Music-Study in Germany, from the Home Correspondence of Amy Fay

Music-Study in Germany, from the Home Correspondence of Amy Fay
Amy Fay

Amy Fay

Music-Study in Germany, from the Home Correspondence of Amy Fay

PREFATORY NOTE

COMPARATIVELY few books on music have enjoyed the distinction of reissue. Twenty-one editions is an amazing record for a book of so narrow a subject as "Music Study in Germany." The case of Miss Amy Fay's volume becomes all the more unusual, if one considers that her letters were written only for home, not for a public audience and further that within twenty years from the year of first publication, her observations had become more or less obsolete.

The Germany of the years 1869-1875 was quite different from the Germany of 1900 and certainly of 1912, even down to German table-manners. The earlier "Spiessbürgertum" of which Miss Fay gives such entertaining glimpses even in high quarters with their pomp and circumstance, was rapidly being replaced, at least outwardly, by the more cosmopolitan culture of the fin de siècle, not to mention the ambition for political, industrial and commercial "Weltmacht" in a nation thitherto known, perhaps too romantically, as a nation of "Denker und Dichter."

Most of the heroes of the book are long since dead, Miss Fay included, who died in 1921. While even as late as 1890, Miss Fay's volume could have been used as a guide of orientation by the would-be student of music in Germany, certainly it could no longer serve such a purpose during the years just prior to the war, when the lone American student of her book who despised Germany and everything German was definitely in the ascendency. In other words, her personal observations had ceased to be applicable except in certain details of ambient and had passed into the realm of autobiography valuable for historical reading. As a piece of historical literature proper, I doubt that the book would have survived the war, because it is lamentably true that the average American music-student or even cultured lover of music is not particularly interested in musical history as such.

To this must be added the indisputable fact that "music study in Germany" or in France, for that matter, had become a mere matter of personal taste and predilection, and was not a necessity as in the days of Miss Fay's amusing experiments with this or that German teacher of renown. An endless stream of excellent European artists and teachers had poured into America since then, augmented by the equally broad stream of native Americans who had learned their métier abroad. Music study in America thus became an easy matter and many an aspiring virtuoso would have done more wisely by staying and studying at home, instead of venturing to a European country with its different language, its different temperament, its different mode of living, customs and so forth. Germany, in particular, is still a "marvellous home of music," to quote an editorial remark of Miss Fay's sister, but it is no longer the "only real home of music," thanks precisely to such artists as Miss Amy Fay herself.

To point out the radical change in conditions in that respect is one thing, quite another to deny, as some rather zealotic patriots do, that Europe, Germany included, can still give the American music-student something which he does not have at home quite in the same manner. Debate on that subject is futile. Let the American music-student at some time in his career, but only when he is ripe for further study in a foreign country, sojourn a few years in Paris, Berlin, Leipzig, Munich, Vienna, Rome, London, and he will profitably encounter, whether it be to his taste or not, that indefinable something which the old world in matters of life, art, and art-life possessed as peculiarly its own in 1870, still possesses to-day, and will possess for many, many years to come.

What, then, gives to Miss Fay's book its vitality? What is it that justifies the publisher in keeping the book accessible for the benefit of those who wish to study music in Germany instead of elsewhere or of those even who study music in America?

Of course, there is first of all the charm of Miss Fay's own personality, the charm of her observations intimately, entertainingly, and shrewdly expressed. That makes for good reading. Incidentally, it teaches a student-reader to be observant, which unfortunately many musicians are not, even in matters of technique on their chosen instrument. Secondly, the seriousness of purpose of the authoress, the determination to improve her understanding of art and technique to the very limit of her natural ability, will act as a stimulating tonic for him or her who despairs of ever conquering the often so forbidding difficulties of music. The book will teach patience to Americans, patience and endurance in endeavor, qualities which are none too frequent in us. Young America forgets too often that the Gradus ad Parnassum is not only steep; it is long and rough.

There is furthermore in these letters that respect for solid accomplishment of others, that reverential attitude toward the great in art and toward art itself, without which no musician, however talented, will ever reach the commanding heights of art. There permeates these letters the enthusiasm of youth, that perhaps sometimes overshoots its mark but for which most of us would gladly exchange the more critical attitude of maturer years. For we learn to appreciate sooner or later that enthusiasm is the propelling force and the refreshing source of inspiration. Finally, born of all these elements there appear on the pages of Miss Fay's letters such fascinating pen-portraits as that of her revered master, Franz Liszt, the incomparable. Turning the pages of the volume to refresh my memory and impression of it, I confess that I skipped quite a few because their interest seemed so remote and personal, but I found myself absorbing every word Miss Fay had to say in her chapters about Liszt and his Weimar circle. An enjoyable experience which one may safely recommend to those who desire first-hand impressions of the golden days of pianism in Germany, of the romantic, indeed almost legendary figure of Franz Liszt, and consequently a touch of the stuff out of which art-novels are made, into the bargain.

    O. G. SONNECK

PREFACE

—

IN preparing for the public letters which were written only for home, I have hoped that some readers would find in them the charm of style which the writer's friends fancy them to possess; that others would think the description of her masters amid their pupils, and especially Liszt, worth preserving; while piano students would be grateful for the information that an analysis of the piano technique has been made, such as very greatly to diminish the difficulties of the instrument.

How much of Herr Deppe's piano "method" is original with himself, pianists must decide. That he has at least made an invaluable résumé of all or most of their secrets, my sister believes no student of the instrument who fairly and conscientiously examines into the matter will deny.

    M. FAY PEIRCE.

CHICAGO, Dec., 1880.

PREFACE

TO THE ENGLISH EDITION

—

MISS FAY'S little book has been so popular in her own country as to have gone through half a dozen editions, and even in German, into which it was translated soon after its first appearance, it has had much success. It is strange that it has not been already published in England, where music excites so much attention, and where works on musical subjects are beginning to form a distinct branch of literature. This is the more remarkable because it is thoroughly readable and amusing, which books on music too rarely are. The freshness and truth of the letters is not to be denied. We may laugh at the writer's enthusiasm, at the readiness with which she changes her methods and gives up all that she has already learnt at the call of each fresh teacher, at the certainty with which every new artist is announced as quite the best she ever heard, and at the glowing and confident predictions – not, alas, apparently always realised. But no one can laugh at her indomitable determination, and the artistic earnestness with which she makes the most of each of her opportunities, or the brightness and ease with which all is described (in choice American), and each successive person placed before us in his habit as he lives. Such a gift is indeed a rare and precious one. Will Miss Fay never oblige us with an equally charming and faithful account of music and life in the States? Hitherto musical America has been almost an unknown land to us, described by the few who have attempted it in the most opposite terms. Their singers we already know well, and in this respect America is perhaps destined to be the Italy of the future, if only the artists will consent to learn slowly enough. But on the subject of American players and American orchestras, and the taste of the American amateurs, a great deal of curiosity is felt, and we commend the subject to the serious attention of one so thoroughly able to do it justice.

    GEORGE GROVE.

December, 1885.

PREFACE

TO THE GERMAN EDITION

—

Die vorliegenden Briefe einer Amerikanerin in die Heimath, die im Original bereits in zweiter Auflage erschienen sind, werden, so hoffen wir, auch dem deutschen Leser nicht minderes Vergnügen, nicht geringere Anregung als dem amerikanischen gewähren, da sie in unmittelbarer Frische niedergeschrieben, ein lebendiges Bild von den Beziehungen der Verfasserin zu den hervorragendsten musikalischen Persönlichkeiten, wie Liszt, v. Bülow, Tausig, Joachim u. s. w. bieten.

Wir geben das Buch in wortgetreuer Uebersetzung und haben es nur um diejenigen Briefe gekürzt, die in Deutschland Allzubekanntes behandeln. Hingegen glaubten wir die Stellen dem Leser nicht vorenthalten zu dürfen, welche zwar nicht musikalischen Inhalts sind, uns aber zeigen, wie manche unserer deutschen Zu-oder Mißstände von Amerikanern beurtheilt werden.

    Robert Oppenheim, Publisher.

Berlin, 1882.

CHAPTER I

A German Interior in Berlin. A German Party. Joachim. Tausig's Conservatory

    BERLIN, November 3, 1869.

Behold me at last at No. 26 Bernburger Strasse! where I arrived exactly two weeks from the day I left New York. Frau W. and her daughter, Fräulein A. W., greeted me with the greatest warmth and cordiality, and made me feel at home immediately. The German idea of a "large" room I find is rather peculiar, for this one is not more than ten or eleven feet square, and has one corner of it snipped off, so that the room is an irregular shape. When I first entered it I thought I could not stay in it, it seemed so small, but when I came to examine it, so ingeniously is every inch of space made the most of, that I have come to the conclusion that it will be very comfortable. It is not, however, the apartment where "the last new novel will lie upon the table, and where my daintily slippered feet will rest upon the velvet cushion." No! rather is it the stern abode of the Muses.

To begin then: the room is spotlessly clean and neat. The walls are papered with a nice new paper, grey ground with blue figures – a cheap paper, but soft and pretty. In one corner stands my little bureau with three deep drawers. Over it is a large looking-glass nicely framed. In the other corner on the same side is a big sofa which at night becomes a little bed. Next to the foot of the sofa, against the wall, stands a tiny square table, with a marble top, and a shelf underneath, on which are a basin and a minute soap-dish and tumbler. In the opposite corner towers a huge grey porcelain stove, which comes up to within a few feet of the ceiling. Next is one stiff cane-bottomed chair on four stiff legs. Then comes the lop-sided corner of the room, where an upright piano is to stand. Next there is a little space where hangs the three-shelved book-case, which will contain my vast library. Then comes a broad French window with a deep window-seat. By this window is my sea-chair – by far the most luxurious one in the house! Then comes my bureau again, and so on Da Capo. In the middle is a pretty round table, with an inlaid centre-piece, and on it is a waiter with a large glass bottle full of water, and a glass; and this, with one more stiff chair, completes the furniture of the room. My curtains are white, with a blue border, and two transparencies hang in the window. My towel-rack is fastened to the wall, and has an embroidered centre-piece. On my bureau is a beautiful inkstand, the cover being a carved eagle with spread wings, perched over a nest with three eggs in it. It is quite large, and looks extremely pretty under the looking-glass.

After I had taken off my things, Frau W. and her daughter ushered me into their parlour, which had the same look of neatness and simplicity and of extreme economy. There are no carpets on any of the floors, but they have large, though cheap, rugs. You never saw such a primitive little household as it is – that of this German lawyer's widow. We think our house at home small, but I feel as if we lived in palatial magnificence after seeing how they live here, i. e., about as our dressmakers used to do in the country, and yet it is sufficiently nice and comfortable. There are two very pretty little rooms opposite mine, which are yet to be let together. If some friend of mine could only take them I should be perfectly happy.

At night my bed is made upon the sofa. (They all sleep on these sofas.) The cover consists of a feather bed and a blanket. That sounds rather formidable, but the feather bed is a light, warm covering, and looks about two inches thick. It is much more comfortable than our bed coverings in America. I tuck myself into my nest at night, and in the morning after breakfast, when I return to my room —agramento-presto-change!– my bed is converted into a sofa, my basin is laid on the shelf, the soap-dish and my combs and brushes are scuttled away into the drawer; the windows are open, a fresh fire crackles in my stove, and my charming little bed-room is straightway converted into an equally charming sitting-room. How does the picture please you?

This morning Frau and Fräulein W. went with me to engage a piano, and they took me also to the conservatory. Tausig is off for six weeks, giving concerts. As I went up the stairs I heard most beautiful playing. Ehlert, Tausig's partner, who has charge of the conservatory, and teaches his pupils in his absence, examined me. After that long voyage I did not dare attempt anything difficult, so I just played one of Bach's Gavottes. He said some encouraging words, and for the present has taken me into his class. I am to begin to-morrow from one o'clock to two. It is now ten P. M., and tell C. we have had five meals to-day, so Madame P.'s statement is about correct. The cooking is on the same scale as the rest of the establishment – a little at a time, but so far very good. We know nothing at all about rolls in America. Anything so delicious as the rolls here I never ate in the way of bread. In the morning we had a cup of coffee and rolls. At eleven we lunched on a cup of bouillon and a roll. At two o'clock we had dinner, which consisted of soup and then chickens, potatoes, carrots and bread, with beer. At five we had tea, cake and toast, and at nine we had a supper of cold meat, boiled eggs, tea and bread and butter. Fräulein W. speaks English quite nicely, and is my medium of communication with her mother. I begin German lessons with her to-morrow. They both send you their compliments, and so you must return yours. They seem as kind as possible, and I think I am very fortunate in my boarding place.

Be sure to direct your letters "Care Frau Geheimräthin W." (Mrs. Councillor W.), as the German ladies are very particular about their titles!

    BERLIN, November 21, 1869.

Since I wrote to you not much of interest has occurred. I am delighted with Berlin, and am enjoying myself very much, though I am working hard. I am so thankful that all my sewing was done before I came, for I have not a minute to spare for it, and here it seems to me all the dresses fit so dreadfully. It would make me miserable to wear such looking clothes, and as I can't speak the language, the difficulties in the way of giving directions on the technicalities of dressmaking would be terrific. Tell C. he is very wise to continue his German conversation lessons with Madame P. Even the few that I took prove of immense assistance to me, as I can understand almost everything that is said to me, though I cannot answer back. He ought to make one of his lessons about shopping and droschkie driving, for it is very essential to know how to ask for things, and to be able to give directions in driving. I had a very funny experience with a droschkie the other day, but it would take too long to write it. Frau W. cannot understand English, and she gets dreadfully impatient when Fräulein A. and I speak it, and always says "Deutsch" in a sepulchral tone, so that I have to begin and say it all over again in German with A.'s help.

When I got fairly settled I presented myself and my letters at the Bancrofts, the B's. and the A's., and was very kindly and cordially received by them all. Mrs. Bancroft and Mrs. B. have since called in return, and I have already been to a charming reception at the house of the latter, and to the grand American Thanksgiving dinner at the Hotel de Rome, at which Mr. Bancroft presided, and made very happy speeches both in English and German. I enjoyed both occasions extremely, and made some pleasant acquaintances. I have also been to one German tea-party with Frau W. and A., and there I had "the jolliest kind of a time." There were only twelve invited, but you would have supposed from the clatter that there were at least a hundred. At the American dinner there was nothing like the noise of conversation that this little handful kept up. Before supper it was rather stupid, for the men all retired to a room by themselves, where they sat with closed doors and played whist and smoked. It is not considered proper for ladies to play cards except at home, and I, of course, did not say much, for the excellent reason that I couldn't! At ten o'clock supper was announced, and the gentlemen came and took us in. Herr J. was my partner. He is a delightful man, though an elderly one, and knows no end of things, as he has spent his whole life in study and in travelling. He looks to me like a man of very sensitive organization, and of very delicate feelings. He is a tremendous republican, and a great radical in every respect, and has an unbounded admiration for America.

As soon as every one was seated at the table with due form and ceremony, all began to talk as hard as they could, and you have no idea what a noise they made, and how it increased toward the end with the potent libations they had. The bill of fare was rather curious. We began with slices of hot tongue, with a sauce of chestnuts, and it was extremely nice, too. Then we had venison and boiled potatoes! Then we had a dessert consisting of fruit, and some delicious cake. There were several kinds of wine, and everybody drank the greatest quantity. The host and hostess kept jumping up and going round to everybody, saying: "But you drink nothing," and then they would insist upon filling up your glass. I don't dare to think how many times they filled mine, but it seemed to be etiquette to drink, and so I did as the rest. The repast ended with coffee, and then the gentlemen lit their cigars, and were in such an extremely cheerful frame of mind that they all began to sing, and I even saw two old fellows kiss each other! The venison was delicious, and nicer than any I ever ate. Herr J. was the only man in the room who could speak any English, and since then he takes a good deal of interest in me, and lends me books. Every Sunday Fran W. takes me to her sister's house to tea. I like to go because I hear so much German spoken there, and they all take a profound interest in my affairs. They know to a minute when I get a letter, and when I write one, and every incident of my daily life. It amuses them very much to see a real live wild Indian from America. I am soon going to another German party, and I look forward to it with much pleasure; not that the parties here give me the same feeling as at home, but they are amusing because they are so entirely different.

There is so much to be seen and heard in Berlin that if one has but the money there is no end to one's resources. There are the opera and the Schauspielhaus every night, and beautiful concerts every evening, too. They say that the opera here is magnificent, and the scenery superb, and they have a wonderful ballet-troupe. So far, however, I have only been to one concert, and that was a sacred concert. But Joachim played – and Oh-h, what a tone he draws out of the violin! I could think of nothing but Mrs. Moulton's voice, as he sighed out those exquisitely pathetic notes. He played something by Schumann which ended with a single note, and as he drew his bow across he produced so many shades that it was perfectly marvellous. I am going to hear him again on Sunday night, when he plays at Clara Schumann's concert. It will be a great concert, for she plays much. She will be assisted by Joachim, Müller, De Ahna, and by Joachim's wife, who has a beautiful voice and sings charmingly in the serious German style. Joachim himself is not only the greatest violinist in the world, but one of the greatest that ever lived. De Ahna is one of the first violinists in Germany, and Müller is one of the first 'cellists. In fact, this quartette cannot be matched in Europe – so you see what I am expecting!

Tausig has not yet returned from his concert tour, and will not arrive before the 21st of December. I find Ehlert a splendid teacher, but very severe, and I am mortally afraid of him. Not that he is cross, but he exacts so much, and such a hopeless feeling of despair takes possession of me. His first lesson on touch taught me more than all my other lessons put together – though, to be sure, that is not saying much, as they were "few and far between." At present I am weltering in a sea of troubles. The girls in my class are three in number, and they all play so extraordinarily well that sometimes I think I can never catch up with them. I am the worst of all the scholars in Tausig's classes that I have heard, except one, and that is a young man. I know that Ehlert thinks I have talent, but, after all, talent must go to the wall before such practice as these people have had, for most of them have studied a long time, and have been at the piano four and five hours a day.

It is very interesting in the conservatory, for there are pupils there from all countries except France. Some of them seem to me splendid musicians. On Sunday morning (I am sorry to say) once in a month or six weeks, they have what they call a "Musical Reading." It is held in a piano-forte ware-room, and there all the scholars in the higher classes play, so I had to go. Many of the girls played magnificently, and I was amazed at the technique that they had, and at the artistic manner in which even very young girls rendered the most difficult music, and all without notes. It gave me a severe nervous headache just to hear them. But it was delightful to see them go at it. None of them had the least fear, and they laughed and chattered between the pieces, and when their turn came they marched up to the piano, sat down as bold as lions, and banged away so splendidly!

You have no idea how hard they make Cramer's Studies here. Ehlert makes me play them tremendously forte, and as fast as I can go. My hand gets so tired that it is ready to break, and then I say that I cannot go on. "But you must go on," he will say. It is the same with the scales. It seems to me that I play them so loud that I make the welkin ring, and he will say, "But you play always piano." And with all this rapidity he does not allow a note to be missed, and if you happen to strike a wrong one he looks so shocked that you feel ready to sink into the floor. Strange to say, I enjoy the lessons in Zusammenspiel (duet-playing) very much, although it is all reading at sight. Four of us sit down at two pianos and read duets at sight. Lesmann is a pleasant man, and he always talks so fast that he amuses me very much. He always counts and beats time most vigorously, and bawls in your ear, "Eins – zwei! Eins – zwei!" or sometimes, "Eins!" only, on the first beat of every bar. When, occasionally, we all get out, he looks at us through his glasses, and then such a volley of words as he hurls at us is wonderful to hear. I never can help laughing, though I take good care not to let him see me.

But Weitzmann, the Harmony professor, is the funniest of all. He is the dearest old man in the world, and it is impossible for him to be cross; but he takes so much pains and trouble to make his class understand, and he has the most peculiar way of talking imaginable, and accents everything he says tremendously. I go to him because Ehlert says I must, but as I know nothing of the theory of music (and if I did, the names are so entirely different in German that I never should know what they are in English) it is extremely difficult for me to understand him at all. He knew I was an American, and let me pass for one or two lessons without asking me any questions, but finally his German love of thoroughness has got the better of him, and he is now beginning to take me in hand. At the last lesson he wrote some chords on the blackboard, and after holding forth for some time he wound up with his usual "Verstehen Sie wohl – Ja? (Do you understand – Yes?)" to the class, who all shouted "Ja," except me. I kept a discreet silence, thinking he would not notice, but he suddenly turned on me and said, "Verstehen Sie wohl – Ja?" I was as puzzled what to say as the Pharisees were when they were asked if the baptism of John were of heaven or of men. I knew that if I said "Ja," he might call on me for a proof, and that if I said "Nein," he would undertake to enlighten me, and that I should not understand him.