It is especially desirable that the materials for the biography of a man of genius—a great artist, poet or scholar, should be ample, embracing even the most trivial details. We often remain in ignorance of the real character of a celebrated person, because we cannot possess ourselves of any faithful history of those circumstances of his life, which always exert a vast influence, and have perhaps chiefly contributed to render him what he is.
The position now occupied by Liszt, makes a notice of his life particularly interesting. In the prime of manhood, he is already acknowledged to be the first pianist of the age. Europe, in all its length and breadth, is filled with his fame. He belongs to the whole world. Who takes so little interest in the progress of art, in our day, as to be inattentive to the note of triumph borne on the winds through Germany, France, and England? But it is not enough for the heedful listener that all is now light and enthusiasm; he would look back into years past, and catch the dull echo of the murmurings of envy and jealousy. He would admire and bless the artist’s firmness and constancy, the energy of soul that persevered against all discouragements—that bore with the toil of study—and struggled onward, though burdened and weary, till the goal at last was reached, and labor crowned by success. To all who sympathize with him, it will be interesting briefly to observe his progress.
Francis Liszt was born on the twenty-second of October, 1811, in Reiding, a village not far from Oedenburg, in Hungary. The year of his birth was remarkable for the appearance of a comet; a fact which did not fail to impress the mind of his father, Adam Liszt. He looked upon the phenomenon as a sign of his son’s future eminence. This superstition of a fond parent may meet with some indulgence, when it is recollected how Goëthe himself, who seemed in general most at home on earth, commenced his confessions of “Poetry and Truth.”
Adam Liszt was in the service of Prince Esterhazy; and was so excellent a musician, that he could rank high as a virtuoso among the connoisseurs. His instrument also was the piano: and with his splendid execution, had he come forward, he might have obtained no small reputation. But he preferred to remain unknown, having no desire to acquire celebrity for himself. All his ambition and his hopes centered in his son. Often, when he had been playing, while the boy listened, absorbed profoundly, to the melody he drew from the instrument, he would seize the happy moment to impress the young listener with his counsels. “My son,” he would say, “you are destined to realize the glorious ideal that has shone in vain before my youth. In you that is to reach its fulfilment, which I have myself but faintly conceived. In you shall my genius grow up, and bear fruit; I shall renew my youth in you, even after I am laid in the grave.”
Such prophetic words call to recollection the poor woman in Genoa, who held her son upon her knees, and talked to him of heavenly visions. “Nicolo,” said she to the boy, “an angel came to me last night, and told me thou should’t be one of the greatest performers of thy time.” That boy was Paganini. How wonderfully has the prophecy been fulfilled—both in Paganini and Liszt!
Before it bursts forth in its full splendor, genius shows itself in gleams and at intervals, revealed often by a word or look. The observing father, the tender mother, are usually first to discern it while unrecognized by others; and to anticipate, from slight intimations, the future greatness of the child.
With more than a parent’s joy did Adam Liszt observe the first germ of his boy’s talent. He placed the small fingers on the keys; played simple tunes—which were readily imitated; he saw that all would be according to his wish! These exercises were commenced when the little Francis was six years old; at the age of nine he played for the first time in public at Oedenburg, Ries’ Concerto, in three flats; and at the conclusion extemporized a fantaisie. The boy improvised without difficulty the most striking rhythmen, the most surprising cadences. The spectators were struck with surprise and admiration, and tears of joy bedewed the happy father’s cheeks. All wondered at the genius of the young performer; his friends embraced and praised him; Prince Esterhazy put fifty ducats into his little hand, and gave him a warm recommendation to all the noble patrons of music in Hungary. This was the first step in his career; but one so important that he could no more go back.
The high commendations he received, were far from encouraging idleness in the young artist. On the contrary, they caused him to look into himself, and to contemplate earnestly the steep height he had to climb, if he would justify all these large expectations. The youth of Francis, therefore, was laborious and full of trouble. That noble ambition, which fills every great soul, was often a torment to him. The struggles of the spirit weakened the body; and sickness interrupted his exertions. This state of things brought about in him that delicate, nervous sensibility which renders the artist susceptible to all impressions; so that his excitable fancy is wrought upon by every idea or object. Vague religious feelings, sometimes pleasing, sometimes melancholy, took possession of him; his soul was divided between study and prayer. As the boy Goëthe, in his naive devotion, kindled pastilles on his father’s desk, and watched the incense rise heavenward, the boy Liszt was absorbed in the mystical philosophy of a Jacob Böhme, and walked with his imagination among apocalyptical visions. He thought he grew thereby stronger for his art, and more susceptible to the impression and power of dreams. He wandered, uncertain in religion as in art, often starting back shudderingly as he hovered over the infinite abyss.
These boyish visions—he was then from ten to twelve years old—were not without influence upon his genius in after life. Let us trace in some measure the poetry of his progress, striving to throw the torch of fancy over his moments of romance. It is a task of importance, to analyze such a mind!