Musique' with its illustrations, many of which are fanciful, it must be borne in mind that Laborde was a musical dilettante more distinguished for his enthusiasm for the art, than for any particular qualification as an author on the subject in question.
Sir John Hawkins, likewise a musical dilettante and ardent lover of the art, by persevering diligence succeeded in accumulating a large mass of material for the compilation of a history of music, published in 1776, which contains many interesting accounts of scarce works on music, with extracts from them; but he was evidently not much of a musician, and the information he offers is arranged without sufficient discernment or order.
Hawkins was probably unacquainted with the original German works from which he gives extracts in translation. At any rate, he has made some funny mistakes. For instance, in noticing a publication of a series of letters on music by Steffani, he says (Vol. IV., p. 303): "Mattheson, in his 'Orchestra', mentions two persons, namely John Ballhorn and ( ) Weigweiser, as the authors of observations on these letters by Steffani; but, according to Mattheson, neither of them was either able to read the original, or in the translation to distinguish between the sense of the author as delivered in the text, or the opinions of the translator contained in the notes."
Now, the fact is that neither John Ballhorn nor Wegweiser—or Weigweiser as Hawkins spells the word,—were distinguished men deserving a place in a 'General History of Music.' "Johann Ballhorn" merely signifies "a Blunderer," just as "Jack of all Trades" signifies a person who can turn his hand to anything. Old Mattheson was a quaint and sarcastic writer. He calls the translator of Steffani's treatise from Italian into German a "Johann Ballhorn" on account of the blunders in the translation; and another writer, who commented upon the subject, and who put himself forth as a true Mentor, he nicknames Wegweiser, which simply means "Guide." The student ought, however, to acknowledge the literary scrupulosity of Hawkins evinced by his leaving a small blank space open before "Weigweiser" to enable any reader who may happen to be informed of the christian name of this gentleman, to insert it there. Still, Hawkins may well be excused, considering that even Nagler, in his well-known Lexicon of Artists, written in German, exhibits a somewhat similar "John Ballhorn." He mentions a Mr. "Somebody" among the English engravers, and states that this artist has engraven the Death of General Wolfe painted by West.
A writer on musical history must above all be a musician of practical experience—an accomplished executant on at least one instrument, so that he is enabled to familiarize himself with the compositions of different masters more thoroughly than could otherwise be possible; and a composer in order to form a correct judgment of the compositions of others. The opinion about Handel or Bach of a writer who is but imperfectly practised in counterpoint, and who is incompetent to produce correctly a fugue or other intricate composition constructed according to fixed rules, is not likely to prove of use to the student of musical history. Burney possessed many of the qualities requisite for a musical historian. He was a professional musician systematically trained in the art, and an intelligent inquirer without pedantry or prejudice. Moreover, he had the moral courage to rescind an opinion when he discovered that it was erroneous. For instance, respecting an opinion which he formerly held on German music, he candidly avows ('History of Music' Vol. IV., p. 606), "It was inconsiderately inserted in the first edition of my 'German Tour' before I was able to examine the truth.... So far, therefore from letting a second-hand prejudice warp my judgment, or influence my opinions in writing my General History, I have long been keeping double guard over my pen and my principles."
The most valuable literary productions are generally to be found among the investigations which are confined to a certain branch of the art. The works which pretend to embrace its whole science are often but mere compilations by writers who, like Bottom the weaver, want to act not only Pyramus, but at the same time also Thisbe and the lion.[42]
With the objectionable curiosities in musical literature might also be classed certain compilations which contain acute observations interspersed with silly remarks. In the preface the author states that he considers it an agreeable duty to acknowledge his obligations to other writers; but, as he does not indicate in the course of the book the sources from which he has drawn, most readers remain ignorant of the fact that the acute observations ought properly to have been given in inverted commas.
Equally objectionable are certain productions bearing on the æsthetics of music, in which the author shows with high-flown words that he is himself not quite clear about what he propounds. It certainly seems odd that just such worthless productions are often prefaced with the remark that the subject of the book has never been properly treated before, whereas there are generally much better works on the same subject well known to musicians.
Here also may certain puffing publications be alluded to, which resemble the literary productions of quack doctors. Some are curious, however objectionable they may be. We have guides professing to teach how to become a brilliant player without the trouble of practising an instrument; how to compose fine music with the aid of dice instead of musical knowledge; how to sing in chorus without having a voice; and suchlike tempting propositions.
Nor must the fanciful schemes for reform relating to the theory of music, to musical notation, to the construction of instruments, etc., be left unnoticed. Some of these are very extravagant, while others have proved to be of greater practical utility than was expected. Space can only be afforded here for three curious examples of proposed innovations, two of which shall be selected from English publications of this description.
'An Essay to the Advancement of Musick, by casting away the Perplexity of different Cliffs, and uniting all Sort of Musick,—Lute, Viol, Violin, Organ, Harpsechord, Voice, etc.—in one Universal Character;' by Thomas Salmon, London, 1672.
'A New System of Music, both theoretical and practical, and yet not mathematical; written in a manner entirely new; that's to say, in a Style plane and intelligible; and calculated to render the Art more Charming, the Teaching not only less tedious, but more profitable, and the Learning easier by three Quarters. All which is done by tearing off the Veil that has for so many ages hung before that noble Science;' by John Francis De La Fond, London, 1725.—The author proposes to abolish the clefs entirely, as he finds them only troublesome.
Wilhelm Kühnau published in Berlin, in the year 1810, a book entitled "Die Blinden Tonkünstler," which contains the biographies of seventy blind musicians. The author discards all the foreign words used in German music, and substitutes for them German words of his own coining. For Kapellmeister he proposes 'Tonmeister;' for Clarinette, 'Gellflöte;' for Harmonika, 'Hauchspiel;' and so on. He, however, does not stand alone as such a whimsical innovator. Beethoven, ten years later, coined the word 'Hammer-Klavièr' for Pianoforte, and used it on the title-page of his large sonata in B flat major, Op. 106.
As specimens of Lampoons may be mentioned:—Joel Collier's 'Musical Travels through England,' London, 1774, written in ridicule of Dr. Charles Burney; and L. Rellstab's 'Henriette, oder die schöne Sängerin,' Leipzig, 1826, which caricatures certain admirers of the celebrated songstress and estimable lady, Henriette Sontag, in Berlin. These musical enthusiasts included several noblemen of the highest position, and a foreign ambassador at the Prussian Court, who were described under fictitious names so as to be easily recognised. The scandalous gossip thereby occasioned induced the government to confiscate the obnoxious though witty book, and to condemn Rellstab to be imprisoned three months in the fortress of Spandau. The punishment of the author, of course, greatly increased the popularity of the book. Being forbidden by high authority, it was read everywhere,—even aloud to circles of guests in the coffee-rooms and wine-houses of Berlin,—until curiosity was satisfied.
As regards musical novels, those which may be called curious are mostly so on account of their eccentricities and improbabilities. Some interesting exceptions could, however, be pointed out. The heroes of the novels are not unfrequently drawn from life, inasmuch as they represent certain celebrated musicians.
E. T. A. Hoffmann, the spirited and highly imaginative novelist, has taken, it is generally believed, the eccentric musician Louis Böhner as a model for his famous 'Kapellmeister Kreisler.' After having travelled for several years through Germany, and performed his own compositions in concerts at different courts, Louis Böhner, more estimable as an artist than otherwise, retired to his native village in Thuringia, where he died in great poverty. His concerto in D major for the pianoforte, Op. 8, which was published about ten years before Weber composed 'Der Freischütz,' contains the following passage—
[[Listen]]
in which may be recognised the melody of Agatha's grand Scena. Besides this, there occur in Böhner's concerto some other slight resemblances with phrases in 'Der Freischütz.' It is said that on a certain occasion Böhner played the concerto in the presence of Weber. The resemblances are not very striking, and may be accidental. Their discovery, however, did not fail to cause some contributions to our literary curiosities.
The journals of musicians travelling in distant parts of the world often contain, as might be expected, interesting observations about music, which are not likely to be found in the journals of other travellers. If not particularly instructive, they are at least often amusing to musicians who prefer to read something about their art more novel and refreshing than they are likely to find in their treatises on thorough-bass. A. Anton, a German by birth, who was band-master in the Bengal army, published, after his return to the Fatherland, some unpretending extracts from his journal, under the title 'Von Darmstadt nach Ostindien; Erlebnisse und Abenteuer eines Musikers auf der Reise durch Arabien nach Lahore. Die denkwürdigen Ereignisse der letzten Jahre nach seinem Tagebuch wahrheitsgetreu geschildert.' ('From Darmstadt to the East Indies; Life and Adventures of a Musician during his journey through Arabia to Lahore. The memorable occurrences of the last years truthfully depicted from his journal;' Darmstadt, 1860.)
M. Hauser, an accomplished violinist, has given an account of his travels round the world, in a series of letters published with the title: 'Aus dem Wanderbuche eines österreichischen Virtuosen; Briefe aus Californien, Südamerika, und Australien.' ('From the Journal of Travels of an Austrian Virtuoso; Letters from California, South America, and Australia;' Leipzig, 1859.) Hauser's grand show-piece was evidently a sort of descriptive composition of his own, called 'The little Bird in the Tree,' in which he cleverly imitated the chirping of the tiny feathered songster. Whether he imitated it by bowing above or below the bridge, he does not state. In Tahiti he played it with success to queen Pomare; and at the gold-fields he charmed the diggers with it to such a degree, that they rewarded him with pinches of gold-dust and nuggets fresh from the soil. Having himself become thoroughly tired of 'The little Bird in the Tree,' although it was his own composition, and wishing to treat the people with some really good music, he ventured, at a concert in a town of the Isthmus of Panama, to play Beethoven's famous violin concerto. His audience were at first puzzled, not knowing what to make of the music; soon, however, silence changed into general conversation about the news of the town and suchlike topics. In order to gain a hearing and money, there was no choice for the virtuoso but to resort to 'The little Bird in the Tree.' With this conviction he laid aside the classical music, determining at the same time to enjoy it all the more heartily at home after having made his fortune. His jottings contain interesting statements concerning the cultivation of music in the various countries which he visited.
A journal of a vagabond musician may, perhaps, be thought to possess but little attraction. If, however, the vagabond musician is an intelligent man who has had the advantage of a University education, his observations may be much more interesting than those of a fashionable virtuoso who moves in the highest circles of society, but whose knowledge is almost entirely confined to his profession. Ernst Kratz was such a man. He published his journal in two volumes entitled 'Kunstreise durch Nord-Deutschland' ('Rambles of an Artist through North Germany;' Sonderburg, 1822). This strange journal, which the author brought out at his own expense, is mentioned neither by Fétis nor Forkel. Probably it never became known through the usual channel of the book trade. It will be the last of the productions noticed in the present survey of literary curiosities; but, considering that it is as scarce as it is singular, an account of it more detailed than has been given of the extraordinary publications previously noticed may interest the musical reader.
Ernst Kratz was a Prussian, born during the second half of the last century. His diary commences with an account of his unsuccessful attempts, in the year 1813, to obtain a commission in the Prussian army against the French. He had then just left the University of Halle. Why he should have wished to give up his profession as a lawyer, does not transpire; perhaps his overflowing energy, and his love of adventure, made the quiet and regular life of a peaceable citizen appear to him but a miserable existence. Though of a generous disposition, he was evidently a self-willed and quarrelsome man, not likely to follow submissively the dictates of others, who perhaps might be his superiors in position, but his inferiors in talent and knowledge. Having a fine bass voice, and some skill in playing the pianoforte and the violin, it occurred to him, during a visit to a wealthy brother-in-law residing in a small town in the province of Brandenburg, to organise a concert for the benefit of the wounded soldiers disabled in the war with Napoleon I.
The zeal with which he engaged in the praiseworthy scheme secured him the co-operation of the musical dilettanti among the nobility and gentry of the town and its neighbourhood. The concert proved a decided success, and, to the gratification of all there was a good round sum of money to be handed over to the fund for the wounded soldiers.
The result of his first attempt induced Kratz to give similar concerts in different provincial towns for the same charitable purpose. The preparations caused him endless trouble, as he generally had to practise beforehand with each of the amateur singers, his or her part alone, to enable them to perform with tolerable correctness. The result was sometimes unsatisfactory, not only musically, but also financially, as the unavoidable expenses almost swallowed up the receipts. Meanwhile Kratz received from the Princess Wilhelm of Prussia, the patroness of the Society for the Relief of the Wounded Soldiers, the title of 'Kammersänger,' in acknowledgment of his benevolent exertions. The honour conferred upon him increased his fondness for a rambling life, while it was of little or no use to him in gaining the means of subsistence.
Soon he traversed large districts of Central and Northern Germany, giving concerts, with which he combined declamatory performances. Experience taught him to restrict his visits almost entirely to small towns and watering-places, where his expenses were small, and where he had no rivalry to fear. During these wanderings he occasionally met with a clergyman, a doctor, or a lawyer, with whom he had studied in Halle; and the hospitable manner in which most of his former acquaintances received him, suggests that they must have had pleasant recollections of his companionship.
He seldom omits to record in his journal the number of visitors to his concert; its proceeds and expenses; with other little business details. These memoranda he intersperses with various observations, of which the following is a specimen:—
"I may take this opportunity to confute the erroneous opinion, entertained by many, that a clever music-director can hear every false tone which occurs in the orchestra. This may be possible if there is only one instrument for each part, but not otherwise; and also not when the orchestra is playing forte. The music-director Türk, in Halle, known as a great theorician and as a good composer, usually had at his winter concerts the assistance of some students, as they occasioned him no expense and rendered his orchestra more complete. I offered to assist as a violin player; but, as the number of violinists was sufficient, while there was only one tenor player, he appointed me to the tenor. This I rather liked, since as the performances consisted chiefly of operatic music and oratorios, it enabled me to follow cursorily the words with the music. Without an acquaintance with the words, the music of the songs is hardly comprehensible. My colleague did the same. Not unfrequently we became so much absorbed in this pursuit that we played wrong,—nay, we lost our part,—without Türk perceiving it. On the other hand, it occurred not seldom that he cried out to us: "Die Prätschel!"[43] when we played correctly. This is easily explicable. If, for instance, five soprano singers execute in unison a passage rather rapidly, and one of them introduces a wrong tone not very loud, the best music-director will not perceive it; still less when the mistake occurs in the middle parts where the other parts cover the false tone. Of course, it is different if the tone is long sustained and sung loud."
When Kratz has made himself rather ridiculous, he can philosophize about the occurrence so that it appears to him very interesting. Take, for instance, his account of a rehearsal in which he ventured to play a violin concerto beyond his power:—
"When the orchestra had played the introductory Tutti, and I had to begin the Solo,—suddenly it becomes misty before my eyes, my whole body trembles, I cannot see the notes clearly, cannot command my fingers, cannot manage the bow. We begin again, and a third time; but it is not much better, although we make some progress. By degrees I become more collected; still my playing remains a wretched attempt to the end, provoking the suppressed and loud laughter of the musicians. None of the somewhat difficult passages, which I knew by heart, could I play. I am not a virtuoso on the violin; but if one has attained a certain dexterity, one must be able to play those pieces which one has properly learnt. Thus this rehearsal enriched my psychology, inasmuch as it served me as an example for the proposition:—It is very difficult, if not impossible, to appear in later years before the public in a capacity in which one has not appeared in early youth. The fear for the teacher suppresses in youth the shyness for the public, and accustoms us to resist it, and not allow it to become an obstacle. The fear for the teacher is a support which later we miss, while the shyness which overcomes us is all the stronger since we have learnt the value of the opinion which formerly concentrated only in the teacher, and with which we were well acquainted beforehand. While as a singer and a declamator I feel the most at my ease when I appear before a large audience, at the rehearsal, in the presence of an orchestra only, I could not play a violin concerto, merely because the former I have done in public from early youth, and this never before."
The proceeds of his concerts he divided into two equal portions, one of which he regularly forwarded after the concert to the relief fund for the wounded soldiers, retaining the other half to defray his travelling expenses. But his concerts were often so thinly attended that they realized no proceeds to divide, and hardly sufficient means for his subsistence. He feared to come into suspicion of having appropriated to himself more than his due; and he felt vexed at the implications which he sometimes thought he detected in the remarks of strangers, intimating that the wounded soldiers were of more use to him than he to them.
Reduced to this extremity, Kratz resolved to trouble himself no further about the wounded soldiers, and henceforth to give his musical-declamatory entertainments for his own benefit. And with this step begins a new epoch in his life, in which he depicts himself in his journal as a genuine vagabond musician. After two years' rambles, he writes:—"I must mention that my purse is at present in a very low condition. This is something very common to all travelling artists with or without reputation, and does not happen now for the first time to me. In Silesia and other provinces I had already experienced the same trouble. Considering the peculiar nature of my vocation, I never expected from the very outset of my rambles that I should gain much money. That I have not suffered more frequently, is owing to my very moderate habits, and also to the circumstance that my strong physical condition enables me to brave any adversities. Whenever my endeavours to obtain an audience in a town failed, I at once submitted myself to restrictions and deprivations. I should not even now think this worth mentioning, did it not show how greatly I had to suffer on account of the musical festival at Frankenhausen. In fact, it was owing to this that I became for the first time quite destitute." This happened in 1815. The musical festival in Frankenhausen was under the management of music-director G. F. Bischoff. A new cantata by Spohr, performed in the presence of the composer, who afterwards played a violin concerto, constituted its principal attraction. It speaks much for the love of music in Kratz that, notwithstanding his miserable circumstances, he carried out his intention of attending the festival. His request for permission to assist in the orchestra, or in the chorus, met with a refusal on the pretext that it came too late, all the places being filled. Disappointed, he bent his steps to Heringen, a neighbouring small town, with the intention of giving a musical-declamatory entertainment which might help him to some food, and to the price of a ticket of admission to the concert in Frankenhausen. His struggles he faithfully records thus:—
"In Ashausen, a village three-quarters of an hour's walk from Heringen, I went into the inn for the night. It was Sunday. The room below was full. I heard music in the upper room; went up stairs, and found there was dancing going on. I watched the dancers for a long time. Then, merely for my love of music, I placed myself among the musicians and played occasionally with them. When they thus recognised me as a musician, they treated me—but, unfortunately, with spirits. However, sometimes bread and butter, and oftener cake, was handed to them, of which I was likewise asked to partake; and this suited me better. After the dancing was over, several peasants gathered round the new musician, and I played to them dance-tunes on the violin, which they liked better than the tunes of their own band. I took up a horn, having learnt the instrument formerly, and blew them a piece or two. They now wanted to treat me with spirits, which I however felt obliged to decline, although it was fine liqueur; for I am no spirit-drinker. The cake, unhappily, was consumed. I now learnt that they were celebrating the baptism of a child. I only wished they might continue the whole night, as it would save me the expense of a bed. However, about three o'clock in the morning the last of the company departed, and I had to go down into the public room, where I threw myself on a bench to avoid paying for a bed. Nevertheless, the unreasonable host demanded that I should pay him for having slept in his house; but this I did not, because I had only two groschen[44] in my possession, and could not entirely divest myself of cash. I therefore paid him only a half groschen for a cup of coffee in the morning."
Arrived, on Monday, at Heringen: "In the afternoon I happen to pass the church, which is open. I enter and sit down, tarrying near to my Only Friend. There I remain alone for a long time, occupied with my reflections; for, I stand so alone in the world.—In the evening the decisive hour approaches; the concert at Frankenhausen is at stake, and—Behold! I have an audience of nineteen persons, few expenses, the host of the Town-Hall means it well with me, and Frankenhausen is safe!"
Kratz shows himself always to the greatest advantage when he is very badly off. As soon as he gains a little money, he generally becomes quarrelsome. It would only be painful to trace his ups and downs,—the former occurring but occasionally, and being but slight,—until his arrival in Cassel. In this town the manager of the theatre, perhaps in an unguarded moment of compassion, gives him hope of an engagement as singer. The music-director Guhr holds out the same encouragement, amounting almost to a promise. They afterwards find that their intention cannot possibly be carried out. Kratz, greatly disappointed, brings an action against them for breach of promise. Other persons become implicated in this formidable law-suit, which is carried on for about two years. During all the time Kratz makes constant pedestrian tours into the country, giving musical-declamatory entertainments in the small towns and villages, living on the plainest of fare and sleeping upon straw. When he has scraped together a few thalers, he returns to Cassel to hand them over to his lawyer. One cannot but admire his energy; if he had employed only half of it in a noble cause, he might have done much good. He lost his law-suit and left Cassel.
On New Year's Eve, 1816, we find him in full-dress at a ball given by a former fellow-student, now a person of high position in Quedlinburg, who has taken him for a week into his house, and has dressed him up. The next day, Kratz reflects upon the event, in his journal, thus:—
"January 1st, 1817. Every thing changes in life. The deadening winter is followed by the reviving spring; out of the moistened eye beams again the sun-ray of joy. The first day of the last year found me in the hut of a peasant, sleeping on a couch of straw, and my rest unpleasantly disturbed by the firing of volleys by the peasant lads; the first day of this year finds me awake in a brilliantly-lighted saloon, where I am surrounded by varicoloured figures moving in the brightness of light, where the sound of music floats agreeably about my ears, while I am blissfully waltzing round with the most charming girl in the room."
Unfortunately for Kratz, this blissful state was of but short duration. Soon we find him again as before in his "Rambles of an Artist," except that he now moves gradually to the North, until he reaches Hamburg, which he enters, and where we lose sight of him.
In the present survey several books have been mentioned which possess but little value. Still, they deserve a place among the fanciful, paradoxical, extravagant, and quaint publications relating to the art of music. Some more might have been cited; but the list is probably large enough to convince the lover of music that we are by no means in want of curiosities in our musical literature.
