But Liszt would not even hear the boy play. "I have had," he declared positively, "enough of child prodigies. They never come to much." Tausig's father apparently acquiesced in the reply, but while he and Liszt were drinking wine and smoking together, he managed to smuggle the child on to the piano-stool behind Liszt, and signed to him to begin to play. The little Tausig plunged into Chopin's A flat Polonaise with such fire and boldness that Liszt turned his eagle head, and after a few bars cried, "I take him!" I heard Liszt say once that he could not endure child prodigies. "I have no time," said he, "for these artists die WERDEN sollen (that are to be)!"
———
WEIMAR, September 9, 1873.
This week has been one of great excitement in Weimar, on account of the wedding of the son of the Grand Duke. All sorts of things have been going on, and the Emperor and Empress came on from Berlin. There have been a great many rehearsals at the theatre of different things that were played, and of course Liszt took a prominent part in the arrangement of the music. He directed the Ninth Symphony, and played twice himself with orchestral accompaniments. One of the pieces he played was Weber's Polonaise in E major, and the other was one of his own Rhapsodies Hongroises. Of these I was at the rehearsal. When he came out on the stage the applause was tremendous, and enough in itself to excite and electrify one. I was enchanted to have an opportunity to hear Liszt as a concert player. The director of the orchestra here is a beautiful pianist and composer himself, as well as a splendid conductor, but it was easy to see that he had to get all his wits together to follow Liszt, who gave full rein to his imagination, and let the tempo fluctuate as he felt inclined. As for Liszt, he scarcely looked at the keys, and it was astounding to see his hands go rushing up and down the piano and perform passages of the utmost rapidity and difficulty, while his head was turned all the while towards the orchestra, and he kept up a running fire of remarks with them continually. "You violins, strike in sharp here." "You trumpets, not too loud there," etc. He did everything with the most immense aplomb, and without seeming to pay any attention to his hands, which moved of themselves as if they were independent beings and had their own brain and everything! He never did the same thing twice alike. If it were a scale the first time, he would make it in double or broken thirds the second, and so on, constantly surprising you with some new turn. While you were admiring the long roll of the wave, a sudden spray would be dashed over you, and make you catch your breath! No, never was there such a player! The nervous intensity of his touch takes right hold of you. When he had finished everybody shouted and clapped their hands like mad, and the orchestra kept up such a fanfare of applause, that the din was quite overpowering. Liszt smiled and bowed, and walked off the stage indifferently, not giving himself the trouble to come back, and presently he quietly sat down in the parquet, and the rehearsal proceeded. The concert itself took place at the court, so that I did not hear it. Metzdorf was there, however, and he said that Liszt played fabulously, of course, but that he was not as inspired as he was in the morning, and did not make the same effect.
———
WEIMAR, September 15, 1873.
The other day an excursion was arranged to Sondershausen, a town about three hours' ride from Weimar in the cars. There was to be a concert there in honour of Liszt, and a whole programme of his music was to be performed. About half a dozen of the "Lisztianer"—as the Weimarese dub Liszt's pupils—agreed to go, I, of course, being one. Liszt himself, the Countess von X. and Count S. were to lead the party. The morning we started was one of those perfect autumnal days when it is a delight simply to live.
After breakfast I hurried off to the station, where I met the others, everybody being in the highest spirits. Liszt and his titled friends travelled in a first class carriage by themselves. The rest of us went second class, in the next carriage behind. We were very gay indeed, and the time did not seem long till we arrived at Sondershausen, where we exchanged our seats in the cars for seats in an omnibus, and drove to the principal hotel. There were not sufficient accommodations for us all, owing to the number of strangers who had come to the festival, so Mrs. S. and I went to a smaller hotel in a more distant part of the town to engage rooms, intending to return and dine with Liszt and the rest. Just as our noisy vehicle clattered up to the inn and some of the gentlemen jumped out to arrange matters, the solemn strains of a chorale were heard from a church close by, with its grand and rolling organ accompaniment. Somehow it made me feel sad to hear it, and a sense of the transitoriness of things came over me. It seemed like one of those voices from the other world that call to us now and then.
After we had engaged our rooms, we drove back to the hotel where Liszt was staying, and where we were to dine immediately. It was in the centre of the town, and directly opposite the palace, which rose boldly on a sort of eminence with great flights of stone steps sweeping down to the road on each side. It looked quite imposing. An avenue wound up the hill to the right of it. In the dining-room of the hotel a long table was spread and all the places were carefully set. My place was next Count S. and not far from Liszt. So I was very well seated. Everybody began talking at once the minute dinner was served, as they always do at table in Germany. Toward the close of it were the usual number of toasts in honour of Liszt, to which he responded in rather a bored sort of way. I don't wonder he gets tired of them, for it is always the same thing. He did not seem to be in his usual spirits, and had a fatigued air.
After dinner he said, "Now let us go and see Fräulein Fichtner." Fräulein Fichtner was the young lady who was going to play his concerto in A major at the concert that evening. She is a well-known pianist in Germany, and is both pretty and brilliant. We started in a procession, which is the way one always walks with Liszt. It reminds me of those snow-balls the boys roll up at home—the crowd gathers as it proceeds! When we got to the house we entered an obscure corridor and began to find our way up a dark and narrow staircase. Some one struck a wax match. "Good!" called out Liszt, in his sonorous voice. "Leuchten Sie voraus (Light us up)." When we got to the top we pulled the bell and were let in by Fräulein Fichtner's mother. Fräulein Fichtner herself looked no ways dismayed at the number of her guests, though we had the air of coming to storm the house. She gaily produced all the chairs there were, and those who could not find a seat had to stand! She was in Weimar for a few days this summer. So we had all met her before, and I had once heard her play some duets by Schumann with Liszt, who enjoyed reading with "Pauline," as he calls her. It is to her that Raff has dedicated his exquisite "Maerchen (Fairy story)." She is a sparkling brunette, with a face full of intelligence. They say she writes charming little poems and is gifted in various ways. Not to tire her for the concert we only stayed about twenty minutes.