180 To Eduard Liszt
Best and excellent Eduard,
At last I send you the pianoforte edition of the Mass, which I could not get in order sooner, much as I wished to do so, partly owing to the excess of matters, letters, and business which have been pressing upon me, and partly also on account of my illness, which has obliged me to keep my bed for more than three weeks past. As regards the edition, which can be got up in two styles, according to whether one wants it to be economical or luxurious, I send you word of all that is necessary on the accompanying note-sheet (first page of the score—written by my hand), and beg you, best friend, to use your influence to get the proofs sent to me and to get the work published as quickly as possible. [The Gran Mass.]
Your last letter was again a great pleasure to me, owing to your loving comprehension of my works. That in composing them I do not quite work at haphazard and grope about in the dark, as my opponents in so many quarters reproach me with doing, will be gradually acknowledged by those among them who may be honest enough not to wish entirely to obstruct a right insight into the matter through preconceived views. As I have for years been conscious of the artistic task that lies before me, neither consistent perseverance nor quiet reflection shall be wanting for the fulfillment of it. May God’s blessing, without which nothing can prosper and bear fruit, rest on my work!—
I have read with attention and interest the discussions in the Vienna papers, to which the performance of the Preludes and the concert gave rise. As I had previously said to you, the doctrinaire Hanslick could not be favorable to me; his article is perfidious, but on the whole seemly. Moreover it would be an easy matter for me to reduce his arguments to nil, and I think he is sharp enough to know that. On a better opportunity this could also be shown to him, without having the appearance of correcting him. I suppose the initials C. D. in the Vienna paper mean Dorffl—or Drechsler? No matter by whom the critique is written, the author convicts himself in it of such intense narrowness that he will be very welcome to many other people less narrow than himself. His like has already often existed, but is constantly in demand. The musician nowadays cannot get out of the way of all the buzzing. Twenty years ago there were hardly a couple of musical papers in Europe, and the political papers referred only in the most rare cases, and then only very briefly, to musical matters. Now all this is quite different, and with my “Preludes,” for instance (which, by the way, are only the prelude to my path of composition), many dozen critics by profession have already pounced on them, in order to ruin me through and through as a composer. I by no means say that present conditions, taken as a whole, are more unfavorable to the musician than the earlier conditions, for all this talk in a hundred papers brings also much good with it, which would not otherwise be so easy to attain;—but simply the thinking and creative artist must not allow himself to be misled by it, and must go his own gait quietly and undisturbed, as they say the hippopotamus does, in spite of all the arrows which rebound from his thick skin. An original thinker says, “As one emblem and coat of arms I show a tree violently blown by the storm, which nevertheless shows its red fruit on all the boughs, with the motto, Dum convellor mitescunt; or also, Conquassatus sed ferax.”
When you have an opportunity I beg you to give my best thanks to my old friend Lowy for the letter he wrote me directly after the performance of the “Preludes.” I know that he means well towards me, in his own way, which, unfortunately, cannot be mine, because, to me, friendship without heart and flame is something foreign; and I cannot understand, for instance, why at the concert in question he did not take his customary place, but kept back in a corner, as he tells me. Pray when have I given him any occasion to be ashamed of me? Do I not then stand up in the whole world of Art as an honest fellow, who, faithful to his conviction, despising all base means and hypocritical stratagems, strives valiantly and honorably after a high aim? Given that I, deceived by my many-sided experiences (which really cannot be estimated as very slight, since I have lived and worked through the periods—so important for music—of Beethoven, Schubert, Mendelssohn, as well as Rossini and Meyerbeer), led astray by my seven years’ unceasing labour, have hit upon the wrong road altogether, would it be the place of my intimate friend, in the face of the opposition which is set up against me because I bring something new, to blush, hide himself in a corner, and deny me? You did otherwise and better in this, dearest Eduard, and your conduct with Castelli was, as ever, perfectly right. My few friends may take a good example from you, for they assuredly need not let themselves be frightened by the concert which the bullies and boobies raise against my things. I have, as usual, thought over your musical remarks and reflections. The fourth movement of the Concerto, [No. I, in E flat major.] from the Allegro marziale,
[a score appears here]
corresponds with the second movement, Adagio:—
[a score appears here]
It is only an urgent recapitulation of the earlier subject-matter with quickened, livelier rhythm, and contains no new motive, as will be clear to you by a glance through the score. This kind of binding together and rounding off a whole piece at its close is somewhat my own, but it is quite maintained and justified from the standpoint of musical form.
The trombones and basses
[a score appears here]
take up the second part of the motive of the Adagio (B major):—
[a score appears here]The pianoforte figure which follows
[a score appears here]
is no other than the reproduction of the motive which was given in the Adagio by flute and clarinet,
[a score appears here]
just as the concluding passage is a Variante [various reading] and working up in the major of the motive of the Scherzo,
[a score appears here]
until finally the first motive
[a score appears here]
on the dominant pedal B flat, with a shake accompaniment,
[a score appears here]
comes in and concludes the whole.
The Scherzo in E flat minor, from the point where the triangle begins, I employed for the effect of contrast.
[a score appears here] As regards the triangle I do not deny that it may give offence, especially if struck too strong and not precisely. A preconceived disinclination and objection to instruments of percussion prevails, somewhat justified by the frequent misuse of them. And few conductors are circumspect enough to bring out the rhythmic element in them, without the raw addition of a coarse noisiness, in works in which they are deliberately employed according to the intention of the composer. The dynamic and rhythmic spicing and enhancement, which are effected by the instruments of percussion, would in more cases be much more effectually produced by the careful trying and proportioning of insertions and additions of that kind. But musicians who wish to appear serious and solid prefer to treat the instruments of percussion en canaille, which must not make their appearance in the seemly company of the Symphony. They also bitterly deplore, inwardly, that Beethoven allowed himself to be seduced into using the big drum and triangle in the Finale of the Ninth Symphony. Of Berlioz, Wagner, and my humble self, it is no wonder that “like draws to like,” and, as we are treated as impotent canaille amongst musicians, it is quite natural that we should be on good terms with the canaille among the instruments. Certainly here, as in all else, it is the right thing to seize upon and hold fast [the] mass of harmony. In face of the most wise proscription of the learned critics I shall, however, continue to employ instruments of percussion, and think I shall yet win for them some effects little known.
I hear from Paris that at all the street corners there they are selling a little pamphlet for a sou entitled “Le seul moyen de ne pas mourir le 13 Juin a 1’apparition de la Comete.” [“The only means how not to die on the 13th of June at the appearance of the comet.”] The only means is to drown oneself on the 12th of June. Much of the good advice which is given to me by the critics is very like this seul moyen. Yet we will not drown ourselves—not even in the lukewarm waters of criticism—and will also for the future stand firm on our own legs with a good conscience.
I had still much more to say to you, but the letter has become so long that I should not like to take up any more of your time. It is to be hoped that we shall see each other in the course of this summer, when we shall be able again to talk over everything to our hearts’ content. Meanwhile I thank you again warmly for your friendship, and remain yours from my heart.
F. Liszt
What you tell me of your idea for Daniel [Liszt’s son] is very agreeable and soothing. I must beg the Princess to correspond with you in reference to the matter. My decision to send D. to Vienna, in order to finish his law there, and to entrust him to your protection, is pretty much unchanged.
Weymar, March 26th, 1857
In the next number of Brendel’s paper appears a long letter from R. Wagner on my individuality as a composer, which will be of interest to you.
181. To Georg Schariezer, Vice-President of the Church Musical Society at the St. Martin’s Coronation Church in Pressburg
[From a copy of Herr Stadthauptmann Johann Batka in Pressburg.— The Church Musical Society, which has been in existence since 1833, and which undertakes the performance of classical instrumental Masses during the service every Sunday and saint’s day, performed Beethoven’s Grand Mass as early as 1835, and many times since, and has given Liszt’s Gran Mass every year since 1872.]
Dear Sir,
The friendly intention of the highly renowned Pressburg Kirchenmusikverein [Church Musical Society] to give a performance of my “Missa Solemnis” is an uncommon pleasure to me, and I send Your Honor my special thanks for the kind letter with which you have honored me in the name of the Kirchenmusikverein. Much as I should like to meet your wishes without any ceremony, and to send you the score and parts at once, yet I am constrained to beg for a long delay, for the reason that the score, together with the pianoforte arrangement, is obliged to remain for some months longer in the Royal State Printing House in Vienna, and I cannot get the parts copied out afresh until the publication of the work next September. The copies which were used at Gran and Prague have been lost, and several essential alterations which I have finally made in the score necessitate the making of an entirely new copy.
I hope, however, that you, dear sir, as well as the K.-M.-V, will continue your kind intention towards me, whereby I may have the prospect of my Mass being performed by you later on. If I am not quite mistaken, the Church element, as well as the musical style of this work, will be better understood and more spiritually felt after frequent performances than can be the case at first in the face of the prevailing prejudice against my later compositions, and the systematic opposition of routine and custom which I have to meet with on so many sides. Thus much I may in all conscientiousness affirm, that I composed the work, from the first bar to the last, with the deepest ardor as a Catholic and the utmost care as a musician, and hence I can leave it with perfect comfort to time to form a corresponding verdict upon it.
As soon as the score comes out I shall have the pleasure of sending Your Honor a copy; and should your present design perhaps come to pass in the spring, I shall be delighted to be present at the performance, and to conduct the final rehearsals myself.
Accept, dear sir, my best thanks, together with the expression of my high esteem.
Yours most truly,
Franz Liszt
Weymar, April 25th, 1857