171 To J. W. von Wasielewski in Dresden
Dear Friend,
Your letter reached me, after some delay, in Zurich, where I had to keep my bed for several weeks—and today I write to you still from my bed, and sulking because the geographical change which I have made has not brought about any improvement in my pathological condition (which, by the way, is quite without danger).
How are you, dear Wasielewski? Have you settled yourself pleasantly in Dresden? Are you working at music industriously and methodically?—How far have you got in your biography of R. Schumann? With regard to this work, the publication of which I am awaiting with great interest, I am sorry to be unable to follow the wish you so kindly express. Many letters addressed to me by Schumann in earlier years are lost, and since my residence in Weymar (from the year 1848) we certainly wrote to one another from time to time, but only when theater or concert performances of his works gave a sort of business occasion for it. Weymar does not deserve the reproach of having kept itself too much in the background in this respect. At the Goethe Festival in 1849 I had the great closing scene to the second part of “Faust” given, which was, later on, repeated; at the beginning of 1852 the music to Byron’s “Manfred,” with a stage performance of the drama such as he desired, was given several times, and, as far as I know, up to now no other theater has made this attempt. [Liszt was actually the first.] The Weymar theater is likewise the only one which contains in its repertoire Schumann’s “Genoveva” (which was indeed given here for the first time in April 1855). It goes without saying that, during the years of my work here, most of his chamber music—Quartets, Trios, Sonatas—as well as his Symphonies, Overtures, and Songs, have been cherished with particular preference and love, and have been frequently heard in various concerts, with the exception of one of the most important; but the very slight amount of public activity of our Vocal Union has prevented, as yet, any performance of the “Peri,” which, however, has already been partly studied, and will ere long be given at last.
As a contribution to your biographical studies, dear Wasielewski, I should like to tell you truly with what sincere, heartfelt, and complete reverence I have followed Schumann’s genius during twenty years and faithfully adhered to it. Although I am sure that you, and all who know me more intimately, have no doubt about this, yet at this moment the feeling comes over me—a feeling which I cannot resist—to tell you more fully about my relations with R. Schumann, which date from the year 1836, and to give them you here plainly in extenso. Have a little patience, therefore, in reading this letter, which I have not time to make shorter.
After the buzz and hubbub called forth by my article in the Paris Gazette Musicale on Thalberg (the meaning of which, be it said in passing, has been quite distorted), which was re-echoed in German papers and salons, Maurice Schlesinger, the then proprietor of the Gazette Musicale, took the opportunity of asking me to insert in his paper a very eulogistic article on anything new that came out in the world of Art. For months Schlesinger sent me with this object all sorts of novelties, among which, however, I could not find anything that seemed to me deserving of praise, until at last, when I was at the Lake of Como, Schumann’s “Impromptu” in C major (properly variations), the “Etudes symphoniques,” and the “Concert sans orchestre” [Concerto without orchestra] (published later, in the second edition, under the more suitable title Sonata in F minor) came into my hands. In playing these pieces through, I felt at once what musical mettle was in them; and, without having previously heard anything of Schumann, without knowing how or where he lived (for I had not at that time been to Germany, and he had no name in France and Italy), I wrote the critique which was published in the Gazette Musicale towards the end of 1837, and which became known to Schumann.
Soon afterwards, when I was giving my first concerts in Vienna (April to May 1838), he wrote to me and sent me a manuscript entitled “Gruss an Franz Liszt in Deutschland” [“Greeting to Franz Liszt in Germany”]. I forget at this moment under what title it was afterwards published; the opening bars are as follows:—
[Here, Liszt hand-writes the score for the opening bars. It is the beginning of the second Novelette Op. 21, but not quite correctly quoted by Liszt]
At about the same time followed the publishing of the great “Fantasia” (C major) in three movements, which he dedicated to me; my dedication to him in return for this glorious and noble work was only made three years ago in my “Sonata” in B minor.
At the beginning of the winter of 1840 I traveled from Vienna back to Paris by way of Prague, Dresden, and Leipzig. Schumann paid me the friendly attention of welcoming me immediately on my arrival in Dresden, and we then travelled together to Leipzig. Wieck, afterwards Schumann’s father-in-law, had at that time a lawsuit against him to prevent his marriage with Clara. I had known Wieck and his daughter from Vienna days, and was friendly with both. None the less I refused to see Wieck again in Dresden, as he had made himself so unfriendly to Schumann; and, breaking off all further intercourse with him, I took Schumann’s side entirely, as seemed to me only right and natural. Wieck without delay richly requited me for this after my first appearance in Leipzig, where he aired his bitter feelings against me in several papers. One of my earlier pupils, by name Hermann Cohen—a native of Hamburg, who in later years aroused much attention in France, and who, as a monk, had taken the name of Frere Augustin (Carme dechausse [Barefooted Carmelite])—was the scapegoat in Leipzig for Wieck’s publicly inflamed scandal, so that Cohen was obliged to bring an action for damage by libel against Wieck, which action Hermann won with the assistance of Dr. Friederici, barrister-at-law.
In Leipzig Schumann and I were together every day and all day long—and my comprehension of his works became thereby more familiar and intimate. Since my first acquaintance with his compositions, I have played many of them in private circles in Milan, Vienna, etc., but without being able to win over my hearers to them. They lay, happily, much too far removed from the insipid taste, which at that time absolutely dominated, for it to be possible for any one to thrust them into the commonplace circle of approbation. The public did not care for them, and the majority of pianists did not understand them. In Leipzig even, where I played the “Carneval” at my second concert in the Gewandhaus, I did not succeed in obtaining my usual applause. The musicians, together with those who were supposed to understand music, had (with few exceptions) their ears still too tightly stopped up to be able to comprehend this charming, tasteful “Carneval,” the various numbers of which are harmoniously combined in such artistic fancy. I do not doubt that, later on, this work will maintain its natural place in universal recognition by the side of the “Thirty-three Variations on a Waltz of Diabelli” by Beethoven (to which, in my opinion, it is superior even in melodic invention and importance). The frequent ill-success of my performances of Schumann’s compositions, both in private circles and in public, discouraged me from including and keeping them in the programmes of my concerts which followed so rapidly on one another—programmes which, partly from want of time and partly from carelessness and satiety of the “Glanz-Periode” [“Splendor period”] of my pianoforte-playing, I seldom, except in the rarest cases, planned myself, but gave them now into this one’s hands, and now that one, to choose what they liked. That was a mistake, as I discovered later and deeply regretted, when I had learned to understand that for the artist who wishes to be worthy of the name of artist the danger of not pleasing the public is a far less one than that of allowing oneself to be decided by its humors
—and to this danger every executive artist is especially exposed, if he does not take courage resolutely and on principle to stand earnestly and consistently by his conviction, and to produce those works which he knows to be the best, whether people like them or not.
It is of no consequence, then, in how far my faint-heartedness in regard to Schumann’s pianoforte compositions might possibly be excused by the all-ruling taste of the day, but I did without thinking of it thereby set a bad example, for which I can hardly make amends again. The stream of custom and the slavery of the artist, who is directed to the encouragement and applause of the multitude for the maintenance and improvement of his existence and his renown, is such a pull-back, that, even to the better-minded and more courageous ones, among whom I am proud to reckon myself, it is intensely difficult to preserve their better ego in the face of all the covetous, distracted, and—despite their large number—backward-in-paying We.
There is in Art a pernicious offence, of which most of us are guilty through carelessness and fickleness; I might call it the Pilate offence. Classical doing, and classical playing, which have become the fashion of late years, and which may be regarded as an improvement, on the whole, in our musical state of things, hide in many a one this fault, without eradicating it:—I might say more on this point, but it would lead me too far.
For my part I need not, at least, reproach myself with having ever denied my sympathy and reverence for Schumann; and a hundred of the younger companions in Art in all lands could bear witness that I have always expressly directed them to a thorough study of his works, and have strengthened and refreshed myself by them.
If these particulars have not wearied you, dear Wasielewski, I will gladly continue them, and tell you about everything from my second visit to Leipzig (at the end of 1841) which was brought about by Schumann, up to my last meeting with him at Dusseldorf (in 1851). Friendly greetings
From yours most sincerely,
F. Liszt
Weymar, January 9th, 1857.