Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN \ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 
 . 
 
 If3 B3 
 
 I
 
 ■■ total- :.
 
 
 SIR CHAELES HALLE
 
 
 ^ 
 
 A^&, 
 
 L 8 9 O
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 BEING AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY {1819-1860) WITH 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE AND DIARIES 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 HIS SON, C. E. HALLE 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS DAUGHTER, MARIE HALLE 
 
 WITH TWO PORTRAITS 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATEELOO PLACE 
 
 1896 
 
 [All rights i •
 
 ML 
 
 13^ 
 
 NOTE 
 
 In the task of preparing this autobiography of my 
 Father for publication, and in the selection, arrange- 
 ment, and revision of the letters and diaries which 
 form the remainder of the volume, my Sister and I 
 are greatly indebted to the valuable and sympathetic 
 assistance of Mr. Charles L. Graves. 
 
 C. E. Halle. 
 
 :4
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 l U A ITER I 
 Early Years: Hagen, Darmstadt, and Paris: 1819-1888 . 1 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 Life in Paris: 1838 1848 . 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 Life and Labours in Manchester and London : 1848-186G . lol 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Postscript: 1865 1895. By C. E. Hallk 141 
 
 Letters 1S2 
 
 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 (1) Manchester, &c. : 1855 6 353 
 
 (2) Australia: 1890 367 
 
 (3) South Africa: 1895 396 
 
 APPENDICES 
 
 (1) A German Critic on Mr. Charles Halle in 1841 . . 405 
 
 (2) List of Works Performed at Sir Charles Halle's 
 
 Manchester Concerts: 1858 1895 407 
 
 INDEX 127 
 
 [ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Portrait prom a Photograph n\ Walery, 1890 . FronUsj 
 Portrait aftf.r an Oil-painting by Victor Mottez, 
 
 1850 . TofacepagellG
 
 LIFE AND LETTEES 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 1819-1838 
 
 Birth and parentage — Early delicacy — A musical atmosphere —Accom- 
 panist at the Hagen ' Gesang-Verein ' — A youthful kettle-drummer — 
 Early appearances as a pianist — My father's siicrifice — Piano-playing 
 in the dark — My sense of absolute pitch — Early acquaintance with 
 classical chamber music — My test of good music — Visits to Arolsen 
 and Cassel — Spohr's kindness — My first concert at Cassel — I learn 
 the organ— First appearance as an orchestral conductor — My 
 ' alter ego : ' Cornelius Fliiss — Playing at Indians — Astronomical 
 studies — Childish beliefs : a painful disillusionment — Summer excur- 
 sions — The Prince of IIohen-Limburg — Police and night watchmen — 
 New Year festivities — A romantic postman — The servant girl's 
 arithmetic — I repair to Darmstadt — llinck and his methods of teach- 
 ing—Gottfried Weber — Orchestral music at Darmstadt — Journey to 
 Paris— My visit to Kalkbrenner— First meeting with Chopin : his 
 wonderful playing and artistic isolation — Chopin's last concerts — 
 Liszt, his genius and peeidiarities — Thalberg, his style and the secret 
 of his popularity— Other Parisian acquaintances — My stance* at M. 
 (iuibert's — Evenings at the Conservatoire with Cherubim: his caustic 
 sayings. 
 
 I was born on April 11, 1819, at the moment 
 when the church bells began to ring in Easter Morn, 
 as my dear mother often told me in after years. 
 Curiously enough, Easter Sunday fell every eleven 
 
 B
 
 2 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES IIALL15 
 
 years on April 11 until I was fifty-live years old, 
 but will not do so again during my lifetime. Hagen, 
 in Westphalia, where I saw the light, was then a 
 little town with from 4,000 to 5,000 inhabitants. 
 My father, Frederick Halle, originally from Arolsen, 
 in the principality of Waldeck, was organist of the 
 principal church, and ' musik director,' which means 
 that he conducted the concerts, for, although the 
 town was so small, there were concert societies there 
 of no little importance. My father, besides, gave 
 innumerable lessons in singing, as well as on almost 
 every instrument. He had a charming tenor voice, 
 and was a first-rate performer on the piano, the 
 organ, the violin, and the flute. His activity was not 
 restricted to Hagen alone, for when concerts were 
 given in neighbouring towns, such as Iserlohn, 
 Limburg, Dortmund, Schwelm, and others, he was 
 generally invited to conduct them ; and was known 
 far and wide as a remarkable wit, many of his clever 
 sayings being quoted for years. He was handsome, 
 most winning in appearance, and nothing could equal 
 the enthusiasm with which he cultivated his art, to 
 which I owe the love, the adoration of music which 
 has never left me during my long life. My dear 
 mother, Caroline Halle, nee Brenschedt, came of an 
 old Westphalian family. She was, when I could 
 begin to appreciate her, one of the sweetest of God's 
 children, and continued to be beloved by all who 
 knew her until her death at the ripe age of eighty-eight 
 years. She also was a good musician, though not a 
 professional one, and sang most charmingly with a
 
 EARLY DELICACY 3 
 
 sweet soprano voice. Often was I lulled to sleep, 
 when a baby, by the duet-singing of my parents, but 
 many years must have passed before I could under- 
 stand the merit and beauty of it. I remained for 
 upwards of eight years their only child, and feel sure 
 that it has been given to few men or women to 
 recollect so happy a childhood as mine was. 
 
 But this childhood had its troubles, although they 
 were little felt by me. I have only learned in later 
 years that my babyhood was most precarious — that 
 I was a miserably weak child, and nobody, not even 
 the doctor, thought I could live long. Although not 
 actually ailing, I had to be brought up like a hot- 
 house plant, was seldom taken into the open air, 
 which at the period I speak of was mostly considered 
 dangerous, and hardly ever admitted into a sick- 
 room ; and if I have outgrown that weakness, and 
 falsified the prognostics of the doctor, I owe it 
 probably to the tender care of a most loving 
 mother. Through being kept constantly indoors, my 
 life became different from that of other children ; 
 there was no romping for me in the playground or 
 the garden, and my mother had to find occupation 
 for me in the house. She first taught me to read 
 when I was but three years old, and at the age of 
 four I read as fluently as ever since. Together with 
 the alphabet she taught me my notes, to amuse me, 
 and as a natural consequence of the musical atmo- 
 sphere in which we lived. Well do I remember a 
 square book, bound in red morocco and containing 
 music paper, in which she had written the notes
 
 4 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 with their names, and which altogether bore testi- 
 mony to my progress, for all the little exercises 
 and small pieces which I had to learn were 
 written in this book, first by her, then by my father, 
 when she handed me over to him. At that time 
 it was most unusual to teach from a printed ' Piano- 
 forte School ' ; the music master was expected in the 
 case of beginners to compose exercises and short 
 pieces during the lesson, and write them down in a 
 book kept for that purpose by the pupil. Such 
 was my book, which I treasured for forty years, 
 until it was lost with my other luggage on a railway 
 journey through Belgium. I have been told many a 
 time by my parent teachers that I took to music with 
 extraordinary eagerness, that it became my only joy, 
 and that my progress was remarkably rapid. It 
 must have been so, for the above-mentioned red book 
 testified that at four years of age I played a little 
 sonata, composed for me by my father, at one of the 
 subscription concerts of the ' Concordia ' Society. 
 
 About that time my constitution had become a 
 little stronger, and my parents had hopes that I 
 might live a few years longer. I was, therefore, less 
 confined to the house, and now and then taken to a 
 concert, which explains my appearance there as a 
 most precocious soloist. To be taken to a concert, 
 to listen to a symphony or an overture, was at that 
 early age my greatest joy, and I may say that I grew 
 up in music, and thought and dreamt of nothing else. 
 And well was the life in Hagen calculated to foster 
 this taste, for music seemed to be its chief occupation,
 
 A .MUSICAL ATMOSPHERE 5 
 
 just as it was in all the surrounding small towns with 
 which I became acquainted in my boyhood. The 
 number of good amateurs on various instruments 
 was great ; every house resounded with music ; 
 about ten subscription concerts were given every 
 winter by the ' Concordia ' Society, the orchestra of 
 which consisted of professionals and amateurs, about 
 forty in number, and was conducted by my father. 
 There was also a ' Gesang-Yerein,' which met once a 
 week the whole year through, with the exception 
 of two summer months, and of which my father 
 had also the direction. With the help of this 
 society a few concerts were given in the summer 
 for the performance of some oratorios, a kind of 
 small festival to which the public flocked from all 
 the neighbouring towns. To these societies I owe 
 my earliest acquaintance with most of the works of 
 the greatest composers ; for my progress upon the 
 piano had been so rapid that when I was still a child 
 my father made me accompany at the meetings of 
 the ' Gesano'-Yerein' instead of doino; it himself. 
 Thus I became thoroughly familiar with ' The Crea- 
 tion,' ' The Seasons,' ' The Mount of Olives,' some of 
 Handel's and of Spohr's oratorios, with numer- 
 ous other works, at an age when they generally are 
 but names to other children. My functions at the 
 subscription concerts were of a different nature. I 
 had taught myself the violin up to a certain degree, 
 in the hope of being enrolled as an amateur second 
 violin, but it so happened that the gentleman who 
 played the kettle-drums left the town, and I, although
 
 6 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 seven years old, was considered so good a time- 
 keeper that my father promoted me to that important 
 and dangerous post. And for eight years did I hold 
 it, though not altogether to my credit ; for although 
 I found no difficulty in coming in at the right time, 
 perhaps on the third beat after fifty-seven bars' rest, 
 I could never accomplish a satisfactory roll, hard as 
 I laboured at it. The kettle-drum is not exactly an 
 instrument suited to a drawing-room, so I could get 
 no practice, and I remember even now how I envied 
 and admired the drummers of any military band that 
 passed through our town, recognising them by far 
 my superiors. 
 
 My efforts at these concerts were, however, not 
 confined to the drums. Having once played a little 
 solo on the piano at the age of four, my kind friends, 
 — and I believe the whole town consisted of them — 
 wanted to judge every year of my progress, and I 
 had, therefore, to play at least once every season 
 gradually more and more important pieces. One of 
 these appearances has left a lasting impression upon 
 my mind. I was then eight years old, and played 
 the variations by Ferdinand Eies on ' Am Ehein, am 
 Ehein, da wachsen uns're Eeben,' a stock piece at 
 that time of a very brilliant character. Before the 
 end of the piece, which I did not play from memory, 
 I had to stop and tell my father that I could not see 
 any more ; there was a veil before my eyes. Our 
 own doctor, who was one of the audience, came at 
 once to look at me, and pronounced that I had the 
 measles, a malady much dreaded at that time. So,
 
 MY FATHER'S SACRIFICE 7 
 
 instead of finishing the variations, I was carefully 
 wrapped up, and carried home in my father's arm-. 
 I was long ill and confined to a room, the temperature 
 of which was kept at summer heat, the fire never 
 being allowed to go out. I was watched every night 
 alternately by my father and my mother, and it so 
 happened that one night when it was my father's 
 turn, he had been overcome with fatigue and fallen 
 asleep, and lo ! when he awoke, the fire had burnt 
 out. In his anxiety to light it again, there being no 
 real firewood at hand, and the servant sleeping in 
 another storey, he broke up his beloved flute, a yellow 
 one, I remember — upon which I had heard him play 
 many a solo by Tulau and other great flautists. The 
 fire was relit, and he never regretted, or even alluded 
 to, the sacrifice which his paternal love had induced 
 him to make ; but I cried bitterly over it when it 
 came to my knowledge. 
 
 In course of time I was cured of the measles, but 
 they left a very serious inflammation of the eyes, in 
 consequence of which I was shut up for weeks in a dark 
 room. There was a piano in it, and as soon as I felt 
 strong enough I began to practise all my pieces from 
 memory in the dark, having to feel for the keyboard, 
 for there was not the slightest glimmer of light. I 
 still remember how amused I was with certain varia- 
 tions by Abbe Gelinck (a very popular composer 
 then, but now totally forgotten), in which there were 
 many rapid crossings of the hands, and how delighted 
 I was when at last I could judge of the distances so 
 as to hit the right notes. Illness forced me to try
 
 8 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 this experiment, but I should recommend it to many 
 young players in good health, for it certainly im- 
 proves the knowledge of the keyboard. After this 
 temporary but severe illness music became again the 
 all- absorbing interest of my young life, and by acci- 
 dent I save evidence of having a good ear. Eeturn- 
 
 <— ' c CD 
 
 ing one day from a visit to a great-uncle who lived 
 in the same town, and touching our piano, I said to 
 my father that the pitch of my uncle's piano was a 
 quarter of a tone lower than that of ours, and verifi- 
 cation proved me to be correct, to the evident satis- 
 faction of my parents. At the same time it became 
 an amusement to them and to their friends to put me 
 in a corner of the room, strike several notes together, 
 sometimes the most incongruous and discordant ones, 
 and make me name them, from the lowest upwards, 
 which I invariably accomplished. This faculty has 
 proved to have one drawback — viz. that the pitch of 
 that period, a good half-tone lower than the present 
 one, has remained so impressed on my brain, that 
 when I now hear a piece of music for the first time, 
 it seems to me in a higher key than it really is 
 written in ; I hear it in C when it is in B, and have 
 to translate it, so to say. My friend Joachim shares 
 this peculiarity with me, and it is now and then very 
 perplexing. 
 
 At that time, when I was eight years old, school 
 life had necessarily begun for me — for though far 
 from robust, I was then in perfect health — and con- 
 tinued till the year 1835, when I had worked myself 
 up to the second place in the highest class. But all
 
 CLASSICAL CHAMBER MUSIC [) 
 
 my free hours were devoted to music, sometimes even 
 those that ought not to have been free. The weekly 
 meetings of the ' Gesang-Verein ' made me familiar 
 with all the best choral works; the practice for the 
 subscription concerts, with orchestral works, while 
 my father had many quartet parties at our house, 
 when I was allowed to turn the leaves, and made my 
 first acquaintance with Haydn's quartets. Then my 
 father often played with me pianoforte duets, the 
 sonatas of Mozart, and arrangements of the sym- 
 phonies by the great masters; also duets for piano 
 and violin, as he was an excellent violinist, and my 
 love for Mozart and Beethoven's violin sonatas dates 
 from that early time. We also played trios with a 
 friend of our family, Herr Elbers, a wealthy iron- 
 merchant, a remarkable bass singer and good violon- 
 cellist, and how I enjoyed Beethoven's wonderful 
 trio in B flat I cannot find words to express, nor can 
 I describe the enthusiasm with which my father 
 exclaimed: ' The whole of Beethoven is to be found in 
 the Scherzo ! ' I must have played this trio before 
 the year 1827, although I was only seven years old, 
 for when I heard of Beethoven's death it seemed to me 
 as if a god had departed, and I shed bitter tears. In 
 addition to these musical experiences Herr Elbers 
 invited me to spend one evening each week at his 
 house for the sake of playing violoncello duets with 
 him, and for many years these meetings were con- 
 tinued. They were a great pleasure to me, not the 
 least part of the enjoyment consisting in the excellent 
 supper which followed our musical exertions. He
 
 10 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 was an enthusiastic amateur, and I fully believe that 
 we played every piano and violoncello duet, good, 
 bad, or indifferent, composed up to that time. The 
 five sonatas by Beethoven were repeated innumerable 
 times and always with the same zest, but those by 
 Hummel, Ferdinand Eies, even Eeissiger and others 
 were not neglected. 
 
 In this manner my store of knowledge increased 
 constantly. Music, heard by my inner ear, accom- 
 panied me at all times and during all my walks, and I 
 created for myself a singular test by which to know 
 if a piece of music was beautiful or not. There was 
 a spot, a bench under a tree by the side of a very 
 small water-fall, where I loved to sit and ' think 
 music' Then, going in my mind through a piece 
 of music such as Beethoven's ' Adelaide,' or the 
 Cavatina from ' Der Freyschlitz,' I could imagine 
 that I heard it in the air surrounding me, that the 
 whole of nature sang it, and then I knew that it was 
 beautiful. Many pieces would not stand that test, 
 however hard I tried, and those I rejected as indif- 
 ferent. 
 
 During my childhood my father took his family 
 every summer to his native town, Arolsen, on a visit 
 to his elder brother, who inhabited the house in which 
 he had been born. These visits were a delight to me, 
 fond as I already was of travelling, and I looked for- 
 ward to them for many months previous. The mode 
 of travelling differed greatly from our present one, 
 but was all the more enjoyable, especially to a young 
 and impressionable mind. The journey would nowa-
 
 SPOHR'S KINDNESS 11 
 
 days occupy about four hours, but at that time a 
 sort of ' Vetturino,' called Hauderer in German, was 
 sent from Arolsen to fetch us, and the two amiable 
 horses, driven by a coachman bearing the poetical, 
 almost Wagnerian name of Friedewald, accomplished 
 the distance in two days. On one of tlie.se visits, in 
 August 18^8, my father took me to Cassel, a drive of 
 about four hours, in order to pay his respects to 
 Spohr, who was then ' Kapellmeister ' there, and at 
 the same time to get his opinion as to my musical 
 abilities. Spohr was at that time at the height of his 
 reputation, not only as a violinist but as a composer. 
 From our weekly practices at Ilagen I knew his 
 oratorios by heart, knew his concertos by having 
 heard my father play them, and had been fascinated 
 by his luscious melodies and wonderfully sweet har- 
 monies and modulations. He was therefore one of 
 my demi-gods, only a few degrees lower in my esti- 
 mation than Beethoven, Mozart, and Haydn, with 
 which revered names I always associated his. My 
 excitement during the few minutes we had to wait 
 for his appearance in his drawing-room was intense, 
 and when his huge figure, looking twice its size 
 through wearing a loose dressing-own reaching to 
 his feet, entered, I was awe-struck. He received us 
 most kindly, and when I had quite recovered my 
 breath he made me play to him, the result of which 
 was that he insisted upon my giving a concert in 
 Cassel, he himself undertaking all the arrangements, 
 enrolling vocalists from the operatic troupe, actually 
 two of the most celebrated sinsers of the time, the
 
 12 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 soprano, Mile. Heinefetter, and the tenor, Wild. The 
 concert took place in the first days of September, 
 and created much interest, musical prodigies (I was 
 nine years old) being then not so plentiful as they 
 have since become. Of the programme, or rather 
 my part in it, I ought to feel ashamed, for, in accord- 
 ance with the fashion of the hour, it consisted of 
 variations by Henri Herz and by Eies, but also, I am 
 glad to add, of a rondo by Hummel, which, I hope, 
 was more to my taste. As an executive display by 
 a child it was much commended in the papers, some 
 of which are still in my possession, and Spohr himself 
 was pleased, so much so that, when I met him again 
 after a lapse of more than twenty years, he began 
 at once to speak of this concert, which I thought 
 long forgotten. 
 
 I have dwelt upon this, my really first appearance 
 before the public (for the concerts at Hagen were 
 family affairs), at some length, because it was my 
 only one during my childhood ; my fond father, 
 jubilant as he was at my success, saying to me on 
 returning from the concert, ' My dear boy, once, and 
 never again ! ' a resolve which he kept, and for which 
 in later years I have felt profoundly grateful. The 
 temptation to exploit me must have been very great, 
 for we were not in affluent circumstances ; but, 
 although healthy then, I was far from strong, and it 
 is doubtful if I could have stood the wear and tear 
 of the life of a musical prodigy, which consideration 
 must have weighed heavily with him ; and it is 
 certain that my studies would have been arrested,
 
 I LEARN THE ORGAN 13 
 
 my knowledge of music, instead of progressing, 
 
 would have remained stationary for years, and my 
 youthful enthusiasm for music might have been 
 jeopardised. 
 
 After our return to Hagen from this momentous 
 excursion, I plunged with renewed zest into my 
 daily musical studies, and in addition to the piano 
 and the violin began to play the organ. My father 
 was organist at the principal church, and I had long 
 been accustomed to accompany him every Sunday, 
 and sit with him in the organ loft, watching his 
 manipulation of the pedals and listening with delighl 
 to his improvisations. I now asked him, timidly at 
 first, to allow me to replace him when simple chorales 
 had to be accompanied. He granted this, sitting by 
 my side to guard against any blunders which might 
 have disturbed the congregation. I soon gained 
 confidence, and after a few months I could often go 
 alone to the church, and with the consent of the 
 clergy replace him altogether. It was the custom 
 then, and still may be, to accompany the Holy Com- 
 munion by soft and appropriate music, always im- 
 provised, for, according to the varied number of 
 communicants, it had to be of longer or shorter 
 duration, and I well remember those minutes, and 
 how hard I tried to make my improvisation impres- 
 sive. It was a new branch of music that opened 
 itself to me, to which I took most eagerly, and which 
 gave me many new joys. At the same time my 
 father presented me with Gottfried Weber's treatise 
 of harmony and conrposition, one of the very best
 
 14 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 books on the subject ever written, which I devoured 
 with eagerness. For years I studied it diligently, 
 and derived from it, not only great benefit, but also 
 an inestimable amount of the purest pleasure. 
 
 There remains nothing to tell of my childhood 
 except one incident, characteristic of the unconscious 
 daring of a boy who does not appreciate the difficul- 
 ties with which he has to contend. Hagen was 
 visited every season by a travelling troupe of singers 
 and actors, who during two months gave performances 
 of operas, dramas, and comedies in the large ball- 
 room of the principal hotel, where a stage was 
 erected, there being no regular theatre in the town. 
 About a month previous to their visit the director, 
 Herr Conradi, came to form the orchestra by inviting 
 all the best amateurs to take part in it along with a 
 few professional players, and asking my father to 
 conduct the performances, without any remuneration 
 of course. The love of music was so great that he 
 never met with a refusal, and my own progress upon 
 the violin having been declared sufficient, I was en- 
 rolled as a second violin. Those were fete days for 
 me, and I became intimately acquainted with many 
 of the best operas by taking an active part in them. 
 On one of these visits, when I was eleven years old, it 
 chanced that after the first few weeks my father fell 
 ill, thus threatening to bring the performances to a 
 premature end. Herr Conradi was in despair, seeing 
 which I, with a boy's confidence, offered to replace 
 my father, was entrusted with the baton, and remained 
 at the conductor's desk to the end of the season.
 
 AX ORCHESTRAL CONDUCTOR 15 
 
 Among the operas "which I conducted were 'Die 
 Zauberflote,' 'Der Freyschiitz,' 'Die Schweitzer 
 Famine' (by Weigl, forgotten now), 'Preciosa,' 
 ' Zampa,' ' Fra Diavolo,' 'Die Stumme von Portici' 
 (' Masaniello '), ' Maurer und Schlosser ' (by Auber), 
 and others, and it will easily be believed that I felt 
 liny importance, and was not a little proud of it. 
 Nervousness I never felt, but sometimes I cried whilst 
 conducting, when the scenes were very affecting, or 
 when I was deeply moved by the beauty of the music. 
 My acquaintance with an orchestra at so early an 
 age and under such circumstances has not been with- 
 out advantages to me in later years. The remem- 
 brance of these performances, the first I ever wit- 
 nessed, is still very vivid; I enjoyed them thoroughly, 
 and admired even the mise-en-scbie, which, of course, 
 was of the most simple and primitive kind. Once 
 the performance of ' Don Giovanni ' was enlivened by 
 an amusing incident. In the first act, when the Com- 
 mendatore steps out of his house to chastise Don 
 Giovanni, and gets killed for his pains, instead of 
 being accompanied by servants with torches, he only 
 carried a candle which he let fall when drawing his 
 sword. This unfortunate candle kept burning on the 
 ground in dangerous proximity to the side scenes, 
 but nobody perceived it except the dead Commenda- 
 tore who, being the director of the company and pro- 
 prietor of all the scenery, &c, tried in his anxiety by 
 grunts and whispers to draw the attention of some- 
 body to the impending danger, and not succeeding, 
 deliberately sat up, put the candle out with a wetted
 
 16 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 finger, and lay down again, dead as before. I did 
 not conduct that night, fortunately, for I am afraid 
 I should never have recovered my gravity sufficiently 
 to bring that act to its conclusion. 
 
 Few concert-givers visited our town, which offered 
 but small inducements to them; my opportunities for 
 fretting acquainted with the outside musical world 
 were therefore very restricted. I remember, how- 
 ever, the visits of two talented French children of 
 little more than my own age, Louis Lacombe and his 
 sister, both pupils of the Conservatoire, and very 
 clever pianists. The remarkable finish of their 
 execution impressed me greatly, and never did I 
 practise so diligently as after hearing them. Louis 
 Lacombe in after years made his mark in France 
 both as a pianist and composer, but I never met him 
 again, although as boys we were very intimate. The 
 neighbourhood of Hagen, especially Elberfeld, a 
 flourishing town, was more favoured, and my father 
 went there on one occasion to hear Paganini, about 
 whom he raved for many months afterwards. Madame 
 Catalani, the most celebrated singer of the time, also 
 gave a concert there, which I remember from a de- 
 scription of her powers given to us by a non-musical 
 friend who had made the journey from curiosity to 
 hear her, and on his return, full of the most extra- 
 ordinary enthusiasm, told my father : ' in one air she 
 sang higher and higher, and when she could not get 
 any higher, she still sang a little higher, and there 
 she did a roll ! ' (meaning she made a shake). 
 
 So, until the age of fifteen, I continued this most
 
 .MY 'ALTER EGO ' 17 
 
 happy life at home, steeped in music, my all-absorbino- 
 passion. Many happy hours I spent in putting the 
 quartets by Haydn and Mozart, and some of the 
 latter's concertos, into scores (full scores being then 
 seldom attainable), gaining thus an insight into the 
 working of the great masters I could not otherwise 
 have obtained. My public appearances at the 
 * Concordia ' concerts continued annually, and became 
 gradually more important. The A minor and A flat 
 concertos by Hummel, the E flat and C sharp minor 
 concertos by Ferdinand Hies, the D minor concerto 
 by Kalkbrenner, the C minor concerto by John Field, 
 are some of those which I recollect having performed, 
 as well as hosts of smaller pieces. Now and then I 
 was allowed to play in one of the neighbouring small 
 towns, but on the whole my father was against these 
 exhibitions, for which, with great justice, he did not 
 consider me ripe. He felt that it was now time to 
 send me to some great masters for further stud}- in 
 harmony and the piano, and after long debate it was 
 decided that I should first go to Darmstadt to study 
 counterpoint with Einck, the celebrated organist, 
 and then to Paris in order to take lessons from 
 Kalkbrenner. 
 
 So the chapter of my childhood was closed ; a 
 childhood so happy that even now it stands vividly 
 before my eyes, and the recollection of its manifold 
 enjoyments is one of my greatest pleasures. It was 
 made still brighter by one of those friendships which, 
 contracted in earliest youth, endure through life. 
 The son of a schoolmaster, our nearest neighbour, one 
 
 c
 
 18 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 day older than myself, was my constant companion, 
 and never can there have been a greater similarity of 
 character, of taste, than between Cornelius Fliiss and 
 myself. We shared every joy, every grief, and, I 
 may say, every dream. For we were dreamers both, 
 as was manifested in many ways. Thus, when we 
 were eleven years old, and got hold of Fenimore 
 Cooper's exciting novel, ' The Last of the Mohicans/ 
 our imaginations were at once filled with a longing for 
 wood-life, for wild adventure, and we plunged into a 
 dense wood which crowned one of the hills near 
 Hagen, sought out the most retired spot, forcing our 
 way through brushwood, and there determined to 
 build us a hut where we could play at Indians and 
 think ourselves far away from any human beings. 
 By cutting saplings and clearing a small piece of 
 "round, we managed to construct a tiny hut, just 
 lar^e enough to creep into, covered it with branches 
 and leaves, and there we often lay for hours, dream- 
 ing all kinds of dreams. It had been the work of 
 weeks, for only spare hours could be devoted to it, 
 but when completed we were not satisfied but must 
 needs make a little ditch all around it with what 
 implements we could stealthily bring to the spot, and 
 then raise a tiny wall round our dwelling, which 
 assumed the aspect of a miniature fortress, into which 
 we retired with a most delicious feeling of isolation 
 and safety from intruders, even though they were ever 
 so many wild Indians. For two summers our hut was 
 our joy and our secret, until one day we found it 
 destroyed and an angry note put up by the proprietor
 
 CHILDISH BEL 1 1 I - 19 
 
 of the wood to the effect that trespassers would be 
 prosecuted and dealt with according to the utmost 
 rigour of the law. So the stern reality shattered our 
 dreams and taught us that God's nature was not free 
 for boys to use, as we had fondly believed. 
 
 Another of our pleasures was to go out in the 
 evening with a lantern to study the stars and the con- 
 stellations ; we did not, however, look at the skies 1 1 v 
 means of the lantern, but it enabled us to read the 
 map, and in time we became great astronomers. 
 Music was a further bond between us ; his apprecia- 
 tion of the art being most keen, and his knowledge of 
 its literature extensive. Cornelius in later years 
 became one of the teachers at the ' Hoch-Schule ' in 
 Hagen, and remained my trusted friend till his death 
 a few years ago, which seemed to deprive me anew of 
 part of my beloved childhood. The world has 
 changed so entirely during the last seventy years that 
 children of the present day are no longer like the 
 children of that past time. Where is the child to be 
 found now that up to the age of eight or nine years 
 will hold the firm belief that the gifts on Christmas 
 morn are brought by an angel from heaven — ' Christ- 
 kindchen ' in our homely German ? Such was un- 
 belief, and that of all the children of my age. On 
 Christmas Eve there stood the large empty table 
 decked with white linen, in the drawing-room, ready 
 to receive the gifts, and who could describe the feel- 
 ings of confiding awe with which I knelt before the 
 open window, praying the good angel to bring me 
 nice gifts, and looking up to the stars wonderinsrlv,
 
 20 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 and half afraid of seeing him descend ? Then came 
 the night, full of expectation, retarding sleep until 
 very late, from which I was aroused at seven o'clock 
 by my mother with the joyful words : ' Christ- 
 kindchen ist hier gewesen ' (Christ-child has been 
 here). And lo ! there stood the Christmas-tree, with 
 its hundred tiny wax lights, its golden nuts and 
 apples, in the middle of the table, covered now with 
 toys and other small gifts, amongst which I always 
 found a new piece of music, generally coveted long 
 before. It was a happy day, and so deep and lasting 
 has been its impression upon me, that wherever, and 
 under whatever circumstances, I have spent Christmas 
 Day, even when alone in Paris, I have had my 
 Christmas-tree, got up by myself in the old fashion, 
 sometimes under considerable difficulties. I was 
 eight years old, I believe, when another boy, a little 
 older than myself, told me that we owed the Christmas 
 gifts to our parents, that they did not come from 
 heaven. This gave me such a shock that I fell with 
 both my fists upon the boy, pommelling him with all 
 my might ; but I got the worst of the battle, almost 
 the only one I fought in my life, and came home cry- 
 ing to ask for confirmation of the dreadful tale. My 
 dear mother had to give it, but did it in such a 
 delicate way that, although I felt the mysterious 
 poetry of that night was gone, my love for my 
 parents was increased. 
 
 The summer in Hagen brought other delights 
 when I was a little older. Placed in a lovely narrow 
 valley on both sides of a small, clear river — the
 
 THE PRINCE OF BOHEN-LIMBURG 21 
 
 Volme — Uagen was surrounded by gardens, rich 
 with fruit trees, strawberries, and other dainties. 
 Through the narrow lanes formed by these gardens, 
 and with the smell of the rich vegetation in our 
 noses, my father walked every summer evening with 
 me by his side, telling me stories of the great com- 
 posers and anecdotes from his own musical life, thus 
 tilling me more and more with love for music. 
 Great was my joy when now and then he took me 
 on a fine afternoon as far as Limburg, a small town 
 with a beautifully situated castle on the top of a hill, 
 the residence of the Prince of Hohen-Limburg. This 
 was a walk of about an hour, mostly through a forest 
 of pine- and beech-wood covering two hills we had 
 to pass. The goal of our promenade was an inn, 
 Herr Polcher's, very primitive, but with a beautiful 
 garden, a good assembly room, which generally, 
 when my father's visit was expected, saw many of his 
 friends assembled around a long table, the reunions 
 being often graced by the presence of the good old 
 prince himself, who was a great lover of music and 
 the other fine arts, and fond of genial society. In 
 spite of the large star that decked his breast, his 
 princely dignity was soon forgotten in the banter of 
 wit in which he good-humouredly joined. I remem- 
 ber one amusing incident, the thought of which pro- 
 vokes my mirth even now. The whole company, 
 prince included, sang in chorus a simple German 
 ditty, ' Der La-la-la-la-Laudon riickt an ' (Laudon ad- 
 vances), repeated innumerably ; the fun consisting in 
 the manner in which the leader (my father) started
 
 22 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 each repeat, which the whole company had to 
 imitate, now giving it out in full stentorian voice, 
 then in a whisper, now in sentimental adagio fashion, 
 then in humorous dance rhythm, now standing, now 
 sitting and turning their faces to the wall, every 
 change being totally unexpected. In one variation 
 my father jumped upon the chair, set one foot upon 
 the table covered with bottles and glasses, a feat 
 which the fat little prince had no slight trouble in 
 imitating, and then the song had to be gone through 
 without an audible sound, with motion of the lips 
 only, the uplifted right hands marking the rhythm. 
 At this moment one of the waiters entered with a 
 fresh supply of bottles and glasses, and was so over- 
 come by the extraordinary spectacle of so many 
 guests having apparently gone suddenly mad that he 
 let the bottles slip, and their crash and the stare on 
 his astonished face changed the mute scene into one 
 of boisterous laughter. After these good-natured 
 follies came the enjoyable walk home through the 
 still moonlight, the metallic notes of the innumerable 
 frogs (' Unke ') forming a concert, which often made 
 our steps linger, and harmonised with my father's 
 talk about music and musicians. Passing through 
 the dark wood I crept close to him, my imagination 
 peopling it with highway robbers, and found a sense 
 of protection and comfort in the touch of his hand 
 and the glow of his long pipe. 
 
 At that time the public force in Hagen consisted 
 of one policeman and one night-watchman ; it was 
 fortunate, therefore, that robbers were not to be
 
 NIGHT WATCHMEN 23 
 
 found in flesh and blood. The night-watchman, with 
 
 his horn and long staff, was an object of mysterious 
 interest to me, a shadowy form, only to be seen once 
 every year, in the night from December olst to 
 January 1st, as I shall relate presently. But every 
 evening I heard the sounds of his horn, blowing once 
 at 10 o'clock, twice at 11, three times at midnight. 
 What he did after that hour, if he added one blow at 
 every hour or went to bed, I have never learnt. I 
 was always happy to feel that some one was watching 
 over me, and felt more comfortable in bed when I 
 heard the horn and the simple ditty which the 
 watchman sang every hour : 
 
 Hort, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen, 
 Die Glocke hat zehn [elf, zwolf] geschlagen : 
 Bewahrt das Feuer und das Licht, 
 Darn.it euch kein Schaden gebricht. 1 
 
 Once in the year, on New Year's night, this per- 
 formance was varied at 12 o'clock midnight. A 
 chorus, principally of children, accompanied the 
 watchman through the streets, and after the three 
 notes of the horn, sang with him this verse : 
 
 Das alte Jahr vergangen ist ; 
 Wir danken dir, Herr Jesu Christ, 
 Dass du uns in so mancher Gefahr 
 So gnadiglich behiitet dies Jahr. 2 
 
 The tune was one of the fine Lutheran chorales, but 
 
 1 ' Listen, people, and take heed. The clock has struck ten [eleven, 
 twelve]. Look well to your fire and light that no harm maj- come to 
 you.' 
 
 - ' The old year is passed away. We thank thee, Lord Jesus Christ, 
 for so mercifully preserving us in so many perils this year.'
 
 24 
 
 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 much embroidered. The first line in the original 
 standing — 
 
 /CS 
 
 was suncr- 
 
 Das 
 
 alte Jahr ver 
 
 gangen ist. 
 
 The effect of the clear children's voices through 
 the stillness of the night being heard faintly in the 
 distance at first and gradually drawing nearer and 
 nearer was overpowering to me, and made all my 
 nerves tingle. I always insisted upon being led to 
 the open window when the small singing crowd 
 passed our house, and then I could admire the 
 watchman with his lantern, look at him with deep- 
 felt gratitude, and envy the children who were 
 allowed to accompany and sing with him. Strange 
 to say my recollection of those emotional nights is 
 always associated with a clear starry sky, and pure 
 white snow covering streets and houses, so that I 
 sometimes wonder if the weather never was bad on 
 December 31 in my early youth. It may have been 
 so, but certainly very seldom, not often enough to 
 tarnish their bright image. It was the custom of my 
 father to sit up with his family into the New Year, 
 drinking our health at the stroke of midnight in a 
 glass of self-brewed punch (a custom which I have 
 religiously preserved up to this day). It was the
 
 A ROMANTIC POSTMAN 25 
 
 one exception to our early bed-going, and it was thus 
 that I got a glimpse of the night-watchman, only to 
 see him again after another year had elapsed. 
 
 As there was but one policeman and one night- 
 watchman in Hagen, so there was also but one letter- 
 carrier, a man beloved by all children on account of 
 his great kindness to them. It was only in much 
 later years, but when I was still a young man, that I 
 heard the singular story of this man, and tried even, 
 but unsuccessfully, to unravel the mystery connected 
 with it. He was born at Aix-la-Chapelle in 1702, 
 his parents being French emigrants ; he was chris- 
 tened there, and his name entered in the register as 
 Louis Chabot. He was confided to a nurse, his 
 parents having to continue their flight, and for years 
 he was amply provided for, until suddenly the supplies 
 were stopped, and no farther tidings were received 
 from his family. He had no means of tracing them, 
 and a life of misery began for him, through which he 
 fought bravely, being at last stranded as the solitary 
 postman at Hagen. The universal belief of all who 
 knew him and his story, a belief fully warranted by 
 the refinement of his manners and the dignity of his 
 aristocratic bearing, was that he belonged to the great 
 French family of the Due de Chabot-Latour. He him- 
 self believed it, and in his humble circumstances lived 
 so that a sudden call to fortune and to an eminent posi- 
 tion would have found him quite fit for the change. 
 The family of Chabot-Latour was approached on his 
 behalf, and on one occasion a gentleman came from 
 Paris to Hagen to inquire into the circumstances, but
 
 26 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 apparently some link in the chain of proof of his iden- 
 tity was missing, and Chabot — perhaps Duke Chabot 
 — died a postman, respected by the whole community. 
 
 One more anecdote about Hagen and I shall leave 
 the dear place. Everybody knows that in Prussia 
 there is a State lottery, and in every town, big or 
 small, there is a collector, appointed to sell the 
 tickets or ' Loose.' To the collector in Hag;en came 
 a servant girl (in service in a family of our acquaint- 
 ance), and asked if she could buy No. 23. He had 
 not got it, but the girl seeming much in earnest, he 
 kindly promised to inquire if any of the collectors in 
 other towns had that particular ticket still to dispose 
 of, and he succeeded. The 'drawing took place some 
 weeks afterwards, and Has-en sfot into a state of 
 feverish excitement when it became known that the 
 girl had won one of the big prizes, representing some 
 thousands of pounds sterling. She became of course 
 the one object of interest in the town, was ' inter- 
 viewed ' constantly, and when asked how she could 
 have fixed upon No. 23, she gave this simple and 
 lucid explanation : ' I dreamt one night No. 7, and a 
 second night I dreamt 7, and a third night 7 again, 
 so I thought 3 times 7 makes 23, and I bought that 
 number ! ' So much for the value of knowledge ! : 
 
 In June, 1835, I left my beloved parents, and my 
 dear native town, and travelled up the Ehine to 
 
 1 The late Mr. Locker-Lampson relates in his Confidences that he 
 heard this story from Mr. Halle — as he then was — and subsequently 
 told it to the late Dean Stanley, whose ignorance of arithmetic was 
 notorious, and that the Dean, unable to see the joke, observed, not with- 
 out a shadow of dejection, ' Ah, yes, I see, yes ; I suppose three times 
 seven is not twenty-three.'
 
 1MXCKS TEACHING 27 
 
 Darmstadt, a two days' journey at that time. Rinck, a 
 somewhat stout and elderly man, with a most benevo- 
 lent countenance, received me most kindly, and helped 
 me soon over the timidity with which I had approached 
 him at first. Einck was one of the most learned 
 musicians in Germany, and his organ compositions, 
 most of which I was familiar with, have remained 
 models of their kind. The very next day we arranged 
 for the beginning of my studies, but I was slightly 
 taken aback when he fixed o'clock in the morning 
 as the hour of my lessons, and wondered also at the 
 remark he made when appointing that early time : 
 ' From five to six I compose ' ; the process of com- 
 posing seeming to me scarcely compatible with fixed 
 hours. But this habit may perhaps account for a 
 certain dryness attached to most of his works. I 
 worked very diligently during the year I remained 
 with him, and apparently to his satisfaction. 
 
 It was, however, fortunate for me that I had 
 studied harmony and counterpoint for years before, 
 otherwise I might have profited little by Einck's 
 teaching. It was his custom, when correcting exer- 
 cises, to say, ' I should have done it so,' never vouch- 
 safing a reason for his corrections ; the pupil, if 
 advanced enough to understand and appreciate the 
 improvement in Einck's version, learned a great deal ; 
 if not, the teaching did not improve his knowledge. 
 Besides working at strict counterpoint with my 
 master, writing canons, fugues, &c, &c., my general 
 musical studies were also largely directed by Gott- 
 fried "VVeber, to whom I had been introduced bv
 
 28 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Einck. Weber, the author of one of the best works 
 on harmony and composition, was not a professional 
 musician, as he held a high position in the law ; but 
 there were few professional musicians who had his 
 knowledge, his judgment, and his love for the art. 
 He was no mean composer himself, having written 
 Masses, cantatas, songs, and other works, and 
 nobody could point out the beauties of the great 
 composers' creations better than he did, or make 
 one feel their power. Many were the works I had 
 the privilege of studying with him, and delightful 
 were the hours spent over them. It was he who 
 made me first love and appreciate Cherubim, one of 
 his favourites, with whose compositions I had, until 
 then, been little acquainted. His mature mind also 
 harboured the same enthusiasm for Beethoven which 
 lived in my youthful soul, and nothing could be more 
 interesting, or more instructive than to hear him 
 analyse some of the master's symphonies. 
 
 It was in Darmstadt also that I first heard a really 
 fine orchestra — powerful and well trained, to which 
 our homely orchestra in Hagen could not be com- 
 pared. The then grand duke was a great lover of 
 music, a musician himself, and under his watchful 
 care Hof kapellmeister Mangold had brought together 
 a band equal to any of the best in Germany. To my 
 great joy I was allowed to attend the rehearsals ; and 
 these were most numerous, taking place almost daily, 
 and apparently merely for the pleasure of the prac- 
 tice. They seemed to be the only occupation of the 
 members of the orchestra; in fact in quiet Darm-
 
 ORCHESTRAL MUSIC AT DARMSTADT 29 
 
 stadt nobody appeared to have anything in particular 
 
 to do, and nothing could exceed the stillness of its 
 vast and regular streets. I remember up to the 
 
 present day the deep impression which Beethoven's 
 Eroica Symphony made upon me, especially the mar- 
 vellous Funeral March. 1 Sitting in a dark corner of 
 the half-lighted theatre (the rehearsals took place on 
 the stage), I was rapt in wonderment and trembling 
 all over. There is in particular a long A flat for 
 the oboe, about thirty-four bars before the close of 
 the march, for which I always waited with perfect 
 awe, and which made my flesh creep. The rehearsals 
 of this one symphony were continued a full month, 
 by the end of which I knew it by heart, not having 
 missed a single one. During that month it was the 
 all-absorbing topic of conversation amongst musicians, 
 and the rehearsals, far from being shunned by the 
 members of the orchestra, as is so often the case, 
 were expected with impatience. 
 
 The studies with liinck and Weber, and the equally 
 important study of the works of the best com- 
 posers, either by hearing them in Darmstadt or in 
 Frankfort or by reading them, made me neglect the 
 piano to a certain extent ; nevertheless I had many 
 opportunities of playing in private circles, and if I 
 did not make any progress as a pianist during the 
 year in Darmstadt, I promised myself to work all the 
 harder in Paris, where the study of the piano would 
 not be interfered with by any tiling, and would be 
 my sole object. 
 
 1 In obedience to his wish, this March was played at my father's 
 funeral.— C E. II.
 
 30 LIFE OF SIR CHArvLES HALLE 
 
 I left Darmstadt and my dear old master with 
 sincere regret in the autumn of 1836, travelling by 
 ' diligence' rid Metzand Chalons, sleeping at each place 
 by order of the doctor, for I was even then not very 
 robust, and such a journey was at that time a formidable 
 undertaking. A great disappointment awaited me 
 after having crossed the French frontier and finding 
 myself in the interior of the huge ' diligence ' with four 
 Frenchmen. At school I had been considered a very 
 fair French scholar, reading and even speaking the 
 lano-uao-e with a certain amount of fluency; great, 
 therefore, was my astonishment when I did not under- 
 stand a word of the conversation of my fellow- 
 travellers, although I was all attention, and I arrived 
 in Paris very crestfallen. It took a long time before 
 my ear got accustomed to the unfamiliar sound, but 
 then my former studies proved of great advantage. 
 I may relate here that when two years later I paid a 
 visit to Hagen and met my old teacher of French he 
 addressed me joyfully in what he believed to be that 
 lano-ua^e, but I no longer understood him, and he left 
 me fully convinced that I had forgotten all he had 
 taught me. 
 
 Arrived in Paris, and settled in a small German 
 hotel in the Eue Vivienne, I began after a few days 
 to deliver the letters of introduction I had brought 
 with me, one of my first visits being to Kalkbrenner. 
 Kalkbrenner and Hummel were at that time con- 
 sidered the greatest pianists, and even Chopin had 
 come to Paris a few years before to learn from Kalk- 
 brenner. I therefore approached him with con-
 
 FIRST MEETING WITH (IIOl'IN 31 
 
 siderable trepidation, and great was my disappoint- 
 ment when he told me that he no longer took pupils. 
 He, however, kindly invited me to play something, 
 to which he listened carefully, and then made some 
 unpleasant remarks and advised me to take lessons 
 from one of his pupils. As I was about to leave him 
 he offered to play for me, saying that it might prove 
 useful to me to hear him. I accepted eagerly and 
 was full of expectation, when he sat down and played 
 a new piece of his composition, entitled ' Le Fou,' 
 one of the most reasonable and dullest pieces ever 
 perpetrated. I admired the elegance and neatness 
 of his scales and legato playing, but was not other- 
 wise struck by his performance, having expected 
 more, and wondering at some wrong notes which I 
 had detected. 
 
 I did not at once follow his advice with regard to 
 the teacher he had recommended, and two or three 
 days later I received an invitation to dinner from 
 the banker Mallet, to whom an uncle of mine, 
 Harkort of Leipzig, had recommended me, and found 
 myself sitting beside Chopin. The same evening I 
 heard him play, and was fascinated beyond expres- 
 sion. It seemed to me as if I had got into another 
 world, and all thought of Kalkbrenner was driven 
 out of my mind. I sat entranced, filled with won- 
 derment, and if the room had suddenly been peopled 
 with fairies, I should not have been astonished. The 
 marvellous charm, the poetry and originality, the 
 perfect freedom and absolute lucidity of Chopin's 
 playing at that time cannot be described. It was
 
 32 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 perfection in every sense. He seemed to be pleased 
 with the evident impression lie had produced, for I 
 could only stammer a few broken words of admira- 
 tion, and lie played again and again, each time 
 revealing new beauties, until I could have dropped 
 on my knees to worship him. I returned home in a 
 state of complete bewilderment, and it was only the 
 next day that I began to realise what was before me 
 — how much study and hard work, in order to get 
 that technical command over the keyboard, without 
 which I knew now that no good result could be 
 achieved. Strange to say, the idea of taking lessons 
 did not occur to me then ; I felt that what I had to 
 do could be done without a master ; lessons of style 
 might be more useful later on. I shut myself up and 
 practised twelve hours and more a day, until one day 
 my left hand was swollen to about twice its usual 
 size, causing me considerable anxiety. For some 
 months I hardly ever left my rooms, and only when 
 I received invitations to houses where I knew I 
 should meet, and perhaps hear, Chopin. There 
 were not many of them in Paris, for Chopin, impelled 
 by growing weakness, began even then to lead a very 
 retired life. He used still to visit principally Count 
 de Perthuis, the banker August Leo, Mallet, and a 
 few other houses. Fortunately for me I had been 
 introduced by letters to the above three gentlemen, 
 and enjoyed the privilege of being invited to their 
 ' i ''anions intimes,' when Chopin, who avoided large 
 parties, was to be present. With greater familiarity 
 ray admiration increased, for I learned to appreciate
 
 CHOPIN'S MUSIC 33 
 
 what before had principally dazzled me. In personal 
 appearance lie was also most striking, his clear-cut 
 
 features, diaphanous complexion, beautiful brown 
 waving hair, the fragility of his frame, his aristocratic 
 bearing, and his princelike manners, singling him 
 
 out, and making one feel the presence of a superior 
 man. Meeting often, we came into closer contact, 
 and although at that time I never exhibited what 
 small powers I might possess as a pianist, he knew 
 me as an ardent student, and divined that I not 
 merely admired but understood him. Willi time our 
 acquaintance developed into real friendship, which I 
 am happy to say remained undisturbed until the end 
 of his too short life. 
 
 From the year 183G to 1848, a period during 
 which he created many of his most remarkable works, 
 it was my good fortune to hear him play them succes- 
 sively as they appeared, and each seemed a new reve- 
 lation. It is impossible at the present day, when 
 Chopin's music has become the property of every 
 schoolgirl, when there is hardly a concert-programme 
 without his name, to realise the impression which 
 these works produced upon musicians when they first 
 appeared, and especially when they were played by 
 himself. I can confidently assert that nobody has 
 ever been able to reproduce them as they sounded 
 under his magical finders. In listenine; to him vou 
 
 DO O ./ 
 
 lost all power of analysis ; you did not for a moment 
 think how perfect was his execution of this or that 
 difficulty ; you listened, as it were, to the improvisa- 
 tion of a poem and were under the charm as long as 
 
 D
 
 34 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 it lasted. A remarkable feature of his playing was 
 the entire freedom with which he treated the rhythm, 
 but which appeared so natural that for years it had 
 never struck me. It must have been in 1845 or 1846 
 that I once ventured to observe to him that most of 
 his mazurkas (those dainty jewels), when played by 
 himself, appeared to be written, not in 3-4, but in 
 4-4 time, the result of his dwelling so much longer 
 on the first note in the bar. He denied it strenuously, 
 until I made him play one of them and counted 
 audibly four in the bar, which fitted perfectly. 
 Then he laughed and explained that it was the 
 national character of the dance which created the 
 oddity. The more remarkable fact was that you 
 received the impression of a 3-4 rhythm whilst listen- 
 ins to common time. Of course this was not the case 
 with every mazurka, but with many. I understood 
 later how ill-advised I had been to make that observa- 
 tion to him and how well disposed towards me he 
 must have been to have taken it with such good 
 humour, for a similar remark made by Meyerbeer, 
 perhaps in a somewhat supercilious manner, on 
 another occasion, led to a serious quarrel, and I 
 believe Chopin never forgave him. Any deliberate 
 misreading of his compositions he resented sharply. 
 I remember how, on one occasion, in his gentle way 
 he laid his hand upon my shoulder, saying how un- 
 happy he felt, because he had heard his ' Grande 
 Polonaise,' in A flat, jouee vite ! thereby destroying all 
 the grandeur, the majesty, of this noble inspiration. 
 Poor Chopin must be rolling round and round in his
 
 CHOPIN'S ARTISTIC ISOLATION 35 
 
 grave nowadays, for this misreading has unfor- 
 tunately become the fashion. 
 
 I may as well continue to speak about Chopin 
 here and take up the thread of my narrative later on, 
 all the more as it will fill little space. His public 
 appearances were few and far between, and consisted 
 in concerts given in the * Salon Pleyel,' when he pro- 
 duced his newest compositions, the programme open- 
 ing, I think, invariably with Mozart's Trio in E 
 major, the only work by another composer which I 
 ever heard him play. He was so entirely identified 
 with his own music that it occurred to no one to 
 inquire or even to wish to know how he would play, 
 say, Beethoven's sonatas. If he was well acquainted 
 with them remains a moot point. One day, long 
 after I had emerged from my retirement and achieved 
 some notoriety as a pianist, I played at his request, 
 in his own room, the sonata in E flat, Op. 30, No. 3, 
 and after the finale he said that it was the first time 
 he had liked it, that it had always appeared to him 
 very vulgar. I felt flattered, but was much struck 
 by the oddity of the remark. In another direction, 
 he did not admire Mendelssohn's ' Lieder ohne Worte,' 
 with the exception of the first of the first book, which 
 he called a song of the purest virginal beauty. When 
 one reflects on the wonderful originality of his genius, 
 the striking difference of his works from any written 
 before him, without making comparison as to their 
 respective worth, one feels it natural that he should 
 have lived in his own world, and that other music, even 
 the very greatest, did not touch all his sympathies.
 
 36 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 When I first knew him lie was still a charmiug 
 companion, gay and full of life ; a few years later his 
 "bodily decline began ; lie grew weaker and weaker, 
 to such a degree, that when we dined together at 
 Leo's or at other friends' houses, he had to be carried 
 upstairs, even to the first floor. His spirits and his 
 mental energy remained, nevertheless, unimpaired, 
 a proof of which he gave one evening, when, after 
 having written his sonata for piano and violoncello, 
 he invited a small circle of friends to hear it played by 
 himself and Franchomme. On our arrival we found 
 him hardly able to move, bent like a half opened pen- 
 knife, and evidently in great pain. We entreated him to 
 postpone the performance, but he would not hear of 
 it ; soon he sat down to the piano, and as he warmed 
 to his work, his body gradually resumed its normal 
 position, the spirit having mastered the flesh. In 
 spite of his declining physical strength, the charm of 
 his playing remained as great as ever, some of the 
 new readings he was compelled to adopt having a 
 peculiar interest. Thus at the last public concert he 
 gave in Paris, at the end of the year 1847 or the 
 beginning of 1848, he played the latter part of his 
 ' Barcarolle,' from the point where it demands the 
 utmost energy, in the most opposite style, pianissimo, 
 but with such wonderful nuances, that one remained 
 in doubt if this new reading were not preferable to the 
 accustomed one. Nobody but Chopin could have 
 accomplished such a feat. The last time I saw him 
 was in England ; he had come to London a few weeks 
 after my arrival there in 1848, and I had the privilege
 
 LISZT 37 
 
 and the happiness to hear him several times at Mrs. 
 Sartoris's and Henry F. Chorley's houses. The admi- 
 ration which he elicited knew no bounds ; there we 
 heard for the first time the beautiful valses, Op. G2, 
 recently composed and published, which since have 
 become the most popular of his smaller pieces. I had 
 the pleasure afterwards to welcome him to Manchester, 
 where he played at one of the concerts of the society 
 called the Gentlemen's Concerts in the month of 
 August. It was then painfully evident that his end 
 was drawing near ; a year later he was no more. 
 
 To return to my own experiences in 1 830, I have 
 to relate that a few days after having made the 
 acquaintance of Chopin, I heard Liszt for the first time 
 at one of his concerts, and went home with a feeling 
 of thorough dejection. Such marvels of executive 
 skill and power I could never have imagined. He 
 was a giant, and Rubinstein spoke the truth when, at 
 the time when his own triumphs were greatest, he 
 said that, in comparison with Liszt, all other pianists 
 were children. Chopin carried you with him into a 
 dreamland, in which you would have liked to dwell 
 for ever ; Liszt was all sunshine and dazzling splendour, 
 subjugating his hearers with a power that none could 
 withstand. For him there were no difficulties of 
 execution, the most incredible seeming child's play 
 under his fingers. One of the transcendent merits of 
 his playing was the crystal-like clearness which never 
 failed for a moment even in the most complicated 
 and, to anybody else, impossible passages ; it was as 
 if he had photographed them in their minutest detail
 
 3S LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 upon the ear of his listener. The power he drew 
 from his instrument was such as I have never heard 
 since, but never harsh, never suggesting ' thumping.' 
 His daring was as extraordinary as his talent. At 
 an orchestral concert given by him and conducted by 
 Berlioz, the 'March au Supplice,' from the latter's 
 ' Symphonie Fantastique,' that most gorgeously instru- 
 mented piece, was performed, at the conclusion of 
 which Liszt sat down and played his own arrangement, 
 for the piano alone, of the same movement, with an 
 effect even surpassing that of the full orchestra, and 
 creating an indescribable furore. The feat had been 
 duly announced in the programme beforehand, a 
 proof of his indomitable courage. 
 
 If, before his marvellous execution, one had only 
 to bow in admiration, there were some peculiarities 
 of style, or rather of musicianship, which could not 
 be approved. I was very young and most impres- 
 sionable, but still his tacking on the finale of the 
 C sharp minor sonata (Beethoven's) to the variations 
 of the one in A flat, Op. 26, gave me a shock, in spite 
 of the perfection with which both movements were 
 played. Another example : he was fond at that time 
 of playing in public his arrangement for piano of the 
 1 Scherzo,' ' The Storm,' and the finale from Beet- 
 hoven's ' Pastoral Symphony ; ''The Storm' was simply 
 magnificent, and no orchestra could produce a more 
 telling or effective tempest. The peculiarity, the 
 oddity, of the performance, consisted in his playing 
 the first eight bars of the ' Scherzo ' rather quicker 
 than they are usually taken, and the following eight
 
 THALBERG 39 
 
 bars, the B major phrase, in a slow andante time ; 
 ' ce sont les vieux,' he said to me on one occasion. 
 It may serve to characterise the state of musical 
 knowledge in Paris, at the time I speak of, when I 
 state that at a concert given by Liszt in 18o7, in the 
 Salle Erard, the B flat Trio by Beethoven, which 
 stood at the commencement of the programme, and 
 Mayseder's Trio in A flat, which was to begin the 
 second part, were transposed for some reason or other, 
 without the fact being announced to the public. The 
 consequence was that Mayseder's Trio, passing for 
 Beethoven, was received with acclamation, and 
 Beethoven's very coldly, the newspapers also eulo- 
 gising the lirst and criticising the length and dry- 
 ness of the other severely. Of the man Liszt I shall 
 have now and then something to say when I arrive 
 at the time of our more intimate acquaintance. 
 
 With Thalberg there came a new sensation in the ]/ 
 same year. Totally unlike in style to either Chopin 
 or Liszt, he was admirable and unimpeachable in his 
 own way. His performances were wonderfully 
 finished and accurate, giving the impression that a 
 wrong note was an impossibility. His tone was 
 round and beautiful, the clearness of his passage- 
 playing crystal-like, and he had brought to the 
 utmost perfection the method, identified with his 
 name, of making a melody stand out distinctly through 
 a maze of brilliant passages. He did not appeal to 
 the emotions, except those of wonder, for his playing 
 was statuesque ; cold, but beautiful and so masterly 
 that it was said of him with reason he would play
 
 40 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 with the same care and finish if roused out of the 
 deepest sleep in the middle of the night. He created 
 a great sensation in Paris, and became the idol of the 
 public, principally, perhaps, because it was felt that 
 he could be imitated, even successfully, which with 
 Chopin and Liszt was out of the question. 
 
 The hearing of Liszt and Thalberg put Kalk- 
 brenner's advice still more in the shade. I went on 
 listening to the three mighty heroes as often as I had 
 an opportunity and relentlessly pursuing my studies 
 by myself. By the help of some influential introduc- 
 tions I had brought with me, I made by degrees 
 interesting acquaintances. It was probably on 
 account of my youth, and my great enthusiasm for 
 music, that I was at once treated with great kindness 
 by men at the zenith of their fame and much older 
 than myself. This was the case with Meyerbeer, 
 Halevy, Liszt, and others, to whose nearer acquaint- 
 ance I was helped through the then all powerful 
 music-publisher, Maurice Schlesinger. The Parisian 
 artistic and literary society, at that time, was so con- 
 stituted that to know a few men of mark was to know 
 them all, and certainly more by luck than by any 
 merit, I soon found myself at home in circles of which 
 I had read and dreamed, but which I had not hoped 
 to enter. Gradually I had then to throw off my 
 reserve and to play when I was asked, confining my- 
 self to excerpts from Beethoven and a few other 
 composers. I met with success and encouragement, 
 but for three years I resisted all attempts to make me 
 appear in public, for which I did not feel myself ripe.
 
 STANCES AT M. GUIBERTS 41 
 
 During this time of labour I was visited one day, only 
 a.few months after my arrival, by a gentleman, Mon- 
 sieur Guibert, a rich ' agent-de-change,' who had 
 heard of me, and made me the following proposal. 
 He had two sons, ten and twelve years of age, was 
 extremely fond of music, his wife and only brother 
 equally so, and he wished to form the taste of his boys 
 and make them thoroughly acquainted with the best 
 compositions, for which purpose he asked me to devote 
 one evening every week to himself and his family, 
 and play for them whatever I liked and as much as I 
 liked. It reminded me of the evenings with Herr 
 Elbers ; and M. Guibert adding a very handsome 
 pecuniaiy inducement to his proposal, we soon 
 agreed, and from that time for years I dined every 
 Thursday at his table and revelled in music for hours 
 afterwards. No strangers were admitted, and it was 
 a delight to me to expound and make them feel the 
 beauties of the various works we went through. Of 
 course the sonatas of Beethoven were chiefly and 
 diligently studied, but Mozart, Haydn, Bach, Weber, 
 Dussek, Hummel, Clementi, and others were not 
 neglected. I even played the arrangements of Beet- 
 hoven's, Mozart's, and Haydn's symphonies ; in fact, 
 there was hardly anything in the whole range of 
 music capable of being rendered on the piano with 
 which I did not get familiar by familiarising my friends 
 with it. These seances, repeated so constantly — for 
 we only allowed a break of a few months in the 
 summer — were of immense advantage to myself, for 
 there were many pieces I might have neglected but
 
 42 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 for the desire to increase our repertoire to the ut- 
 most. 
 
 I owe them also one great joy which alone would 
 have made them for ever worthy of my remembrance. 
 It was in 1S38 that M. Guibert asked if for once I 
 would allow him to admit a friend, a sincere lover of 
 music, to be present on one of our evenings. The 
 request being readily granted, the friend came on the 
 following Thursday, and turned out to be Salvator 
 Cherubini, the eldest son of one of my idols, the great 
 composer. Overjoyed as I was, my rapture became 
 indescribable when a few days later M. Salvator 
 called upon me with a message from his father, to the 
 effect that he wished to make my acquaintance and 
 hoped I would sometimes spend a Sunday evening 
 with him. I felt as if I had received the Grand Cross 
 of the Legion of Honour, and of course the next Sun- 
 day evening I presented myself at the ' Conservatoire,' 
 where Cherubini lived, trembling with emotion. The 
 veneration I felt for him must have been strongly 
 depicted on my face, for he received me smiling and 
 endeavoured, by speaking of the pleasure I had given 
 to his son — which pleasure he hoped soon to enjoy 
 also — to encourage and set me at my ease. No easy 
 task, for only in the presence of Beethoven could I 
 have felt the same emotion. His old friend Berton, 
 the once greatly-renowned composer, w T as with him 
 (' les inseparables ' they were called), and greeted me 
 with equal kindness. Cherubini had a great regard 
 for my former master, Einck, also for G. Weber. 
 After some conversation, of which they formed the
 
 CHERUBINI 43 
 
 subject, I was requested to play one of Beethoven's 
 sonatas, Cherubim professing to be but little ac- 
 quainted with them, which I found to he the truth 
 by Ills asking for certain movements, even for whole 
 sonatas, over again not only on this but on many 
 subsequent occasions, for to my intense satisfaction I 
 was invited to repeat my visit. Most of the sonatas 
 I had then the privilege of playing in the presence of 
 Cherubini and Berton were evidently new to them, 
 somewhat to my astonishment, but there could be no 
 doubt about the interest with which they listened to 
 them — an interest demonstrated solely by their silent 
 attention and the requests for repeats, for not once 
 did Cherubini make a remark on the beauty or the 
 character of the works, or criticise them in any way. 
 His silence reminded me of the story told of his wit- 
 nessing the first performance of one of Halevy 's operas, 
 from the composer's box. He kept silence there, until 
 after the second act Halevy, his pupil, asked, ' Maestro, 
 have you nothing to say to me ? ' when Cherubini 
 snarled back, ' I have been listening to you for two 
 hours and you have said nothing to me? But in 
 listening to Beethoven's sonatas his silence could cer- 
 tainly not be attributed to a similar cause ; that I 
 saw clearly, even by the play of his handsome features, 
 and why should he have asked me to repeat my visits, 
 had it not been for the interest he felt in these sonatas, 
 which seemed to grow the more I played of them ? 
 
 Sayings of his, like the above to Halevy, were 
 currently quoted at the time and made him the terror 
 of most people who had to deal with him. There
 
 44 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 seemed to be no actual ' mechancete ' in him, only an 
 inability to calculate the effect of his words, as in the 
 case of the young man who applied for admission into 
 the operatic class of the Conservatoire, but was so 
 ill-favoured by nature that the professors thought it 
 would be a kindness to him to deter him from trying 
 his luck on the sta^e. But who was to tell him in a 
 delicate way? Cherubini volunteered to do so, sent 
 for the young man, and said, ' Dear sir, the Conser- 
 vatoire regrets to be unable to accept you as a pupil 
 because — you are too ugly.' That was his manner 
 of softening a rude blow. 
 
 My evenings at the Conservatoire were greatly 
 enjoyed by me, and if Cherubini was reticent in ex- 
 pressing an opinion on Beethoven, he could talk 
 enthusiastically about Gluck, Spontini, and music as 
 an art and a science. About Bossini and the whole 
 school of his followers, then in the ascendant, he 
 could become very sarcastic ; it was a topic carefully 
 to be avoided. And so was the mention of the name 
 of Berlioz, who had already become one of my 
 friends. But of him later. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT 
 
 Of the first sixteen years of my father's life, passed almost 
 entirely at home, but one short letter has been preserved ; it 
 is a little birthday greeting, written at the age of six or 
 seven to his favourite Uncle Hltgel, and only remarkable as 
 bearing the promise of the firm, clear, and beautiful hand- 
 writing that he retained all his life. 
 
 Two compositions also remain to us ; the first, which he 
 called a ' hops ' waltz, is dedicated to the same ' dear Uncle 
 Iliigel,' by ' Carlchen Halle,' and thus endorsed by Herr Hiigel: —
 
 CONCERT AT CAS8EL !•"> 
 
 A token of affection from Carl Halle. This darling child 
 composed and wrote out the above waltz at the age of five ; the 
 little genius already plays several sonatas by the great masters 
 with great perfection and feeling. 
 
 The second composition, also a waltz, was written the 
 following year : — 
 
 Waltz for my dear father's birthday, the 15th March, 1*26, 
 composed by your son, CABL JIalij:. 
 
 The page is adorned with a little vignette, representing 
 a winged cupid standing on a footstool, and playing on a 
 pianoforte, the work of his fast friend and ally, Uncle 
 Hiigel. 
 
 My father has described in his memoirs the visit to 
 Cassel with his father, in 1828, the concert he gave there, 
 and his interview with Spohr. In those days, when adver- 
 tising had scarcely been invented, almost the only announce- 
 ment of this concert consisted of the following statement, 
 written entirely in my grandfather's hand, on a large sheet 
 of foolscap paper, now yellow with age : — 
 
 On Tuesday, the 16th of this month, my son, Carl Halle, nine 
 years old, will give a Musical Evening in Herr Oestreich's Hall, 
 and will perform several pieces by Ries, Herz, &c, on the piano- 
 forte. The rare talent of this child induces me to hope that he 
 will afford the amateurs of music an enjoyable evening's enter- 
 tainment, the more so that Fraulein Heinefetter and Herr Wild 
 have kindly promised their assistance, and will sing several 
 songs. 
 
 In order to cover the expenses of the evening T take the 
 liberty respectfully to beg the ladies and gentlemen, who intend 
 to honour the entertainment with their presence, kindly to 
 inscribe their names below. 
 
 The Soiree will commence at 7 o'clock, and the entrance will 
 be 15 g. gr. Fr. Halle. 
 
 Cassel : September 18, 1828. 
 
 Then follows a testimonial written and signed by 
 Spohr : —
 
 46 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 I take pleasure in attesting that this boy's talent is quite 
 extraordinary ; and that, for his age, he executes the most 
 difficult modern compositions with inconceivable facility and 
 steadiness. Louis Spohr. 
 
 The signatures of some twenty ladies and gentlemen, 
 presumably the chief musical connoisseurs of Cassel, fill the 
 rest of the sheet. 
 
 The programme of this concert, the first of the long series 
 of programmes that was to stretch over nearly seventy years, 
 also lies before me ; its very first words strike one rather 
 curiously to-day : ' Mit obrigkeitlicher Bewilligung.' ' With 
 Magisterial Authority,' proving the censorship that extended 
 even to the programme of a concert in the year 1828. This 
 is probably the only concert my father ever gave at which he 
 contributed no work by any greater or more classical com- 
 poser than Ries and Herz. 
 
 A little anecdote, which we have reason to know my 
 father would have inserted in the record of his childish years, 
 may here find place. When he was some seven or eight 
 years old, a schoolmaster from a neighbouring town, a great 
 amateur performer on the piano, came to visit Herr Fliiss, 
 the Hagen schoolmaster. The gentleman was not only a 
 great virtuoso, but a little inclined to be vain of his accom- 
 plishment, and very soon volunteered to play one of 
 Beethoven's sonatas to his host ; when he had finished 
 and looked round for applause, Herr Fliiss thanked and 
 praised him very much, but added : ' You see, we are very 
 far advanced in musical matters here at Hagen ; the little 
 boys in the street play Beethoven almost if not quite as well 
 as that,' and in answer to the incredulous smile, and ' Oh 
 indeed ! ' with which the pianist received this statement, he 
 continued : ' But I will prove it to you.' He thereupon 
 tapped at the window, through which he could see his son 
 Cornelius and my father playing marbles before the door, and 
 said : ' Come in, Carl,' and as soon as he appeared, bade him 
 sit down and play the sonata that lay open on the piano.
 
 CORNELIUS FLUSS 47 
 
 The little boy looked at his hands, and asked permission to 
 go and wash them. * Never mind your dirty hands, sit down 
 and play.' My father obeyed, and the astonished school- 
 master had to confess that the performance was better than 
 his own. It is not known whether Herr Fliiss allowed him 
 to go away with the impression that all the little boys of 
 Hagen could leave their marbles to play Beethoven in an 
 equally masterly manner. 
 
 The above-mentioned Cornelius Fliiss, my father's senior 
 by a single day, was the inseparable comrade of his boyhood, 
 and remained to the day of his death, in 1881, the man the 
 most after his own heart of all his friends. My father always 
 spoke of him as the most gifted man he had ever known, and 
 would sometimes regret the want of energy, or perhaps the 
 philosophy, that made Cornelius Fliiss content to fill the 
 place his father had held before him, as schoolmaster of the 
 then small country town of Hagen. It is a matter of deep 
 regret that not one of my father's letters to him has been 
 preserved ; during his last illness Cornelius asked for the 
 whole collection, which he had always most carefully pre- 
 served ; he read them through once more, and then destroyed 
 them. And it is curious that my father, who, as a rule, kept 
 every letter, however insignificant, addressed to him by his 
 family and intimate friends, should have made one exception 
 in the case of Cornelius ; only one letter, written in a kind 
 of nonsense-verse, having been found among his papers. 
 
 Cornelius had a most chivalrous punctilio on the subject, 
 and always refused to listen to any extract, however interest- 
 ing, which my grandmother or aunts might offer to read to 
 him from my father's or any other person's letters. As to 
 the suggestion of reading it himself he would regard it in 
 almost the same light as the suggestion to pick a pocket. 
 
 Another of my father's correspondents, almost the only 
 one outside his own family, with whom his busy life allowed 
 him to keep up a more or less regular interchange of letters, 
 Stephen Heller, also destroyed his correspondence shortly 
 before his death. His own letters, some of which are given
 
 48 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 here, indicate very clearly that my fathers must have been 
 most interesting, and of great value to the musical history of 
 the long period — 1SL8 to 1887 — that they cover. 
 
 Before leaving the subject of those early years at Hagen 
 it is worth noticing that some of my father's most striking 
 characteristics were inherited from my grandmother, whose 
 loving, dutiful . and obedient son he proved himself until the last 
 day of her long and honoured life. Such were his great love of 
 order, his invariable sweetness of disposition, and the almost 
 passionate love and admiration for the beauties of nature, 
 which could make him write from Cape Town in 1895, that 
 the view of the Kloof repaid him for the journey there. 
 
 It was Fran Halle's habit, when out walking with her 
 children, to point out all the various beauties of wood and 
 field through which their path might lead, and during their 
 winter rambles among the wooded hills that encircle Hagen, 
 she would make them pick up some little frosted twig or 
 branch, and, laying it on her muff, would describe its delicate 
 traceries and the transformations of the frost, in language so 
 simple and beautiful, that it never faded from their minds. 
 
 Her son's love of colour, his strong dislike for black and 
 dingy hues, also date from those early days ; he never quite 
 ceased to regret, while most rigidly obeying it himself, the 
 law that ordains the universal blackness of male attire. He 
 would say how much nicer it was when one man wore a brown 
 coat, another a green, and another a blue ; that it made the 
 streets and all assemblies so much gayer and more brilliant. 
 
 Endless were the stories of his childhood with which he 
 would delight his own children's ears during the evening 
 hour, the only portion of the day we were allowed to spend 
 in his study. I think he told them as graphically and care- 
 fully to us as if we had been a most distinguished audience ; 
 one or two there were always reserved until after the ' little 
 ones ' had gone to bed, for which we often asked, to which 
 we listened with somewhat bated breath, and which made the 
 going along dark passages on our own way to bed rather an 
 uninviting prospect.
 
 AX APPARITION 49 
 
 One tale he told but seldom, and never without the reve- 
 rence of tone which he observed towards all well-authenticated 
 manifestations of a supernatural character, though no one 
 could be called less superstitious than he. The event, al- 
 though it had occurred many years before his birth, and he 
 had only known of it by hearsay, had made a deep and lasting 
 impression upon him. 
 
 At the beginning of this century his maternal grand- 
 parents lived at Altena, a small Westphalian town some 
 twenty-five miles from Hagen, with their children, the third 
 of whom, Christina Brendschedt, then about ten years old, 
 was the heroine of the tale. She and her younger sister, 
 Caroline, my grandmother, shared the same room, and one 
 night Christina roused her sister in great alarm, saying she 
 saw someone standing at the foot of her bed, holding back 
 the curtain. The two little girls, although Caroline saw no- 
 thing unusual in the room, began by hiding their faces under 
 the bed-clothes, and when Christina, venturing to look a 
 second time, saw the figure still, they began to scream, and 
 called their parents, who were in the next room. Their 
 father first contented himself by calling back to them that 
 Christina had been dreaming, and that the figure would go 
 away as soon as she was wide awake, but the child cried 
 again that the figure looked ' so anxious,' and was pointing 
 to the window. This happened two or three times, until 
 their father said he would come and see for himself, upon 
 which the child said to her little sister, ' Now he drops the 
 curtain.' As soon as Herr Brendschedt entered the room he 
 saw to his amazement that a great gap was in the wall, and 
 he had but the time to save the children and give the alarm 
 before the wall gave way. A new well had been recently 
 dusr too close to the house, and had weakened the foundations. 
 My great aunt Christina lived to a good old age, and when- 
 ever she spoke of this event, which was but seldom, she 
 would say that she had forgotten the faces of all whom she 
 had known at that time of her life, but that if she could 
 draw, she would be able to reproduce the countenance of 
 
 E
 
 50 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 her ' Guardian Angel,' as she called the vision of that 
 night. 
 
 Many years afterwards, as will be seen in one of my 
 father's letters, he took his mother and annt once again to 
 Altena, and on his return to England he told us how their 
 first visit had been to the old house, now inhabited by 
 strangers, and how they had stood a long while in the garden 
 looking up at the wall, restored and repaired, but plainly show- 
 ing the marks of the fissure that had so nearly proved fatal. 
 
 At the close of the Napoleonic wars a detachment of 
 Prussian troops was riding through Altena amid the joyous 
 acclamations of the people, and a young officer, chancing to 
 look up, caught sight of Christina Brendschedt at a window 
 with her sisters, watching the passage of the troops. The 
 young soldier told a comrade the next day that he had seen 
 the girl he meant to make his wife, if he could find her out 
 and win her. He did both ; and soon afterwards Christina 
 Brendschedt married Gustav Harkort, who rose to be one 
 of the most trusted councillors of the King of Saxony, and 
 whose statue now stands in one of the public squares of 
 Leipzig, erected after his death by his grateful fellow- 
 citizens. 
 
 When we read or hear of the doings of those by no means 
 remote ancestors, the conviction is forced upon us that there 
 must have been a great vitality and vigour, a great power of 
 enjoyment and of endurance in the youths and maidens of 
 the first twenty years of the nineteenth century. The girls 
 of the Brendschedt family were very fond of dancing, and it 
 was by no means an unusual or remarkable occurrence for 
 them to perform a day's journey on foot to attend a ball in a 
 neighbouring town, to dance the whole night through, and 
 return next day in the same manner. It must have been a 
 merry company that would start off from Altena in the early 
 morning, their destination Cologne, a ten hours' march, their 
 path lying across the hills and valleys of the rich and pleasant 
 rothe-erde of Westphalia, their escort a stout serving-man 
 when their fathers or brothers were not with them, but in the
 
 HARDY ANCESTORS 51 
 
 latter case the journeys would be made less fatiguing for one 
 or two, who could ride on pillions behind the gentlemen. 
 Dress was simpler then, and for a ball, a knot of ribbons, and a 
 few fresh flowers, were considered sufficient adornment of the 
 universal low-necked white muslin gown. 
 
 Those low-necked gowns seem to have been worn in 
 winter as in summer, and it is with something like a shiver 
 that one hears of skating parties, where the young ladies dis- 
 ported themselves for hours on the ice with no thicker mantle 
 over their low, short-sleeved dresses than a gauze scarf, worn 
 more for ' coquetterie ' than warmth, as my great-aunt Altgelt 
 candidly admitted in talking of the pleasant gatherings of her 
 youth. Top-coats seem to have been unknown, not only to 
 the young men, but also to the elders of those hardy days. 
 
 In the evening, the illumination in my great-grandfather's 
 house, when the family were alone, consisted, if tradition 
 speaks truly, of one candle placed on the table, round which 
 the whole family were gathered, and that candle, made of 
 tallow, and often requiring to be snuffed, stood close to Herr 
 Brendschedt's elbow, where he sat at the head of the table 
 reading his book or the gazette. By this dim and distant 
 light his daughters yet managed to do the finest imaginable 
 needlework, those delicate white embroideries, of which the 
 few specimens that remain are now so highly prized. 
 
 On one occasion, when she was quite a young girl, my 
 grandmother, the fame of whose sweet singing had spread 
 beyond her native town, was invited to take part in a 
 concert at Iserlohn, at some distance from Altena. At that 
 time there existed no carriage-road nor even a cart-track 
 between the two towns, so one of the members of the com- 
 mittee charged with the arrangements for the concert was 
 deputed to ride to Altena, and bring her back on a pillion 
 behind him by the rough bridle-paths, or, where they failed, 
 across country, 'thorough bush, thorough briar,' and then 
 convey her home again on the day after the concert in the 
 same way. — M. H. 
 
 e 2
 
 52 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 1838-1848 
 
 Stephen Heller — His gifts as an itnproviser — Musical evenings at the 
 Rue d'Ainsterdam — Heinrich Heine : his attitude towards music; a 
 rupture and a reconciliation — Richard Wagner in 1839 : the fate of 
 ' Christoph Colomh : ' subsequent meetings at Heidelberg and 
 Bayreuth — How I heard Paganini— My friendship with Berlioz : his 
 gifts and limitations — Habeneck's historic pinch of snuff — Berlioz as 
 a conductor — Armand Bertin's generosity — My first public concert in 
 Paris — Marriage in 1841: the significance of the number 11 — ■ 
 Tour in Germany in 1842 — Acquaintance with Mendelssohn : his 
 marvellous memory — Conducting without score — Concert at Darm- 
 stadt — A noisy apartment on the Rue Blanche — Delsarte's singing — 
 A galaxy of talent — Ingres and his love of music — Ary Scheffer — 
 My first visit to England in 1843 : Ernst and Sivori — Ernst's solo on 
 the 15s. violin — Musical taste in London in 1843 — Visit to Count 
 d'Orsay — Return to Paris : I am invited to play at the Conservatoire 
 concerts — Urhan's well -merited rebuke — Beethoven Festival at 
 Bonn — Anecdotes of Liszt — My visit to the Chateau d'Eu : a grand 
 piano on a diligence — My chamber concerts in Paris — Disastrous 
 results of the Revolution of 1848 — My narrow escape— Offer of a 
 diplomatic appointment from Lamartine — Departure from Paris : a 
 painful leave-taking — -Reminiscences of Taglioni, Mile. Louise Bertin, 
 Rossini, Donizetti, Alexander Humboldt. 
 
 Lv the winter of 1838-9 Stephen Heller arrived in, 
 Paris, which makes an epoch in my life. A friend- 
 ship sprang up between us almost at once, which 
 endured uninterruptedly to the end of his days in 
 1888, and had a most decided influence upon my 
 intellectual development. Only those who have 
 known him as intimately as I have (and I doubt if 
 there are any) can appreciate the high quality of his
 
 STEPHEN SELLER 53 
 
 gifts, the superiority of his intelligence, and the sound- 
 ness of his judgment in all matters musical, artistic, 
 and literary. He brought few of his compositions 
 with him, and, in fact, nearly all his works date from 
 Paris, but these few revealed the real musician, the 
 original thinker, and had already attracted Schu- 
 mann's attention, with whom Heller corresponded 
 frequently. I was happy to meet a man whose whole 
 soul was wrapped up in music — as my own was — and 
 the long hours we spent together at the piano playing 
 duets form some of my most cherished recollections. 
 It was during these seances in my humble lodgings in 
 the Eue Notre Dame de Lorette that we made acquaint- 
 ance with and revelled in the beauties of Schubert's 
 great C major symphony, then recently discovered 
 and published as a pianoforte duet. It was a revela- 
 tion to us, and we were never tired of playing it 
 through. But the same was the case with all the 
 great compositions for orchestra, or orchestra with 
 chorus, arranged in a similar form. How often we 
 must have played Beethoven's symphonies it is im- 
 possible to tell, and how we enjoyed them ! All the 
 more as the opportunities of hearing them performed 
 by the orchestra were then most rare, the Concerts 
 du Conservatoire only bringing forward two or three 
 during a season, so that certain of them, for instance, 
 Nos. 4, 7, and 9, were heard perhaps once in three or 
 four years. In 1839 neither Heller nor I had ever 
 heard the Choral Symphony performed, and were 
 therefore all the more eager to study it closely. 
 Such a performance was approached with a certain
 
 54 LIFE OF SIR CHAELES HALLE 
 
 solemnity. When our means — slender at that time — - 
 permitted, a bottle of champagne was sent for and 
 drunk during the performance as on a festive 
 occasion. But here, for once, we felt the inadequacy 
 of the piano; much as we admired the three first 
 movements, we could not understand the finale, hard 
 as we tried ; it left on us a disagreeable impression, 
 somewhat akin to sea-sickness, in spite of which we 
 renewed again and again our endeavour to fathom it, 
 but with no better result. 
 
 Heller was a remarkable pianist, but shrank from 
 playing in public, and perhaps he had not the gift to 
 impress a large audience. There was a singular 
 modesty and reticence in his playing of his own 
 works, an indication only of expression and nuance, 
 as if he felt shy of telling all the secrets of his heart. 
 This shyness, however, left him entirely when he was 
 improvising, a gift in which he excelled all great 
 musicians that I have known. The change that came 
 over him and his execution in such moments, or 
 hours, was marvellous. As a rule he was not a very 
 great master of technique, but when improvising all 
 difficulties seemed to vanish, and it is certain that if 
 he had been able to place before him in print what he 
 accomplished in these moments of inspiration he 
 would have stared, and it would have taken him 
 weeks of hard study to play what had seemed so 
 easy. Whether he improvised quite freely, or on 
 subjects self-chosen or given to him, he was equally 
 fascinating, dominating his listeners and pouring out 
 a wealth of ideas of which his published compositions
 
 HELLER'S IMPROVISATIONS 55 
 
 give no idea. He had an extraordinary faculty of 
 combining the most dissimilar themes, and proved it 
 once — the only time, I believe, he ever improvised in 
 public — where the opening of ' Don Giovanni,' ' Xotte 
 e giorno faticar,' Pedrillo's ' Viva Bacco, Bacco viva,' 
 from ' II Seraglio,' and his own ' Wanderstunden,' were 
 given to him, and after the one and the other had 
 been treated most ingeniously for some time, they 
 were all three, or the semblance of them, heard at 
 the same time, a feat so difficult of execution that it 
 would have required long practice on the part of any 
 pianist to master it, and here it was accomplished 
 spontaneously. The occasion was a visit he paid to 
 England in 18G2, of which I may speak here, as it is 
 connected with his talent for improvisation. I had 
 heard from him that he was what is commonly called 
 6 hard up,' and in order to replenish his exhausted 
 exchequer had obtained for him several engagements 
 in England and induced him to cive a concert in 
 Manchester. Everywhere we played duets for two 
 pianos, Heller being too nervous to appear alone ; 
 but for the Manchester concert, which I was most 
 anxious should have a good result, I had insisted on 
 his including in the programme an * Improvisation on 
 subjects given by the audience.' After a hard fight 
 he had submitted, and my expectations of a crowded 
 house were fully realised. I little knew that a cata- 
 strophe was impending, from which fortunately I was 
 able to save Heller. On the day previous to the, 
 concert a charming young lady, who with her sister 
 took lessons from me, asked me, ' Is it really true
 
 56 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 that Heller is going to improvise ? ' ' Yes, it is part 
 of the programme,' was my answer. ' Oh, how 
 droll ! and may any one give a subject ? ' ' Certainly, 
 anybody that can think of one.' ' So, if I said — 
 sponge, would that do ? ' I cannot imagine what the 
 consequence would have been, but the improvisation- 
 would have been ' sponged ' out. 
 
 I return to my narrative of very happy times, 
 made principally so by my friendship with Heller and 
 by the interest with which I and a few other intimate 
 musical friends watched and enjoyed his productions. 
 By the time Heller came to Paris I had already made 
 a good many friends and could be of some use to him by 
 introducing him to people he wished to know. In my 
 turn I owe him some most interesting acquaintances. 
 My circumstances were gradually improving, thanks 
 to the number of my pupils increasing constantly, so 
 that I was able to move into better quarters, in the 
 Eue d' Amsterdam, where I first began to have a few 
 musical evenings at home, reunions of friends, such 
 as Berlioz, Heller, Ernst, Batta (the accomplished and 
 refined violoncellist), Artot, known as ' le bel Artot,' 
 Delsarte, the marvellous tenor without a voice, and 
 several others. On one evening Artot proposed that 
 we should play the Kreutzer Sonata, and we did so. 
 Now Artot, most elegant violinist and most successful 
 performer though he was, was entirely out of his ele- 
 ment in such music, which was so painfully evident 
 that when he had left us rather early, Ernst sprang 
 up and said, ' Come, Halle, let us play the Kreutzer ! ' 
 He played it magnificently, and I have never better
 
 HKiNiiicii i!i:i.\i: 57 
 
 understood than on that evening how much depends 
 upon the power of interpretation ; how the want of it 
 can deprive the finest work of its charm and interest. 
 From the Hue d'Amsterdam I moved to the Rue 
 Lafitte, where I had charming, quiet rooms with a view 
 upon some beautiful gardens, and here it was that 
 Heller first brought Heinrich Heine to me. They knew 
 each other from being both contributors to the ' Augs- 
 burger Allgemeine Zeitung,' Germany's most im- 
 portant paper then. Heine, then only about forty-two 
 years of age, of handsome and winning appearance, 
 strong and healthy, with no indication of the suffer- 
 ings that were to be his fate later on, was, of course, 
 a most welcome guest. He came often, always with 
 Heller — in fact, I cannot remember a single occasion 
 on which our trio developed into a quartet, and many 
 were our discussions on music, in which he took great 
 interest — perhaps without really understanding, as 
 some of his remarks seemed to show. I had brought 
 with me, after an excursion to German}', the book of 
 songs by Mendelssohn, in which the first is the 
 setting of Heine's ' Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges.' I 
 spoke of it with enthusiasm to Heine, who came the 
 same evening with Heller to the Eue Lafitte, most 
 eager to hear this version of his poem. I had a feeble, 
 but not altogether disagreeable tenor voice, and sang 
 the ' Lied ' to him with all the expression I was capable 
 of, and certainly correctly as regards the music. Great 
 was my astonishment, and Heller's also, when at the 
 conclusion he said in a disappointed tone, ' There is 
 no melody in it.' As there is nothing but melody in
 
 58 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 it, we long puzzled over the riddle — What sort of 
 melody may satisfy a poet when he hears his own words 
 sung ? An insoluble one, I am afraid. 
 
 Irresistibly charming was Heine when, the con- 
 versation flagging, which often happens when three 
 smokers sit together, he would, after a more or less 
 long silence, suddenly recite one of his shorter poems, 
 clothing it with undreamt-of beauty by his manner of 
 delivery. We sat in mute wonder, and it seemed 
 quite natural that he should add musingly in a half 
 unconscious tone: 'Beautiful!' The oddity of the 
 remark, coming from himself, never once struck us : 
 it was so perfectly true. Our relations remained for 
 vears the most friendly ; then suddenly and unex- 
 pectedly he showed the cloven hoof. I had already 
 beo-un to give concerts and had been treated most 
 kindly by him, when one day, after one of them 
 which he had attended, I met him on the Boulevard, 
 went up to him to shake hands, and was cut dead. 
 There was no mistake, and often as we met after that 
 he took no notice of me. At that time he wrote to the 
 ' Au<ysburger Zeitung ' that I was a small prophet whom 
 the whale would have spat out promptly if it had 
 swallowed him. I had reason to believe that a mistake 
 made in the tickets sent him for my concert was the 
 source of his anger, and was extremely sorry for it ; 
 but as he ought to have known that the mistake could 
 not have originated with me, I was too proud to seek 
 an explanation. So we passed each other for many 
 months without so much as a look, until one day, 
 meeting on the same Boulevard, he came up to me,
 
 RICHARD WAGNER 59 
 
 shook my hand warmly in the old friendly manner, 
 and after a few commonplace questions, asked : 'Were 
 you at Doehler's concert yesterday ? ' and hearing that 
 I had not been there, he added a brule-pourpoint, ' I do 
 not like him. No, no ; to hear somebody who plays 
 really well, one must come to you ! ' ' Hallo ! ' I said, 
 4 and what about the whale ? ' Upon which he laughed 
 most heartily, shook my hand again, and departed 
 without further explanation. After that we were the 
 same old friends again. 
 
 Towards the end of the year 1839 Heller brought 
 one evening to my rooms a young musician, my senior 
 only by six years, whose acquaintance he had made 
 through Maurice Schlesinger, and who, as he told me 
 in a side whisper, stood in great need of kindness and 
 assistance. The name of this young musician was 
 Eichard Wagner, a name which at that time meant 
 nothing to us, as we were in absolute ignorance of the 
 talents he might or might not be endowed with. We 
 knew that he was in great straits, had unsuccessfully 
 applied for an appointment as chorus singer in a small 
 theatre, and for his living made all kinds of arrange- 
 ments for Schlesinger, even to an arrangement of 
 Halevy's ' La Eeine de Chypre ' for two flutes, to which 
 Heller suggested the addition of a big drum. Wagner 
 himself used to laugh at this occupation, the result of 
 dire necessity ; and we, never having seen or heard 
 a note of his own compositions, took it almost for 
 granted that he was not fit for much more. He was 
 no pianist or he might have given us some idea of his 
 own work. He rarely spoke of his aspirations, but
 
 GO LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 when he did so, it was usually in a strain which made 
 
 us wonder if, as the phrase goes, he was ' all there.' 
 
 We liked him as a most frank, amiable, and lively 
 
 companion, modest and full of enthusiasm for all that 
 
 is beautiful in art. And he felt evidently at home 
 
 with us. He came often to the Eue Lafitte. Heller 
 
 improvised, I played, or we played duets, and I 
 
 remember that one evening when I had played to 
 
 them Schumann's ' Carneval,' then quite new, we three 
 
 indited a letter of thanks to the composer, which 
 
 letter I saw more than fortj 7 years later in the hands 
 
 of his widow. In 1876, when I met him at Bayreuth, 
 
 his first words alluded to the pleasant evenings with 
 
 Heller at my rooms in Paris. What an immense 
 
 change had taken place ! What a difference there 
 
 was between the man of 1839 and the man of 1876 ! 
 
 Schlesinger, the proprietor of the ' Gazette 
 Musicale,' the most important musical paper in 
 France, gave to the subscribers annually a few con- 
 certs with a view to increasing their number, and in 
 the spring of 1840 he included in the programme an 
 overture by his then protege, Eichard Wagner. The 
 overture was called ' Christ oph Colomb,' and as it was 
 the first time we were to hear a specimen of our friend's 
 works, we were naturally very curious, and attended 
 the concert with great expectations. The result was 
 disastrous. Whether it was* that the performance, 
 for want of rehearsals, was most imperfect, or that 
 the style was what we might now call ultra-Wagnerian, 
 or for both these reasons joined together, the whole 
 overture struck us as the work of a madman, and we
 
 THE FATE OF 'CRISTOPH COLOMB' Gl 
 
 had no opportunity to reconsider our judgment, as 
 ' Christoph Colomb ' has never again seen the light. 
 
 It was not many months after this fiasco that we heard 
 with amazement of the great success his opera, 
 'Rienzi,' had achieved in Dresden, and still greater 
 was our astonishment when the perusal of the score 
 showed us that the success was perfectly justified. 
 Here was a case of unrecognised merit, if ever there 
 was one — or rather a proof of the difficulties that 
 confront the musician who is a composer. A painter 
 shows his picture and the world judges it. But the 
 composer of an opera may carry the score round with 
 him for years and nobody will be the wiser for it. In 
 after years I met Wagner seldom, and each time found 
 it more difficult to recognise in him the genial, modest 
 young companion I had known so well. His manner 
 of speech had become bombastic, often not to be 
 6 understanded of the people.' In 18G2 we met by 
 accident in the ruins of the old castle of Heidelberg. 
 In the previous winter I had given concert perform- 
 ances of Gluck's ' Iphigenia in Tauris,' in Manchester, 
 London, and other towns with remarkable success. 
 This apparently had interested Wagner greatly, and 
 rather surprised him. He spoke of it at length, and 
 concluded by saying : ' The English are an extra- 
 ordinary people — und dennoch iveiss ich nicht ob es je 
 bei ihnen zu dem Seufzer kommt, ohne den der Blumen- 
 duft der Kunst nicht in den Aether steigV I have 
 quoted this wonderful sentence in the original Ger- 
 man, but it may be roughly translated : ' Still, I do 
 not know if ever they arrive at the sigh, without
 
 62 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 which the aroma of the art does not ascend into 
 space.' Dr. E. Becker, for so many years librarian 
 to H.M. Queen Victoria, was with me on that occasion, 
 and immediately wrote down the sentence in his 
 pocket-book. We never understood it, but felt it was 
 worth preserving. 
 
 At Bayreuth, in 1876, during one of the welcome 
 entr'actes, we met in the open air, he being sur- 
 rounded by a crowd of admirers. It was then that 
 he alluded to the pleasant evenings in Paris, ex- 
 pressed how gratified he was that I, too, had 
 come all the way from England to hear his works, 
 and ended by saying emphatically, ' You see, my 
 dear Halle, I shall make Bayreuth the centre of civi- 
 lisation.' ' A noble aim, my dear master,' was my 
 answer. We never met ao-ain. 
 
 To return to 1838, a year so rich to me in remi- 
 niscences. I must say a few words about a man, in 
 his way the most remarkable of his time, Paganini. 
 He was one of the wonders of the world to me, so 
 much had I read and heard about him, and I deeply 
 deplored that he had given up public playing, and — 
 so I was told — even chose his lodgings so that the 
 sound of his violin could not be heard outside. The 
 striking, awe-inspiring, ghost-like figure of Paganini 
 was to be seen nearly every afternoon in the music 
 shop of Bernard Latte, Passage de i'Opera, where he 
 sat for an hour, enveloped in a long cloak, taking 
 notice of nobody, and hardly ever raising his piercing 
 black eyes. He was one of the sights of Paris, and 
 I had often gone to stare at him with wonder until a
 
 PAGAHINI 03 
 
 friend introduced me to him, and lie invited me to visit 
 him, an invitation I accepted most eagerly. I went 
 often, but it would be difficult to relate a single con- 
 versation we had together. He sat there, taciturn, 
 rigid, hardly ever moving a muscle of his face, and I 
 sat spellbound, a shudder running through me when- 
 ever his uncanny eyes fell upon me. He made me 
 play to him often, mostly by pointing with his bony 
 hand to the piano without speaking, and I could only 
 guess from his repeating the ceremony that he did 
 not dislike it, for never a word of encouragement fell 
 from his lips. How I longed to hear him play it is 
 impossible to describe, perhaps even to imagine. 
 From my earliest childhood I had heard of Paganini 
 and his art as of something supernatural, and there I 
 actually sat opposite to the man himself, but only look- 
 ing at the hands that had created such wonders. On 
 one never-to-be-forgotten occasion, after I had played 
 and we had enjoyed a long silence, Paganini rose and 
 approached his violin-case. What then passed in me 
 can hardly be imagined ; I was all in a tremble, and 
 my heart thumped as if it would burst my chest ; in 
 fact, no young swain going to the first rendezvous 
 with his beloved could possibly feel more violent 
 emotions. Paganini opened the case, took the violin 
 out, and began to tune it carefully with his fingers 
 without using the bow ; my agitation became almost 
 intolerable. When he was satisfied, and I said to 
 myself, with a lump in my throat, ' Now, now, he'll 
 take the bow ! ' he carefully put the violin back and 
 shut the case. And that is how I heard Paganini.
 
 C4 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES I1ALLE 
 
 The most important friendship I formed at that 
 time (or it may have been at the end of 1837) was 
 that with Hector Berlioz — ' le vaillant Hector,' as 
 he was often called — whose powerful dominating 
 personality I was glad to recognise. How I made 
 his acquaintance is now a mystery to me — it seems 
 as if I had always known him — I also wonder 
 often how it was he showed such interest in an 
 artist of so little importance as I then was ; he was 
 so kind to me, and, in fact, became my friend. Per- 
 haps it was because we could both speak with the 
 same enthusiasm of Beethoven, Gluck, Weber, even 
 Spont ini, and, perhaps, not less because he felt that 
 I had a genuine admiration for his own works. 
 There never lived a musician who adored his art 
 more than did Berlioz ; he was, indeed, ' enthusiasm 
 personified.' To hear him speak of, or rave about, 
 a real chef dceuvre, such as ' Armida,' ' Iphigenia,' 
 or the C Minor Symphony, the pitch of his voice 
 rising higher and higher as he talked, was worth 
 any performance of the same. And what a pic- 
 ture he was at the head of his orchestra, with his 
 eagle face, his bushy hair, his air of command, and 
 glowing with enthusiasm. He was the most perfect 
 conductor that I ever set eyes upon, one who held 
 absolute sway over his troops, and played upon them 
 as a pianist upon the keyboard. But discussion 
 about his genius and his works is superfluous at the 
 present time ; even his life is so thoroughly known 
 that I need only relate of him what has come under 
 my personal knowledge.
 
 BERLIOZ'S LIMITATIONS 65 
 
 He also came often to ray humble lodgings, and 
 I must say that his visits to me were more frequent 
 than mine to him ; for even at that time Madame 
 Berlioz, the once charming and poetic Ophelia, had 
 become somewhat repellent, and it was impossible to 
 imagine her acting or anybody falling in love with 
 her. To her honour it must, however, be said that 
 she upheld Berlioz in his hardest struggles, always 
 ready to endure the greatest privations when it was 
 a question for him to save money enough for the 
 organisation of a concert on a large scale, concerts 
 which seldom left any profit. I had the pleasure of 
 introducing him to Stephen Heller, who soon won his 
 esteem, and remained on friendly terms with him 
 until his death. Berlioz was no executant upon any 
 instrument (for being able to strum a few chords on 
 the guitar does not count), and he was painfully 
 aware how much this was a hindrance to him, and to 
 his knowledge of musical literature, which, indeed, 
 was limited. I was often astonished to find that 
 works, familiar to every pianist, were unknown to 
 him ; not merely works written for the piano, such 
 as Beethoven's sonatas, of which he knew but few, 
 but also orchestral works, oratorios, &c, known to 
 the pianist through arrangements, but of which he 
 had not chanced to see a score. Perhaps many un- 
 doubted crudities in his works would have been 
 eliminated had he been able to hear them before 
 committing them to paper, for I had several proofs 
 that the eye alone was not sufficient to give him a 
 clear idea of the effect of his musical combinations. 
 
 F
 
 C6 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Thus at the time when he scored Weber's ' Invitation 
 a la Valse ' for the orchestra, he made me play it to 
 him, and when I had come to the point where, after 
 the digression into C major, the theme is resumed in 
 the original key, D flat, he interrupted me with the 
 words, 'Apres tout, cela va,' confessing that from 
 the perusal of the piece he had thought the modula- 
 tion too harsh, and almost impossible. On another 
 occasion, much later, he arrived at my house and 
 eagerly told me he had found a new cadence to end 
 a movement with. ' The last chord,' he said, ' is the 
 chord of G major, and I precede it by the one in B 
 minor.' When I told him there were hundreds of 
 examples of such an ending, he would not believe me, 
 and was greatly astonished when we searched for and 
 found them. 
 
 In some of the most interesting moments of 
 Berlioz's musical career in Paris I had the privilege 
 of being with him. Thus on December 5, 1837, 1 
 went with him to the Hotel des Invalides to witness 
 the first performance of his ' Eequiem,' and was, 
 therefore, an eye-witness of what took place on that 
 occasion. Habeneck, after Berlioz the most accom- 
 plished chef dorchestre in Paris, conducted by rights, 
 and Berlioz sat in a chair near him. Habeneck, who 
 conducted not only the Grand Opera but also the 
 ' Concerts du Conservatoire,' had the habit of now and 
 then putting his conducting stick down and listening 
 complacently to the performance of his orchestra. 
 It was, therefore, perhaps force of habit that made 
 him discard the baton at the commencement of the
 
 HABENECK'S PINCH OF SNUFF 07 
 
 ' Tuba minim,' this time not to listen, but leisurely 
 to take a pinch of snuff! To my amazement I sud- 
 denly saw Berlioz standing in Habeneck's place and 
 wielding the baton to the end of the movement. The 
 moment had been a most critical one, four groups of 
 brass instruments, stationed at the four corners of 
 the large orchestra, which with the chorus was placed 
 under the dome in the centre of the building, having 
 to enter successively, and, without Berlioz's determi- 
 nation, disaster must have ensued, thanks to the un- 
 fortunate pinch of snuff. Habeneck, after the per- 
 formance, thanked Berlioz profusely for his timely 
 aid, and admitted that his own thoughtlessness might 
 have caused a break-down, but Berlioz remained 
 persuaded that there had been no thoughtlessness, 
 and that the break-down was intended. I could not 
 believe this, for the simple reason that when such a 
 thing occurs it is always the conductor on whose 
 shoulders the blame of the break-down is laid, and 
 most deservedly so ; it is, therefore, most unlikely 
 that he should himself try to provoke one. The 
 effect of the ' Eequiem,' and especially of the ' Tuba 
 mirum,' was so overpowering that I have never dared 
 to produce it in England, where it has been my joy 
 to conduct so many of Berlioz's works ; the placing of 
 four orchestras at the corners of the principal one is 
 impossible in our concert rooms, and I consider it in- 
 dispensable for the due effect of the movement and 
 the carrying out of the composer's intention. 
 
 Of his perfect command over the orchestra, 
 Berlioz gave an extraordinary proof on the occasion
 
 68 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 of a Grand concert given by him a few years later in 
 the ' Cirque Franconi.' There had been a very long 
 rehearsal in the morning, at which I was present, as I 
 had to play Beethoven's G major concerto, then very 
 seldom performed. After some hours' hard work 
 Berlioz dismissed the orchestra; I remained with 
 him, and hardly had the last member of the band 
 vanished when Berlioz struck his forehead, exclaim- 
 ing : ' I have forgotten the overture ! ' He stood 
 speechless for a few minutes, then said with deter- 
 mination : * It shall go nevertheless.' Now this over- 
 ture was the one to ' Le Carneval Eomain,' to be 
 performed that evening for the first time, and never 
 rehearsed. Musicians who know the work, with its 
 complicated rhythm and all its intricacies, will easily 
 understand how bold the venture was, and will 
 wonder that it could be successful. But to see 
 Berlioz during that performance was a sight never to 
 be forgotten. He watched over every single member 
 of the huge band ; his beat was so decisive, his indi- 
 cation of all the nuances so clear and so unmis- 
 takable, that the overture went smoothly, and no 
 uninitiated person could guess at the absence of a 
 rehearsal. This absolute command over the orchestra 
 I had already admired during the preparations for the 
 first production of his 'Borneo and Juliet ' in 1839, 
 which took a long time, but resulted in a magnificent 
 performance, stirring the public to enthusiasm. His 
 own public I mean ; totally distinct from the general 
 one, which did not appreciate or understand his 
 music. Berlioz had at all times a not inconsiderable
 
 ARMAND BERTIN'S GENEROSITY GO 
 
 number of devoted followers, who made up in zeal 
 and admiration for their want of numbers, and to 
 whom he was warmly and somewhat gratefully 
 attached. The indifference shown by the crowd, and 
 even by many musicians, towards his works he felt 
 deeply, although he tried to make light of it, and 
 any real success, however temporal}', was eagerly 
 welcomed, and brightened up his life for a while. 
 So the well-known Paganini incident of the previous 
 year had strengthened his courage for a long time, 
 and from a morose made him a most cheerful com- 
 panion. But thereby hangs a tale which, as all the 
 actors in it are gone to their rest, may be divulged 
 without inconvenience. Armand Bertin, the wealthy 
 and distinguished proprietor of the ' Journal des 
 Debats,' had a high regard for Berlioz and knew of 
 all his struggles, which he, Bertin, was anxious to 
 lighten. He resolved therefore to make him a 
 present of 20,000 fr., and in order to enhance the 
 moral effect of this gift he persuaded Paganini to 
 appear as the donor of the money. How well Bertin 
 had judged was proved immediately; what would 
 have been a simple gracieusete from a rich and 
 powerful editor towards one of his staff became a 
 significant tribute from one genius to another, and 
 had a colossal retentissement. The secret was well 
 kept and never divulged to Berlioz. It was known, 
 I believe, to but two of Bertin's friends besides my- 
 self, one of whom is Mottez, the celebrated painter ; 
 I learned it about seven years later when I had 
 become an intimate friend of the house, and Madame
 
 70 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Armand Bertin had been for years one of my best 
 pupils. 
 
 It was in the year 1840 that I overcame my 
 scruples, and, emerging from my long retirement, 
 gave my first public concert in the ' Salle Erard.' 
 Alard and Franchomme assisted me, and the pro- 
 gramme opened with Beethoven's trio in B flat. I 
 had hardly played a few bars when I noticed that 
 the pedals had been unhinged and would not act. 
 There was no help for it, and I had to play to the 
 end of the trio without them, after which a few 
 minutes sufficed to set matters right. The con- 
 sequence of this untoward accident was that all the 
 critics praised me for my judicious and sparing use 
 of the loud pedal, and this reputation clung to me in 
 Paris ever afterwards, although undeservedly so. I 
 was much flattered to see Liszt, Chopin, and Meyer- 
 beer amongst the audience, and felt deeply grateful 
 to them for thus encouraging a young artist on his 
 debut. The concert was successful, and from that 
 moment my public appearances multiplied, my name 
 became known, and the number of my pupils in- 
 creased constantly, so that in 1841 I felt justified 
 in marrying, and once more the number 11 became 
 of significance in my life ; for I was twice 11 years 
 old, and married on the 11th of the 11th month of 
 the year. My wife, nee Desiree Smith de Eilieu, 
 was born at New Orleans, and had been residing 
 for some years in Paris with her mother, a widow. 
 Madame Smith had a negro servant, formerly one of 
 her slaves, who had followed her to France, and was
 
 ACQUAINTANCE WITH MENDELSSOHN 71 
 
 much attached to her. It was customary in Paris to 
 give a party, a ball generally, to the friends of the 
 bride and bridegroom on the eve of the wedding, a 
 custom which we followed. Madame Smith's con- 
 fidential servant had been instructed to engage a 
 number of day-waiters for the occasion, and great 
 was my consternation when at the proper moment 
 the ices were brought in by ten waiters — all grinning 
 niggers ! 
 
 In the summer of 1842 I made a short concert 
 tour through Germany, playing at Wiesbaden, 
 Mayence, Frankfort, Darmstadt, and other towns. 
 At Frankfort I had the happiness to meet Men- 
 delssohn, and to spend a few weeks closely associated 
 with him and rich in musical delight. At the con 
 cert I gave, he and Hiller played with me Bach's 
 triple concerto in D minor, and at Hiller 's house, 
 where we usually met, I became acquainted with 
 the Scotch symphony, then unpublished, of which he 
 had just finished the admirable arrangement as a 
 pianoforte duet, which we played over and over 
 again from the manuscript. There I heard also for 
 the first time his ' Variations Serieuses,' and some of 
 the then unpublished ' Lieder ohne Worte,' amongst 
 them the now so popular ' Frilhlingslied.' Men- 
 delssohn's playing was not exactly that of a ' virtuoso,' 
 not to be compared with that of Liszt or Thalberg 
 (he himself called it ' en gros spielen '), but it was 
 remarkably perfect, and one felt the great musician, 
 the great composer, in every bar he played. He was 
 also a great organist, and I had the privilege of
 
 72 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 hearing him improvise, and also play two of his fine 
 organ sonatas. The greatest treat, however, was to 
 sit with him at the piano and listen to innumerable 
 fragments from half-forgotten beautiful works by 
 Cherubini, Gluck, Bach, Palestrina, Marcello, ' tutti 
 quanti.' It was only enough to mention one of them, 
 whether it was a Gloria from one of Cherubini's 
 Masses or a psalm by Marcello, to hear it played to 
 perfection, until I came to the conclusion that he 
 knew every bar of music ever written, and, what was 
 more, could reproduce it immediately. One morning 
 Hiller and I were playing together one of Bach's 
 organ pieces on the piano, one of no particular 
 interest, but which we wished to know better. When 
 .we were in the middle of it, a part hardly to be dis- 
 tinguished from many other similar ones, the door 
 opened, Mendelssohn entered, and, without inter- 
 rupting us, rose on tip-toes, and with his up-lifted 
 finger pointed significantly at the next bar which 
 was coming and contained an unexpected and strik- 
 ing modulation. So from hearing through the door 
 a bar or two of a — for Bach — somewhat common- 
 place piece, he not only recognised it at once, but 
 knew the exact place we had arrived at, and what 
 was to follow in the next bar, a most surprising proof 
 of intimate knowledge. His memory was indeed pro- 
 digious. It is well known that when he revived 
 c 
 
 Bach's ' Passion Music,' and conducted the first per- 
 formance of that immortal work after it had been 
 dormant for about a century, he found, stepping to 
 the conductor's desk, that a score similar in binding
 
 CONDUCTING WITHOUT SmiiK 1 3 
 
 and thickness, but of another work, had been brought 
 by mistake. He conducted this amazingly com- 
 plicated work by heart, turning leaf after leaf of the 
 book he had before him, in order not to create any 
 feeling of uneasiness on the part of the executants. 
 
 Mendelssohn, and certainly Berlioz, would have 
 been amazed if they had witnessed the modern craze 
 for conducting without the score ; they never did so, 
 even with their own works, which certainly they must 
 have known better than anybody else. There can be 
 no possible advantage in dispensing with the score, a 
 jdance a t which shows to the conductor the whole 
 instrumentation, and enables him to watch over every 
 detail of the execution, and over the entries of the 
 most secondary instruments. No conductor could 
 write by heart twenty pages of the full score of a 
 symphony, or other work, exactly with the instru- 
 mentation of the composer (perhaps the composer 
 himself could not do it) ; he must therefore remain 
 ignorant whilst conducting, of what the minor instru- 
 ments, say the second clarinet, second bassoon, second 
 flute, and many others, have to do — a serious dis- 
 advantage. The public who go into ecstasies over 
 ' conducting by heart ' do not know how very easy 
 it is, how much easier, for instance, than playing a 
 concerto or a sonata by heart, at which nobody 
 wonders. Without the score the conductor has only 
 to be acquainted with the general outline of the com- 
 position and its salient features ; then, the better the 
 band the easier the task of its chief. 
 
 But to return to Frankfort. The few weeks spent
 
 74 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 there in the intimacy of Mendelssohn and Hiller are 
 amongst the most precious, the most interesting, I 
 have ever lived, and are engraved in my memory 
 with a point of gold. I never met Mendelssohn again. 
 On a renewed visit to Frankfort in the autumn of 
 1843 I received an invitation to play at Darmstadt 
 before the Grand Duke of Hesse, and I was delighted 
 to see my dear old master, Einck, again on the same 
 occasion. Coming to the castle on the appointed 
 evening I was ushered into the still untenanted music- 
 room, where after a time I was joined by a gentle- 
 man in simple evening dress who entertained me 
 most politely, telling me that the Grand Ducal party, 
 which included the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar, 
 would soon appear. I took my informant for one of 
 the gentlemen of the Court, and as he was so very 
 amiable I asked him to be kind enough to point out 
 to me the different distinguished personages, who, I 
 said, would probably be familiar to him by sight, but 
 were not so to me. He promised most willingly to 
 do so, and it gave me rather a start when I found 
 half-an-hour later that my kind cicerone was the 
 celebrated Prince Alexander of Hesse. The party 
 was a small one, and listened to my performance 
 with a willing ear. What has impressed the evening 
 upon my memory is the circumstance that while I 
 was playing, a despatch was 'brought in announcing 
 the birth of a son to the Crown Princess of Russia (a 
 Princess of Hesse Darmstadt), which caused such 
 joy that the two Grand Dukes not only embraced, 
 but in spite of their bulky persons, which hardly
 
 A NOISY APARTMENT 75 
 
 permitted their short arms to reach each other, 
 waltzed together through the long and almost empty 
 room. It was a touching but curious spectacle. After 
 half an hour's interruption I was allowed to continue 
 my performance. The next day I had the honour of 
 being received by Prince Alexander at his own villa, 
 and could explain my bivue of the previous evening. 
 During the few months my wife and I spent in 
 Germany, having before our departure given notice 
 to quit the rooms in the Eue de l'Arcade, in Paris, 
 with which we were dissatisfied, a cousin of my wife's, 
 the Comtesse de Eochefort, proposed we should take 
 the rooms which she occupied in the Eue Blanche, 
 as she was leaving for the south of France. I had 
 been often at her evening parties, knew the rooms 
 perfectly, which were most convenient, and we struck 
 the bargain at once. Great was my consternation 
 when, on arriving in September at these much 
 coveted rooms, I found that the building opposite 
 was the Gymnase Musical Militaire, from which 
 nearly all the regimental bands were recruited, and 
 in which hundreds of young men practised the whole 
 day long with open windows, weather permitting, all 
 the wind instruments ever invented, all at the same 
 time, every man in his own key, and doing his own 
 exercises. No more infernal noise can be imagined 
 and I was in despair, but I had signed a short lease 
 and we were obliged to remain where we were ; and 
 such is the force of habit, that after a few months I 
 was no longer disturbed by the abominable neighbour- 
 hood, and could even give my lessons in peace.
 
 76 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 There was one thing, however, which was im- 
 possible, viz., to have musical afternoons on Sundays. 
 Our friends could not have enjoyed them, for Sunday 
 was no day of rest for the poor ' piou-pious ' opposite ; 
 they had to practise till six in the evening as on 
 week-days. I therefore ventured to call upon the 
 director of the Gymnase, the whilom celebrated 
 Italian composer, Carafa, stated my case to him, and 
 induced him, not without trouble, on a certain 
 number of Sundays during the season to stop all 
 practice from three o'clock in the afternoon, much to 
 the relief of the overworked pupils, who were always 
 anxious to give me proofs of their gratitude. Indeed, 
 once, when a fire had broken out in our kitchen, they 
 swarmed into the house, extinguished it, and in their 
 zeal did much more mischief than the fire could have 
 done. These musical afternoons became gradually more 
 and more important, and it was there that, timidly at 
 first, I tried to win acceptance for some of Beetho- 
 ven's pianoforte works ; for, with the exception of 
 two trios, the Kreutzer and the so-called 'Moonlight' 
 sonata, none were known to other than a few earnest 
 students. A great attraction was the exquisite sing- 
 ing, or rather declaiming, of Delsarte, a most extra- 
 ordinary artist whose dramatic power I have never 
 heard equalled. His voice was far from fine, being 
 rather disagreeable, but it was immediately forgotten 
 after the first few notes, and he held his hearers spell- 
 bound. I shall never forget the impression he 
 created when singing Gluck's beautiful air : ' Cruelle, 
 non, jamais ton cceur ne fut touche par mes alarmes.'
 
 A GALAXY OF TALENT 77 
 
 It was indescribable. Every syllable told, and the 
 accents of despair were irresistible and inimitable. 
 He sang at nearly every one of my matinees, for 
 which I owe him a debt of gratitude. Lamartine, 
 Odillon Barrot, Ledru Rollin, and Salvandy, who 
 heard him at my house, each one complimented 
 him in the same words: 'Monsieur, vous etes un 
 grand orateur,' of which he complained to me 
 with perhaps pardonable pride by saying, 'These 
 gentlemen think there is nothing above an orator.' 
 Delsarte died in a monastery, for which, at the time I 
 knew him intimately, he certainly seemed to have no 
 vocation. 
 
 My life at this time became one of uninterrupted 
 intellectual enjoyment, which will be easily under- 
 stood by my readers when I enumerate a few of the 
 names of distinguished men, in the most various 
 walks of life, whom I could call personal friends : 
 Ary SchefFer, Lamartine, Salvandy, Ledru Rollin, 
 Alexandre Dumas pkre, Ingres, Meyerbeer, Halevv, 
 Delacroix, Louis Blanc, Guizot, ' Maitre ' Marie, not 
 to forget Berlioz, Heller, Heine, Ernst, Jules Janin, 
 Liszt, Chopin, and a host of others equally remark- 
 able. Paris was then in reality what Wagner wished 
 to make Bayreuth, the centre of civilisation ; and 
 such a galaxy of celebrities as it contained has, I 
 believe, never been assembled again. The charm 
 of Parisian life at that period was that in certain 
 ' salons,' on fixed evenings in the week, most of these 
 ' mighty ones ' were to be met. 
 
 Such a ' salon ' was that of Armand Bertin,
 
 /8 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES IIALLE 
 
 made delightful as much by the charm of his wife as 
 by his own intellectual power. It was there that I 
 often met M. Ingres, and had the honour of playing 
 some of Mozart's violin sonatas with him. Great 
 artist as he was, with an immense reputation, he 
 thought less of his painting than of his violin playing, 
 which, to say the least of it, was vile. He generally 
 was so moved by any Andante we played together, 
 that he shed copious tears, and he drew them also 
 from the eyes of his listeners, but they were not 
 tears of delight. His immense superiority as an 
 artist made this little weakness very interesting. An 
 amusing incident occurred when, after his return 
 from Eome, where he had been for years the director 
 of the French ' Academie,' a grand dinner was given 
 him, as a welcome, in the Salle Ventadour, at which 
 every notability in Paris was present. After the 
 speech in his honour, pronounced by whom I cannot 
 remember, and received with uproarious enthusiasm, 
 Ingres rose and returned thanks, and after wiping his 
 spectacles, wet with tears as usual, he drew a paper 
 from his pocket, adjusted it to the light, and the first 
 words he read were : i Les acclamations que je viens 
 d'entendre.' It seemed odd and ' naif that the words 
 should have been written before the cheers were 
 heard. 
 
 Ingres was passionately fond of music — a passion 
 shared by nearly all the great painters with whom I 
 have come in contact — while amongst poets and 
 literary men the devotees to music seem to form an 
 exception. Ary Schefier, the noble painter whose
 
 FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND 79 
 
 fame was at its zenith in the forties, was never 
 happier than when listening to music ; hence his 
 friendship with Chopin, Liszt, and a select number of 
 musicians amongst whom I was happy to hold a 
 place. To play to him in his studio, whilst he was 
 engaged upon one of his great canvases, was to me 
 one of my greatest delights. The well-known picture 
 of ' Christ tempted by Satan ' (Liszt sitting as a 
 model for Satan) was commenced and iinished with 
 the accompaniment of my music. SchefFer's works 
 no longer hold the position in the world of art which 
 they held at that time — a time when they were sought 
 for, in England especially, with avidity; he knew 
 this, and on one occasion, speaking of this popularity, 
 he added musingly, after a moment's silence, ' Cela 
 me donne a penser.' 
 
 In 1843 I made my first acquaintance with Eng- 
 land, a very unsatisfactory one as it proved. Un- 
 announced, I came over in the middle of the season 
 on the invitation, principally, of one English friend, 
 Mr. Fitzherbert, whom I had known for years in 
 Paris. My name was not sufficiently known to open 
 the doors of the big institutions to me at once ; still, 
 I received an invitation from the directors of the Phil- 
 harmonic Society to play at their last concert, but 
 coupled with the condition that I should perform a 
 concerto by Griffin, one of the directors. This I 
 declined, and consequently did not play at all. I 
 took part in a concert given by Sivori, and gave a 
 concert in the Hanover Square rooms, at which Clara 
 Novello and Balfe sang, and Sivori played, but the
 
 80 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 success of which was indifferent. So, after a sojourn 
 of about eight weeks I returned to Paris, firmly 
 resolved to shun England for ever ! The short season 
 had, however, not been altogether uninteresting to 
 me, enlivened as it was by a dispute between Ernst 
 and Sivori on the subject of the authorship of ' Le 
 Carneval de Venise.' I was charmed to meet Sivori 
 in London, having made his acquaintance in the 
 previous year, and fully recognised his claims to dis- 
 tinction, in spite of the pompous title ' only pupil of 
 Paganini,' which he assumed. I was often with him 
 and glad of his society, when a few weeks later Ernst 
 arrived. He was fresh from a triumphant tour 
 through Holland and Belgium, and his coming was 
 expected with much curiosity. Ernst was an older 
 friend of mine than Sivori, as a musician he was far 
 his superior, our tastes were more similar, and I 
 naturally continued those friendly relations with him 
 which had so long been my wont. I did not mean to 
 neglect Sivori, but found to my surprise and sorrow 
 that he looked upon my conduct with regard to Ernst 
 as upon the worst of all betrayals. He had fully 
 expected that I should cut Ernst, whom he considered 
 his rival, and could not understand how I could 
 dream of being friends with both sides. I had indeed 
 dreamed of bringing them together, which would 
 have been a pleasure to Ernst ; but when I hinted at 
 this, the ire of Sivori knew no bounds, and I had to 
 make a selection between the two, much against my 
 will, but of course in favour of my old friend. Ernst 
 achieved a great success and a well deserved one, for
 
 ERNST AT RICHMOND 81 
 
 his talent was at its very height and his passionate 
 playing most impressive. I rejoiced at his triumph 
 all the more, as for a short time I had harboured 
 serious doubts on the subject, prompted by a curious 
 and somewhat ludicrous scene which I had witnessed 
 a few days after his arrival. 
 
 The directors of the Philharmonic Society had 
 decided upon feting Ernst on his arrival and arranged 
 a party at Richmond in his honour, which took the 
 shape of an early dinner. The day was very fine, the 
 company, including the principal critics, very nume- 
 rous, and the dinner sumptuous. Ernst had to respond 
 to many civilities, to empty his glass at the separate 
 request of each of the ' convives,' so often that at last 
 I saw that he was overcome, and feared that he might 
 roll under the table. It was at that critical moment 
 that somebody proposed Ernst should play something. 
 The proposal was cheered vociferously, and as Ernst's 
 violin did not dine out, some one was despatched into 
 the village to try and find one. He soon returned 
 with a violin, the price of which, with the bow, was 
 marked fifteen shillings. This was handed to Ernst, 
 and he gave the very first proof of his talent to a 
 select English audience by playing his arrangement 
 of Schubert's ' Erl King,' for violin alone, an impos- 
 sible piece, which in his best days he could not play 
 satisfactorily. Upon this wretched instrument and in 
 a more than half-tipsy condition, it was excruciating, 
 and I gave him up for lost ; but, whether it was that 
 his listeners were in the same state as he, or that the 
 extraordinary sounds they heard bewildered them, 
 
 G
 
 82 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 his triumph was complete ! What is more, after his 
 great and legitimate success, at a concert given on 
 July 18 in aid of the German Hospital, his first public 
 appearance in London, I heard it said with con- 
 viction, ' Ah, but his playing at Eichmond was even 
 finer!' The party was further enlivened by poor 
 half-blind George Macfarren running straight into 
 the Thames and having to be fished out, fortunately 
 without any hurt to him. 
 
 I had brought a few letters of introduction with 
 me, one of which was to a most amiable man, a mem- 
 ber of Parliament, who a few years later rose to a 
 high position in the Government. I had left the 
 letter at his house with my card, and he called upon 
 me the very next day, was charming, most kind, and 
 to my great satisfaction spoke French most fluently. 
 He knew from the letter it was my wish to be heard, 
 and as it so happened that he had a large evening- 
 party two days later, he proposed that I should play 
 a few pieces during the evening, saying that I should 
 meet many influential people, with whom I would 
 certainly be glad to make acquaintance. I accepted 
 readily. When he withdrew he turned back at the 
 door and said, ' Might I ask you in what style you 
 play ? ' I was puzzled and could not give a clear 
 answer. He next asked, ' Do you know Mr. 
 Alexander Dreyschock?' 'Yes,' I said, 'he is an 
 admirable and powerful pianist,' ' Do you play in 
 his style ? ' * No, I can conscientiously say that my 
 style differs from his.' ' Oh, I am so glad,' said my 
 friend, ' for he plays so loud, et cela empeche les dames
 
 MUSICAL TASTE IN 1848 83 
 
 de causer.' I meekly suggested that no music at all 
 might perhaps be more to the purpose, but he would 
 not hear of that, insisted upon my coming, and I did 
 go, played two pieces, and can give myself credit for 
 not having empeche les dames de causer, nor the gentle- 
 men either. This shows in what estimation music 
 was held in 1843 in the most fashionable society; the 
 change that has taken place since then is astounding. 
 Another of my letters of introduction was to 
 Count d'Orsay, the brilliant and eccentric roi des 
 modes. I drove to Kensington Gore, where he lived, 
 and after ringing the bell at the gate, a small side 
 door opened to give passage to the head of the 
 porter who inquired my business. I told him I had 
 a letter to deliver to Count d'Orsay, and at his request 
 gave it to him, together with my card. He then shut 
 the door, leaving me wondering in the street. About 
 ten minutes later the door opened again, I was 
 admitted and conducted through a long avenue to 
 the luxurious house, in which the Count received me 
 with the utmost politeness and grace. When after 
 half an hour I took my departure, he begged me to 
 renew my visit and to excuse him if he did not return 
 my call, as for various reasons he did not go out 
 much. It then dawned upon me that if he ventured 
 out he might possibly not re-enter the house for a 
 long time, and that for this reason such precautions 
 were used in admitting unknown visitors. I was 
 afterwards invited to several small evening parties 
 at Gore House, made delightful by Lady Blessing- 
 ton's grace and d'Orsay 's wit. Prince Napoleon was 
 
 G 2
 
 84- LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 generally one of the guests, but at that time only 
 interested me by his historical name, and I cannot 
 recollect anything characteristic connected with him. 
 In July I returned to Paris with Ernst, little satisfied 
 with England, and much less anticipating that it 
 would eventually become my home, my cherished 
 home. 
 
 Nothing of importance happened during the rest 
 of the year, and the circle of my acquaintance 
 extended further and further, the number of my 
 pupils increased steadily, and I had every reason to 
 be satisfied with my lot. My ambition, however, was 
 not entirely satisfied, for, although successful at my 
 own and many other concerts, I had not been invited 
 to play at the ' Concerts du Conservatoire,' which 
 then, even more than at present, was the highest 
 distinction to which an artist could aspire. I did not 
 venture to claim the honour for fear of a refusal, 
 which would have pained me. One evening, return- 
 ing on foot from a late party, as I was passing Eue 
 Taitbout I sang tolerably loud, there being no one 
 very near, the theme of the Finale of Beethoven's 
 Choral Symphony, which I had heard on the previous 
 Sunday at the Conservatoire. I had not noticed a 
 gentleman who was walking about five yards before 
 me in the same direction, and who, hearing me sing, 
 stopped when I came up to him, when I recognised the 
 redoubtable conductor of the ' Concerts du Conserva- 
 toire,' M. Habeneck, whose personal acquaintance I 
 had not made. He addressed me with, ' Ah, vous 
 chantez la neuvieme ? ' and on my replying with a
 
 BEETHOVEN FESTIVAL AT BONN 85 
 
 few enthusiastic expressions, he asked brusquely : 
 ' Who are you ? ' I gave my name, upon which he 
 shook hands with me, said he had heard often of my 
 doings, and to my surprise and delight ended with 
 the question : ' Why don't you play at our concerts ? ' 
 I explained frankly that I had not dared to apply for 
 such an honour ; and ' Call to-morrow and we will 
 arrange that,' was his welcome answer. And so I 
 played at the Conservatoire most unexpectedly in 
 1844, and had every reason to be satisfied with the 
 reception that was accorded to me. I had chosen 
 Beethoven's E flat concerto, nry interpretation of 
 which met with almost general approval. I say 
 ' almost ' because after the performance a much 
 respected member of the orchestra, Urhan, the prin- 
 cipal viola, apostrophised me with : * Why do you 
 change Beethoven ? ' I had not really changed any- 
 thing in the text, but, misled by the example of 
 Liszt, I used then for the sake of effect to play some 
 passages in octaves instead of in single notes, and 
 otherwise amplify certain passages. This Urhan did 
 not like, and his rebuke was well merited. I think 
 Liszt must have felt equal scruples, for when, on the 
 occasion of the unveiling of Beethoven's statue at 
 Bonn in August, 1845, he played the same concerto, 
 he adhered scrupulously to the text, and a finer and 
 grander reading of the work could not be imagined. 
 Urhan was a remarkable viola player, the best I ever 
 heard, and a singular character, very outspoken, as 
 his remark to me proves, and one of the most up- 
 right men that ever lived. He was of an extremely
 
 86 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 religious turn of mind, and accepted the position of 
 principal viola at the Grand Opera, which he held 
 for a long term of years, only on the condition that 
 his seat was to be so arranged that he might turn 
 his back upon the stage and avoid witnessing the 
 abominations of the ballet. The Beethoven festival 
 at Bonn, mentioned incidentally just now, to which 
 Berlioz and I journeyed together from Paris, drew 
 together a large number of the most notable musicians 
 from all countries, all anxious to do homage to the 
 memory of that incomparable genius. It was graced 
 by the presence of the King of Prussia and his guests, 
 Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort, who wit- 
 nessed from a royal box built purposely in the square 
 the unveiling of the statue, which, to the astonish- 
 ment of the multitude that surrounded it, was found 
 when the veil fell to turn its back upon the Eoyalties. 
 Liszt was the hero of the fete, and justly so, for 
 without his colossal exertions it would never have 
 taken place. He was seldom to be approached by 
 us, so great was the crowd of his admirers that 
 besieged him constantly ; but the occasional half 
 hours that he could spare to Berlioz and myself 
 were made memorable by the flashes of his eloquence 
 and his wit. His speech was indeed golden. At the 
 first concert he played us, however, an unpardonable 
 trick. For the opening of the programme he had 
 composed a cantata of considerable length, devoid of 
 interest, as the rehearsals had shown us, but which 
 we had resigned ourselves to listen to patiently, and 
 so we did. Hardly was it concluded, and we were
 
 ANECDOTES OF LISZT 87 
 
 preparing ourselves to enjoy Beethoven's music, when 
 the Royalties, who had been detained until then, 
 entered their box, and Liszt, to our dismay, began 
 the whole cantata over again, inflicting it a second 
 time on the immense audience, who, out of respect 
 for the crowned heads, had to endure it, though pro- 
 bably not without inward grumbling. One morning, 
 during this week of festivities, I found him alone, and 
 the conversation turning upon events and anecdotes 
 which had made the years from 1838 to 1846 
 memorable to both of us, he suddenly exclaimed, 
 4 Ah l'heureux temps ! oil Ton pouvait Otre si bete ! ' 
 He spoke feelingly, and I think rendered himself jus- 
 tice, for the things he could say and do during that 
 period when he was the best feted artist that perhaps 
 had ever lived bordered really on the ludicrous. 
 Thus, after his great triumphs in Germany, especially 
 in Berlin, where the ladies had fought for his gloves, 
 I heard him say at one of his receptions in Paris, the 
 name of the King of Prussia being mentioned : ' Le 
 roi a ete tres convenable ! ' To be different from the 
 rest of mankind, to know nothing of the usual modes 
 of living, or rather to appear ignorant of them, seemed 
 his one aim. Once, having accidentally met me on 
 the Boulevards, he asked me to dine with him at the 
 Cafe de Paris. We enjoyed a good but simple dinner, 
 and when the waiter brought him the bill, which could 
 hardly have amounted to 30 frs., he asked me quite 
 seriously if I thought 40 frs. for the waiter would be 
 sufficient! 'Je ne sais jamais ces choses,' he said, 
 and without my remonstrances he would have given
 
 88 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 to the waiter more than the whole dinner had cost. 
 Calling upon him one day I found him engaged with 
 his tailor, and busy looking at patterns for waist- 
 coats. ' I have at least sixty,' said he to me, ' but 
 never find one to my liking when I want it.' * What 
 do you say to this pattern ? ' he asked presently, and 
 on my approving of it he came out with 'Youlez- 
 vous que je vous en fasse faire un?' — a kind offer 
 which was declined with thanks. 
 
 One scene I witnessed characterises another side 
 of his behaviour at that time. The programme of 
 one of his concerts given in the * Salle du Conserva- 
 toire ' contained the ' Kreutzer ' sonata to be played 
 by Liszt and Massart, a celebrated and much 
 esteemed violinist, professor at the Conservatoire. 
 Massart was just commencing the first bar of the 
 introduction when a voice from the audience called 
 out ' Eobert le Diable ! ' At that time Liszt had com- 
 posed a very brilliant fantasia on themes from that 
 opera, and played it always with immense success. 
 The call was taken up by other voices, and in a 
 moment the cries ' Eobert le Diable ! ' ' Eobert le 
 Diable ! ' drowned the tones of the violin. Liszt rose, 
 bowed, and said: ' Je suis toujoursl'lmmble serviteur 
 du public, mais est-ce qu'on desire la fantaisie avant 
 ou apres la sonate ? ' Eenewed cries of ' Eobert, 
 Eobert ! ' were the answer, upon which Liszt turned 
 half round to poor Massart and dismissed him with a 
 wave of the hand, without a syllable of excuse or 
 regret. He did play the fantasia magnificently, 
 rousing the public to a frenzy of enthusiasm, then
 
 A DUET WIT1I LISZT 89 
 
 called Massart out of his retreat, and we had the 
 ■ Kreutzer,' which somehow no longer seemed in its 
 right place. On another occasion, at a concert given 
 for the benefit of the Polish refugees at the house of 
 Princess Czartoriska, he did me the honour to ask 
 me to play a duet for two pianos with him, and chose 
 Thalberg's well-known ' Fantasia ' on ' Norma.' We 
 had no rehearsal, but he said to me : ' Let us take the 
 theme of the variations at a moderate pace, the effect 
 will be better.' Now the first part of this theme is 
 accompanied on the second piano (which Liszt had 
 chosen) by octaves for both hands, which octaves in 
 the second part fall to the lot of the first piano. 
 What was my horror when, in spite of the caution 
 he had given me, Liszt started his octaves at such a 
 pace that I did not conceive the possibility of getting 
 through my portion of them alive. Somehow I 
 managed it, badly enough, but if I ever understood 
 the French saying ' suer sang et eau ' it was then. I 
 had my revenge, however. In the second variation, 
 where the pianos successively accompany the theme 
 with chromatic scales, Liszt, instead of confining him- 
 self to the scales, altered them by introducing double 
 and additional notes, a feat of amazing difficulty, 
 which made my hair stand on end, but which I did 
 not feel compelled to try and imitate, simple chro- 
 matic scales neatly and rapidly played being, on the 
 whole, more effective ; so when my turn came I con- 
 fined myself to them, and earned a round of applause 
 in which Liszt most generously joined. 
 
 Of his ready wit the following little anecdote,
 
 90 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 hardly known I believe, may serve as an example. 
 A choral society of amateurs had been formed in 
 Paris under his direction, most of the members belong- 
 ing to the highest aristocracy. At the rehearsals 
 Princess Belgiojoso, an accomplished musician, ac- 
 companied on the piano. As an accompanist she 
 had, however, serious faults, for she took great liber- 
 ties with the time, treating what she had to play as 
 if it had been a ' Nocturne ' or ' Ballade ' by Chopin, 
 her admired master. During one of these rehearsals, 
 at which I was present by invitation, a young Ger- 
 man tenor, not perfectly at home in the French 
 tongue, complained of these liberties by muttering 
 in a low voice at first, but which grew louder and 
 louder : ' II n'y a pas de tact, il n'y a pas de tact,'' 
 evidently under the impression that the German word 
 6 takt ' had the same meaning in French. After a 
 while Liszt corrected him by saying : ' Monsieur, 
 Madame la Princesse manque de 7nesure, mais vous 
 manquez de tact.' 
 
 Of the years between 1843 and 1847 it only 
 remains to relate that in 1843 I had the honour 
 of being commanded to play at the Chateau 
 d'Eu on the occasion of the visit of H.M. Queen 
 Victoria and Prince Albert to Louis Philippe. The 
 orchestra and chorus of the Conservatoire had also 
 been summoned, and Auber was director of the 
 music in general. On the entrance, on Louis 
 Philippe's arm, of Queen Victoria into the music- 
 room, she was most appropriately greeted with the
 
 CHAMBER CONCERTS IN PARIS 91 
 
 beautiful chorus from Gluck's ' Iphigenie en Aulide,' 
 commencing * Que de grace, que de majestoV Those 
 were brilliant days, favoured by the most beautiful 
 weather. One incident connected with my trip to 
 Eu was very original. I learnt, one day before the 
 concert at which I was to play, that there was no 
 piano at the chateau fit to be used on such an occa- 
 sion, and I had to send one from Paris. But how to 
 send it? That was the question. There was not 
 time for the usual mode of conveyance, so I went to 
 the office of the diligence, where the mention of a 
 grand piano by Erard as part of my luggage was at 
 first received with derisive laughter. But the magical 
 words ' Par ordre du roi ' overcame the difficulty, 
 and the piano was stowed on the top of the huge 
 diligence, the only instance on record, I believe, of 
 a pianist travelling in the same carriage with his 
 instrument. 
 
 The year 1847 forms an epoch in my musical life. 
 I had then long been prominently before the public, 
 and felt strong enough to venture upon the institution 
 of a series of ' concerts de musique de chambre,' never 
 before tried in Paris. In Alard and Franchomme, the 
 two foremost performers on the violin and violoncello, 
 admirable artists both, I found willing, even enthusi- 
 astic, colleagues. The ' Salle du Conservatoire ' was 
 granted us, and in February 1847 we gave our first 
 concert, before an audience which included the very 
 elite of Parisian artistic and literary society. Lamar- 
 tine, George Sand, Horace Vernet, Ary Scheffer, 
 Guizot, Salvandy, Ledru Eollin, Marie, Alexandre
 
 92 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Dumas, and many others equally celebrated, tilled 
 the boxes as subscribers. I was well aware of the 
 progress the taste for good music had made during 
 the last decade. Still, the success of these concerts, 
 purely instrumental ones, surpassed my most sanguine 
 expectations. Soon it became almost as difficult to 
 obtain tickets for them as for the great concerts of the 
 Conservatoire ; in fact, we scored a great success. 
 The programmes consisted exclusively of ensemble 
 music, from duets to quintets, Armingand holding the 
 post of second violin, and Casimir Nery that of viola. 
 The preparation for the concerts was a labour of love 
 for us all, and rehearsals took place every day while 
 the series lasted. It seems strange to me now, writing 
 in 1895, that so many universally-known works like 
 Mendelssohn's trios, Schumann's quintet and quartet, 
 had then the charm of absolute novelty. This first 
 season having been so eminently successful, the an- 
 nouncement of the second in 1848 drew together a 
 still greater number of subscribers, so that every place 
 was disposed of before the first concert, which took 
 place at the commencement of February. 
 
 Two concerts had been given when the Kevolution 
 broke out, and to me everything was changed as by 
 magic. In Paris by far the greatest part of a musi- 
 cian's income was invariably derived from teaching ; 
 so it was with Chopin, Heller, many others, and my- 
 self ; but from the day after the Revolution the pupils 
 disappeared, and at the end of a week I could only 
 boast of one (he was an old Englishman), and my 
 friends Alard and Franchomme had none left. The
 
 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848 93 
 
 audience at our third concert did not number fifty 
 people, although every place was subscribed for. The 
 outlook was most gloomy and I realised soon that a 
 serious crisis had arrived in my life, and that an im- 
 mediate determination had to be taken for the sake of 
 my family, which consisted then of my wife and two 
 small children. What determination it was to be I 
 could not at once decide, but I felt that I must be 
 free, and resolved therefore to abandon the remaining 
 five concerts of the series, my colleagues concurring 
 readily. We announced that the money would be 
 returned, and on the very day that the announcement 
 appeared my house was literally besieged from morn- 
 ing to evening by eager applicants, money being for 
 a while so scarce that daily processions of people were 
 seen going to the mint to exchange their silver valu- 
 ables for ready cash. 
 
 Of the Eevolution itself I can only relate what I 
 saw with my own eyes, and that is very little, although 
 at one moment my life was in danger, viz. on the eve 
 of the Eevolution, when nothing serious was expected. 
 I had gone with a friend (M. Guibert) to look at the 
 crowds on the Boulevards, and found that the Foreign 
 Office on the Boulevard des Capucines was guarded 
 by a carve of military, which obliged us to pass through 
 the Eue Basse des Eemparts, having the soldiers some 
 10 or 12 feet above our heads. This street was 
 densely crowded and we advanced very slowly, when 
 suddenly, without any warning, we were fired into 
 with terrible effect, a woman close by my side and a 
 child within my reach being both shot dead. The
 
 94 LIFE OF SIR CIIAKLES HALLE 
 
 surprise "was dreadful, and Boulevard and street were 
 cleared in an instant. I reached my house without 
 accident, meeting only flying people, and intensely 
 enjoyed the feeling of safety. We lived then at the 
 corner of the Place St. Georges, a circular place into 
 which four streets lead. The next morning, between 
 five and six o'clock, I was awakened by a singular 
 noise under our windows, and, stepping upon the 
 balcony, I saw that the four streets had been barri- 
 caded and that all communication between the Place 
 St. Georges and the rest of the world had been cut 
 off. The barricades were manned by a set of ill- 
 looking, hirsute people, armed with antediluvian 
 weapons. The construction of the barricades not 
 being finished yet, the mob paid small attention to 
 the inhabitants of the houses that surrounded the 
 Place. A little later, however, when stepping a second 
 time on to the balcony, I saw Madame Thiers come 
 out of her house in a loose dressing-gown, carrying 
 several guns and handing them to the insurgents, 
 with whom M. Thiers, as leader of the Opposition and 
 credited with Eepublican tendencies, stood in high 
 favour. As I had the advantage of a slight acquaint- 
 ance with M. and Mine. Thiers, whose house was 
 the second from the one in which I lived with my 
 family, I descended quickly and approached her, to 
 compare notes, not a little pleased to put myself ap- 
 parently under her protection and thereby to gain 
 some respect from our ruffian captors. But there was 
 little to fear from them, as it proved. They asked 
 for arms, of which I had none to give, and for wine,
 
 FLIGHT OF LOUIS PHILIPPE 90 
 
 •which they drank ' on the premises,' but without 
 excess. The flags on the barricades bore on the first 
 day the inscription, ' Vive la Keforme,' which was 
 changed the next day into ' Vive la Kepublique.' 
 Being pretty far from the centre of Paris, we heard 
 no news, everything seemed quiet, and only twice 
 during the day did we see a regiment of soldiers pass 
 through the Eue St. Lazare, at the end of our street, 
 with their guns reversed, from which we concluded 
 that at all events part of the army had fraternised 
 with the people. Our friends of the barricades 
 cheered them most vociferously, but had no more 
 news of what was going on than we. 
 
 On the evening of the second day this imprison- 
 ment became intolerable to me, and I ventured to ask 
 the sentinels if I might go to inquire after my friends. 
 Permission being given, I passed through and found 
 a second barricade at the end of the street, which also 
 proved no obstacle. Fortunately, I found my friends, 
 of whom Heller was the first I visited, all well, heard 
 for the first time of the flight of Louis Philippe, the 
 formation of a ' Gouvernement provisoire,' and after an 
 hour's absence returned home with this weighty news. 
 Approaching the lower barricade of our street, I was 
 challenged by a most ferocious-looking individual in 
 the gruffest of voices with ' Qui vive ? ' I drew as 
 near to him as I could and said that I really did not 
 know under the circumstances what was the proper 
 answer to give, but that I only wanted to return to 
 my family in the Place St. Georges, which I had left, 
 but an hour before. Apparently satisfied, lie screamed
 
 96 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 out, looking more grim than before, ' Eh bien, passez ! 
 mais prenez garde la-bas ! ' Alarmed and thinking of 
 possible ambuscades, I asked him what danger 
 threatened me ' la-bas.' ' C'est qu'il y a de l'eau,' 
 was the answer. It had been raining, and the pave- 
 ment having been partially taken up, there were pools 
 of water here and there, and my formidable-looking 
 challenger was anxious that I should not wet my 
 feet ! A rose-coloured revolution, indeed ! One, 
 however, which completely destroyed my prospects 
 in Paris and forced me to consider very seriously 
 what to do next. I could not remain in Paris, and 
 my thoughts began to travel towards London, when 
 one day M. de Soligny, formerly Prench Charge 
 d' Affaires in Mexico, called with a message from 
 M. de Lamartine, the chief of the ' Gouvernement pro- 
 visoire.' The message was nothing less than the offer 
 of the secretaryship at the Prench Embassy to the 
 German Diet in Prankfort, Soligny being the chosen 
 ambassador. I believe, however, that he never occu- 
 pied the post. Twenty-four hours were given me for 
 my decision, and those were most anxious hours, but 
 at the end of them I felt that musician I was and 
 musician I must remain. I declined the tempting 
 offer, and went direct to Lamartine to express my 
 thanks and to explain my reasons for refusing it. A 
 fortnight more was spent in consultation with my 
 best friends, the result of which was that I decided 
 upon going to London, there to seek a new existence 
 for my family. 
 
 I left Paris in March 1848 with a very heavy
 
 .MADEMOISELLE TAGL10NI 97 
 
 heart indeed; not only had I to leave my family be- 
 hind me at first, but the separation from so many 
 friends, from a society which I had good reason to 
 think unequalled in the world, was a hard wrench. 
 Often during my twelve years of residence there had 
 I said to myself thai ii would be impossible for me to 
 live anywhere else, and now I had to say 'adieu' 
 most unexpectedly; for, one short month before, I 
 thought myself secure in Paris for the rest of my 
 lifetime. A new life was to begin for me in England ; 
 but before I narrate what befell me here, I must 
 throw a few retrospective glances upon people I met 
 in Paris and who have not yet been mentioned in 
 these memoirs. 
 
 1 Place aux dames.' 1 In my earliest recollection 
 dwells one evening in 1S39, when a friend took me 
 to one of the receptions of Mademoiselle Taglioni, the 
 celebrated dancer, the admired of the admired, whose 
 every attitude, every motion, was an embodiment of 
 grace, a study for the sculptor and painter. My 
 admiration for her knew no bounds, and to be in her 
 own salon was great happiness to me. There were 
 crowds of people there, and the best names of France 
 were represented : my excitement was intense when 
 she kindly asked me to play something. I did so, 
 and then behind my back I heard her say to a friend, 
 ' mais il joue comme un ange ; ' words that thrilled 
 my every nerve. I could not approach her again 
 during the evening, and the next time I met her was 
 about forty years later, when at a dinner-party in 
 London I found myself seated by her side. Then I 
 
 ii
 
 98 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 told her of that, to me, memorable evening, repeated 
 to her the very words she had spoken, never forgotten 
 by me, and added : ' Ah, Madame Taglioni, if you 
 knew how deeply in love I was with you at that 
 time ! ' ' Et vous me dites cela maintenant ! ' was 
 her prompt reply. 
 
 Another remarkable lady, very different from 
 Mademoiselle Taglioni, for she was a confirmed 
 invalid, was Mademoiselle Louisa Bertin, sister of 
 Armand Bertin, spoken of in Parisian society invari- 
 ably as Mademoiselle Louisa, just as if she had been 
 some royalty. She was a most distinguished lady, 
 and a very clever and serious musician, accomplish- 
 ing even the composition of an opera, ' Esmeralda,' 
 which, through the influence of the 'Journal des 
 Debats,' was actually performed at the Grand Opera, 
 called then ' L'Academie Eoyale de Musique.' The 
 work had no success, and was withdrawn after a few 
 performances. What I remember best was the 
 general rehearsal, when the stalls were crowded with 
 celebrities of all kinds : friends of the autocrat 
 Armand, and also of the very amiable lady whose 
 work they were invited to judge. Eossini was placed 
 on the stage in an easy chair close to the scenery on 
 the left side, and was, of course, the observed of all 
 observers. He gave no sign during the first act, but 
 in the middle of the second, when a momentary 
 pause had occurred, he rose and advanced slowly to- 
 wards the conductor. Immediately a whisper ran 
 through the whole house — ' Eossini va parler ' — every- 
 body was all ears, and this was what he said : l Mon-
 
 ROSSINI AND DONIZETTI 09 
 
 sieur Habeneck, vous ne voyez done pas ? II y a un 
 quinquet qui fume ; ' and he returned to his seat. 
 A somewhat similar scene, of which, however, I was 
 not an eye-witness, had occurred at one of the re- 
 hearsals of his own ' Guillaume Tell.' There, also, 
 during a pause, he had crossed the stage up to a spot 
 from which he could speak to M. Brod, the celebrated 
 oboe player, professor of the Conservatoire, whom 
 he addressed with, ' M Brod, have you your snuff- 
 box with you ? ' ' Yes, maestro.' ' Then give me a 
 pinch.' The pinch duly taken, he continued : ' M. 
 Brod, in the introduction to such and such an air 
 there occurs an F which you play sharp ; I should 
 prefer it natural, if you please. With regard to the F 
 sharp, ne vous en tourmentez pas ; nous trouverons 
 moyen de la placer ailleurs.'' I had occasion to relate 
 this little anecdote to Berlioz, who jumped up from 
 his chair, exclaiming, ' C'est foudroyant d'esprit ! ' 
 
 A remarkable man I met now and then at the 
 house of M. Mallet in 1840 and 1841 was Donizetti, 
 a most distinguished, amiable, and fashionable gentle- 
 man, as elegant as most of his music. He was young 
 still, but such a prolific composer that at that time 
 he had already written upwards of forty operas. I 
 remember talking with him about Eossini, and asking 
 if Eossini had really composed the ' Barbiere ' in a 
 fortnight. ' Oh, I quite believe it,' said he, ' he has 
 always been such a lazy fellow ! ' I confess that I 
 looked with wonder and admiration at a man who 
 considered that to spend a whole fortnight over the 
 composition of an opera was a waste of time. An-
 
 100 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 other and much more remarkable man, whom I saw 
 several times at my friend Leo's house, was Alexander 
 von Humboldt, certainly the most celebrated man of his 
 time. When the invitation bore the words ' To meet 
 Humboldt,' the rooms were naturally crowded, and 
 he was the cynosure of all eyes. Wherever he stood 
 a crowd of eager listeners assembled around him, all 
 mute and full of reverence, and intent on every word 
 that fell from his lips. He never attempted to lead 
 or originate a conversation in the true sense of the 
 word ; he always spoke alone, delivering a lecture on 
 one subject or another, and was never anxious to 
 hear anybody else's opinion. I was once asked to play 
 for him, and looked upon this invitation as an event 
 in my life. There had been a momentary silence in 
 the rooms, but the moment I began to play von 
 Humboldt began to hold forth on a new and evidently 
 most interesting topic, his voice rising with every one 
 of my crescendos, dominating my most powerful fortes, 
 and resuming its normal level only with my most 
 delicate phrases. It was a duet which I did not 
 sustain long — 'je pliais bagage,' and left the 'champ 
 de bataille ' to him, undoubtedly much to the advan- 
 tage of those whom he addressed.
 
 ARRIVAL IN LONDON 101 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 1848-186G 
 
 Arrival in London : a gloomy outlook— Engagements at Covent Garden 
 and the Musical Union concerts— A contrast: 1848-1895— Inter- 
 views with Lord Brougham and Cobden — Music v. Conversation at 
 the Chevalier de Bunsen's— Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris's parties— Henry 
 F. Chorley— Growth of my teaching clientele — Death of my father — 
 Summons from Manchester— I decide to leave London— London 
 friends: anecdotes of Moscheles— Reception in Manchester: anec- 
 dotes of pupils : a strange sonata — The Gentlemen's Concerts : an 
 agonising orchestra — Visit of Chopin— I start chamber concerts: 
 slow but steady progress— Anecdote of Mr. Ella— Jenny Lind in 
 Manchester: the penalties of popularity — I accept the conductorship 
 of the Gentlemen's Concerts and reorganise the band— I found the 
 St. Cecilia Society : Edward Hecht— A musical (?) clergyman and 
 his ' List of Deficiencies '—Opera at the Theatre Royal, Manchester : 
 anecdotes of John Knowles and Carl Formes— Pianoforte recitals in 
 London and elsewhere from 1850 onwards— Georg Lichtenstein— 
 Extension of my chamber-music concerts in Manchester : visits of 
 Molique, Ernst, Sainton, Vieuxtemps, and Piatti— Acquaintance 
 with the Brownings : Browning's fine musical taste and extensive 
 knowledge— Meyerbeer, Costa, and Spohr— The Art Treasures Ex- 
 hibition in Manchester in 1857 : I am entrusted with the musical 
 arrangements— Friendship with Richard Doyle— Railway eccentrici- 
 ties—I resolve to keep together my Exhibition orchestra — Dismay of 
 my friends at my audacity— Disastrous financial prospects : profits a 
 penny per concert — Development of my orchestra : statistics of works 
 performed at the Free Trade Hall concerts, 1858-1895—1 conduct 
 English opera at Her Majesty's Theatre, 18G0-1861— Kidnapping a 
 stage-child: Santley's presence of mind — Anecdotes of Madame 
 Parepa and Madame Sherrington— Production of ' Iphigenie en 
 Tauride ' at Manchester and at Lord Dudley's— Production of ' Ar- 
 mida : ' interesting letter from Berlioz. 
 
 With my arrival in March 1818 begins a new epoch 
 in my life, by far the most important and active one, 
 which in many respects has been full of surprises to
 
 102 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 me. Very far indeed was I then from anticipating 
 that I should one day feel thoroughly at home in 
 England, be proud to become one of her citizens, and 
 play a humble but not altogether unimportant part 
 in the development of her musical taste. My first 
 call was upon my friend Berlioz, who was in trouble 
 through the bankruptcy of Monsieur Jullien, by 
 whom he had been engaged to conduct the opera at 
 Drury Lane. I did not meet him, but returning 
 home from a long round of calls I found the following 
 characteristic note : 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Je suis bien fdche d'avoir le plaisir de 
 vous voir, je vous remercie neanmoins d'etre venu a la maison 
 aussitot apres votre naufrage sur les cotes d'Angleterre. Si 
 vous y etes ce soir, nous nous desolerons ensemble en fumant. 
 Je reviendrai chez vous vers les dix heures. Tout a vous, 
 
 Hector Berlioz. 1 
 
 And we did ' desoler ' ourselves together, the 
 future looking very black indeed. The five years 
 which had elapsed since I left London in '43 had, 
 however, brought some change in my position as an 
 artist, and, instead of having to solicit engagements, 
 the opportunity of playing in public was offered to 
 me spontaneously. Some grand orchestral concerts 
 were given at Covent Garden under the direction of 
 Signor Costa, and I soon received an invitation to 
 play Beethoven's E flat concerto at one of them. This 
 
 ' Dear Halle, — I am very sorry to have the pleasure of seeing you, 
 nevertheless I thank you for having come to this house so soon after your 
 shipwreck on the coast of England. If you are at home to-night we shall 
 lament together while smoldng. I shall come to you about ten o'clock. 
 Ever yours, Hector Berlioz.
 
 THE MUSICAL UNION 103 
 
 I may consider my first public appearance in England, 
 and it was favourably received and criticised. An 
 invitation to play at the Musical Union followed imme- 
 diately, and was renewed several times during the 
 season. The Musical Union, the predecessor of the 
 Popular Concerts, was originated and directed by 
 Mr. John Ella, and, at the time I speak of, was very 
 flourishing, and the most important concert institu- 
 tion (for chamber music) in London. The Duke of 
 Cambridge was president, and there was a committee 
 composed of members of the highest aristocracy, 
 who, however, did not interfere with the manage- 
 ment of the concerts. That was entirely in the hands 
 of Mr. Ella. 
 
 Before relating what passed between Mr. Ella 
 and me on the occasion of my first performance at 
 the Musical Union, I must remind my readers that I 
 speak of the year 1848, since which time such a 
 revolution in musical matters has taken place, that 
 what happened then may seem incredible now. When 
 Mr. Ella asked me what I wished to play, and heard 
 that it was one of Beethoven's pianoforte sonatas, he 
 exclaimed, ' Impossible ! ' and endeavoured to demon- 
 strate that they were not works to be played in 
 public ; that, as far as he knew, no solo sonata had 
 ever before been included in any concert programme, 
 and that he could not venture upon offering one to 
 his subscribers. I had to battle for several days 
 before he gave way. He consented at last, and was 
 then much surprised to find that the sonata I had 
 chosen (Op. 31, No. 3 in E flat) pleased so much that
 
 104 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 several ladies who heard it arranged afternoon parties 
 in order to hear it once more. I have searched the 
 columns of the ' Musical World ' for at least fifteen 
 years previous to 1848, but have not found one 
 instance of a sonata being included in a concert 
 programme ; Ella therefore may have been right in 
 considering my venture a bold one. Subsequently 
 he made no difficulty about admitting other sonatas ; 
 he only recommended me to be careful in their 
 selection, and to choose those that could more easily 
 be appreciated. I advanced therefore very cau- 
 tiously, the second sonata I played being the one in 
 D, Op. 28, commonly known as the ' Pastorale.' What 
 a contrast 1848 offers to 1895 ! Then the question 
 was : Can this or that sonata be understood by the 
 audience? Nowadays the difficulty lies in finding 
 one not too hackneyed. 
 
 These few public appearances did more for me 
 to keep starvation from my door than the host of 
 letters of introduction I had brought from Paris, 
 some of them to very interesting people. One was 
 to Lord Brougham, who received me very kindly in 
 his mansion in Grafton Street, but candidly told me 
 that music was not at all in his line ; another was 
 to Mr. Eichard Cobden, who said with equal can- 
 dour that he had never been able to distinguish 
 ' God Save the Queen ' from any other tune ; a third 
 was for Chevalier de Bunsen, the Prussian Ambas- 
 sador, a most distinguished and amiable man and a 
 great lover of music. In his family circle I have 
 spent many a pleasant hour, although my first ap-
 
 Ml'SIC V. CONVERSATION 105 
 
 pearance in his ' salon ' had been far from agreeable 
 to me. I had received a very kind invitation from 
 him to play at one of his receptions, and had set 
 great hopes upon it, for necessarily there would be 
 many people there who could favour my views if I 
 succeeded in gaining their approbation. The rooms 
 were densely crowded, everybody standing, as nearly 
 all the seats had been removed, and a frightful babel 
 of tongues was going on. When I was asked to 
 play, I thought in my innocence that silence would 
 be established and sat down to the piano : but after a 
 few minutes I rose again with the conviction that 
 not a note of what I had played could have been 
 heard. The thanks of the chevalier seemed a cruel 
 mockery ; still, when later in the evening he asked 
 me to play again, he was so amiable, that out of 
 deference to him I did so ; but unable at the moment 
 to recollect a shorter piece than the one I had played 
 half an hour before, I repeated it, and neither the 
 chevalier nor anybody else detected the identity ! 
 
 To another introduction, that to Mrs. Sartoris 
 (nee Adelaide Kemble), I owe some of the greatest 
 pleasures I have enjoyed in London. She was indeed 
 a rare woman, and her somewhat taciturn husband a 
 man of vast intelligence. Both were musicians to 
 the core, intensely enthusiastic, and of sound judg- 
 ment. Their house reminded me strongly of the 
 'salon' of Armand Bertin in Paris, for it was the 
 rendezvous of most of the remarkable people in 
 London : poets, painters, musicians, all feeling equally 
 at home, and all finding something to interest them.
 
 106 LIFE OF SIH CHARLES HALLE 
 
 It is to Mrs. Sartoris that I owe my first acquaintance 
 with Browning, Thackeray, Dickens, Leighton, Watts, 
 WilMe Collins, and a host of other celebrities ; and 
 it will always be my pride to have enjoyed their 
 affectionate and intimate friendship till death removed 
 them both. Another house, the tiniest in London 
 perhaps, but a real gem, to which I repaired often with 
 great pleasure, was that of Henry F. Chorley, the 
 musical critic and contributor to the ' Athenaeum.' I 
 was always sure to find interesting men there, and met 
 Cockburn and Coleridge, who both rose to be Lord 
 Chief Justices of England, for the first time under his 
 roof. He was a man of strong views, fearless in his 
 criticism, perfectly honest, although often and uncon- 
 sciously swayed by personal antipathies or sympathies. 
 Of his oddities I shall have to speak now and then. 
 
 Slowly I laid the foundations for a new existence ; 
 pupils came to me, some of them being former pupils 
 who had fled from Paris like myself and continued 
 their lessons in London. Amongst them there was 
 the daughter of M. Guizot, who, fallen from his high 
 estate, was living in a modest house in Pelham 
 Crescent, Brompton. After the sanguinary June 
 days in Paris, during which I was tortured with 
 anxiety for my family, I sent for them and had no 
 rest till I saw them safe in London. Soon after a 
 hard blow fell upon me, crushing for a time all my 
 energies— the death of my beloved father. My grief 
 was beyond all expression, and under the weight of 
 memories that crowded upon me I felt as weak as a 
 child. Stern necessity roused me at last out of my 
 stupor ; the London season was drawing to a close ;
 
 SUMMONS TO MANCHESTER 107 
 
 a musical autumn and winter season did not then 
 exist, and all I could hope for was to find some stray 
 pupils and to derive from them an uncertain income. 
 At this crisis I received an important communi- 
 cation from Manchester, through a brother of my 
 Parisian friend Leo, who was residing there. Mr. H. 
 Leo had several times visited his brother in Paris ; I 
 had made his acquaintance and found him not only a 
 very amiable man, but a most enthusiastic amateur 
 of music and a great connoisseur. He held a good 
 position in Manchester, and, as far as music was con- 
 cerned, he was looked upon as an authority and 
 deservedly so. At the end of June he came to 
 London purposely to propose that I should take up 
 my residence in Manchester, and he assured me, on 
 behalf of many devoted lovers of music, that Man- 
 chester was quite ripe to be taken in hand, and that they 
 thought me the fittest man to stir the dormant taste 
 for the art. We had several interviews, and in the 
 end, although I knew absolutely nothing of Man- 
 chester beyond that it was a large and rich town, I 
 determined to give it a trial ; on the condition, how- 
 ever, that a fixed number of pupils (not a small one) 
 should be enrolled to begin work from the day of my 
 arrival, and the further condition that I should 
 always be allowed to spend the summer season in 
 London, where I had been too successful already, 
 and had made too many friends to harbour the 
 thought of abandoning it altogether. Xot a week 
 had elapsed when I received the news that the pupils 
 I had stipulated for were found and awaiting me, and 
 I was summoned to keep my promise. Reassured
 
 108 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 as to the financial prospects of the future, and 
 attracted powerfully by the hope of fostering the 
 taste for music in so large a community, I proceeded 
 to change nry residence for a second time in the 
 course of three months. 
 
 I left many friends behind, amongst whom I must 
 name dear old Moscheles, in his younger days the 
 most brilliant of pianists, many of whose compositions, 
 especially his studies, will remain as standard works 
 for all time. Moscheles had often been at my house 
 in Paris, even daily during the few months which he 
 spent there, occupied with the composition of his 
 second pianoforte sonata for four hands. I have 
 indeed reason to remember that sonata, for whenever 
 he had added twenty or twenty-four bars to the un- 
 finished work, he came to me with the beautifully 
 written manuscript to try them over. And in order 
 to give them their due effect, as he said, we had 
 always to begin from the introduction and to go 
 through the whole sonata until the new portion was 
 reached, so that for every twenty new bars in the 
 finale, we played the introduction, the allegro, the 
 andante, the scherzo, and the finale, so far as it was 
 ready. Often I was fetched from my house even as 
 late as midnight by the amiable and charming 
 Madame Moscheles, because ' they had a few friends 
 with them who were anxious to hear the sonata.' I 
 must have played it a few hundred times in this 
 mutilated way before, on its completion, Moscheles 
 gave a grand evening party at Kalkbrenner's house to 
 produce it before the artistic and literary world. It
 
 RECEPTION IN MANCHESTER 109 
 
 met with success, but has never eclipsed the first 
 sonata, which remains superior to it in freshness of 
 ideas. I am still glad that I never showed any signs of 
 impatience during this long trial ; ever since I battled 
 as a boy with Moscheles's ' Variations sur la Marche 
 d'Alexandre,' and his G minor concerto, I had 
 venerated his name and felt happy and proud to be 
 chosen by and associated with him on this occasion. 
 His good feeling towards me remained the same when 
 I came to London, of which he gave me a proof by 
 sending his eldest daughter to me as a pupil; at 
 which I felt elated and which was not without a 
 certain influence on public opinion. Benedict, Stern- 
 dale Bennett, Davison, Henry Broadwood, that prince 
 of pianoforte makers, were amongst the other friends 
 that I quitted unwillingly, but with the hope of seeing 
 soon again. 
 
 In Manchester I was most kindly received, espe- 
 cially by the German colony, which was prosperous 
 and important. Preceding my small family by a few 
 weeks in order better to prepare for their installation, 
 I was introduced in a short time to most of the 
 notabilities of the town, went through a succession of 
 dinner parties, and, in short, was ' made much of as 
 the phrase goes. My pupils were ladies of the most 
 various ages, many of them having evidently joined 
 the ranks merely for the sake of making up the 
 requisite number. Their accomplishments were as 
 various as their ages, but I found goodwill and 
 perseverance amongst all of them. One pupil gave 
 me a great surprise. She belonged to a family con-
 
 110 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 sidered the most musical in the neighbourhood, and 
 brought as a test of her powers a sonata for piano 
 and violin. When I suggested that a piece for the 
 piano alone would be more to the purpose, she said 
 this was a piece of which all at home were very fond, 
 and she hoped I would allow her to play it for me. 
 In answer to my question if her father or a brother 
 played the violin part, she said, ' Oh, no, I always 
 play it alone.' Now the copy she had did not 
 contain the violin part, and I began to feel some 
 curiosity as to how she would deal with certain parts 
 of the composition principally allotted to the absent 
 instrument. The sonata was a simple one by Mozart, 
 and the lady began to play it most correctly. Soon 
 she came to a series of eight bars in which the absent 
 violin had all the melody and the piano nothing but 
 an old-fashioned accompaniment in broken chords. 
 She played them attentively, and after four bars of 
 this unmeaning twaddle, I heard her say to herself 
 with deep emotion, 'Beautiful!' Shortly after she 
 omitted about twenty bars, without apparent reason, 
 and when I asked, ' Why don't you play this part ? ' 
 she gave a never-to-be-forgotten answer, ' Oh, that is 
 in a minor key, and papa does not like minor.' How 
 musical must have been the family capable of 
 expunging from every piece of music all the modula- 
 tions into a minor key ! I did not try to convert the 
 papa, but the daughter had to put up with pieces in 
 minor and soon grew fond of them. 
 
 Not long after my arrival in Manchester I had 
 occasion to hear one of the concerts of the oldest and
 
 THE GENTLEMEN'S CONCERTS 1 1 I 
 
 most important musical society of the town, called 
 ' The Gentlemen's Concerts,' from the fact that it was 
 originally founded in 1774, I believe, by amateurs, 
 twenty-six in number, who constituted what may be 
 called the orchestra, but who all and every one of 
 them played the flute ! In course of time other in- 
 struments were added, and in 1848 the modern 
 orchestra had been completed for more than a score 
 or two of years. The society was wealthy, would-be 
 subscribers having generally to wait three years before 
 room could be made for them ; in consequence every 
 artist of renown who had visited England had been 
 engaged, and the older programmes of the concerts 
 are remarkably rich in celebrated names. At the 
 concert which I attended, Grisi, Mario, and Lablache 
 sang ; but the orchestra ! oh, the orchestra ! I was 
 fresh from the ' Concerts du Conservatoire,' from 
 Hector Berlioz's orchestra, and I seriously thought of 
 packing up and leaving Manchester, so that I might 
 not have to endure a second of these wretched per- 
 formances. But when I hinted at this my friends 
 gave me to understand that I was expected to change 
 all this — to accomplish a revolution, in fact, and 
 begged me to have a little patience. At the next 
 concert I was engaged to play the E flat concerto by 
 Beethoven, and Mr. Zeugher Herrmann was invited 
 to come over from Liverpool to conduct it, which he 
 did with great skill, accomplishing all that could be 
 accomplished with the unsatisfactory material he had 
 to deal with. During the same month of August 
 Chopin came, played, but was little understood. He
 
 112 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 remained a few days only, then went to Scotland on 
 a visit to Miss Stirling, a pupil to whom he dedicated 
 several of his works. The Scotch climate tried his 
 weak constitution severely and hastened his death. 
 
 In the winter of 1848-49 I ventured upon a 
 series of six chamber-music concerts, assisted by two 
 modest local artists ; but in spite of the efforts of my 
 friends, who canvassed most energetically for sub- 
 scribers, their total number reached only sixty-seven ; 
 the sale of single tickets for the first concert amounted 
 to three, and to a few more for each one of the suc- 
 ceeding concerts. These were small beginnings in- 
 deed, but did not dishearten me. Every item in the 
 programme was new to the small audience and received 
 with appreciation. I felt that there was a whole 
 musical education to make, and devoted all my ener- 
 gies to the task. When I began a second series in 
 November 1849 the subscribers numbered 193, and 
 by general desire I had to add a short series of four 
 concerts in February and March 1850. During that 
 winter Ernst and Piatti made their first appearance 
 in Manchester at these concerts, and from that time 
 remained identified with them. The summer season 
 of '49 I spent in London, where I was engaged to 
 play at the whole series of the concerts given by the 
 Musical Union. My choice of pieces was then un- 
 fettered, and it was a pleasure to me to introduce 
 many works unknown to the audience until then. 
 Among these was Schubert's trio in E flat, the per- 
 formance of which was connected with an amusing 
 incident. Mr. Ella had written an analysis of this
 
 JENNY LIND 113 
 
 work, to be inserted in the programme, in which he 
 had dismissed the ' Menuetto ' with the short sentence, 
 ' This movement is not very interesting.' When he 
 showed me the proof on the day previous to the con- 
 cert, I remonstrated and said he would probably find 
 that this 'Menuetto ' was the gem of the whole trio. 
 He replied that he had carefully read it through, and 
 that it had not struck him as particularly remarkable. 
 We had a short discussion about it, but I felt I could 
 not convince him. The conversation turned upon 
 other things for some time, when just before taking 
 leave he referred once more to the ' Menuetto,' and 
 said : ' Well, I do not mind making a slight change 
 in the paragraph you object to.' He showed me the 
 proof again, and I read to my surprise : ' This move- 
 ment is . . . very interesting.' The change was indeed 
 slight — only one word omitted — but it could hardly 
 have been greater. 
 
 On my return to Manchester after the summer 
 season of 1849 I found the town in a state of excite- 
 ment, caused by the announcement that Jenny Lind 
 would give a concert for the benefit of the infirmary. 
 She was then at the height of her popularity, had 
 never sung in Manchester before, and it was natural, 
 therefore, that every ticket should be sold long before 
 her arrival. The hall was consequently crowded, and 
 I was accommodated with a seat on the platform. I 
 had never heard her before and my curiosity was at 
 the highest pitch, but the reality surpassed all my 
 expectations. Never had I been moved by any singer 
 as by her, and never again shall be, I feel certain. 
 
 I
 
 114 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Her first air was the grand scena from ' Der Frey- 
 scliiitz,' and never shall I forget the impression it 
 made upon me. Her singing in the first recitative of 
 the long high note with the descent which follows, 
 upon the words ' Welch' stille Nacht ' nearly suffocated 
 me. I was sobbing audibly, and yet this extraordinary 
 effect was produced by the simplest means. It was 
 indeed true art coupled with enthusiasm and uncon- 
 scious inspiration. Added to this there was a per- 
 fection of execution which was itself a marvel, and I 
 can say without fear of contradiction that we shall 
 never hear her like again. Shortly after this concert 
 she gave two more on her own account, which were 
 equally crowded. Since then I have heard her often 
 and often, and my admiration always remained un- 
 altered. The concerts in Manchester were followed 
 by a short tour through the provinces, during which 
 I was engaged as pianist, and had occasion therefore 
 not only to revel in her singing, but also to witness 
 the enthusiasm with which she was received every- 
 where, and which sometimes led to great incon- 
 venience. Crowds of people were always waiting at 
 the door of her hotel to get a glimpse of her, and the 
 police had often to be called for her protection. At 
 Worcester, on one occasion, I had entered a carriage 
 with her and the horses had drawn us about two yards 
 when the pressure of the crowd suddenly broke both 
 the windows, the splinters of the glass flying about to 
 our consternation. I got a nasty cut. She remained 
 fortunately uninjured, but we had to return to the 
 hotel, and after, that I was shy of the honour of
 
 CONDUCTOR OF THE GENTLEMEN'S CONCERTS 115 
 
 driving out with her. Whether her judgment in 
 music kept pace with her marvellous genius as a 
 singer I have not been able to decide, for I have seen 
 her cry when hearing a beautiful masterpiece well 
 sung by a good chorus, and seen her cry also when 
 some very commonplace ditty was given by the same 
 chorus. 
 
 At the end of the year 1849 the conductorship of 
 the ' Gentlemen's Concerts ' was offered to me, and I 
 accepted it on the condition that the band should be 
 dismissed and its reorganisation left entirely in my 
 hands. This was the first step towards the position 
 which Manchester now holds in the domain of 
 orchestral music. I had then to be satisfied, how- 
 ever, with attracting to Manchester a certain number 
 of first-rate instrumentalists, mostly from London, 
 with displacing others, changing the position of the 
 instruments which had been absurd — the double 
 basses, for instance, standing in front — and recruiting 
 in the neighbourhood the best talent available. The 
 result was a good one, much approved of by the sub- 
 scribers, and from that time the cultivation of orches- 
 tral music in Manchester has been my chief delight 
 and remains so still. That the taste for chamber 
 music began to grow and that Ernst and Piatti were 
 often seen and heard at my concerts I have already 
 related. During the winter of 1849—30 I proposed 
 to Ernst that we should give a similar concert in 
 Liverpool. He readily assented, and, relying upon 
 his great reputation and my rising one, we promised 
 ourselves great success, engaged a good violoncellist, 
 
 I 2
 
 11 G LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 made an excellent programme and gave the concert. 
 The audience consisted of eleven people, four of whom 
 were reporters ! Such was the beginning of my 
 acquaintance with that flourishing town, with the 
 musical life of which I have since become so inti- 
 mately associated. 
 
 The circle of my acquaintances in Manchester 
 had by this time become so extended, and I had 
 come across so many amateurs with fair voices and 
 an ear for music, that in 1850 I was able to found 
 the ' St. Cecilia Society,' in imitation of the German 
 ' Gesang-Verein,' which dwelt in my memory from the 
 days of my childhood. It consisted of ladies and 
 gentlemen of the best society, at first about fifty in 
 number, who met weekly for the study of choral 
 works under my direction, and found such pleasure 
 in it, and worked so well, that soon these meetings 
 became a source of great pleasure to them and to 
 me. The society grew from year to year, and con- 
 tributed not a little to spread that intelligent love 
 of the art which distinguished Manchester. I con- 
 ducted it for many years, till my engagements be- 
 came too numerous, and I had reluctantly to hand it 
 over to my friend Edward Hecht, an excellent and 
 thoroughly reliable musician, who later on became 
 my chorus-master, and rendered me most valuable 
 services. Death snatched him laway in the prime of 
 life, but he is most affectionately remembered by all 
 who knew him. 
 
 Pupils came to me in increasing numbers, many 
 giving me extreme satisfaction by their real disposi-
 
 
 L850 

 
 A MUSICAL CLERGYMAN 117 
 
 tion and love for music ; others there were wlio, like 
 the young lady with the father who hated minor keys, 
 offered me much food for amusement. Of these I 
 will give only one specimen, which will stand for 
 many. 
 
 A clergyman of middle age appeared one day 
 at my house with the request that I should give 
 him some lessons. He had brought a friend — a total 
 stranger to me — in order that the friend might intro- 
 duce him. This seemed odd, but did not prepare 
 me for all the oddities that were to follow. Day and 
 hour having been duly fixed, he came at the appointed 
 time, armed with a music book, entered my study, 
 and without any greeting stood before me smiling. 
 After a few moments, seeing my astonishment, he 
 pointed with his finger to his throat, which I took 
 for an indication that he had lost his voice. I 
 expressed my regret at this, when he said, ' No, no ; 
 I have only taken off the badge.' I then understood 
 that on coming for a music lesson he had judged proper 
 not to appear in the character of a clergyman, and 
 had exchanged the customary white necktie for a 
 black one. I accordingly invited him to play some- 
 thing in order that I might know how far he had 
 already progressed. ' Yes, yes, immediately,' he said ; 
 ' but before I do so I wish you to look at the list of 
 my deficiencies, which I have prepared in order that 
 you might know at once how to deal with me.' He 
 handed me a sheet of paper, the margins of which he 
 had ornamented with arabesques, evidently whilst 
 musing on what he would have to write down, which
 
 118 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 paper I have carefully preserved up to the present 
 day, and which runs as follows : — 
 
 List of Deficiencies. 
 
 1 . Deficient in the shake. 
 
 2. Deficient in general execution. 
 
 3. Very deficient in the performance of scales, both dia- 
 tonic and chromatic. 
 
 4. Deficient in rapidity of fingers. 
 
 5. Deficient in equality of touch. 
 G. Third finger very weak. 
 
 7. Extreme nervousness when playing before company. 
 
 Questions. 
 
 1 . How many hours (a day) ought I to practise ? 
 
 2. What style of music ought I to study ? 
 
 Having pocketed this remarkable document, I 
 renewed my request for the performance of some 
 piece or other, and he proposed to play Beethoven's 
 Sonata with the Funeral March, contained in the 
 book he had brought with him. Sitting down to the 
 piano, he looked attentively at the music and then 
 put his fingers down upon two wrong notes — two 
 E naturals. ' E flat,' I said. He held fast to the 
 wrong notes, looked at the music, at his fingers, up 
 and down several times, then turned his head towards 
 me with a smile, said, ' To be sure,' and then removed 
 his fingers from the wrong to the right notes. In 
 the very next bar a similar mistake occurred. I 
 corrected it ; then came the same operation of look- 
 ing up and down, the same smile, and the same 'To 
 be sure.' This having been repeated four or five 
 times in as many bars, I remained silent afterwards,
 
 AN ECCENTRIC PUPIL 11!) 
 
 thinking only of how to get rid of so unpropitioua a 
 pupil without giving him offence. He struggled on 
 through about half the first page, which took a con- 
 siderable time, then suddenly closed the book, held 
 it before my eyes, and said, with another smile, 
 ' Is not that nicely bound ? ' I assented ; and ' I got 
 it bound when I was at Cambridge,' was the infor- 
 mation lie gave me. Re-opening the book, he began 
 again at the identical note in the middle of a bar 
 at which he had left off, and after another ten 
 minutes' stumbling he reached at last the end of the 
 first page. By that time I had made up my mind, 
 and told him politely that he was not advanced 
 enough to become one of my pupils, and advised him 
 to go to some other teacher. He was sorry, but 
 submitted. Before leaving he said there was one 
 piece he was most anxious to learn, and ' did I think 
 he could master it ? ' ' Which piece ? ' I inquired ; 
 and ' A Fantasia on the Prophet, by Liszt,' was the 
 answer ; to which I could only reply : ' Not in this 
 world ! ' During this last colloquy he had been 
 putting on his gloves, which gave rise to the following 
 little dialogue. Holding them up to my eyes, he 
 said : ' They are very bad.' I : ' They seem to have 
 been of service.' ' Yes,' said he. ' I am a poor 
 clergyman, and I paid for them 3 fr. 75 c, so I 
 must wear them a little longer.' To get away from 
 this somewhat painful topic, I asked if he had been 
 in France lately. ' Oh, no,' was the reply ; ' I never 
 was in France.' ' In Belgium, then ? ' ' Oh, no, 
 never.' 'Well, you told me just now you had paid
 
 120 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 3 fr. 75 c. for the gloves; where did you get them?' 
 ' Oh, I bought them in Market Street ; but,' with 
 another good-natured smile, ' you are a Frenchman.' 
 After which kind remark he looked at his watch and 
 said: 'I must go quickly, I have to preach.' I 
 resisted the temptation to follow him and hear his 
 sermon, which in spite of his musical peculiarities 
 may, I hope, have been a good one. 
 
 Another, this time a real pupil of mine, a gentle- 
 man of undoubted musical abilities, gave me a shock 
 of another kind on one occasion. He played very 
 well and was extremely fond of Chopin's music, 
 playing many of his pieces, even some of the very 
 difficult ones. I brought him the sad tidings of 
 Chopin's death. ' Capital ! ' he exclaimed ; ' now I 
 can have his complete works bound ! ' 
 
 My life now became a very busy one ; added to my 
 duties at the ' Gentlemen's Concerts,' many London 
 engagements, and hosts of pupils, there came in the 
 winter of 1855 the offer to conduct a series of operas 
 at the Theatre Eoyal, Manchester. A very excellent 
 troupe had been engaged, comprising Mme. Euders- 
 dorff, Mme. Caradori, Mile. Agnes Bury, Herr 
 Eeichardt, Carl Formes, and other remarkable 
 vocalists. Most of the operas were given in German, 
 and it was happiness to me to conduct really first- 
 rate performances of ' Fidelio,' * Don Giovanni,' ' Der 
 Freyschiitz,' 'Die Entfiihrung aus dem Serail,' alter- 
 nately with more modern works such as ' Eobert le 
 Diable,' ' Les Huguenots,' ' La Favorita,' and others. 
 Madame Eudersdorff was one of the most dramatic
 
 OPERA IX MANCHESTEB 121 
 
 and accomplished singers I have ever listened to, and 
 achieved a real triumph as Leonora in ' Fidelio.' 
 Formes was at the zenith of his powers and equally 
 admirable as Leporello or as Don Giovanni. Reich- 
 ardt was a charming tenor who sang Belmonte 
 in ' Die Entfiihrung ' to perfection, and all were 
 musicians to the core, having their heart in their 
 work. 
 
 The public appreciated our efforts, but neverthe- 
 less the pecuniary success of the season was not 
 complete, the expenses being too great, and daily 
 performances during several months being more than 
 a town like Manchester could digest. The obstinacy 
 of the entrepreneur and proprietor of the theatre, John 
 Knowles, who never listened to a counsel however 
 well-meant or useful, was also a drawback. His 
 peculiarities were many and sometimes amusing ; 
 thus, when Formes, then one of the foremost singers 
 in any country, sang the part of Don Giovanni and 
 insisted upon having a bottle of real champagne in 
 the finale, we could never bring Knowles to consent to 
 give it ; he would rather have dispensed with the per- 
 formance altogether. The consequence was that on 
 such evenings I came to the theatre with a bottle 
 under my cloak, and was probably called a fool for 
 my pains by the excellent Knowles. On one occasion 
 ' Lucrezia Borgia ' was to be performed, the numerous 
 minor parts in which were distributed amongst the 
 best of the chorus singers. Coming to the last 
 rehearsal on the morning of the performance I was 
 met by the stage-manager, who told me with a long
 
 122 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 face that, by order of Mr. Knowles, the doors of the 
 theatre would be closed that evening, and no 
 ' Lucrezia Borgia ' performed. On my inquiring for 
 the reason of this totally unexpected step he an- 
 swered, * All the nobles want half-a-crown apiece.' The 
 nobles meant the minor parts, and there were about 
 eight of them. I satisfied them out of my own purse 
 and the performance took place, much to the satis- 
 faction of Mr. Knowles, who, however, never alluded 
 to mv interference. During this same performance a 
 perplexing accident occurred, nearly causing a break- 
 down. Formes at the last rehearsal had earnestly 
 asked me to make a cut of eight bars in one of his 
 airs, to which I had assented. The cut was duly 
 marked in all the orchestral parts and observed in 
 the evening ; but, lo ! Formes had forgotten all about 
 it, made no cut, and sang the eight bars to which 
 there was no accompaniment. To jump back with a 
 whole band was an impossibility ; all its members 
 were however immediately aware that something was 
 wrong and had their eyes upon me. For a moment 
 I wondered what was to be done ; but soon there 
 occurred a chord upon which I seized, made the 
 band hold it out pianissimo and allowed Formes to 
 sing to it what remained of the eight bars, as a kind 
 of cadenza, until he had rejoined us, when we jogged 
 on together again. The best of the joke was that he 
 was not aware of the trick he had played us, or that 
 there had been anything unusual ; such a thing would, 
 however, not be possible with any but Italian music 
 of the Bellini and Donizetti school.
 
 PIANOFORTE RECITALS 123 
 
 From the year 1800 I had commenced to give 
 pianoforte recitals, until then unknown in England. 
 In London I gave them for several years at my own 
 house, until I transferred them to St. James's Hall. 
 In other towns I chose the most suitable concert- 
 rooms, and found willing ears nearly everywhere. 
 The programmes comprised every kind of pianoforte 
 music, and if at first I avoided the more abstruse 
 works, such as the later sonatas of Beethoven, I soon 
 discarded this precaution and played whatever I 
 wished to make known. Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, 
 Bach, Weber, Hummel, Dussek, Scarlatti, Eameau, 
 Mendelssohn, Schubert, Schumann, Chopin, Heller, 
 and others were put under contribution, and all the 
 pleasure which the evenings at the Guiberts' house in 
 Paris had given me was renewed on a larger and 
 more public scale. Of the towns besides London and 
 Manchester which I have thus visited and visit still, 
 there is none to which I have gone more constantly 
 and with more pleasure than Edinburgh, or where I 
 have found a more intelligent and music-loving 
 public. Friendships formed there have still further 
 endeared the town to me, and amongst these friends 
 stands out conspicuously Georg Lichtenstein, who, 
 after being aide-de-camp to Kossuth, was exiled from 
 Austria, and after months of trouble had settled down 
 in Edinburgh as music-master. He is no more, and I 
 am therefore at liberty to say that it would be diffi- 
 cult to find a more accomplished, versatile, genial, 
 and, above all, upright and kind-hearted man than he 
 was. His conversation, alwavs full of charm, and
 
 124 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 touching often upon the political events in Hungary 
 at the time of the insurrection, in which he had been 
 an actor, has made many an hour delightful and 
 memorable to me. To his kindness in correcting the 
 proofs of my local programmes I owe it that they 
 were free from blunders, which was often not the case 
 in other towns, where I had not an opportunity of 
 revising them myself. Thus on one occasion when I 
 had sent a programme to Scarborough, which in- 
 cluded a ' Caprice brillant sur la Truite (Schubert), 
 by Heller,' I found it printed to my horror as 
 ' Caprice brillant sur La Trinite ' ! 
 
 In the winter 1852-53 the number of sub- 
 scribers to my ' Chamber-Music Concerts ' in Man- 
 chester had largely increased. I therefore constituted 
 them into a ' Chamber-Music Society,' with an influ- 
 ential committee, keeping the entire management in 
 my own hands. The room in the old town hall, very 
 favourable for music of the kind, was not very large, 
 holding about 450 seats. These were all subscribed 
 for, and there was a list of from 80 to 100 would-be 
 subscribers who had to wait for vacancies. Such 
 gigantic strides had the love of music made in three 
 years. The visits of Ernst, Molique, Sainton, Vieux- 
 temps, became now regular, and Piatti was the violon- 
 cellist at all the concerts. The intimacy with these 
 men, great artists all, forms one of my happiest 
 recollections. They were always guests in my own 
 house, and we revelled in music. Good old Molique 
 with his broken English, the meaning of which had 
 often to be guessed at, was a subject of constant,
 
 MOLIQUE 125 
 
 harmless amusement. As we were taking a drive to- 
 gether one day, Molique, thinking the driver had lost 
 his way, leaned out of the cab and shouted : ' Coach- 
 man, who are we ? ' translating the German ' wo ' 
 (where) by ' who.' He got the immediate reply : 
 1 Well, sir, if you don't know who you are I cannot 
 tell you.' 
 
 Molique had a horror of cats, but, strange to say, 
 our cat was attracted by his playing and was generally 
 found sitting before the door of his room when he 
 practised, which greatly disturbed him when he 
 opened it, and could not muster courage to pass out 
 or to drive it away. Piatti, who occupied an adjoin- 
 ing room, never failed before retiring to bed to catch 
 the cat and hide it under Molique's bed. When 
 Molique discovered the intruder a most ludicrous 
 chase began, lasting sometimes an hour and more, as 
 he did not dare to approach the cat, but tried to 
 drive it away by merely hissing at it. 
 
 Molique was a great executant, knowing absolutely 
 no difficulties, finding easy what gave great trouble 
 to all other violinists ; but his style was polished and 
 cold, and he never carried his public away with him. 
 Ernst was all passion and fire, regulated by his 
 reverence for, and clear understanding of, the master- 
 pieces he had to interpret, Sainton was extremely 
 elegant and finished in his phrasing, but vastly in- 
 ferior to the others I have named. Vieuxtemps, 
 whose appearances were more rare, was an admirable 
 violinist and a great musician, whose compositions 
 deserve a much higher place than it is the fashion
 
 120 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 now to accord to them. Of Piatti, the incomparable, 
 I need not say a word beyond this, that during an 
 intimate friendship, extending over forty-six years, 
 my admiration of the artist and my love of the man 
 have gone on constantly increasing. He is the only 
 one remaining to us of the above-named quintet ; the 
 others are now listening to the harmony of the 
 spheres. 
 
 The Chamber-Music Society was dissolved in 
 185S, when the institution of my orchestral concerts 
 no longer left me time to devote the attention to it 
 which it imperatively required. The five years from 
 1852 to '57 were uneventful; the summer seasons 
 were spent in London with my family, which had 
 rapidly increased, the autumns and winters in Man- 
 chester, leaving time, however, for my peregrinations 
 to provincial towns, both in England and Scotland. 
 During my annual sojourns in London I made the 
 acquaintance of Eobert Browning and his gifted 
 wife, who were both passionate lovers of music, and 
 especially of Beethoven's sonatas, which I had often 
 the privilege of playing to them at my own house in 
 Mansfield Street. Browning formed an exception to 
 the rule that poets and literary men care less for 
 music than painters, in whom the love of our art 
 seems almost invariably to be inborn. Thackeray 
 and Dickens had a certain liking for music, but 
 Tennyson listened to it with great indifference, and 
 his loud talk whilst I was playing some superlatively 
 fine work has now and then ' agace ' my nerves. 
 Browning knew the whole literature of music, had
 
 BROWNING'S MUSICAL KNOWLEDGE 127 
 
 an unfailing judgment, and sometimes drew my 
 attention to pieces by older masters which had escaped 
 my notice and which I have always found worth 
 knowing. He must have been a good pianist himself, 
 but I could never prevail upon him to give me a 
 proof of his powers as such. I enjoyed his friendship 
 to the end of his days, and he endeared himself to me 
 especially through the kindness with which he for- 
 gave my incapacity to understand his poetry — an 
 incapacity which I frankly confessed to him more 
 than once. 
 
 Meyerbeer I had the pleasure of meeting again in 
 London, admiring, as before in Paris, his high-bred 
 manners, his cultured esprit, invariable tact, and great 
 savoir-faire. One day my friend Chorley had a small 
 dinner party, composed of the then Lady Hastings, 
 two other ladies, Meyerbeer, Costa, and myself. The 
 conversation fell on Mozart's ' Zauberflote,' which had 
 been given at Covent Garden a few days before. 
 Lady Hastings had not enjoyed the performance and 
 abused the work in unmeasured terms. Especially 
 was she angry with the recitatives ; ' those intermi- 
 nable, monotonous, unmeaning recitatives,' she called 
 them. Meyerbeer looked puzzled, Mozart's opera 
 containing no recitatives, and asked quietly : ' Quels 
 sont done les recitatifs dont Lady Hastings parle ? ' 
 'lis sont de moi, monsieur,' said Costa, and Lady 
 Hastings began to talk of something else. 
 
 Spohr also visited London during one of the 
 seasons I spent there, and I was happy to be able to 
 speak with him once more of my childhood, and to
 
 12S LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 express ray gratitude for the kindness he had shown 
 to me when I was a boy. He attended one of the 
 concerts of the Musical Union at which I played one 
 of his pianoforte trios and also a sonata by Beethoven, 
 the one in D major, Op. 10, No. 3. After the concert 
 he came into the artists' room, said some flattering 
 things to me about my performance of the latter, and 
 added, ' a fine sonata ; ' then, with a tone of astonish- 
 ment, ' und gar nicht veraltet ' (not antiquated) ; a 
 remark with which I totally agreed, but which struck 
 me as very superfluous. 
 
 In 1856 Manchester began to prepare for the 
 ' Art Treasures Exhibition,' which was to be held in 
 the following year, the musical part of which was 
 entrusted to me. The committee — Sir Thomas Fair- 
 bairn (then Mr. Fairbairn) was chairman — acted 
 with unparalleled energy, and succeeded in bringing 
 together a marvellous collection of masterpieces of 
 the different arts, such as I believe has never been 
 equalled since. Her Majesty the Queen visited the 
 exhibition, and how successful its whole career was, 
 what hosts of distinguished visitors it drew to Man- 
 chester until its close, is too well known to dilate 
 upon here. I was most anxious that music should 
 hold its own, and not suffer by comparison with the 
 other arts. To this end a first-rate orchestra was 
 absolutely necessary, an orchestra better than the 
 one of the ' Gentlemen's Concerts,' which, though a 
 vast improvement upon what it had been before, left 
 still much to desire. Fortunately the committee 
 agreed with my views, placed ample means at my
 
 ART TREASURES EXHIBITION L29 
 
 disposal, and I succeeded, not without considerable 
 trouble, in bringing together a thoroughly satisfactory 
 band by engaging competent performers from London, 
 Paris, Germany, Holland, Belgium, and Italy, in 
 addition to the best of our local players. Concerts 
 took place every afternoon, but I conducted only on 
 Thursdays. They were much enjoyed by crowds of 
 visitors, and soon became one of the chief attractions 
 of the exhibition. Thousands and thousands of people 
 from the northern counties there heard a symphony 
 for the first time, and it was interesting to watch how 
 the appreciation of such works grew keener and 
 keener almost with every week. The whole exhi- 
 bition was like a beautiful dream, justifying its 
 motto, c A thing of beauty is a joy for ever ! ' and 
 its elevating and refining influence cannot be over- 
 estimated. As usual, the Catalogue had its humorous 
 points by accidental interchanges of numbers : thus 
 a picture of King Lear on his death-bed was described 
 as ' There is life in the old dog yet,' and you could 
 daily hear the remark ' How true ! ' when passing it. 
 Another, representing a madman sitting stark naked 
 on the bare ground with his arms clenched round 
 his knees, was called ' Portrait of Lord John Eussell.' 
 An old man was heard to remark, ' Probably when 
 he was out of office ! ' 
 
 To this exhibition I owe my intimate friendship 
 with Richard Doyle — Dicky Doyle, as he was called 
 familiarly — the genial, gifted humorist and delightful 
 companion. My acquaintance with him had been 
 slight, but sufficient to warrant my inviting him to 
 
 K
 
 130 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 be our guest for a few days, and so to see the 
 exhibition. He came, promised to stay three days, 
 and remained two months, to our intense delight. 
 Daily we studied the marvellous pictures together, 
 and he opened my eyes to many beauties which I 
 might have passed by. He was no less quick in 
 seizing upon any comical figure that presented itself 
 in the motley crowd, and many were the pen-and-ink 
 drawings which in remembrance of them he put on 
 paper during our quiet evenings at home, and which 
 I preserve carefully. An oddity in the railway 
 arrangements during that time I cannot leave un- 
 noticed : a single ticket from London to Manchester 
 cost then 335., but a return ticket (from London to 
 Manchester and back) cost only 21s., and several 
 times have I seen people, who in ignorance had taken 
 single tickets, exchange them, when enlightened, for 
 return tickets, and receive 125. into the bargain. The 
 ways of railway directors are mysterious sometimes. 
 
 When the exhibition closed its doors in October, 
 1857, the orchestra which I had taken so much 
 trouble to form, and which had given such satisfac- 
 tion, was on the point of being dispersed to the four 
 points of the compass, never to be heard again in 
 Manchester. This was excessively painful to me, 
 and to prevent it I determined to give weekly 
 concerts during the autumn and winter season at my 
 own risk and peril, and to engage the whole band, 
 trusting to the now awakened taste for music for 
 success and perhaps remuneration. The necessary 
 preparations retarded the execution of this project
 
 FIRST ORCHESTRAL CONCERTS L3] 
 
 until January 30, 1808, when the first concert took 
 place before a scanty audience. I was not dis- 
 heartened, for I remembered how the Chamber Music 
 Society had grown from small beginnings, and judged 
 rightly that the crowds who had thronged the exhi- 
 bition did not specially come for the music, and that 
 concerts offering nothing but music, and at neces- 
 sarily higher prices of admission, stood upon another 
 footing. I felt that the whole musical education of 
 the public had to be undertaken, and to the dismay of 
 my friends I resolved to give thirty concerts, and either 
 to win over a public or to fail ignominiously. The 
 ' Gentlemen's Concerts ' were an exclusive society ; 
 none but subscribers were admitted and no tickets 
 sold. Before my advent they had never even pub- 
 lished the programmes of their concerts, and the 
 directors had only done so since 1850 at my earnest 
 request, because I objected to conducting concerts of 
 this clandestine sort. To the public at large sym- 
 phonies and overtures were therefore terra incognita, 
 and it was not to be expected that they would flock 
 to them at once. 
 
 Beethoven's symphony in C major headed the 
 first programme and was vehemently applauded by 
 the meagre audience. The loss upon the concert was 
 a heavy one, and was followed by similar losses week 
 after week, until my friends were debating whether 
 for the sake of my family I ought not to be locked 
 up, and I myself began to feel rather uneasy. It was 
 not before nearly half the series of thirty concerts 
 had been given that things took another aspect ; the
 
 132 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 audience gradually became more numerous and more 
 appreciative ; at last full houses succeeded each 
 other, and the day after the thirtieth concert my 
 managers and dear friends, Messrs. Forsyth Brothers, 
 brought me, with the statement of receipts and 
 expenses, ten brand-new threepenny bits, the profits 
 on the whole series — a penny per concert ! Perfectly 
 satisfied with this result, which I considered most 
 encouraging, I at once made arrangements for a 
 second series to be given during the winter season 
 1858-59. It consisted of twenty-seven concerts, but 
 for the third series I reduced the number to twenty, 
 and opened a subscription list, which soon was 
 adequately filled, showing that high-class orchestral 
 music had taken hold of the public and that my ven- 
 tures of the previous years had borne fruit. Since then 
 those concerts have continued to prosper and have 
 now reached their thirty-eighth season. The or- 
 chestra, at first only sixty strong, has gradually been 
 increased, until for the last ten years it has numbered 
 upwards of one hundred performers, and added to it 
 is a chorus of three hundred singers of uncommon ex- 
 cellence, for the performance of oratorios and secular 
 choral works. It is not my intention to write a history 
 of these concerts, I shall only allude now and then to 
 some of their more salient features, such as the pro- 
 duction of new or neglected works ; but I can look 
 with a certain pride at the catalogue of works per- 
 formed up to the present time (summer 1895), which 
 comprises 32 oratorios, 71 other choral works, 
 110 symphonies, 214 overtures, 205 miscellaneous
 
 ENGLISH 0PE1LV, 1860-1861 lo:J 
 
 orchestral pieces, 183 concertos with orchestral 
 
 accompaniments, and minor pieces without number. 
 In 18G0-G1 the concerts had to suffer an interruption, 
 as I was called upon to conduct a season of English 
 opera (organised by Mr. E. T. Smith) at Her Majesty's 
 Theatre in London, which counted Mmes. Sherring- 
 ton and Parepa, Messrs. Sims Reeves and Santley, 
 among its artists. 
 
 The most remarkable feature of the season was 
 the production of two new English operas, the 
 ' Amber Witch,' by Wallace, and ' Robin Hood,' by 
 Macfarren, neither of which however took hold of the 
 public in spite of some very clever and some charm- 
 ing pieces admirably sung. Both operas are for- 
 gotten now. Other works such as the 'Bohemian 
 Girl,' ' Fra Diavolo,' in English dress, and ' La Reine 
 Topaze,' by Masse, also given in English, were more 
 successful and drew larger audiences. All were sung 
 and acted to perfection. One performance of the 
 first-named of these operas I remember still with 
 considerable amusement on account of an odd inci- 
 dent. It had been substituted for another work in 
 which Mr. Sims Reeves had the principal part, this 
 gentleman having sent word in the morning that he 
 was suffering from hoarseness. When in the evening 
 I was crossing the stage to go to the conductor's desk 
 the call-boy ran after me shouting, ' Mr. Halle, we 
 have forgotten the child ! ' This very child has to be 
 seen sitting at the window when the curtain goes up, 
 and in ten minutes I had to commence the overture. 
 'Go, fetch one quick,' was my answer. * All right,'
 
 134 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 said he, disappeared, and before three minutes had 
 elapsed he came back with a struggling girl, about 
 five years old, in his arms, and followed by an apple- 
 woman whose daughter he had unceremoniously 
 captured in the Haymarket. The child was carried 
 off to be dressed whilst the mother was pacified by the 
 stao-e manager, and I was able to begin the overture at 
 the appointed time. At its conclusion I rang up the 
 curtain with some diffidence, but there sat the child, 
 neatly dressed, at the window with the nurse, and we 
 proceeded quietly with the opera. In the first scene 
 where the Polish Count (Santley) takes leave of his 
 daughter before his departure from home, the little 
 girl is brought to him and he has to sing a touching 
 and rather lengthy farewell ballad. So the child 
 came down on to the stage, but the moment she saw 
 the foot-lights and the public behind she yelled with 
 fright, screaming at the top of her voice. Santley, 
 however, was equal to the occasion. He knelt down, 
 threw his large cloak round the girl, took her head 
 under his arm and kept it in chancery, all the time 
 singing his ballad with the utmost pathos, unmindful 
 of the kicking feet and struggles going on under the 
 cloak, hardly perceived by the public. Madame 
 Parepa, a most excellent vocalist with a splendid 
 powerful voice, was of a colossal size, which led to an 
 amusing scene on the occasion of the performance of 
 ' Fra Diavolo,' in which she took the part of Zerlina. 
 When in the bedroom scene Zerlina undresses and 
 remains clad in white, Madame Parepa looked simply 
 enormous. Standing before the looking-glass, admir-
 
 MADAM E PAKEPA AND MADAME SIIKKKIXGTOX 135 
 
 ing herself, she has in the English version the 
 unfortunate words to say : — 
 
 There really is not much amiss 
 
 When you can boast of a figure such as this. 
 
 The moment she had uttered them the whole house 
 roared with laughter, renewed again and again. 
 After the performance Mme. Parepa asked me 
 innocently if I knew what had happened to make 
 people laugh so much, being totally unconscious that 
 she was herself the cause of the hilarity. 
 
 Another unrehearsed effect enlivened one of the 
 performances of 'Eobin Hood.' Mme. Sherrington 
 was Maid Marian, and Mr. Sims Eeeves Eobin 
 Hood. In the last scene Maid Marian brings the 
 reprieve to Eobin Hood, condemned to death, and 
 waving it rushes at him from the farthest end of the 
 stage. On this occasion Mme. Sherrington came 
 down with such impetuosity upon Mr. Sims Eeeves 
 that he, unprepared for the onslaught, was toppled 
 over, his head coming close to the footlights, and Maid 
 Marian on his back. Unable to shake her off at once, 
 he raised his head and blew with all his might into 
 the footlights which were nearly singeing him, thereby 
 causing an hilarity amongst the audience sufficient to 
 play havoc with the concluding scene of the opera. 
 
 The season being brought to a close, I returned 
 to Manchester with the intention of producing during 
 the following winter some interesting and striking 
 novelty at my concerts. After a good deal of cogita- 
 tion I fixed upon some of Gluck's operas, banished 
 from the stage, for which therefore the concert room
 
 13C LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 would be the proper place. ' Iphigenie en Tauride r 
 was the one I chose first, remembering how the 
 dramatic power of the music had in my younger days 
 in Paris drawn tears from my eyes when I was simply 
 perusing the score. From this self-same score I had 
 to copy the whole of the orchestral parts, none being 
 printed, and Gluck's scores being so carelessly 
 engraved, with so many and such extraordinary 
 abbreviations that to confide the task to an ordinary 
 copyist was out of the question. Chorley undertook 
 the translation of the libretto, Messrs. Chappell pub- 
 lished a neat vocal score, and on January 25, 1860, 
 the work was performed in the Free Trade Hall, 
 Manchester, with an enormous success. Mme. 
 Catharine Hayes, Messrs. Sims Beeves, L. Thomas, 
 and Santley, were the interpreters, and could not 
 well be surpassed in their respective roles. It had to 
 be repeated several times during the season, and 
 Messrs. Chappell undertook a similar performance in 
 London under my direction, and with the same 
 artists, which was equally well received. This led to 
 another private performance, remarkable in many 
 ways. Lord Dudley, that munificent patron of the 
 arts, asked me if I could give the work in his own 
 noble gallery, with a small orchestra and chorus, and 
 on my answering in the affirmative he left me 
 carte blanche, stipulating only that the very best 
 vocalists should be engaged, namely, Mme. Titiens, 
 Messrs. Sims Eeeves, Belletti, and Santley, and that 
 the band should include Messrs. Sainton, Piatti, 
 Lazarus, and others equally well known. I set to
 
 i. LUCK'S ' II'III'iKXIE EN TAUMDE' 137 
 
 work at once, trained a small but efficient chorus 
 from the Italian Opera, and after a few rehearsals one 
 of the most exquisite performances that I have ever 
 been privileged to listen to, took place. To my 
 surprise Lord Dudley had invited but few friends, 
 about forty, to share his pleasure ; but he was 
 thoroughly satisfied ; said to me repeatedly that he 
 had never had so fine a concert in his house, and 
 requested me to call the next morning with the bill 
 of costs. When I drew this up the sum total was so 
 enormous that I felt some anxiety as to how it would 
 be received, fearing that his satisfaction of the 
 previous day might be somewhat damped. I handed 
 it to him, and whilst examining it he spoke again of 
 the pleasure the performance had given him, made a 
 few pencil strokes on the document, wrote a cheque 
 and handed it to me, saying, ' / have doubled all the 
 terms ; it is the only way in which I can show my 
 entire satisfaction.' Such princely generosity is rare 
 indeed, and I was amazed ; still more so when he 
 added, ' Can you arrange for a second performance 
 soon ? But (with a smile) I suppose it will not be 
 necessary to double the terms again.' The second 
 performance did take place about a fortnight later 
 and gave equal satisfaction to all concerned. 
 
 Having produced ' Iphigenia ' for the first time in 
 England, I turned my attention to another of Gluck's 
 masterpieces, ' Armida,' the translation of which had 
 in the mean time been completed by Chorley. The 
 printed full score of this opera, dating from 1778, is, 
 if possible, in a worse and more misleading state than
 
 138 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 that of ' Iphigenia.' I could not, therefore, confide 
 the task of copying out the orchestral parts to an 
 ordinary copyist. Anxious, however, to be spared 
 such a labour myself a second time, I applied to 
 Berlioz, whose knowledge of Gluck and all his works 
 was complete, Gluck being one of his idols, and asked 
 him if the parts of ' Armida ' could be obtained in 
 Paris, where this opera had been so often given in 
 former times. I received the following reply, inte- 
 resting in more than one sense : — 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Je nous felicite du succes eclatant de 
 votre tentative pour reveler Gluck aux Anglais. II est done 
 vrai que tot ou tard la flamme finit par briller, si epaisse 
 que soit la couche d'imrnondices sous laquelle on la croyait 
 etouffee. Ce succes est prodigieux, si Ton songe combien 
 peu l'lphigenie est appreciable au concert, et combien l'ceuvre 
 de Gluck en general est inberente a la scene. Tous les amis 
 de ce qui est eternellement beau vous doivent, a vous et a 
 Chorley, une vive reconnaissance. 
 
 II n'y a pas d'autres parties separees d'Armide que celle 
 de l'Opera, et certainement on ne vous les preterait pas. En 
 outre elles contiennent une foule d'arrangements faits autre- 
 fois par Gardel et autres, et des instruments ajoutes par je ne 
 sais qui, dont vous ne voudriez certainement pas faire usage. 
 Vous avez l'intention de produire Gluck tel qu'il est. Force 
 vous sera done de faire copier les parties sur la partition, qui, 
 du reste, est l'une des moins fautives et des moins en de- 
 sordre que Gluck nous ait laissees. Sans qu'on sache pour- 
 quoi, l'auteur n'y a jamais employe les trombones ; il en est 
 de meme dans Iphigenie en Aulide. Dans Orphee, Alceste, 
 et Iphigenie en Tauride, au contraire, cet instrument joue un 
 role tres important. Dans Iphigenie en Aulide Gluck a fait 
 des chamjements pour quelques passages, et des airs de danse 
 qui ne se trouvent que dans la partition manuscrite de 
 l'Opera. Vous ne pourrez pas faire votre edition anglaise
 
 LETTER FROM BERLIOZ 
 
 139 
 
 bien exacte sans venir a Paris. Mais si ce n'est qu'une 
 edition pour le piano, le mal sera moins grand. Jamais, je 
 crois, il n'exista un compositeur plus paresseux que Gluck, 
 ou plus insoucieux de ses ceuvres, dont pourtant il paraissait 
 tivs fier. lilies sont toutes dans le dtlsordre et le desarroi 
 les plus complets. 
 
 Je n'ai pas, que je sache, ete attaque par Wagner ; il a 
 seulement repondu a mon article des ' Debats ' par une lettre 
 pn'tendue explicative a laquelle personne n'a rien compris. 
 Cette lettre amphigourique et boursoufflee lui a fait plus de 
 tort que de bien. Je n'ai pas replique un mot. 
 
 Adieu, mon clier Halle, veuillez me rappeler au souvenir 
 de Madame Halle et faire mille amities de ma part a Chorley 
 quand vous le verrez. 
 
 mi 
 
 H. Berlioz. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 My dear Halle,— I congratulate us on the brilliant success of your 
 attempt to reveal Gluck to the English. So it is true that sooner or later 
 the flame bursts forth, however thick may be the layers of rubbish under 
 which one thought it smothered. This success is prodigious, when one 
 remembers how little the ' Iphigenie' can be appreciated at a concert, and 
 how closely Gluck's works in general are bound up with the stage. All the 
 friends of what is eternally beautiful owe you and Chorley a great debt of 
 gratitude. 
 
 There arc no other separate parts of 'Armida' except those of the 
 Paris Opera, and they certainly would not be lent to you. Moreover, 
 they contain a host of arrangements formerly added by Gardel and others, 
 and additional instruments inserted by I know not whom, of which you 
 would certainly not make use. Your intention is to produce Gluck as he 
 is. You will, therefore, be forced to have the parts copied from the score, 
 which, however, is one of the least faulty and the least untidy which 
 Gluck has left us. For some unknown reason the composer nowhere 
 employs the trombones in it ; it is the same in ' Iphigenie en Aulide.' In 
 4 Orphee,' * Alceste,' and ' Iphigenie en Tauride ' on the contrary, this in- 
 strument plays a very important part. In ' Iphig6nie en Aulide ' Gluck
 
 140 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 The musical phrase which Berlioz quotes at the 
 his letter occurs in Iphigenia's grand air in 
 the second act, ' malheureuse Iphigenie,' and, with 
 lelodious, wonderfully vast sweep, is one of those 
 which even a great genius finds but 
 lorn, and thoroughly deserves the notes of admira- 
 tion added by Berlioz. 
 
 I had now to give up the hope of getting the 
 ; . parte from anywhere, for they had never 
 D printed, so I sat down and wrote them out 
 myself, as I have done for ' Iphigenia.' Trying as the 
 labour was it was still one of love, and I felt fully re- 
 ipensed when on September 28, 1860, I con- 
 ducted a performance which unfolded hitherto 
 unknown beauties to a vast audience. The success of 
 1 Armida,' if somewhat inferior to that of ' Iphigenia,' 
 was -'ill great enough to reward me for my trouble. 
 Manv years later I had the additional satisfaction of 
 g able to lend my parts to Mme. Jenny Lind 
 Gfoldschmidt for a performance at the 'Ehenish 
 deal Festival,' only made possible by the happy 
 circumstance that I had them in my possession. 
 
 ha» marie some changes for certain passages, and written some dance-music 
 
 to be found in the MS. score belonging to the Opera. You 
 
 i make your English edition very exact without coming to Paris. 
 
 Ij a pianoforte edition the harm would be less great. I 
 
 re never existed a lazier composer than Gluck, nor one more 
 
 works, of which, however, he seems to have been very 
 
 :ill in the most complete disorder and disarray. 
 
 I ha my knowledge, been attacked by Wagner; he merely 
 
 my article in the L/cbats by a pretended explanatory letter 
 
 one could ondi ratand. It w;is an inflated and bombastic letter 
 
 than good. I did not answer a single word. 
 
 ! die, pray remember me to Madame Halle, and say a 
 
 i aorley when you see him. — H. Berlioz.
 
 CONTINUED BY HIS SON 141 
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 By Charles E. Hallk 
 
 1865-1895 
 
 The last thirty years — Refining influence of music — An anonymous 
 correspondent — A token of gratitude from a ■working man — Letter 
 from an old member of the Manchester Choir — My father's respect 
 for his audiences — The training and recruiting of his hand — Achieve- 
 ments in the cause of music — Editorial work — ' Practical Pianoforte 
 School ' — Royal Manchester College of Music — Indomitable industry 
 — Railway travelling : amusing incidents — Chelford accident — Alfred 
 de Musset — Stephen Heller Testimonial- — A touching incident — A 
 faithful cabman — Love of children and animals — A poor sportsman 
 — Summer holidays at Cowes — Little Holland House — Interesting 
 letter from Ruskin — Projected farewell series of Beethoven Recitals 
 — Berlioz's Faust: first performance in England — A wonderful 
 memory — Business capacities — An unfounded report — A good whist- 
 player — Love of Reading — Religion — Death of his first wife — Second 
 Marriage— Children— A staunch Conservative — Knighthood — LL.D. 
 of Edinburgh — Royal Favours — Visits to Australia and South Africa 
 —The End. 
 
 It has been left to me to record the last thirty years 
 of my dear father's life, to take up the pen which 
 dropped from his hand the day before he died, and 
 to conclude the task he left uncompleted. 
 
 It will be a labour of love to recall and chronicle 
 those events in his life at which I either personally 
 assisted, or of which he spoke to me in the intimacy 
 of our friendship — a friendship which never from my 
 earliest childhood to the dav of his death suffered
 
 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 - htest break, or was marred by even the most 
 transient misunderstanding on either side. 
 
 The readers of the preceding chapters will have 
 formed an estimate of my father's character, of his 
 indefatigable industry, his entire devotion to his art, 
 his modesty, and his genial and lovable nature; but 
 it is only those who lived in daily association with 
 him who could fathom the depths of his kindness and 
 of his unselfishness, his sympathy, and the chivalry 
 which led him not only to forgive, but to conceal the 
 pain of any hurt he might receive. There never was 
 a kinder father or a better friend, and the void his 
 
 h has made, not only in his family, but in a wide 
 
 le of acquaintances, will be felt for many a year 
 to come. 
 
 It will be in vain for me to attempt to make this 
 chapter as interesting and amusing as those that 
 have gone before. Apart from my very inadequate 
 power :i- a chronicler, my father repeatedly told me 
 thai what lie would have had to say about the last 
 thirty years, the period from 1865 to 1895, which 
 i left to me to record, would be sadly lacking 
 in interest after the story of his youth and the most 
 
 iting portion of his career. 
 
 In undertaking the task I suffer from the extreme 
 
 ■je of not being a musician myself when 
 
 so much <>f what I have to say is connected with that 
 
 itiful art, of which my father was such an ardent 
 
 iple. A 'jreat love for it I do indeed possess ; my 
 
 chil rs were made familiar with the noblest 
 
 of Beethoven, Schubert, and Bach before I
 
 REFINING INFLUENCE OF MUSIC 143 
 
 left my cradle, and as my childhood and boyhood — 
 owing to delicate health — were spent at home, music 
 was the daily accompaniment of my life. In short 
 I have never ceased to feel that my early familiarity 
 with all that was most beautiful in the art of music 
 developed an understanding in me for other forms of 
 beauty which otherwise I might never have possessed. 
 And thus my own experience has made me rightly 
 understand the importance of the work my father 
 accomplished during the many years he laboured to 
 bring music to the ears and hearts, not only of the 
 rich, but of the most humble. 
 
 How many a factory hand or office clerk in the 
 busy towns of Manchester and the North of England 
 may have owed his only knowledge of what was 
 beautiful to the music he had an opportunity of 
 hearing at my father's weekly concerts during the 
 dreary winter months ! 
 
 It is impossible to believe that some element of 
 refinement has not been developed in the large 
 audiences of working men who, standing and packed 
 together in great discomfort as I have often seen 
 them, have yet listened for hours, and evidently with 
 much appreciation, to most intricate and delicate 
 music ; or that the taste thus formed in one direction 
 should not have had its effect in others, and possibly 
 have coloured their whole lives. 
 
 Every evidence of such appreciation was very 
 dear to my father, and the three following letters, 
 treasured among his papers, were found after his 
 death, along with many others of the same kind. The
 
 144 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 . from an anonymous correspondent, must have 
 been written in 1SIU : — 
 
 Sow Blight and subtle may be, and ofttimes are, the 
 links of that electric chain whose vibrations arouse in our 
 and thoughts that have long lain buried 
 tlu . n ■ tt ■ and similar thoughts filled my mind at the 
 
 . programme— a programme of the eighteenth con- 
 nth season of Charles Halle's unrivalled 
 Seven years ago he led such an orchestra, and 
 m the keys of his pianoforte such harmonies and 
 melodies as beforetime were reserved exclusively for the 
 wealthy. In the glass building prepared for the exhibition 
 :,vs we first listened to him, and the strains of 
 that delicioufl music floating through the building became so 
 • 1 with all that is most beautiful in painting and 
 BCnrptnre, that it is almost impossible to separate them. 
 Ami when the first notes of his band peal through the Free 
 ;• Ball, that noble, but now somewhat dingy, room 
 j tM rformed into a fairy palace, bathed in summer 
 bine, ami instead of a closely packed and (except in the 
 | seats) plainly-dressed audience, we see groups of 
 tired ladies, or distinguished-looking men sauntering 
 the galleries of paintings or gazing on the glittering 
 armour, or students intently absorbed in the contemplation 
 of some remarkable work of long ago. But we will suppose 
 tli.- dav a Thursday, the time 2 P.M., and by one accord the 
 loungers an- drawing towards the orchestra ; the discordant 
 emitted from various instruments being tortured into 
 light, fair-haired man bows slightly around, 
 ice, raises his baton, and the first note of some 
 lively overture, or it may be of some enchanting symphony, 
 - ; i tli" nave, enchaining the listener, who per- 
 holdj his breath, lest he should lose one note of 
 music; while over all glows the brilliant sun- 
 . :.'l the scent of summer air floats through the build- 
 circnmstances we first heard Charles Halle,
 
 AN ANONYMOUS CORRESPONDENT 145 
 
 and often as we have attended his concerts, the charm has 
 never failed. Last night — a wet, splashy February evening 
 — every sense of discomfort was dispelled, and all our interest 
 absorbed in the music, as if we heard it for the first time. 
 A very few moments after the time named on the programme 
 Charles Halle appeared, and the hush of pleased expectation 
 stole over the miscellaneous company assembled at the Free 
 Trade Hall. Glancing over the orchestra, we recognise many 
 familiar faces — Seymour in his accustomed place, though the 
 lapse of years has left unmistakable signs on his face and 
 figure, still discourses sweet music on his violin, which he 
 handles as if he loved it ; now he plays seriously, not as in 
 bygone times, when one has seen his gravity disturbed by 
 the frolicsome Jacoby ; the latter has now subsided into a 
 grave middle-aged man. De Jong is still there — and Baetens 
 — but Richardson is gone, and some few others we miss. 
 From this reverie we are aroused by the sharp tap of the 
 baton, and a flood of music flows around. This dies away — 
 a vocalist has the next part — then again the instruments 
 have their turn ; all is delicious, but we wait for the treat of 
 the evening, Charles Halle's solo on the piano ; the silence 
 which had previously reigned deepens and becomes intense 
 as we watch his fingers fly over the keys, wooing the music 
 from them. If it did not seem fanciful, I should say the 
 sensation is almost that of playing on one's very heart-strings 
 — we almost forbear to breathe. To those who have not 
 heard him I cannot convey any idea of the power and sweet- 
 ness of Hallo's playing ; while those who have had that 
 pleasure need no words on the subject from me. 
 
 This is a long essay to write upon a programme, but so 
 pleasant have been the thoughts and scenes that it conjured 
 up in my own mind that I fancied it might give pleasure to 
 others. The memories of the past seven years, the joys, the 
 sorrows, the perplexities and the anxieties that have marked 
 their course, are to me very much associated with these 
 concerts. I do not know that I have ever seen such vivid 
 pictures of the past as are painted for me by Charles Halle's 
 
 L
 
 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 D those I must not trust myself to write, or I 
 lid run on to a wearisome length, but will wind up my 
 ring by thanking you for the frequent pleasure you have 
 •i me by introducing me to these concerts. 
 
 The next letter was written on a long narrow 
 : paper such as is found in workshops : — 
 
 Nov. 10, 1873. 
 p ( . ar sir. — Saving had the pleasure of attending your 
 first concert this season, I beg to tender you my best wishes 
 for vour future success; and not having had the pleasure of 
 h<-:irinu r such a display of talent before, I felt most delighted, 
 ami beg you will please accept the small token I forward you. 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 An Operative. 
 
 The small token consisted of two yards of fine 
 white flannel, which my father carefully preserved 
 for many years. 
 
 The following is the second of two letters, the 
 first of which has been lost, from an old member of 
 his Manchester Choir: — 
 
 King City, Missouri, U.S.A. : 
 
 Nov. 16, 1884. 
 Sir. — Your kind letter of October 16, enclosing 
 ymr photograph, came duly to hand, for which please accept 
 my heartfelt thanks. 
 
 < >n looking at your photograph, your features seem so 
 lifelike that you don't seem to have altered since I last saw 
 which ia over twenty-two years ago. May you long 
 live and l<><k ;i.s well ! 
 
 I enclose you a copy of my photo., taken the day I was 
 
 sixty yean old. I do not know if you will be able to recog- 
 
 iii'-. I still keep up my interest in choral music. I 
 
 ill society here, and play the organ at church, 
 
 - mdav-school children to sing. This I have
 
 RESPECT FOR HIS AUDIENCES 147 
 
 to do in what little time I can spare from business. I have 
 given it up several times, thinking I was getting too old, 
 but no one seemed to take it up ; and I hated to see the 
 young folks without any one to lead them. So went at it 
 again. I guess I shall have to die in harness yet; but the 
 proverb says, 'It is better to wear bright than rust.' Hoping 
 we may meet where harmony never ceases, 
 
 I remain, dear sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 W.\i. Dickens, Senr. 
 Dealer in lumber, coal, and farm machinery. 
 
 My father had always the greatest respect for his 
 audiences, of whatever sort they might be, and never 
 gave them anything but the very best at his com- 
 mand, whether it was his own playing or the per- 
 formance of his orchestra. My mother used to relate 
 how on one occasion, soon after his arrival in Eno-land, 
 he and Ernst the violinist, with whom he was touring 
 in the provinces, arrived at a small town where 
 amateurs of music were so few that scarce a dozen 
 persons had assembled to hear them. From the 
 artists' room they could see how small was the 
 audience, and simultaneously exclaimed : ' Then we 
 must play as we have never played before ! ' They 
 kept their word, and at the close of the concert the 
 impulsive, highly-strung Ernst threw himself into my 
 father's arms, saying, ' Halle, we never played like 
 that in all our lives ! ' 
 
 To bring his band by training and careful recruit- 
 ing as near perfection as possible was the hobby of 
 his life, and to this end he spared neither trouble nor 
 expense. He never for a moment allowed any ques- 
 
 i. 2
 
 1 18 l.l I K OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 tion of money to stand in his way, and his agents 
 
 were often driven to despair by his engagements at 
 
 ruinous terms of artists who did not make the dif- 
 
 ace <>f a sixpence in the receipts; indeed, to my 
 
 tain knowledge, he several times gave cheques to 
 
 members of the band, or to singers whom he engaged 
 
 for the concerts, on his private banking account, so 
 
 thai he might escape the ' talking to' he knew he so 
 
 well deserved, if Messrs. Forsyth had got wind of his 
 
 rigs on. 
 
 It is not for me to say anything about the excel- 
 ce of the Manchester orchestra, or of the chorus 
 which he also formed there. They have been heard 
 in London, and the orchestra has played in all the 
 1< lading provincial towns in England, and at Edin- 
 burgh. Glasgow, Dublin, and Belfast, so that they are 
 both well known. It is obvious, however, that over 
 a hundred skilled musicians, recruited from the best 
 talent obtainable in Europe, playing constantly toge- 
 ther for years under the direction of an artist who 
 on terms of intimate personal friendship with 
 many of the composers whose works he interpreted, 
 formed an orchestra of quite exceptional merit, 
 which it should be the endeavour of the City of 
 Manchester to keep together under the baton of the 
 conductor who can be found to take my father's 
 pla 
 
 !• seems strange in the early part of these 
 
 memoirs to read how little a certain class of music, 
 
 b i- dow bo familiar, was known fifty years a«-o 
 
 thai even Cherubini did not know the
 
 EDITORIAL WORK 149 
 
 sonatas of Beethoven until my father played them to 
 him, and that in London until he came here they 
 had never been heard in public. What priceless 
 treasures of sweet sound were locked up until he 
 turned the key ! 
 
 To sive a list of all the works for orchestra and the 
 piano which he introduced for the first time in England 
 would include a large proportion of all the choral 
 works, symphonies, concertos, and chamber music 
 ever produced here ; nor was this all he achieved 
 in the cause of music. He edited a complete set of 
 Beethoven's sonatas, besides executing endless other 
 editorial works, and compiled a School for the use of 
 Students of the Pianoforte, which by easy grades 
 should conduct them from the elementary to the most 
 difficult stages of the art. He was largely instrumental 
 in founding the Eoyal Manchester College of Music, 
 which had been the dream of his life ever since 1852, 
 when he elaborated his scheme in a correspondence, 
 now unfortunately lost, with Mr. Adolf Meyer, but 
 which was only fulfilled in 1893. He was elected 
 first Principal of the college, and took the liveliest 
 interest in his duties and in the progress of the 
 students, but he was snatched away after two brief 
 years of labour in this field, in which he had hoped 
 to accomplish so much. 
 
 My father's industry was perfectly astounding, 
 and he must have had a constitution of iron, in spite 
 of his delicate health as a child, to go through the 
 amount of fatigue he did without apparent discomfort. 
 He was incessantly travelling ; but railway journeys,
 
 LIFE OF BIB CHARLES HALLE 
 
 og, never seemed to tire him. Many and 
 
 many a time he would travel, say from Manchester 
 
 Edinburgh, conduct a rehearsal in the afternoon 
 
 t in the evening, and return to Man- 
 
 the same night, reaching home at four or five 
 
 in the morning, and yet after a few hours' 
 
 p he would be quite fresh again and ready for 
 
 next day's work. Many and various were his 
 
 adventures on these journeyings, and he was never 
 
 tired of relating them. On one occasion he was 
 
 .w.l-iip in a train in Scotland, and he and his two 
 
 three fellow-travellers were nearly starved, when 
 
 the guard remembered that a fine pig had been 
 
 placed in the van. This unfortunate animal was 
 
 promptly converted into pork chops over the engine 
 
 and furnished an excellent supper, in spite of his 
 
 shrill protests at being immolated for the public 
 
 !. Another time the train he was in broke clown, 
 
 and as he was to play at a concert that evening he 
 
 ; on to his destination in a tender attached to 
 
 the engine. He dressed for the concert as he went 
 
 . and the two good-natured stokers helped him 
 
 i his clothes; but their valeting left marks on his 
 
 mt, which caused much amusement among 
 
 his audit nee when he at last reached the concert- 
 
 m. 
 
 r most amusing adventure was also con- 
 wit h the break-down of a train. On this 
 d my lather had a band of some fifty members 
 tra with him, and after a long and 
 delay it occurred to one of them to express
 
 A MUSICAL 'CHARIVARI' 1 5 1 
 
 his feelings of strong dissatisfaction at things in 
 general by an improvised solo on his instrument, 
 which happened to be a bassoon. This encouraged 
 others in different parts of the train to join their 
 lamentations to his, each man on his own instrument, 
 and soon night was made hideous by the most 
 lamentable sounds ever suggested by the goddess of 
 despair. Presently there came a move on the part of 
 the train of a few yards, when flutes and clarinets 
 set up the liveliest airs of rejoicing ; but again there 
 was a stop, and fresh wails of anguish smote the 
 astonished air. 
 
 My father was mightily enjoying the charivari, 
 and Mr. Straus, who was with him, was preparing 
 his fiddle to take part in it, when, happening to look 
 out of the window, they discovered they were not in 
 the open country as they had imagined, but in the 
 suburbs of a town. The inhabitants, awakened out 
 of their virtuous slumbers by the appalling din, were 
 leaning out of doors and windows in night attire, 
 with flat candlesticks in their hands, evidently by 
 their gestures protesting against the performance of 
 the Halle band, but the noise was so great they could 
 not be heard. Fortunately at this juncture a fresh 
 engine arrived, and the train escaped wreckage at 
 the hands of a population goaded to fury. 
 
 6 1 little thought I should ever travel with a life- 
 boat on either side of the railway carriage,' he once 
 quietly remarked on his return from a concert in the 
 Midlands at the time of a great flood. On our 
 inquiring if he had got wet, ' No,' he said, ' the water
 
 [52 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 did come in a little, but I put my feet up on the seat, 
 and fortunately the engine fire was not put out.' No 
 difficulties or hindrances ever prevented him from 
 doing all that was humanly possible to keep his 
 ments. The only time my father was in a bad 
 railway accident was on December 23, 1894, when 
 the terrible collision occurred at Chelford on the 
 I. a tf.-W. Railway. He was going to London with 
 his Bister and eldest daughter for the Christmas 
 holidays, and they had a miraculous escape, my 
 father's calm presence of mind never for a moment 
 jerting him. 
 
 Railway journeys, even unattended by adventure, 
 always gave him a certain amount of pleasure; 
 he liked them, he liked the rapid movement of the 
 train, the certainty of a few hours' respite from his 
 incessant occupations, and, strangest taste of all, he 
 adored Bradshaw. Nothing pleased him better, if 
 any of 08 were going a journey, than to look out the 
 trains, and the mention of an expedition to the Con- 
 tinent took him away from any other occupation to 
 arrange the whole tour, and present us with a way- 
 bill with the time of departure and arrival of all the 
 train- we should take neatly written out in his beau- 
 tiful handwriting for our guidance. 
 
 The only thing he thoroughly disliked was when 
 
 ins did not keep their time. I well remember 
 
 the ion on which he went to Eome, the 
 
 intry was in Hood, as Italy usually is in autumn, 
 
 I the bridges broken, which is also not an uncom- 
 moi. occurrence, and we were taken round by An-
 
 TRAVELLING ABROAD 153 
 
 cona instead of taking the usual route. Of course 
 my father worked it all out in Bradshaw, and timed 
 our arrival accordingly ; but, alas ! for the calcula- 
 tions of that trusty book, twelve hours after we were 
 due in the eternal city we were still slowly crawling 
 through a romantic but desolate-looking region some- 
 where in the centre of Italy, where the only food 
 obtainable was bad coffee, green apples, and unripe 
 grapes ; and it was then my father gave vent to his 
 sentiments — he did not say much, it was only ' What 
 would I not give to be in a railway carriage on its way 
 from London to Manchester,' but it summed up his 
 opinion of Italy and all things Italian better than 
 torrents of abuse. It was not till we had been a day 
 or two in Eome under the excellent care of those 
 admirable caterers to the wants of their fellow- 
 creatures — the brothers Genre, of the Hotel d'Angle- 
 terre — that he forgot the impression of that most 
 lamentable journey. 
 
 My father was a most delightful travelling com- 
 panion ; his interest in everything was intense. He 
 enjoyed his holidays immensely, and the most trivial 
 incidents afforded him a fund of amusement — his 
 great love for beautiful scenery and keen apprecia- 
 tion of painting and architecture made it a real 
 pleasure to go with him where such things were to 
 be seen. I well remember my first expedition abroad 
 with him ; it was to Hagen, his native town, when I 
 was about fifteen, and this journey was a very mo- 
 mentous one for me, as after I had duly made the 
 acquaintance of all my German uncles, aunts, and
 
 154 LIFE OF SIB CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Sins, I was taken to Diisseldorff, and afterwards to 
 ad given the choice of the two schools of 
 
 ting. I elected to remain in Paris, and was put 
 under the care of my dear kind old friend, M. Victor 
 Motfc .-. and worked in his studio for a year. Mottez 
 
 a pupil and great friend of the famous Ingres, so 
 thai during the happy months I spent with him I 
 mad.- the acquaintance not only of that great painter 
 but of many others of my father's early friends in 
 Paris, more especially Stephen Heller and Hector 
 Berlioz, whom I used to meet almost every Sunday 
 aing at the house of Madame Damcke, and who 
 always spoke of my father with the greatest affection ; 
 I, Bayard sans peur et sans reproche was Berlioz's 
 
 ription of him. A severe attack of bronchitis 
 
 having interrupted my studies in France, I was sent 
 
 to Italy to recover my health, and remained therefor 
 
 several years; but I always look back with keen 
 
 interest on the time I spent in Paris, as I gained an 
 
 ight into the artist life my father describes so 
 
 graphically in the early pages of his memoirs and 
 
 era. He evidently intended to say a great deal 
 
 more about the many interesting people he knew in 
 
 years he spent in Paris (between 1836 
 
 and L848), as his MS. shows that he broke off in the 
 
 middle of an anecdote about one of them, Spontini, 
 
 on with his own tale, evidently intending to go 
 
 k to that part of his memoirs and greatly aug- 
 
 • it. 
 
 [| must, indeed, have been a wonderful society 
 in which my father spent his time during those years.
 
 ALFRED DE MUSSET 155 
 
 He has dwelt more especially on the musicians with 
 whom he had intercourse ; but in the long conversa- 
 tions I had with Stephen Heller in 1886, when I 
 painted his portrait, many and many a name occurred 
 of men famous in literature and art who were their 
 daily associates. Victor Hugo, Balzac, Alexandre 
 Dumas and his son, Alfred de Musset, and Scribe, 
 were but a few of the brilliant host who daily met 
 and dined, or took their coffee together on the Boule- 
 vards. I asked Heller one day when he was talking 
 of those times and the days he and my father spent to- 
 gether, which of all these men had left the most vivid 
 impression on his mind ; without a moment's hesita- 
 tion he answered, ' Alfred de Musset.' He told me 
 that it did not matter who was present, nor who was 
 talking — Hugo, Balzac, Heine, or Dumas — everybody 
 ceased when Alfred de Musset opened his lips— his 
 individuality and personal fascination were so great. 
 There has never been in the world's history, I sup- 
 pose, a time when so many remarkable men in 
 literature, music, and art lived together as were found 
 in Paris during the twenty years from 1830 to 1850, 
 and where are they all now ? Only two are left that 
 I know of, our dear old friend Manuel Garcia, who i/ 
 is still with us here in London, and bears his ninety 
 years without a sign of discomfort, and my old 
 master, Victor Mottez, who lives in retirement at 
 Bievres, near Paris. These two have still memories 
 which are green, and many a tale have I heard from 
 them of the sayings and doings of these many merry 
 men of genius ; for merry they were, in spite of
 
 [56 UFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 the Btrugglea and poverty in which so many of them 
 lived. This aspect of their lives was forcibly brought 
 me by my father a few years ago. I was 
 at to dinner, and noticing that my waistcoat 
 ►wing marks of age, I went to my father's 
 ly to conceal the ravages of time by the applica- 
 tion of a little ink to certain white patches which do 
 not usually form portion of an English gentleman's 
 evening dress. My father watched my operations 
 with the keenest interest and delight, and when I 
 asked him what he saw in my threadbare garment to 
 cause him so much happiness, he told me that what 
 saw reminded him of his early days in Paris, when 
 an ink-bottle was the one essential requisite of his 
 and all his friends' toilettes. It was applied to hats, 
 its, hoots, cravats indiscriminately, and as he 
 added, • So many of us were poets, there was always 
 plenty of it about.' 
 
 ( If these men, who were at that time all poor to- 
 
 • ■]■. some afterwards achieved popularity as well 
 
 abundant prosperity; some, equally gifted, failed 
 
 >btain recognition, and some, again, fell upon evil 
 
 3 when advanced in life. Stephen Heller, the 
 
 imy composer and sensitive, nervous man, pushed 
 
 ride and neglected in the busy Paris of to-day, 
 
 of these; in addition to other misfortunes 
 
 .'■ nearly blind in his old age, and with the 
 
 sight lost the means of earning the little 
 
 i to support his modest existence. My 
 
 lather, who had maintained the closest intimacy with 
 
 ilfll'-r, I aware of his trouble and felt that this
 
 A TOUCHING [NCIDENT 107 
 
 could not, should not be, and that some among the 
 thousands who had enjoyed his music must come 
 forward and save the aged musician from want. A 
 * Heller Testimonial' was started, and soon enough 
 money was subscribed to purchase a small annuity 
 and enable our dear old friend to end his days in 
 peace. Their correspondence shows the infinite 
 trouble my father took in the matter, not the least 
 part of which was the difficulty of persuading Heller 
 to allow his necessity to be made known. 
 
 It may surprise those who know how popular 
 Heller's music has become, especially in England, to 
 learn that it did not bring in an adequate return ; 
 but the annals of art are full of similar cases. A 
 picture which may some day fetch thousands at 
 Christie's, a book which may run through many 
 editions, and a song which may be sung all over the 
 country will, as often as not, fail to produce anything 
 for the author or the artist but the most paltry sum. 
 Thus, the ' Wanderstunden,' by Heller, which is to 
 be found in the library of every musical amateur, 
 was sold out and out with four other pieces for 
 15/.! 
 
 The prompt sympathy which made my father 
 come forward to the relief of his old comrade is not 
 to be wondered at, but his ready willingness to assist 
 those in want who had no real claim upon him was 
 evinced in a hundred directions. His purse was 
 always open, and in many other ways was he ready 
 to give assistance when needed. A touching evidence 
 of this was given to us many years ago in Manchester,
 
 [58 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 when my father, returning to his house in Greenheys, 
 noticed that the old postman who was in the habit of 
 bringing him his letters had evidently been too gene- 
 igaled at the houses at which he had already 
 called— it was Christmas time— and was not in a fit 
 condition to deliver the rest of his letters. Knowing 
 that the poor man would be dismissed if his state was 
 
 Dvered or any mistake occurred in the letters 
 entrusted to his care, my father went the rest of his 
 round with him, delivering every letter to its proper 
 address, and, when the bag was quite empty, took the 
 postman home with him and did not let him go until 
 lie was quite sober again. It is gratifying to add 
 that the man was exceedingly grateful, never again 
 lapsed from the path of sobriety, and continued on 
 his old beat for some years afterwards. 
 
 Cabmen were also great friends of my father's ; 
 
 got on beautifully with them and they with him, 
 and many an amusing story would he bring home 
 about them, especially after a visit to Dublin. One 
 honest and worthy Jehu evinced his devotion in a 
 very striking manner. At the time of the Franco- 
 rrussian war it was rumoured in Manchester that my 
 father would have to go and serve in the German 
 army, so ' James,' for such was his respected name, 
 
 m to our house one evening and begged to be 
 allowed to take my father's place and go out as his 
 substitute to the seat of war. 
 
 My father was also very fond of children and de- 
 lighted in playing with them, especially with the little 
 urchins whom he met on his way to and from the
 
 LOVE OF ANDIALS 159 
 
 College of Music (about the longest walks he ever 
 took), half a mile each way ; but then he hated that 
 form of locomotion, except during his holidays abroad. 
 If he could catch a little boy unawares, he would take 
 off his cap or pull his hair, or have some other game 
 of the sort with him, generally followed by the gift 
 of a penny; but these friendly advances were not 
 always taken in good part. On one occasion, having 
 captured the headgear of a youngster aged about 
 four, the little rascal turned on him, to his great 
 amusement, and kicked him valiantly on the shins 
 until his cap was returned to him with all the honours 
 of war. 
 
 A great love of animals was another of my father's 
 characteristics. Every house he was in was sure to 
 contain birds, cats, and dogs, especially dogs. He 
 generally had 'Scot,' a collie, and a little terrier, 
 4 Clootie,' on either side of his chair at meal times, 
 and he did his best to induce them to occupy those 
 positions in his study ; but music and the smell of 
 cigars were tastes he had not in common with his 
 four-footed friends, and they generally deserted him 
 when he opened his piano or began to smoke. There 
 were pugs and other varieties of the canine race in 
 favour from time to time, and one day he announced 
 that a member of his band had presented him with a 
 fine Mount St. Bernard pup. At this, however, my 
 sisters rose like one woman and said the huge collie 
 was quite enough for him, and for them. So the St. 
 Bernard pup was returned, though not without many 
 heart-burnings on my father's part, who would gladly
 
 100 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 have kept him, and. indeed, for that matter, half a 
 •i like him. 
 
 Horses my lather knew nothing about. I don't 
 think it ever occurred to him that a horse had a 
 
 irate and distinct existence from a cab, or that it 
 was ever intended to serve man in any other fashion; 
 nor was In- much of a sportsman. On only two 
 
 &8ions did he sally forth with a gun, and on 
 neither did he achieve much glory. His first experi- 
 ence, soon after his arrival in England, was at Burton 
 Constable, in Yorkshire, when, to the dismay of his 
 host, Sir Clifford Constable, who kept a pack of 
 hounds and hunted three or four days a week, my 
 father came home one evening and proudly announced 
 that lie had shot — a fox. ' Mr. Halle, if you know 
 where you have left that fox, pray borrow a spade 
 from a gardener and go and bury it,' was all poor Sir 
 Clifford could say. 
 
 His second adventure was at Heaton Park in 
 Cheshire, where Lord Wilton sent him out one after- 
 noon to shoot rabbits, and lent him a dog. A rabbit 
 was soon put up and promptly missed. This 
 happened twice more, when his intelligent com- 
 panion looked up into my father's face and wagged 
 }\\< tail to show there was no ill-feeling. Evidently 
 
 -idering, however, that as their views of life were 
 
 different, further association was undesirable, he 
 trotted back to his kennel. My father accepted the 
 
 <>n and never again loaded a gun. On the other 
 hand he was very fond of fishing. Given a warm 
 
 rnoon, a slow stream or a pond, a comfortable
 
 SUMMER HOLIDAYS AT CO WES 161 
 
 chair, a boy to put on the bait, and a plentiful 
 supply of cigars, he would be perfectly happy for 
 hours, especially if now and then an ill-advised carp 
 would allow himself to be hauled out of his native 
 element — to be as likely as not put back into the 
 water after a brief sojourn on the bank by my kind- 
 hearted father. 
 
 Nothing, however, took my father away for long 
 from his beloved piano. Wherever he might go for 
 his holidays Messrs. Broadwood would send him one 
 of their big instruments, and much amusement have 
 we had in seeing the whole fisher population of some 
 seaside place turn out to trundle the big case up to 
 the house my father might have taken. Cowes was 
 for many years his favourite holiday resort, at first a 
 cottage at East Cowes, and later Egypt House, West 
 Cowes, a delightful place with a garden down to 
 the sea, at that time a school, but my father was 
 able to take it during the holiday months — August 
 and September. Here the piano, with many 'yo- 
 heave-hos' and other nautical sounds, would be 
 installed, and then how delightful it was on hot 
 summer nights to sit in the garden, or on the low 
 wall overhanging the sea, and hear the ' Moonlight ' 
 and other divine sonatas played as only my father 
 could play them. 
 
 Our dear friend Richard Doyle once wrote, in 
 refusing an invitation to repeat a visit to us there : — 
 
 I dare not run away for a day, because I know that once 
 in sight of the sea I should not be able to move from it. 
 And oh ! the Schuberts, Hellers, and the moonlight nights, 
 how I wish my eyes and ears were among them. 
 
 M
 
 152 l.Il'E OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 Many were the friends who would wander in to 
 listen with us, and certainly music heard under those 
 
 conditions has a charm 
 
 1 Ch' intender non la pu6 
 Chi non la prova.' 
 
 I do not know how much real musicians are 
 affected by the conditions under which music is heard 
 — whether to them it is a matter of indifference 
 whether they listen to it in a crowded concert room 
 or among surroundings such as I have described 
 above, but as to an artist a picture conveys quite a 
 different expression when seen in the church for 
 which it was painted, or when forming part of 
 the decoration of a beautiful room, from what 
 it does when hung in an auction room, so to 
 a mere amateur do beautiful surroundings and the 
 sympathy of friends enhance the pleasure derived 
 from music. 
 
 A house where all these conditions were enjoyed 
 to perfection was that lovely cottage in Kensington, 
 the home of the Prinseps and of Watts, Little Holland 
 House. 
 
 Here on Sunday afternoons in summer, men who 
 were famous and women who were beautiful would 
 
 emble; croquet and bowls, tea and strawberries, 
 would serve as accompaniments to merry, witty talk, 
 and here at dusk and often far into the night, my 
 father and Joachim would take to their instruments, 
 and convey the thoughts of the great masters of their 
 to the ears of Tennyson and Swinburne, Burne 
 
 W and Eossetti. Watts, Browning, Leighton,
 
 LETTER FROM IiUSKIN 1G3 
 
 Millais, Fred Walker, Doyle, and many another 
 poet and painter who lingered on to listen to them. 1 
 My father always delighted in having such men to 
 play to ; with painters, as he has himself said, he was 
 always safe — with litterateurs he was occasionally not 
 quite so fortunate. They were fond of talking and 
 found it difficult to sit long and listen, whatever other 
 sounds were being made, and at times matters fared 
 even worse. Some years ago, in 18G4, Professor 
 Euskin asked him to come and play to a school of 
 young girls in whom he was greatly interested. My 
 father readily consented, and as the Professor was there 
 himself, and it was the first time he had played to 
 him, he was careful to select what was most great 
 and beautiful, and played his very best. When it 
 was all over and my father was about to leave, one 
 of the girls told him she had been practising Thal- 
 berg's arrangement of ' Home, Sweet Home,' and 
 would very much like to hear my father play it 
 before he went away. He told her it was a pity 
 they should listen to a trivial thing like that after the 
 beautiful music they had just heard, but as she 
 appeared disappointed and some other girls came 
 forward with the same request, he gave way, sat 
 down again, and played it. To his chagrin, Paiskin, 
 who had been politely appreciative, now became 
 enthusiastic and told him that was the piece he liked 
 best far and away. Of course my father said 
 nothing at the time, but it got to the ears of the 
 
 1 An interesting record of this time is to be found in the portraits Mr. 
 Watts painted of my father and many celebrated men, lately presented by 
 him to the nation. 
 
 M 2
 
 \ {l { 1.1 n: OF SIR CIIAKLES HALLE 
 
 - rhow disappointed my father had been, so he 
 wrote him the following letter: — 
 
 Wilmington Hall, Northwich, Cheshire : 
 
 Dec. 3, 1864. 
 
 .. Mr HallS,— My 'children ' tell ine you were sorry 
 1 liked that 'Home S. H.' better than Beethoven— 
 tter sympathy from me. But how could 
 rou— with all your knowledge of your art, and of men's 
 lieve me, you cannot have sympathy from any 
 oghi person, respecting the higher noblenesses of corn- 
 It' 1 were with you a year, you could make me feel 
 them— I aui ( l uit( ' capable of doing so, were I taught— but 
 utmost you ought ever to hope from a musically-illiterate 
 
 is honesty and modesty. I do not — should not — 
 ■t you to sympathise with me about a bit of Titian, but I 
 
 x that you would, if I had a year's teaching of you, and I 
 know that you would never tell me you liked it, or fancy you 
 liked it, to please me. 
 
 But 1 want to tell you, nevertheless, why I liked that 
 1 1 S. II. I do not care about the air of it, I have no doubt it 
 is what you say it is— sickly and shallow. But I did care 
 about hearing a million of low notes in perfect cadence and 
 ii of sweetness. I never recognised before so many 
 in a given brevity of moment, all sweet and helpful. 
 I have often heard glorious harmonies and inventive and 
 nob! sion of harmonies, but I never in my life heard a 
 
 variation like that. 
 
 I had not before been close enough to see your 
 
 hands, and the invisible velocity was wonderful to me, quite 
 
 akably, merely as a human power. 
 
 ^ f.u must not therefore think I only cared for the bad 
 
 !<:— but it is quite true that I don't understand Beethoven, 
 
 1 • I never shall have time to learn to do so. 
 
 this scrawl, and let me talk with you again, 
 ■ lay. 
 
 • with sincere regards to Mrs. and Miss Halle, grate- 
 fully an fully yours, J. Ruskin.
 
 DINNER PARTIES L65 
 
 There was perhaps one further reason for my being so 
 much struck with that. I had heard Thalberg play it after 
 the Prussian Hymn. I had gone early that I might sit 
 close to him, and I was entirely disappointed, it made no 
 impression on me whatever. Your variation therefore took 
 me with greater and singular surprise. 
 
 In commenting on this letter my father never 
 would admit that he could not appreciate Titian 
 without instruction, and he had such a genuine love 
 for pictures and such a good eye that I felt with him 
 the Professor had failed to prove his case. 
 
 My father never went much into general society ; 
 big entertainments and receptions were a dreadful 
 weariness to him, and I can imagine the amazement 
 with which he received the confession from that 
 wonderful and delightful old lady, Mrs. Procter, when 
 sitting beside him at a dinner party, that she would 
 have one regret on her death-bed — the thought of the 
 many pleasant parties she had missed ! But genial 
 little dinners, especially when he could be sure of 
 meeting his dear friends, Joachim and Piatti, and of 
 discoursing music with them afterwards, he delighted 
 in. He has himself spoken of Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris, 
 of the many days he spent in Park Place, St. James's, 
 and at Warsash in Hampshire with those two friends, 
 for whom he had such a genuine affection and 
 admiration, but there were other houses at which he 
 was often to be found. Sir Alexander Cockburn's 
 was one of these ; Lady Eevelstoke's, Mrs. Benzon's, 
 Mrs. F. Lehmann's were others, and there was one 
 social gathering which he would never miss if he
 
 L66 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 could possibly help it, and that was Sir Frederick 
 
 htons annual party in the spring. He dearly 
 liked playing in a studio and among pictures, and one 
 of the dreams of his life was to found an institution 
 where the two arts should work in harmony together. 
 
 When the Grosvenor Gallery was started and I 
 was appointed one of the directors he thought his 
 opportunity had come, and for one or two seasons he 
 gave concerts of chamber music in the gallery ; but 
 as his recitals had formerly been always held in the 
 afternoon, the change of hour to the evening caused 
 much disappointment among his regular subscribers, 
 many of whom were students at musical colleges ; so 
 the Grosvenor concerts had to be abandoned, and 
 the venue changed to the Prince's or St. James's Hall. 
 
 Concerts and recitals have become a matter of 
 such every-day occurrence in London nowadays, 
 and so many pianists of amazing skill arrive here 
 each season, that my father no longer saw the 
 necessity of continuing his recitals regularly every 
 summer, and of late years they were somewhat inter- 
 rupted. It was, however, his intention to give a 
 farewell series of pianoforte recitals during the coming 
 spring (189G), in order to play all the Beethoven 
 
 Ettas once again in consecutive order, and he had 
 already fixed the dates ancl taken the St. James's 
 Hall for the purpose. With what devotion he would 
 have accomplished this final act of homage to the 
 
 infl of ihe hero in whose service he had spent his 
 lif<-. only those able in some degree to measure the 
 depth of his reverence for him can form any idea.
 
 BERLIOZ'S 'FAUST' 167 
 
 With the music of a Beethoven concerto he first 
 appealed to English ears more than half a century 
 ago, and in the quiet of his study, the room he loved 
 best, which he always quitted with regret and 
 returned to with eager pleasure, within the twenty- 
 four last hours of his life, he sat playing a Beethoven 
 concerto almost within the shadow of death. 
 
 From 1869 onwards my father's recitals had 
 ceased to be concerts for pianoforte alone, concerted 
 chamber music being regularly introduced as well as 
 an occasional vocal piece. The artists most con- 
 stantly associated with him were Mme. Norman 
 Neruda, Herr Straus, and Signor Piatti, and among 
 the many works introduced by him for the first time 
 in England were trios, quartets, and quintets by 
 Brahms, Dvorak, Saint-Saens, and other modern com- 
 posers. A list of all the works performed at his 
 Manchester Orchestral Concerts will be found at the 
 end of the volume. 
 
 In 1880 my father brought out a work at his 
 orchestral concerts in Manchester, the production of 
 which gave him the greatest pleasure and interest ; 
 this was Berlioz's 'Faust.' The Hungarian March 
 and the ' Ballet des Sylphes ' were well known, as 
 they had often been given at previous concerts ; but 
 to give the work in its entirety had been my father's 
 ambition for years, and he at last ventured on it in 
 spite of the doubts expressed by many of his friends as 
 to its proving a popular success. The concert excited 
 much interest throughout England, and many well- 
 known musicians repaired to Manchester to hear
 
 1GS LIFE OF SIR CHAELES HALLE 
 
 the first performance of a work which had been so 
 much discussed, and about which so many contrary 
 opinions were held. 
 
 The performance, which had been preceded by 
 many careful rehearsals, was at all points magnificent, 
 and reflected the greatest credit upon both band and 
 chorus, whilst the principal vocalists, Miss Mary 
 Davies, Mr. Lloyd, Mr. Hilton, and Mr. Henschel 
 rendered the solos admirably. The work was 
 received with so much enthusiasm that my father 
 gave it a second time during the same season, a very 
 rare proceeding on his part. Indeed, it is worthy of 
 note that during the thirty-eight years' existence of 
 the Manchester concerts, this compliment has only 
 been paid to the following great choral works : — 
 Handel's ' Messiah,' of which a double performance 
 t akes place every Christmas ; Handel's ' Jephtha,' 
 owim? to the remarkable success of Mr. Sims Eeeves 
 in 1868; Gluck's 'Iphigenia,' given three times in 
 the course of 1860; and the music to the 'Mid- 
 summer Night's Dream,' by Mendelssohn, given twice 
 in the season of 1857-58. 
 
 The following year, 1881, my father took his 
 band and chorus to London and gave a performance 
 of ' Faust ' at St. James's Hall, the soloists being the 
 same as in Manchester. Again the chef dceuvre of 
 Berlioz was received with acclamation, and both there 
 and in Manchester it has been repeated over and over 
 aifain with ever increasing popularity, whilst in 
 nearly all the greater towns of England it has been 
 performed with the utmost success.
 
 FIRST PERFORMANCE IN MANCHESTER 169 
 
 I went to Manchester for the first performance of 
 1 Faust,' and being anxious to know something about 
 it before the concert took place in the evening I 
 attended the rehearsal. A little incident occurred 
 which revealed to me my father's wonderful accuracy 
 of ear, and which I may be pardoned for repeating. 
 In the second part of ' Faust,' when the hero of the 
 legend meets his doom and is consigned to the 
 infernal regions, there occurs an interlude for the 
 orchestra expressive of the exultation felt by the 
 denizens of hell over their latest victim. When I 
 first heard this piece I felt inclined to think my father 
 had given carte blanche to every member of his band 
 to make any noise he liked, provided it was loud and 
 of a horrible nature. 
 
 When it was over, what was my astonishment to 
 hear my father quietly say : ' The second clarinet 
 played an E flat instead of an E natural in the eighth 
 bar. I hope he will take care not to do so at the 
 concert this evening ! ' 
 
 Musicians may possibly scoff at this anecdote, 
 and say that it is only what any good conductor 
 would have done ; but, as I said at the beginning of 
 this chapter, I have no knowledge of music, only a 
 great love for it, and an absolute faith that the 
 manner in which it was presented to me by my 
 father, whether in his playing on the piano or his 
 conducting of his orchestra, was the best of all. 
 Many pianists had greater executive skill, as he was 
 the first to admit, but none had his absolute forget- 
 fulness of self, none, I think, so limpid and liquid a
 
 170 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 touch when translating into sound the thoughts of 
 the master whose score he had before him. 
 
 This quickness of perception and clearness of 
 expression were part of his character as a man, and 
 were as remarkable in his speech as in his rendering 
 of music ; no one was ever left for a moment in 
 doubt as to what he meant, and I think it was this 
 gift which made even the most difficult music intel- 
 ligible to the unlearned when my father was at the 
 piano or in the conductor's chair. 
 
 At the end of one of his concerts the remarks 
 overheard were not so often ' How splendidly Halle" 
 played,' or ' How wonderfully he conducted,' as ' How 
 beautiful was that sonata,' or 'How glorious that 
 symphony;' and I think that was the highest tribute 
 that could be paid him, and the one which his modest 
 nature and single-minded devotion to his art most 
 appreciated. 
 
 Another gift my father possessed, and which never 
 failed to fill me with astonishment, was his marvellous 
 memory. A piece of music once read or heard 
 seemed to be indelibly imprinted on some portion of 
 his brain, and was there at his command whenever 
 he wanted it. A remarkable instance of this occurred 
 some years ago when Stephen Heller was here on a 
 visit to us. He and my father had been talking 
 about the evening on which the Revolution of 1848 
 broke out — how they heard the first shots fired as 
 they went for a stroll together before parting for the 
 night, and this naturally led them to recall the stirring 
 events of the next few months, events sufficiently
 
 A WONDERFUL MEMORY 171 
 
 exciting and momentous to them both to obliterate, 
 as one would have thought, all the incidents of the 
 quiet evening they had spent together on that fateful 
 night before they heard the firing. Presently Heller 
 said to my father : ' Do you remember, Halle, that I 
 had composed a little sonata on that day, and when 
 you came to me in the evening I asked you to play 
 it to me ? I wonder if you could play it to me now.' 
 ' Good gracious ! ' said my father, ' I have never 
 given it a thought from that day to this, but I'll try,' 
 and he sat down at the piano and played it through 
 without the mistake of a single note ! 
 
 In spite of this unfailing memory he would often 
 play, but would never conduct, without having the 
 score before him. He maintained that to give an 
 exhibition of his memory was not part of the pro- 
 gramme of the concert, and that however perfect his 
 recollection of a symphony or other concerted piece 
 might be, he had greater command over his band 
 when he could give all his attention to the proper 
 rendering of the work they were about, without being 
 distracted by any exercise of memory ; yet when 
 occasion demanded, his power of playing and con- 
 ducting by heart never failed him, and very useful at 
 times did it prove. Once, when about to go on the 
 platform to play the Kreutzer Sonata with Lady Halle, 
 he discovered that the music had been left at home. 
 ' Never mind,' he said ; ' let's play it without,' and 
 they went through it without a wrong note. 
 
 My father's excellent memory was not confined to 
 music. It combined with a love of accuracy and
 
 172 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 order, and that power of calculation, so often accom- 
 panying the musical gift, which he possessed in a 
 high degree, to make him a splendid man of business. 
 
 From the early part of October to the middle of 
 March he had to make, year after year, arrangement* 
 for from two to five concerts every week, some in 
 Manchester, others in different parts of England, 
 Scotland, or Ireland. These concerts were either 
 orchestral, when his whole band accompanied him, 
 or recitals of chamber music, where the peifoni 
 were Lady Halle and himself. The correspondence, 
 the business arrangements, the selection of pro- 
 grammes for all these different towns, and the < 
 that had to be taken not to give the various audience! 
 the same piece twice over within a given time, in- 
 volved an enormous amount of work, and yet my 
 father never kept a secretary, and had every di 
 of this vast business so clearly in his head that he 
 was never at fault, and would often send his 
 agents instructions about financial arrangements, 
 programmes, &c, when he was on a journey away 
 from his letters and note-books. 
 
 The quickness with which he despatched his cor- 
 respondence always filled his family with astonish- 
 ment. He would sit down to his study-table with a 
 pile of letters before him, yet in an incredibly short 
 time they were all disposed of. His system was 
 answer, or file for reference, each letter as it came, 
 before he opened the next, and however hurried he 
 might be, he never showed in his handwriting, which 
 was faultlessly clear and beautiful, nor in what he
 
 AN UNFOUNDED RUMOUR 173 
 
 wrote, any sign of haste. His business letters were 
 models of conciseness, with never a word too many 
 or too few, while he seemed to have an equal 
 facility in expressing himself in English, French, 
 or German. 
 
 He would probably with his business capacities 
 have been very successful financially as well as 
 artistically in all his undertakings had not his artist's 
 temperament run away with him whenever it became 
 a question of money being weighed in the balance 
 against music. Music was his goddess, who had 
 always to be decked in the richest raiment, and all 
 other considerations vanished in face of the primary 
 aim of making his concerts as good as money could 
 make them. He would calculate the expenses and 
 receipts with the greatest facility, and audit his 
 accounts to the fraction of a penny ; but whether the 
 balance was to or against his credit was always a matter 
 of comparative indifference so long as the concert had 
 gone well. This and a large-hearted generosity led 
 him to live up to his income without much thought 
 for the future, though he was singularly simple in his 
 habits and content with very little. He was neither 
 a speculator nor a gambler. A report did once cer- 
 tainly get about that he spent a great deal of time at 
 the card-table, and the rumour became so prevalent 
 that a good-natured friend was at last urged to 
 remonstrate with him about it. My father naturally 
 expressed indignant astonishment that such an un- 
 founded statement should have been circulated, when 
 to his amazement he was told that his first wife, my
 
 174 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 mother, was the author of the report. It seems my 
 poor mother had once told a friend how distressed 
 she was that my father, after working hard all day, 
 would not go to bed and take his proper rest, but 
 would sit up playing till far into the night. She 
 meant playing the piano, but her friend, probably 
 through imperfect knowledge of French, had con- 
 strued this into playing at cards, and had straightway 
 gone and announced from the housetops that my 
 father was an inveterate gambler ! 
 
 He was certainly a very good card-player and 
 dearly loved a rubber of whist when he could find 
 time for one, but this was not often of late years, as 
 he could seldom go to his club. His favourite game, 
 so often mentioned in his Australian Diary and in his 
 letters, was one called ' Sixty-six,' at which he had 
 mighty encounters with Joachim, Piatti, and espe- 
 cially with Straus when travelling about the country 
 from one concert to another — the stakes were always 
 sixpence a game, and great was the triumph of the 
 one who could boast, after a journey say from 
 London to Edinburgh, of winning half-a-crown. 
 Another form of card-playing he much indulged in 
 was of a still more innocent nature. He would sit for 
 hours of an evening when he really needed rest, 
 finding relaxation for his mind in trying to work out 
 problems of Patience with two packs of cards. He 
 never cared for them unless they were exceedingly 
 difficult, and many failures only seemed to spur him 
 to further efforts. That this had been for many 
 years a favourite amusement with him is proved by
 
 LOVE OF READING 175 
 
 the following charming note addressed to him by 
 Fanny Kemble, the celebrated actress, in 1853 : — 
 
 ' fi Albany Terrace : Mardi, le 29 Juin. 
 ' Cher M. Halle, — Si jamais dans le malkeur, la maladie ou 
 l'ennui (et Dieu vous garde egalement des trois fleaux) vous 
 prenez entre vos mains ces petites cartes, puissent-elles vous 
 rendre en " patience " tout le bien que vous m'avez fait — et 
 rappeler a votre souvenir votre tres reconnaissante 
 
 ' Fanny Kemble.' ! 
 
 Another favourite game was chess, which my 
 father played very well, and I have in my possession 
 a sketch by Dicky Doyle representing my father and 
 Manuel Garcia absorbed in a game. 
 
 My father was a man of so much energy and 
 activity of mind that idleness was irksome to him in 
 the last degree. His form of rest from work was to 
 take up some other pursuit, either, as I have said 
 above, the solution of some difficult problem of chess 
 or cards, or else a book. He was a great reader, 
 and it is astonishing how much he read considering 
 the number of hours he gave each day to his work. 
 Unlike his friend Heller, whose thoughts always 
 dwelt on the past and whose favourite author was 
 Horace, my father with his strong vitality and love 
 of life lived in the present day and with authors who 
 were his contemporaries. Books of travel and 
 adventure, the history of this and of the latter half 
 
 1 ' Dear Mr. Hall6, — If ever in sorrow, in sickness or distress (and God 
 guard you ever from all three scourges) you take these little cards in your 
 hands, may they return to you in " patience " all the good you have done 
 me — and recall to your remembrance your very grateful 
 
 'Fanny Kemble.'
 
 176 LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 of the last century, works of fiction by living French 
 and English writers, the topics of the day and the 
 latest discoveries in science— all interested him 
 
 greatly. 
 
 In religion he was a Catholic, the faith of his 
 first wife, my mother, who died in 18G6 ; of his 
 second wife, Wilhelmina Norman-Neruda, widow of 
 L. Norman of Stockholm, whom he married in 1888 ; 
 and of the nine children his first wife gave him, eight 
 of whom are still living. 
 
 In politics he was a staunch Conservative, but I 
 regret to say his interest was never keen enough to 
 overcome his objection to recording his votes at 
 election times. He somehow connected polling- 
 booths with jury-boxes, and thought if he did his 
 duty as a citizen in the former capacity he might be 
 called upon to serve in the latter, to which he had a 
 particular objection. He thought too by remaining 
 quietly at home when a parliamentary election was 
 going on, the officer whose business it is to collect 
 jurymen would forget his existence and leave him 
 alone, and whatever grounds he had for building up 
 this theory it certainly is a fact that only once was 
 he ever called upon to serve on a jury. I shall never 
 forget his consternation when he received his 
 summons, but his friend the Lord Chief Justice, Sir 
 Alexander Cockburn, to whom he at once repaired 
 in his trouble, arranged matters for him and got him 
 off, and I think must have asked that his name 
 should be taken off the list of possible jurymen per- 
 manently, as he was never called upon to serve again
 
 PEACE AND GOODWILL TO ALL MEN 177 
 
 either in London or in Manchester. Curiously 
 enough my father had a much greater dread of the 
 jury-box than of another place connected with it, 
 generally considered a still more unpleasant abode 
 — the jail. He often playfully said that nothing 
 would please him better than to be locked up as a 
 first-class misdemeanant for three months with lots of 
 books, there were so many subjects he would like to 
 study, and for which he would never find time 
 whilst he was left at large, and had access to a piano. 
 I am glad to say that neither Sir Alexander Cock- 
 burn nor two other Lord Chief Justices of England, 
 with whom he was on terms of friendship, Lord 
 Coleridge and Lord Eussell, have indulged this whim, 
 and that he refrained from courses which would have 
 brought him within the pale of the law on his own 
 account. 
 
 My father was a great respecter of law and con- 
 stituted authority and desired to be at peace with all 
 men ; he had many friends and but few enemies, 
 except amongst those to whom all success in their 
 fellow men is a source of dislike and enmity. He 
 was slow to anger, but when his wrath was roused 
 he was, I am bound to say, a very hard hitter. 
 Criticism on his own account he cared nothing about, 
 but woe to the luckless wight who threw a stone at 
 one of his gods in his presence, and who, to glorify 
 some modern composer, would decry one of the great 
 masters of the art of music. My father had a fine 
 command of words which his great knowledge, un- 
 failing memory, and accuracy, enabled him to use 
 
 N
 
 ITS LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 with much effect, and would reduce even the most 
 truculent adversary to silence in a very short time. I 
 used to love to be present at one of these encounters, 
 but they were rare : ' peace and goodwill to all men' 
 mighl have been his motto through life, and I am 
 sure even his opponents soon forgot and forgave 
 what was never meant in malice. 
 
 Of the many proofs of friendship and esteem, public 
 and private, which my father received, I do not think 
 that any, not even his knighthood, conferred in 1887, 
 gave him so much pleasure as the doctor's degree 
 con terred upon him at Edinburgh. He had the robes 
 made for him, sat to me for his portrait in them, and 
 expressed a wish that he might be buried in them — a 
 wish which, needless to say, was piously observed by 
 us when the sad time came for giving effect to it. 
 H.M. the Queen was always very kind to my father and 
 showed him many marks of her favour ; he was often 
 bidden to Windsor, Balmoral, and Osborne, to play 
 to her and to the late Prince Consort and to give 
 instruction or to play ' a quatre mains ' with her 
 daughters. The Princess of Wales was also a pupil 
 of my father's, and one for whom he had the greatest 
 regard, as her talent was considered by him of a 
 very high order. Both Her Eoyal Highness and 
 the Prince of Wales treated my father with great 
 affection and friendship, and he was often a guest 
 at Sandringham and Marlborough House. The 
 numerous extracts from my father's diaries and letters, 
 translated, collected, and arranged by my sister at 
 the end of this volume, make it unnecessary for me to
 
 LAST JOURNEYS 179 
 
 add much more to these brief notes, and the reader 
 will doubtless be anxious to return and listen to my 
 father himself. His account of his two journeys to 
 Australia and of his visit to Africa last summer will, 
 I think, be read with interest, more especially the 
 latter, as he and Lady Halle went on their peaceful 
 errand of music to Johannesburg and other places in 
 the Transvaal only a few weeks before they became 
 the scene of so much strife and disorder. It was also 
 my poor father's last journey on earth, but little did 
 we think so when he returned home full of health 
 and spirits and apparently stronger and better than 
 he had been for some time. 
 
 He came to a private view at the New Gallery a 
 few days after his return to London, and meeting 
 Manuel Garcia there, said to him : ' Eh bien, nous 
 sommes toujours la, mon vieux,' to which Garcia 
 replied, ' Je crois bien, nous sommes si occupes nous 
 n'avons pas le temps de mourir.' Alas ! Death and 
 Time go hand in hand, and both work and play must 
 go down before them. Within a fortnight the younger 
 of these two old friends and valiant workers was 
 snatched away. 
 
 I cannot dwell upon my father's death — it was 
 too heavy a blow for us all and too recent, but for 
 him it was in its suddenness the most merciful ending 
 he could have had. My father's love of life, happiness 
 in his work and surroundings, and superabundant 
 energy made the thought of death singularly distaste- 
 ful to him. He would never talk about it, and, I 
 think, contemplated it as little as possible : when it 
 
 j: 2
 
 ISO LIFE OF SIR CHARLES HALLE 
 
 came he had no knowledge of it at all, and was spared 
 all Buffering of mind or body, though I feel that had 
 it been otherwise he would have borne all with the 
 courage, fortitude, and resignation he had shown 
 throughout his life whenever pain or misfortune 
 came upon him. 
 
 Music, in which my father may be said to have 
 been born, which was his ruling passion through life 
 and in which he died — as he carried his work on to 
 within a few hours of his death — was to him some- 
 thins more than an art : it was a sacred mission. He 
 believed that music, which from all time has accom- 
 panied man in his strongest moments of joy and 
 sorrow, which stirs him to deeds of courage and is 
 his ultimate expression of love and praise, is a force 
 for good, which cannot be gainsaid. He believed, as 
 all lovers of music believe, that it is above the power 
 of words in its influence on the spiritual side of man's 
 nature, and that many a heart has been stirred to a 
 sense of what is good and beautiful through music 
 which otherwise might have gone through life uncon- 
 scious that such things are. It was this faith that 
 made my father's work of such absorbing interest to 
 him, and which made him choose as the field of his 
 labour those busy manufacturing towns of the north 
 of England, where men's lives are spent in work — too 
 often mere monotonous drudgery, and amid sur- 
 roundings of dirt and ugliness such as the world has 
 never seen before. To these grimy workers, to these 
 makers of ships and of guns, of engines and of fabrics, 
 whose ears were wearied by the ceaseless noise of
 
 THE END 181 
 
 machinery, he brought the strains of the most ex- 
 quisite music ever heard by man, and made them for- 
 get, if but for a few minutes, the office and the 
 workshop, and remember that existence has other 
 things to offer. This was my father's life and work 
 for nearly fifty years spent in England. He may 
 have had a mistaken idea of the power of music and 
 overrated the importance of it as a refining influence 
 in men's lives, but he acted from the highest of all 
 motives, and the work he did he did thoroughly and 
 well. 
 
 On the morning of Friday, October 25, 1895, 
 after a few hours' illness, he passed peacefully away. 
 Requiescat in pace.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Darmstadt : June 18, 1836, 10 A.M. 
 Beloved Parents,— Late last night I arrived here, at last, 
 and already I feel compelled to sit down and have a little 
 chat with you ; I hope it may do me good ; I then can see 
 vou standing before me and the hateful distance that separates 
 us disappears. As the ship took me away from you, and as 
 I gradually lost sight of you, then I first fully realised how 
 hard the parting was ; it seemed, and it still seems, like a sad 
 dream that I shall not see you, my dear ones, for such a long 
 time, and it will be long before I get accustomed to the reality. 
 i >u stood motionless on the bridge, looking after me, it 
 seemed impossible that I should see you and not be near you. 
 I felt as if I must break away and fly to you, as if I could 
 never separate myself from you ; I should have liked to have 
 waved my hand, but I could not move, and I had to bite my 
 lips not to cry aloud and expose my tenderest feelings to the 
 ridicule of those around me. As you disappeared from my 
 r, I was obliged to sit down, my knees trembled so ; I 
 saw and heard nothing more. Oh ! if I could only have seen 
 : embraced you once more — only once more ; but I was 
 taken ever further from you ... A year is short, but far 
 from you it seems an eternity. As soon as I found myself 
 alone I could not keep back my tears, and I wept aloud ; it 
 did me good. You can imagine that the first day of my
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 183 
 
 journey was quite lost to me ; it was impossible to notice my 
 surroundings, however beautiful they might be. I thought 
 only of you, and always of you ; all your love, all your care 
 came back to my remembrance. Now I clearly feel that the 
 happiest time of my life is past. I must break off here or I 
 shall get too sad. Later I will, if possible, write of indifferent 
 things ; only, I implore you, show the above lines to nobody, 
 not even to my aunts, for no one understands what I feel for 
 you. I had to give vent to my feelings, and if I could only 
 say all I feel, you would know how much I love you, but 
 I cannot put it into words. 
 
 June 21. 
 
 As you know by the beginning of this letter, I arrived 
 here on Friday, the 17th, without accident, at half-past 
 nine, tired and exhausted, but now I am quite well. The 
 morning after my arrival, having rested long and taken my 
 coffee, I went to the Court apothecary ; Flashoff, however, 
 was not there, as he works at a laboratory outside the town. 
 I got myself directed, and at last found it after a deal of 
 running about. Flashoff welcomed me warmly ; he is a dear, 
 kind man, and how glad I am to have him here, you can 
 imagine. He was just distilling and could not leave his work, 
 so I remained with him until it was finished, which lasted an 
 hour. By then it was midday, and as I did not care to get 
 to my lodgings just at meal time, I went back to the 'Grapes' 
 with Flashoff ; we ate together, and after dinner went at once 
 to my lodging. The old Hofrathin received me very kindly ; 
 she had sent twice to Flashoff to inquire if I was coming. I 
 am pleased with my rooms. My sitting-room is beautifully 
 papered, but the furniture is bad and quite unworthy of the 
 walls. My bedroom is not very beautiful, but I shall make 
 the best of it ; but how different it was at home, my dear 
 ones ! I am perfectly satisfied with the food, and that is the 
 principal thing. The best proof that it is good lies in the 
 fact that six young men, who are free to go where they please, 
 have come here for their meals for years. Also, the Hofrathin 
 is highly spoken of by all, and especially, what I most value,
 
 134 LETTERS 
 
 by our old Rinck. To him, now my master, I went on the 
 afternoon of the same day. My heart beat a little ; I had 
 imagined an old, dry, and perhaps crabbed pedagogue, but 
 how° pleasantly was I surprised ! He greeted me with the 
 most unaffected cordiality and a hearty shake of the hand. He 
 
 strong, stately man ; no one would say he was sixty-six 
 years of age. I should have said fifty-three or fifty-four. He 
 sent at once for a bottle of wine, but I thanked him and 
 declined on the ground that I had brought a little cough with 
 me from the Rhine, so he drank several glasses alone to your 
 good health and to mine. He inquired after you, and charged 
 me with his greetings, then he talked of music and of my 
 own piano-playing. Through all he said shone the greatest 
 o-oodness of heart. In this first hour of intercourse he won 
 my affection. When we had deliberated for an hour upon 
 music, and he had spoken of several of his pupils, he said 
 that as the weather was beautiful, he would like to take me 
 to the prettiest spot near Darmstadt, that I might have a 
 good first impression of my present place of sojourn. He 
 took his stick, and led me up a steep hill to the Ludwig's- 
 hohe, a fine open place on the top of it. This man of sixty- 
 six clambered up so quickly it was all I could do to follow 
 him. The view from this height is enchanting ; one can see 
 five or six different parts of the Rhine, winding through the 
 enormous plain, and the towns of Mayence, Worms, Trier, 
 Mannheim, and many more. Darmstadt lies at one's feet, on 
 one hand the Bergstrasse and on the other the Taunus range 
 of hills. But of this also I shall write more in my next. Of 
 Rinck only this, that I am to have my first lesson this after- 
 noon and that he will give me four lessons a week. 
 
 Xow, I have only one piece of work before me which 
 I rather dread — the unpacking "of my trunk. The Frau 
 Hofrathin has offered to help me, but I prefer doing it alone, 
 for I know what is before me : that every article I take out 
 will remind me of all the tender love and all the trouble with 
 wliich you, dear mother, have cared for me ; all the work 
 and labour which you have so unweariedly devoted to me will
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 185 
 
 pass before my eyes. Yes, that will be a sad hour for me. 
 I had a great deal more to say, but I must soon come to a 
 stop for want of room. Now, write to me soon, very soon. I 
 shall not feel easy until I have heard from you and have some 
 of your dear handwriting before my eyes. Tell me if you 
 returned home the same day that we parted, or if you went 
 to Bonn — how much I wish the latter for you ! You must 
 really both of you write, and the two little ones also. Bernard 
 will be able to write a word or two himself, and you can 
 guide Anna's hand ; I must have something from each of you, 
 and you will do it, will you not ? But in order that you can 
 write to me, I will give you my address : bei Frau Hofrathin 
 Stockhaus, in der Bau Strasse ; you must not forget ' in the 
 Bau Strasse,' as there are many Stockhauses here. Now, I 
 have one more request, and you must not laugh at me. Tell 
 me, in your letter, of one day and hour on which you will 
 think for certain of me. Oh ! how happy I should be to be 
 able to say : ' Now, now they are thinking of me at home ! ' 
 It will seem as if we were for an hour in our cosy little room 
 together : on the sofa you are sitting, dear father, with your 
 pipe ; you, dear mother, and I close by ; our two dear little 
 ones are on the sofa near my father, and he plays with 
 them. Heavens ! when this comes so vividly before me, I 
 cannot keep back the tears, and it seems impossible that I 
 can bear to be so long separated from you ; my only 
 hope is that when I have a great deal to do it may 
 distract my thoughts. Now, my dearest parents, and 
 you, dear children, lebt alle wohl ! Write to me soon ; 
 write all, and grant the request I made above. Also inform 
 me how often you will write, and how often I may write to 
 you ; remember me to all my relations, to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Elbers, and to the whole choral society. I kiss you, dear 
 parents, and the children, a thousand times. Write and tell 
 me that you dearly love me ; as much as I love you, you 
 never can ! I will certainly be industrious, and do all that 
 you wish me to do ; I know no greater happiness than to 
 please you. Now be careful to keep well, but if you are
 
 Ig6 LETTERS 
 
 in the slightest degree indisposed be sure you write and tell 
 me. Now good-bye, father, mother, Bernard, Anna, Aunt 
 Lotta farewell, and think often of your ever loving son and 
 brother, Carl HALLfi ' 
 
 II 
 
 TO HIS PAKENTS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Darmstadt : July 6, 1836. 
 Beloved Parents, — Your dear letter caused me indescri- 
 bable pleasure, all the more that I had not expected it nearly 
 so soon; thanks, a thousand thanks, that you granted my 
 request, and all of you wrote. Oh ! how often I have read 
 it, and put it by, and then taken it again, thinking I might 
 have overlooked something ; bat you might have written 
 much smaller and closer together, and made more of the 
 small space which, alas ! is all one has for a letter. Take 
 example from me ; I could write you a whole ream, and then 
 I should not have put down nearly all I had to say. I am 
 only sorry that Mino [his dog] was too busy to write to me ; 
 I should so have liked to see his handwriting. When I 
 first opened your letter I looked at once for the bill of 
 health, and only after having found that, thank God, you are 
 all well, I began to read the letter through, and now will 
 answer all your questions. 
 
 I have overcome my depression by dint of hard work, 
 and, in my moments of leisure, by going to Flashoff, whom 
 I like more and more. To guard against falling into it 
 again, which I know would be bad for me, I have resolved 
 not to mention it in my letters, and should I be tempted to 
 do so, then I shall say : ' Ab ! fertig ! von oben herunter ! ' 
 and stop writing; therefore, no more of it. Next in your 
 letter come the greetings to Rinck which I delivered at once, 
 and told him that you, dear father, hoped to thank him 
 onally, which pleased him greatly ; you were not quite 
 unknown to him, he had read your praises in either the 
 'Iris' or the 'Eutonia' (two musical papers), neither of
 
 TO HIS TARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 187 
 
 which you will have seen. Einck promised to send a few 
 lines for you to be enclosed in this letter, but should I not 
 get them in time, I shall send them with my next. You 
 are anxious about my cough, that is quite unnecessary; it is 
 true I had caught a little specimen on the Rhine, but the 
 second day after my arrival here I had got rid of it, there- 
 fore be quite easy, and rest assured that I have too great a 
 fear of falling ill not to be very careful. Had you seen me 
 after my journey, you would not have known me, so dread- 
 fully sunburnt was I, I looked like a peony, and have not 
 yet recovered my fine complexion, for the heat here is terrible ; 
 since my arrival it has only rained once, and in this sandy 
 desert it ought to rain every other day to be bearable ; it is 
 impossible to go out in the daytime, and nobody does so, 
 one has to wait for the evening, and even then it is very 
 warm. I was very glad to hear that you went to Bonn, as 
 I hear from Louis (FlashofF) that there is much worth 
 seeing there, so I hope you enjoyed yourselves. I laughed to 
 read how you had gone astray from Miihlheim : poor Stolle, 
 [the driver], how many donnerwetters he must have heard! 
 I am still quite content with my lodgings and also with the 
 food ; the latter is really remarkable, as in general in this 
 country ; except the peas, which are far from being as good 
 as at home, I knew none of the vegetables, and some are 
 very curious, but I do not appreciate them ; for instance, 
 green turnip-tops ; but I eat well, never fear ; if shyness 
 were my greatest fault I should be a very good fellow. I 
 will describe my sitting-room a bit : first, it has four fine 
 yellow and green-papered walls ; second, three windows with 
 beautiful long curtains ; third, against one of the walls 
 stands a green, yellow, and black sofa, but I am afraid it is 
 stuffed with wood ; before it a small ugly square table ; to 
 the left a large stove, to the right a big bureau with many 
 drawers, in which I have put all my chattels, except my coats 
 and cape, which hang in a wardrobe in my bedroom ; between 
 two of the windows hangs a looking-glass, and under it there 
 is a small table ; four chairs, very bad ones, covered like the
 
 1SS LETTERS 
 
 sofa, stand about the room, and opposite the sofa, my piano ; 
 through Rinck's mediation I have been able to hire it from 
 Klosz, the instrument maker, but it is a very bad one ; in 
 the upper octaves the tone is atrocious, and in the bass I 
 Bhould say it was hellish ; worst of all it does not keep in 
 tune, and all the same costs me one Prussian thaler a month ; 
 from what I hear (from musicians as well) the piano-maker 
 ( Yierheller) of this town lends very good instruments on the 
 same terms ; if this be true I shall give up the one I have 
 after one month ; how Rinck got hold of this Klosz, who is a 
 very insignificant maker, I really do not know, but the man 
 is poor, has many children, and Rinck has a very good heart. 
 That is all very well, but that I should lose all taste for the 
 piano out of good-nature would be asking too much. The 
 Hofrathin is a most kind and worthy woman, who looks after 
 us all seven with almost motherly care ; morning after morn- 
 ing she herself brings me a large plate of beautiful cherries 
 (the sight of her might almost take away one's appetite, she 
 is such an ugly old donner wetter). I take my coffee with 
 sugar in my own room, but dear Schivarzbrod, how I miss 
 thee ! instead of that I eat two big rolls of white bread, 
 which are good also. Dinner takes place punctually at half- 
 past twelve, we are generally nine at table, and the saying 
 that in a large company one can eat more than in a small 
 one is confirmed in my case ; supper is punctually at half- 
 past eight, and after it I generally walk up and down in the 
 nice garden behind the house ; at ten o'clock I go to bed, 
 and get up precisely at six the next morning, as sometimes I 
 have my lesson with Rinck at seven, sometimes at eight 
 o'clock, which I like very much, as it gives me the whole 
 day without a break. Now we come to an important matter, 
 the teaching of Rinck ; you want to know my opinion of it ; 
 as a whole I cannot yet express an opinion, but can tell you 
 that, so far, he pleases me very much; I will explain his 
 method from the beginning, and then you, dear father, can 
 judge of it yourself. At the beginning of the first lesson he 
 asked if I had studied any other theoretical works besides
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 189 
 
 Weber's. I told him I had studied no other, but had several 
 times read through Eeicha's ' Theory ' ; this he did not 
 know. Then he began (as you had predicted) by writing 
 the first lines of the Chorale, ' Kommt, lasst euch den 
 Herren lehren,' to which I had to put six, six, I say, different 
 basses, and also six different harmonies, five were simple, 
 and one a florid bass. Two I finished during the lesson, 
 and he was very pleased ; of faults, he only found one or 
 two, but he lays a mighty stress upon the flowing movement 
 of all the parts, so here and there he had to make some 
 changes ; he made everything so clear to me that those who 
 say Rinck is hard to understand must be wooden-headed ; he 
 repeats everything several times, and then always asks if 
 one has understood what he meant. He said he set great 
 value upon these exercises (of simple counterpoint), and 
 said it would be very good for me to work upon five or six 
 chorales in this way. After having worked three, viz. 
 ' Kommt, lasst euch den Herren lehren,' ' Nun danket alle 
 Gott,' and ' Jesus, meine Freude,' in six different four-part 
 settings (which was sometimes a head-splitting business ; try 
 it for once and put to the notes — d, f, e, c, d — six different 
 basses) he said I had the four-part harmony so well at com- 
 mand that we need no longer devote our time to it. We 
 had given four lessons to it, viz. one week. Then he gave 
 me four-part modulations, in four-bar phrases, to be done, 
 like the chorales in the strictest style, from C major by 
 progressive fifths to C sharp major, therefore from C to G, 
 G to D, D to A, and so on, and then from C sharp major 
 back to major ; then from F major in the same way to 
 G flat major, viz. from F to B, B to E flat major, and so on, 
 and back again ; then through all the minor keys, on the 
 understanding that all must be different from each other. 
 That was also a difficult task, it was as if I had to make 
 thirty-two different modulations from C major to G major, or 
 from A minor to E minor (by ascending fifths), and just as 
 many different ones from F major to B major, or from 
 D minor to G minor (by descending fifths) ; all hte same, I
 
 290 LETTERS 
 
 finished all those sixty-four modulations so quickly that they 
 only occupied two lessons (which means I did them at home, 
 and only showed them at the lessons). This exercise has 
 given me great facility in four-part writing as well as in the 
 modulations, for I had to modulate in every possible fashion 
 in order to be always different. He was very pleased, and 
 assured me he had not believed me to be so well advanced; 
 he found little to alter, and that of an unimportant nature. 
 Then we went on to imitations ; after giving me a very clear 
 and intelligible explanation of what was meant by the term 
 (which I knew already), he wrote a little example of five or 
 six bars in further elucidation, spoke, but only for the 
 moment, in passing, of ' stretto,' inversion and double counter- 
 point ; then, at the end of the lesson, set me, as a task to do 
 at home, to invent, even if only five or six bars, in which I 
 should introduce an imitation in the octave. I sat down at 
 home, took the following two bars 
 
 Allegro. 
 
 as a proposition, and made a composition of two and a half 
 pages, in which, at my own instigation, J employed everything 
 he had mentioned in passing, but of which I knew something 
 before — viz. the ' stretto,' an inversion, and the double counter- 
 point in the octave — he was immensely pleased, and whilst 
 looking through it said repeatedly ' Good, very good ! ' Then 
 he gave me a theme of three bars, which I had to work out 
 in the same way, but this time to, imitate at the fifth ; out of 
 these I managed to fabricate three pages, working them in 
 every possible way. With this he was even more content, 
 saying he considered this exercise the most profitable of all ; 
 I should, therefore, do altogether six two-part, which are the 
 most difficult, several three-part, and several four-part exer- 
 cises of this kind, and then we should go on at once to the
 
 TO HIS PAEENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 191 
 
 fugue, which he said was not very different from these imita- 
 tions. Five two-part exercises are at this moment finished ; 
 in the last one I showed him he found very little to change 
 and nothing to blame. Besides all this he gave me the words 
 for a Motet, which should contain first a chorus, then a 
 quartet, and a final chorus with a fugue, for soprano, alto, 
 tenor, and bass, without accompaniment. I have nearly 
 finished it, and am wondering how it will please him ; if you 
 like, I will send you some of my work ; consult Uncle Koch ! 
 as to how I shall manage about the postage. This is a true 
 account of my studies up to the present. What pleases me 
 best about Rinck is that he insists so much upon practical 
 exercises, and thinks very little of mere theory ; also, that he 
 does not cling too much to the old rules : thus, he only for- 
 bids consecutive fifths when two greater fifths follow each 
 other, one greater and one smaller fifth he willingly allows — 
 that is to say, in several-part writing, for in two-parts it 
 always sounds badly — his chief motto is : Lay no fetters upon 
 Art. He is also very obliging : he is lending me the 
 ' Cecilia,' the older volumes that I had not read, as well as the 
 new ones, also the ' Iris ' and ' Eutonia,' and of his music he 
 lends me all I wish for. One thing more, during a walk 
 Rinck asked me what my plans were after leaving here (N.B. — 
 he has now given me the fullest assurance that it will not be 
 necessary for me to remain six months with him). I told him 
 our intention was that I should go to Paris from here ; of this 
 he highly approved, and promised to give me letters of intro- 
 duction to Cherubini and Meyerbeer, whom he knows very 
 well, the latter especially, and he will strongly recommend 
 me to both ; you will rejoice at this as much as I ; a letter 
 from Rinck to these two would be of the greatest use to me, for 
 Cherubini is the Director of the Conservatoire, and you know 
 how great the fame of Meyerbeer is just now in Paris. He 
 will also give me letters to Ferdinand Hiller and other 
 celebrated composers, whose names I cannot at present 
 remember. 
 
 1 The postmaster of Hagen.
 
 192 LETTERS 
 
 The first letter I delivered at Darmstadt was the one 
 to Friiulein Mangold. The first reception was so dry and formal 
 that I went home quite out of humour, but yesterday 1 was 
 invited to a large party, where I enjoyed myself greatly. I 
 made the acquaintance of Kapellmeister Mangold, of Concert- 
 meister Mangold (an excellent violoncellist), and of two other 
 Mangolds, one of them a very good violinist, and who, accord- 
 ing to Rinck, must be quite a genius ; there were several other 
 gentlemen and many ladies. I had to play several times, and 
 the two Mangolds and I have agreed often to play duets and 
 trios together. The Kapellmeister, a very nice man, at once 
 made the proposal, if I wished to attend the rehearsals of 
 the orchestra, that I should go any morning at 10 o'clock to 
 the Court Theatre. I went this morning, and my joy was 
 quite indescribable. The orchestra consists of more than 
 sixty members ; they play like angels, I have never heard 
 anything like it, and I must describe it more closely another 
 time. To-day they played Beethoven's ' Eroica Symphony ' — 
 that is, indeed, a mighty composition — at times an icy cold 
 shiver ran through me, but more of this later. Gottfried Weber 
 received me very kindly (more of this later). Thank Mr. 
 Thieme especially for both his letters, he has given me two 
 very pleasant acquaintances by them, and please tell him I 
 shall soon keep my promise and write to him about both 
 persons. Now, my dear ones, farewell ; you, dear father, do 
 not work too hard, and take care of your health one and all, 
 that we may all happily meet again. I promise faithfully 
 that your loving admonitions shall not prove fruitless ; never, 
 I promise you, shall you grieve over my conduct. Greet 
 Aunt Altgelt and all my relations, and kiss the little ones a 
 thousand times. Your loving son 
 
 Carl Halle. 
 
 N.B. — Write very soon and closer together, and more.
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 193 
 
 • III 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Darmstadt : July 23, 1S36. 
 ... I feel quite convinced that I can leave here at the end of 
 three months, but Rinck has gone into the country for a week, 
 so I could not give him your letter, nor can I tell you any- 
 thing definite. During my last lesson, in the course of con- 
 versation, we spoke of Mangold, the violinist's, departure for 
 Vienna in the middle of September, when Rinck said that I 
 could go to Paris at the same time. Should he return to- 
 morrow, which I do not expect, I shall be able to give you 
 more positive news. I am very glad you asked him to give 
 me a letter of introduction to Kalkbrenner ; he does not know 
 him personally, but I think he will give me the letter. I 
 have ordered a metronome at Schott's for Mr. Elbers, and 
 received notice to-day that it had been sent off, but I did not 
 ask them for an introduction to Kalkbrenner as you suggested, 
 Rinck having promised to ask them for several letters for Paris 
 for me, and, if he does so, it will have more weight ; I shall also 
 ask hirn if he thinks Schott can help me to find a lodging in 
 Paris. If Rinck comes back to-morrow I shall be able to tell 
 you further of this also ; otherwise please write to me at once, 
 so that I may answer you soon ; we must not delay, time passes 
 so quickly that I can hardly believe I have been here six 
 weeks. I shall certainly not go to Geisenheim, partly be- 
 cause I grudge the expense, but chiefly because it would 
 interfere too much with my work. So, dear father, all your 
 questions are answered. I am only surprised that you do not 
 say a word as to how you liked Rinck's method of teaching, 
 which I so fully explained ; please do not forget to give me 
 your opinion of it in your next. 
 
 Now for your letter, dear mother : you begin by telling me 
 that I must always be merry and cheerful — I do my utmost to 
 obey the injunction, and I succeed pretty well. I have a good 
 many diversions here, especially through my intercom se with 
 

 
 ]94 LETTERS 
 
 theMangolds. Do not be afraid that I work too hard ; no, what 
 1 ti n ck gives me 1 1 1 do I can easily get through without too much 
 effort . 1 take a walk every clay, generally towards evening. I 
 
 B letter piano, and although I cannot call it good, it is a 
 hundred per cent, better than the first old rattletrap, but I 
 have t - pay 15 kreutzera a month more for it. The great 
 
 ceased so suddenly that it is almost cool now, and one 
 • careful not to catch cold unawares, so I did catch a 
 
 in my head, which only lasted a day. When I read 
 
 ■ Ko.'h's letter I feared that Dr. Elbers was dead, and 
 r confirmation of my fear has grieved me very much. 
 p« a God's sake, beware of that dreadful smallpox, and let me 
 know if there are more cases at Hagen. I cannot write to 
 Mr. Elbers to-day, I really have no time, and should not 
 like to send him a mere hasty scrawl, but in my next I shall 
 certainly enclose a few lines to him. Your greetings to my 
 
 hie Hofrathin, to Rinck, and to Louis Flashoff I have 
 already delivered, and am charged by all three heartily to 
 rel urn them. 
 
 . vour letter also is a,nswered, dear mother, and here 
 comes my own mustard. But first I am going to take a 
 little walk, in the Grand Ducal Park forsooth, and there, 
 a slice of cherry tart of a most delicate sort, shall 
 meditate on what to say to you. So here you can make a 
 I ause, and wait until I have eaten my cake and have re- 
 turned to my wood-stuffed sofa. ... I will begin by telling 
 j ou how I was received by Gottfried Weber. A few days 
 
 •• my arrival I went to his house at eleven o'clock in the 
 d orning, and was fortunate enough to find him ; when I had 
 
 a him Schott's letter, he kindly bade me sit down ; 
 whilst he was leading it I had a good look at him. Weber 
 is a tall, strong-looking man, with a round, full face, very 
 yellow and much scarred. He wore a large dressing-gown, 
 a voluminous cravat tied loosely round his neck, and a whi^3 
 night-cap, which he never removed, as he has a perfectly 
 bald head ("so, at least, it seemed to me). When he had 
 tter, he welcomed me once more, and asked if I
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 195 
 
 had begun my lessons with Rinck. I told him I had only 
 had one so far, and then I had to relate all that Rinck had 
 made me do, with which he was much satisfied, and praised 
 him for always proceeding to practise at once. He then 
 asked if I had already composed much. I said no ; not 
 much as yet. He told me that was not right; that one 
 ought to compose a great deal from the first, and could study 
 the so-called thorough-bass style at any time. At the words, 
 ' so-called thorough-bass style,' the fellow put on so sublime 
 a sneer, that his face must have looked just so whilst he was 
 writing his abuse of the thorough-bass style in his theory of 
 music. After a little further talk, he asked what I intended 
 to do after leaving Darmstadt, and when I told him of my 
 plan of going to Paris, he said he envied me. He invited 
 me to come and see him often, but so far I have not been 
 able to go again, and he also has been out of town. On 
 Monday or Tuesday I shall certainly go and try and sound 
 him whether he would give me a letter for Kalkbrenner, 
 should Rinck not do so. I go to the Mangolds nearly every 
 day. Carl Mangold, the violinist, and I have become inti- 
 mate friends, and as often as we are together, we play duets ; 
 sometimes, with the addition of an excellent violoncellist from 
 the Court apothecary, no ! I mean from the Court orchestra, 
 we play trios. I have thus got acquainted with many works 
 hitherto unknown to me ; for instance, I now know all 
 Beethoven's sonatas for piano and violin, nearly all his trios, 
 further, six trios by Reicha, and three trios by Prince 
 Ferdinand of Prussia, which are very fine, and many other 
 things besides. The 'cellist, Wilhelm Mangold, who has no 
 piano at his rooms, but lives just opposite to me, often comes 
 over with his bass tucked under his arm, and then we play 
 double sonatas by Beethoven, Onslow, &c, to our hearts' 
 content. 
 
 That under these conditions I feel quite in my element 
 you will easily believe. Next week we shall also play 
 quartets and quintets with pianoforte. On August 25 there 
 is to be a great concert in aid of the Beethoven monu- 
 
 o2
 
 196 LETTERS 
 
 ment, which will take place in the theatre, and probably last 
 two days. 
 
 The Grand Ducal Kapelle is now in full rehearsal; none 
 but Beethoven's compositions are to be performed. As often 
 as 1 can find time, I go in the morning to the theatre to hear 
 the rehearsal. I have now heard the 'Eroica' and the de- 
 licious Pastoral symphonies so often that I know them 
 almosl by heart ; still, I go again and again, as I can never 
 bear them enough. Now they are studying the great sym- 
 phony with chorus, which I am most curious to hear. Such 
 precision I had never heard in an orchestra, and had never 
 thought it possible that such fine nuances could be obtained 
 from such a numerous body ; even the smallest indications 
 were observed. They succeeded admirably in those cres- 
 cendos which suddenly pass into piano, which are found 
 almost exclusively in Beethoven's works. To be sure, Man- 
 gold, the conductor, takes enormous pains, one may say that 
 he is indefatigable ; for instance, at several rehearsals, before 
 taking the whole orchestra together, he takes the first violins 
 with only two of the other stringed instruments, and 
 thoroughly drums their part into the first violinists, then 
 he doe? the same with the second violins, with the violas, 
 ami with the 'cellos and five double-basses; thereby the 
 quartet «_ r ets so perfect that you do not hear a single false 
 note. The pizzicato is also something quite exquisite. In 
 Beethoven's ' Eroica ' symphony there is a great deal of 
 ato, even whole runs in unison, but I was never able to 
 ct one instrument arriving a little late; each time it 
 
 like a spark, and the effect was most extraordinary. 
 
 I had almost forgotten one thing, about which Carl 
 
 Mangold gives me no peace, and, which I have promised to 
 
 write to you about. He goes in the middle of September to 
 
 Vienna, and absolutely insists upon my going with him there 
 
 :id of to Paris. He says there are as many pianists in 
 
 Vienna as at Paris, and that one has more opportunities of 
 
 it works, oratorios especially, than in Paris (this 
 
 I doubt). Further, that it would be good for us both to
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 197 
 
 study composition again (he is going to take lessons from 
 Seyfried, especially in free style, although he has studied 
 harmony for years with his brother the Kapellmeister, who 
 had worked three years under Cherubini, and, either before 
 or after, with Spontini ; he is exceedingly industrious, for a 
 whole year composed a fugue every day, and has acquired 
 such facility that he can produce a beautiful fugue in a 
 quarter of an hour). However agreeable this would be, and 
 however much I should like to continue my intercourse with 
 one whose devotion, heart and soul, to music is greater than 
 I ever met with before, and, indeed, passes all belief, I still 
 prefer to go to Paris, and believe it would be more useful to 
 me. Therefore, dear father, I beg you, in your next letter, 
 to put forward some good reasons why you prefer that I 
 should go to Paris, which I can read to him, as I have 
 always told him the decision rested entirely with you, and 
 have never shown myself averse from the project ; for when 
 we are together I could wish to stay together always, and 
 still, I would sooner go to Paris. Moreover, the cholera is 
 at Vienna, certainly a good reason for you, dear mother, to 
 insist upon my not going there. 
 
 I intended to tell you a delightful anecdote that I have 
 remembered since Mayence, but I have too little room, so 
 must keep it to myself for the present. I notice that through 
 having to put off from one letter to another, things I wished 
 to tell you, I end by forgetting them, so if you remember 
 anything you wish to hear about, ask for it in your next 
 letter. . . . 
 
 IV 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Darmstadt: August 15, 1836. 
 Beloved Parents, — If I were to delay any longer writing 
 to you, you might end by becoming anxious again ; I there- 
 fore sit down to write, if not a long letter, at least whatever 
 of importance I may have to tell you.
 
 }9S LETTERS 
 
 I cannot understand how it is I have so little spare time ; 
 
 • through the work Rinck gives me so quickly, that if I 
 did nothing else, I believe I could be very idle; but I have 
 borrowed from the Free Library (which contains many good 
 
 a) Reicha's big book on Theory, also the 'French 
 »] Review,' by Professor Fetis, which is not only ex- 
 C (edingly instructive, but good exercise in French ; then the 
 ral of Beethoven's symphonies, for which I have 
 a ravenous appetite; then I am overwhelmed with music 
 which people send me to look through, and expect me to 
 play it to them afterwards ; added to this comes the duet, 
 
 , quartet, quintet, and septet playing, and the orchestra 
 rehearsals which I hardly ever miss ; I could add several other 
 items to the list, and it leaves me scarcely any time for letter- 
 writ ini: ; one has to take a walk occasionally to get a breath 
 of fresh air, which is rather scarce here ; in short, if you con- 
 Bider all this, yon will not take it ill if I do not write so often. 
 
 I have now copied for you, my dear father, my motet, and 
 the first movement of a trio for violin, viola, and violoncello, 
 which I have just finished, and that is why my letter is shorter 
 tJ an the previous ones, as I still have to work for Rinck. 
 
 I was exceedingly delighted, last Thursday week, at eight 
 o'clock in the morning, to see old Gunther suddenly enter my 
 room. I had not expected him in the least ; he spent about 
 an hour with me, gave me a great deal of news and your 
 
 or, dear father ; you might, however, with so excellent an 
 opportunity, have sent me more than one letter. At nine o'clock 
 we went off together to Rinck, who was hugely pleased to see 
 
 old friend and countryman. We spent a very pleasant 
 morning with Rinck, breakfasted with him, and were invited 
 by his wife to dinner next day. That dinner, and the after- 
 
 D that followed it, were the most enjoyable that I had had 
 for a lone; time ; better-hearted people than the whole Rinck 
 
 ily would certainly be hard to find; and the whole con- 
 al table was as merry as it was interesting; Rinck 
 llent vein, and told us a great deal about his 
 musiral opinions.
 
 TO HIS PAEENTS. DAKMSTADT, 1836 199 
 
 Your health was often toasted, and Rinck said at least 
 twenty times : ' Now all I wish is that old Mr. Halle were 
 with us.' After dinner I had to play something; Rinck had 
 not yet heard me. I first played the variations on ' Am 
 Rhein ! Am Rhein ! ' and I must saj I had not played so well 
 for a long time. That I had pleased Rinck, I guessed by the 
 way he shook hands with me when I had finished ; ' God pre- 
 serve you,' was all he said. When I had rested a little, I had 
 to play again, and this time I chose the first movement of 
 Kalkbrenner's concerto, which pleased him very much. 
 
 At four o'clock, Giinther, one of the Court orchestra named 
 Soistmann, an old friend of Giinther's who had come to see 
 him there, and I, left Rinck's, took a walk, and then went to 
 an inn and drank a couple of glasses of most excellent 
 Bavarian beer in the garden (since then, I have often been to 
 this inn, it is called the artists' tavern, as only musicians, 
 painters, and such-like rogues frequent it, only artistic topics 
 are handled there, and generally in a most interesting fashion) ; 
 there we stayed until ten o'clock, when friend Giinther started 
 in the post-chaise for Heidelberg. I was very sorry I could 
 not keep him here any longer, but he would not hear of it. 
 I very much doubt if he will carry out the journey he had 
 planned, as he already seemed in two minds about it. 
 
 Now for my Paris project. Rinck will write, as you will see 
 by his enclosed letter, without fail to Kalkbrenner, as soon as 
 he receives his address from Schott, to whom he wrote a fort- 
 night ago, but as yet has had no answer, Schott being very 
 dilatory in things outside his own business matters. "We 
 have both heard, and from different sources, that there may 
 be difficulties in being taken as a pupil, as Kalkbrenner 
 gives very few lessons, but we hardly believe that he will 
 refuse the first request of Rinck, whom he knows well by 
 reputation. Should he, however, refuse, I shall still go to 
 Paris, as Rinck advises, on the chance of taking lessons with 
 Hiller, Liszt, or Chopin ; Hiller seems to be, according to 
 what I have read in the ' Revue Musicale,' a tremendous per- 
 former, but simple and sincere. With him I could hardly
 
 LETTERS 
 
 tail, as he is an intimate friend of Rinck, and would not refuse 
 him. On the whole I am not in the least afraid ; there are so 
 many 6rst-rate pianists in Paris, that I shall certainly find 
 
 amongst the number who will give me lessons. But I 
 
 I »ubt in the least that Kalkbrenner will accept me. 
 
 I have also spoken to Rinck about a lodging, and I shall now 
 
 j on what I intend to do. I shall not write and ask 
 Seh. >t t to find one for me ; I have just told you that he has 
 kept Rinck waiting a fortnight for an answer, so you can 
 imagine how long he would be about this ; before he had 
 written to Paris and received an answer, and I had sent that 
 answt r to you, the six weeks I still have to remain here 
 would have vanished. Rinck gives me letters to Schlesinger, 
 the mnsic-seller, to the Abbe Mainzer (his pupil), and to 
 
 ral other persons (besides the musical potentates), and is 
 
 taring others from Schott. Louis Flashoff also gives me 
 two letters for friends of his from Essen who are in Paris ; one 
 of them I know personally since the time I was at Essen. . . . 
 
 By this post you will receive Rinck's latest work, which 
 he sends you as a little remembrance. He said it was only a 
 trifle, but he hoped you would accept it as a token of his 
 friendship. You will see that all the little preludes, especially 
 in the second volume, are charmingly worked out, and in the 
 whole collection there is a greal deal of original and flowing 
 ly. In such work, and in such work only, is Rinck 
 
 y great, otherwise he is rather one-sided ; he has a few 
 phrases and figures which he introduces into all his works, so 
 if one knows a few of them and knows them well, one can 
 
 gnise a work of his at once. I still like his teaching, but 
 I see now that it could be a good deal better. If Rinck takes 
 a pupil from the very beginning, he must create a Babylonian 
 
 ision in Ids head, so wanting in method is his teaching; 
 he jumps quite without order from one subject to another ; 
 
 :v he takes one thing, to-morrow another. I understand 
 
 him perfectly, because none of the subjects were quite un- 
 
 me, and I rather like this habit of his, as it has 
 
 me do a little of everything during these three months,
 
 TO II IS PAEENTS. DARMSTADT, 1836 201 
 
 and will enable me to work by myself in Paris ; but had I 
 known nothing but what Rinck has taught me, I should have 
 fared ill. 
 
 This may appear to you a contradiction of what I said in 
 my second letter, but it really is not so, for, as far as I am 
 concerned, I do like his method. The motet and trio I 
 send you have Rinck's approval ; in the trio he has not altered 
 a single note, and I have written an Adagio to the same, as 
 well as a motet for four male voices, but it will be impossible 
 for me to copy either of them for you whilst I am at 
 Darmstadt. 
 
 I beg you to show both things to our dear friend Atteau 
 (to whom I send greetings, and a request that he will write 
 to me), and then both of you criticise severely, and let me 
 know what you disapprove of and what you like. You might 
 have the trio written out so that you can try it over, but then 
 I beg you to play it very softly and pay attention to every 
 little sign, or else the effect is lost (the two half-notes in the 
 seventh and eleventh bars must be played on one string and 
 nicely drawn together). As you have now got a metronome, 
 I shall just hunt about and see if I can find one here, to be 
 able to indicate the time to you. In the middle movement 
 in D of the trio you may relax the time a little, and this 
 movement must be very well executed, and the crescendo on 
 the first six notes well brought out. In the motet, the Adagio 
 should be well sustained and sung with feeling. Kinck told 
 me that the ' Holy, Holy,' in the third and fifth bars for 
 tenor and bass might have been omitted ; I have left them in 
 to have your opinion. Now farewell, dear parents, I embrace 
 you, and you will kiss the little ones for me. Greet all my 
 relations and friends, and excuse me to those to whom I 
 ought to have written. Write soon, but at greater length 
 than the last time, to your loving son, 
 
 Carl Halle. 
 
 N.B. — Between September 18 and 25 I shall start for 
 Paris.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 TO HIS TARENTS 
 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Darmstadt: September 8, 1836. 
 
 My dearest Parents, — In a few words I shall just tell you 
 ; still quite well, have safely received your letters, 
 thank you heartily for the same, that I shall do all you 
 mraend, that I am studying hard, practising harder (for 
 r3 reasons), moreover enjoying myself amazingly, 
 ■ daring the past two months made a number of pleasant 
 interesting acquaintances, am received in the best society, 
 am much feted, and lastly that I am sorry and glad to be 
 going away from here again. ' These are the points I propose 
 ■ur consideration during this sacred hour, but first let 
 etc.' I began by telling you that I was in good 
 health, that is incontrovertible, so I need dwell no longer 
 upon thai point, but go on to the next. Your letters are all 
 [y to hand. I found them at midnight on the 28th of 
 nth, on my return home after a brilliant tea and 
 supper party. 1 opened them at once, but delayed reading 
 i until the next morning, my mind, head, and inside 
 1 too replete with the varied pleasures of the even- 
 Bernard's letter pleased me best; I was so glad to see 
 advance he had made in writing; his style is very 
 That I thank Aunt Schulz most heartily for her 
 hnmoroue letter is self-understood; that I do not answer it is 
 - imL-rstood, but as soon as I get to Paris I shall try 
 to make up for all deficiencies ; there I shall probably have 
 much more time at my disposal than I have here, as I shall 
 • likely only take one piano lesson a week; first, because 
 lhink J shall need more than one; and secondly, 
 ■■y are Bure to be barbarously dear. Rinck told me 
 guitar-player from here, and only a middling 
 jona in Paris, and got six francs an hour, which 
 1 thaler L8 g. If that be true — if a middling lesson 
 -I aster cost so dear, what may not a pianoforte
 
 TO HIS PAKENT& DARMSTADT, 1836 203 
 
 potentate charge ? I shall therefore — but halt, I see I have 
 got off the road, and must make a big leap to get back to 
 my forsaken Aunt Schxilz. So, dear little aunt, or rather 
 long aunt, should you perchance put your nose into this 
 letter, do not be angry with me, do not be scandalised at my 
 ill-breeding. Cornelius Fluss (ex-Doctor of Philosophy at 
 Haspe l ) I also sincerely thank for his second letter. This 
 time I was satisfied with the length of it, but even at the 
 risk of being called an ass, I cannot answer him now. I 
 shall do so from Paris, and describe all its wonders, which I 
 hope will satisfy him. ... I am studying hard, and for the 
 past few weeks have worked at nothing but fugues, at first 
 three-part, and now four-part fugues, and shall do nothing else 
 whilst I am here. Rinck's teaching pleases me less and less, 
 but Rinck himself I like better and better. I practise harder 
 and harder, and have bought some new music — for instance, 
 Kalkbrenner's Effusio Musica, undisputably his best work, and 
 Chopin's Variations on ' La ci darem ' from ' Don Giovanni.' 
 This is so dreadfully difficult, that I have to study it bar by bar, 
 but I think that when I have overcome the difficulties (which 
 will probably take a long time) I shall find it to be one of 
 the most delightful works I know. These variations are far 
 from being considered among his most difficult works, from 
 which God preserve us ! 
 
 My life here is exceedingly pleasant ; it is quite a new 
 existence for me. The most delightful hours are those I 
 spend in the house of Mr. von Ploennies (medizinalrath). 
 One meets the whole artist-world of Darmstadt there: 
 painters, musicians, poets — all artists are welcome. I have 
 made many interesting acquaintances there, first among them 
 Ed. Duller the writer, who lives here; also a Doctor of 
 Philosophy named Kringel, quite a young man, whom I shall 
 meet again this winter in Paris. I was introduced by 
 Kapellmeister Mangold, and since then have been invited 
 several times a week to grand tea and other parties. A 
 striking elegance reigns in the house, which is a little 
 1 Small village near Hagen.
 
 20-4 LETTERS 
 
 embarrassing at first, but one's shyness is soon dissipated by 
 the cheerful and easy tone which one hardly expects to find 
 allied with such magnificence. The central point towards 
 which all converges is certainly Mrs. von Ploennies. She is 
 a distinguished poetess, and moreover a very handsome and 
 amiable lady, who enlivens the whole conversation. At 
 the entertainment is most varied ; either Duller 
 or Mrs. von PlSennies reads one of their latest compositions, 
 then there is music. I have had to play each time, on a very 
 tine grand piano, only a little hard to play on ; duets and 
 quartets are sung, and so on; all this to a flowing accom- 
 paniment of wine and punch, whilst the palate is also most 
 delicately catered for. I always return home very well 
 
 3ed from one of these parties. You can therefore believe 
 that I am sorry to be going away so soon; but as regards 
 my studies I am glad, for I shall have time in Paris to chew 
 thf cud of all I have devoured so quickly in these three 
 months with Ilinck. Now my paper is coming to an end, 
 and. far consequence, I must soon end also; it is time that I 
 returned to my fugue ; but I must first, dear father, answer 
 your little observation on my trio. You say that in the first 
 movement one hears nothing of the key of D. That was a 
 gigantic oversight. If you will put on a pair of musical 
 spectacles, you will find that the whole second part of the 
 first movement is in D major. I am soon expecting your and 
 q's criticism on both my compositions. 
 
 Now, dearest parents, lebt redd wohl. . . . Your ever 
 loving Carl. 
 
 VI 
 
 TO IIERR ELBERS 
 {Translated from the German') 
 
 Darmstadt: September 23, 1836. 
 
 Highly honoured Herr Elbers, — I was very delighted and 
 
 surprised, on opening the last letter from my parents, to 
 
 ong the different letters they enclosed, one in 
 
 your honoured hand, though at the same time I felt abashed
 
 TO HERE ELBERS. DARMSTADT, 1836 205 
 
 that through my unpardonable neglect I had omitted to be 
 the first to write, in order to give you an account of all my 
 doings here ; so I read myself a severe lecture and made a 
 long face at myself for the rest of the day. Excuses I have 
 none. All the reasons I could give — such as too much work, 
 &C. — when seen in the right light, come to nothing. There- 
 fore, I can only humbly ask your pardon, which, out of the 
 great and undeserved affection you have always shown and 
 proved to me, I confidently hope that you will grant. 
 
 At present, before leaving Darmstadt, I can only thank 
 you for your kind letter and the good advice and welcome 
 news that it contained, as well, most especially, for the letters 
 of introduction you were good enough to send. To write you 
 a long letter just now would be impossible, for I am sur- 
 rounded by a most confused chaos (but not one out of Haydn's 
 ' Creation ') as I am busy packing, and though, now and then, 
 I feel pretty comfortable in such moments of great disorder, 
 the comfort is not lasting. I have also some farewell visits 
 to make (a tiresome business !), and my passport to get. So 
 you see that I have not much time at command. 
 
 I can only, therefore, tell you briefly that the three 
 months I have spent here have passed very happily. I have 
 made many and very pleasant acquaintances, especially with 
 several members of the most excellent Court Orchestra. One 
 of them, a first-rate violoncellist called Mangold, I have often 
 played duets with, thus carrying on what I had begun with you 
 at Hagen. The Court Orchestra, which contains from sixty 
 to seventy musicians, is rather given to be idle during the 
 summer months, but, luckily for me, since my arrival there 
 have been rehearsals every morning from 10 to 1 o'clock 
 for two concerts in aid of the Beethoven monument, which 
 have just lately taken place. I have there heard Beethoven's 
 masterpieces, his symphonies, the second act of ' Fidelio,' 
 and his fantasia for pianoforte, orchestra, solos, and chorus, 
 given in the highest perfection. You will believe that 
 it was in the highest perfection when I tell yon that the 
 Kapelle, certainly one of the best in Germany, has, for a
 
 LETTERS 
 . of a year, Btudied those works regularly three hours 
 
 v clearly see that Beethoven's works are not, as it is 
 
 ; ire d, only capable of being appreciated by con- 
 
 ..:. when thus interpreted, even the musically 
 
 uneducated who haw minds in the least susceptible, must be 
 
 impressed by them as by every work of the highest art. 
 
 [ sh >uld be glad to speak with you more minutely about 
 
 performances, bnt I feel my incapacity to describe these 
 
 sublime works of art with my pen, or to give the faintest idea 
 
 impression that they made upon me. Therefore I shall 
 
 remain Bilent, and reserve all I could possibly say for future 
 
 verbal intercourse with you. 
 
 As to Kinck's method of teaching, I shall write to you 
 when I am quietly settled in Paris. For himself person- 
 alis-, my worthy and never-to-be-forgotten master and friend, 
 :ly to be described. If you imagine the greatest 
 Inesa of hearl shining through every feature and every 
 combined with the greatest candour and simplicity of 
 manner, and therewith, even in old age, an undimmed and 
 of his art. you have his perfect picture. Certainly, 
 •a or n.-ver was a master more beloved by all his pupils. 
 I have to thank him specially for introducing me to the artist 
 world of l'aris, through letters to Meyerbeer, Mainzer, Hiller, 
 singer, and others. I now stand at the point for which 
 1 have been longing, when I shall come into contact with 
 brated members of the world of art. I am going to 
 with the highest expectations. What may happen to 
 :;<-re, how I shall be received, by whom I shall be taught, 
 1 shall in due course fully describe to you. Now my trunk 
 ••. and h-aves me only time to beg you to recall me to 
 imbrance of your honoured wife, and to present my 
 humble respects to her. Farewell, dear Mr. Elbers, and 
 when ii'-.xt you have an hour of leisure, then pray give me 
 asure of another letter from your hand. Some- 
 member in the far distance your devoted and obliged 
 
 Carl Halle.
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. DARMSTADT, 183G 207 
 
 VII . 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Darmstadt : September 23, L836. 
 Beloved Parents, — To fulfil my promise of writing again 
 before leaving Darmstadt, I sit down in the greatest haste to 
 give you tidings of my perfect health and that I start to- 
 morrow morning at G o'clock. I have barely five minutes to 
 do it in, so do not take it amiss if these lines are very short. 
 I am invited to dinner for the last time at the Mangolds (I 
 dined with Rinck yesterday and enjoyed myself to my heart's 
 content), and this afternoon I have several tiresome farewell 
 calls to pay. With Louis' help I have luckily got my port- 
 manteau packed. I have nothing contraband, my passport is 
 in order, so I shall pass the frontier without difficulty. I 
 have received the eighty R. thalers, which 1 shall change at 
 Frankfort for NapoUons d'or. I return you my most hearty 
 thanks for all the letters you have sent me. They will 
 certainly be of great use to me. Everything that you have 
 advised in your last letters I have either already accomplished 
 or shall fulfil, therefore it is unnecessary to mention each 
 separately. Now I can write no more ; all further news from 
 Paris. Only one thing : Do not be in the least anxious if 
 my next letter is a little slow in arriving. I cannot write 
 before I am settled in Paris, and the journey takes more than 
 eight days, so my writing will be perforce delayed. But I 
 stipulate that you answer my first Paris letter, at the latest, 
 eight days after receiving it, else I shall think it lost and 
 write to you again, and that would be a double postage. As 
 to the address, I shall do as Uncle Koch advises. And now 
 farewell, dear parents ; wish me a happy journey, greet my 
 uncle and aunts, kiss the little ones many thousand times, 
 and continue to love your loving son, CARL. 
 
 N.B. — Ilinck intends to write to you again within the next 
 eight days, but do not build upon it; he says himself that he 
 would sooner compose a long fugue than a short letter. Adieu !
 
 LETTERS 
 
 VIII 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Taris : October, 1836. 
 
 My dearest Parents,— At last I Lave arrived in good 
 
 health and Bafety in this huge Paris! am already established 
 
 in a lodging, have hired a piano, and in short am quite 
 
 All 1 shall tell you of my journey is, that I rested a 
 
 and a night at Metz, and just as long at Chalons, that I 
 
 ;uii none the worse, but rather fatigued and stiff, as one can- 
 
 help being after such a journey. This must be my whole 
 
 iption of it, as I have more important things to tell 
 
 and especially to you, dear father— viz. about money 
 
 matters. I shall explain everything fully, and then beg you 
 
 to enter into it as fully in your answer. 
 
 The night before I left Darmstadt Einck received an 
 answer from Schlesinger, of Paris, which was very unsatis- 
 factory on the whole ; he said nothing at all about Kalk- 
 ner, and as to Chopin and Liszt, that they took pupils, 
 but were both very much occupied. At the end of the letter 
 he said : ' Living here is rather costly, but if a young man is 
 economical he can live well for 200 frs. a month.' You can 
 easily understand that this gave me a great shock, but as I 
 i at the same time that Schlesinger lived in great style 
 in Paris (which is a fact), and perhaps judged of others by 
 himself, I took comfort. Now that I am here, I see that it 
 i> not the living that is so dear, but, what with lessons, hire 
 &C., that it will not be possible for me to manage 
 Oil less than 200 frs. a month. This will give you as little 
 • gives me; but above all, do not think that I 
 [[ lightly — far from it. All my good-humour has 
 > to the deuce. I will explain more clearly how it is that 
 
 1 i il bo much. Yon know that, unfortunately, I am not 
 
 • and therefore require good and wholesome food. 
 
 . I hear from all sides that it would be very cheap to dine 
 
 . but that I must not be surprised if I am some-
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. r.\RIS, 183G 209 
 
 times ill in consequence, as they do not cook fresh food every- 
 day, but often warm up what is left, even when it is half-spoilt. 
 
 To get food and lodging in a private house is impossible li<n\ 
 as I am told, so I have taken a room in this hotel, the land- 
 lady being a German, and dine at the table d'hote, which is 
 very good without being brilliant — rather like home cooking, 
 my board and lodging coming to ]00 i'rs. a month. This, 
 according to Tilemann and Rumpe, is very cheap for Paris (in 
 Prussian money it is 20 thalers 20 gr.). Now, I have no 
 wood for the winter, which seems to be frightfully dear, and 
 here neither coal nor turf is used. Then there is the washing. 
 What these two last may cost I do not yet know. Piano 
 hire is exceedingly expensive. As I am here for the purpose 
 of studying the piano, I had to get, if not a good one, at 
 least not a very bad one. I have found a tolerable instru- 
 ment for 20 frs. a month ; I could get none cheaper, even 
 the worst were 15 frs. a month. Here we have come to 
 120 frs. Now for the lessons. How much they will cost I 
 do not yet know. Kalkbrenner comes back at the end of 
 this week, and I shall go to him at once. It is still doubtful, 
 however, whether he will give me lessons. It seems he is 
 enormously rich, and troubles himself very little with teach- 
 ing ; but I still have hope. Chopin and Liszt charge 20 frs. 
 a lesson; Kalkbrenner, as I have heard, only 10 to 12 frs. ; 
 but I do not know if he makes an exception in favour of 
 those who are studying professionally. Should he take 10 frs., 
 if I go to him twice a week, as you desired, it will make 
 80 frs. a month, which, added to the 120, comes to a total of 
 200 frs. That leaves me not a penny of pocket money to 
 go to the theatre and hear the great operas. This calculation 
 certainly tends to destroy one's courage. There remains one 
 hope for me — that of giving lessons. Here in Paris, the 
 most second-rate lessons are paid 5 frs. an hour, and good 
 teachers easily get from 8 to 12 frs. a lesson. Should I 
 succeed in finding a few pupils, I could manage very well 
 without greater sacrifices. Mainzer told me that four woks 
 ago he had been asked for a teacher for two pupils, who would 
 
 P
 
 210 LETTERS 
 
 have paid 1 2 frs. Had I been here I could have got them. 
 At the Bame time he told me they were rare, as the competi- 
 tion was bo very keen. As soon as he hears of any more he 
 will let me know. Perhaps I shall succeed when I am a little 
 better known here, for which I think I shall not have long 
 
 rait, as an ancle of Tilemann's and a Dr. Diiringe fa 
 
 an), to whom I had letters from Darmstadt, have 
 
 promised to introduce me to several families. Most of all 
 
 Kalkbrenner could help me to get known. Supposing I 
 
 should succeed, in a month or two, to give one lesson a day 
 
 . at 6 (Vs.. it would make 150 frs. a month; that would 
 already be a great help. We may draw the following con- 
 clusions from these calculations : if, with the help of God and 
 Kalkbrenner's aid, I should succeed in becoming a good 
 pianist, I cannot fail, in this huge and wealthy Paris, to get 
 
 ■ pupils and at a higher price. If, later on, I should get 
 four pupils a day at 10 frs. each (which is very little in com- 
 parison with the first-rate pianists, and even with Mainzer, 
 who can be nothing very extraordinary, as he has no name 
 whatever in other countries, and who all charge 20 frs.), we 
 
 a monthly income of 1,040 frs. ; if I spend 250 frs. there 
 remains a clear balance of nearly 800 frs., or about 9,600 a 
 year. This result is grand, but not at all impossible. You can 
 
 date what a man like Chopin must earn who gives eight 
 or nine lessons a day at 20 frs. In three months' time I 
 shall Barely find out if my calculations are correct or not. 
 Should they be so, then, dear father, I have the project, which 
 von will certainly approve, of making Paris my headquarters 
 for a length of time; for tell me any town in Germany, or 
 anywhere else, where it would be possible to earn so much, 
 ami at the same time have such opportunities of perfecting 
 
 •If in musical, and almost all other respects, as in Paris. 
 Of coarse, h-t us not forget that all this depends upon an if, 
 but an if that may very easily come true. Now I shall leave 
 this chapter, only begging you very earnestly to write to me 
 fully on the subject. 
 
 As 1 have still room, I will chat a little with you,
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. PARIS, 1836 211 
 
 my unspeakably beloved ones, but of what ? If I speak 
 of myself, I can only tell you that I have the inter] 
 longing for you and for my own country. Oh, how beau- 
 tiful, how celestially beautiful, to be at home and in the midst 
 of one's loved ones ! What is Paris, with all its luxury and 
 brilliancy, with its crowds of people in the dark- and narrow 
 streets where sun and fresh air hardly ever penetrate, with 
 its slow-flowing 1 , turbid Seine, compared with our lovely little 
 valley with its pleasant little town, its clear and merrily- 
 flowing river, its fresh air and brilliant sunshine, with its 
 flowering meadows and green hedges and bushes, where 
 nightingales and finches still sing their joyous song, long 
 since driven away from here by the bustling multitudes 
 whose only thought is gain ! Each time I recall all this to 
 mind I cannot keep back the tears. Could I but once walk 
 hand-in-hand with you, the little ones and the dogs playing 
 before us; through the garden, then by the fields to Alten 
 Hagen ; then back by the way of lovely Wiedey— only 
 
 once 
 
 I fear, I fear that I shall get home-sick; but I shad 
 struggle against it with all my might, and should it over- 
 come me, I shall turn my thoughts to the swift passing away 
 of time; four months already have I spent away from you, 
 and the rest will go by also. 
 
 I have worked myself into too soft a mood to go on 
 writing. Answer me within the next few days. You cannot 
 guess the longing with which I am expecting your nexf 
 letter ; and write much, describe all your doings, your daily 
 life, how the uncle and aunts are getting on, and, mind, vou 
 must not forget what Bernard and Anna are doing, if he troes 
 regularly to school, and how she passes her time ; in short, 
 everything; the merest trifles interest me now. 
 
 Farewell ; write soon and at great length. Greet all 
 relations and friends, embrace the two children, think ver\ 
 often of your loving Caul.
 
 2 1 2 LETTERS 
 
 IX 
 
 TO II IS PARENTS 
 (Tranilatedfrom the German) 
 
 Paris : October 18, 1836. 
 
 . t Parents,— I did not expect a letter from you so 
 
 ,1 my delight is therefore so much the greater; 
 
 I de Koch gave me a terrible fright by writing on 
 
 itside, 'This letter to be sent forward with the utmost 
 
 trli.' When I read this, I could not but think that it 
 
 ined the news of some misfortune, but happily it was 
 
 ad, on the contrary, I found that you were, God be 
 
 thanked and praised, all in good health (only you told me 
 
 nothing of Mino's doings; please do not forget in your next 
 
 lo speak of him). 
 
 1 must tell you of my own doings; that is easily 
 
 done. I practise nearly the whole day long, and hardly 
 
 anything but exercises, shakes, scales, and so on, and the rest 
 
 of the time, fur it is impossible to play without ceasing, I go 
 
 over, and put into order, the work I did with Rinck, or, if 
 
 ever it stops raining for a moment, I take a run through 
 
 Paris and visit its sights. So far I have taken no lessons, 
 
 but hope to do so in a few days, but not from Kalkbrenner. 
 
 I shall tell you the whole story. The day after Kalkbrenner' s 
 
 retain I went to see him at eleven o'clock ; he happened to 
 
 be at home, and I was shown into an ante-room, where there 
 
 were several people already assembled; when he had kept us 
 
 bing a considerable time, he appeared, wrapped in an 
 
 ample dressing-gown. After he had spoken for a short time 
 
 to the per cms Btanding nearest to him, he came towards 
 
 I tepped forward and was beginning to explain my 
 
 business, but as soon as he heard 1 intended to become a 
 
 inn ician, and had studied composition with Rinck, he asked 
 
 lit until he had dismissed the rest of the company. 
 
 I • i a1 this, as it would enable me to speak to him 
 
 undisturbed. It lasted a good long time, but finally he had 
 
 (1 them all.andl was able to make my request. When
 
 TO Ills PARENTS. PARIS, L836 213 
 
 I had done speaking, he said he regretted very much that it 
 was at present, impossible for him to comply with my wish ; 
 he had been seriously ill, had only just returned from the 
 Baths, and was still so weak thai his doctor had strictly 
 forbidden him to talk much, a thing quite unavoidable in 
 giving lessons — in fact . he did look very ill. He had his 
 class at the Conservatoire, which he could not give up, 
 that tired him so, that he had been obliged to give up all 
 other lessons. It was now my turn to express regret. Then 
 he said he would like to hear me play, to see how far I had 
 got on, and that he could perhaps recommend a teacher to 
 me. He took me into his sitting-room, where there was a 
 most beautiful grand piano, and 1 played him his own 
 Effusio Musica. He made several remarks about tl 
 and said several times, ' very good,' ' firsl rate,' until I got 
 to a part where both hands had scales in octaves during 
 several pages; when I had finished them he stopped me, 
 and asked why I played the octaves with my arms and not 
 from my wrists? 'You are quite out of breath,' he said 
 (which was the case) ; he could play scales in octaves for an 
 hour without the least fatigue ; and why had God given us 
 wrists? He was sure, if the Almighty had ever played the 
 piano, He would play from the wrist! He made several 
 other remaiks; he said I held my fingers rather too high, 
 I must hold them closer to the keys, especially in legato 
 passages, to make them more finished, and obtain altogether 
 a rounder and more ringing tone ; and as to the expression, 
 he gave me a good deal of advice, all very good, and worthy 
 to be followed. He then played part of the piece I had 
 played, to make it clear to me ; after this, he began another, 
 and altogether played for me more than half-an-hour. You 
 can imagine my delight; it was the first time I had ever 
 heard a celebrated musician, and this half-hour has been of 
 the greatest use to me. In Kalkbrenner's playing there 
 reigns a clearness, a distinctness, and neatness that are 
 astonishing ; in octave scales he has an immense facility and 
 precision, especially in the left hand ; then he has a special
 
 214 LETTERS 
 
 mode of handling the piano, particularly in melodious pas- 
 
 3j which makes a great impression, but which I cannot 
 
 ibe to you ; the reason of it lies merely in that he keeps 
 
 rs so closely over the keys. When he had finished, 
 
 | i be very industrious, to avoid the mistakes he 
 
 had pointed out. and that I would become a first-rate pianist; 
 
 at present 1 should go to Osborne, 1 his best pupil, and who 
 
 had quite his method of teaching (Mr. Elbers and I have 
 
 played something of Osborne's, and, as far as I recollect, we 
 
 liked it very much) ; I should tell him that Kalkbrenner had 
 
 ir.e to him and begged him to give me lessons; when I 
 
 had worked with him for some time then he, Kalkbrenner, 
 
 would give me some lessons with the. greatest pleasure. As 
 
 : as I had studied a piece with Osborne 1 should come 
 
 and play it to him. and if there was still anything wanting, 
 
 i, • would point it out to me. I must also come and see him 
 
 from time to time. That was kind, was it not? and I shall 
 
 e srtainly not fail to take him at his word. 
 
 Next day I went to Osborne (Tuesday, this day week) ; 
 
 he also was out of town, and only returned on Saturday. 
 
 On Sundays in Paris no one is ever to be found at home, 
 
 so I went on Monday, yesterday, and luckily found him 
 
 line. He received me very amiably, and when I 
 
 had told him my tale, he said I put him in a great 
 
 perplexity; that he gave lessons from early morning till 
 
 night, and still he was most unwilling to refuse me. 
 
 After a little more conversation he asked me to play 
 
 Bomething; I did so, and he praised and blamed exactly 
 
 in the same way as Kalkbrenner had done; then he asked 
 
 my address, and said he would write to me in a few days to 
 
 whether he had found it possible to arrange to give me 
 
 MB, and in this letter he would give me all particulars; 
 
 lid there be any evening parties with music, he would 
 
 se me with pleasure. I am therefore awaiting this 
 
 r; should he delay too long, which I do not expect, I 
 
 1 George Alexander Osborne (180U-1893), the well-known Irish pianist, 
 and composer.
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. PARIS, 1830 210 
 
 shall go to some one else. I have been here more than a 
 fortnight, and have only been able to study by myself; but 
 soon after my arrival, Mr. Probst of Leipzig, who lives here, 
 and whose acquaintance I made through .Mr. Tilemann's 
 uncle, told me that if 1 had not learnt patience before, I 
 should learn it here, and, in truth, it seems so. Neither 
 Meyerbeer nor Hiller are in Paris, so I cannot deliver my 
 letters to them. As to hearing many good works, it i.s not 
 as we expected; at all the theatres there are only small 
 operettas and ballets, even at the Grand Opera, where all the 
 best and newest operas are generally given. A new ballet, La 
 Fille du Danube, will probably have a hundred successive 
 performances, so much does it please the Parisians ; so there 
 is but a poor prospect of hearing good music. All these things 
 are not calculated to banish my bad humour ; on the contrary. 
 my longing for you and for my beautiful, peaceful birthplace 
 grows ever stronger. Christmas and New Year ! Gott .' 
 
 The only thing I am looking forward to is that Mainzer 
 has promised to procure me the opportunity of often hearing 
 Chopin and Liszt. I hope he will keep his word, for it would 
 be of the greatest use to me. Oabl. 
 
 X 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Paris : November, 1836. 
 Dearest Parents, — Your dear letters of October 23 only 
 reached me, through Mr. Rumpe, on November 2. They 
 have, therefore, been pretty long on the way, so I shall make 
 no delay in answering them for fear you should get anxious 
 again about me, your over-great love for your long-legged 
 rascal making you so quick to take alarm. In this letter I 
 have made up my mind not to write exclusively, as in the 
 last two, about my studies, which would end by boring you, 
 but of everything that comes across my mind, in a medley of 
 wheat and tares, and you can disentangle it for yourselves
 
 216 LETTERS 
 
 (N.B.— If you think it worth the trouble). I have just 
 noticed that 1 have started with the master stroke of beginning 
 t i write on the wrong side of the page, but it does not matter. 
 1 shall hope to be able to close my letter all the same, and so 
 go on in confidence. All the same, I must tell you that, God 
 
 raised and thanked, I have begun with Osborne, and 
 have already had three lessons — one per week, which is amply 
 ni (ten francs each). But I shall give you no further 
 account of this, for where is the use of serving you with the 
 sauce when you cannot judge of the meat ? I know you trust 
 . and that I need not tell you continually that I am working 
 hard. One thing, however, I must report. My manner of 
 playing has to be entirely altered — not so much the expres- 
 
 as my right reverend Aunt Christina, with an air of 
 wisdom, opined; on the contrary, he paid me great compli- 
 ments on this point. But it seems I had an abominable tone. 
 You will, perhaps, not quite understand this, but as soon as I 
 L r et back to liagen I shall make it clear to you. I am making 
 great progress already on this point, and during my last 
 lesson he said several times : ' Je suis fort content de vous, 
 vona §tes tres-bon musicien.' (I have this moment received 
 an invitation from Kalle to dinner at six this evening.) 
 
 I doubt whether, London excepted, there is another town 
 in the world that can compare with Paris in any respect. 
 Louis Flashoff would say it is a ' Gegenstand ' — his favourite 
 expression for anything grand. It gives me a curious sensation 
 
 ben as I look from any height upon this immense agglo- 
 meration of stone. As far as the eye can reach, nothing but 
 
 sky and houses. One can never see the whole of Paris — 
 Borne part is always lost in the distance. Everything in 
 I 'aris is on a grand scale — manners and customs as well as 
 the town itself; N.B., the prices too. Such a quantity of 
 palaces, monuments, arches of triumph, one finds nowhere 
 'I o describe it all is impossible ; I should require much 
 more time and much more paper. The finest building in 
 I'aris, and perhaps in all Europe, is the new church of the 
 Mad< (July it hardly does for a church, nor was it
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. PARIS, 1836 2] i 
 
 originally meant for one. Napoleon, who began it, intended 
 it for a Temple of Fame. It is built in the Bame Gre 
 (I believe after a temple of Minerva or Apollo at Athens), and 
 so makes a curious impression in the tnidsl of the modern 
 houses and palaces thai surround it. in Paris one has the 
 besl opportunities of studying the differences between tin- 
 old Gothic and the Grecian styles, the first represented by the 
 venerable cathedra] of Notre Dame, and the second by this 
 Temple of the Madeleine. Both are subli terworks, 
 
 but what (in endless difference! The thrill one feels on 
 entering a Gothic church like Cologne Cathedral is not 
 experienced at the sight of this great temple, but a feeling of 
 admiration for the grand old Greeks and for the days of 
 antiquity passes through one. Under the high arches and 
 vaulted roof of a Gothic cathedral one feels a certain sense (I 
 at least do) of oppression, and breathes more freely wdien one 
 returns to the open air. In this Greek temple everything 
 is calculated to produce an agreeable and cheerful sensation ; 
 the whole building seems so light, even smart, if that 
 expression is nob too trivial. In short, it represents the ideal 
 of spirited beauty. So one could never picture a Gothic 
 cathedral in a fine open landscape, but one can think of such 
 a temple in the midst of the old Grecian land, with laurel 
 groves and myrtle woods. Then it makes an unpleasant 
 sensation to see the modish young bucks in their frock coats, 
 white cuffs, kid gloves and walking sticks, wandering among 
 the Corinthian columns and up the grand flight of steps. At 
 every moment one expects to see a tall, stately Grecian figure 
 step out and drive away these dandies, as Christ drove the 
 money-lenders out of the temple. 
 
 I have already seen a most remarkable spectacle here, 
 the like of which I shall never see again, viz. the erec- 
 tion of an Egyptian obelisk in the finest Place of all 
 Paris and on the very spot — sufficiently remarkable on 
 that account — where Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 
 were executed. The obelisk was a present from the 
 Pasha of Lgypt to the present king, Louis Philippe, and
 
 2 1 s LETTERS 
 
 was brought with immense trouble by ship to Paris. They 
 had to raise fche level of the Seine (how they did it I do not 
 
 know, and cannot imagine) in order to bring it to the town. 
 7 2 feet high, consists of a single block of granite, and 
 weighs over 500,000 pounds. Now, you can imagine the 
 difficulty of placing such a mass on a pedestal twenty-four feet 
 high. By means of a steam-engine it was brought from the 
 quay as far as a wall, built on purpose close to the pedestal; 
 then two hundred artillerymen, by means of ten windlasses 
 and a great scaffolding which I cannot attempt to describe, 
 raised it up. This raising lasted from ten o'clock in the 
 morning to lour in the afternoon, and all this time I stood, in 
 company with three hundred thousand curious spectators, on 
 the same spot, and certainly did not regret it. The obelisk is 
 still veiled, so I do not know how it looks, but the top is 
 s mien hat damaged, as the old-curiosity mongers paid a ducat 
 for each little particle they could get. 
 
 I could tell you a great deal more, but as the paper will 
 soon come to an end, I shall say a little about myself ; first 
 I must tell you that I go to the theatre very often, as I have 
 free entrance three times a week to the Grand Opera, by a 
 curious combination of circumstances which I must recount. 
 If an Austrian had not broken his leg at Chalons I should 
 not have a free admission to the Grand Opera to-day ; the 
 pi or devil lay at Chalons the day I stayed there, and as I 
 knew of no hotel in Paris, I asked him if he could recom- 
 mend one, and he told me of this one where I now am. At 
 the table d'hote here I made the acquaintance of a very nice 
 man, called Ellisen, a painter, to whom I already owe much, 
 and he introduced me to a family of the name of Kaselack, 
 who are well acquainted with all the most famous artists, 
 and have several tickets for every performance and always 
 
 one to me. Through these Kaselacks I have made the 
 aaintance of several other artists, for instance with the 
 >ra com poser Adam, and the first flutist in all Paris, 
 inx; in short it was a lucky thing for me that that 
 
 rian broke his leg at Chalons.
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. PARIS, 1836 210 
 
 TO Ills PARENTS 
 (Translated from t)in German) 
 
 Paris : November 28, 183d. 
 Dearest Parents, — You must be really angry with me, 
 now that I know I need pay no postage fee for ray letters, 
 for not having answered your last letter sooner, and I acknow- 
 ledge that you have certainly some cause for it ; but on my 
 side I have some excuse for my delay ; I would not write 
 before I could tell you how 1 had been received by Meyer- 
 beer, a thing you were very eager to know ; it is true I 
 cannot tell you yet (I will give you the reason directly), but 
 most probably before this letter is finished, which will be to- 
 morrow, I shall have seen him (with Parisians one can never 
 feel sure) and be able to tell positively if the famous com- 
 poser of the ' Huguenots ' has received me amiably or rudely. 
 Why I had not seen him sooner, as I think I have told you, 
 was because of his long absence from town ; he has been 
 back about a fortnight ; since then I have been three times 
 to his house, twice he was not at home, and the third time 
 there were so many people, to whom he was giving audience, 
 that I should have had to wait for more than half-an-hour, 
 and I had not the time to spare ; now I have been informed 
 that he will receive me to-morrow at nine o'clock in the 
 morning, and I hope then to make the acquaintance of this 
 famous and remarkable man; I have seen him several times; 
 he is of middle height, rather lean, and stoops slightly, he 
 need not wear a label to proclaim that he is a Jew ; that 
 any man can see, but also that behind his high and noble 
 brow many fine and glorious thoughts must dwell. Hiller, 
 for whom I also had a letter, is not in Paris ; he has been at 
 Frankfort since the end of September, and, as I hear, will 
 hardly be back before the summer. 
 
 Now I shall tell you how it befel with the Leipzig letters, 
 and, thank God, have only good tidings to give. All those to 
 whom I was recommended, received me with so much hearti-
 
 220 LETTERS 
 
 . not, as so often happens, with mere empty politeness, that 
 q saw the great value of an introduction from Uncle 
 Harki >rt. Especially Mr. Kalle and Mr. Thurneyssen were extra- 
 ordinarily amiable ; the first has invited me at least five or six 
 times to dinner, and every Sunday evening to tea, and both he 
 and his charming and beautiful young wife are always so kind 
 and friendly, that I am in high spirits the whole day previous 
 ;nu r there. 1 always meet a large company there, consist- 
 :' French, Germans, English and Americans, and spend 
 many a pleasant hour. Kalle has also told me, if ever I am 
 in any difficulty, to apply to him at once and he would advise 
 and help efficaciously. I have dined twice at the Thurneys- 
 and am invited to a soiree for every Friday evening. I 
 . myself very much at their house also, and have made 
 several pleasant acquaintances there, amongst them that of 
 M. Scherbius, who is going to introduce me the day after 
 to-morrow to Ferdinand Ries, who happens to be in Paris, at 
 which I am immensely delighted ; should he ask me to play 
 J shall choose his own dear ' Am Rhein, Am Ehein.' The 
 Thurneyssens must be very rich people ; although the Kalles 
 display great elegance, it is nothing to be compared to the 
 luxury of the others ; it is quite indescribable, but when I 
 come home I shall have wonderful things to tell you of it, as 
 well as of the tone and mode of Paris, that one has always 
 read bo much about. 
 
 Baron Eichthal also received me very well, and of him I 
 
 have the greatest hopes from a musical point of view ; he 
 
 invited me a week ago, in a very amiable note, to dine with 
 
 him on Wednesday (the day after to-morrow) and said he hoped 
 
 to introduce me then to his frieud Chojjinl So far I have 
 
 neither seen nor heard Chopin, as, all the soirees and con- 
 
 - at which such artists play are only beginning now or a 
 
 little later on. J have little fear but that once presented to 
 
 Chopin by Eichthal he will invite me to his own house, and 
 
 I shall hear him not only once but several times. 
 
 to be introduced to Liszt shortly, and Mr. Tile- 
 
 mann'a uncle is going to make me known to Herz. So, by
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. PARIS, 1836 221 
 
 degrees, I shall get to know these people ; things do not go 
 quickly in Paris; one requires a boundless patience; so too 
 with regard to the giving of lessons, which 1 thought would 
 be so easy before I came. Up to the present there seems no 
 prospect ; principally as I do not know enough French to be 
 able to teach. I hear from all sides that it is very easy to 
 make a large fortune in Paris, when one has bitten one's 
 way through, has made oneself known, and acquired a certain 
 fame in the town ; then every one rushes to you, and your 
 hours are measured in gold ; but it takes a pretty long time 
 before one gets so far. 
 
 All the same, I still think it would be best, after I have 
 quite completed my education, to return here for a consider- 
 able length of time ; where so many others have been so 
 fortunate, I, too, may perhaps succeed. I have now heard 
 Kalkbrenner several times, and have paid him another visit, 
 and shall go again one of these days, as I have studied twelve 
 grand Etudes of his with Osborne, which I want to play to 
 him. Last Sunday I heard him at a concert at the Hotel de 
 Ville ; he played twice, first the Rondo, 'Gage d'Amitie ' 
 (which Mrs. Hennecke made me a present of), and then 
 variations on a theme of Bellini's. I was very glad to hear 
 him play a piece I knew, and to be able to discover in how 
 much I am still wanting. He began the allegro of the 
 Rondo at a speed that made my hair stand on end ; he 
 carried it on at the same pace, which he even increased 
 towards the close, with such a bell-like clearness, and such 
 great expression, that I cannot understand how any one 
 could do it better; and still, Chopin and Liszt stand higher 
 than Kalkbrenner. When next I see him I shall remind 
 him of his promise to give me lessons, but should he not be 
 willing to do so yet, I shall not insist, as Osborne's teaching 
 pleases me very much, and Kalkbrenner's lessons will be 
 more useful to me later on, when I have studied more; on 
 no account shall I leave Paris without taking a few lessons 
 from him, so as to be able to call myself his pupil. 
 
 You write to me, dear father, that by the end of January
 
 222 LETTERS 
 
 T shall most likely, or certainly, have to return home ; I 
 know that my stay here costs a terrible amount of money, 
 and that it cannot go on long, so I shall say no word against 
 it, and shall rejoice to be with you again; but at the same 
 time 1 am convinced that the object of my coming here will 
 have been half accomplished if I go away so soon ; 
 1 should only have had altogether thirteen or fourteen 
 as, and have arrived at the point where lessons from 
 Kalkbrenner would be of the greatest use. I am making 
 great progress, and Osborne praises me very much ; he told 
 me that during the winter I should study a concerto with 
 him, and I believe that if I could thoroughly and perfectly 
 study a concerto with such a master, so as to be able to play 
 it anywhere, I should hardly need further lessons, but could 
 perfect myself on the model of the great artists whom I have 
 the opportunity of hearing; but, I believe, only then. 
 Eowever, if I must return home so soon I shall say no word 
 against it, but shall even rejoice. 
 
 November 29. 
 I had got so far yesterday when the dinner-bell called 
 me (at half past five). This morning at nine o'clock, 
 dressed in my best, I went to Meyerbeer ; at the door I met 
 a Berliner, Iludolfi (whom I only know by name), who had 
 also come to pay his respects. In the anteroom the servant 
 received us with a shrug of his shoulders, and said he did 
 not think we could be admitted, as Meyerbeer was composing, 
 and had sent away a lot of people already ; he went away 
 and shortly came back with a very polite message that his 
 master was so very busy that he could not possibly be 
 disturbed, but begged us not to take it amiss, and to come 
 without fail to-morrow morning at nine o'clock. This I shall 
 certainly not fail to do, as I am convinced that I shall be 
 well received, as was my friend Mangold, who also brought 
 lii in a letter from Rinck, and whose compositions he examined 
 and corrected, and to whom he also often sends tickets for 
 his operas. Most likely you do not know that Mangold is 
 in Paris. I luckily persuaded him to come, but as he could
 
 TO HIS PARENTS. PARIS, 1836 223 
 
 not leave Darmstadt with me, he followed a fortnight later; 
 we see each other very seldom, as he lives at half-an-hour's 
 distance from me. This is one of the disadvantages of Paris, 
 the difficulty of seeing even one's best friends on account of 
 the great distances ; it would have been impossible for us to 
 live together, the one playing the piano and the other the 
 violin; we should have disturbed each other and made a 
 veritable cat's concert of it. 
 
 You, dear mother, wish to be assured that I am not 
 freezing here ; I can do so. Firstly, in my room I have no 
 open fire, but a stove, a remarkable one made of porcelwne, 
 but which warms the room very well ; there is a fireplace, 
 but as the landlord offered me a stove I accepted without 
 hesitation ; an open fire looks very nice and cosy, but one 
 gets roasted on one side and frozen on the other. Second, 
 although the weather is very unpleasant, always raining and 
 windy, it has been so warm that, although we are close upon 
 December 1, I need no fire, but at the beginning of the 
 month it was so cold that I could not do without one; I 
 only wish it would remain warm, for wood costs a terrible 
 deal of money here, and coal is unknown ; two logs of wood 
 cost almost a franc. 
 
 So you have had a concert at Hagen ; as those concerts 
 have given me so much pleasure from my earliest childhood, 
 I take the greatest interest in them still, and you, dear 
 mother, must positively give me all the details in your next 
 letter ; tell me what was given, and who played, and who 
 sang ; please do not forget. 
 
 Also the theatrical news, for I know your weakness, and 
 that you will seldom have missed a performance. Now, I 
 shalflook through your last letter to see if there is anything 
 I have forgotten to answer, so just wait a little. I have 
 found nothing, and as you will be content with the length of 
 this epistle, I shall promptly bring it to a close, first asking 
 you to thank Mr. Elbers, with my best greetings, for his 
 letter. Mr. Selttinghaus of Altena is going back soon ; if 
 not too soon I shall charge him with several letters, not
 
 224 LETTERS 
 
 only for Mr. Elbers, but for other persons to whom I owe 
 them. Now comes the accustomed usual ending. Dear 
 nts, farewell, write soon, greetings to all friends and 
 relations. I embrace you, the dear children, and the dogs a 
 thousand times; love me still, and think right often of your 
 loving Carl. 
 
 XII 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Paris : December 2, 1836. 
 
 Beloved Parents, — Selttinghaus's departure has taken me 
 BO much by surprise that it is quite impossible for me to give 
 him several letters to take with him to Hagen. I went to 
 Rumpe's yesterday, the 1st of the month, to get some money, 
 and then learnt that Selttinghaus was leaving to-day at mid- 
 day. As I have a lesson this afternoon and must practise for 
 it, I have barely time for a short supplement to my letter of 
 two days ago. 
 
 The morning after having written to you I went again 
 to Meyerbeer, and was at once admitted. As I expected, 
 Meyerbeer was extremely kind and amiable. He kept me 
 more than half an hour, inquired after Rinck and as to all my 
 studies, asked if I had yet composed anything, how I got on 
 in Paris, if I had heard the most eminent pianists, of whom 
 Liszt was the very first, and so on. When I told him that I 
 had neither seen nor heard Liszt, he said I must call again in 
 a few days, in the morning, and he would give me an intro- 
 duction to him ; Liszt was a very nice young man, who would 
 certainly receive me very kindly. How pleased I am that 
 Meyerbeer should give me an introduction to that original 
 ft-llow Liszt I cannot describe. 'This also is all very good 
 and satisfactory. 
 
 The same evening I went to dine with Baron Eichthal, 
 
 where I was very cordially treated, and where I heard — 
 
 ' in. That was beyond all words. The few senses I had 
 
 quite left me. I could have jumped into the Seine.
 
 TO HIS PARENTS, 1836 225 
 
 Everything I hear now seems so insignificant, that I would 
 rather not hear it at all. Chopin ! He is no man, he is an 
 angel, a god (or what can I say more?). Chopin's composi- 
 tions played by Chopin ! That is a joy never to be surpassed. 
 I shall describe his playing another time. Kalkbrenner 
 compared to Chopin is a child. I say this with the com- 
 pletest conviction. During Chopin's playing I could think 
 of nothing but elves and fairy dances, such a wonderful 
 impression do his compositions make. There is nothing to 
 remind one that it is a human being who produces this 
 music. It seems to descend from heaven — so pure, and clear, 
 and spiritual. I feel a thrill each time I think of it. If 
 Liszt plays still better, then the devil take me if I don't 
 shoot myself on the spot. Chopin is moreover a charming, 
 delightful creature. He talked to me a long time, gave me 
 his address and the permission to go and see him often, a 
 permission he will not have given in vain. 
 
 But now, best of parents, I must stop, or Mr. Seltting- 
 haus will be running away without my letter. Farewell. 
 Mr. Selttinghaus will tell you how I am and how I live here. 
 Greet all my friends and relations, and be assured of the 
 lasting love of your son, Carolus. 
 
 XIII 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Paris: December 10, 1830. 
 
 Dearest Parents, — For the last time this year I sit down 
 to write to you, but this time you must be content with 
 little ; my letter to Uncle Harkort gives me some trouble, 
 and I must also write to my old Einck, to whom, of course, I 
 wrote soon after my arrival here, but as yet have had no 
 answer, so do not know if he is in good health, or dead, or if 
 my letter never reached him, which I should greatly regret, 
 for what would the good man have thought of me? With 
 all this writing I must not neglect my studies, so you must 
 
 Q
 
 2 20 LETTERS 
 
 rest satisfied with a single sheet ; there is, in fact, no need 
 for our writing much to each other, as I expect and hope to 
 be with you in nine or ten weeks, and how soon they will 
 pass ! But first let me thank you, dear father, for having 
 granted me another month. I know that it will be difficult 
 for you, and therefore my gratitude is all the greater. I 
 shall do my utmost to make the month of great profit to me. 
 Of what shall I write ? As I know that musical matters 
 interest you most, I shall begin with them, and tell you that 
 I have heard Liszt. 
 
 Meverbeer gave me a kind, two-pages-long letter of 
 introduction to him, which did not fail in its effect. 
 When I went for the first time I did not find Liszt at 
 home, and was told he only received on Monday and Friday 
 afternoons from 2 to 5 o'clock. As I have a lesson on 
 Fridays, I had to wait till Monday — a week to-day — when 
 I went towards 3 o'clock. How curious I was to see this 
 man, who has so remarkable a fame, you can easily imagine, 
 especially as he has the reputation, even in his outward 
 appearance, of being a most original creature ; and so I found 
 him. Liszt is the most original being in existence. When 
 I entered I found an assembly of thirty or forty persons, 
 among them many of the first artists of Paris, and even 
 several ladies, who had come to pay him homage (I had 
 noticed a great number of carriages at the door). He, the 
 feted Liszt, came to me at once, and I gave him my letter. 
 When he opened it he glanced at once at the signature, and 
 seeing the name of Meyerbeer he shook me again by the 
 hand and kindly bade me sit down. I did not accept the 
 invitation, as there were forty persons in the room and only 
 ten chairs, all of which were occupied. He did not notice it, 
 spoke to me a little while, and then sprang off to some one 
 else. I then had time to look at him carefully, and saw that 
 I had not been told too much about the originality of his 
 outward appearance. His aspect is truly remarkable. He 
 i- tall and very thin, his face very small and pale, his fore- 
 head remarkably high and beautiful ; he wears his perfectly
 
 TO HIS PATIENTS, 1836 
 
 227 
 
 lank hair so long that it spreads over liis shoulders, which 
 looks very odd, for when he gets a bit excited and gesticu- 
 lates, it falls right over his face and one sees nothing but his 
 nose. He is very negligent in his attire, his coat looks as if 
 it had just been thrown on, he wears no cravat, only a narrow 
 white collar. This curious figure is in perpetual motion : 
 now he stamps with his feet, now waves his arms in the air, 
 now he does this, now that. My hope of hearing him play 
 in his own house was deceived. He has no instrument .' 
 I remained a few hours with him, until one after another the 
 guests had left, then (Donnerivetter ! here is a terrible blot ! 
 How it came J know not, but to copy the letter would be 
 too tedious, so take blot and all !) I took my leave also. 
 He accompanied me to the ante-room, and said that on 
 Sunday (yesterday) he was giving a concert at the Con- 
 servatoire : that he would have given me a ticket with 
 the greatest pleasure had he a single one left to dispose of, 
 but he had given all his free tickets away, but if I cared 
 to go to the rehearsal I must be there on Saturday morning 
 at 9 o'clock, and that I must also come and see him very 
 often. 
 
 I have now heard him twice : at the rehearsal, where he 
 only played once, and at the concert three times, for I 
 invested five francs in a ticket. When I heard him first 1 
 sat speechless for a quarter of an hour afterwards, in such a 
 stupor of amazement had the man put me. Such execution, 
 such limitless — truly limitless — execution no one else can 
 possess. He plays sometimes so as to make your hair stand 
 on end ! He who has not heard Liszt can have no concep- 
 tion — literally no conception — of what his playing is. After 
 having heard him my resolution was taken. ' Now you go 
 straight home,' I said to myself, ' and grind frightfully for a 
 couple of years, and if at the end of the time you have accom- 
 plished anything fit, you may come back here.' And so it 
 shall be. 
 
 When I have worked very hard at home I shall certainly 
 then return to Paris, I like it so well ; so well, that already I 
 
 Q2
 
 228 LETTERS 
 
 could wish to stay here for ever ; and Paris is also the place 
 where one can earn money. 
 
 But now I must make a speedy end ; time presses. 
 Lebt recht wold ! Keep well ; I am so, and hope to remain 
 so. Spend a merry and happy Christmas, and think of me 
 (poor wretch !). Quickly and joyfully as those days flew 
 bv formerly, so slowly and sadly will they crawl for me 
 now ! 
 
 Adieu ! Lebt wohl ! Greet my relations and friends for 
 your true 
 
 Carolus. 
 
 Has Selttinghaus been to see you and delivered my 
 letters ? I had forgotten to tell you that my lessons with 
 Osborne are going on satisfactorily. We are both well 
 pleased with each other. If possible, write to me again 
 before the end of the year. Lebt wold ! On New Year's 
 Eve drink a glass of punch for me ! Here, dear mother, will 
 I answer your questions. 1. My clothes are still quite 
 good ; I can appear before any man in them. 2. I have had 
 my hair cut twice. 3. Of course I always wear woollen 
 socks now ; a 'propos, how cold is it now with you ? 
 Write and tell me. 4. I have had to buy a tall hat ; here it 
 is not proper to be without one ; indeed matters are carried so 
 far that one is not allowed to enter the Tuileries Gardens 
 unless one wears a tall hat ; the sentries send you back with 
 ' On ne passe pas.' Now farewell, dear, good mother ! 
 
 XIV 
 
 TO HIS PARENTS 
 
 (Translated from the German') 
 
 London : April 27, 1848. 
 
 My dear Parents, — Forgive me for not having written for 
 
 so long ; courage failed me to do so ; I could not make up my 
 
 mind to give only bad news, and of good news, alas ! I had 
 
 none to give. The Revolution has dealt me an incalculable
 
 TO HIS PARENTS, 1848 229 
 
 blow, from the effects of which I shall have to suffer for a 
 long time. Paris is in a sad and pitiable state, and God 
 knows if it will ever recover itself; that my position there, 
 at least for the present, is quite lost, you will already have 
 guessed. All my colleagues are in the same case. I have 
 been here in London three weeks, striving hard to make a 
 new position, and I hope I shall succeed ; pupils I already 
 have, although as yet they are not many. The competition 
 is very keen, for, besides the native musicians, there are 
 at present here — Thalberg, Chopin, Kalkbrenner, Pixis, 
 Osborne, Prudent, Pillet, and a lot of other pianists besides 
 myself who have all, through necessity, been driven to Eng- 
 land, and we shall probably end by devouring one another. 
 During the last few days I have begun to hope, as I have 
 several times played in public with great success, and trust 
 soon to have got my footing. Until now, sadness has been 
 the order of the day, but, I assure you, my courage does not 
 fail me. My family has, of course, remained in Paris, and 
 you can easily fancy that, all alone, I do not feel very 
 happy. 
 
 O damnable Revolution ! 
 
 Should things mend in Paris, I shall return there after 
 the London season ; but should they remain in the same 
 condition I must of necessity establish myself here and bring 
 my family over, for in Paris one might starve — there will be 
 no thought of music there. In Germany, also, everything 
 seems in hateful disorder — madness is at home everywhere. 
 But do not grieve too much for me, my dear parents; sad as 
 things appear at the present moment, I am assuredly con- 
 fident that I shall worry through, only it will cost some 
 trouble. Write to me soon, it will give me comfort. My 
 address is 28 Maddox Street, Regent Street, London. 
 
 What I wrote to you, dear mother, in my last letter, con- 
 cerning the little drafts in case of need, remains unaltered, 
 only you must send them to my wife in Paris, as till now 
 I have but little money here, and left all I could in Paris. 
 I call courage and hope to your aid, as I do to my own.
 
 236 LETTERS 
 
 Write to me, my dear, dear parents ; as soon as thing3 
 take a better turn I shall let you know; you may rely 
 upOB it. 
 
 l-bye, father, mother, Anna; again good-bye, lebi 
 H-ohl; keep to your loving thoughts your ever-loving and sad 
 and brother, 
 
 Carl Halle. 
 
 XV 
 
 FROM MR. H. LEO 
 
 Manchester: August 4, 1848. 
 
 Mv dear Mr. Halle, — According to your wish, I hasten 
 to inform you of the state of things here, so that you may 
 come to a decision on your return. . . . My opinion has not 
 changed in the very least, and should you resolve upon 
 coming to Manchester, it is my innermost conviction that 
 your success will be complete 
 
 You will feel the delicacy of my position with respect to 
 vim. I should so heartily rejoice to have you here, and yet, 
 believe me, I would not let myself be so swayed by selfish- 
 ness as to give you advice against my own convictions. 
 Were you my brother, I should say : Come to Manchester. All 
 the same I cannot, and must not, accept the responsibility of 
 the step. If you feel the courage and strength to trust Man- 
 chester with your fate, I believe you would do right, and 
 would not regret it, but if you will not take the risk we must 
 submit, and only beg you to give us credit for our good 
 intentions. The post is closing; perhaps I shall write a few 
 to-morrow if anything occurs to me. — Ever yours, 
 
 H. Leo. 1 
 
 1 My father had no access to the foregoing letters when writing his 
 lira, which ho did entirely from memory.
 
 FROM HIS WIFE, 1848 231 
 
 XVI 
 
 [The following lines are taken from a letter from my 
 mother to her sister at New Orleans.] 
 
 3 Addison Terrace, Victoria Park, 
 
 Manchester: 19 septembre 1848. 
 
 .... En attendant laisse-moi te dire que nous sommes 
 ;'i .Manchester depuis le 6 de ce mois ; la derniere lettre 
 de Mathilde t'a appris que Charles, ayant recu de cette ville 
 des propositions plus avantageuses encore que celle de Bath, 
 s'etait decide a s y fixer ; surtout en y trouvant des ressources 
 musicales immenses il ne pouvait pas balancer entre ces 
 deux villes. Voila a peine un mois qu'il y est, et deja nous 
 pouvons esperer lui voir occuper bientot une magnifiqne 
 position (la moitie de son temps est pris par des lecons) ; on 
 lui demande de toute part une serie de Matinees Musicales 
 dans le genre de celles qu'il donnait a Paris ; Mr. Leo, qui 
 l'a decide a se fixer ici, et qui est notre bon ange, me disait 
 hier soir qu'elles lui rapporteraient au moins huit mille 
 francs cliaque annee ; Mercredi dernier il a joue un concerto 
 de Beethoven a la Societe des Amateurs. II a obtenu un 
 magnifique succes ; jamais je n'ai vu un entliousiasme si grand 
 et si general ; il a ete engage au concert meme de jouer au 
 prochain Festival de Liverpool ; son nom est tellement connu 
 par toute l'Angleterre qu'un editeur de Londres est venu 
 hier a Manchester lui offrir de prendre toutes ses composi- 
 tions a raison de 10 frs. la page gravee 
 
 Si tu pouvais voir toutes les bontes de Charles pour nous ; 
 son cceur lui inspire des supercheries charmantes, ainsi il 
 m'avait ecrit a Londres que Manchester n'gtant pas une 
 ville de plaisance, il ne pouvait trouver de maison meublee, 
 et qu'il se voyait oblige de prendre la seule qui lui etait 
 offerte ; qu'elle etait fort laide, ce qui le contrariait beaucoup. 
 Notre vie devant etre toute d'interieur il aurait desire nous 
 donner au moins l'agrement d'etre bien loge ; juge de notre
 
 LETTERS 
 
 Le Boir de notre arrived, de trouver une charmante petite 
 de delicieux jardins, placee au milieu d'un 
 pare, et ayant tout le contort des habitations anglaises, tapis 
 partout, etc. etc. Ses eleves et cette bonne Mrs. Leo avaient, 
 pour nous feter, eclaire* toutes les pieces, dans lesquelles se 
 trouvaienl de grandes corbeilles de fieurs naturelles; il 
 fallait voir la joie de ce pauvre Carl, combien il jouissait en 
 
 enfant de notre bonne surprise II m'est impossible, 
 
 chere scenr, de te dire ce que j'ai eprouve d'immense 
 bonheur en ce moment, qui seul aurait sum" pour me faire 
 
 oublier ces derniers six mois 
 
 Les habitants de cette ville sont tres bons ; ils sont si 
 tiers de posseder un artiste comme Charles qu'ils cherchent a 
 deviner tout ce qui peut nous etre agreable; toute la pre- 
 miere eociete s'est empressee de venir nous voir, nous 
 Bommes accablSs d'invitations et de visites. Nous avons 
 trouvr en Mr. Leo un veritable pere, il n'est pas possible 
 d'etre plus devoues que lui et sa femme ; ils ont su m'eviter 
 tous les ennuis d'une installation en persuadant a un de 
 leurs amis, qui partait pour 1'Allemagne, de nous louer, pour 
 12/. par mois, la charmante petite maison que nous occu- 
 pons. La vie est beaucoup moins chere qua Paris. 1 
 
 1 [Translation"] 
 
 3 Addison Terrace, "Victoria Park, 
 
 Manchester: September 19, 1848. 
 
 .... Meanwhile let me tell you that we have been at Manchester 
 since the Cth of this month ; Mathilde's last letter informed you that 
 -, having received proposals from this town more advantageous than 
 those from Bath, had decided to establish himself here, where, more- 
 over, he finds such immense musical resources that he could not hesitate 
 .<> towns. He has hardly been here a month, and we may 
 already hope to see him occupy a magnificent position; half his time is 
 taken up with lessons, and on all sides he is being asked to give a series of 
 .J matinees like those he gave in Paris; Mr. Leo, who induced him 
 bablish himself here, and who is our good angel, told me last night 
 that they would bring him in at least eight thousand francs a year; last 
 Wednesday he played a Concerto of Beethoven's for the Amateur Society ; 
 lie obtained a magnificent success; I never saw such great and general 
 enthusiasm ; during the concert he was offered an engagement to play at
 
 TO II. F. CHORLEY, 1860 233 
 
 XVII 
 
 TO H. F. CHORLEY 
 
 Manchester: 23 aotit 1850, 
 Greenheys. 
 
 Mon cher Chorley, — Vous savez, j espere, qu'avant nion 
 depart de Londres j'ai fait plusieurs tentatives pour vous 
 trouver chez vous, mais elles ont toutes echoue et a mon bien 
 grand regret ; car j'avais bien besoin de causer longuement 
 avec vous et de vous deinander, une fois de plus, votre avis et 
 vos bons conseils sur le changement de residence que je pro- 
 jette depuis si longtemps, sans avoir jusqu'ici pu parvenir a 
 l'exrcuter. 
 
 Une bonne causerie vaut mieux qu'une longue correspon- 
 dance, mais nialgre cela, si vous voulez bien me repondre 
 
 the forthcoming Liverpool Festival ; his name is so well known throughout 
 England that a London publisher came to Manchester yesterday to offer 
 to take all his compositions, at the rate of ten francs the printed 
 page 
 
 If you could only see all Charles's goodness to us ; his heart inspires 
 him with charming deceits ; thus he had written to me to London that 
 Manchester, not being a city of pleasure, he had not been able to lind a 
 furnished house, and had been obliged to take the only house that had 
 been offered to him, and that it was a very ugly one, which annoyed him 
 greatly, for our life here having to be entirely a home- life, he would have 
 wished at least to give us the pleasure of being well-lodged. Judge of our 
 delight, the evening of our arrival, to find a charming little house sur- 
 rounded by delicious gardens, situated in the middle of a park, and with 
 all the comforts of an English habitation, carpets everywhere, &c, &c. 
 His pupils and good Mrs. Leo, in order to welcome us, had lighted up 
 all the rooms, in which were placed large baskets of flowers ; you should 
 have seen poor Charles's joy, how he rejoiced like a child at our glad sur- 
 prise It would be impossible, dear sister, to tell you the immense 
 
 happiness that lilled me at that moment, which would alone have safficed 
 to make me forget the past six months 
 
 The inhabitants of this town are very kind ; they seem so proud of 
 possessing an artist like Charles, that they try to guess what would give 
 us pleasure; all the best society hastened to call upon us; we are over- 
 whelmed with invitations and visits. We have found a real father in Mr. 
 Leo, it would be impossible to be more devoted than he and his wife are to us ; 
 they managed to spare me all the annoyance of furnishing by persuading 
 one of their friends, who was going to Germany, to let us, for 121. a 
 month, the delightful little house we occupy. Life is much cheaper than 
 in Faris.
 
 234 LETTERS 
 
 quelques mots mux questions que je compte vous adresser, 
 j'en tirerai tonjours grand profit, et vous en serai bien recon- 
 naissant. croyez-le-moi. 
 
 l/id.'v de me fixer a Londres a tellement muri dans ma 
 que je commence enfin a croire que je lemettrai en exe- 
 cution cet hiver; il me semble du moins que je ne pourrai 
 jamais trouver un moment plus favorable; la mort de ma- 
 dame Dulcken et le depart de Benedict doivent laisser, 
 momentanfiment, un vide qui rendra peut-etre une prompte 
 reussite plus facile. 
 
 Si j'hesite encore un peu, c'est uniquement parce que ma 
 position ici est reellement tres belle, et l'idee de la perdre, sans 
 retronver bientot une au moins equivalente, me tourmente a 
 cause de ma famille qui est nombreuse, comme vous savez. 
 Vous comprendrez done, mon clier Chorley, pourquoi je 
 demande a mes vrais amis, et je vous compte parmi eux, de 
 m'aider de leurs conseils et de m'indiquer, autant que cela se 
 pent, les moyeus qui pourraient rendre ma reussite plus 
 prompte et plus facile. Je connais trop peu le terrain de 
 Londres pour pouvoir vous faire des questions precises, 
 excepte pourtant celle-ci : a quelle epoque me conseillez-vous 
 de venir ? Serait-il necessaire pour moi d'arriver avant le 
 mois de Janvier ou fevrier ? 'Pour tout le reste je m'en remets 
 a votre obligeance ; je suis persuade que tous les conseils que 
 vous pourrez me donner, vous me les donnerez, et je vous 
 promets de les suivre avec reconnaissance. Si vous pouvez 
 entrer dans des details, meme sur le quartier que vous me 
 conseilleriez d'habiter, faites-le, je vous prie ; vous me par- 
 donnerez mon indiscretion, j'espere, en faveur de l'importance 
 de la question. 
 
 Ce que je vous demanderai encore, mon cher Chorley, 
 c'est que si vous doutiez de ma reussite a Londres, de me le 
 dire en ami et sans detour, et pour vous mettre plus a meme 
 de pouvoir le faire, je vous dirai franchement, entre nous, que 
 je gagne ici de 1200?. a 1300/. par an, cequi vous expliquera 
 aussi mon embarras. 
 
 Je vous repete, mon cher Chorley, que tous vos conseils
 
 TO II. F. CTIORLEY, 1850 23-J 
 
 seront recus avec reconnaissance, et laissez-moi esperer que 
 vous ne m'en voudrez pas de vous causer tant d'ennui. 
 Mille compliments affectueux de ma femme et de 
 Votre sincerement devoue ami, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 H. F. Chorley, Esq. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Manchester: August 23, 1850, Greenheys. 
 
 My dear Chorley,— I hope you are aware that, before leaving London, I 
 made several attempts to find you at home, but they were all in vain, to 
 my very great regret; for I wanted greatly to have a long talk with you ; 
 and to ask your advice once more as to the change of residence that I have 
 so long projected, without having yet been able to put it into execution. 
 
 One good conversation is worth more than a lengthy correspondence, 
 but nevertheless, if you will have the goodness to answer a few words to 
 the questions I shall put to you, I shall always greatly profit by them, 
 and shall be very grateful, believe me. 
 
 The idea of establishing myself in London has so ripened in my mind 
 that I begin to think that I shall carry it out this winter ; it seems to me, 
 at least, that I could never find a more favourable moment ; the death of 
 Madame Dulcken, and Benedict's departure, must leave a momentary void 
 which may, perhaps, make a prompt success more easy. If I still hesitate 
 a little, it is solely because my position here is really a very good one, and 
 the thought of losing it, without soon finding at least an equivalent one, 
 torments me on account of my family, which is a large one, as you know. 
 You will understand therefore, my dear Chorley, why I ask my true 
 friends, and I count you among them, to aid me by their counsels and to 
 indicate, as far a^ may be, the means that might serve to render success 
 more prompt and more easy. I know too little of the terrain of London 
 to be able to ask you precise questions, excepting this one however : At 
 what time of the year should you advise me to arrive ? would it be neces- 
 sary for me to come before the month of January or February 1 As to all 
 the rest. I trust in your good nature ; I know that you will give me all the 
 advice you can, and I promise to follow it with gratitude. 
 
 If you can enter int-> details, even as to the part of the town that you 
 would recommend me to reside in, do so, I beg of you; you will forgive 
 my indiscretion, I hope, in virtue of the importance of the question. 
 
 Another thing I would ask you, my dear Chorley, is that if you have 
 any doubts as to my success in London, you will tell me so as a friend, 
 and without circumlocution, and to place you more in a position to do so, I 
 will tell you frankly, between ourselves, that I earn between 1,2001. and 
 l,300Z. a year here ; this will explain my hesitation. 
 
 I repeat, my dear Chorley, that all your advice will be received with 
 gratitude, and let me hope that you will bear me no ill-will for giving you 
 so much trouble. 
 
 A thousand affectionate compliments from my wife and from your 
 sincerely devoted friend, Charles Halle.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 XVIII 
 
 TO — GLOVER, ESQ. 
 
 [The following is one of the first letters my father ever 
 wrote in English. Up to this time his correspondence, even 
 with the managing director of the Concert Hall, had always 
 been carried on in French or German ; but from the date of 
 : rival in Manchester he had perseveringly taught himself 
 English, carrying on the study principally in the omnibuses, 
 on the way to and from his pupils' houses. Every morning 
 he left home with a dictionary or grammar in his pocket, and 
 by the autumn of 1850 he could write as follows :] 
 
 Manchester : September 13, 1850. 
 Greenheys. 
 
 Pear Sir. — Allow me to present you my best thanks for 
 
 the copy of your ' Jerusalem,' which you have had the kind- 
 
 10 send me, and the perusal of which will certainly give 
 
 me a very great pleasure. 
 
 As to the execution of your work at the next Xmas con- 
 
 cert, 1 think you should apply to the directors of the Concert 
 
 Hall, as I have only to conduct, but not to make the choice 
 
 of the performance, and if they accept your proposition, I for 
 
 !f, will very readily join them. 
 
 Excuse my bad English, and, believe me, dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 — Glover, Esq. 
 
 XIX 
 
 TO HIS MOTHER 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Greenhej's, Manchester : 
 April 10, 1851. 
 My dear Mother, — I have let many fete-days pass with- 
 ending you my good wishes, but I have perfect confidence 
 t hat you have not been angry with me, as you know my busy
 
 TO HIS MOTHER, 1851 237 
 
 life too well. But your birthday I will not pass over, but 
 wish you such a joyful day, and in this wish all my family 
 unite, that you may desire to have very many more to come. 
 I also shall be a year older to-morrow, and expect a very 
 pleasant day, for, as my birthday present, we shall have 
 the christening of our fat Fred, who seems almost able to 
 run to church by himself, and is sure to make faces at 
 the priest during the ceremony. Ernst is coming pur- 
 posely from London to make music for me in the even- 
 ing ; we are all well and hearty ; we shall see many good 
 friends, so I have every right to expect a very pleasant day 
 of rest. 
 
 Your dear letters, which always give me the greatest 
 pleasure, are looked forward to with eagerness, and they are 
 always too short for me, and give me too few details of your 
 life, which I should be so glad to follow step by step ; once 
 for all, believe me that the minutest details are interesting to 
 me. It is a blessing for you that Bernard ! is here, who, I 
 hope, sends you the amplest news of everything that happens ; 
 where should I find the time for it ? In spite, however, of 
 my being so busy, the new arrangement works so well that I 
 am never over-tired, but always get to work with eagerness 
 and pleasure, which formerly I could not have said. Ber- 
 nard will also have informed you of the changes that will 
 take place next month with regard to Mathilde ; the thing 
 may be considered fortunate, but for my poor mother-in-law 
 the separation from her daughter will be very painful, and I 
 doubt if she will get over it. 
 
 Next week I go for a little while to London, but shall 
 return here in the beginning of May for the wedding. The 
 day before yesterday I played there, and, thank God ! with 
 the usual success. The news of your musical doings amused 
 me very much — by all means go on with them. Now, dear 
 mother and dear Anna, lebt recht wohl. Desiree, Mathilde, the 
 four children send you their best love, and I beg you to give 
 
 1 His younger brother.
 
 238 LETTERS 
 
 mine to all my dear friends and relations. Write very soon 
 to your loving son and brother, 
 
 Carl. 
 
 P.S. — In your next letter, my dear mother, I beg you to 
 give nic an idea of the state of your finances, that my mind 
 may be easy, 
 
 XX 
 
 TO FERD. HILLER 
 (Translated from the German') 
 
 Manchester: July 31, 1851. 
 My dear Hiller, — Through Ernst, I heard a few days ago, 
 with joyful surprise, of your arrival in London, and to-day I 
 received the card you sent me by young Mr. Cleather, which 
 I took as a proof that you still remember me. Therefore, I 
 ask you at once, how long are you staying in London ? It is 
 my intention to take my wife for a few days to London that 
 she may see the Exhibition, and if I only knew how long you 
 meant to stay I should arrange this excursion so as to meet 
 you there. 
 
 It would give me so much pleasure to spend a few hours 
 with you. and to hear full details of your new and beautiful 
 position ; we have much to relate on both sides ; nine years 
 have passed since I saw you last, and they have brought much 
 and taken much away; the few days I spent at that time 
 with you, and the hearty kindness of your hospitality, belong 
 to the dearest and pleasantest of my recollections. Write to 
 roe soon, dear Hiller, and let me know when I must start 
 in oider to be able to tell you by word of mouth how much I 
 care for, and esteem you. 
 
 To our speedy meeting, therefore. My wife adds her 
 kindest remembrances to my own. 
 
 Your faithful friend, 
 
 C. Halle.
 
 TO ERNST, 1851 239 
 
 XXI 
 
 TO ERNST 
 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Manchester: August 10, 1851. 
 
 My clear Ernst, — Mr. Kaufmann is at last on the wing 
 and starts to-morrow, and with him the long-desired shirt-, 
 to which I wish all possible success. Before we speak of 
 anything else I must, by my wife's orders, give you a few 
 explanations, as follows : the number of them is eight, and the 
 cost 51. 9s., which makes for each specimen 13s. and a frac- 
 tion, as it was estimated. Mr. Kaufmann is therefore com- 
 missioned to return you lis. The shirts are all well cut, and, 
 it is to be hoped, will fit well, only the front buttons are not 
 all put on aright, and do not quite exactly face the button- 
 holes ; that you will have to get remedied ; we only discovered 
 the blunder to-day, or it would have been set right here. 
 As a final clause let me add, that should the quality of the 
 linen, or anything else, not please you, I am ready to keep 
 them myself. Your own pattern is returned with them. 
 
 Now let us have done with the shirts ! — First let me beg 
 you to interest yourself in our good friend Kaufmann ; it is, 
 I believe, his first visit to Paris, and you can give him many 
 useful hints. I am also giving him a few lines for Heller, 
 perhaps for Lehmann as well, and if you can make him 
 acquainted with a few others capable of furthering the object 
 of his visit to Paris — to amuse himself — I shall be much be- 
 holden to you. As a capital viola-player he deserves all one's 
 sympathies, and certainly he is a very good fellow. 
 
 I see in to-day's ' Musical Work ' that you are going to 
 travel and give concerts in Switzerland, and that Stockhausen 
 goes with you. I envy you both, and should like to be of 
 the party. One of these days we must really treat ourselves 
 to such a little freak, and do a little artistic travel together ; 
 if it does not amuse the public, it certainly will amuse us so 
 well, that we may forget the noble public altogether. I 
 imagine we should have great fun.
 
 o^O LETTERS 
 
 Before you undertake the Swiss journey I hope to hear 
 from you : write at length, how you are, what your further 
 projects are after Switzerland, and above all, when we may 
 - ■ you in England again; if you intend to return 
 with the fogs, or think of other winter quarters. Write 
 about it all fully for once in a way, just for the sake of 
 
 Jty, and you shall be praised. Joking apart, you know 
 much it is our wish to be able to follow you, at least in 
 thought, and a long letter would be taken as a real proof of 
 friendship. 
 
 In anticipation of your questions, I inform you at once 
 that all my family are well, the children have got rid of the 
 whooping-cough, and my wife is well and hearty. The only 
 one who gives me great anxiety is my brother ; since his 
 return the cough and hemorrhage have recommenced, and I 
 think he will have to leave England. 
 
 I am making the most of the comparatively quiet time, 
 and work very hard, so as, if possible, to produce something ; 
 for when, next month, the treadmill of lessons begins anew, 
 everything else comes to a stop. 
 
 What are you doing ? Did I dream of a quartet that you 
 began long ago, or did you speak of it ? Anyhow, I ask how 
 far you have got with it. I should also be glad to hear of 
 Heller's work ; induce him to write to me again. 
 
 Now, farewell, dear friend, and receive, with our heartiest 
 greetings, our best wishes for your happiness and content- 
 ment. A thousand kind messages to Eckert, Frank, &c, &c, 
 and write soon to your true friend, Halle. 
 
 Matkilde has safely reached New Orleans. 
 
 XXII 
 
 TO STEPHEN HELLER 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Manchester: August 10, 1851. 
 My dear Heller, — These lines will be delivered to you by 
 one of my best friends here, Mr. Kaufmann, and you would 
 oblige me greatly, by doing your utmost to further his inten-
 
 TO STEPHEN HELLER, 1851 241 
 
 tion of amusing himself during the eight days of his first 
 visit to Paris. Be is a nice, clever, and musical young man. 
 Treat him therefore as you would wish me to treat one of 
 your friends. 
 
 And now let me ask how things have gone with you during 
 the long time that we have not seen, and still less written to 
 each other. From time to time I have heard through Ernst 
 that you were well, but that was all, so you see that there is 
 many a hiatus to fill up ; let me hope you will repair them 
 here and there, and I shall be grateful. 
 
 How often I curse my own laziness in letter-writing I 
 cannot tell you, for otherwise I hope I should not be so 
 entirely cut off from my old friends as is now the case ; to say 
 nothing of the fact that it gives them the full right to lose 
 confidence in me; but should this ever happen to you, then 
 think of the old days, and believe that I am always unchanged 
 and the same, that is to say that I have never felt so closely 
 drawn, nor attached in such true friendship, to any man as 
 to you. You will perhaps say : ' il n'y parait pas,' but all the 
 same it is so. 
 
 Above all give me news of your work, dear Heller. Of 
 course I know what has been published in England since 
 last year, but I suppose that is not all ; what has become of 
 the Sonata (in B if I am not mistaken) of which you played 
 the beginning to me in London ? You were yourself, and 
 with full cause, so very satisfied with this opening that I 
 hoped you would not rest until it was completed ; if it is 
 actually so, do come out with it, nor let us, who are so well- 
 disposed, pine any longer for it in vain. 
 
 Of the published works I like best the charming ' Ber- 
 ceuse,' the exhilarating ' Chasse,' and the delicious little piece 
 on Mendelssohn's ' Minnelied.' I play them often ; I like 
 the others also, and produce them often, but the first are my 
 special favourites. But give us something greater, dear 
 Heller, something to work at, otherwise we shall get lazy. 
 Things are going sadly in the musical world, a penury reigns 
 which you know better than I ; to whom shall we turn for 
 
 E
 
 242 LETTERS 
 
 comfort ? Therefore, out of compassion, you should come to the 
 rescue ; it is your bounden duty, for you are the only one to 
 whom the faithful can look for help. 
 
 Nexl winter, most probably in January, I shall certainly 
 ou in Paris, if only for a short time; let us hope we may 
 live through some of the old days again : I am still ready to 
 come to you at night, with a bottle of champagne under my 
 cloak, and under such circumstances to play through the 
 9th Symphony again. But I will not speak of next January 
 as if until then we were to be dead to each other ; on the con- 
 trary, write to me, and you shall see that I also will mend 
 my ways. 
 
 Ernst will have imparted to you news of all that has 
 occurred here of interest, also that M. has married our brother- 
 in-law M., and that they have arrived safely at New Orleans. 
 Of musical events there have been few, but I am anxious to 
 know the effect of Gounod's opera ; the most certain part of 
 it will be a duet between Davison and Chorley. As I hear, 
 Berlioz has greatly praised Thalberg's opera — oh, weakness ! 
 La plume est donnee a Vhomme pour deguiser sa pensee. 
 
 Adieu, dear Heller, and lebe tuohl ! My wife sends you 
 her kindest greetings, and still hopes to see you some day at 
 Greenheys. Write soon, bleibe gut. 
 
 Your faithful and true friend, 
 
 Halle. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 TO MR. RENSHAW 
 
 Manchester: 14 aout 1851, 
 Greenhe) r s. 
 Mon cher Renshaw, 1 — Jepense, commevous, que lesmor- 
 coaux que Beale nous nomme sont vieux comme le monde, 
 mais que faire ? II y a un trio dans ' II Flauto Magico ' (' Dun- 
 que il mio ben non vedro piii ? '), que vous pourrez proposer, 
 mais je ne crois pas qu'il y en ait dans ' Le Prophete,' plutot 
 dans ' Les Huguenots ; ' mais c'est surtout contre les Duos 
 
 1 Director of the Manchester Concert Hall.
 
 TO ME. EENSHAW, MANCHESTER, 1851 243- 
 
 qu'il faut se revolter : nous les avons eus quatre cents fois au 
 moins, et il doit y en avoir d'autres dans le monde, peut-etre 
 yen a-t-il dans ' Le Prophete,' et certainement dans ' Robert ' 
 ou ' Les Huguenots.' Je ne connais pas plus Mile Fischer 
 que vous ; pourtant, je pense que pour le concert ou Mme 
 Sontag cliantera nous aurons plutot besoin d'un chanteur que 
 d'une chanteuse, et pour cette raison je prefererais Stigelli ; 
 qui aurons-nous encore ? 
 
 L'air de Stradella, celui de ' Saffo ' et les Spanish Songs 
 seront interessants ; Tamberlick devrait chanter autre chose 
 que l'eternel ' Tesoro ; ' ' Le Piff, paff ' n'ira qu'avec accom- 
 pagnement d'orchestre, que nous n'avons pas pu obtenir la 
 derniere fois lorsque Formes voulait le chanter. Tamberlick 
 chante l'air de ' Fidelio ' tres bien, pourvu que cela fasse de 
 Teffet dans un concert ; proposez-le-lui toujours. 
 
 Quant aux ouvertures, je pense que pour le premier con- 
 cert celles de ' Preciosa,' ' Fra Diavolo ' et ' Nozze di Figaro ' 
 suffiront ; mercredi prochain nous en essayerons quelques 
 nouvelles pour le second. Du reste j'approuve parfaitement 
 votre programme, et si vous venez mercredi a la repetition 
 nous pourrons en causer encore. 
 
 Mille amities de 
 Votre bien devoue 
 
 Charles Halle. 1 
 
 1 [ Translation'] 
 
 Manchester: August 14, 1851, Greenheys. 
 
 My dear Renshaw, — I think, with you, that the pieces Beale proposes 
 are as old as the hills, but what can we do ? There is a trio in ' The Magic 
 Flute ' ( ' Dunque il mio ben non vedro piu ? ' ) which you might suggest, but 
 I do not think there is one in ' Le Prophete,' rather in ' Les Huguenots ; ' 
 but it is especially against the duets that we must rebel, we have had 
 them four hundred times, at least, and there must be others in exNterce, 
 perhaps there are some in the ' Prophete ' and certainly in ' Robert ' or ' Les 
 Huguenots.' I know no more of Mile. Fischer than you do, but I think 
 that for a concert at which Madame Sontag is to sing we rather need a 
 male singer than another lady, and for this reason I should prefer 
 Stigelli ; whom have we besides ? 
 
 The air of Stradella, the one from ' Saffo,' and the Spanish songs will be 
 interesting; Tamberlick ought to sing something else besides the eternal
 
 214 LETTERS 
 
 XXIV 
 
 TO ERNST 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Manchester: September 19, 1851. 
 
 My dear Ernst, — I must hasten, if I am to send you a 
 line from Greenlieys before you have taken flight, I hope with 
 renewed strength and vigour, from your quiet Bougival to 
 heaven knows what corner of the world. The story of your 
 sufferings, old friend, touched me more than I can say. I 
 felt for all your annoyances, but I have the firm conviction, 
 that just this idyllic HiOvnerleben 1 and the complete rest have 
 been your best cure, and that our friend Roth has had an 
 easy task. But try to let this cure suffice, a repetition of it 
 might be terribly tedious ; everything in moderation, even an 
 idyll in Bougival. 
 
 Your life lately could, it seems, be described in a few 
 words, and so indeed could ours, as far as outside events are 
 concerned ; always the same eating and drinking parties, the 
 same chess and whist parties, only in the latter there has 
 been a slight interruption, friend Stern having gone for three 
 weeks to Frankfort, to recover from the delights of too much 
 lobster, but he is expected home to-morrow, and all will be 
 the same again. 
 
 My brother still causes me great anxiety, and I am now 
 convinced that the English climate would destroy him entirely 
 if he remained here much longer; therefore he starts for Italy 
 
 ' Tesoro ; ' ' Piff, paff,' would only do with orchestral accompaniment, 
 which we were unable to procure last time, when Formes wanted to sing 
 it. Tamberlick sings the air from ' Fidelio ' very well, provided that it 
 prove effective in a concert room ; propose it to him, anyhow. 
 
 A- to the overtures, I think that for the first concert those of 
 ' Preciosa,' ' Fra Diavolo ' and ' Nozze di Figaro ' will suffice ; next Wednes- 
 day we shall try some new ones for the second. For the rest I perfectly 
 approve of your programme, and if you will come to the rehearsal on 
 sday we can talk of it further. 
 A thousand kind regards from your very devoted 
 
 Chaules Halle. 
 1 Leadirjg a life like the fowls.
 
 TO ERNST, MANCHESTER, 1851 245 
 
 in October, most probably to some town in Sicily, and I hope 
 he may return in a few years quite recovered and strong 
 again ; all the doctors promise it ; may they be right ! This 
 is for the present the only cloud on our horizon, but you will 
 believe that it is a very dark one. We have good news of 
 M., she seems to be pleased with her new life, and to have 
 made many friends ; greetings to you I must not forget. 
 
 Our friend the viola-player and shirt-carrier seems to 
 have enjoyed himself right well in Paris, but much regrets 
 not to have seen you at all, and Heller only once ; please tell 
 the latter that I was astonished to hear from the aforesaid 
 friend viola-player that he had reproached Heller for not 
 having kept his promise to send me news of Gounod's opera ; 
 a promise which Heller denied, and with good reason. I 
 knew quite well he made no such promise, and cannot under- 
 stand through what confusion of ideas Kaufmann had come to 
 such a conclusion. I laughed heartily at the mistake. After 
 this explanation I hope Heller will bear me no further grudge 
 but will write to me soon ; urge him to do so, the man has no 
 idea what pleasure he would give me. Of late I have busied 
 myself more than usual with his works, for instance his great 
 (B minor) sonata suddenly became quite clear to me, and 
 delighted and touched me much. I had not previously gone 
 into it so deeply. I had found many beauties but had not 
 entirely lifted the veil from them all. It now appears to me 
 as his greatest and most complete work, and one which, with- 
 out exaggeration, has in my opinion few rivals of its kind ; it 
 makes me eager to talk to Heller about it, and almost to ask 
 his pardon for having been so slow in arriving at this convic- 
 tion, but how can one make it clear in words that one under- 
 stands apiece of music? one can only give the assurance with- 
 out being able to offer proof ; therefore I hope during this 
 winter, by playing it to him, to give him such a proof. I 
 have made up my mind in short to go to Paris in February, 
 at last, even if only for a few weeks, and I promise myself 
 many pleasant hours with Heller during the time. 
 
 Now to come back to yourself. I was much pleased to
 
 246 LETTERS 
 
 hear that you had the good intention to employ your quiet 
 time in Bongival in composition, and hope you will com- 
 municate the result at our next meeting. How is the quartet 
 
 ing on? I shall perhaps have one also to pester you 
 with, at least I am working at one, and, naturally, your play- 
 
 a >n mis continually in my ear, and helps me greatly. 
 
 :i was here lately, at the Free Trade Hall, but caused 
 little /'"/•<>/•»' ; such rubbish as the man plays now I had never 
 heard, and really, as an artist, felt ashamed of him. Sainton 
 1 a fortnight ago at the Concert Hall, where, at last, 
 a i had Madame Sontag. Spohr's ninth concerto, first-rate, 
 only the double-stopping in the finale did not quite succeed; 
 moreover I find this j'nude very empty and tiresome. 
 
 The news that Hiller has accepted the Paris post and, I 
 believe, the London one as well, I had already been told, as a 
 
 it, by Stern, only I do not clearly understand the matter ; 
 in the German papers it is said that he is chef d'orchestre ; you 
 call him general music director, and Stern tells me he will re- 
 place Lumley, who, for the future, will merely look on, and does 
 not intend to conduct again ; if this be true, I do not think 
 the situation will be a very pleasant one. If you see him in 
 Paris please recall me to his memory. 
 
 Now. enough gossip for to-day; exert yourself on your side, 
 old friend ; write, above all, that you have quite recovered, and 
 do not forget to make me acquainted with 3*our plans, so 
 that I may be able to write to you from time to time. Greet 
 all friends and acquaintances for me, and it is self-understood 
 that all from here most heartily do the same by you. Leben 
 ■1,1 und glucklich! Your faithful C. Halle. 
 
 XXV 
 
 FROM HENRY F. CHORLEY 
 
 13 Eaton Place, W. 
 October 20, 1851. 
 My dear Halle, — My holiday is now over. Is yours 
 / to come? or have the young Manchester ladies caught 
 hold of you, and won't let you go ? I wish we could have met
 
 FROM II. F. CIIORLEY, 1851 247 
 
 somewhere in Italy, because there is something in 
 the air of that country which makes me more agreeable 
 than I am anywhere else ; however, so completely this 
 year have I proved the value of it as a prescription, 
 that I think I shall try it again next year, in spite of the 
 dirt, and in spite of the dust, and in spite of the heat, 
 and in spite of the fleas. Perhaps this next time I may be 
 more lucky in finding company. I came home by Genoa, 
 Turin, over the Mont Cenis, to Lyons, Paris, where I stayed 
 about nine days, and arrived at home on Saturday night with 
 literally not enough money to pay my cab ! Paris seemed 
 very full. I saw Mme. Viardot twice, who had come from 
 the country to nurse M. Scheffer, who is very ill. She 
 seemed well and in cheerful spirits, and she spoke of Berlin 
 in January, and then of coming to England immediately, 
 with some view, I fancy, of passing a large part of her time 
 here. It really seems to me that, if this be the case, consi- 
 dering the lost prestige of the Philharmonic Concerts and the 
 offence which Mr. Ella has contrived to give, that something, 
 with the means in our reach, betwixt a grand orchestral and 
 a chamber concert, might be given in the way of entertain- 
 ment — say a subscription of six — to which the public would 
 respond, and which might be made choicer than anything of 
 the kind in being. Pensez-y. I saw M. Meyerbeer in Paris, 
 who seemed to me more cowardly and cautious than ever, 
 and saw, I think, at a distance, M. Heller, looking very old 
 and white-haired and savage. What else I have seen and 
 heard is all written, and most of it printed, in the Athenceum. 
 Since I came back I have seen no one, save Benedict, 
 who looks very wretched, and says he has lost half his fortune 
 in these American failures, and Miss Gabriel. — I fancy Mrs. 
 Sartoris is in London for the winter, but I have hardly washed 
 myself clean or unpacked myself, or read my letters, and so I 
 have not yet asked at her door where she is. In fact, I merely 
 send this as a card to announce my return, and so with best 
 love to Mme. Halle (no offence to Mme. E.) and to the children, 
 believe me to be ever yours, Henry E. Chorley. 
 
 ix
 
 
 248 LETTERS 
 
 XXVI 
 
 FROM STErHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris : 2 Janvier 1854, 
 
 12 Rue Saint-Georges. 
 Mon Cher Halle, — . . . D'Ernst, je n'en sais rien sinon 
 que j'ai appris son projet de visiter l'Angleterre. II a donne 
 des concerts en Allemagne avec beaucoup de succes. Eckert 
 est nomme Maitre de Chapelle a l'opera de Vienne et il com- 
 mencera ses fonctions le l er avril. II est a Paris, ou il 
 donne quelques lecons de chant, entre autres a Mile Cruvelli . 
 F. devient toujours davantage ce qu'il a promis depuis long- 
 temps ; voila au moins un homme qui ne trompe pas les espe- 
 rances qu'il a fait concevoir a ses amis. II est morose, 
 ennuye, maladif et mecontent de tout le monde. Get en- 
 semble rejouissant est rachete par les resultats extraordi- 
 naires qu'il a obtenu, et obtient encore, de son commerce 
 intime avec les somnambules d'une lucidite garantie, et avec 
 des tables et des gueridons prophetiques et revelateurs. 
 Gouvy est en Allemagne, ou ses symphonies, me dit-on, ob- 
 tiennent beaucoup de succes. Bohn est un peu souffrant 
 toujours ; il travaille, mais en secret, et on ne sait pas ce 
 qu'il fait. C'est toujours un excellent garcon. . . . 
 
 Berlioz est revenu d' Allemagne, enchante des orchestres 
 et des publics allemands. II va y retourner au mois 
 d'avril. II n'a rien fait de nouveau. Voila mon sac a nou- 
 velles vide. J'ai eu l'honneur de voir ce matin M. X., qui 
 restera un mois a Paris ; il a meme laisse esperer un plus 
 long sejour parmi nous. Grace a son exterieur faible et 
 delicat il sait se donner un faux air de Chopin. La sante 
 peut lui manquer; le talent manque certainement. D'ailleurs 
 un pareil artiste se porte toujours trop bien. Ceci n'est pas 
 tn-s clin'tien, mais les vrais artistes sont un peu pai'ens ; il ne 
 serait pas malheureux s'ils etaient tout a fait ' Haydnisch,' l sans 
 porter prejudice a tous les Beethoven modernes qui pullulent 
 au dire de certains gens. 
 
 1 A play on the German word ' haidenisch,' heathen.
 
 FROM MR. J. ELLA, 1854 249 
 
 Je termine, et je te prie de dire mes amities cordiales a 
 Mrae Halle et de croire a l'amitio sincere de ton devoue 
 
 Stephen Heller. 1 
 
 XXVII 
 
 FROM MR. J. ELLA 
 
 London: November 3, 1854. 
 Dear Halle, — I am just home from a three months' ramble 
 in Switzerland and France. All the musical news there has 
 long ago reached you through the various channels — M. 
 World, Athenceum, &c. — I saw both Chorley and Davison at 
 Paris, and had a long discussion with them sejoarateli/. I was 
 one of the four temoins at the wedding of Berlioz, and I am 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris : January 2, 1854. 
 
 My dear Halle, — ... I know nothing about Ernst, except that I heard 
 of his project of visiting England. He gave concerts in Germany with 
 great success. Eckert is appointed conductor at the Opera at Vienna and 
 enters upon his functions on April 1. He is in Paris, where he gives sing- 
 ing lessons, to Mile. Cruvelli among others. F. is daily becoming more 
 like what he always promised to be ; here, at least, is a man who does not 
 betray the hopes he has led his friends to conceive. He is morose, dis- 
 appointed, sickly, and ill-pleased with all the world. This agreeable 
 ensemble is redeemed by the extraordinary results he has obtained, and 
 still obtains from his intimate commerce with somnambulists of guaranteed 
 lucidity, and with tables and standishes of the prophetic and revelatory 
 order. Gouvy is in Germany, where his symphonies, they tell me, meet with 
 great success. Bohn is still rather ailing ; he works, but in secret, and no 
 one knows what he is doing. He is always an excellent fellow. 
 
 Berlioz has come back from Germany, enchanted with German 
 orchestras and audiences. He is going to return thither in April. He 
 has done nothing new. Now I have emptied my newsbag. This morning 
 
 I had the honour of seeing M. X who will remain in Paris a month ; 
 
 he even held out hopes of a longer stay among us. Thanks to his feeble 
 and delicate appearance he manages to give himself a false air of Chopin. 
 He may be wanting in health— he is certainly wanting in talent. For 
 that matter, such an artist as he always enjoys too much health. This 
 may be somewhat un-Christian ; but all true artists are a trifle heathenish ; 
 it would be no misfortune if they were altogether ' Haydnisch,' without 
 prejudice to all the modern Beethovens that swarm around us, according 
 to some people. 
 
 Now I must make an end, and beg you to present my cordial regards 
 to Madame Halle and to believe in the sincere friendship of your devoted 
 
 Stephen Helleb.
 
 250 LETTERS 
 
 happy to say that he is in better spirits, with only one wife 
 to provide for. Ernst is enjoying a passive matrimonial 
 existence with a florid amount of maternal eloquence ad lib. 
 I am scarcely sufficiently settled to make any visits, and have 
 not yet been to the Prince of Waterloo's soirees — Jullien ; 
 you know that lie has purchased a chateau near Waterloo ? 
 I meant to call on Molique to inquire after your pupil, my 
 next (Mhdante. Arabella 1 is doing wonders on the Continent, 
 selon ses ami*. I dined last week with Massart, and was 
 charmed with his wife and her talent. 
 
 Remember me to your good lady and tell her I hope she 
 may live long enough to see me go to the quartet-conspiration 
 with her, as predicted. Alas ! the war will make us feel, 
 next year, its direful consequences. Send me the dates of 
 your concerts, and tell me if you seriously contemplate en- 
 gaging Yieuxtemps at one of them. I saw the L.'s in Paris, 
 en route from Switzerland. Odd enough, they and my party 
 were in Martigny — they going to and we coming from Cha- 
 mounix — on the same evening, and both parties heard a Prus- 
 sian officer (engineer) play Beethoven's ' Son. Pathetique,' 
 M.-ndelssohn's March, and the Sonata in A flat, con Marcia 
 funebre '. very well indeed ! I can never forget the impres- 
 sion ! Lovely, mild night, full, bright moon, sitting outside 
 the auberge after dinner, in a valley surrounded with peaks 
 of St. Bernard, &c, &c. 
 
 Heller was looking a little grey ; I saw La Clausen, she is 
 working, but not yet married. Her fiance I frequently met, 
 at Galignani's. The Guides band has created quite a furore. 
 Men ply them with beer and champagne ; the life they lead, 
 if recorded, would be a curiosity in ventures — chez les Anglais 
 et les Annlaises. If all fail, I will try a moustache and uni- 
 form, and enter the bonds of matrimony. Again, best 
 regards to Madame Halle and the children and believe me 
 yours faithfully, J. Ella. 
 
 So Anderson invited you to Osborne ! Better late than 
 never. 
 
 1 Miss Arabella Goddard.
 
 FROM RICHARD DOYLE, 1857 251 
 
 XXVIII 
 FROM RICHARD DOYLE 
 
 Stafford Club, Albemarle Street : 
 
 November 5, 1857. 
 
 My dear Halle,— Your not having turned up in this part 
 of the world makes me fear that the influenza may resemble 
 me in one respect, that of paying very long visits. I hope it 
 is not the case, and that Mrs. Halle and yourself have both 
 long since forgotten that there are colds in this life. Also I 
 should like very much to hear that your little Charley is 
 quite well. 
 
 Since I came to town I have been leading a very quiet 
 life, scarcely seeing any body or thing. London looks very 
 dark and ' muggy,' the weather being seasonable and Novem- 
 ber fogs the fashion. The public seems getting tired of 
 talking about India, and gladly clings hold of the ' big ship ' 
 for a change. When the news of the failure in the attempt 
 to launch her became known, it gave as painful a shock to 
 every one as did the first intelligence, two months ago, of 
 General Havelock's being obliged to retire on Cawnpore. 
 
 ' Tom Brown ' tells me, in a letter, that his sister, Mrs. 
 Senior, was to arrive last Monday in town. I have not yet 
 been to see if it is an 'accomplished fact.' I have seen 
 Watts, and after all he has not been, and does not go, to 
 Lord Lansdowne's. It appears that the scaffolding required 
 for his fresco would so interfere with the comfort of visitors, 
 who are now at Bowood, that the Marquis has written to 
 propose that he should put off going to work till spring. 
 And this after Watts, with much pain to himself, had given 
 up the Art Treasures, and your kind invitation, solely on the 
 ground that the preparations for the fresco in London would 
 require all his time. Such is, &c. 
 
 I hope Mr. Fairbairn is very well, and that the executive 
 committee are as well as can be expected under the circum- 
 stances. Have many of the pictures gone home? Is the 
 exhibition building so changed that its best friend would not
 
 252 LETTERS 
 
 know it again ? Does the pike man cry ' two pence ' with 
 the same cheerful tone as before, or is his voice dashed with 
 melancholy at the thought of the ' days that are no more ' ? 
 Is my favourite lamp-post as firm and steady in the legs, and 
 as light-headed as of yore ? 
 
 The Duke of Devonshire, by the way, was rather annoyed 
 at not getting his pictures sent back at once, as he wanted 
 them hung in their places while the party was at Clumber, 
 and I see a letter in the Daily News to-day complaining of 
 the writer's pictures not being returned to him. 
 
 Please tell Mrs. Halle that the reading of her letter was 
 the pleasantest French lesson I have had for a very long 
 time. Ever sincerely yours, R. Doyle. 
 
 p.S. — This being Guy Faux Day the streets are full of 
 guys, but instead of Cardinal Wiseman being, as usual, the 
 popular representative of the character a sepoy seems ' the 
 thing.' Here is one I have just seen in Bond Street. 
 
 Nov. 7 (another P.S.). — I forgot to post this on Thursday, 
 and have had it in my pocket for two days. For the next 
 few days my address will be Strawberry Hill, Twickenham, 
 Surrey. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 TO HIS MOTHER 
 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Greenheys, Manchester: 
 October 22, 1858. 
 
 My dear Mother, — It seems incredible, but it is none the 
 less true, that only the desire of writing fully and at great 
 length, to tell you how happy I was during my stay with you, 
 and with what pleasure I think of the too short time spent 
 with yon, has been the very cause of my not writing at all. 
 It seemed to me quite impossible only to send you a few 
 lines, and so I fell into the old habit of procrastination, and 
 days, weeks, even a month, have flown by so quickly that I 
 can only think of them with amazement. Regret in such
 
 TO HIS MOTHER, MANCHESTER, 1858 253 
 
 cases always comes too late, but be assured, and you will 
 readily believe me, that only stress of work in making up for 
 lost time and preparing for the coming season has kept me 
 silent so long, and certainly no lack of good-will, nor of love 
 and gratitude for the happy hours you made me enjoy. 
 
 No, never did a visit to you do me more good than this 
 last one ; from the first to the last hour it was beautiful : I 
 really revelled in the remembrances of my happy childhood, 
 and I am now almost glad that a month has passed since my 
 visit, and brings us so much the nearer to the next one, 
 which I can only wish may resemble it in gemiitJdichen, homely, 
 and peaceful joy. 
 
 I found all my family in the best condition on my return, 
 strengthened and invigorated by sea-bathing ; the little ones 
 had much to tell of donkey rides and other pleasures, and 
 they amuse us often with their very comical recollections. 
 They have now got used to their Manchester life again, and 
 are all working hard at their lessons. In what concerns my 
 own business, I found the time I had allowed myself for pre- 
 paration for my first concert, which took place on September 1 5, 
 all too short ; my whole orchestra had to be re- organised, and 
 I have really had not a minute's rest. Besides this, the new 
 choral society, of which I had laid the foundations before my 
 departure, had to be brought to completion, and in this I 
 have got so far that its first concert, Haydn's ' Creation,' takes 
 place this very day, with the unheard of number of 1,600 
 subscribers, and an orchestra and chorus of 300. I have just 
 come home from the very satisfactory final rehearsal, and am 
 full of expectation for this evening. My chamber music con- 
 certs will recommence on November 25, the St. Cecilia in a 
 fortnight, und so geht der alte Trodel ivieder los. 
 
 But now as to the surprising and saddening news of 
 Cornelius' ' illness, how truly it went to my heart you, and he 
 especially, will easily understand ; I cling unspeakably to the 
 good old honest friend ; his strong constitution makes me hope 
 that he has already overcome the disease, whatever it may be, 
 1 Cornelius Fliiss, the greatest friend of bis childhood.
 
 254 LETTERS 
 
 and I hope to God that I do not deceive myself. Give me 
 farther news of him soon, as I cannot overcome a certain feel- 
 in lt of uneasiness ; greet him most heartily from me, and 
 exhort him, in my name, in future not to trust too much to 
 the strength o( his constitution, but, like weaker mortals, to 
 take a little care of himself. 
 
 Another thing I am anxiously awaiting tidings of is your 
 threatened removal; I hope such an annoyance is not really 
 before yon — for the dear home has become so cosy — but 
 should it come to that we shall have to take counsel together, 
 and after all, one's well-being does not depend upon one's 
 walls. 
 
 The hour of the concert will soon strike, and I have still 
 much to do, so I finish for to-day, with my love to you and 
 Anna, and greetings to Uncle Koch and his wife and children, 
 to dear Aunt Altgelt, to Cornelius and his wife, to Baldewein, 
 to Gustav Butz, Friedrich Wolff — in short, to all who 
 remember me with affection, and of whom I think so often. 
 "Write to me soon and much. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 Carl. 
 
 Of course, best love from all here. The enclosed 101. 
 note will soon be followed by another. 
 
 [The Aunt Altgelt mentioned in the foregoing letter was my 
 grandmother's eldest sister. Married at the age of sixteen, 
 after two short years of happiness she was left a widow at 
 eighteen, and from that date, refusing all offers of marriage, she 
 devoted herself to her young husband's memory and to the care 
 of her child. This little girl, Minna Altgelt, after some childish 
 illness at four years of age, which was mismanaged by the local 
 doctor, fell into confirmed ill-health, and became almost totally 
 paralysed, and her life, until the age of thirty-six, when death 
 mercifully put a term to her sufferings, was a continued martyr- 
 dom to herself and to the poor mother, whose own life was 
 absorbed in daily, anxious care and solicitude for her stricken 
 child. 
 
 Minna Altgelt was, perhaps, the most gifted member of a 
 1 family, and the more crippled and helpless her mortal
 
 TO HIS MOTHER, MANCHESTER, 1858 255 
 
 frame became, so much the brighter did the flame of her intellect 
 appear to shine. Unable to raise her hands more than a few 
 inches from her lap, she yet taught herself to use them in a 
 remarkable manner, and her delicate embroideries were the 
 admiration of all who saw them, although she could only slowly 
 draw the silken thread through the fabric in lengths of two or 
 three inches at a time. 
 
 Passionately fond of music, she often had herself carried to 
 the homely 'Concordia' concerts, the chief musical society of 
 the little town. These concerts were frequently followed by an 
 assembly ball, and when Minna Altgelt felt well enough she 
 would sometimes remain after the concert to watch the dancing 
 for an hour ; on these occasions the young men would crowd 
 around her couch, so brilliant, so full of wit and charm was 
 her conversation. 
 
 Not the least interesting feature of her individuality was her 
 reputed and firmly- credited gift of second sight, several curious 
 instances of which have survived at Hagen up to the present day. 
 So firmly did her family and friends believe in this attribute of 
 hers that during my father's first long absence from home, when- 
 ever my grandmother had been left an unduly long time without 
 news of him, she would refrain from going to see Minna, fearing 
 she might have, through her mysterious gift, some ill -tidings to 
 impart. Minna would then send her a message, ' Tell Aunt 
 Caroline she need not be afraid to come and see me — I have seen 
 nothing, all is well at Paris.' 
 
 As will readily be believed, the poor invalid's room, filled 
 with plants and flowers, and made gay with the song of birds and 
 by every contrivance the ingenuity of love could invent, was the 
 centre round which the whole family life revolved. She was the 
 confidante, the receptacle for the troubles, the joys, the love- 
 aflairs, and the secrets of half the parish. 
 
 On my father's second return to Hagen from Paris it was to 
 her he confided the secret of his engagement to my mother, some 
 time before he divulged it to his parents, and entrusted to her 
 safe-keeping a beautiful miniature, by David, of his betrothed. 
 This portrait Minna hid in the recesses of her work-table, a per- 
 fect labyrinth of drawers and shelves, specially constructed for 
 her crippled state, which always stood beside her sofa. It was 
 a subject of perplexity to all the other young members of the family 
 why my father, during the whole period of his stay at Hagen, 
 never left Minna's presence on his daily visits to her, without
 
 256 LETTERS 
 
 making a profound bow to her work-table ; and no one, they say, 
 w ho had once seen it, could ever forget the exquisite smile with 
 which Minna Altgelt watched her young kinsman's chivalrous act 
 of homage to the concealed image of his future wife. In 1844 
 Minna Altgelt died, and her mother survived her for more than 
 thirty years.] 
 
 XXX 
 
 TO HIS "WIFE 
 
 Londres : 3 mai 1859. 
 Hier j'ai d'abord repete avec Wieniawsky, ensuite j'ai 
 assiste chez Joachim a la repetition des quatuors de Beet- 
 hoven qu'il jouera mercredi ; c'etait magnifique, j'ai rarement 
 eu un plus grand plaisir. Cela m'avait donne une rage de 
 tnivailler telle que j'ai joue depuis mon diner jusqu'a une 
 heure du matin, et voudrais pouvoir recommencer aujourd'hui. 1 
 
 XXXI 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Glasgow : 1" fevrier 1860. 
 II y avait beaucoup de monde hier, dans une salle char- 
 mante que je ne connaissais pas encore. . . . tout a bien 
 marche. Le concert a fini avec la sonate dediee a Kreutzer, 
 apres laquelle on nous a jete — un bouquet, que tous deux 
 nous avons regarde avec pas mal d'etonnement. Vieuxtemps 
 ne bougeant pas, je l'ai ramasse pour le lui offrir devant 
 le public, mais il ne voulait pas l'accepter ; alors je suis alle 
 bravement dans la chambre des artistes et je l'ai donne a — 
 Madame Vieuxtemps. 2 
 
 i [ Translation] 
 
 London : May 3, 1859. 
 
 Yesterday I first rehearsed with Wieniawsky ; then, at Joachim's, I 
 assisted at the rehearsal of the Beethoven quartets that he is to play on 
 Wednesday; it was magnificent, I have rarely hada greater treat. It gave 
 me such a rage for work that I practised from dinner-time until one 
 o'clock in the morning, and wish I could begin again to-day. 
 
 2 [Translation] 
 
 Glasgow: February 1, 1860. 
 
 There were a great many people yesterday, in a charming room that I 
 had not seen before . . . everything went well. The concert ended with
 
 TO HIS WIFE, LONDON, 1860 257 
 
 XXXII 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Lundi. 
 Que deux mots aujourd'hui : j'ai trois lecons a dormer, une 
 autre repetition pour ce soir, et il faut que je travaille encore 
 cette fichue musique anglaise qui ne vaut pas le diable et 
 cependant est d'un difficile incroyable. C'est vraiment une 
 pitie de se donner tant de mal pour des choses qui n'en valent 
 certes pas la peine ; mais comment refuser de jouer a un 
 concert anglais a Londres ? J'aurais ete ecartele au moins dans 
 le' Times' . . . J'arriverai mercredi dans l'apres-midi et j'ai 
 demande a D. de changer la repetition du vendredi au jeudi, 
 car j'aurai probablement a repartir jeudi soir. 1 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Baden-Baden, 17 aout 1860, 
 
 Hotel de Hollande. 
 Je suis depuis hier a Baden ; le temps etait magnifique hier 
 quand je suis parti de Heidelberg, ce qui m'a decide, et j'ai 
 rencontre ici Berlioz, Richard Wagner, Danton, Sivori, Wolff, 
 Cossmann, Piatti, et plusieurs autres vieilles connaissances. 
 Avec Berlioz j'ai passe presque toute la journee d'hier : nous 
 avons parcouru toute la partition d' ' Armide,' et, de souvenir, 
 
 the Kreutzer sonata, after which we were thrown a bouquet, which we 
 both looked at with no little astonishment. As Vieuxtemps did not budge, 
 I picked it up and offered it to him before the public, but he would not 
 accept it ; then I went bravely into the artists' room, and I gave it to 
 — Madame Vieuxtemps. 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Monday. 
 
 Only two words to-day ; I have three lessons to give, another rehearsal 
 this evening, and I must work again at that wretched English music that 
 is not worth a rap, and yet, is incredibly difficult. It is really a pity to 
 
 give oneself so much trouble about things that certainly are not worth it 
 
 but how can one refuse to play at an English concert in London ? I should 
 have been drawn and quartered, at the least, by the Times ... I shall 
 arrive on Wednesday afternoon, and I have asked D. to change the 
 rehearsal from Friday to Thursday, as I shall probably have to leave again 
 on Thursday evening. 
 
 S
 
 258 LETTERS 
 
 toute celle d' ' Iphigenie,' et j'ai appris bien des choses que je 
 ne connaissaifl pas et qu'il Bait de tradition ; il m'a montre 
 des eft'ets que je n'aurais pas pu trouver seul, je suis done 
 bien contenl de l'avoir vu. Je t'ecris dans ce moment chez 
 P., que j'ai rencontre" ce matin. . . . Nous venons d'avoir une 
 lono-ue conversation au sujet du theatre a Manchester; il est 
 plus que jamais persuade de la possibilite de la chose, et 
 croit que ce serait une bonne chose pour Manchester et pour 
 moi. 1 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Paris : 19 aout '60, 
 
 Hotel du Louvre. 
 ... A Baden j'ai encore rencontre Mme Miolan et son 
 mari, et Wieniawski avec sa femme ; j'ai de plus assiste a 
 une repetition d'un grand concert, que Berlioz a dirige et 
 ou il a repete une grande partie de ' l'Orphee,' ce'qui m'a 
 bien vivement interesse ; j'y ai encore appris bien des effets 
 que je ne connaissais pas : ce pauvre Berlioz du reste m'a 
 fait une peine enorme ; jamais je n'ai vu un homme change 
 comme lui, et a moins d'un miracle il sera certainement dans 
 la tombe avant un an d'ici. II le sait lui-meme, et il en 
 parle avec une tristesse qui navre le cceur. II etait si con- 
 tent de me voir et de pouvoir parler musique a cceur ouvert ; 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Baden-Baden, August 17, 1860, 
 
 Hotel de Hollande. 
 
 I have been at Baden since yesterday ; the weather was magnificent 
 
 when I left Heidelberg, which helped me to decide, and I have met here 
 
 Berlioz, Richard Wagner, Danton, Sivori, Wolff, Cossmann, Piatti, and 
 
 several other old acquaintances. I spent nearly the whole day yesterday 
 
 with Berlioz; we went through the score 'of ' Armida,' and, from memory, 
 
 the whole of ' Iphigenia,' and I learned many things that I was ignorant 
 
 of and which he knows by tradition. He showed me effects that I should 
 
 never have discovered by myself. I am therefore very pleased to have 
 
 him. I ana writing in P.'s room, whom I met this morning . . . We 
 
 just had a long talk about, the Manchester Theatre ; he is more than 
 
 need of the possibility of the scheme, and thinks it would be a 
 
 good thing for Manchester and for me.
 
 
 TO HIS WIFE, L861 259 
 
 il ra'a dit que de longtemps il ne s'etait senti aussi bien que 
 pendant ces deux jours. . . . 
 
 Je vais aller a la d6couverte de Heller maintenant, 
 j'espere qu'il est a Paris; ce soir je compte aller entendre 
 1 Fra Diavolo ' a l'Opera I 'omique, a moina que Heller propose 
 autre chose. 1 
 
 XXXV 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Royal Hotel, Princes Street, Edimbourg: 
 
 dimanche ('61 ?) 
 
 Le concert d'hier a ete un grand succcs et j'aurai 00/. 
 pour ma part, ce qui vaut la peine ; il y avait un public 
 vraiment admirable et toute l'aristocratie de 40 milles 
 dans la ronde y etait. La duchesse etait bien fuchee de ce 
 que je ne puis aller a Dalkeith, maia elle espere qu'une autre 
 fois je pourrai m'arranger de maniere a y passer une 
 semaine. 
 
 Les X. avaient invite une vingtaine de personnes pi iur 
 la soiree, de sorte que j'ai du jouer un peu malgre ma 
 fatigue et avaler une douzaine de ballades ecossaises. II y 
 
 avait une Mrs. qui m'a fait passer le plus terrible 
 
 quart d'heure dont je me souvienne de longtemps ; figures- 
 toi une assez vieille femme, fort extraordinaire dans sa mise, 
 avec une voix de basse comme celle de Formes, qui se tient 
 
 i [Translation] 
 
 Paris: August 19, 1860. 
 
 Hotel du Louvre. 
 
 ... I also met at Baden Mrae. Miolan and her husband, and 
 Wieniawski with his wife; moreover, I assisted at the rehearsal of a 
 grand concert, which Berlioz conducted, where he rehearsed a gre;r 
 of 'Orpheus,' which interested me keenly; I again learned many effects 
 that I did not know before. Poor Berlioz, however, gave me the greatest 
 pain ; I never saw a man so changed, and, but for a miracle, he will surely 
 be in his grave before this time next year. He knows it himself . and 
 speaks of it with a sadness that pierces one's heart. He was so pleased to 
 see me and to be able to open his heart in talking of music; he told me 
 he had not felt so well for a long time as during those two days. . . . 
 
 I am now going to hunt for Heller, I hope he is in Paris ; this evening 
 I intend to go and hear ' Fra Diavolo ' at the Opera Comique, unless Heller 
 has something else to propose. 
 
 s2
 
 2 GO LETTERS 
 
 debout, seule, an milieu du salon et, sans ancun accompagne- 
 ment, clumte. but des melodies improvisees avec toute espece 
 de vieux trilles et hoquets, quelques-uns des poemes de son 
 i'niv. et pas des plus courts. II m'a pris une telle peur 
 dWlater tie rire que vraiment j'en etais presque malade. 1 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris: 5 dec. 1861. 
 Mon cher Halle, — Ta lettre m'a fait un tres grand plaisir : 
 je devrais dire, une joie. D'abord j'obtiendrai ce que j'ai 
 (1 -ire, et puis e'est a ton amitie et a tes demarches que je 
 dois cette realisation. Merci, cher ami, bien sincerement 
 d'avoir use de ta position et de ton influence en faveur de ton 
 vieux camarade. Ce que tu me dis de la solidarite de la 
 maison Chappell me tranquillise. . . . Tu me connais assez 
 pour savoir que je ne suis pas homme a regarder au gain. 
 Xt'anmoins je dois te dire, que ce n'est pas pour moi que je 
 desire gagner un peu de ce vil metal si necessaire. Depuis 
 plusieurs annees je suis aussi oblige de soutenir plusieurs 
 membres de ma famille, qui out tout perdu. Mais, avec mes 
 compositions, surtout si jeparviens a etre un peu mieux retri- 
 bui' (comme e'est deja le cas en Angleterre, grace a toi) a 
 
 1 [Translation"] 
 
 Royal Hotel, Princes Street, Edinburgh: 
 
 Sunday ('Gl ?). 
 Yesterday's concert was a great success, and I shall have 60Z for my 
 si are, which makes it worth while ; the public was truly admirable, and 
 all the aristocracy for forty miles around was there. The duchess was 
 very sorry that I could not go to Dalkeith, but she hopes that another 
 time I can arrange to spend a week there. 
 
 The X.'s had invited about a score of people for the evening, so that I 
 had to play a little, in spite of my fatigue, and to swallow a dozen Scotch 
 
 ballads. There was a Mrs. , who made me spend one of the most 
 
 t'-rrilile quarters of an hour that I can remember for a long time ; imagine 
 Idiflh woman, very extraordinary in attire, with a bass voice like that 
 noes, who stands up. alone, in the middle of the room and, without 
 any accompaniment, sings to improvised melodies with all sorts of old- 
 fashioned Bhakee and hiccoughs, several of her brother's poems, and by no 
 tbe Bbortest of them. I was seized with such a fear of bursting 
 into laughter that it nearly made me ill.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, L86] 201 
 
 Paris, et a avoir quelques eleves bien payans, je pourrais ra'en 
 tirer. Je ne suis arrive a un bon resultat qu'en Allemagne, 
 ou les editeurs de tous les pays desirent avoir de mes ouvrages. 
 Si j'avais ici un artiste de ta force, j'y serais arrive egalement. 
 Maisc'est toujours l'ancienne histoire. Je compte 3 cate- 
 gories de musiciens et amateurs, sous ce rapport: la 1"' me 
 joue bien ; e'est une categorie peu nombreuse ; la 2" de me 
 joue mal ; elle est bien plus nombreuse ; la 3 me ne me joue 
 pas du tout ; celle-ci est de bien loin la plus nombreuse. Oui, 
 il y en a qui jouent bien quelques-uns de mes morceaux ; 
 quelques professeurs, quelques petites filles, qui jouent sur- 
 tout tres vite ; quelques amateurs, qui aiment Chopin, 
 Schumann, Mendelssohn, qui me font l'honneur de me 
 laisser suivre ces maitres. Mais tout cela n'est pas anime, 
 ni assez simple, ni assez riche, ou simple ou il faudrait etre 
 riche et riche ou il faudrait etre simple ; sentimental ou il 
 faut etre chaud et affectueux ; puissant au lieu d'etre aimable ; 
 pesant aux endroits legers, et vice versd. Tu es reste mon 
 ideal de pianiste, parce que tu n'exageres rien. C'est la qu'on 
 reconnait les maitres dans tous les arts. Tu ne seras jamais 
 emphatique (chose horrible dans toutes les manifestations de 
 Tart), boursoufle, larmoyant, affecte ; car tu ne veux ni faire 
 pleurer les roches, ni dompter les animaux feroces, ni soulever 
 les montagnes ; tu as le sentiment vrai, voila tout dire. Moi, 
 je reunis tout en ceci. Les grands ecrivains, les grands 
 peintres ont eu le sentiment vrai, ni plus ni moins. L'artiste 
 qui va au-dela, comme celui qui reste en deca manque egale- 
 ment son but. J'ai en horreur les pianistes modernes tout en 
 reconnaissant leurs grandes qualites. Mais ces qualites, a quoi 
 reviennent-elles ? En verite je ne les ai pas entendu jouer la 
 plus facile des sonates de Beethoven de maniere a me con- 
 tenter, de maniere a me donner l'idee de l'auteur. Le grand 
 Rubinstein a joue chez moi plusieurs ' Waldstiicke ' (en mi 
 entre autres). Quel style ! quelles exagerations des endroits 
 moins saillants, et quelle negligence dans les passages plus 
 importants ! On sentait l'ennui de ses doigts agiles et puissants 
 qui n'avaient rien a mettre sous les dents, a peu pres comme
 
 262 LETTERS 
 
 lorsqu'on donne & l'ek'phant du cirque une simple saladiere & 
 engloutir. II a joue a Saint-Petersbourg ma Tarantelle en la 
 enjoliv§e de traits d'octaves, de trilles, etc. etc. Si 
 - L'osaient, ils en ieraient de meme avec Beethoven. 
 
 S. Heller. 1 
 
 i [Tran»lation\ 
 
 Paris : December 5, 1861. 
 My dear Hallfi,— -Your letter gave me very great pleasure— I might say, 
 joy. First of all I shall obtain what I desired, and then it is to your 
 .hip and to your exertions that I shall owe this realisation of my 
 -. I thank you, clear friend, very sincerely for having made use of 
 your i sition and of your influence in favour of your old comrade. What 
 .1 me of the solidity of the house of Chappell tranquillises me. . . . You 
 . me well enough to be assured that I am not a man who looks for gain. 
 Neve: i • ss, 1 uiight to tell you that it is Dot for myself that I desire to 
 . little of that vile metal that is so necessary. For several years I 
 have had to support several members of my family who had lost their all. 
 But, with my compositions, especially if I succeed in getting better remu- 
 neration in Paris (as, thanks to you, is already the case in England), and 
 with some pupils who would pay me vvell,I could manage. I have obtained 
 I result only in Germany, where the publishers of all parts wish to 
 my works. If I had an artist of your quality here I should have done 
 i qually well. But it is always the same old story. I divide artists and 
 amateurs into three categories on this head. The first play my things 
 well— this is but a small category ; the second play them badly and are 
 far more numerous; the third do not play them at all, and are the most 
 of all. Yes, there are a few who play some of my pieces well. 
 .. professors, a few little girls, who play very fast above all things, and 
 v amateurs, who like Chopin, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and who do 
 me the honour to let me follow these masters. But all these are not very 
 animated, nor simple enough, nor ornate enough, or they are simple where 
 ■ >u^ht to be ornate, and ornate where they ought to be simple ; senti- 
 mental where they should be warm and tender; powerful instead of amiable, 
 y in light passages, and vice versa. You have remained my ideal of 
 . for y<>u never exaggerate. That is where one recognises the 
 r in every art. You are never emphatic (a horrid thing in any 
 manifestation of art), bombastic, whimpering, affected; for you neither 
 wish to make rocks weep, nor to tame wild beasts, nor to move mountains ; 
 you have true sentiment, and that is everything. I sum up everything in 
 that. The great writers, the great painters had true sentiment, nothing 
 I nothing less. The artist who goes beyond, and he who stops short 
 f it bave equally missed their aim. I hold modern pianists in horror 
 ising 1 heir great qualities. But these qualities, what do they 
 amoui t to ? Of a truth, I have not heard them play the easiest of Beet- 
 in a manner to content me, to give me the composer's 
 great Rubinstein played several ' Waldstiicke ' at my 
 house (the one in E among others). "What a style 1 What exaggeration of
 
 TO A MANCHESTER PAPER, 1862 263 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 [Letter to a Manchester Paper] 
 
 February 13, 1862. 
 The remarks of your musical critic on yesterday's concert 
 must lead your readers to believe that the introduction of 
 ' Cadenzas ' into Mozart's concertos is optional with the per- 
 former. I feel sure you will allow me to remove such an 
 impression, and to inform the writer of the paragraph as well 
 as your readers that in all concertos by Mozart, in five out of 
 the six written by Beethoven, and in almost every other 
 instance (Mendelssohn excepted), 'Cadenzas,' the place for 
 which is distinctly marked and prepared for in a peculiar 
 manner known to all musicians, cannot be dispensed with 
 without destroying the symmetry of the work, or involving 
 its mutilation. It is hardly necessary to explain that the 
 object of these ' Cadenzas ' is to recapitulate the principal 
 ideas contained in the movement, at the conclusion of which 
 they are introduced ; to condense them, present them in a 
 new form, and, in short, to give a resume of the whole work. 
 That this has perhaps in no instance on record been done in 
 a more masterly manner than by Mr. Stephen Heller yester- 
 day, all musicians at the concert will readily acknowledge. 
 
 Far from being an ' intrusion,' or a violation of ' the 
 principle which demands respect for the creations of genius, 
 the composition of ' Cadenzas ' is therefore in strict accordance 
 with the intentions of our greatest composers, and has 
 always been regarded as one of the severest tests of the 
 musician's faculties. 
 
 Thanking you for the space you have kindly allowed me, 
 I remain, yours very obediently, Charles Halle. 
 
 the less salient parts, and what negligence in the more important 
 passages ! One felt the boredom of those agile and powerful fingers that 
 had nothing put into them, as when they give the circus elephant an 
 empty salad-bowl to swallow. He played my Tarantelle in A flat at St. 
 Petersburg, ornamented with octave passages, shakes, kc, Sec. If such 
 people only dared they would do the same to Beethoven. 
 
 STErHEX Helleb.
 
 26-4 LETTERS 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 TO HIS WIFE 
 
 6 Arlington Street, London : 
 
 dimanche, 13 avril '62. 
 
 Jamais le voyage de Manchester a Londres ne m'a 
 semble plus court qu'hier ; Heller et Joachim etaient gais 
 comme des pinsons et nous nous sommes bien amuses. En 
 arrivant j'ai installe Heller dans ses appartements, qui lui 
 plaisent ; ensuite j'ai donne deux lecons, j'ai retrouve Heller 
 et Joachim a diner au Wellington, et le soir j'ai eu ma soiree 
 j tayante chez Mr. Cook, ou j'ai joue quatre sonates de Beethoven 
 pour dix personnes, de sorte que je suis rentre assez 
 fatigue. . . . 
 
 Heller vient d'arriver et desire ecrire quelques mots sur 
 la 4 me page ; je finis done. . . . Ton Charles. 
 
 Chere Madame, — Carl me laisse cette page, pour vous 
 ecrire un mot. Je voudrais vous remercier encore de toutes 
 les amities dont vous m'avez entoure pendant mon sejour a 
 Manchester. Des mots, je n'en veux pas dire, mais vous 
 savez que je sens vivement, et que je n'ai jamais connu de 
 plus vive joie que de pouvoir etre reconnaissant et affectueux. 
 Je vous ai voue ces sentiments-la, et je les garderai toujours. 
 Vous savez deja que nous sommes arrives sains et saufs. 
 Maintenant j'attendrai mon sort dans cette belle et affreuse 
 ville. 
 
 Je voudrais deja vous y voir, pour la trouver plus habi- 
 table. Je vous prie de dire mes amities a Mile M., L., a 0. 
 et a toute cette charmante marmaille dont vous etes l'excel- 
 lente et digne gardienne. Que Dieu vous garde, e'est mon 
 vceu le plus sincere. Votre devoue 
 
 Stephen Heller. 1 
 
 1 [Translation"] 
 
 6 Arlington Street, London : 
 
 Sunday, April 13, 1862. 
 . . . The journey from Manchester to London never seemed shorter to 
 me than it did yesterday. Heller and Joachim were as merry as larks, 
 and we amused ourselves greatly. On arriving, I established Heller in his
 
 TO HIS WIFE, 1862 2G5 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 6 Arlington Street : 
 
 21 avril '62. 
 
 Je coniprends tes inquietudes sur la Nouvelle-Orleans, 
 mais il ne faut pas les exagSrer ; le Nord u'y est pas encore; 
 et comme la ville meme ne saurait guere se defendre, n'etant 
 pas fortifiee, il n'y aura certes pas d'exces, ce sera une simple 
 occupation ; de plus il n'estpas probable que ceux qui peuvent 
 s'en aller resteront a attendre les evenements. Broadwood 
 est en Ecosse jusqu'a samedi, de sorte qu'il ne peut pas me 
 donner des nouvelles. . . . 
 
 Nous avons passe une charmante soiree cbez les Sartoris 
 avec Millais et Browning; Heller a beaucoup joue et tres 
 bien. . . .' 
 
 rooms, which please him ; then I gave two lessons, and rejoined Heller and 
 Joachim at the Wellington for dinner. In the evening I had a paid private 
 concert at Mr. Cook's, where I played four of Beethoven's sonatas to ten 
 people, so that I came home rather tired. . . . 
 
 Heller has just come in and desires to write a few words on the fourth 
 page ; so I must end. . . . 
 
 Your Charles. 
 
 Dear Madame, — Carl leaves me this page to write you a word. I 
 should like to thank you again for all the marks of friendship you bestowed 
 on me during my stay in Manchester. I am not a man of many words, 
 but you know that I feel keenly, and that I have never known a greater 
 joy than that of being grateful and affectionate. Those feelings I have 
 consecrated to you, and they shall be yours always. You already know 
 that we arrived safe and sound. Now I shall await my fate in this beauti- 
 ful and frightful town. 
 
 I wish you were already here, to make it a little more habitable. I beg 
 you to give my compliments to Miss M., to L., C, and to all that charming 
 brood of which you are the excellent and worthy guardian. That God 
 may have you in His keeping is my sincerest wish. 
 
 Your devoted STEPHEN HELLER. 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 6 Arlington Street : 
 
 April 21, '62. 
 
 I understand your anxiety with respect to New Orleans, but you must 
 
 not exaggerate it ; the North has not arrived there yet, and as the town 
 
 could hardly defend itself, not being fortified, there would certainly be no 
 
 excesses, it would be a simple occupation ; moreover, it is not probable
 
 2GG LETTERS 
 
 XL 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 6 Arlington Street : 
 
 27 avril 1862. 
 
 Ne manques pas de me dire par quel train vous allez 
 arriver, et si c'est decidement jeudi ou vendredi, car pour 
 venir te chercher il faudra peut-etre que je change quelques 
 lecons, ce dont il me faut naturellement prevenir mes eleves 
 La veille. Cependant je n'en ai presque pas jeudi, a cause de 
 ['exposition ; je suis un peu tente moi-meme d'acheter un 
 billet de trois guinees pour pouvoir y aller ; je pourrais tout 
 de meme etre au cliemin de fer a temps ; je voudrais voir 
 aussi ce qu'on fera pour Costa ; il a tenu bon et ne conduit 
 pas la musique de Bennett qui est devolue a Sainton, qui a 
 consenti de la diriger ; cela commence a faire un brouhaha 
 t'pouvantable, le ' Daily Telegraph' a eu un 'leading article ' 
 contre Costa d'une violence extreme, disant qu'il est temps de 
 lui prouver que l'Angleterre peut se passer de lui; le 'Daily 
 News ' en a fait de meme, mais moins ru dement, et il n'y a 
 pas de doute que les autres journaux ne l'epargneront guere ; 
 reste a savoir comment le public se comportera. Meyerbeer 
 est arrive, mais je ne l'ai pas vu encore. 
 
 Heller et moi nous jouerons le concerto de Mozart au 
 ( Irystal Palace samedi prochain, on nousoffre les memes ' terms' 
 que la Societe de Londres ; Heller est enchante, d'autant plus 
 qu'il a vendu hier une nouvelle edition de ses etudes pour 20 
 livres, sur lesquelles il ne pouvait guere compter ; il se sent 
 done en fonds, et regarde Londres d'un tout autre ceil. Pour 
 moi, cela me fera quatre concerts dans la semaine. . . . 
 
 Chorley veut reellement donner un ' fancy ball ' le mardi de 
 la semaine du Handel Festival, et j'ai du lui promettre de vous 
 en prevenir des le lendemain, ce que j'ai fait. Je crois qu'il 
 
 that those who can get away will stay there to await events. Broadwood 
 "Gotland until Saturday, so he can give me no news. 
 We spent a charming evening at the Sartoris's with Millais and 
 Browning ; Heller played a great deal and very well
 
 TO HIS WIFE, 1862 2G7 
 
 est fou, car figures-toi unbal dans ses appart&ments* et si on 
 ne danse pas, figures-toi nous tous assis tranquillement a cote 
 les uns des autres dans toutes sortes de costumes ; je lui ai 
 dit que j'irais en ' Christy minstrel ' — Chorley lui-meme sera 
 en Apollon, naturellement. 
 
 J'ai reyu hier an soir une invitation des Prinsep a diner 
 aujourd'kiai ; je crois que cette fois je dois y aller, a cause de 
 Charlie et de Watts ; le temps est superbe, et le jardin sera 
 agreable sans doute. Je dois d'abord faire toute espdce de 
 repetitions surtout avec Heller chez Broadwood ; il a fait un 
 nouveau point d'orgue pour le concerto de Mozart, que nous 
 n'avons pas encore essaye, et nous avons demain la repetition 
 avec l'orchestre. 2 
 
 1 Chorley's house, 13 Eaton Place, West, was exceedingly small. 
 
 - [Translation] 
 
 April 27, 1862. 
 
 Do not forget to tell me by what train you will arrive, and if you have 
 decided upon Thursday or Friday, as in order to meet you at the station I 
 may perhaps have to change some lessons, of which I must warn my pupils 
 the day before. I have hardly any, however, for Thursday, on account of 
 the Exhibition; I am rather tempted to buy a 3 guinea ticket myself 
 to be able to go there ; I could anyhow be at the station in time. I should 
 also like to see what will happen to Costa ; he has held his ground, and 
 will not conduct Bennett's music, which has devolved upon Sainton, who 
 has consented to conduct it. This is beginning to cause a tremendous 
 uproar; the Daily Telegraph had a leading article of extreme violence 
 against Costa, saying that it was time to show him that England could do 
 without him ; the Daily Nervs took the same line, though less roughly, 
 and there is no doubt that the other papers will not spare him ; it remains 
 to be seen what attitude the public will take up. Meyerbeer has arrived, 
 but I have not yet seen him. 
 
 Heller and I are to play the concerto by Mozart at the Crystal Palace 
 next Saturday ; they offer us the same terms as the London Society. 
 Heller is enchanted, all the more so that he sold a new edition of his 
 4 Studies ' yesterday for 201., which he had hardly expected ; he feels him- 
 self in funds, and looks upon London with quite another eye. As to me, 
 thai will make four concerts in the week 
 
 Chorley really means to give a fancy ball on the Tuesday of the 
 Handel Festival week, and I had to promise to let you know at once, 
 which I have done. I think he is mad, for just imagine a ball in his 
 rooms, and if there is no dancing, imagine us all quietly seated side by 
 side in all sorts of different costumes ; I told him I should go as a ' Christy 
 Minstrel ' — Chorley himself will appear as Apollo, naturally. I received an 
 invitation last evening from the Prinseps to dine with them to-day; I
 
 268 LETTERS 
 
 XLI 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 6 Arlington Street : 29 avril '62. 
 
 .1'ai emmene Heller chez les Prinsep hier; iln'yavait per- 
 sonne que Doyle, et aucune dame que Mrs. Prinsep ; la maison 
 mdme n'est pas encore arrangee. Le temps etait superbe, et 
 jamais je n'ai vu un homme plus charme que Heller ne letait 
 de Watts, de Doyle, des Prinsep, du jardin, et de tout 
 eufin. 
 
 Watts veut voir tout ce que Charlie a jamais fait, aussi- 
 t6t qu'il sera ici, et m'a promis de me donner alors ses meil- 
 leurs conseils sur les maitres qu'il faut lui donner. Apporte 
 done tous ses dessins, meme si cela donne beaucoup d'em- 
 barras ; e'est trop important. Watts approuve beaucoup qu'il 
 s'est tant occupe d'anatomie cet hiver ; e'est vraiment l'homme 
 dans lequel, comme artiste, j'ai le plus de confiance, et je suis 
 bien heureux qu'il montre tant d'interet pour Charlie. 1 
 
 think I ought to go this time on account of Charlie and Watts ; the 
 weather is splendid, and the garden will doubtless be very agreeable. I 
 have first every kind of rehearsal, especially one with Heller at Broad- 
 wood's ; he lias composed a new cadenza for the Mozart concerto, which 
 we have not yet tried, and we have the orchestral rehearsal to-morrow. 
 
 1 [Translation'] 
 
 6 Arlington Street, 
 
 April 29, 1862. 
 I took Heller to the Prinseps yesterday ; there was no other guest but 
 Doyle, and Mrs. Prinsep was the only lady. The house itself is not yet in 
 order. The weather was splendid, and I never saw a man more charmed 
 than was Heller with Watts, with Doyle, with the Prinseps, with the garden 
 and with everything. 
 
 Watts wishes to see everything that Charlie has ever done, as soon as 
 he comes to town, and he promised that he would then give me the best 
 advice he could as to the masters we must give the boy. Therefore, bring 
 all his drawings, even if it gives a great deal of trouble ; it is very import- 
 ant. Watts highly approves of his having studied anatomy so much this 
 winter. Watts is certainly the man in whom, as an artist, I feel the 
 best confidence, and I am very happy that he takes so much interest 
 ;irlie.
 
 FROM ERNST, 1862 209 
 
 XLII 
 
 FROM ERNST 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Nice :May 21, 1862. 
 
 Dear Friend, — I have just finished a letter to Chorley in 
 which I begged him to tell you that I would write to you in 
 a few days. But ' je prends mon courage a deux mains,' in 
 spite of fatigue and excitement, and do so at once, for I will 
 no longer delay to tell you how glad I am that you have 
 joined the friends who are venturing upon my enterprise. 
 You must feel a certain satisfaction in contributing to the 
 success of a project in which, a few years ago, you took the 
 initiative. Let me thank you to-day (which I hope Roth 
 has already done for me), and at the same time assure you 
 that my joy at your participation would have been complete 
 had your kind offer been sent to me by yourself ; although on 
 the former occasion I thought it right for different reasons 
 not to accept it. It is now five years since misfortune over- 
 took me, and much has changed since then. In compliance 
 with our friend Chorley 's wish, I have already sent you my 
 quartet by post ; I hope it is now in your hands, if not, kindly 
 claim it at Chappell's in New Bond Street. Notwithstanding 
 the other hopes attached to it, I can assure you that the 
 appreciation, if only in part, of my work by the public would 
 fulfil the innermost wish of my artist's heart, and be the 
 greatest satisfaction the efforts of my career could obtain. 
 
 Under your direction, and with artists so great as those 
 London can offer, I am certain of the most perfect interpreta- 
 tion, and, in the event of ill-success, my disillusion would 
 be all the bitterer. 
 
 I have no special remarks to make. I hope you will be 
 able to read the score; it is very unequally written out, 
 according to the greater or lesser degree of my suffering. To 
 your judgment and insight I leave it, whether the scherzo is 
 to follow the first movement or the andante (as it is written) ; 
 since I sent it off the thought has occurred to me to let it
 
 270 LETTERS 
 
 follow the first movement, as it would serve to make the con- 
 trast greater between the allegro moderato and the andante. 
 
 But one thing more — pay special attention to the part in 
 the last movement commencing with poco apocopiii lento, and 
 continuing to the poco a poco accell. e crescendo. I should like 
 it to be played almost ruhato and with great abandon. The 
 whole of the last movement with the greatest possible swing. 
 
 I cannot tell you, my dear Halle, with what impatience 
 I am expecting a letter from you. In our youth art brought 
 us together. After five years' separation and almost entire 
 cessation of our former so intimate intercourse, she again 
 stretches out her hand to unite us once more. May you seize 
 it as eagerly as I '. "Write to me soon. With real joy I shall 
 hear of all that concerns you and your family. Do not be 
 chary of news, tell me of all our mutual friends, and of the 
 present state of art in London. 
 
 Your old and true friend, 
 
 Ernst. 
 
 A thousand greetings to all yours, and the same from my 
 wife. 
 
 XLIII 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Nice: June 13, 1862. 
 Dear Friend, — The good news contained in your kind 
 letter gave me all the more pleasure that it arrived at a 
 moment when the ill-luck, that has followed me so long, had 
 just dealt me another blow. Can you believe it, that yester- 
 day morning, between four and five o'clock (almost the only 
 hour during which I slept, and indeed I had had a light burn- 
 ing until then) we were robbed, in the very room in which 
 !--pt. The value of the articles stolen is at least 1 ,000 frs., 
 and besides their material worth they were precious as remem- 
 brances. Among them a large watch, which, together with 
 its wooden stand, was taken from under my very nose, from 
 the table beside my bed. The whole day we had commis-
 
 FROM ERNST, 1862 271 
 
 saires de 'police, juge d 'instruction, procureur imperial, com- 
 mandant des gens d'armes, and gens d'armes in the house, to 
 search the premises and take our depositions. Up to the 
 present, the wooden watchstand has been found on the ground 
 floor, but has led to nothing further. It has been such a 
 curious robbery that it gives rise to all sorts of conjectures 
 and solves none of them. All this has excited and distressed 
 me so much that I have spent a terrible night, and this 
 morning early I received your letter ; you can imagine how 
 welcome it was. A thousand thanks for it, and a thousand 
 thanks to you all for your sympathy. 
 
 I accept with great gratitude the offer for my quartet, so 
 delicately put. . . . With regard to the time of publication, 
 it would be advantageous to me if it could be deferred until 
 late autumn, as some musical friends in Vienna propose to 
 organise a performance of it, for which the summer season is 
 not suitable, and it would lessen the interest of the public if 
 the work was already printed and at every one's disposal. 
 
 The kind offer of a concert at which my quartet shall be 
 played, and the form it is to take pleases me greatly, and it 
 is a matter of course that Chappell's shall have the right to 
 perform it afterwards as often as they like. The good God 
 grant that its reception may be such as to make them wish 
 to exercise the right frequently . . . And now let me tell 
 you that what you say of the impression my composition 
 made upon you on reading it through, greatly pleased me, 
 and I shall be enchanted if you think as well of it after 
 having heard it. Write to me, I earnestly beg of you, as 
 soon as ever you are able to tell me your opinion. 
 
 Need I assure you that the two names Joachim and 
 Piatti delighted my artist's heart, and that the thought of the 
 first public performance of my work being in such hands 
 filled me with the liveliest hopes? 
 
 Thank them for the care they are going to bestow upon 
 me, which you have already promised in their name. In 
 your next letter I should like to hear what artists you have 
 chosen for the second violin and viola.
 
 272 LETTERS 
 
 My health. I am sorry to say, is no better, and only the 
 
 importance and interest of the circumstance enabled me to 
 
 overcome the agitation of spirit, and the pain in my fingers 
 
 and arms which long writing produces. The day before 
 
 ■rdav I took my first sea-bath, but could not continue 
 
 them. 
 
 I close my letter with repeated thanks to my friends, 
 particularly Chorley and Chappell ; the latter's letter I have 
 received and shall write to him soon. Hearty greetings to 
 your dear wife and children, from myself and my wife. 
 
 Your old friend, Ernst. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 Nice : June 29, 1862. 
 Dear Friend, — I am just at present in a series of very 
 painful days, else I should have acknowledged sooner the 
 receipt of the 100L, and not have let two days intervene 
 before expressing my great joy at the success of the concert, 
 and the gratitude and emotion that filled me at hearing of 
 such a widespread expression of good-will and sympathy. 
 
 Even to-day it is impossible for me to write at any length ; 
 therefore I beg you, dear Halle, to be the interpreter of my 
 most heartfelt thanks to all those (a commencer par vous) who, 
 in one way or another, have proved their sympathy for me. 
 As soon as I feel better, I hope to be able to write to each 
 separately. The unprecedented composition of the quartet 
 enchanted me. I beg you at the first opportunity to embrace 
 them all four, and their instruments as w r ell. That which 
 my dear old friend, the great master Molique, 1 did for me, 
 -ed me above all. 
 
 I received letters from Lehmann, Chappell, and Joachim 
 ■ >r; greet them all for me; letters will follow, as soon as 
 I am a bit better, to each in turn. The weather is so un- 
 1 Molique played the second violin in the quartet.
 
 FROM II. F. CIIORLEY, 1862 273 
 
 usually bad here that since my first sea-bath, I have not been 
 able to take another. No trace of the thieves ; appearances 
 seemed to point to a maid-servant, but nothing could be 
 proved. Lehmann sent me the Times ; many thanks. 
 
 I can write no more. I greet you and yours a thousand 
 times. Your old, faithful Ernst. 
 
 P.S. — I am very, very ill, my dear friend. Forgive my 
 brevity. You would oblige me much by sending me some of 
 the papers that have notices of the concert. 
 
 XLV 
 
 FROM H. F. CHORLEY 
 
 13, Eaton Place, W. 
 
 Tuesday, August 19, 1802. 
 
 My dear Halle, — Thank you very much for all the trouble 
 you have taken. Thank you more for your 'wilfulness (I had 
 meant willingness) in offering me a great help. The specimens 
 are very queer, but are full of humour, nothing in them that 
 you could not play at first sight. 1 
 
 I shall be back (d.v.) on the 11th of October, and before 
 my return I shall have the illustrations copied so that any 
 one can read them. They are just now rather chaotic, as 
 Sullivan played from a figured bass sometimes. I have a 
 sylla^//' (bus) ready to send to Mr. Worthington, in case it is 
 the habit of the institution to announce matters beforehand. 
 This I hope to hear from him ere I go, which will not be till 
 the 26th. 
 
 I am glad you liked the Prologue. It was murderously 
 ill-spoken. I should have sent it at once to the Manchester 
 papers, only, as I planned going thither, I did not choose to 
 put myself forward for to go philantliropically , after the fashion 
 of the holy * * * ! Perhaps, however, they might like to have 
 it, and, if you think so, I send you a copy. 
 
 I am dead heat, having used up my last scraps of energy 
 
 1 Mr. Chorley was about to give a lecture on inusic in Manchester in 
 aid of the Cotton Famine Fund. 
 
 T
 
 274 LETTERS 
 
 in making this opera-book for Sullivan. It is worth while, 
 for what he has written is delicious, with a sort of ' perfume ' 
 about it (I can get at no better word), which I have found in 
 the fancies of no other English composer. So, good-bye till 
 October 11, and thank you. Best regards all round, from 
 ever yours truly, 
 
 Henry F. Chorley. 
 
 XLVI 
 
 TO HIS SON CHARLES 
 
 Greenheys : September 28, 1862. 
 
 My dear Charlie, — Your first letter from ' foreign parts ' 
 has duly arrived this morning, and gives us great pleasure, 
 as it contains nothing but satisfactory news. I had only one 
 fault to find with it, namely, that it was not dated, which, as 
 your mamma is sure to keep all your letters most preciously 
 (and if she did not I might, perhaps, have that weakness my- 
 self), would render the chronological order most difficult to 
 preserve if persevered in ; therefore you are herewith requested 
 to put the proper day of the month in all future letters, and 
 — the next time you leave off writing, you might, perhaps, 
 spell ' off ' with a double f, if Mrs. Appell supplies you with 
 sufficient ink. There ! We arrived here all safe and sound 
 at about a quarter to eleven on Friday evening, and found 
 the house in excellent order; my room looks exceedingly 
 well, and more comfortable than ever. We have all got over 
 the fatigue now, but to-day there are great lamentations in 
 the house, as none of the boxes sent off from Cowes on Thurs- 
 day have arrived yet, thanks to M., who had the bright idea 
 of omitting the direction, so that the supply of clean linen, 
 &c, has run awfully short, and the two boys are sporting the 
 maids' collars, without which they could not have gone to 
 church. 
 
 The fowls, chickens, and the dog are all quite well, and 
 send compliments ; the dog is really very nice and no ' beast,' 
 but had very nearly come to a premature end yesterday. He is
 
 TO HIS ELDEST SON, 1862 275 
 
 so very lively that the boys thought they had better chain him 
 up, so they got a cord, made a running noose at one end and 
 put the poor dog's neck in it ; of course, being so very lively, 
 he soon strangled himself most effectually, got into ' agonies,' 
 and began to foam at the mouth, upon which he was declared 
 mad, and I was just considering if I might not shoot him 
 with your peashooter, when Mrs. C.'s servant fortunately 
 found out the cause of the poor animal's behaviour, and at 
 once released him and us all from our anxiety. This is the 
 only event I have to relate from here to-day. . . . 
 
 Mamma is writing to you also, so that you will have enough 
 to read to-day ; do not think that I am going to spoil you 
 often as I do now, but be sure that I expect to be spoiled, 
 and hope that you will write often and much. 
 
 God bless you, my dear boy. With love from us all, 
 
 Your loving father, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 XLVII 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Greenheys : October 2, 1862. 
 
 My dear boy, — Your mamma tells me this minute (a quar- 
 ter of an hour before post time) that nobody has written to you 
 to-day ; I hasten, therefore, to send you a few lines, as other- 
 wise you would be without news until Monday, to say that 
 we are all well. . . . 
 
 You have got fairly into harness now ; try only to have 
 your lessons not too far off from your house ; long distances 
 won't be pleasant at all during the winter. 
 
 What are you drawing now at the Museum ? please let 
 me know, so that I may, in mind, see you at work. It appears 
 that Chappell will want me at the end of this month already, 
 so that I shall soon have a look at you and at your work, for 
 you must take me to the Museum whenever I come. 
 
 Your long letters make us all very happy ; continue to 
 write as much as you can, you will prevent many ' agonies.' 
 
 t 2
 
 276 LETTERS 
 
 5 sterday evening the children gave me a party in the 
 ilroom, which I like so much. . . . 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 Ch. Halle. 
 
 XL VIII 
 
 TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Londres: 26 mars 1863. 
 .] arrive a l'instant (dix heures du soir) de Windsor et je 
 vais te raconter ma journee avant de me couch er. J'y suis 
 arrive" a deux heures ; Iluland avait fait preparer un excellent 
 luncheon dans sa chambre, pendant lequel il me disait que 
 nous irions ensuite faire un peu de musique en haut dans la 
 salle de llubens (ou il y avait deux pianos) et que peut-etre 
 nous aurions la visite de la Princesse de Wales, qui savait 
 depuis deux jours par Lady Augusta Bruce que je devais 
 venir aujourd'hui. Un peu apres trois heures nous sommes 
 montes et avons commence a jouer a quatre mains ; au bout 
 il'une derui-heure un domestique est venu porter une petite 
 lettre de Lady A. Bruce a Ruland, dans laquelle elle lui disait 
 que les deputations du Lord Mayor, etc., etc. etaient arrivees 
 si tard que cela mettait fin au projet de la Princesse de venir 
 nous entendre. J'etais naturellement contrarie, mais cepen- 
 dant content de ce que la Princesse s'etait occupee de moi. 
 Apres un autre quart d'heure Lady Augusta Bruce est venue 
 elle-meme, et s'est montree la gracieusete meme ; c'est une 
 bien aimable dame, aimantla musique passionnement ; j'ai du 
 lui jouer une sonate de Schubert, une de Beethoven, et Dieu 
 sait combien de petits morceaux de Bach, Mendelssohn, 
 Heller, etc. Elle ne nous a quittes qu'a six heures passees, et 
 alora nous sommes redescendus chez Ruland. A peine 
 installes dans sa chambre, un domestique est venu avec 
 I'agreable annonce : ' The Prince and Princess of Wales wish 
 to sec Mr. Halle.' Nous sommes montes alors en toute hate 
 dans lea appartements prives (Ruland pour me presenter), et 
 pendant que nous attendions devant la porte que le domestique 
 nous annonce, la Princesse Alice, avec le Prince Louis, qu'on
 
 TO HIS WIFE, 1863 277 
 
 avait evidemment fait chercher aussi, nous ont pass*' pour 
 entrer chez le Prince. La Princesse Alice s'est arretee et m'a 
 serre les mains d'une maniere bien affectueuse, en me disant 
 qu'il y avait si longtemps quelle ne m'avait vu. Un moment 
 apres nous les avons suivi, et le Prince de Wales, apree 
 m'avoir donne" un shake-hand cordial, m'a presente" a sa femme, 
 de la beaute et de la grace de laquelle on ne peut se faire 
 ancune idee pur les photographies. II n'y avait la (pie le 
 Prince et la Princesse de Wales, la Princesse Alice et le 
 Prince Louis, lluland et moi, et j'y suis reste jusqu'u sept 
 heures et demie, tantot faisant de la musique, tantdt causant de 
 la maniere la plus fainiliere et la plusagreable detoute espece 
 de sujets. Pendant la conversation le Prince de Wales m'a 
 prie de lui acheter trois pianos, deux grands, les meilleurs 
 que je puisse trouver, pour sa maison, ' un pour en bas, et 
 l'autre pour en haut,' comme il me disait, et le troisieme un 
 petit en ' maple wood and green silk,' dont il veut faire 
 cadeau a la Princesse Alice. Quand enfin on nous a conge- 
 dies, il a rappele Ruland au moment ou je sortais de la porte, 
 pour lui demander si je viendrais a Londres pendant quelque 
 temps cette saison, et quand Ruland lui a dit que j'y etais 
 deja et que j'y resterais il a lvpondu : ' Ah, j'en suis bien con- 
 tent.' II me semble done evident que la Princesse me 
 demandera de lui donner des lecons ou que le Prince a quel- 
 ques intentions sur moi, car jamais il ne m'aurait demandede 
 lui acheter trois pianos si cela devait en rester la, et la 
 remarque a Ruland disait clairement qu'il aura besoin de moi. 
 Ruland et Becker sont tous deux de la meme opinion et bien 
 contents, je t'assure. Je suis plus avance que Becker main- 
 tenant, car il n'a pas encore parle a la Princesse de Wales, 
 tandis que j'ai ete assis a cdte" d'elle pendant une heure. La 
 journee n'a done pas ete perdue ; puisse le recit to faire 
 pelque plaisir. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 London: ^Iarch 2<'., L863. 
 
 I have at this moment (10 p.m.) arrived from Windsor, and I will relate 
 my adventures before going to bed. I arrived there at two o'clock ; Ruland 
 had an excellent luncheon ready in his room, during which he told me that
 
 2 7 - LETTERS 
 
 XLIX 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Darmstadt : mercredi matrn, 
 8 sept. 1863. 
 
 Nous sommes toujours avec cebon Becker ; il avait telle- 
 
 ment compte but une longue visite qu'il a ete vraiment im- 
 
 we should go up to the Rubens room afterwards (where there are two 
 s) to make a little music, and that we should perhaps receive a visit 
 be Princess of Wales, who had known for the last two days, through 
 Lady Augusta Bruce, that I was expected to-day. A little after three 
 ; we went upstairs and began to play duets. Presently a servant 
 came in with a little note from Lady A. Bruce to Ruland, to tell him that 
 the Lord Mayor's deputation, &c, &c, had arrived so late that they had put 
 an end to the Princess's intention of coming to hear us. I was naturally 
 a little disappointed, and yet pleased that the Princess had thought of 
 me. After another quarter of an hour Lady Augusta Bruce came in and 
 was graciousness itself ; she is a very amiable lady, passionately fond of 
 music. I had to play a sonata of Schubert's, one of Beethoven's, and 
 heaven knows how many little pieces by Bach, Mendelssohn, Heller, &c 
 nly left us at past six o'clock, and then we went back to Ruland's 
 room. We were hardly there when a servant came in with the agreeable 
 message ; ' The Prince and Princess of Wales wish to see Mr. Halle.' We 
 in all haste to the private apartments (Ruland to present me), and as 
 we were waiting at the door to be announced, Princess Alice and Prince 
 9, who had evidently also been sent for, passed us to go into the 
 Prince's room. Princess Alice stopped and shook hands with me very 
 affectionately, saying it was a very long time since she had last seen me. 
 ment later, we followed her in, and the Prince of Wales, after shaking 
 hands cordially, presented me to his wife, of whose beauty and grace the 
 photographs give no idea. There was no one present but the Prince and 
 Princess of Wales, Princess Alice and Prince Louis, Ruland and I, and I 
 ed until half-past seven o'clock, either making music, or joining in 
 familiar and most agreeable conversation upon all manner of subjects. 
 Prince of Wales asked me to buy him three pianos, two grands, the 
 best that I could find, for his house, ' one for downstairs, and the other 
 for upstairs,' as he said, and the third, a cottage piano in ' maple wood 
 and green silk,' which he means to give to Princess Alice. When at last 
 we were dismissed he called Ruland back, just as I was going out, to ask him 
 if was going to London this season for any length of time, and when Ruland 
 him I was there already and meant to stay, he said : 'Ah, I am very 
 I .' It seems evident, therefore, that the Princess means to ask me to 
 her lessons, or that the Prince has some intentions concerning me, or 
 'juld never have asked me to buy him three pianos. Ruland and 
 Becker are of the same opinion, and greatly pleased, I assure you. I am 
 further advanced than Becker, for he has not yet spoken to the Princess of
 
 TO HIS WIFE, 1863 279 
 
 possible de le laisser dejfi, et la Princesse a, de son cote, rendu 
 notre depart impossible jusqu'ici. Lundi matin, apres avoir 
 expedie ma lettre, elle m'a fait dire qu'elle reviendrait de 
 Francfort & quatre heures et espcrait me voir de suite a Kranich- 
 stein, le chateau quelle habite pendant 1'ete, a une distance 
 de deux milles a peu pres de Darmstadt. Nous y sommes alles, 
 Becker, C, et moi, mais Becker devait retourner en ville et 
 C. s'est fait promener dans le magnifique pare par notre fiacre 
 pendant le temps de ma visite. La Princesse a ete on ne peut 
 plus aimable et m'a garde jusqu'a, pres de sept heures, elle a 
 fait chercher son Baby pour me le montrer, nous avons fait 
 beaucoup de musique ensemble ; le Prince Louis est venu nous 
 ecouter en fumant son cigare dams le salon, et avant de la 
 quitter elle m'a dit que comme le lendemain elle avait la visite 
 de la Reine, elle comptait me voir mercredi (aujourd'hui) pen- 
 dant d'autant plus de temps, et hier elle m'a fait dire d'etre 
 chez elle ft deux heures aujourd'hui. La Reine et la Princesse 
 Helene sont venues hier avec elle en ville, pour voir son petit 
 palais et celui qu'elle fait batir ; pour aller au premier elles 
 passaient la maison de Becker, en voitures decouvertes ; C. et 
 moi nous etions a une fenetre du rez-de-chaussee et toutes les 
 trois nous ont envoye les saluts les plus aimables, la Reine se 
 retoumant plusieurs fois quand elles avaient passe deja. Elle 
 a de suite dit a Becker, qui les attendait au palais, qu'elle 
 m'avait vu ainsi que sa mere. 1 . . . 
 
 Wales, whereas I have sat beside her for an hour. So my day was not 
 wasted ; may this account of it give you pleasure. 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Darmstadt : Wednesday morning, 
 
 September 8, 1863. 
 
 We are still with our good Becker; he had so counted on a long visit 
 that it was impossible to leave him sooner, and the Princess has also 
 made our departure impossible until now, On Monday morning, after 
 I had despatched my letter, she sent me word that she would come back 
 from Frankfort at four o'clock, and hoped to see me afterwards at Kranich- 
 stein, the castle she inhabits during the summer, about two miles from 
 Darmstadt. Becker, C. and I went there together, but Becker had to go 
 back to the town, and C. drove about the magnificent park during my 
 visit. The Princess was most amiable and kept me till near seven o'clock. 
 She sent for her baby, to show him to me. We made much music together ;
 
 280 LETTERS 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Hagen : 13 septembre 1863. 
 
 Eier matin, a dix heures, nous sommes arrives en bonne 
 Bante" chez ma mere et nous l'avons trouvee, Dieu merci, bien 
 portante. . . . Tante Altgelt avec tante Koch n'ont pas 
 tarde" a venir nous voir. Tu peux te figurer leur joie en 
 voyant C. Tante Altgelt est toujours la meme, elle n'a 
 change en rien et est aussi active et forte qu'elle etait il y a 
 vingt ans, et bonne, comme tu le sais ; c'est vraiment une femme 
 merveilleuse. 
 
 Apres diner j'ai fait avec C. une promenade, accom- 
 pagne du fidele Cornelius, qui a engraisse d'une maniere 
 prodigieuse ; nous sommes montes d'abord sur le Goldberg et 
 C. a ete emerveille de la beaute de la vue, et du charme de ce 
 
 ■ et paisible Hagen ; puis nous sommes descendus, et je lui 
 
 ai montre la maison et la chambre dans laquelle je suis ne, 
 
 l'ecole dans laquelle j'ai ete eleve, l'eglise dans laquelle j'ai 
 
 fait ma premiere communion, la maison de notre bon pasteur 
 
 Zimmermann, les differentes maisons que nous avons succes- 
 
 sivement habitees, la maison de Cornelius et la chambre dans 
 
 laquelle nos pauvres peres, Cornelius et moi, nous attendions 
 
 tous les dimanches l'heure de l'eglise, la salle ou j'ai joue 
 
 pour la premiere fois en public, et ensuite tous ces chers 
 
 endroits ou nos jeux d'enfance se passaient, et que je porte 
 
 tous dans mon cceur ; ou nous faisions, Cornelius et moi, nos 
 
 Rnl>insonades, ou nous cherchions des papillons, ou nous 
 
 herborisions lorsque la passion de la botanique nous avait 
 
 Prince Louis came to listen, smoking his cigar in the drawing-room, and 
 before I left she told me that as she expected a visit from the Queen next 
 clay, she would hope to see me again on Wednesday (to-day) for a longer 
 time, and she sent me word yesterday to go to her at two o'clock to-day. 
 The Queen and Princess Helena came with her to town yesterday, to see 
 her little palace and the new one she is building. On their way to the 
 former they passed before Becker's house, in an open carriage. C. and I 
 were at a window on the ground floor, and they all three bowed to us most 
 amiably, the Queen turning round several times after they had gone by. 
 She immediately told Becker, who was awaiting them at the palace, that 
 she had seen me, and his mother as well. . . .
 
 FROM SIR WILLIAM FAIKBAIEN 281 
 
 pris, ou nous apprenions a connaitre les etoiles, ou. nous 
 revions ensemble tant de choses, dont si peu se sont realisees, 
 et ou cette amitie d'enfance s'est formee qui ne pourra jamais 
 finir. Ah, que ces souvenirs sont bons, et comme ils atten- 
 drissent le cocur — je sentirai longtemps l'effet de cette visite — 
 nous le sentirons tous— je n'ai eu qu'une pensee hier pendant 
 tout ce pelerinage, pensee qui comprend tout, c'est que Dieu 
 veuille que mes enfants puissent un jour, en pensant a leur 
 pere, sentir ceque j'ai senti hier, et ce que j'Sprouve toujours 
 ici. Je ne puis rien aj outer a cela. 1 
 
 LI 
 
 FROM SIR WILLIAM FAIRHAIHX 
 
 [A great friend of both, my parents was the venerable Sir 
 William Fairbairn, the eminent engineer. He was a regular 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Hagen, September 13, 1863. 
 
 We arrived here, in good health, at ten o'clock yesterday morning at 
 my mother's, and found her well, thank God . . . Aunt Altgelt, with Aunt 
 Koch, did not delay to come and see us. You can picture their delight at 
 seeing C. Aunt Altgelt is just the same, she has not changed in the least 
 and is as strong and active as she was twenty years ago, and good as you 
 know her to be; she is really a marvellous woman. After dinner I went 
 for a walk with C, accompanied by the faithful Cornelius, who has grown 
 prodigiously stout ; we first went up the Goldberg, and C. was delighted 
 with the beauty of the view and with the charm of this dear, peaceful, 
 Hagen ; then we came down, and I showed him the house and the room in 
 which I was born, the school where I was educated, the church in which I 
 made my first communion, the house of our good pastor, Zimmermann, the 
 different houses in which we had successively lived, the house of Cornelius 
 and the room in which our poor fathers, Cornelius and I, used on Sundays 
 to await the hour of service, the room in which I first played in public, 
 and then all the dear spots where we played our childish games, every one 
 of which I carry in my heart ; where Cornelius and I played at Robinson 
 Crusoe, where we caught butterflies, where we collected plants when the 
 passion for botany had seized us, where we learnt to know the stars, where 
 we dreamt of so many things, so few of which have come to pass, and 
 where that friendship was formed which can never have an end. Ah, how 
 good are these memories, and how they stir one's heart ! I shall long feel 
 the effects of this visit— we shall all feel them— I had but one thought 
 during all this pilgrimage, a thought that contains all tinners ; it was that 
 God might grant that one day my children, in thinking of their father, may 
 feel as I felt yesterday, and as I always feel when I am here. I can add 
 nothing to that.
 
 282 LETTERS 
 
 attendant at my father's concerts, and it was always a pleasure 
 to mv mother when, from her box, she could see his beautiful 
 snow-white head towering above his fellows, as he entered the 
 Free Trade Hall accompanied by his gentle wife; greatly 
 pleased was she, therefore, to receive the following charac- 
 teristic letter from her old friend the morning after one of 
 the great Thursday concerts.] 
 
 Manchester : December 2, 1863. 
 My dear Mme. Halle,— There is an old saying that — 
 
 Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, 
 To soften rocks. 
 
 In that I agree so far as regards the former, but I never knew 
 it make any impression upon the latter. One thing I how- 
 ever know, and that is that Mr. Halle, in his intensity of 
 thought and his love of the sublime in sound, is the very 
 essence of harmony. In fact, he 
 
 Floats upon sound, and rides upon its echo! 
 
 Such were my feelings the other evening as I watched his 
 motions. I perceived that every movement was in unison 
 with a volume of sound, that appeared to descend from the 
 heroic to die in strains of melody upon the ear. 
 
 Music is certainly an exquisite art, and the liquid tones 
 of the human voice, when in harmony with tuned instruments, 
 become the more sensitive as they recede from the sonorous 
 to the more subdued tones that affect the passions and touch 
 the heart. Even old as I am, I felt all these sensations, as I 
 allowed the music full and unrestricted scope during the 
 time I watched the movements of our able and exquisite 
 leader. On that occasion I gave full rein to my imagination, 
 at least so far as to fancy that I perceived the very notes 
 
 ie from his fingers, as he spread them abroad to the right 
 and left of the performers. There is magic in that wand 
 that he wields so tunefully, but there is more in the liquid 
 tones, as he so cleverly diffuses them over the heads of his
 
 FROM SIR WILLIAM FAIRBA1RN 283 
 
 audience with the art and power of a magician ! Like an 
 old Scotch song : 
 
 His very step has music in it, 
 
 As he comes up the stairs ! 
 
 So I think of the leader of Halle's Concerts ! 
 Believe me, my dear Madam, 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 W. Fairbairn. 
 
 [The life of Sir William Fairbairn has been written, and 
 his achievements in his craft recorded, but the number of 
 those who have a personal recollection of the simplicity and 
 charm of this noble specimen of one of nature's truest gentle- 
 men is getting smaller year by year. Nothing was more 
 delightful than to hear him talk of his early days in Scotland, 
 aud of his first arrival in Manchester as a young mechanic. 
 He told me once that his golden rule, and his advice to all 
 young men, had always been to ' work hard and spend little ' ; 
 that when he first got work in England his wages were 
 eighteen shillings a week, and he managed to live on sixteen 
 shillings ; and so he had gone on through all the struggles of 
 his early life, always ' working hard and spending little.' 
 
 His memory carried him back to the very first years of 
 the century, and he remembered old customs of Scotland that 
 lingered in the country-places, and had a strange flavour of 
 antiquity and lawlessness about them. Once, when a little 
 lad, he was driving cattle with his father, and stopped at a 
 remote wayside inn for refreshment. The landlord poured 
 out the drink, and ere he set the glass before each guest 
 raised it to his own lips — a relic of the courtesy that required 
 the act as a proof that there was nothing harmful — neither 
 drug nor poison — in the cup !]
 
 284 LETTERS 
 
 LII 
 
 FROM JOSEPH JOACHIM 
 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 October 12, 1864? 
 
 1 tear HallS, — Only a hasty greeting before I leave Dublin. 
 . . . Belfast, Hotel Royal. Since writing this, my dearest 
 friend, I have been through the whole South of Ireland, and 
 am to-day, October 12, at Belfast, where we remain till Satur- 
 day to give three concerts. Belletti has given me your 
 scolding ! Had I been able to write as you wished, you would 
 have had news of me long since, but to say ' No ' to your 
 renewed amiable offer was more difficult. When one is bound 
 by an engagement efforts are unavailing, and in spite of the 
 call of friendship, one must stay under the yoke. I console 
 myself with the belief that the time will come when I shall 
 be freer. 
 
 On my homeward journey I shall trust to see you, and to 
 spend a day with you and yours, if it can possibly be 
 managed, but I shall write of this from Dublin, where we 
 return on the 22nd (after Ballymena and Londonderry). As 
 to your proposal for March, I can say nothing so long before- 
 hand. I must, before all, see how the winter at Hanover 
 suits me, but I shall certainly let you hear from me from 
 time to time during the winter, as I do not wish distance to 
 make us strangers, or that our shake in the Kreutzer Sonata 
 should chime together less precisely than before ! 
 
 The wonderful scenery of Ireland and the delicious air 
 have refreshed and strengthened me. I have seldom seen 
 such rich beauties of nature ; it would have delighted you also. 
 
 Jenny Lind's singing is unique. She is one ' by the 
 grace of God,' and a charming travelling companion into the 
 bargain. Pardon my hieroglyphics — thanks to a bad steel 
 pen. Certainly most difficult to decipher. 
 
 Your faithful and obliged JosErH Joachim.
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1866 285 
 
 LILT 
 
 TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Mansfield Street : diraanche, avril 1866. 
 Tu as su par la lettre de Charlie hier, que mon portrait et 
 celui de B. sont positive ment recus a l'Academie, ce qui me 
 fait esperer que les autres le seront aussi, car la ' Beatrice ' est 
 certaineruent encore mieux peinte ; voila done notre bon 
 garcon devant le public et lance, et je ne doute pas de son 
 succcs ; que le bon Dieu le protege dans sa carriere — je sens 
 comme si la mienne etait finie maintenant, car je ne prends 
 plus d'interet, et je ne pense plus, qu'a son succes. 1 
 
 LIV 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hagen : September 7, 1866. 
 
 My dear Slave, — And I am sadly afraid the appellation is 
 but too true, and that my poor young thing has to work with 
 brain and body like the blackest nigger that ever was, and I 
 can only say in return that her old Pa is more grateful to her, 
 especially for the ever cheerful way in which she does her 
 work, than he can express. 
 
 You will all be glad to hear that I found grandmamma, on 
 the whole, better than I ventured to hope. She certainly is 
 somewhat changed, looks a little thinner and older, but no- 
 body would take her to be seventy. It seems that from the 
 moment she knew I was coming she brightened up wonder- 
 fully. I am therefore glad that I did come. They all say 
 
 1 ^Translation'] 
 
 Mansfield Street: Sunday, April, 1866. 
 
 You know by Charlie's letter of yesterday that my portrait and B.'s are 
 positively accepted at the Academy, which makes me hope that the others 
 will also be taken, as the ' Beatrice' is certainly even better painted ; so 
 now our dear boy is before the public and fairly launched, and I have no 
 doubt of his success. May the good God protect him in his career. I feel 
 as if mine had come to an end now, for I take interest solely in, and 
 think only of his success. . . .
 
 23(3 LETTERS 
 
 here that this short visit will help her safely through the 
 
 winter. 
 
 But now I had better relate all that has befallen me since 
 
 3t wrote from London, for the little note from Calais con- 
 tained very few words, and I do not even feel quite sure if 
 you ever received it. On Tuesday evening the weather got 
 
 ery bad in London, the rain falling in torrents and the 
 wind blowing very hard, that I made up my mind not to 
 cross that night, and preferred remaining in Mansfield Street 
 and save the expense of the hotel at Dover, not, however, 
 without having asked cook if she could undertake to call me 
 at six o'clock, and have my breakfast ready at half-past six, as 
 the train started at 7.25, both which she promised faithfully. 
 In the morning when I awoke I thought there was rather too 
 much daylight for six o'clock. I looked at my watch, and, to 
 my horror, found that it wanted only eight minutes to seven. 
 I jumped out of bed, I rang frantically and shouted ' Cook ! 
 cook ! ' all over the house, and, after a while, heard a voice 
 from the top of the house answering, ' Coming.' What could 
 I do but dress in the most fearful hurry, without shaving, 
 send her for a cab the moment she appeared, jump into it in 
 a towering rage, jump into the train, which was just starting, 
 reach Dover two hours later (the train stops at no stations), 
 and find myself on board of the steamer, which even in port 
 iumped up and down like mad, without having had a morsel 
 to eat or even a drop of water to drink ? What do you say to 
 that? And what I most regret is that I had not time even 
 to scold cook and Anne as they deserved, neither of whom 
 spoke a syllable. 
 
 The crossing was very rough, but as before getting under 
 steam I had just time to eat a sandwich and drink a glass of 
 brandy and water (the only drink they seemed to have), I 
 felt more comfortable and kept well all the time, although we 
 were more than two hours before reaching Calais. Louis 
 Gassner 1 was on board, acting as courier to a newly-married 
 young couple, who went to Switzerland on their wedding 
 1 An old servant.
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1866 287 
 
 tour. The young husband suffered fearfully and was a sight 
 to behold, and as his young wife was quite well and could 
 nurse him, he must have felt rather ashamed, I dare say. 
 There was a whole school of young ladies on deck, about 
 eighteen in number, under the guidance of a stout, merry- 
 looking (at starting), old French schoolmistress. They were 
 all laughing and joking before the vessel moved, but, poor 
 things, how they dropped off one after the other, the mistress 
 setting the example, before we were ten minutes on our way ; 
 not one of them escaped, and they were lying about in all 
 possible and impossible positions, and were rolled about by 
 the sailors like so many sacks. I borrowed a waterproof coat 
 from a sailor, in spite of which I got wet through, for as it 
 did not cover my head, and the waves came constantly down 
 upon that unlucky member, they gradually soaked my collar, 
 cravat, waistcoat, and, by degrees, I felt the wet creeping 
 down lower and lower, whilst at the other extremity we stood 
 always about ankle-deep in water. Fortunately, salt water 
 does not hurt ; otherwise, my luggage being registered to 
 Cologne, and I therefore having to travel a whole day and 
 night in this wet state, it might have been the worse for me ; 
 as it is, I feel quite well and all right, but it was certainly 
 not comfortable. 
 
 It was about half-past five a.m. when I arrived at Cologne. 
 I went to the Hotel du Nord, which is nearest to the station, 
 and was not sorry to get my wet clothes off and to go to bed 
 for a few hours. I left again at 11.20 for Hagen, after having 
 sent a telegram to my good mother to announce my arrival, 
 which telegram we are still anxiously awaiting. I hope it 
 will come before I leave again. At the station I got into the 
 midst of a regiment of 'Landwehr' (militia), returning to 
 their homes from the late war, and such a row I never heard 
 before ; such singing, such shouting — I believe I am half 
 deaf still. They seemed to have been at the station, which 
 was cram full, for a long time already, as they were in full 
 song, and there, and afterwards in their carriages till Diissel- 
 dorf, where I left them, they repeated incessantly the follow-
 
 288 LETTERS 
 
 ing spirited and patriotic lines, singing them well, too, and 
 with proper emphasis : 
 
 Die Landwehr hat Ruh, 
 Die Landwehr hat Ruh ; 
 Und wenn die Landwehr Ruhe hat, 
 So hat die Landwehr Ruh ! 
 
 (I append a literal translation for those that might miss 
 the point otherwise) : 
 
 The Landwehr has rest, 
 The Landwehr has rest ; 
 And when the Landwehr has rest, 
 Then has the Landwehr rest ! 
 
 Undeniable, and logic and patriotic sentiments equally 
 sound. Who can wonder now that the Austrians have been 
 beaten by a people capable of such efforts in poetry ? It 
 took a long time to get those noisy warriors into their 
 carriages, but then, when the platform was comparatively 
 empty, there was one little incident which I shall not easily 
 forget. Three poor peasant women, dressed in decent black, 
 went slowly along the train, arm in arm, the middle one 
 crying and seemingly supported by the two others, but all 
 three with such sad faces, and looked once more into every 
 carriage, as if they still hoped it might not be true, and they 
 might discover their lost one, for whom they were already in 
 mourning, in some corner. 
 
 At Diisseldorf the regular troops were also expected to 
 make their entry that day on their return, and the whole 
 town seemed to be one huge flag and wreath ; every house 
 was covered with all sorts of garlands, flowers, and flags, the 
 Prussian one always at the top; all the people were in the 
 street, and altogether it was a most exciting scene. Between 
 Diisseldorf and Hagen I passed a train which contained a 
 regiment of cavalry with some guns, the engine and every 
 waggon being also decorated with flags and wreaths, and 
 such shouting from our train to theirs, and such answering ! 
 
 This was the last incident worth relating ; at the station
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1866 289 
 
 I found Clara, who had been since the day before at every 
 train to look for me ; she brought me to my mother, and 
 what our meeting was you can imagine without my telling 
 you anything about it. 1 
 
 The soldier Koch has not returned yet, but he has been 
 made lieutenant on the battlefield, and as for harrowing 
 details, I have got so many already that they will take me a 
 good long time to tell you viva voce. For to-day I think I 
 have written enough, and will therefore end by telling you 
 how happy I was to have such good accounts of you all. . . . 
 Give my best love to all round, Canon Toole included, and 
 kiss all the little ones for me. I continually pray, as dear 
 mamma used to do, that God may keep you from all dangers, 
 illness, and accidents ! Your loving father, 
 
 Chakles Halle. 
 
 LV 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hagen : Sunday morning, 
 
 September 9, 1866. 
 
 My dear L. — . . . There is nothing talked of here but 
 the war ; and it certainly is very interesting to see real 
 accounts from the battlefield in the letters from the soldiers 
 themselves ; harrowing details I have got in plenty ; enough 
 to satisfy M., and I shall relate them faithfully on my return. 
 I shall also bring a lot of local newspapers, in which many 
 of the soldiers' letters I spoke of are printed. It is now 
 proposed that to celebrate the peace, on a given night, a huge 
 bonfire shall be lighted on the top of every mountain in all 
 Prussia ; which would certainly be a fine sight if one were 
 in a balloon ; they will soon set the whole world in a blaze. 
 
 Soldiers pass through here every day, and people come 
 miles and miles to see them for a second and shout them- 
 selves hoarse. At Diisseldorf the other day an immense 
 hotel near the station was really very fine to behold; you 
 know what a lot of windows these hotels muster ; in this 
 
 1 This was my father's first visit to Hagen after the death of my 
 mother.
 
 :i90 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 case every window had a small balcony entirely covered with 
 flowers and leaves, and in every corner of which there was 
 a tiny Prussian Hag, something like this : 
 
 .-'• , .. 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 \ '%! 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 ,'!, '''"'//I), 
 
 
 fe^ 
 
 jHy^jjg 
 
 *?$&&% 
 
 •^€*? 
 
 imagine more than a hundred windows like this, but you can 
 have no idea how pretty it looked. 
 
 I must tell you that from Diisseldorf to Elberfeld I helped 
 an old, kind-looking lady into the same carriage with me ; 
 
 i after starting I saw her busy at work trying to open 
 the window, which proved a very stiff one ; so I got up, 
 crossed over to her side, and opened it for her, upon which 
 she said : ' danke, danke, schonstens, es ist sehr warm,' and 
 then struck by a sudden idea, and smiling most benignly, 
 she repeated several times with great emphasis : ' mooch, 
 mooch, mooch,' so, to please her, I answered ' very mooch,' 
 and then our conversation dropped, the old lady being evi- 
 dently much pleased with the display of her English. 
 
 Hagen has wonderfully changed since we were here, new 
 streets and new houses have sprung up on all sides ; there 
 are many changes in the people too, and the number of my 
 old friends keeps diminishing steadily; soon there will be 
 none left, and very sad it is. . . . 
 
 With best love to you all in general, and to your own 
 little self in particular, I remain your affectionate father, 
 
 Ch. Halle. 
 LVI 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hagen : Monday, September 10, 18G6. 
 To-morrow I am going to take grandmamma and Aunt 
 Anna, Aunt Altgelt, Aunt Koch, and Clara on an excursion
 
 TO A SON, 1866 291 
 
 to Altena, the birthplace of my mamma, and which none of 
 them have seen for twenty-nine years ; therefore as we start 
 at half-past seven in the morning, and shall probably not be 
 back before seven in the evening, I write a few lines to-day, 
 which, if I leave on Wednesday, will be the last you will 
 receive — from here at least. 
 
 We go by train to-morrow, the distance being about 
 twenty miles, and I cannot tell you how happy they all seem 
 at the idea of seeing once more the place where they were so 
 happy in their childhood. I hope the weather will be fine. 
 To-day it is so-so ; not raining, but threatening. 
 
 We spent the afternoon and evening yesterday at the 
 Kochs, and very pleasant it was. I shall bring you some 
 very fine old Dutch china, which has been in our family at 
 least a hundred years, and is, I think, very valuable : a big 
 milkpot, a coffeepot, a sugar-basin, tea-canister, three cups, 
 but only one saucer. The packing will be the awkward 
 thing, but I hope I shall bring it all safe. 
 
 The soldier Koch is at Hanover now with his regiment, 
 and is likely to be kept there for some months more. He 
 wrote yesterday, and gives very bad accounts of the reception 
 they have met with in Hanover; the ladies turning their 
 backs upon them when they meet them in the streets, and 
 altogether they seem to be treated as enemies, and feel very 
 uncomfortable, so it is not all quite serene. . . . 
 
 Good-bye, my dear M. Sunday I shall be with you in 
 any case. Is it not very strange that, although I am very 
 happy to be with grandmamma, I should be so impatient to 
 find myself again in the midst of my dear— rascals ? A 
 thousand greetings from all here, as usual. 
 
 LYII 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS SONS 
 
 Springkell : September 20, 1866. 
 My dear G. — Cheer up, old boy ! The time will soon 
 pass away, and Christmas will be there before you think of it. 
 And now let me tell you that I am very glad indeed that 
 
 v2
 
 292 LETTERS 
 
 you write so frankly all you feel about the school. By all 
 means continue to do so; it makes me very comfortable; 
 although, of course, I am very sorry that you should both feel 
 so unhappy, you are quite right to tell us all your likes and 
 dislikes. . . . You are equally right in wishing to give it a 
 fair trial, for sometimes first impressions are wrong and do 
 not last, and suddenly to be thrown amongst entire strangers 
 is never pleasant. I remember the doleful letters I wrote 
 when I first was sent to Paris, and how some years later I 
 thought I could live nowhere else. 
 
 Ask B. to keep his temper for his dear mamma's and my 
 own sake, and to be cheerful when the boys tease him. A 
 good laugh will disarm them, and then they will soon leave 
 him alone or be friends with him ; and among so many boys 
 there must be a few nice ones, which undoubtedly you will 
 soon find out. For the present devote all your energies 
 to learning ; try to do that well, so that if you go back to 
 the other school you may have gained upon the other boys. 
 
 Now do as I have often done in similar cases, and think 
 of stages by which you can see how quickly the time flies. 
 The first stage may be our return to Manchester — that will 
 bring you nearer Christmas ; then comes my first concert, 
 and so on. Never look to the most distant time, but always 
 to one of these intermediate stages, and the time will seem 
 much less long. . . . 
 
 And now, my dear boy, or rather my dear boys, I end as 
 I began with — Cheer up ! There are many hard things in this 
 world which we must bear like men, but in your case it will 
 only be for a very short time if it does not mend, and that 
 ought to be a comfort. 
 
 LVIIT 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris : 18 oct. 1866, 
 54 Rue N.-D. de Lorette. 
 Mon cher Halle, — . . . Je suis reste a Paris, Berlioz 
 aussi ; le reste s'est envole a - tire d'aile, qui en Suisse, qui
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1866 293 
 
 aux bords de la mer. Berlioz est aussi bien souffrant, bien 
 plus que moi. II est tout casse, use, et ne fait que geindre, 
 le pauvre homme. A peine qu'on reconnait l'ancien Hector, 
 si fringant, si batailleur, pourfendant ses adversaires, et 
 quelquefois les ailes de moulin. 
 
 Je termine, et t'envoie mes plus sinceres amities, qui ne 
 se sont jamais affaiblies. Tel que j'ai etc, je suis et je serai 
 toujours. Ton STEPHEN HELLEB. 
 
 Mes amities a tes enfans et a Henry Broadwood. 1 
 
 LIX 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Osborne : December 28, 1866. 
 1 will only report shortly the events of the day, as Sahl 
 promises that you will receive this letter on Sunday morning ; 
 there is no chance of your getting one to-morrow. I got to 
 London at six in the morning, having slept a few hours in 
 the railway carriage between Crewe and Rugby, and reached 
 Cowes about a quarter past three, where I found the excellent 
 Sahl at the landing place (East Cowes) waiting for me. He 
 took me at once to Osborne, where I am still ; on the way 
 we met the Queen driving with Princess Helena, who both 
 bowed and smiled most graciously. At Osborne I found an 
 excellent luncheon prepared for me in Sahl's room, saw 
 Sir John Cowell who manages the household, and was 
 informed by him that I was to have General Grey's apart- 
 ments (not in the Palace, thank Heaven, but in the first 
 
 1 \_Translation~] 
 
 Paris: October 18, 1866, 
 54 Rue N.-D. de Lorette. 
 My dear Halle, — ... I have stayed behind in Paris, Berlioz also; the rest 
 have taken wing, some for Switzerland, some for the seaside. Berlioz is very- 
 ill, far worse than 1 am. He is broken, used up, and does nothing but 
 lament, poor man. One can hardly recognise the old Hector, so fiery, so 
 warlike, cleaving his enemies, and sometimes charging at windmills. 
 
 Thus I end, and send you the expression of a sincere friendship that 
 has never faltered. What I have been, that I am, and shall ever be, your 
 
 Stephen Hklleb. 
 My remembrances to your children and to Henry Broadwood.
 
 20-4 LETTERS 
 
 house near the big gate) ; everybody was very polite, and at 
 five o'clock 1 received the message that the Queen wished to 
 see me at half-past five. I had, therefore, to go to her 
 just as I was, there being no time to go back to General 
 . 'a house ; fortunately Sahl lent me a clean collar, mine 
 being rather dirty from travelling. At half-past five I was 
 ushered into a small boudoir, and after a minute the Queen, 
 Princesses Helena, Louise, and Beatrice, and Prince Leopold 
 came in, were also awfully kind and polite, made me play 
 lots of things, and kept me till seven o'clock. The thing 
 was extremely interesting and agreeable, but I shall tell you 
 all about it on my return. Sahl had ordered dinner for us 
 two in his room, in order to avoid dressing, but to-morrow I 
 shall have to breakfast, &c, with the household. Between 
 luncheon and the visit to the Queen Prince Leopold came to 
 fetch me to his room, where we were as jolly as two larks. 
 I must add that there was not a single attendant with the 
 Royalties all the time I was with them, which made it all 
 the more pleasant. What is going to happen to-morrow I 
 do not know, except that breakfast is at half-past nine. 
 
 LX 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Osborne : December 29, 1866. 
 
 My dear L. — You have written me such a nice letter, 
 which I received by the second post this evening, that I 
 think it is only proper I should answer it as soon as possible, 
 especially as you want so much news. I have given M. an 
 account of yesterday, so I may go on with to-day's events. 
 Between breakfast and luncheon, after I had written a few 
 letters in order to substitute the ' Elijah' for 'Iphigenia' on the 
 l ( >th, Sahl and I went out for a walk as far as West Cowes, 
 ^t-pped on board the Queen's yacht for a few minutes, and 
 hail a look at the American yachts, which are rather ugly. 
 
 W e returned to Osborne just in time for luncheon ; the 
 party at meals consists of the Duchess of Athole, Lady
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1866 295 
 
 Caroline Barrington, Lady Susan Melville, Miss Cavendish, 
 Sir Thomas Biddulph, Sir John Cowell, General Seymour, 
 Baron v. Schroeter, Mr. Lake, Dr. Sahl, and myself; the 
 eating is good, and the company very cheerful and not at all 
 stiff, and, like well-bred people, they all make a point of 
 being very polite to me. 
 
 After luncheon, Sahl being busy, I went with Baron 
 v. Schroeter (who has the little Prussian ' prince in charge) 
 down to the shore in the grounds to have another look at 
 the American yachts, which came there that the Queen 
 might have a look at them, and to salute her. The Queen, 
 with a large party, was also at the water's edge, but we, of 
 course, kept aloof. At half-past four o'clock we turned in 
 again, at five your letter came, and I had just opened the 
 envelope when I was called to the Queen ; I saw her, with 
 all her children, in the same room as yesterday, and remained 
 till about half-past six o'clock ; nothing could be pleasanter, 
 except that I had rather too much to play. Once more in 
 Sahl's room I took your letter out of my pocket to read it, 
 when a message came from Princess Helena, or rather 
 Princess Christian, as she is now called, if I would be kind 
 enough to come and see her in her room. So off I trotted 
 again, and after a little chat she asked if I would play a few 
 duets with her, or if I was too tired ? Of course we set to 
 work again, and it was five minutes to eight when she gave 
 me leave to go ; there was just time to dress, and your letter 
 had actually to wait till after dinner before I could at last 
 read it. The Queen takes most kindly to music ; she has 
 suggested many of the pieces I played, and now I am no 
 longer anxious about the choice, but may play just what 
 suits me. 
 
 Altogether this is an extraordinary visit, but when shall 
 I get away from here ? there is the rub ; the Queen speaks, 
 and Princess Helena speaks as if I were going to stop here 
 for ever, and as for little Prince Leopold, he has got such an 
 affection for me, that he follows me about the house from 
 1 The present German Emperor.
 
 29 6 LETTERS 
 
 l'a room to Lake's room, and takes me off to his own 
 whenever he has a chance. The little Prussian is a lovely 
 boy and very droll ; we had a grand scene with him in the 
 room this evening; he came in just when I was 
 about going away, and the Queen wanted him to make me a 
 bow : be was too shy and resisted, so she asked him what 
 his mamma would say if she heard he was so impolite, but 
 
 bad no effect; she, however, insisted upon it, so at last 
 he looked at her and said: 'No, I won't.' And then it 
 
 me a hard struggle between them until he gave in, drew 
 himself up, and made me a deep bow. It was a charming 
 
 e, the Princesses and Prince Leopold laughing most 
 heartily. But I really must go to bed. I hope to-morrow 
 to be able to say when I shall be back ; in the meantime a 
 thousand kisses to all of you from your loving father, 
 
 Ch. Halle. 
 
 LXI 
 
 TO HIS ELDEST DAUGHTER 
 
 December 30, 1866. 
 
 I have no idea if this will reach you to-morrow, but I 
 hope so, that I may at least tell you before the end of the 
 old year, that I shall begin the new one in spirit with you 
 all, although for the first time I shall be away from you all, 
 and not hear your dear voices wish me happiness. Arrange- 
 ments have already been made for me to play again to the 
 Queen in the afternoon and in the evening in the drawing- 
 room, and I cannot upset them. On Tuesday, however, I 
 shall be off and reach you most probably by the night mail, 
 as I shall have something to do in London on account of all 
 these concert changes. 
 
 This day has of course been a quiet one ; there is no music 
 
 g on here on Sundays, and I have only seen Prince 
 Leopold of the Royal Family; I do not know yet, however, 
 what may happen in the evening. 
 
 At three o'clock this afternoon the owners of the Ameri- 
 can yachts came up to Osborne to be shown over the place.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 18/37 297 
 
 One of them, Bennett, is a fine young man, a real giant ; the 
 others are precious ugly. I do not think that they were 
 received by the Queen, but I went out for a walk with Baron 
 von Schroeter and Sahl, so do not know. I have not a bit of 
 news to give you. but enclose the monogram of Princess 
 Helena for the boys, the other side being at the same time an 
 autograph. 
 
 I hope you will make some punch, and good punch too, 
 for all of you to-morrow evening, and kiss all the children, 
 big and little, for me, and also that you will drink my health 
 as I shall drink yours if I get a chance. 
 
 LXII 
 
 TO TEE SAME 
 
 December 31, 1866. 
 
 I am not to leave Osborne before Wednesday morning, 
 the Queen wishing to see me again this afternoon at half-past 
 five o'clock, to spend the evening with the Duchess of Athole 
 and the other ladies (perhaps the Princesses), and to play to 
 her, for the last time, to-morrow evening after dinner instead 
 of this evening. 
 
 So I cannot be at the rehearsal on Wednesday evening, 
 and this makes me as busy as a bee, writing to D. and 
 arranging matters. . . . I shall now arrive on Wednesday 
 nio-ht between two and three o'clock, and reserve all further 
 news till then; this is a visit which the Queen is sure not to 
 forget, and it will keep me in her good graces for ever. 
 
 LXIII 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Tari-s: 17 avril 1S67, 
 
 54 Rue N.-D. de Lorette. 
 Mon cher Halle, — Tu es dans one deplorable erreur si tu 
 crois que je te dois une lettre. Non pas que cette dette, si 
 elle existait, me couterait d'acquitter ; au contraire ; mais c'est 
 qu'il y a difference du tout au tout : c'est toi qui depuis 
 plusieurs mois me dois une lettre, que je t'ai ecrite vers la fin
 
 2 OS LETTERS 
 
 do Fan passe. J'y ai parle de mes dernieres publications, et 
 j'ai expriine le desir d'en avoir ton opinion. 
 
 J "ai reeu la visite de letonnant animal que tu m'as 
 recommande. 1 II a gambade surun seul pied, il a baragouine 
 avec lui seal dans une langue, qui m'a donne la certitude que 
 les differents sons et cris des animaux representent des mots, 
 qu'ilfl comprennent entre eux. Lorsque cette incomprehen- 
 sible creature se mettait tout a coup a jouer la sonate en ut 
 didse mineur, j'avais l'impression comme si je me trouvais 
 devant le Palais des singes du Jardin des Plantes, et que je 
 vovais tout a coup un de ces horribles habitants descendre 
 d'un barreau, auquel il etait suspendu par la queue, et se 
 mettre a un piano pour y jouer du Beethoven. 
 
 J'ai aussi eprouve sa memoire. II a patauge, et meme il 
 a mis du sien, de faeon a me faire croire qu'il sait plus qu'il 
 n'en a Fair, mais il avait en effet assez retenu pour me sur- 
 prendre. II est evident qu'il y a la une aptitude extraordi- 
 naire. Mais, api'estout, je ne puis, avec la meilleure volonte, 
 m'y interesser beaucoup. Je ne sais si je me trompe, mais je 
 crains que son comae le maltraite et joue le tuteur tendre 
 devant le monde. C'est un chef de saltimbanques, beaucoup 
 moins gai que Bilboquet, qui me donne sur les nerfs. 
 Trouves-tu ces gambades, et tout ce manege d'idiot, de possede, 
 naturel ? Depuis Barnum j'ai une extreme defiance contre 
 les rnerveilles americaines. Ce qui est sur c'est la faculte 
 musicale de ce malheureux. Avec toute ta lettre je ne sais 
 rien de particulier sur toi. Tu es devenu tellement occupe et 
 afiaire" qu'on ne parvient plus jusqu'a toi. Cependant ce 
 n'est pas mon interet qui t'a jamais manque. II est vif et 
 sincere. 
 
 Quant a moi, je ne me ferais pas prier pour ecrire souvent 
 et longuement, mais les encouragements m'ont manque. II 
 est vrai que je n'ai rien que du temps (' er hat nichts als Zeit '), 
 comme dit Jean Paul dans les ' Fliigeljahre,' et que toi, tu 
 as toutes sortes de choses, excepte du temps. 
 
 1 A half-witted negro youth, known as ' Blind Tom,' possessed of re- 
 markable musical gifts.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1867 299 
 
 Je t'excuse et — j'en goniis. 
 
 Adieu ; portes-toi bien, dis mes amities a ta famille et 
 crols a 1'inaltarable amitie de ton vieux 
 
 Stephen Heller. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris : April 17, 1867, 
 
 54 Rue N.-D. de Lorette. 
 
 My dear Halli, — You are making a deplorable error if you think that I 
 owe you a letter. Not that the debt, if it existed, would cost me anything 
 to pay; on the contrary; but the truth of the matter is that you owe me 
 the answer to a letter I wrote you towards the end of last year. I spoke 
 in it of my last publications and expressed the wish to have your opinion 
 of them. 
 
 I have had a visit from the extraordinary animal you sent me. He 
 gambolled on one leg, he talked to himself in a jargon, that made me 
 feel certain that the various sounds and cries of the lower animals repre- 
 sent words, which they understand among themselves. When this incom- 
 prehensible creature suddenly began to play the sonata in C sharp minor, 
 I had an impression as if, when in front of the monkey-house at the Jardin 
 des Plantes, I had seen one of its horrid inhabitants suddenly descend 
 from the bar where he had been swinging by his tail, and sit down to a 
 piano to play Beethoven. 
 
 I also tried his memory. He floundered, and even put in something of 
 his own, in such a way as to lead me to think that he knows more than 
 he seems to do, but still he had remembered enough to surprise me. It is 
 evident that his aptitude is extraordinary. But, after all, with the best 
 good-will, I cannot interest myself much in him. I do not know if I am 
 mistaken, but I am afraid that his keeper ill-treats him and plays the 
 tender guardian before company. He seems a master-acrobat, far less 
 cheerful than Bilboquet, and acts upon my nerves. Do you believe those 
 gambols, all that idiot and demoniac business to be natural ? Ever since 
 Barnum I have had an extreme distrust of these American marvels. One 
 thing is certain, the poor wretch's musical faculty. After reading all your 
 letter I know very little about youiself. You have become so busy and so 
 much occupied that one can no longer get at you. It is not my interest 
 in you that has ever failed. It is lively and sincere. 
 
 As for me, I should have needed no entreaties to write often and at 
 length, but I met with no encouragement. It is true that I have nothing 
 but time (er hat nichts als Zeit), as Jean Paul says in his ' FliLjeljahre,' 
 and you, you have all sorts of things, except time. 
 
 I excuse you — and I suffer from it. 
 
 Adieu, keep well, remember me to your family and believe in the un- 
 alterable friendship of your old Stephen Heller.
 
 300 LETTERS 
 
 LXIV 
 
 FROM ROBERT BROWNING 
 
 19 Warwick Crescent, 
 Upper Westbourne Terrace, W. : May 14, 1867. 
 
 My dear Halle, — All thanks for your invitation, which I 
 shall profit by if I possibly can. 
 
 I want to explain to you why in all probability I shall be 
 away from your music ' for once ; it is foolish, I know. My 
 son goes to college at Michaelmas and has to work so hard in 
 order to matriculate at Balliol, where he wants to go, that he 
 cannot spare even one morning a week, and I have got so 
 used to have him with me that I can't bear sitting alone. 
 Next year, if all goes well with us both, I shall assuredly do 
 the nearly one thing I thoroughly enjoy now. Ever yours 
 truly, Kobert Browning. 
 
 LXV 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris: 3 decembre 1874. 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Ta lettre m'a fait bien plaisir, et tu m'as 
 rendu un signale service en me mettant en relations avec un 
 editeur honnete homme, vara avis. . . . 
 
 La Sonate de Wagner est idiote. On est d'autant plus 
 i-tonne de la transformation immense de cet homme. Quand 
 peut-il avoir ecrit cette epicerie ? On dirait qu'il n'avait alors 
 connu, je ne dirais pas Beethoven, mais pas meme une sonate 
 de Hummel, Dussek, voire meme Kalkbrenner, qui a donne 
 de jolis specimens dans ce genre. Ce dernier au moins con- 
 naissait son piano. 
 
 Quand on sort d'une belle representation d'un opera, ou 
 d'une execution parfaite d'une symphonie, on aime a s'en 
 rem6morer le plaisir, en parcourant la partition au piano. 
 C'est ainsi que j'ai fait apres t'avoir entendu jouer la Nocturne 
 et la Barcarolle de Chopin. Je n'avais pas juge ces deux 
 ouvrages a leur valeur. Je les avais entendu rarement, et 
 
 1 My father's Pianoforte Recitals at St. James's Hall.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1874 301 
 
 incompletement, et je n'ai pas ete tente de les lire moi-meme, 
 etant effraye des difficultes qu'elles presentent. 
 
 Ton execution veritablement incomparable a completement 
 modifie mon opinion. Interpreted de cette fapon on reconnait 
 leur grand merite, leur grande valeur; ils sont dignes de 
 Chopin. C'est pour la centieme fois que je me suis dosole 
 sur les conditions desastreuses des ceuvres de musique. 
 
 Elles restent a l'etat de lettre morte, si elles ne trouvent 
 un grand artiste de bonne volonte qui se charge de les faire 
 comprendre et aimer. 
 
 Le peintre n'a pas besoin d'interprete. Un cadre et de la 
 lumiere lui suffisent. 
 
 D'apres ta lettre tu es en ce moment par monts et par 
 vaux. Ne travaille pas trop, ne deviens pas trop riche et 
 tache de donner de temps a temps a ton meilleur ami un 
 dimanche comme le dernier a Paris. Ton vieux 
 
 Stephen Heller. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris : December 3, 1874. 
 
 My dear Halle, — Your letter gave me great pleasure, and you have 
 rendered me a signal service by introducing me to an honest publisher — 
 rara avis. . . . 
 
 Wagner's sonata is idiotic. One is all the more astonished at the 
 immense transformation of the man. When can he have written this 
 sample of grocery ? One would say that when he wrote it he did not 
 know, I will not say Beethoven, but even one sonata of Hummel's, 
 Dussek's, or even Kalkbrenner's, who has given us some pretty specimens 
 in this style. The latter, at any rate, knew the piano. 
 
 When one comes away from a fine performance of an opera, or the 
 perfect execution of a symphony, one likes to recall the pleasure by going 
 through the score on the piano. This I did after hearing you play Chopin's 
 ' Nocturne ' and ' Barcarolle.' I had never judged these two works accord- 
 ing to their value. I had rarely heard them, and incompletely, and I 
 had never been tempted to read them myself, being frightened by the 
 difficulties they present. Your truly incomparable execution entirely 
 modified my opinion. So interpreted, one recognises their great merit, 
 their great value ; they are worthy of Chopin. For the hundredth time 
 I lamented over the disastrous position of works of music. They remain a 
 dead-letter unless they can rind a great artist of good-will, who takes upon 
 himself the task of making them understood and liked. 
 
 The painter has no need of an interpreter. A frame and daylight 
 are sufficient for him. 
 
 According to your letter you must be at this moment among valleys and
 
 302 LETTERS 
 
 LXVI 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hagen: September 3, 1879. 
 Charlie is indeed very lucky and I quite envy him, 
 but the time to the beginning of October seems very short, 
 and probably he will not be able to spare a day for Munich, 
 but it might be useful to him, as I don't think he knows any- 
 thing about the present German painters. If he goes I 
 recommend him to look at one, ' Christ in the Temple ' (the 
 smaller one of two pictures of the same subject in the German 
 part of the exhibition). He will thank me for having drawn 
 his attention to it, for he will seldom in his life have enjoyed 
 such a good laugh. 
 
 We had the Sedan anniversary yesterday, and I had to go 
 to a supper at the ' Concordia' and to sit upon the same chair 
 from half-past eight until half-past one o'clock — a somewhat 
 dreary performance. 
 
 What has been the result of the Grosvenor exhibition 
 this season ? Has it been satisfactory ? 
 
 LXVII 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Copenhagen, Hotel d'Angleterre : April 8, 1880. 
 
 Dearest M. — Here I am ; the day before yesterday I read, 
 to my surprise, that the Princess of Wales was also on her 
 w;iv to Copenhagen, and I am very glad to be here just at 
 the same time. To-day is the King's birthday, and the 
 whole town in a state of uproar ; I am to go to the palace 
 to-morrow morning, and to play there at a matinee either on 
 Sunday or Monday. 
 
 The town seems very fine, but the country from Korsor 
 here is very ugly. I shall see Gade this afternoon, which 
 will be a great pleasure. 
 
 mountains. Do not work too hard, do not become too rich, and try, from 
 time to time, to give your best friend another Sunday like the last in 
 Paris. Your old Stephen Hellee.
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1880 303 
 
 At Hanover, I spent a most agreeable day with Hans von 
 Billow, who was charming, and I had a great success into 
 the bargain. In the evening he, Biilow, gave a supper 
 which must have cost him a year's salary (he is now in the 
 service of the Duke of Meiningen). 
 
 LXVIII 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Copenhagen : April 12. 
 
 I have been twice with the Queen and Princess, and 
 yesterday afternoon played for two hours for them and the 
 King ; they are the most simple and pleasant people I have 
 met with for a long time ; the Princess, of course, being 
 delighted with the joke of seeing me band her letter to the 
 Queen in her presence. 
 
 Gade also is most amiable ; I see him daily, he trots me 
 about, and to-day I am dining with him. On Thursday I 
 shall be in Hagen, and I think I shall go from there to 
 Louviers, unless I get letters which show me that I must 
 get back to London at once. My love to everybody. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Vienna: October 9, 1880. 
 
 Dearest M. — I cannot remember having ever spent more 
 interesting days than these last few ones. Brahms is the 
 most delightful and good-natured creature imaginable, and 
 what a musician ! He knows everything, has everything in 
 his library, and seems quite happy when he can talk about 
 musical curiosities, or about works and certain points in 
 works, which must interest every musician. We have dined 
 together every day at the coffee house (' Der Igel ') where 
 Beethoven used to dine, spent a few hours afterwards in 
 talk, met again in the evening and remained together till 
 midnight. 
 
 Then I have made the acquaintance of PohL, the author
 
 304 LETTERS 
 
 of a most remarkable biography of Haydn, and keeper of 
 the musical archives here; he is a charming, warm-hearted 
 man. and lias shown me all his treasures, autographs without 
 number, and such interesting ones! MS. scores of Beethoven's, 
 Mo art's, Haydn's, Bach's Symphonies, Concertos, unpub- 
 lished works even ; it would have been worth my while 
 to remain months in those rooms. 
 
 Nottebohm is another remarkable man and writer on 
 musical matters, who is in possession of the most curious 
 MS. sketches of Beethoven's sonatas, which have helped me 
 to decide several doubtful passages in some of them, about 
 which I have often quarrelled with Biilow and others. 
 Richter, Helmesberger, Briill, Hanslick, and many others, 
 are all delightful people, and I feel very sorry that go I must 
 on Monday. The weather is delightful into the bargain. 
 
 LXX 
 
 TO HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Leipzig, Hotel Hauffe : October 14, 1880. 
 
 Dearest M. and N. — You have both been very good and 
 written to me, very amusing letters too, although the sky- 
 light adventure must have been far from amusing to you. I 
 hope all is right again by this time, and that umbrellas are 
 no longer necessary indoors. 
 
 My stay in Vienna has been wonderfully interesting ; 
 Brahms has taken to me like a duck to the water (of which 
 I feel not a little proud) ; he hardly ever left me, and on 
 Monday afternoon even went to the station — a very long way 
 indeed — to see me off. I shall have a deal to tell when I am 
 once back in London. 
 
 I left Vienna on Monday at- 2.10 p.m., and arrived here 
 on Tuesday morning shortly after seven. Yesterday morning 
 at nine o'clock I had the rehearsal, which went off very well, 
 and to-night at half-past six is the concert, which I wish 
 was over already. I play a Beethoven Concerto and several 
 small pieces by Chopin ; at the rehearsal the audience (there 
 is rather a large one at the rehearsals here) was very perlite
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1881 305 
 
 to me ; nevertheless, I am a little nervous just now. The 
 band, I am happy to say, is not quite equal to our Manchester 
 Land ; that is a fact. 
 
 Yesterday evening I saw the celebrated ' Meiningen ' 
 actors in Shakespeare's ' Winter's Tale ' ; they certainly 
 play wonderfully well without having any really great actors; 
 it is the perfection of ' ensemble,' and very striking. 
 
 To-morrow, early, I am off for Dresden, where I play on 
 Saturday evening, quite alone, with only a few songs. On 
 Sunday evening I shall be at Hagen, where I must remain a 
 few days, and I shall reach London on Thursday evening 
 next, or perhaps on Friday, to go off to Manchester on 
 Saturday, the first concert taking place on Monday, the 2oth. 
 
 Good-bye, dear girls, and give my love to the boys. 
 
 LXXI 
 
 TO OXE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 66 Elbenfelden Street, Hagen : 
 
 March 19, 1881. 
 Dearest M. — If by chance any one of you said yesterday, 
 between one and two o'clock, ' Now the Dad is in Mopsa's l 
 arms,' that one was much mistaken, for at that time — don't 
 be alarmed, for there was nobody hurt — I was contemplating 
 the wreck of our train between Verviers and Bleyberg, and 
 a more perfect smash I never saw : the engine lying on its 
 back, all the carriages off the line, some of them shattered, 
 the rails being driven through the luggage vans and looking 
 out at the top, and the line itself, from straight as it had 
 been, twisted, with all the sleepers, into a curve for more 
 than a hundred yards. Well, there is much to be grateful 
 for, for not a soul had even a scratch, and I cannot say that 
 I was alarmed for a moment ; all the bumping over the 
 sleepers — and it was severe — left me perfectly cool. I can- 
 not say as much of some of the other passengers nor of the 
 guards. A few looked like ghosts. We had then to be sent 
 
 1 A favourite little dog of my grandmother's.
 
 306 LETTERS 
 
 back to Verviers by a train coming from the opposite side, 
 and later on we were despatched over the wrong line, and 
 altogether I reached Hagen at half-past six o'clock instead 
 of one. I was thankful for having been alone, without one 
 of vou, or else 1 might not have remained so cool. 
 
 II civ I have not even mentioned the matter, as Granny 
 might feel upset. I am happy to say that I found her as well 
 as I could possibly wish. Anna, Bertha, and Mopsa are 
 equally flourishing, the latter young lady rather inclined to 
 get somewhat stout. 
 
 LXXII 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Vienna : Hotel Imperial, 
 
 April 2, 1881. 
 
 Dearest M. — So I have at last played in Vienna, and 
 may say that I have every reason to be pleased. I played 
 Beethoven's Concerto in E flat and three pieces by Chopin, 
 and after each performance I was recalled five times to the 
 platform. People are very complimentary, and if we were 
 not so near Easter I might certainly play again ; as it is, I 
 may be sure to be welcomed another time. At Prague, three 
 days ago, I was even recalled seven times as a rule, and had 
 a great mind to take a chair and sit down on the platform 
 for greater convenience. Here the calls do not mean an 
 ' encore,' they are merely complimentary. 
 
 What has Gladstone been doing to Dizzy ? I have not 
 seen much of the papers. 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 TO THE ^SAME 
 
 Greenheys : October 23, 1881. 
 My dear M. — The Huddersfield Festival was really a 
 great success, and the people most enthusiastic. ' Faust ' never 
 went so well yet. Lloyd certainly sang better than ever, 
 and so did Miss Davies ; Santley was splendid too, although 
 a little fatigued at first. . . .
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1882 307 
 
 I send you two Huddersfield and one Bradford papers, 
 which will tell you the whole story. How things grow! I 
 cannot help thinking now often of the evening when I asked 
 you if you could not help me by translating ; Faust,' and now 
 people have actually come from Ireland to Huddersfield merely 
 to hear it. I have seen them with my own eyes. They had 
 been ruefully sea-sick, and said they would not mind bsing 
 so again the next day if they could hear ' Faust ' once more. 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 TO THE .SAME 
 
 Hagen: April 10, 1882. 
 
 Dearest M. — I also have nothing to report, except that 
 the weather is splendid, although the nights are very cold, 
 that we are all well, aud that the ' Easter Fires ' yesterday 
 evening were extremely fine. 
 
 To-morrow being my birthday, I am sure you will all 
 think of me. It is getting rather serious, but, thank God ! 
 I feel as capable and as fresh for hard work now as in my 
 youngest days. 
 
 May it last so a little longer ! 
 
 LXXV 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 April 11, 1882. 
 
 Dearest Mats, — You have been the spokeswoman for the 
 others, so I must thank you for all the good wishes you have 
 sent me. This is the first birthday I have spent in Hagen since 
 the year eighteen hundred and thirty-six .' and indeed I feel ' I 
 know not how,' as Margaret sings in ' Faust.' I have received 
 all manner of small presents and lots of flowers, but the first 
 thing I saw when coming out of my bedroom this morning 
 was Mopsa, standing on her hind legs, with a big sugar heart 
 dangling from her neck on a beautiful pink ribbon. It is a 
 grand day for her. . . . 
 
 I was sorry to hear of Henri Lehmann's death. One 
 more old friend "one !
 
 308 LETTERS 
 
 April 12, 1882. 
 My birthday lias passed without any serious effects upon 
 my health, and I hope now to stand the next few days man- 
 fully also. The weather is finer than ever — almost too good 
 to last until Sunday. 
 
 LXXVI 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 11 Mansfield Street: August 29, 1882. 
 . . Yesterday I went to Birmingham to hear a rehearsal 
 
 rounod's c Redemption ' — not a very beautiful work — and 
 came back in the evening to have an interview to-day with 
 Grove. I had found a letter here from him informing me 
 that the Prince of Wales offered me the professorship of the 
 first pianoforte class in the Royal College, and I had to show 
 him by my engagement-books how impossible it was for me 
 to accept. He understood at once, and was sorry. They 
 mean to open next year. 
 
 I return to Birmingham this evening, in time for the 
 concert, at which a new work by Benedict — ' Graziella ' — is 
 to be given. It seems that he fainted the other day at a 
 rehearsal, in spite of which he insists upon conducting it 
 himself. 
 
 Gounod was very nice and kissed me, a la frangaise, which 
 I thought unnecessary. Gade is there also, and it is alto- 
 <_!vi her an interesting meeting. Poor Costa looks awful, but 
 gets through his work in spite of his illness ; there is 
 indomitable pluck in the old fellow. 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 TO THE 'SAME 
 
 August 31, 1882. 
 Since I wrote last I have been to Birmingham and heard 
 the first performance of Gounod's ' Redemption.' My first 
 impression was more than confirmed; it is a dull work and 
 monotonous in the extreme. . . . 
 
 Yesterday evening I came on to Preston, where every-
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 1882 300 
 
 thing is in confusion, the Duke of Albany being too ill to 
 make his promised visit. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Bull and Royal Hotel, Preston : ' 
 September 7, 1882. 
 
 Dearest M., — Two of your letters — the last from Cortina 
 and the first from Pieve — have reached me here together. I 
 was most happy to read your description of your excursions 
 to Caprile and Agordo, and could not help reading the whole 
 letter to Straus. It must have been delightful. 
 
 I cannot say as much for Preston, although the weather 
 has become fine since yesterday. First of all, I have caught 
 a horrid cold, and, secondly, I have to deal with a committee 
 that makes many mistakes in the management, and none of 
 us derive any pleasure from the concerts. Just imagine that 
 the performance of ' Elijah ' was announced to commence at 
 half-past eight o'clock — certainly an unreasonably late hour 
 — but the doors could not be opened to the public before a 
 quarter imst nine, because the hall was not ready ! You can 
 fancy the row that was going on. We began the performance 
 at 9.30, whilst the people were streaming in, and, of course, 
 for a long time not a note could be heard, much to our dis- 
 gust. We had not finished until past midnight, in spite of 
 having made no interval. 
 
 Yesterday's concert began at the equally stupid Lour of 
 4.30 o'clock, and we ended in perfect darkness, no arrange- 
 ments having been made for lighting the gas. The crowds 
 of roughs, through which we have to fight our way to and 
 from the concerts, always on foot, are most unsavoury. The 
 processions seem remarkably stupid. So, altogether, I am 
 not in the best of tempers. However, it comes to an end to- 
 morrow afternoon, and perhaps Straus and I may often have 
 a good laugh together over the whole affair. 
 
 Another thing : rehearsals are quite out of the question, 
 1 On the occasion of the Preston Guild Festival.
 
 310 LETTERS 
 
 as there is no room and no time for them, so that nothing 
 goes as it ought to do. 
 
 I suppose by now you are in Venice, and I need hardly 
 Bay that 1 should be only too happy to come to you, but up 
 to the present I hardly know what to say about it. I shall 
 certainly not be able to leave London before the 12th or 
 loth, ?o much I see, and I have an absolute craving for some 
 gocd music. I may say that it is a necessity for me to hear 
 some good performances before beginning my work again, 
 otherwise I might become a ' ganache,' like so many others. 
 So 1 meant to give myself a week or ten days of running in 
 search of what may be interesting at Munich or Vienna, 
 according to the repertoire ; then, before coming back to 
 England, I must spend a little more time at Hagen. Still, 
 I hope that between the two I may find a week to spend with 
 you, about which I shall write later. 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hagen : July 22, 1884. 
 I am still here. Yesterday evening, when my luggage 
 had already been taken to the station, I felt that I could not 
 tear myself aw ay, and sent B. to fetch my bag back. 
 
 I shall never be able to give anybody an idea of what I 
 feel here, of the immense longing for the past and for so 
 many dear faces, all at rest. Not to speak of poor dear 
 granny, I can stand before the house of Cornelius, vainly 
 trying to persuade myself that I shall never see him again. 
 I really think sometimes that I should feel happy if I could 
 live here altogether, so you may imagine if I find it hard to 
 go away. 
 
 LXXX 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Bayreuth : July 26, 1 884. 
 ' Parsifal,' yesterday, made a very deep impression upon 
 me, much more so than before, and I shall see it again to- 
 morrow with very great interest. After all, one has no idea
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1885 311 
 
 in England of such a performance, and one ought to come 
 here every year to learn what can be done — every detail is so 
 perfect. The musical pleasure is not paramount, but there 
 are very fine and powerful effects in it, and it is interesting 
 throughout, and much less crude than ' Siegfried ' and 
 ' Tristan und Isolde.' 
 
 I have not seen Liszt yet and begin to doubt if I shall see 
 him ; the fact is, I don't like his entourage. 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris: 4 mars 1885. 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Depuis trois mois et demi j 'attends la 
 ' longue causerie ' dont tu m'as parle dans ta derniere lettre. 
 Dis-moi de tes nouvelles. Si les esperances dont tu me 
 parlais ne peuvent se realiser, dis-le avec courage. J'ai tou- 
 jours l'espoir que je pourrais un peu travailler. J'ai passe 
 deux mois a faire une petite mazurka, et encore avec l'aide 
 (Tun musicien qui rectifiait mes notes. Le Docteur Wecker 
 parle encore de ' quelque temps.' Oh Dieu ! je n'y crois 
 guere. Voila dix-huit mois que je suis soumis a un traite- 
 ment incessant. Je m'y rends tons les jours. Je me dis si 
 dans six mois il n'y a pas un mieux sensible, il faut aban- 
 donner tout espoir. . . . Je m'ennuie, cela c'est certain. Je 
 ne puis lire mes chers livres, qui m'ont console de tant de 
 peines. Je ne puis parcourir mes cheres partitions de Sym- 
 phonies et de Quatuors qui m'ont fait passer des heures 
 ravissantes. Je ne puis lire les journaux, ni les lettres d'une 
 ecriture fine. Cela fait que l'ennui me fait dorrnir quel- 
 ques heures durant le jour. Cependant il y a pour certaines 
 choses un peu d'amelioration. Je distingue mieux les traits 
 d'une physionomie inconnue ; les aiguilles d'une pendule, si 
 elle n'est pas loin de mes yeux — toutes choses que je n'ai pu 
 faire il y a six mois. 
 
 Si tu fais un voyage pendant les vacances, tache done de
 
 312 LETTERS 
 
 passer quelques jours a Paris avec moi. Je voudrais savoir 
 quelque chose de ta vie, de tes concerts, voyages, etc. 
 Adieu, inon ami. Ecris-rnoi. 
 
 St. Heller. ) 
 
 LXXXII 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris : 13 mars 1885. 
 Cher Halle, — . .. . Mes yeux vont un peu mieux — helas ! 
 Lien peu. Ce que j'ecris est devant moi, pale, efface, voile. 
 Mais je ne suis point aveugle, et Dieu veuille au moins me 
 laisser ce que j'ai. Quand je pense aux malheureux que je 
 vois chez le Docteur, je dois rendre grace a Dieu. Oh ! mon 
 ami si peu fortune qu'on soit, il y a toujours une plus grande 
 infortune, qui vous est epargnee. Tout est relatif. Fon- 
 tenelle, a^e de quatre-vingt-dix-huit ans, ne pouvant ramasser 
 
 i \_Translatio7i] 
 
 Paris : March 4, 1885. 
 
 My dear Halle, — For three months and a half I have been waiting for 
 the ' long talk ' of which you spoke in your last letter. Give me news of 
 yourself. If the hopes of which you spoke cannot be realised, say so with 
 courage. I still have the hope of being able to work a little. 2 I spent two 
 months over a short mazurka, even with the help of a musician to rectify 
 my notes. Doctor Wecker still speaks of ' some time.' Oh, God ! I hardly 
 believe in it. For eighteen months I have undergone an incessant treatment. 
 I go to him every day. I tell myself that if in six months there is not a 
 material improvement, I must give up all hope. ... I feel dull — so much 
 is certain. I cannot read my beloved books, which have consoled me in so 
 many troubles. I cannot go through my beloved scores of the symphonies 
 and quartets, that have made me spend many a charming hour. I cannot 
 read the papers, nor my letters if the writing is small. So weariness makes 
 me sleep several hours during the day. Nevertheless there is a slight 
 amelioration on one or two points. I can distinguish the features of an 
 unknown face better; I can see the hands of a clock if it is not too far 
 from my eyes — things that I could not do six months ago. 
 
 If you come abroad during the holidays, do try to spend a few days in 
 Paris with me. I should like to know something of your life, of your 
 concerts, travels, &c. 
 
 Adieu, my friend. Write to me. 
 
 Stephen Heller. 
 2 Heller was losing his sight.
 
 TO GEOEG LICHTENSTEIN, 1885 313 
 
 im eventail qu'une belle interlocutrice avait laisse tomber, 
 s'ecria : ' Oh ! que je regrette mes quatre-vingts ans ! ' Si je 
 devenais aveugle, que je regretterais mes yeux d'aujour- 
 d'hui ! Adieu, ami ; au revoir. 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 LXXXIII 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Grand Hotel, Paris : 
 
 April 17, 1885. 
 
 It does not do to see old friends again, and my visit to 
 X. has made me sad. If I am as much changed in mind and 
 body as he, I ought to be locked up. 
 
 Heller looks very old too, but is fresh iu mind, and as 
 pleased as a child to have me here. He consents to the 
 Testimonial, after a hard struggle, so my object is gained, 
 and when I come back we shall set to work at once. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 TO GEORG LICHTENSTEIN 
 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 June 8, 1885. 
 My dear Lichtenstein, — Best thanks for your kind letter. 
 And now, in haste, a few lines about our old friend, Heller. 
 For the past two years he has been almost totally blind. He 
 
 1 [Translation'] 
 
 Paris: March 13, 1885. 
 
 Dear Halle, — . . . My eyes are a little better— alas ! very little. What 
 
 I have just written is before me — pale, effaced, veiled. But I am not 
 
 quite blind, and may God leave me what I have. 'When I think of the 
 
 poor wretches I see at the doctor's, I may well render thanks to God. Ah, 
 
 my friend, however little fortunate one may be, there is always some 
 
 greater misfortune which one has been spared. Everything is relative. 
 
 Fontenelle, at ninety-eight years of age, being unable to pick up a fan 
 
 which a fair lady he was talking to had dropped, cried : ' Oh, how I regret 
 
 my eighty years ! ' If I were to become blind, how I should regret my 
 
 eyes of to-day ! 
 
 Farewell, friend. A u revoir ! 
 
 St. Heller.
 
 311 LETTERS 
 
 sees but a glimmer of light, can find his way in the street, 
 but can no longer work, cannot set down a note on paper, 
 has not a siugle pupil, and is so near want that for the past 
 nine months (with the help of a few friends) 1 have had to 
 support him. 
 
 Ee has now consented to accept a public testimonial, and 
 you will probably in the course of a few days see an appeal 
 from me in the Times, which I shall also send to the Edin- 
 burgh papers. Sir Frederick Leighton, Robert Browning, 
 and I form the committee, but I should like to form a sub- 
 committee in all the principal towns, and with regard to 
 Edinburgh I hope you will give me your aid. 
 
 He has given pleasure to so many that I may hope to 
 collect in all England a sum of 2,000/., which would pur- 
 chase an annuity of 300L Always yours, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 TO THE EDITOR OF THE ' TIMES ' 
 
 Tlie Composer Stephen Heller 
 
 11 Mansfield Street, 
 
 Cavendish Square : June 1885. 
 
 Sir, — A distinguished artist, the eminent composer, 
 Stephen Heller, whose name is a household word to all 
 lovers of music, has been overtaken by a terrible affliction — 
 almost total blindness. His solitary life is darkened, and the 
 pursuit of his art, his only happiness, is henceforth closed to 
 him. 
 
 The sorrow of Mr. Heller's personal friends for the 
 calamity that has befallen him will, I feel sure, be shared by 
 the general public, and I have no hesitation in asking you, 
 sir, to allow me to make it known that it is intended to offer 
 him some more substantial mark of our sympathy, and of the 
 high estimation in which he has always been held among us, 
 than a mere expression of condolence in words. 
 
 A small committee, composed of Sir Frederick Leighton,
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1885 315 
 
 P.R.A., Mr. Robert Browning, and myself, has met to con-" 
 sider what form our testimonial shall take, and it has been 
 decided that, if the necessary funds can be raised, a small 
 annuity shall be purchased for M. Heller, that his declining 
 years may, at all events, be spared the cruelty of any possible 
 pecuniary embarrassments arising from his misfortune. 
 
 So many will doubtless be glad of the opportunity thus 
 afforded to repay, in some measure, their debt of gratitude to 
 Stephen Heller for the pleasure his exquisite music has given 
 them, that we feel confident our appeal will be responded to 
 without further words on ray part, and I have only to add 
 that subscriptions to the ' Heller Testimonial Fund' will be 
 received by Messrs. Coutts, 59 Strand ; by Messrs. Forsyth 
 Brothers, Deansgate, Manchester, and by me. I am, &c, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris: 1 juillet 1885. 
 
 Cher Halle, — ■ . . . Voila ce que je puis te dire au sujetde 
 l'acte de naissance. Je suis ne de parens israelites, qui se sont 
 convertis a la religion catholique lorsque j'avais 12-13 an?, 
 je crois. Je crois etre certain d'etre ne le 15 mai 1813- 
 1814. Mon nom etait Jacob Heller jusqu'au jour ou je devins 
 chretien catholique, et mon nom devenait Stephan (Istvan en 
 hongrois) d'apres le nom de mon parrain qui etait, je crois, le 
 Biirsfermeister de Pesth. 
 
 Le bapteme eut lieu dans le Leopoldstadt (faubourg), a 
 l'eglise de ce quartier. 
 
 J'ignore les prenoms de mon pere avant le bapteme. II 
 s appelait apres Franz Benedict, et il etait, je crois, des ma 
 naissance teneur de livres, ou caissier, dans une fabrique de 
 draps d'un riche israelite, nomme Kanitz. C'est done 
 probablement dans les registres de la commune ou synagogue 
 israelite qu'il faudrait rechercher mon acte de naissance. 
 J'ajoute que j'ignore le nom de famille de ma mere. 
 
 Dr Jacob Heller etait le fils d'un autre frere de mon pere,
 
 316 LETTERS 
 
 plus age que lui. II s'appelait Bernard H. et il etait pro- 
 feaseur de 1 ecole israelite. II etait reste juif, et ne fray ait 
 avec mon pere, ni avec Peter, a cause de la conversion. 
 Ladite veuve J. Heller (Anna) n'est pas d'origine juive. Ce 
 doit etre une excellente personne qui a ete tres bien avec ma 
 Boeur .Marie, morte (celibataire) il y a cinq on six ans. Cette 
 dame a un frere, qui m'a paru dans une certaine circonstance 
 (a la mort de ma soeur) un brave homme et un homme 
 d'ordre. Mine veuve Heller pourra s'adresser a ce frere 
 pour i'affaire. . . • 
 
 Voila tout ce que je puis te dire, clier Halle. Quant au 
 reste. ce que tu me dis est vraiment fort beau. Deja aujour- 
 d'hui avec un peu de travail je pourrais vivre sans soucis et 
 fcracas. Je voudrais te voir delivre de cette pierre d'echoppe- 
 ment qui obstrue la route. 
 
 Ton ami des anciens jours comme des derniers, 
 
 St. Heller. 
 
 J'ajoute un mot. Dans cette confusion je commence a, 
 douter si nous avons ete baptises dans Teglise de Leopoldstadt 
 ou une autre. II me semble que cette eglise etait situee 
 Gottengasse. Je n'etais pas si jeune alors, et j'avais au moins 
 douze ans. Je me rappelle que peu de temps avant cet acte 
 j'ai eu une singuliere conversation avec mon pere. II me 
 raconta les persecutions et la haine des chretiens envers les 
 juifs. Et comme j'exprimais ma compassion il me dit que 
 jY-tais juif moi-meme. Grande fut ma stupefaction. Je n'en 
 savais rien, car rien dans la maison ne le fit soupconner ; dn 
 moins je ne le remarquai pas. Je me mis a pleurer, Mon 
 pere me prit dans ses bras, et me dit, ' Mon Cobi (Jacob), ces 
 mallieurs seront detournes de toi. v Tu deviendras chretien, 
 et nous tous egalement.' Lorsque je fus prepare au bapteme 
 par le cure, il dit a mon pere, ' Votre enfant est ne chretien ; 
 il n ? est imbu d'aucune pensee juive.' C'est mon pere qui 
 m'a raconte cela. Depuis il n'a plus jamais parle de cette 
 episode 'le ma vie. 
 
 Mon unique espoir est maintenant dans les souvenirs de
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1885 317 
 
 ma cousine. Mais ma soeur etait aussi d'une nature absorbee, 
 distraite, et n'ayant pas l'idee de la vie pratique. 1 
 
 ' [ Translation] 
 
 Paris: July 1, 1885. 
 
 Dear HallS, — . . . Here is all I can tell you about the certificate of 
 my birth : I was born of Jewish parents, who were converted to the 
 Catholic religion when I believe I was twelve to thirteen years of age. I 
 believe I can certainly say that I was born on May 15, 1813-1814. My 
 name was Jacob Heller until the day that I became a Catholic, and my 
 name was changed to Stephen (Istvan in Hungarian), after my god- 
 father, who was I believe the Burgomaster of Pesth. 
 
 The baptism took place in the parish church of the Leopoldstadt 
 quarter. 
 
 I do not know what were my father's fore-names before his baptism. 
 Afterwards he was called Francis Benedict, and he was from the time of my 
 birth, I believe, book-keeper or cashier in the cloth-factory of a wealthy 
 Israelite of the name of Kanitz. It will therefore probably be in the parish 
 register or in the Jewish Synagogue that the certificate of my birth must 
 be looked for. I may add that I do not know my mother's family name. 
 
 Dr. Jacob Heller was the son of an elder brother of my father. His 
 name was Bernard Heller, and he was a professor in the Jewish College. 
 He remained a Jew, and held no intercourse with my father, nor with 
 Peter, on account of their conversion. The widow, J. Heller (Anna), you 
 refer to is not of Jewish origin. She must be an excellent person, and was 
 on good terms with my sister Marie, who died (unmarried) rive or six 
 years ago. This lady has a brother, who seemed to me on a certain occa- 
 sion (at my sister's death) to be a good, steady-going man. Madame J. 
 Heller might obtain her brother's help in the matter. . . . 
 
 That is all I can tell you, dear Halle. As to the rest, what you tell me 
 is very satisfactory. Alreadv, with the addition of a little work, it would 
 enable me to live without care or anxiety. I should like to see you free of 
 the stumbling-block that obstructs the way. Your friend now as in times 
 past, 
 
 Stephen Helleb. 
 
 I add another word. In this confusion I begin to doubt whether we 
 were christened in the Leopoldstadt church or in another. I fancy that 
 the church was in the Gottengasse. I was not so young at the time— I was 
 at least twelve years of age. I remember that a short while I efore the 
 ceremony I had a remarkable conversation with my father. He told me 
 of all the persecutions of the Jews by the Christians, and of all their 
 hatred. And when I expressed my compassion, he told me that I was myself 
 a Jew. Great was my stupefaction. I knew nothing of it, and nothing in 
 our home would have made one suspect it— at least, nothing that I had 
 ever remarked. I began to cry. My father took me in his arms and said : 
 ' My CoU (Jacob), these misfortunes will be averted from you. You will 
 become a Christian, and all of us as well.' When I was being prepared for
 
 3 IS LETTERS 
 
 LXXXVII 
 TO GEORG LTCHTENSTEIN 
 ( Translated from the German) 
 
 11 Mansfield Street, London: 
 
 July 7, 1885. 
 
 My dear Lichtenstein,— Pray let me know if you have 
 sent the statement respecting Heller's birth to Pesth, and if 
 your brother, or some one else, will take the matter up in 
 earnest, and if you hope to be able to obtain the certificate. 
 The Testimonial Fund is getting on not at all badly. You 
 wrote that you had received nearly 15?. I have therefore 
 credited you with 14?., which brings my total to 1,392?. 14s., 
 which is sure to reach 1,400?. to-day, so that only some 600?. 
 are still wanting. 
 
 I intend to publish the first list of subscribers in the 
 Times at the end of this week, so kindly send me word by 
 then the exact amount you have received, so that we may 
 make a good show ! 
 
 Next Sunday I go to Hagen for a week to see my sister, 
 and must then come back here in the hope of soon getting 
 the whole thing finished. 
 
 Do your best therefore to get that certificate, or I shall be 
 
 in a pickle ! 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 C. Halle. 
 
 LXXXVIII 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HEELER 
 
 Paris : 20 juillet '85. 
 Cher Halle, — Je suis bien aise d'apprendre que tu n'as 
 pas song€ a t'adresser au publip allemand. Je ne puis 
 t'apprendre rien de nouveau. Je ne puis me souvenir de 
 
 , t he rector, he said to my father, ' Your child is a born Christian ; 
 
 II'- is imbued with no Jewish sentiment whatever.' My father repeated 
 
 ordfl to me. He never again spoke of that episode in my life. 
 
 My only hope now lies in the memory of my cousin. But my sister 
 
 was also of a vague and dreamy nature, and with no idea of the workaday 
 
 hide of life.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1885 319 
 
 choses que je n'ai jamais su. Mon pere ne parlait jamais de 
 ses affaires, et meme je le voyais peu, de sorte que les clioses 
 qui sont cormues dans des families Lieu ordonnees et bien 
 constitutes me sont restees a jamais inconnues. — Je crois 
 etre sur que mon pere s'appelait Ignaee, encore plus que 
 ma mere s'appelait Aloysia et qu'elle abhorrait son nouveau 
 nom de Scliolastique, et nous defendit de la nommer ainsi. 
 Je n'ai aucune souv r enance d'une adoption d'une de mes 
 sceui s par l'oncle Peter. Ni mon pere ni ma mere n etait 
 Hongrois. lis sont venus de la Boheme, et ils etaient ce 
 qu'on appelait cliez nous Deutsch-Bohmen. Leur langue 
 etait l'allemand. Puisqu'on a trouve Ign. et Aloysia, on 
 doit me trouver aussi. 
 
 Pour aujourd'hui je termine. Bientot je t'ecrirai de 
 nouveau, car je no dois pas craindre de te fatiguer. 
 
 Ton St. Heller. 
 
 Peut-etre ne m'a-t-on pas dit la verite sur toutes clioses. 
 L'education et la maniere de traiter les enfants cliez les juifs 
 de l'ancien temps, et notamment dans un pays comme la 
 Hongrie, alors si peu avance, a ete quelque chose dinconce- 
 vable denos jours. Pas d'entretien intime, familial, expansif. 
 Les peres jouaient une maniere de Jehovah ; insondables, 
 mysterieux, taciturnes et toujours prets a punir. Les meres 
 seules etaient douces et tend res envers les enfants. Ainsi 
 etait ma mere. Mais lorsque je jouissais de cet ineffable 
 bonheur d'etre entoure des soins d'un amour maternel, 
 j'etais trop jeune pour les comprendre. L'enfance n'a pas 
 d'entrailles, et elle recompense les bontes sublimes de la mere 
 par une sorte d'ingratitude inconsciente et cruelle dans son 
 enfantillage irresponsable. Lorsque j'arrivai a lage ou je 
 pouvais rendre amour pour amour, je fus arrache des bras de 
 ma mere. 1 
 
 1 [Translation'] 
 
 Paris : July 20, '85. 
 
 Dear Hail£, — I am very glad you did not think of addressing yourself to 
 the German public ... I can tell you nothing fresh. I cannot remember 
 things that I never knew. My father never spoke of his affairs, in fact I
 
 320 LETTERS 
 
 LXXXIX 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris: 28 juillet 18S5. 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Ma plus grande joie etait d'abord de te 
 ir dr-livre de ce cauchemar d'acte de naissance. 1 Puis, 
 en continuant de lire, j'apprends la belle reussite de ton 
 osuvre oeuvre d'amitie, s"il en fut jamais. Comme cela prouve 
 ton influence, ton pouvoir dans ce grand pays, ton activite, 
 mais par-dessu8 tout ton affection pour ton vieux frere d'armes ! 
 Nous avons toujours servi sous le meme drapeau, dans ce 
 qu'on appelle les amies savantes, dans le corps du genie. Je 
 t'en prie, ami, va clore cette oeuvre. . . . Les raisons pour 
 te demander de l'arreter sont : 1° II ne faut en men forcer 
 la note. Le resultat obtenu est tres beau; pourquoi en 
 vouloir un resultat encore plus beau ? Lemieux estl'ennemi 
 
 i-aw him but little. So that matters which are known in well-regulated 
 and well-ordered families, remained for ever unknown to me. I am almost 
 sure that my father's old name was Ignatius, and still more so that my 
 mother's was Aloysia, and that she abhorred her new name — Scholastica — 
 and forbade us ever to use it. I have no recollection of the adoption of 
 one of my sisters by my Uncle Peter. Neither my father nor my mother 
 were Hungarians. They came from Bohemia, and were what is called 
 ch-Bohmen. They spoke German. If they have found Ignatius and 
 Aloysia they ought to find me also. 
 
 That is all for to-day. I shall soon write again as I need have no fear 
 you. Yours, 
 
 St. Helleb. 
 
 Perhaps I was not told the truth about all things. The education 
 
 and the treatment of children among the Jews in those days, and notably 
 
 in a country like Hungary, then so little advanced in civilisation, was 
 
 ' iii ng quite inconceivable nowadays. No sort of intimate, familiar 
 
 family intercourse. The fathers were a kind of Jehovah, inscrutable, 
 
 mysterious, taciturn, and ever ready to punish. The mothers alone were 
 
 c to their children. So was my mother. But when 1 
 
 • d the ineffable happiness of being the object of maternal care and 
 
 I w.i- too young to appreciate it. Childhood is heartless, and it pays 
 
 hack the mother's sublime goodness with a sort of ingratitude that is uncon- 
 
 i cruel in its irresponsible childishness. When I came to the age 
 
 I could return love for love, I was torn from my mother's arms. 
 
 1 My father had had infinite trouble to get the necessary certificate of 
 
 Heller's birth, for the purchase of his annuity.
 
 FROM STEPHEN' HELLER, 1885 321 
 
 da bien, dit un proverbe. 2° Plus la chose va, plus les 
 chances augmentent de voir les journaux franeais et allemands 
 en parler, et en faire des gloses. Cela peut devenir pour 
 quelques reporters d'art un article amusant, cancanier; les 
 uns seront pleins d'une piti6 humiliante, les autres seront 
 malicieux ; ceux-la approuveront, ceux-ci critiqueront, et Us 
 deTendronl lenr opinion. Si chetif que soit mon personnage, 
 un chroniqueur a bout de ressources, un redacteur ou reporter 
 sans theme, ou sans ouvrage, s'empare de tout ce qui peut lui 
 donner matiere d un article ou a un entrefilet. En France 
 on ne comprend guere ce qu'on appelle la-bas un Testimonial, 
 etc. Ici on regardera cela comme une de ces souscriptions 
 quele 'Figaro' ouvre de temps en temps au profit d'un macon 
 tornbe d'un echafaudage. En Allemagne e'est encore pis. 
 
 Je pense que si tu abreges, ou plutot si tu fermes la 
 souscription, que les journaux ne publiant plus rien, on 
 oubliera plus vite. Je tremble a l'idee de ce qu'un journalist e 
 franeais pourra faire de tout cela. Je t'assure que je serais, 
 avec le produit annonce et les quelques appoints cites, par- 
 faitement a l'abri de tout besoin. 
 
 Ton but est done, et dejii, atteint. Assez la-dessus. 
 
 La nouvelle de la mort de Henry Forsyth m'a profonde- 
 ment afflige. C'etait la perle des editeurs. Jamais je n'ai eu 
 affaire a un pareil, et je n'en aurai jamais a un homme sem- 
 blable. II a eu toutes les qualites desirables, et je ne l'ou- 
 blierai jamais. 
 
 Je ne vois plus et je termine, mais j'ecrirai bientot, sans 
 attendre une lettre de toi. J'ai vu ce matin pendant 3 
 minutes seulement, M me D. Je luiai communique le contenu 
 de ta lettre. Elle en a ete profondement touchee, surtout de 
 tes paroles : que de nous deux le plus heureux, e'est toi. 
 
 C'est une noble parole qui doit t'etre comptee ici-bas et 
 la-haut. 
 
 Ton ami, 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris : July 28, 1885. 
 My dear Halle, — My greatest joy was to learn that you were delivered 
 
 Y
 
 LETTERS 
 
 XC 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris: 7 aout 1885. 
 Cher ITalle, — Tu as le don de me rassurer, tache difficile, 
 j'en conviens, cm tu reussis admirablement. Ainsi dormirais- 
 
 fr.-mi that nightmare of a certificate. 1 Then, on reading further, I sawthe 
 result <>f your lab mr, a labour of friendship, if ever there was one. 
 Bow it proves your influence, your power in that great country, your 
 activity, but above all your affection for your old brother-in-arms ! We 
 have always served under the same flag, in what may be called the scien- 
 tific branch of the service — the engineers. Now I pray you, friend, bring 
 good work to a close . . . The reasons why I beg you to stop are : 1st, 
 a thing must never be overdone. The result obtained is very good ; why 
 endeavour to improve upon it ? The proverb says : Le mieux est Vennemi 
 ilu Wen. 2nd, the longer the thing lasts, the greater the chance that 
 the French and German papers will get hold of it and make their com- 
 ments. It might become for some art-reporters the subject of an amusing, 
 >y article ; some would be full of humiliating compassion ; others 
 would be malicious, some would approve, others would criticize, and all 
 would defend their opinions. However insignificant a personage I may be, 
 a chronicler at the end of his resources, an editor or a reporter in want of 
 a subject or in want of work, lays hold of whatever may furnish him with 
 ;in article or a paragraph. In France, what you call a testimonial, &c, is 
 hardly understood. Here it would be looked upon like one of those sub- 
 scriptions opened from time to time in the Figaro, in aid of a stonemason 
 is fallen from a scaffolding. In Germany it is far worse. 
 
 I think that if you curtail, or rather if you close the subscription list at 
 once, if the papers publish nothing more, it will be the sooner forgotten. I 
 tremble at the thought of what a French journalist might make of it all. 
 1 assure you that with the sum announced, and the small additions quoted, 
 I should be perfectly sheltered from want. 
 
 Your object is therefore attained. Enough thereon. 
 
 The news of Henry Forsyth's death afflicted me profoundly. He was 
 the pearl of publishers. I never had to do with his equal, and I shall never 
 with such another man. He had every desirable quality, and I shall 
 never forget him. 
 
 I can no longer see and must stop,, but I shall soon write again, with- 
 out waiting for a letter from you. I saw Madame D. for three minutes 
 .■norning, and I gave her the contents of your letter. She was pro- 
 foundly touched, especially by your words : that of us two, the happier is 
 
 elf. 
 
 It was a noble saying, which will be repaid you here and hereafter. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 Stephen Heller. 
 
 ' Of Heller's birth, for the purchase of his annuity.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 18S5 323 
 
 je Bur les deux oreilles, corame tu le dis, si je netais antre- 
 ment empeche par des raisons de sante. Mais rien n'est plus 
 ennuyeux pour soi et pour les autres que de parler de 
 maux, dont, du reste, personne n'est entitlement exempt. 
 
 Tu m'aa fait bien rire en me demandant si je suis hut 
 d'etre no. Par le ciel, e'est a en douter. Je pense avec 
 commiseration aux recherches laborieuses du biographe futur 
 pour fixer dSfinitivement la date de ma naissance, comme cela 
 s'est vu pour d autres grands hommes ! Tu es tr&s occupS 
 en ce moment, done je ne t'ecris que ces quelques lignes. Je 
 me reserve le droit de t'ecrire quand j'aurai besoin de 
 m'epancher dans un cocur fraternel. Mais je ne te tracasserai 
 pas. Je causerai avec toi, car je n'ai personne qui me com- 
 prend. Hiller me disait un jour : ' Personne ne comprend 
 personne.' C'est un peu pessimiste. 
 
 A bientut. Ton 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 XCI 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris : 30 septembre 1885. 
 Mon cher Halle, — Je ne m'attendais pas de si tot t, une 
 lettre de toi, pensant bien qu'apivs une longue absence et a 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris : August 7, 1885. 
 
 Dear Hall6, — You have the gift of reassuring me, a difficult task, I 
 allow, but one in which you succeed admirably. Therefore I should sleep 
 on both ears, as you say, were I not prevented from doing so by reasons of 
 health. But nothing is more tedious to oneself and to others than to talk 
 of one's ailments, from which, in leed, no one is wholly exempt. 
 
 You made me laugh by asking me if I am sure that I was ever born ? 
 By Heaven, one might doubt it. I think with commiseration of the" 
 laborious researches of my future biographer to establish the date of my 
 birth, as has happened before in the case of other great men! You are 
 very busy at present, so I shall only write a few lines. I reserve the right 
 to write to you whenever I feel the need of unbosoming myself to a frater- 
 nal soul. But I shall not tease you. I shall chat with you, for I have no 
 one here who understands me. Hiller once said to me : ' No one under- 
 stands any one.' That is somewhat pessimistic. 
 
 Farewell for the present, 
 
 Yours, 
 
 St. Heller. 
 
 y 2
 
 324 LETTERS 
 
 la veille de grands concerts tu serais bien absorbe par mille 
 Boins a6ceasaires. Le plaisir de recevoir de tes nouvelles a 
 done etc d'autant plus grand. Tes occupations ne font pas 
 einpeehe de penser a ton ami. 
 
 Ton si'jour a etc une vraie joie pour moi ; l'amitie, l'affec- 
 tion et la satisfaction de l'artiste ont egalement trouve leur 
 compte. Tout ce que tu nous a fait entendre, a moi et a 
 madame D., reste dans nos souvenirs comme une des plus 
 parfaites manifestations d'un art accompli. Madame D. en 
 parle a tout le monde. Moi, jecoute, et je me dis : je sais 
 tout cela depuis bien longtemps ! Conserve encore bien des 
 annees cette force et ce pouvoir, e'est mon vceu, et cela sera, 
 car tu aimes l'art, et rien n'a pu entamer on amoindrir en toi 
 cette noble passion. Ainsi tu joueras prochainement mon 
 petit opuscule. Ce n'est pas pour toi, e'est pour moi que je 
 prierai. Quant a, ' l'affaire,' tout est bien, ce que tu as fait, ce 
 que tu fais et ce que tu feras. Je serai desormais a l'abri de 
 tout souci. Je me donnerai, avec l'aide de Dieu, le petit supple- 
 ment qu'il me faut, et qui achevera ce que Horace appelle si 
 judicieusement la mediocrite doree. C'est tout ce que desirait 
 ce sage immortel, et ce que je me permets de desirer a mon 
 tour. Tu me promets une visite pour le mois de mars. C'est 
 une longue echeance. C'est le cas de dire : qui vivra, verra. 
 
 J'espere vivre et te revoir. Je te serre la main et je suis 
 ton ami, St. Heller. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris : Sept. 30, 1885. 
 
 My dearllall6, — I did not expect a letter from yeu so soon, knowing 
 that after a lon^ absence and on the eve of great concerts you would be 
 absorbed by a thousand necessary cares. The pleasure of receiving news 
 of yon was therefore all the greater. Your occupations did not hinder 
 you from thinking of your friend. Your visit was a real joy to me ; friend- 
 ship, affection, and the satisfaction of the artist, were all equally contented. 
 Everything that you made Madame D. and me hear remains in our memory 
 U • tc of the most perfect manifestations of accomplished art. Madame 
 D. talks of it to everybody. I listen, and I say to myself : I knew all that 
 long ago ! May you long preserve that power and that ability, that is my 
 piajer, and you will do so, because you love your art, and nothing has ever 
 \ een ftblfl to weaken or diminish that noble passion. So you are soon 
 going to play my little work. It is not for you, but for myself, that I
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1885 325 
 
 XCII 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Taris: 8 octobre 1885. 
 
 Mon cher Hallo, — Merci de ta bonne lettre ; je m'empre.sse 
 de t'annoncer que le tout est arrive a bon port. L'appoint 
 que tu m'envoies sera bien venu pour boucher les petites 
 breches ouvertes par certaines depenses d'hiver, telle que le 
 vulgaire bois de chauffage, objets de literie, vetements chauda 
 et autres articles qui nous rappellent les conditions de l'ex- 
 istence matcrielle et triviale. 
 
 Trivial tant qu'on voudra, il est bon de ne pas grelotter et 
 de faire reparer des cheminees qui fument et que le pro- 
 prietaire, animal cruel et avare par etat, refuse de prendre a 
 son compte. Je ne sais pourquoi je me souviens en ce 
 moment d'une quittance drolatique que le diresteur d'une 
 j\Jaison des Pauvres avait adressee a un donateur de cette 
 maison. La voici : ' Mit dankbaren Herzen bescheinige ich 
 hiennit, dass ich von Ihnen erlialten habe 8 Bettdecken, 
 12 Paar wollene Striimpfe, und 9 Paar Stiefeln, mit welchen 
 wieder viele Thranen getrocknet worden sincl.' 
 
 Je suis bien content que l'impromptu a plu ; es hat 
 ausgesjprochen, comme disait Rob. Volkmann quand il parlait 
 d'une execution d'un de ces morceaux. 
 
 Oui, c'etaient la de bonnes heures que nous avons passe le 
 mois dernier. Je me sens depuis porte pour le travail. Une 
 grande jouissance musicale produit toujours cet effet sur moi. 
 Les grandes exhibitions de celebres gymnastiques du piano 
 
 shall pray. As to the 'affair,' everything is right, what you have done, 
 
 what you are doing, and what you will do. I shall henceforth be shell 
 from all anxiety. With the help of God, I can give myself the trifling 
 supplement to complete what Horace so judiciously calls a golden 
 mediocrity. That was all that wise immortal sighed for, and in my turn, 
 it is all that I desire. 
 
 You promise me a visit in the month of March. The date is a late one 
 It is really a case of saying : he who lives will see. 
 
 I hope to live and to see you again. I press your hand and I am your 
 friend, 
 
 St. Hklleb.
 
 326 LETTERS 
 
 me laissent froid corame les melodrames des theatre-, du 
 Boulevard, qui font verser a un public iuculte des torrents de 
 
 larmes. 
 
 Moi, je suia emu et ravi d'une belle scene, simple, 
 naturelle, qui est puisee dans le coeur, et rendue avec art. 
 
 a | esl celni qui me touclie, qui m'emeut. C'est ce que 
 j'ai senti quand tu as joue Beethoven, Chopin, Brahms et 
 Schubert. 
 
 Je te serre la main et t'envoie mille amities. 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 XCIII 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris : 8 novembre 1885. 
 Mon cher Halle, — Je m'empresse de t'annoncer que j'ai 
 recu une lettre d'une maison de banque, qui a evidemment 
 
 ' [Translation] 
 
 Paris: October 8, 1885. 
 
 My dear Halle,— Thanks for your good letter. I hasten to announce 
 that everything came safely to hand. The remittance you sent will serve 
 to stop many little gaps made by certain winter expenses, such as the 
 vulgar firewood, bedding, warm clothing, and other articles that remind us 
 of the conditions of material and trivial existence. 
 
 Trivial it may be, but it is good not to shiver and to be able to cure a 
 smoky chimney, which the landlord, a cruel and rapacious animal by 
 nature, refuses to repair. I do not know why I am reminded at this 
 moment of a comical receipt addressed by the master of a poorhouse to a 
 benefactor. Here it is : 'With a grateful heart I beg to acknowledge your 
 gift of eight blankets, twelve pairs of worsted stockings, and nine pairs of 
 boots, with which many tears will once again be wiped away.' 
 
 I am very glad the impromptu pleased ; it spoke out, as Rob. Volkmann 
 used to say in speaking of the execution of his works. 
 
 Yes, those were famous hours we spent together last month. Since then 
 I have felt impelled to work. A vivid musical pleasure always produces 
 that effect upon me. The great exhibitions of certain celebrated gymnasts 
 of the piano leave me as unmoved as do the melodramas at the theatres of 
 the Boulevards, which cause an uncultivated public to shed torrents of 
 
 As for me, I am moved and ravished by a fine scene, simple, natural, 
 sprung from the heart, and rendered with art. That is what I felt when 
 : played Beethoven, Chopin, Brahms, and Schubert. 
 I press your hand and 1 send you a thousand greetings. 
 
 St. Heller.
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1885 327 
 
 trait a, la rente attendue. Je copie la lettre pour toi, afin 
 de te faire connaitre le style financier en usage. ' MM. 
 Seilliere, Banquiers, 58 Rue de Provence, avisent M. S. Heller 
 qu'ils ont recu de MM. Coutts de Londres un credit en sa 
 faveur.' Cette litterature n'est peut-etre pas exquise, mais 
 eile ne manque pas de cbarme. Je suis trop indispose 
 aujourd'hui et je me rendrai demain, lundi, chez ces 
 messieurs. Je crois me rappeler que tu devais monter le 
 'Mors et Vita' de Gounod. Dis-nioi a, l'occasion si ton im- 
 pression premiere ne s'est point modifiee depuis. Je te dis 
 adieu pour aujourd'hui. Porte-toi bien et penses quelquefois 
 a ton ami et frere. 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 XCIV 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris : 24 decembre 1885. 
 Mon cher, bien cher ami, — Non pas a cause du Jour du 
 Nouvel An que je t'envoie ces lignes. II n'y a pas de jour 
 ou je n'aie une bonne pensee pour toi. Je desire pour toi 
 toutes les prosperites, toutes les satisfactions du corps et de 
 1'ame. Eeussis en tout ce que tu fais, et sois toujours 
 entoure d'amis affectueux, sinceres, intelligents et aimables. 
 Je sais que c'est beaucoup demander a la vie. Mais, que je 
 voudrais, que je voudrais que ce lot te soit echu ! 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Paris: November 8, 1885. 
 
 My dear Halle, — I hasten to announce that I have received a letter 
 from a bank, that evidently refers to the expected annuity. I copy the 
 letter so as to make you acquainted with the financial style in vogue. 
 ' Messrs. Seilliere, Bankers, 58 Rue de Provence, advise M. S. Heller that 
 they have received from Messrs. Coutts, of London, a credit in his favour.' 
 This literature may not be exquisite, but it is not wanting in charm. I am 
 too ill to go to-day, but I hope to visit these gentlemen to-morrow, Monday. 
 I think I remember that you were to give Gounod's 'Mors et Vita.' When 
 you have an opportunity, tell me if your first impression has not been 
 modified. Farewell for to-day. Keep well, and sometimes think of your 
 friend and brother, ST. Hkllee,
 
 328 LETTERS 
 
 Je to Berre la main et je reste jusqu'a mon dernier souffle 
 ami, dans toute l'etendue de ce grand mot : un ami. 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 XCV 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris : 3 Janvier 1886. 
 Cher Hall6,— Tu n'as besoin de nulle excuse de ne pas 
 m'ecrire plus souvent. Je sais que tu es au feu, devant 
 I'ennemi : je veux dire, devant le public, monstre insatiable 
 et impitoyable, qui veut satisfaire ses appetits et ses glouton- 
 neries pour l'argent qu'il donne. Cela demande un grand 
 Boin, et beaucoup de temps. J'ai eu un veritable plaisir 
 d'apprendre que tu as joue la canzonette en mi bemol. II 
 v a de bonnes choses, il y en a que j'aurais mieux faites 
 plus tard. Je crois qu'il y a beaucoup d'auteurs dans le 
 menae cas. L'imagination est peut-etre plus fraiclie et plus 
 bardie lorsqu'on est jeune. Le gout, le discernement, l'ex- 
 perience s'acquierent avec les annees. Les deux choses 
 reunies produisent les ceuvres parfaites. 
 
 36 ton projet de venir a Paris au printemps se 
 rcaliser. 
 
 Ton meilleur ami, 
 
 St. Heller. 2 
 
 1 ^Translation'] 
 
 Paris: December 24, 1885. 
 My dear, very dear Friend, — It is not because of New Year's Day that 
 I am - i ding you these few lines. Never a day goes by but thatl have a 
 kindly thought of you. I wish you every prosperity, every satisfaction of 
 and body. May you succeed in all you undertake, and be ever sur- 
 rounded by affectionate, sincere, intelligent, and amiable friends. I know 
 this is asking a good deal from life; but I wish— how I wish ! — that this 
 be allotted you ! 
 I press your hand, and I remain, until my latest breath, your friend, in 
 all the compass of that great word — a friend. 
 
 St. Helleb. 
 7 [Translation] 
 
 Paris: January 3, 1886. 
 I'- :>r Hull'', — You need no excuse for not writing oftener. I know that 
 B re under fire, before the enemy — I mean before the public; an in-
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1886 329 
 
 XCVI 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris: 3 avril 188G. 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Je te remercie bien de m'avoir si tot 
 donne de tes nouvelles. Je me disais bien que tu aurais 
 une mauvaise traversi'e, le jour etait affreux. II faut que tu 
 sois vraiment ne marin, pour ne pas avoir etc malade. 
 
 Oui, cY'taient quelques jours charmants, qui me laisse- 
 ront encore pendant longtemps des souvenirs pleins de s§renite" 
 et de bien-ctre. Tu etais, ou tu paraissais, cette fois an vrai 
 flaneur, sans affaires, sans souci, sans preoccupation. Tes 
 flaneries rtaient non aux Boulevards mais Hue des Martyrs, 
 cliez ton vieil ami, et tu y apportais la plus affectueuse et la 
 plus aimable humeur qu'un ami et un malade peuvent desirer. 
 Je n'oublierai pas non plus les deux Sonates que tu as dit 
 avec une admirable perfection, reconnue merae par une 
 adepte aussi enthousiaste que partiale de Rubinstein. Tout 
 le monde ne voit pas ce qu'il peut y avoir de faux rubis et 
 de fausses perles dans une parure liabilement et ingenieuse- 
 ment montee. 
 
 Moi, je demande la simplicity, la siucerite et la verite 
 dans une ceuvre d'art, et dans Interpretation artistique de 
 quel genre qu'elle soit. Cette verite et cette serenite je les 
 trouve dans ta maniere de jouer Beethoven. 
 
 Tu es plus libre en disant les maitres modernes, et en 
 cela encore je te donne raison. lis ne sont pas aussi surs de 
 ce qu'ils out fait que les anciens. On peut — avec tact et 
 
 satiable and merciless monster that insists upon satisfying its appetiti 
 its gluttony for the money it pays. This Lives much trouble, and takes 
 time. I learnt with real pleasure that you had played the canzonet in 
 V. il.it. There are some good things in it; there are some that I should 
 have done better later. I think many authors are in the same case. 
 imagination is perhaps fresher and bolder in youth. Taste, discernment, 
 and experience come with years. The two united achieve perfection. 
 May your project of coming- to Paris in the spring be realised. 
 
 Your best friend, 
 
 St. Hei.leb.
 
 330 LETTERS 
 
 mesnre— un pen lea accommoder a sa propre individuality 
 C'e8t ce que tu faia, et je t'approuve. 
 
 On commence an peu a gouailler tout le bruit ridicule 
 qu'ou a lair du grand Ex-virtuose. 1 II parait qu'il a joue 
 chez Erardcomme un enfant, mais qu'on y a tout de meme 
 rSpandu des larmes dattendrissement. Le public parisien 
 mence a rire de lui-meme, car le vrai caractere du 
 Parisien est frondeur. II aime d'abord le fracas, les arcs de 
 triomphe, les transparenta et puis il eteint tout, en soufflant 
 mota les plus mordants et souvent tres justes dans leur 
 cruaute. Le dieu d'hier n'est bientot qu'un pantin dont il 
 B'amue • a c eur joie. Adieu pour aujourd'hui. 
 
 Je suis tou jours ton 
 
 St. Heller. 2 
 
 1 Liszt. 
 
 - [Translation] 
 
 Paris : April 3, 1886. 
 My dear Halle,— I thank you for so speedily sending me news of your- 
 I expected you to have a bad crossing, the weather was frightful. 
 Y'.u must be a born sailor not to have been ill. 
 
 Xes, those were charming days, and have left a serene and lasting 
 
 memory behind them. You were, or you seemed to be this time, a true 
 
 ty-maker, without, business, care, or preoccupation. But you did not 
 
 pleasure on the Boulevards but in the Street of Martyrs, with 
 
 your old friend ; and you brought him the most affectionate and the most 
 
 -le humour that a friend and a sick man could desire. Nor shall I 
 
 • the two sonatas which you rendered with admirable perfection, 
 
 even by a disciple of Rubinstein, as enthusiastic as she is 
 
 partial It is not every one who can see how many false rubies and sham 
 
 - i here may be in a set of jewels cleverly and ingeniously mounted. 
 
 I ask for simplicity, sincerity, and truth in a work of art, and in its 
 
 • interpretation, in whatever style it maybe. This truth and this 
 
 aity I find in your playing of Beethoven. 
 
 You are freer in your rendering of the modern masters, and there again 
 ee with you. They are not so sure of what they have done as the 
 ancients. One may — with tact and within due limits — bend them a little 
 to one's own individuality. This you do, and here again I am with you 
 
 iegin to mock at all the ridiculous fuss that has been made over 
 
 ran 1 ex-virtuoso. It seems he played like a child at Erard's, and 
 
 • with emotion. The Parisian public is beginning to laugh 
 
 elf, for the true character of your Parisian is to jeer. He begins by 
 
 a tumult, triumphal arches and illuminations, and then he extin- 
 
 all by giving vent to the most biting words, often very accurate
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1886 331 
 
 XCVII 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris: jeudi, 15 avril 1886. 
 
 Mon clier Halle, — Rien qu'un petit bonjour que j'ai envie 
 de fc'envoyer. J'espere que tu es bien portant et de bonne et 
 belle humeur, comme tu l'as etc a Paris. 
 
 De ma sante — rien de nouveau a dire. 
 
 1 >'apr6s quelques reclames dans les journaux francais notre 
 grand Roy Francois Liszt jouit la-bas des mercies triomphes 
 et ovations qu'a Paris. II a eu cependant a essuyer quelques 
 observations dans certains journaux parisieus qui manquaient 
 complement de respect, et qu'on pourrait qualifier comme 
 offuscantes. Francisque Sarcey notainment l'a rudement 
 rnalmene et l'appelle un banquiste ! C'est dur de passer ainsi 
 de l'apotheose a la Roche Tarpeienne ! 
 
 Mais notre vieux fou tombe de cette roche sur ses pieds 
 comme les chats ; il en peut etre un peu etourdi, et brille peu 
 apres de tout leclat de son genie tapageur et extravagant. 
 
 Je voudrais que tu me dises quelque chose sur tout cela. 
 
 Adieu, cher ami ; je te serre les mains. 
 
 Ton vieux 
 
 Stephen Heller. 1 
 
 in their cruelty. The god of yesterday speedily becomes nothing more 
 than a puppet with which he amuses himself to his heart's content. 
 
 Adieu for to-day. 
 
 Ever your 
 
 St. Helleb. 
 
 1 \_Trandation~) 
 
 Paris : Thursday, April 15, 1886. 
 
 My dear Halle, — I only want to wish you good-day. I hope you are 
 well, and in tin- same good and happy mood as when you were in Paris. 
 
 As to my health — nothing new to say. 
 
 According to some of the accounts in the French papers, our great 
 monarch, Francois Liszt, is enjoying the same triumphs and ovations with 
 you that he 'lid in Paris. Nevertheless, lie had to endure certain observa- 
 tions in some of the Paris papers that were altogether wanting in respect,; and 
 might even be qualified a^ stinging. Francisque Sarcey, for one, mauled 
 him rudely, and called him a charlatan. It is hard to pass thus from 
 apotheosis to the Tarpeian Rock !
 
 32 LETTERS 
 
 oo_ 
 
 XCVIII 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris : 3 aout 1886. 
 
 Cher TIalK'. — Je suis bien content davoir de tes nouvelles. 
 
 Je vis maintenant du souvenir de ces jours que j'ai passes 
 
 toi. lis out ete bien charmants! Nous avons bien 
 
 caus£, et tu paraissais d'une humeur tres heureuse. Je ne 
 
 i j'en avais l'apparence ; mais, crois le bien, j'ai ete bien 
 
 coutent. bien satisfait et bien heureux. 
 
 Tu as soif apres le piano, dis-tu. Eh bien, c'est une sen- 
 Batdon deiicieuse, si on peut l'etancher, bien entendu. Tu le 
 pens, et tu sais preparer ce breuvage divin qui te rafraichit, 
 le ivconforte, et que tu serviras a ceux qui eprouvent aussi 
 noble soif. Soule-toi done de bonne et belle musique, et 
 verse -en de copieuses rasades a tes amis. 
 
 Voila done ce pauvre Liszt disparu a son tour de ce monde, 
 qui lui a offert des jouissances, faites pour satisfaire les 
 ambitions et les appetits les plus robustes. Que la paix soit 
 avec lui, qui n'a rien tant aime que le bruit ! 
 
 Notre petit cenacle du petit Vefour regrette ton 
 absence. . . . 
 
 Mille choses affectueuses, 
 
 St. Heller. 
 
 Je t'envoie deux volumes de Guy de Maupassant, ou tu trou- 
 
 - jilusieurs contes remarquables. On peut beaucoup avoir 
 
 lire de son choix de sujets, et de son trop grand penchant 
 
 pi xir les choses scabreuses. Mais c'est une riche organisation ; 
 
 un talent puissant et original, un conteur de premier ordre. 1 
 
 But our old madman falls from the rock on his feet, like a cat — he may 
 be Btnnned for a moment, but shines again directly in all the effulgence of 
 sy and extravagant genius. 
 J wiah you would tell me a little about it all. 
 Adieu, dear friend, I press your hands. 
 
 Your old 
 
 St. Helleb. 
 [Translation"] 
 
 Paris: August 3, 1886. 
 Dear Halle,— I am very glad to have news of you. I live upon the re-
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1887 333 
 
 XCIX 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 I'ari> : IB mars 1887. 
 
 Cher Hall6, — Je suis bien content tie recevoir de tes 
 nouvelles, mais, com me tu le penses, bien affligS, bien peine* 
 de la nouvelle de la mort de ce bon et excellent Hecht. 1 Ob, 
 oui ! tu as raison ; qu'est-ce la vie de cette terre ! 
 
 Je comprends ton embarras de chef d'orchestre, t'fant 
 privr de la collaboration d'un second aussi intelligent et 
 di'vout'' epic lVtait le regrettable Hecht. Je lui aurais predit 
 une longue vie, nne verte vieillesse. II ctait fort, il ctait gai, 
 actif, aimant la vie, le travail, et dans une position aisee, a ce 
 qu'on m'a dit. Pauvre femme ! pauvres enfants ! Ah ! je suis 
 bien afflige de cette mort, comme de celle de Forsyth, que 
 j'estimais de tout mon coeur. J'ai connu deux editeurs (race 
 que j'abhorre, car j'en ai connu un grand nombre de veritables 
 malfaiteurs) que je porte au cceur. C'etait Forsyth, et c'est 
 
 membrance of the days that I spent with you. They were very charming. 
 We had some good talk, and you seemed in a very happy humour. I do 
 not know if I appeared so, but, believe me, I was very content, very well 
 satisfied, and very happy. 
 
 You say you have a thirst for the piano. Well, it is a delightful sensa- 
 tion, if one can quench it, that is to say. You can do so, and you know 
 how to prepare this divine beverage which refreshes and revives you, and 
 which you can pour out for those who feel the same noble thirst. Inebriate 
 yourself well, therefore, with good and beautiful music, and serve copious 
 bumpers of it to your friends. 
 
 So poor Liszt, in his turn, has disappeared from this world, which had 
 offered him joys enough to satisfy the most robust ambitions and desires. 
 May he rest in peace, who loved nothing so well as noise and tumult. 
 
 Our little circle at the ' Petit Vefour ' regrets your absence. 
 
 A thousand affectionate greetings, 
 
 St. Heller. 
 
 I send you two volumes of Guy de Maupassant, wherein you will find 
 several remarkable stories. One may find much to object to in his choice 
 of subjects, and in his predilection for doubtful topics, but his is a rich 
 o r ganisation, a powerful and original talent ; he is a story-teller of the first 
 rank. 
 
 1 Mr. Edward Hecht, for many years my father's cborus-master and 
 intimate friend.
 
 334 LETTERS 
 
 Edwin Ashdown, un brave et genereux homme, un homme 
 d'esprit et de cocur, sans aticune affectation de bienfaiteur et 
 de K'nisseur, mais qui agit bien et grandement, sans phrases. 
 
 Je ne Buis pas sorti de ma cliambre depuis les premiers 
 jours de Janvier. Tu jugeras, d'apres cela, combien je suis 
 Boufirant pour rompre ainsi toutes mes habitudes. Que je 
 i lieu re ux de te re voir, et de re-entendre cette voix si 
 amicale, si connue, si liee a toute ma vie passee et presente ! 
 Je n'ai pas bien saisi le passage de ta lettre oli il est question 
 de l'Kxposition Anglaise. Est-ce que cela augmentera oil 
 diminuera ton activite ? Prends-tu part a la musique officielle 
 d<-s (fetes, ou jouiras-tu des loisirs d'une interruption de tes 
 travaux habituels, en te tenant eloigne des productions 
 gouvemementales avec grosses caisses, tambours et panaches 
 niilitaires et civils ? 
 
 On dit ici des merveilles de la Symphonie en sol mineur 
 de Saint-Saens. Elle a ete jouee a Londres, je crois. Qu'en 
 Bais-tu ? On Ta executee trois fois au Conservatoire avec un 
 succrs d'enthousiasme, et declaree son chef-d'oeuvre. 
 
 Assez bavarde. Porte-toi bien ; conserve ta bonne humeur 
 — cela vaut mieux que les visites et les remedes des plus 
 grands medecins. 
 
 Ton invariable ami pour toujours, St. Heller. 1 
 
 i [Translation] 
 
 Paris: March 15, 1887. 
 Dear Hall6, — I am very glad to have news of you, but, as you can 
 imagine, very much grieved, deeply pained to hear of the death of that 
 good and excellent Hecht. Ah, yes ! you are right : what is this earthly 
 life ? 
 
 I can understand your embarrassment as a conductor at being deprived 
 
 intelligent and devoted a collaborator as was the regretted Hecht. 
 
 I shouM have predicted for him a long life, a green old age. He was 
 
 Strong, cheerful, active, fond of his life, of his work, and in fair circum- 
 
 - I have heard. Poor wife ! poor children ! Ah ! 1 am much 
 
 bed by this death, as I was by that of Forsyth, whom I esteemed with 
 
 all my heart. I have known two publishers (a race which I abhor, for I 
 
 known many who were real malefactors) for whom I have a warm 
 
 _'. Oik- was Forsyth, the other is Edwin Ashdown, a good and 
 
 : us man, a man of heart and intellect, with no affectation of being a
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER, 1887 335 
 
 C 
 
 FROM TIIE SAME 
 
 Paris: 30 mai 1887. 
 
 Mon cher Halle, — Rien qu'un petit bonjour, parce que je 
 me sens unpeu mieux ce matin, ayant Oir si souffrant la nuit 
 pass6e. Alors, se retrouvant encore debout, respirant, man- 
 geant un pen, buvant, lisant le journal, on a ressaisi le senti- 
 ment de la vie ; la petite flamme, tout a l'heure si faible, s'est 
 ranimee — on est heureux . . . tant l'homme tient a la vie et 
 a ses sensations. Ton aimable fils m'a envoye une photo- 
 graphie de mon portrait. Madame D. en est enchantee. Elle 
 trouve bien du talent a ton fils, et moi aussi. . . . 
 
 II aurait fallu mettre en bas : ' Photographie d'apres un 
 portrait de Ch. Halle fils,' et mon nom. Je Faurais donnt' a 
 Brandus et a Hamelle pour l'exposer a leur vitrine. r J'u es 
 maintenant dans le coup de feu. J'aurais voulu etre a tes 
 cot6s. Amities. St. Hellek. 1 
 
 benefactor or a patron, but dealing fairly and liberally, without unnecessary 
 talk. 
 
 I have not been out of my room since the early days of January. You 
 can judge how ill I must be thus to break off all my habits. How happy 
 I should be to see you and to hear your friendly voice again, so well known, 
 so bound up with my past and present life I I did not quite understand 
 the passage in your letter referring to the English Exhibition. Will it 
 increase or diminish your activity? Are you going to take part in the 
 official music of the fetes, or will you enjoy the leisure of an interruption 
 of your habitual labours, by holding aloof from official functions, with their 
 big drums, kettle drums, and civil and military pageants ? 
 
 (ireat things are said hereof Saint-Saens' Symphony in G minor. It 
 has been given in London, I bel eve. What do you know about it.' It 
 was played three times at the Conservatoire with enthusiastic success, and 
 declared to be bis masterpiece. 
 
 Enough chatter. Keep well ; preserve your cheerful humour. It is 
 worth more than the vis : ts and prescriptions of the greatest doctors. 
 
 Your ever faithful friend, St. Hellee. 
 
 ' [Translation] 
 
 Paris: May 30, 1887. 
 
 My dear Halle,— I wish you good morning, feeling a little better after 
 a very bad night. So, finding oneself still erect, still alive, eating a little, 
 drinking a little, able to read the paper, one takes hold of life again ; the 
 little flame, so feeble just now, revives again. One feels happy ... so
 
 330 LETTERS 
 
 CI 
 
 FROM STEPHEN HELLER 
 
 Paris : 8 juillet 1887. 
 
 Cher Hall6 } — Que fais-tu? Que deviens-tu ? Toujours 
 dans la musique jusqu'au coa ? Que Dieu te conserve telle 
 puissance de travail, ear c'est un grand bonlieur si ce n'esfc 
 en nu'ine temps une necessite. La chaleur ici est intense ; 
 j'en souffre moins, car je ne sors pas, etant toujours confine 
 ehez moi, et force a l'irnmobilite. 
 
 Qaand tu auras le temps, le loisir, la disposition, tu 
 m'ecriras quelques notes sur ta vie, sur tes affaires, sur tes 
 projets. Peut-etre meme viendras-tu passer un jour ou deux 
 9 Paris; alors j'apprendrai de vive voix ce qui m'interesse 
 tant de savoir. 
 
 Le pauvre L. Couppey est parti de ce monde. II a ete 
 un tres grand ami et propagateur de ma musique. II n'avait 
 pas d'Sleve, ni de petit eleve, ni d'arriere-petit eleve (il 
 comptait des generations d'eleves) qui ne connut une grande 
 partie de mes ouvrages. Mais nous ne nous voyions que deux 
 ou trois fois par annee, et nous n'avions aucune relation qu'on 
 peut qualifier d'intime ou d'amicale. 
 
 C'est 1 inverse d'autres qui sont des vrais amis, intimes, 
 serviables, affectueux et sympathiquement devoues a ma 
 personne, et qui sont indifferents, froids et muets pour 
 l'artiste, c'est-a-dire pour ses ceuvres. 
 
 Ainsi va le monde. II y a des choses excellentes, mais 
 rien n'est complet ni parfait. J'attends l'autre monde. Je 
 
 closely does man cling to life and to its sensations Your amiable son has 
 
 ■ ■ a photograph of my portrait. Madame D. was delighted with it. 
 
 sees great talent in your son, and so do I. . . . 
 
 It should have been inscribed : ' Photograph of a portrait by Charles 
 
 . the younger,' and my name. I should have given it to Brandus and to 
 
 Hamelle to show in their shop-windows. You are now in the heat of battle. 
 
 Would I were by your side. Yours, 
 
 Stephen Heli.ee.
 
 FROM STEPTIEX HELLER, 18R7 337 
 
 m'y nchemine en tapinois, et avec une curiosite un peu 
 craintive. . . . 
 
 Ton fidele 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 CII 
 
 FROM THE SAME 
 
 Paris: aout 188 
 Cher ami, — Que je suis heureux de te savoir si bien 
 installe, si content dn pays 2 que tu luibites en ce moment, 
 et que tout cela semble te donner une serenito d'esprit, et un 
 bien-c-tre physique qui se trahit clairement dans ta lettre. 
 Quant a moi, je ne puis pas te parler des frais ombrages et 
 des brises fortifiantes de la mer ; elles font defaut a la rue de 
 Laval, et il y en a encore moins rue Victor Masse. 3 II y a 
 
 1 [Translatioii] 
 
 Paris : July 8, 1887. 
 Dear Hall6, — What are you doing ? "What has become of you ? Still 
 up to the neck in music ? May God long preserve this power of work in 
 you, for it is a great happiness, if it is not at the same time a necessity. 
 The heat here is intense. I suffer less from it as I do not go out, bein°- 
 entirely confined to my room in a state of immobility. 
 
 When you have time, opportunity, and inclination, you will write me a 
 few words about yourself, your affairs, your projects. Perhaps you will 
 even come for a day or two to Paris ; then I shall hear from your own lips 
 all that it so much interests me to know. 
 
 Poor L. Couppey has departed this life. He was a great friend and a 
 great populariser of my music. There was not one of his pupils, or grand- 
 pupils, or great-grand-pupils (he counted his pupils by generations) who 
 did not know my works. But we only saw each other two or three 
 times a year, and held no intercourse that could be termed intimate or 
 friendly. 
 
 It is just the reverse with others who are true friends, intimate, 
 serviceable, affectionate, and sympathetically devoted to my person, hut 
 who are indifferent, cold, and mute to the artist — that is to say, to his 
 works. 
 
 So goes the world. There are excellent things in it, but nothing com- 
 plete nor perfect. I am waiting for the other world. I am advancing 
 towards it shyly, and with a somewhat timid curiosity. . . . 
 
 Your faithful 
 
 St. Helleb. 
 - Waisash, on Southampton Water. 
 3 The name of the street was changed from Laval to Victor Mass6.
 
 33S LETTERS 
 
 toujours une vive opposition contre l'auteur des 'Noces de 
 Jeannette,' et le principal opposant est un riche loueur de 
 voitures de la rue, qui organise la revolte, et depense beaucoup 
 d'argent pour des banderoles en percale, avec l'inscription : 
 bte rue B'appelle Rue de Laval.' Mais je crois que force 
 restore an Conseil Municipale, cette collection d'enfants 
 terribles, qui nous imposeront bientot des changements bien 
 autrement graves, si les bonnets-de-coton conservateurs et 
 bien-pensants les laissent faire avec une colere timide et une 
 indignation inactive. 
 
 On ne peut pas dire de ma sante la phrase habituelle des 
 bulletins de sante : Le mieux (ne pas lire le vieux) persiste. 
 C'est absolument le contraire. J'aurais desire t'envoyer de 
 ces beaux Bandies de cigares, ckamarres d'argent et de galons. 
 Je te garde les trois uniques que j'ai ; Dieu pourvoira a 
 l'avenir ! 
 
 J'ai eu un veritable plaisir en apprenant que ton brave 
 fils a vendu tous les tableaux qu'il avait exposes. C'est 
 charmant, un artiste qui renait de deux cotes. II recueille 
 les honneurs du bon travail, il amasse des couronnes de 
 laurier, et du vil metal qui donne de si bonnes choses. 
 
 Certes, tu ne peux compter pour une victime de la 
 Revolution de juillet ! Et Dieu en soit loue. Tu as accompli 
 une vie de travail, d'honneur, de succes, et ayant donne du 
 eavoir, de l'instruction, du talent a une nombreuse famille, tu 
 as encore pu eriger un monument a l'amitie ! A une 
 prochaine fois ; mille poignees de main. 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 1 [Translation] 
 
 Dear Friend, — How glad I am to know you so comfortably installed, 
 60 content in your present quarters ; you seem to have gained an increase 
 of serenity of spirit and a physical v well-being which clearly betray them- 
 selves in your letter. As for me, I cannot speak to you of cool shades or 
 of tho invigorating breezes of the sea; they are wanting in the Rue de 
 Laval, and still more so in the Rue Victor Masse. There is still a violent 
 opposition against the composer of the ' Noces de Jeannette,' and the 
 principal antagonist is a rich job-master in the street, who organises the 
 rebellion, and spends a great deal of money in calico streamers, with the 
 Insaription, ' This street is called Rue de Laval.' But I think the Municipal
 
 FROM STEPHEN IIELLElt, 1**7 339 
 
 cm 
 
 PROM THE 8AMB 
 
 5 srptembre 1887. 
 
 Cher ami, — J'ai recu le volume, il y a quatre on cinq jours, 
 et je t'ai §crit aussitdl pour b'eu remercier. ^Slai.s, croyant que 
 tu aurais quitte" la campagne pour quelque voyage que tu fais 
 d'ordinaire, j'ai envoye* ma Lettre ;'i Manchester, ou tu la 
 trouveras sans doute. Je suis tres content d'avoir une 
 nouvelle lettre et de voir que tu vas bien, et que tu te reposes 
 encore ; si cela me va de te voir encore une fois cette annee 
 — je le crois bien. Et neserait-ce qu'un jour d'anvt a Paris, 
 tu aurais toujours une ou deux beures pour moi ? 
 
 Mon ctat est deplorable. J'ai des jours et des nuits ou 
 la vie m'est indifferente. D'autres ou je vegete — mais je ne 
 suis jamais bien. 
 
 Ce livre de Nottebohm m'interesse enormement. Seule- 
 ment je dois le lire a petites doses et a grands intervalles ; 
 je travaille dans ma mcmoire (tant qu'elle m'obeit) les 
 ouvrages dont il parle, et cela me fatigue beaucoup. Comme 
 il se repete infiniment, et qu'il veut etre tres clair, il devient 
 
 Council will have the last word. That collection of en/ants terribles will 
 soon impose far more serious changes upon us, if our well-intentioned 
 conservative 'night-caps,' with their timid rage and inactive indignation, 
 allow them to have their way. 
 
 As to my health, I cannot quote the habitual phrase of bulletins of 
 health : ' The improvement continues.' The exact contrary is the case. 
 
 I should have liked to send you a few of those fine dandy cigars, all 
 rigged out with silver and stripes. I am keeping you the last three; 
 Heaven will provide for the future ! It gave me real pleasure to hear 
 that your good son had sold all the pictures he had exhibited. It is 
 charming to see the artist born again in another mould. He is reaping 
 the honours of good work, he will amass crowns of laurel, and of that vile 
 metal that purchases so many good things. 
 
 Certainly, you cannot be counted among the victims of the Revolution 
 of July ! And God be praised for it. You have accomplished a life of 
 labour, of honour, of success, and liaving given knowledge, instruction, 
 and talent, to a numerous family, you have yet found means to erect a 
 monument to friendship ! Till we meet again a thousand shakes of your 
 hand I St. Helleb.
 
 340 LETTERS 
 
 un pen iatigant. Mais c'est d ? un poignant interet, et je te 
 remercie bien de me l'avoir envoye. 
 
 ( J'est dur de se separer d'un enfant, et pour une contree 
 si lointaine ! Comme on s'applique d'etre malheureux pour 
 6tre heureux! II y a quelque chose de mysterieux et 
 d'insondable dans le cceur, et dans Vesprifc de l'homme. 
 
 Ton adresse actuelle m'est tres difficile a ecrire (encore 
 plus a retenir) et resonne a mes oreilles d'une facon dis- 
 harmonieuse. Je n'aime pas Warsash; j'aime encore moins 
 field, mais je trouve horrible Hants, qui veut dire Hamp- 
 shire, je le sais; cette facon anglaise d'abreger me deplait 
 gnormement. Idiosyncrasie. Mille amities tendres et 
 
 t'raternelles. 
 
 St. Heller. 1 
 
 i [ Translation'] 
 
 September 5, 1887. 
 
 Dear Friend,— I received the volume four or five days ago, and I wrote 
 at once to thank you. But, thinking you had probably left the country 
 for one of your usual journeys, I sent the letter to Manchester, where you 
 will probably find it, I was very glad to receive another letter, and to 
 learn that you are well, and still resting yourself. If it will suit me to 
 
 -uu again this year? I should rather think so. And if you only 
 for a day in Paris, you would still have an hour or two for me. 
 
 My state is deplorable. There are days and nights when life becomes 
 indifferent to me. There are others when I vegetate, there are none when 
 
 I feel well. 
 
 Nottebohm's book interests me enormously. Only I can only take it 
 in very small doses and at long intervals ; I go over in my memory (so far 
 
 : obeys me) the works of which he speaks, and it tires me greatly. 
 As lie repeats himself continually, and as he wants to be very clear, he 
 becomes rather fatiguing. But it is keenly interesting, and I thank ycu 
 heartily for having sent it to me. 
 
 It is bard to part with a child, and for so distant a country ! - How 
 •able one makes oneself in order to be happy ! There is something 
 
 terious and unfathomable in the heart and mind of man. 
 
 Your present address is very difficult to write (and still harder to 
 remember), and sounds most inharmoniously to my ear. I do not like 
 Warsash, I like Titchjield still less, but I find Hants horrible; it means 
 Hampshire I know, and that English fashion of abbreviation displeases 
 me enormously. Idiosyncrasy. 
 
 A thousand tender and fraternal greetings. St. Heller. 
 
 2 Referring to the departure of one of Sir Charles Halle's eldest sons 
 for South Africa.
 
 FROM MB. LUDWIG STRAUS, 1888 341 
 
 CIV 
 
 FROM MR. LUDWIG STRAUS 
 {Translated from the German") 
 
 Manchester: January I, 1888. 
 
 Dear Mr. Halls', — You asked me if I could not tell 3011 
 verbally what I wished to write to you. 
 
 I strove hard to do so when I drove home with you from 
 the Concert Hall rehearsal, but it would not pass my lips. 
 But it is my duty not to leave you in ignorance, and to 
 make the matter known to you in time, so as to enable you 
 to make the necessary arrangements. 
 
 It is a greater pain to me than I can express, to sever a 
 connection l that has been so full of artistic and personal 
 satisfaction. During the sixteen years that I have had the 
 honour of working under your baton, I found in you not only 
 a master, to whom I looked up with pride, and whose 
 guidance it was ever a pleasure to follow, but also the 
 kindest and most considerate of friends. With gratitude 
 and satisfaction I look back upon the past — much as we 
 played Wagner and Berlioz, no discord ever disturbed our 
 intercourse — full of thankfulness and affection shall I remain 
 so long as I have life. Never would it have occurred to me 
 to leave an association that contented me so fully, had not 
 my health, during the past three years, been so uncertain, 
 and my joints so unmannerly as to protest energetically 
 against the continuance of my former activity. 
 
 The doctor says, and I have long felt, that the sudden 
 changes from a hot concert-room to a chase after a cold 
 railway compartment, and the fatigue consequent upon the 
 combination of a Manchester and London life are no longer 
 practicable for me. I must therefore restrict myself to 
 London, where I shall hope still to have much musical and 
 friendly intercourse with you, and that the sacrifice I make 
 
 1 Mr. Ludwig Straus was leader of my father's orchestra during 
 sixteen years.
 
 342 LETTERS 
 
 and the avoidance of exposure and exertion may keep within 
 bounds the threatened recurrence of acute rheumatism. 
 
 I shall earnestly and faithfully fulfil the obligations of 
 this season — alas, my last one with you — and remain always, 
 with all my heart, your grateful and true 
 
 Ludwig Straus. 
 
 CV 
 
 TO MR. LUDWIG STRAUS 
 
 {Translated from the German) 
 
 January 2, 1888. 
 
 Dear Mr. Straus, — What can I answer you ? Although 
 you had occasionally given me hints which caused me sad 
 forebodings, I feel to-day as if a totally unexpected blow had 
 fallen upon me, and I feel it deeply! 
 
 Your state of sufFering touched me too nearl} T , and has 
 moved me too deeply, to allow me to make any attempt to 
 induce you to reconsider your decision ; but its consequence 
 will be to rob me of a great part of the pleasure I took in 
 my concerts. You must know this yourself, for you know 
 how closely you have been identified with my musical life. 
 That I shall not lose your faithful friendship I know right 
 well, but the cessation of our constant collaboration will 
 create a sense of loneliness in me that I can never hope to 
 lose. Your kindly expressions of friendship — I may say of 
 attachment — have moved me deeply, and I shall keep your 
 letter as a precious memento. To me also it is more than 
 satisfactory to be able to say that never during the long 
 course of years has the slightest shade of discord arisen 
 between us. 
 
 I really feel this too keenly to be able to write at length, 
 and must wait until we meet to say more. If you know me 
 well —and I dare hope you do — you will understand how it 
 
 In true friendship I remain, 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 C. Halle.
 
 TO GEORG LICHTENSTEIN, 1888 343 
 
 CVI 
 
 TO MR. LICHTENSTEIN 
 
 January 30, 1888. 
 My dear Liechtenstein, — The article about Heller 1 is very- 
 good. The annuity gave him close on 300/. a year ; his 
 latter days were therefore free from financial care. No time 
 for more. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 C. HallS. 
 
 CVII 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hotel d'Angleterre, Rome : 
 
 April 8, 1889. 
 
 ... To speak of what we see here is impossible ; there is 
 too much, and the impressions are too strong. What strikes 
 me is the amazing number of things that have been discovered 
 since 1870, and the changes in the Forum, Coliseum, &c, 
 &c, through the recent excavations. It is wonderful to 
 think that when we were last here some of the most beautiful 
 statues in the Vatican were still buried underground. What 
 may not be hidden still ! 
 
 The weather, I am sorry to say, is atrocious ; rain, rain 
 and cold, is the order of the day. 
 
 The principal things we have seen already are : St. 
 Peter's, half of the Vatican, the Coliseum, Pantheon, the 
 Capitol with its two museums, the Forum Romanum, Forum 
 Trajanum, Temple of Vesta, San Paolo fuori le mure, a lot 
 of triumphal arches, the Trevi and other fountains, and so on 
 and on. The hotel is very comfortable and the service 
 excellent. We have a remarkable guide — quite a character 
 — who boasts of intimate acquaintance with Cardinal Man- 
 ning, Prince Jerome, the King, and a few other small people. 
 Thanks to him we saw the King, the Queen, and the Crown 
 
 1 Heller died on January 14, 1888.
 
 3_U LETTERS 
 
 Prince drive in three different carriages yesterday, as he knows 
 their habite. We also visited the Quirinale yesterday, with 
 
 rorgeous bnt very stiff' and cold rooms. Altogether we 
 
 aotidle, and we shall have more to tell when we come 
 home than to write now, for which there is hardly time. 
 
 Lei me know when you return to London; and when 
 vou are there please get a good piano at once, for I shall 
 have to practise like a slave from the first day of my arrival. 
 
 Best love from both of us to all of you, great and small ! 
 
 CVIII 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Rome : April 10, 1889. 
 
 Yesterday lias been the worst day, rain from morning till 
 night, but, nevertheless, we have seen many beautifal things 
 and enjoyed ourselves. Mr. Bliss, for whom we had a letter 
 from Lady Herbert (through Mrs. Grimshawe), took us 
 through a part of the Vatican which is not generally shown, 
 the Archives, Library, and Christian Museum, in which are 
 splendid paintings by Pinturicchio, especially in what are 
 called the Borgia rooms, and he showed us also an old, 
 precioas MS. life of St. George, with wonderful illustrations 
 
 Giotto. We were there hours, and took Miss Goodwin 
 with us, who was most grateful. After luncheon I went to 
 see Lord Dufferin. I saw the Bishop of Trebizond also, who 
 had been away, and he will try to help us to an audience with 
 i he I 'ope, but there will be no chance until after Easter. 
 
 We meant to go to Naples to-day and had secured rooms 
 in the Grand Hotel, when yesterday evening some people 
 i'rom Dublin, who knew both of us and who had returned 
 from Naples the same day, told us there had been four cases 
 of typhoid fever in the hotel, one of which had ended fatally 
 on Monday. You can imagine that I countermanded the 
 rooms at once. I have now telegraphed to the Bristol Hotel, 
 the one high up in the healthiest situation, and if I get a
 
 TO A DAUCHTKIi, 1 >-'.» 3 l~) 
 
 favourable answer we shall go to-morrow. Naples seems to 
 be crammed. 
 
 NewtoD is here also ; I had a chat with him yesterday. 
 
 And now we shall set to work again, so I send you our 
 united love. 
 
 CIX 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Hotel Bristol, Naples: April 14, 1889. 
 
 Your, Louisa's and Anna's dear letters reached me yester- 
 day evening and were none the less welcome for being late. 
 All your good wishes do me good and I thank you heartily 
 for them. May it do you good also to know that I am 
 supremely happy, and feel as if I had nothing more to desire 
 in this world. 
 
 We left Rome on Thursday afternoon, arrived here at 
 about seven o'clock (Italian railways are punctual now), found 
 good rooms, with a view upon Vesuvius and Capri and all the 
 rest of it, and had the pleasure of a good reception from the 
 smoking mountain, which showed a great deal of deep red at 
 regular intervals, so regular that milady for a long time would 
 maintain we saw a huge revolving light. On Friday we 
 spent the greater part of the day at the Museum, which seems 
 to me more interesting than ever, and afterwards took a drive 
 over the Pausilippo and back by Virgil's Tomb and the 
 Chiaja, which was full of carriages of every description ; it 
 was most delightful. Yesterday we spent the day at Pompeii. 
 The weather was beautiful, and we were both in raptures. It 
 is and remains the most wonderful place in the world, and 
 you have no idea how much has been brought to light since 
 we were here last. One house, which has been unearthed for 
 the German Emperor, contains most remarkable pictures, 
 fresh as if painted yesterday. Another, laid bare only a fort- 
 night ago, has garlands of flowers, fruits, with lizards and 
 birds, painted upon a black ground, too delicious for words ! 
 There is one little bird, pecking at a grape, before which we
 
 3^6 LETTERS 
 
 stood and could not tear ourselves away. In the evening we 
 had a thunderstorm, which we did not mind, as we go to 
 roost before ten o'clock to recover from the fatigues of the 
 day ; but this morning there is another with rain and hail, 
 and that is much more serious, for probably we shall be unable 
 to do anything but go to the Museum again, which, however, 
 we could only half finish on Friday, so there would be no 
 harm in that, provided it cleared up afterwards, which, un- 
 fortunately, seems doubtful. 
 
 I have not told you that on Wednesday afternoon in Rome 
 we took a drive into the Campagna to see two extraordinary 
 tombs, which I do not think you saw. They are wonderfully 
 preserved, with remarkable pictures and decorations. On 
 returning, we crossed another carriage, heard shouts, and 
 who should jump out but Hamilton Ai'de, Schuster, and 
 Crawshay! You can imagine that we had a long chat. 
 They came from Naples, and Ai'de and Schuster were to leave 
 the next day for Florence. Crawshay has a house in Rome. 
 
 The next morning old Newton came with a message from 
 Mrs. Story, asking us to an afternoon tea with Mrs. Cyril 
 Flower and Mrs. Eliot Yorke, but, of course, we could not 
 accept, as we were leaving at one o'clock. We shall un- 
 doubtedly see the Storys when we return. 
 
 That is as much as I have to tell up to the present. 
 When I return I shall be more eager for work again than 
 ever, and shall enjoy the music amazingly. 
 
 cx 
 
 TO ONE OF HIS DAUGHTERS 
 
 Hotel d'Angleterre, Rome : 
 
 April 22, 1889. 
 I will try to relate our faits et gestes since my last letter 
 in the fewest words possible, for the weather is so splendid 
 that one grudges the minutes spent indoors. 
 
 On Friday afternoon we got to the station at Naples 
 half an hour too soon, but found every carriage full of
 
 TO A DAUGHTER, 18S9 347 
 
 Italians, who had crammed in all their luggage with them. 
 We were quite in despair, when a kind porter asked if we 
 would like to travel in the Pullman Car, and then for a few 
 francs we had a beautiful compartment to ourselves, and got 
 comfortably to Rome without loss of luggage. 
 
 Shortly after nine we were at the hotel, and found cards 
 from Lord Wilton, who had called twice during the day, and 
 came again half an hour after our arrival to invite us to 
 dinner next day with Boehm and Lord Dufferin. (At Naples 
 I received an invitation from the Lord Mayor of London to 
 meet Lord Dufferin at dinner at the Guildhall. The world 
 is really very small !) 
 
 Boehm is staying at this hotel, and Lord Wilton at the 
 ' Europe,' close by. The dinner was very pleasant. 
 
 Saturday we walked about and drove on Mount Pincio in 
 the afternoon. Yesterday at 10 o'clock we went to High 
 Mass at St. Peter's, which was sung by a Cardinal under the 
 dome, not before the real high altar, but before one on the side 
 of the crypt towards the entrance. The Papal Choir sang, 
 and most beautifully, although the music was the reverse of 
 sacred. After Mass the relics were shown from one of the 
 balconies high up, all the people kneeling, and in fact the 
 whole ceremony was most impressive. In the afternoon we 
 saw a good many things, and at a quarter to five we heard 
 Vespers at St. John Lateran's splendidly sung, the Bishop of 
 Trebizond officiating. 
 
 But this morning at 7.30 we were present — think of that 
 — at the Pope's own Mass in the Vatican ! And we shall 
 never forget it ! It was celebrated in the ' Salle du 
 Consistoire,' a beautiful room, by the Pope in person, with- 
 out music, of course, and lasted from 7.30 to 9 o'clock. He 
 is very old and shaky, poor dear, and his voice is tremulous, 
 but I never heard Mass said with such reverence and deep 
 expression. It sounded as if he read it for the first time and 
 was overwhelmed by its sublimity. The effect was in- 
 describable. At the same time there was much simplicity 
 about the whole act ; no show of cardinals, &c, &c. ; there
 
 54S LETTERS 
 
 were only a few priests with him, and of course some Swiss 
 Guards, whose costume is much spoilt by their having 
 adopted the German ' Pickelhaube.' 
 
 When we came back to the hotel we were very glad to 
 have breakfast, lor we had got up between five and six o'clock, 
 and were at the Vatican punctually at seven, having had 
 nothing to eat. 
 
 Since then we have seen that wonderful villa ' Farnesina,' 
 with Raphael's Galatea, and other marvels, the Palazzo 
 rsinij the Church of St. Cecilia in Trastevere, and this 
 .■veiling we shall see the Coliseum lighted up with Bengal 
 fires. In fact, we live in Fairyland ! 
 
 CXI 
 
 TO A FRIEND 
 
 Manchester : February 26, 1890. 
 
 My dear , — I have been so terribly busy the last few 
 
 davs that I could not find a moment to write to you. Your 
 letter naturally interested me very much, and the 
 Edinburgh outcry against me highly amused me. In the end 
 people will see that I could not give up the Reid Festival with- 
 out telling them the reason. Had I not done so, they would 
 have imagined all sorts of reasons except the right one — viz., 
 the bad attendance at the concerts. You know how often 
 during the past three years I have spoken to you about the 
 empty benches, and I should not have gone to Edinburgh 
 this year had it not been the double jubilee. Now the public 
 know the reason — the only reason — of my staying away, and 
 with that I am content. For the rest, I said no word about 
 • want of appreciation,' or of want of love for music, as you 
 yourself can testify. That has been gratuitously attributed 
 to me. I contented myself with the simple facts, and could 
 not possibly add 'thanks for the bad attendance ! ' I now 
 know that during the last few years the Professor contributed 
 towards the expenses. When I wrote I felt sure of it, but
 
 FROM MR. LUDWIG STRAUS, 1894 349 
 
 had no positive proof. Can any one under such circumstances 
 expect me to come again ? 
 
 Also 1 cannot regret that I pounced upon the critics. 
 They deserved it too richly, and one cannot always let them 
 have the last word. That I had to attack your friend I am 
 sorry for; but why did your friend never think into what 
 a false position he put yon through his ignorance and 
 impudence ? For your sake I am glad to have said what I 
 •lid say. and on this point to have separated you from his 
 stupidity. The frame of mind of such a man, who out of 
 pure ignorance would, as it were, spit upon a work of art as 
 divine as the Apollo Belvidere or the Venus of Milo, will ever 
 remain incomprehensible to me. Eespect for art, and the 
 greatest masterpieces, I expect from every man, and from a 
 so-called critic especially, and above all that the critic should 
 have some knowledge of what to all men of the craft is irre- 
 futable. Most likely the man in question never heard that 
 both concertos, the E flat and the violin concerto, 1 stand at 
 an unattainable height. Oh, thou rhinoceros ! 
 
 Why did you not educate him better ? Warn him for his 
 own sake. 
 
 Bat let us leave the Edinburghers alone, and let me rather 
 ask you once again if you cannot come to one of my Man- 
 chester concerts ? On March 6 we give ' Faust.' Make an 
 escapade for once and come. It will give us great pleasure, 
 and the performance will interest you very much. Write 
 soon, and with kind regards to your ladies, believe me, ever 
 
 Your old friend, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 CXII 
 
 FROM MR. LUDWIG STRAUS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Cambridge: March 29, 1894. 
 Dear Sir Charles, — Among the noble-hearted friends and 
 artists who have united to honour and distinguish me, I read, 
 1 By Beethoven.
 
 350 LETTERS 
 
 though not in black on white, your caro nome. I am com- 
 pelled, in the fulness of my heart, to thank you for your 
 friendly sentiments, and for lending the power of your 
 name to the twice 'seven before Thebes,' or rather, before 
 Cambridge. Your noble wife brought the united beautiful 
 gift, imbedded in a wealth of lovely red and yellow roses and 
 wonderful lilies of the valley. 
 
 Our common labours, stretching over so many years, in 
 the realms of symphony and chamber music came vividly to 
 my mind, as well as the many pleasant hours we had spent 
 
 ' her. 
 
 If only you had not been the terrible Pontifex Maximus 
 of ' sixty-six,' who, during so many railway journeys, had so 
 unmercifully treated me, poor neophyte ! 
 
 Keep me ever in your good and friendly thoughts, and 
 let me thank you again for your participation in this beautiful 
 artists' demonstration. 1 With all my heart, ever yours, 
 
 Ludwig Straus. 
 
 CXIII 
 
 TO MR. LUDWIG STRAUS 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 Greenheys, Manchester: April 1, 1894. 
 My dear Mr. Straus, — Your very kind letter stirred me 
 deeply and awoke many delightful recollections. Those were 
 happy times we spent together, adorned with how much 
 artistic pleasure, and never shadowed by the slightest cloud ! 
 Our modest gift has the only merit of proving that your 
 comrades think of you, and in what high esteem they hold 
 you. As such a proof you will value it. 
 
 My wife, who happens to be here, has told me many 
 
 1 Fourteen artist -friends and colleagues of Mr. Straus had given him 
 on the occasion of his retirement a silver tea service and tray ; on the tray 
 the fourteen signatures of the donors, Lady Halle, Joachim, Paderewski, 
 Piatti, my father, ice, were engraved in facsimile.
 
 TO MR. LUDWIG STRAUS, 1894 351 
 
 pleasant things of you, and the pleasantest of all was that she 
 found you so much better. Your kind letter awakened a 
 longing for a good long game of ' sixty-six,' with a cigar- 
 accompaniment — not taking into consideration that I have 
 to revenge myself for many defeats — and I hope you will 
 soon allow me to seek you out in your home. I shall have a 
 fortnight's holiday on the 14th of April, which I shall spend 
 in London, and I shall take the liberty of proposing a day to 
 you. It will certainly do us both good to have a real long 
 chat together. 
 
 Greet Fraulein Ida for me, and believe me with the old, 
 tried friendship, yours, Charles Halle. 
 
 CXIV 
 
 FROM MR. LUDWIG STRAUS 
 
 Cambridge : April 4, 1894. 
 
 Dear Sir Charles, — I was heartily pleased to see your 
 handwriting again and to learn how kindly you are mindful 
 of me. 
 
 I am leading a life of idleness, and have not made suffi- 
 cient progress in the eating of macaroni to thoroughly master, 
 or enjoy, the dolce far niente. I can still blow the cigar- 
 smoke into the air, and still remember the difficulties of 
 ' sixty-six' : to secure the safety of the ten. 
 
 ' Batti, Batti,' but come, and thus give great pleasure to 
 your old, true friend, Ludwig Straus. 
 
 I am longing for a line to say what day you can propose. 
 
 cxv 
 
 TO MR. LUDWIG STRAUS 
 
 (Translated from the German) 
 
 London: April 18, 1894. 
 
 My dear Straus-gral, 1 — Who could resist ? I shall arrive 
 
 at 12.30 on the 23rd and ready for anything! 
 
 1 This mode of address is evidently an allusion to their studies of Par- 
 tifal.
 
 352 LETTERS 
 
 Your promises of 40 l and so on remind me of Moliere 
 and his doctor, who promised him thirty years of life if he 
 would obtain for him a certain favour from the king. Moliere 
 answered : ' Mon bon docteur, je serai amplement recompense 
 si vims ne me tuez pas.' Just so ; I may say to you that I 
 shall he pleased if I come out of the fray with a whole skin, 
 hut 1 am ready for the fray. 
 
 So farewell till Monday. Your old and faithful friend, 
 
 Charles Halle. 
 
 1 A term in the game of sixty-six.
 
 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 i 
 
 Extracts from Diary kept hy Sir Ciiarles Halle 
 i.\ the Sears 1855-6 
 
 {Translated from the Germani] 
 
 December L2, 1855. 
 Rehearsal at the Concert Hall in the evening. Haydn's B 
 Major Symphony, Overture, Ossian, Gade, the second move- 
 ment of Berlioz's Symphony, ' Harold in Italy ' (• Marche des 
 Pelerins '), and a triumphal march by Best, for next week's 
 concert. Tolerably satisfied with the orchestra, but still 
 further convinced of the necessity of the intended reforms. 
 Gade's overture is pretty and shows good intentions, but is 
 wanting in strength and in breadth of idea. In the present 
 dearth, however, its appearance must be accepted with thank- 
 fulness. Berlioz's movement carried me back to the dear old 
 days, and therefore, perhaps, gave me exceptional pleasure. 
 But how fresh, even at the present day, is the old master's, 
 
 Haydn's, Symphony ! 
 
 December 18, 1855. 
 The necessity of engaging a trumpet-player for to-morrow 
 evening's concert took me to the theatre, where a pantomime 
 rehearsal was going on. Knowles, in his usual abrupt 
 manner, spoke to me of a plan which certainly deserves con- 
 sideration. He proposed that I should ask the committee of 
 the New Free Trade Hall if, and on what terms, they would 
 let it to me for a year, or for a shorter or longer period, and 
 that he and I should make use of it together. 
 
 A A
 
 3-34 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 December 19. 1855. 
 Molique arrived towards four o'clock and accompanied me 
 in the evening to the Concert Hall. His presence fired the 
 violinists, and altogether the performance was not unsatis- 
 factory. The effect of the whole was marred by the laughable 
 figure and manners of the singer, which were not redeemed 
 bv anv artistic qualities. A clarinet concerto in A by Mozart 
 was capitally played by our excellent clarinettist. Grosse. The 
 composition, although by Mozart, is such a grandfatherly 
 prod'uCtion and so lengthy that the finale had to be left out, 
 not to try the patience of the public beyond endurance. Mr. 
 Best had come from Liverpool to hear his march, and intro- 
 duced himself to me after the concert, bat it was impossible 
 to find anything agreeable to say about his composition. 
 
 December 20, 1855. 
 To-day's concert, the third, was not quite so well attended. 
 The approach of Christmas, the cold weather, and Jullien, 
 who is performing his hocus-pocus for the first time at the 
 theatre, were perhaps the reasons that militated against it. 
 The programme was as follows : Quartet. C major. Mozart ; 
 sonata with violin. C minor. Beethoven ; pianoforte quartet, 
 F minor, Mendelssohn : violin duet, G minor, Spolir ; Bar- 
 carolle, Friihlingsglaube and Erlking, Schubert and Liszt. 
 Molique was very well disposed and played splendidly. The 
 duet was played by him and his pupil Carrodus in a masterly 
 fashion. The concert was quite satisfactory, with the excep- 
 tion of the viola player, who caused us great anxiety. I was 
 tolerably content with myself, but have often played better. 
 
 December 21, 1855. 
 Molique and Tolbecque left for London this morning at 
 '.ock : Lucas remained till 5. During the clay I busied 
 myself with the buying of Christmas presents, and in the 
 evening the Christmas-tree arrived ; it is a stately one. 
 
 December 22, 1855. 
 The preparations for Christmas continue. The children 
 are very busy on their side, and the whole house is full of 
 :s. M. is not quite well, but I hope she will be all right
 
 1855 355 
 
 by Monday evening, so that we may be able to enjoy the 
 
 feast in the old accustomed manner. 
 
 December 23, 1855. 
 
 Dined with Mr. Henry Higgins. After dinner, with 
 him and Mr. Renshaw, we held an improvised meeting, 
 under Higgins's presidency, upon the affairs of the Concert 
 Hall, and brought them into order. My proposal and stipu- 
 lation was that, instead of the irregular and approximate 
 fortnightly rehearsals of two hours' duration, there should in 
 future be one rehearsal the day before the concert, and of 
 longer duration. The concerts must therefore be changed 
 to Thursday, and dates fixed longer beforehand. Everything 
 was willingly granted, whereupon I withdrew my resignation. 
 
 Very busy in the evening decorating the Christmas-tree. 
 
 December 24, 1855. 
 The dear, familiar Christmas Eve made us all, great and 
 small, very happy. The gifts to the children were rich, and 
 their delight filled our hearts with joy. The children had 
 again prepared a small tree for us in their school-room, 
 and pleased us, moreover, with little gifts of needlework, 
 drawings, and dear letters. Until 10 o'clock they revelled 
 in their happiness, which was to begin anew the next 
 morning. I received a nice present from Mr. Stern, 
 the ' Conversation's Lexicon,' in twenty-three volumes, and 
 Mendelssohn's ' Lieder ohne Worte,' beautifully bound, from 
 an anonymous but well-known hand. I gave my wife a neat 
 gold bracelet and necklace, which greatly pleased her. 
 
 December 25, 1855. 
 On this Christmas Day the children made closer 
 acquaintance with their new treasures, and I, during the 
 time, went over some new music. Gade's ' Spring Fantasia,' 
 a very thoughtful and pleasing work. Schumann's ' Paradise 
 and the Peri ' truly surprised and entranced me ; of all his 
 works not one has so deeply interested me; it has great 
 poetic charm ; melody and harmony are new and very fine. 
 It is a pity that the poem is somewhat monotonous, and
 
 356 MARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 must probably diminish the effect of the music, because 
 it requires too many slow tempi. Began Marschner's 
 • Vampire.' 
 
 1 December 26, 1855. 
 
 Practised Molique's trio diligently, and continued 
 Marschner's ' Vampire.' At the Concert Hall rehearsal in 
 the evening I announced the renewal of my engagement to 
 the members of the band, which was received with jubila- 
 tion ; further, the changes in the regulations concerning tlie 
 performances and rehearsals, which also met with approval. 
 Afterwards, with the o^iartet alone, went through Berlioz's 
 symphony, ' Harold in Italy,' and brought the three first 
 movements to a satisfactory point. After the rehearsal I 
 went to the first performance of the pantomime, ' St. George 
 and the Dragon,' the unbounded stupidity of which annoj^ed 
 : public taste in England is still rather backward. The 
 brmance of 'Elijah' at the Concert Hall is fixed for 
 January '22, and Banks's concert at Ashton-under-Lyne post- 
 poned to the 23rd. 
 
 December 27, 1855. 
 
 Spent a few hours of the day very pleasantly ; Canon 
 
 Toole (a Catholic priest), a very nice, enlightened, poetry 
 
 and art-loving man, brought the children a big magic-lantern, 
 
 and many interesting pictures were thrown upon a white 
 
 sheet fastened to the wall. Before Canon Toole left us, 
 
 a remark about Shelley led to a theological discussion between 
 
 him and Miss C. What a sharp contrast — an unbeliever and 
 
 a Catholic priest ! 
 
 December 28, 1855. 
 
 reading Marschner's ' Vampire.' The work con- 
 tains many beauties, and exceeds in true worth many of 
 M'-vrrbeer's operas which enjoy such a far greater celebrity. 
 It is to In- regretted that so 'many of the incidents seem 
 ied from the ' Freischiitz.' 
 
 Piatti writes that his wife is better, and he hopes to be 
 ■ 1 i come on Wednesday. Received a letter from Chester ; 
 they do not want a Beethoven Sonata for their concert on 
 January 2. but something lighter.
 
 1855 
 
 December 29, L855. 
 
 An article in the Mancl \ under the title, 
 
 • Mr. Eall6 and the Concert Hall,' speaks of the new regula- 
 tions which 1 made known to the orchestra. The directors 
 most likely will not approve of this publicity, but it is neces- 
 and useful for the whole institution. The Guardian also 
 draws attention to Molique's trio. 
 
 Began to write the score of M6hul's G minor Symphony. 
 The work seems fresh and interesting. 
 
 For some time past I have read a great part of Schlosser's 
 ' Welt-Geschichte,' and have much enjoyed the solid worth 
 of the work ; the craving after knowledge and learning has 
 
 agly revived in me; I thirst lor a quiet time when I can 
 better satisfy my longing for reading. 
 
 December 31, L855. 
 
 The last day of the year ; a day on which there was little 
 work to do, I spent it quietly and cosily in the midst of my 
 family. Made music, and read a good deal. In the evening 
 
 :iited the children very much by making them some weak 
 
 punch before they went to bed, and making them drink the 
 
 health of their grandmamma, their parents, and their aunts. 
 
 The few hours before midnight 1 spent in alternately reading 
 
 Schlosser and conversing with my wife, and so peacefully and 
 
 quietly ended the year. 
 
 January 1, 1856. 
 
 At midnight peacefully and contentedly greeted the Xew 
 Year with a glass of punch. The children were all quietly 
 wrapped in slumbers free from care; we parents went the 
 rounds to give them each a first loving Xew Year's kiss. The 
 past year has brought us many joys and much good, and has 
 had few shadows: may the coming one be as favourable. 
 Seldom has the looking back been so pleasant, and though 
 there have been many cares, they are none of them dis- 
 couraging. 
 
 January 2, 1856. 
 
 Started for Chester at 8.45, and went to the Royal Hotel. 
 At 11 looked up Mr. Gunton to talk over the performance 
 of the • Messiah,' which must take place without a rehearsal.
 
 358 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Mr. Gunton is organist at Chester, and in the absence of an 
 orchestra had undertaken to accompany the 'Messiah' on the 
 organ. Upon my natural inquiry as to whether the chorus 
 was Bafe 1 received the surprising answer that he had never 
 heard them: so that conductor, chorus, solo-singers and 
 organist for a great performance met for the first time in 
 the hall, and at the moment of commencing the concert! 
 Nevertheless everything went well ; the chorus was excellent 
 
 :i Liverpool), the organist also, the solo-singers, Madame 
 Kudersdorff, Miss Messent, Miss Dolby, Mr. Lockey, and 
 Mi-. Thomas altogether left very little to be desired, and so 
 
 conducting was not unpleasant. A young bass-singer, 
 Cuzner, made his debut in the air ' Why do the Nations,' 
 and gave proof of a good voice. After the morning concert 
 wandered through the quaint old town, and visited the famous 
 cathedral, where the carved wood-work of the choir is specially 
 remarkable. In the streets the arcades over the foot- ways 
 struck me most. At the evening concert I played Liszt's 
 ' Lucia,' Caprice in E by Mendelssohn, ' La Truite ' by 
 Heller (as an encore, impromptu by Chopin) ; two ' Lieder 
 ohne Worte' by Mendelssohn, and a waltz by Chopin. 
 
 Januaty 3, 1856. 
 
 Left Chester at 9.10 and reached home at half-past 11, 
 where I found Molique and Piatti waiting for me; both 
 had arrived the previous evening. The concert was very 
 gratifying, and gave me personally great enjoyment. Pro- 
 gramme.— Trio, Beethoven, Op. 70, No. 2; sonata with 
 violoncello in A, Op. G9, Beethoven ; trio in F, Op. 52, 
 Molique; Souvenir d'Ems, Romanza, and ' Les Fiances,' 
 petil caprice for 'cello, Piatti; Serenade, Op. 56, Heller, and 
 .Ma/.urkas in B, F minor, and C, Chopin. Beethoven's two 
 magnificent works were played as perhaps we had never 
 played them before ; Molique's new trio is highly interesting, 
 and made a deep impression. Molique was recalled, and 
 dear good man was as much moved by the affection with 
 which we had played his wo-k as by its reception by the 
 public. For me it will always ; emain a pleasant recollection
 
 185G 359 
 
 that I have, so to speak, brought this trio to light. Fiatti's 
 little solos were, as usual, played in masterly style. I, too, 
 was satisfied with my playing, in spite of a little slip of 
 memory in Heller's Serenade. Both friends left for London 
 at 4 a.m. Piatti was anxious about his wife, and Molique 
 went to bear him company. I sought my bed at 1 o'clock, 
 very tired. 
 
 January 4, 1856. 
 
 The Guardian and the Examiner have very laudatory 
 articles on the concert, especially on Molique's trio, so that 
 the apprehended danger that unfamiliarity with the work 
 might cause dissatisfaction with it, and thus affect its recep- 
 tion in London, is happily averted. Set my library in order, 
 and sent a quantity of books and music to Anderson, the 
 bookbinder. In the evening continued to write the score of 
 Mehul's symphony, and busied myself choosing the works 
 for the next concert. 
 
 Put the last touch to the corrections of the first twelve 
 sonatas by Beethoven for the new edition. 
 
 January 5, 1856. 
 To-day's Athencemn attacks Jenny Lind pretty severely 
 for her rendering of the solos in the ' Messiah ; ' Chorley's 
 personal likes and dislikes seem to have an influence upon 
 his pen, without his will or knowledge. Wrote some more 
 of Mehul's symphony ; the first movement is half finished ; 
 the ideas are fresh and noble ; but the workmanship and 
 power are not very interesting, but somewhat trivial. 
 
 January 6, 1856. 
 
 Ella writes that he wishes to give some lectures on music 
 in Manchester ; he seems to have already entered into the 
 matter with Mr. Andrews, who referred him to me. I have 
 promised to use my influence, and have asked for more 
 particulars. Busy with a mass of correspondence that had 
 got into arrears. Mr. Banks, who came to inquire about 
 the programme for his coming concert, told me he had heard 
 Jenny Lind in the ' Messiah ' at Liverpool ; according to him
 
 3 GO DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 she has fallen off. and the applause, though still great, was 
 not to be compared with the enthusiasm of former days. 
 
 January 7, 1856. 
 
 For the next concert I have chosen the sonata by 
 hoven, Op. 27. No. 2, never yet played by me in public, 
 
 and am working hard at it. Spohr's trio in F will also be 
 
 given, and require some preparation. 
 
 Haw finished the fourth volume of Schlosser's ' Welt- 
 
 Greschichte,' thus terminating the history of the old world, 
 
 which was rich in enjoyment. 
 
 January 8, 1856. 
 
 Have finished the sketch of the programme for four private 
 concerts to be given during the winter months, and have sent 
 it to Mr. Higgins for perusal ; it contains much that is new 
 and interesting, and I shall be pleased if it is accepted, 
 although I have prepared much hard work for myself by it. 
 1111a writes that he has already given up the intention of 
 giving musical lectures in Manchester. He has not yet 
 decided to give concerts before Easter, and maintains that 
 everything in London is at a standstill, except Jenny Lind, 
 who seems to monopolise the public. 
 
 Have written to Molique to consult him as to the best 
 construction for the new platform that is to be erected in the 
 Free Trade Hall. 
 
 January 9, 1S56. 
 
 Began the Andante of Mehul's symphony, which seems 
 to be very simple. 
 
 Busied myself with the analysis of Spohr's trio in F, and 
 the Beethoven sonata. 
 
 Began to read about the Arabs in Schlosser. 
 
 January 10, 1856. 
 < liappell, the publisher, has at last consented to allow my 
 new edition of Beethoven's sonatas to proceed in chronological 
 order, instead of in the arbitrary order, or rather disorder, 
 '■I' M'jseheles' edition. I have commended him much for it. 
 The analysis of Spohr's trio for the next programme is 
 finished and sent to the printer.
 
 1856 361 
 
 January 11, 1 B56, 
 Have half finished a long letter to my mother, which will 
 
 give her great pleasure, as it contains a full description <>f* 
 our Christinas doings. The children had an invitation to 
 Professor Scott's, 1 but were kepi at home by the cold weather, 
 so after dinner I consoled them by playing with them for a 
 whole hour — building palaces, lighthouses, and such like with 
 their little wooden bricks. In the evening I worked at 
 symphony, and practised. A duet for piano and violin upon 
 ' William Tell,' by Osborne and de Beriot, which I shall have 
 to play next week with Mr. Cooper, vividly reminded me of 
 a soirie a1 Madame EuSt's fifteen years ago, when J played 
 it, with Ala I'tl. 
 
 The thought of going once again to Paris and playing at 
 the Conservatoire has greatly occupied my mind to-night. 
 
 January 12, 1856. 
 
 Auguste Gathy writes from Paris asking for biographical 
 notes for an article on me in his ' Musical Lexicon.' He con- 
 gratulates me upon the situation I have won in England. 
 
 In the evening worked hard at Mehul's Andante, so as to 
 be rid of* it, as my interest in the work begins to diminish. 
 
 January 15, 1856. 
 
 for Wakefield at L2.40. Before stalling I bought 
 a good edition of the ' Vicar of Wakefield,' and by its 
 perusal changed an otherwise tedious day into a very pleasant 
 one. The place itself is most prosaic, dark, and smoky, as 
 are all English manufacturing towns, and in no way answers 
 nowadays to Goldsmith's description. I arrived at 1 o'clock 
 and went to the Strafford Arms — a very old-fashioned building, 
 with old-fashioned management and service. I met there 
 Mr. Perring and Mr. Wynn, who take part, like me, in 
 to-night's concert. They are both indifferent singers, but 
 possessed of a certain amount of instruction, and very much 
 in earnest. The givers of the concert — Mr. Cooper and Miss 
 Milner — only want talent to make them very good artists. 
 The concerl took place at 8 o'clock at the Exchange Rooms — 
 
 1 Principal of Owens College.
 
 362 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 a large hall with good acoustic, and before a large audience. 
 Mv share of the programme consisted of Osborne and de 
 Beriot'a duet, the Finale of Lucia, by Liszt, Caprice in 
 E Major, by Mendelssohn, and Heller's Truite (as an encore, 
 / Worte in A, by Mendelssohn), variations from 
 
 Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata, and an impromptu and two 
 waltzes by Chopin, The appreciation of the public, among 
 whom was the former celebrated singer, Miss Wood, was flat- 
 tering. The first duet, however, did not go well at all. After 
 the concert I took a stroll through the principal streets of 
 Wakefield, and returned to the hotel, where I had a tolerably 
 
 long conversation with Mr. Perring. 
 
 January 16, 1856. 
 
 Finished the ' Vicar of Wakefield ' in bed this morning, 
 and therefore rose late. At 12.30 started for Leeds in com- 
 pany with Mr. Perring and Mr. Wynn. The programme 
 was identical with that of last evening. I had even greater 
 success than the day before, and after Chopin's Waltz had to 
 play two Mazurkas (in B and C Major). An Erard piano 
 was sent to both places for me. During the day I went to 
 an exhibition of French paintings, and was specially struck 
 by the powerful conception and vigorous execution of Rosa 
 Bonheur's picture of the Horse Fair. The grouping of the 
 spirited, snorting horses is wonderful, and there reigns a 
 mighty lifelikeness in the whole work. Very remarkable is the 
 new, nearly completed, town hall — a building that does honour 
 to the town of Leeds, and that will have few rivals in England. 
 
 Bought a fine-bound Virgil (in Latin) with the date of 
 ] 5 18, also an English translation of Juvenal and Persius. 
 
 January 17, 1856. 
 Left Leeds at 7.20 and arrived at Greenheys towards 
 1 o'clock. Piatti and Sainton arrived at 3 o'clock, and we 
 began the rehearsal for to-n ight's concert at once. Programme : 
 Trio in F, Op. 123, Spohr; Sonata quasi Fantasia, Op. 27, No. 2, 
 I'ft'thoven ; trio in B, Op. 97, Beethoven; Variations d la 
 M "< in fr line, piano and violoncello, Hummel; Morceau de Salon, 
 violin in D, Sainton. The trio in B gave us special pleasure,
 
 1856 363 
 
 and made a great impression on the public, as also did the 
 Sonata, which I played with a little hesitation. During the 
 concert we were pleasantly surprised by a little supper of 
 oysters and champagne, arranged by some friends. Heron, 
 the Town Clerk, presided at it. Piatti and Sainton left again 
 al 1 a.m. After the concert we entertained ourselves for a 
 lime with the game of cannonade. 
 
 January 18, 1856. 
 Very busy the whole day, so that I felt the fatigue of the 
 previous day's exertions doubly. Dinner at Mrs. Grundy's, 
 where I met Professor Scott and his wife, with the poet C. 
 Swain, and spent a very interesting evening. Some little 
 pieces I played to them were gratefully welcomed. 
 
 January 19, 185G. 
 
 In the few free moments my pupils left me I practised 
 hard the duet for piano and viola on themes from ' The 
 Huguenots,' by Thalberg and de Beriot, as I have to play it 
 next week at the concert with Mr. Blagrove. Very nnpleas- 
 ing and uncongenial work, which I have to force myself to. 
 In the evening choral rehearsal at the Concert Hall for 
 the ' Elijah ' which takes place next Tuesday. In precision 
 of intonation the chorus leaves much to be desired, but I 
 have tried to give them an idea of the importance of nuances, 
 and in this I have partly succeeded. At any rate, they have 
 become more attentive. But, so long as the chorus does not 
 have regular practice, good results cannot be expected. To 
 this end, let us hope, the new Free Trade Hall will soon 
 contribute. 
 
 January 20, 1856. 
 
 A letter from Molique, with a very good plan for the 
 building of the orchestra in the Free Trade Hall. 1 am 
 entirely satisfied with it, and hope to get it adopted. Sainton 
 writes he can accept an engagement at the Concert Hall for 
 February 21. I offered an engagement, through Molique, 
 fin' the same date, to Miss Leusden, recommended to me by 
 lliller. She seems to be a very good contralto. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Troost and Mr. Kvllmann visited us in the morning.
 
 304 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 The latter criticised the too rapid speed of the tempo of the 
 Finale of the Beethoven Sonata at the last concert, and he 
 may have been right. 
 
 At 3 o'clock I dined with the Charles Souchays, and 
 spent a most agreeable afternoon. A noble and intellectual 
 family, such as one rarely finds. During dinner, among 
 other things, much talk of the pleasantness of the life in 
 many parts of Germany, and the beauties of my birthplace, 
 which they knew by report, were sung by me. Later. I 
 played some short, delicious pieces of Heller's, which led to 
 some very interesting conversation. A letter from Mendels- 
 sohn was read, in which he expresses the opinion that words 
 are vague, and capable of many interpretations, whilst music 
 renders feelings with precision. Against this there is very 
 much to say. Altogether, the letter seems to me more in- 
 genious than true. Then Heine was much talked of, and I 
 had many anecdotes to tell of our former close acquaintance- 
 ship in Paris. When the conversation turned upon painting, 
 Mrs. Souchay asserted an opinion, against which I protested, 
 that a painter can only reproduce the impression of what he 
 has actually observed in nature. For instance, he could only 
 paint the sorrow on a human countenance that he had really 
 seen there. 
 
 January 21, 1856. 
 
 "Worked again at that fatal Thalberg duet, and looked 
 more closely through the three Schumann trios, in order to 
 choose one for the next concert. The third seems to be the 
 best. 
 
 In the evening choral and orchestral rehearsal of Elijah.' 
 Of the solo singers only Miss Birch put in an appearance. 
 The chorus did better, and the, orchestra was really good, 
 and so the performance promises to be satisfactory. 
 
 January 22, 1S56. 
 Went to Mr. Blagrove in the morning to arrange for a 
 rehearsal for this afternoon, and then to Mr. Peacock to lay 
 the plan for the orchestra before him, which met with his
 
 1856 365 
 
 entire approv.il. We went together to the new building, 
 which is pretty well advanced, and I was much surprised by 
 the size and beauty of the different rooms. But it seems to 
 me that in the great hall the space allowed for the orchestra 
 is too small, and especially is it to be feared that the desire 
 of gain, or, at any rate, of material profit, will not be brought 
 into accord with the necessary arrangements for real artistic 
 purposes. 
 
 The performance of the ' Elijah ' this evening was in many 
 respects satisfactory, though the soloists left something to be 
 desired. According to old-established custom, the public 
 gave no sign of approval throughout, which naturally was 
 not encouraging to the performers. 
 
 January 23, 1856. 
 
 The concerts that have lately taken place in the surround- 
 ing towns have given me the notion of attempting a so-called 
 tournGe myself, and I have already written to Sainton and 
 Piatti about terms. 
 
 At 6 in the evening started with Miss Poole, Miss 
 Manning, Miss Wilkinson (a young pupil of Garcia's), Mr. 
 Blagrove, Mr. Frank Bodda, and Banks in an omnibus from 
 the Mozley Arms Hotel for Ashton-under-Lyne for a concert. 
 This was largely attended by a somewhat raw and unintelli- 
 gent public ; the reaction upon me was such as to make me 
 very dissatisfied with my playing, and altogether I could not 
 work myself up to concert pitch. We returned in the same 
 omnibus, and I reached home very tired at midnight, and 
 with the fear that the Broadwood piano I had sent there 
 might be injured by the dampness of the hall. 
 
 January 24, 1856. 
 The programme of to-day's concert in Bury was the exact 
 counterpart of last night's. The public quite as numerous, 
 but very intelligent and appreciative. I have seldom played 
 better; my pieces the same as last evening: Beethoven's 
 Sonata in C. Op. 53, Thalberg and de Beriot, Heller's Truite, 
 and the Finale of Lucia by Liszt. The duet pleased so well 
 that part of it had to be repeated, and after Liszt's Fantasia
 
 366 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 I had to play Mendelssohn's ' Yolks ' and ' Friihling's Lied ' 
 as an encore. The whole evening, as well as the drive there 
 and back, was very pleasant, and reconciled me to the whole 
 
 undertaking. 
 
 January 25, 185b. 
 
 Sainton writes that he usually gets 30 guineas a week 
 daring a tournee, and leaves it to me to decide what I shall 
 give him j this would be very acceptable, but the project 
 cannot be realised before the coming season as it requires too 
 much preparation, for which I cannot spare the time. We 
 shall see later on. Piatti sent an undecided answer. 
 
 Third concert to-night ; at Cheetham, in the new Town 
 
 Hall. Very empty room. The programme the same as last 
 
 night and the night before. 
 
 January 20, 1856. 
 
 Studied the second Schumann trio (F major) and Heller's 
 
 ■ Wanderstunden ' and ' Nuits Blanches ' for the next concert, 
 
 and the last-named filled me with the intensest pleasure. 
 
 Later went through some of Bach's Motets, which are to be 
 
 tried next Monday at the St. Cecilia. 
 
 January 27, 185(5 
 
 Worked at the analysis of Schumann's trio for the next 
 
 concert, in which I proffered the opinion that the German 
 
 element contained in Schumann's works, and which has some 
 
 affinity with the spirit of Jean Paul, militates somewhat 
 
 against a right understanding of them in other countries. 
 
 Worked at the trio itself, as also on the little Heller things. 
 
 Some of Schumann's 'Noveletten' I played through with 
 
 delight. 
 
 January 28, 1856. 
 
 Finished the analyses of the trio, and also of Beethoven's 
 A minor Sonata, Op. 23, and took them both myself to Sever, 
 who was greatly pleased with the first. Ordered at Mr. 
 Hnlme's a large mirror for our drawing-room as a surprise 
 for my wife. 
 
 The St. Cecilia was not well attended, most likely on 
 account of the cold and bad weather ; the Bach Motets 
 caused great interest, and promised us many pleasant hours.
 
 1856 307 
 
 They will be studied with affectionate industry. After the 
 meeting went with Mr. Hecht, Dr. Finckler, and Mr. Wydler 
 to the Clarence, where we chatted agreeably for an hour or 
 two. On the way back I asked Dr. Finckler to give me 
 some lessons in Latin, and so fulfil a long-cherished wish, 
 and we fixed next Friday evening for the first lesson. 
 
 January 29, 185G. 
 
 Worked diligently for the next concert. The trio by 
 Schumann pleases me more and more. Also the Noveletten 
 become clearer and dearer to me ; the ear becomes accustomed 
 to some rather considerable harshness. An Etude by Kullak, 
 ' Les Arpeges,' I played through, which promises to be a 
 brilliant and pleasing drawing-room piece. Went through 
 some parts of Bach's Mass with astonishment and admiration. 
 In the evening wrote a few pages of the score of Mozart's 
 9th Concerto in G major. 
 
 II 
 
 Extracts from Diary kept during Sir Charles and 
 Lady Halle's first Tour in Australia in 1890 
 
 Wednesday, May 28, 1890. 
 On Friday morning, the 16th, at about 9 o'clock, we 
 arrived safe and sound at Williamstown, the port for Mel- 
 bourne, and were met on board by Mr. and Mrs. Poole, Mr. 
 Otter (in whom I recognised a former assistant at Chappell's, 
 and also at Schott's), a representative of the Argus, and 
 several other people. I received also a few letters of welcome, 
 amongst which was one from Mr. Gurnett, my former pupil, 
 and now musical critic of the Argus. The Captain went with 
 us on shore, and we travelled together to Melbourne by rail, 
 which took us about three-quarters of an hour. Here the 
 Captain put us into a queer-looking cab, into which we got 
 from behind, and on the way to the hotel we drove first to the 
 Custom-house, where the polite secretary, to whom I had a 
 letter from Mr. Cashel Hoey, told me that he had given orders 
 already on the previous day to pass all our luggage unex-
 
 SOS DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 amined. At the hotel we found our rooms ready for us. 
 Wilma told me that whilst I was at the Custom-house our 
 had held a conversation with her through the open 
 window, addressing her at once as ' Milady,' and telling her 
 he felt sure we should have a great success ; he would be proud 
 to drive us to the concerts, and hoped that on our return to 
 England c You will speak well of us,' meaning the public of 
 Melbourne, himself included. At 1 o'clock the Captain called 
 and took me to the head office of the P. and O. Company, 
 where the manager in the most obliging manner secured for 
 our return journey the very best cabin on the Arcadia; he 
 also gave me a few good Manilla cigars, and offered me his 
 further services in the most amiable way. Our luggage 
 arrived shortly after, minus a large box, which, however, 
 turned up next day, having caused us much anxiety in the 
 meanwhile. At 3 o'clock a deputation from the resident pro- 
 fessional musicians presented us with an illuminated address ; 
 other people called to welcome us ; a very good semi-grand 
 Bechstein was brought in from Allan's, the largest musical 
 firm here, and at 7 o'clock the Captain came to dinner, and 
 we spent a most enjoyable evening together. The next morn- 
 ing I was interviewed by Mr. Hart, one of the staff of the 
 Argus paper. Toole, who is staying at this hotel, paid us a 
 vi-it. and offered us boxes for his theatre. Santley also came 
 and told us of his disagreeable adventures. On Monday, the 
 19th, at 4 o'clock, we were received officially by the Mayor 
 and welcomed to Melbourne in the Town Hall. 
 
 On Tuesday I left cards and letters at the Governor's, the 
 Prime Minister's, and the Chancellor's of the University, and 
 saw the two latter gentlemen. Thursday, the 22nd. the day of 
 our first concert, we did not go out, and denied ourselves 
 to all visitors. We dined at 3 o'clock, and drove to the 
 Town Hall at a quarter to 8. We were rather curious 
 to learn how the public would like us, and were glad to 
 find a very full room, representing 243£. 18s. Lord and 
 Lady Hopetoun arrived punctually to the minute, the 
 accompanist playing ' God Save the Queen ' vigorously on
 
 
 MELBOURNE, 1890 3G9 
 
 the piano as they entered. "When they were seated I mounted 
 the platform to play the Waldstein sonata, and was received 
 with much and prolonged applause, which was renewed 
 vehemently after each movement, and at the end I was recalled 
 twice. Wilma's firstpiece, the ' Fantaisie Caprice,' created a 
 perfect furore, and she was recalled four limes. S lie was in 
 excellent form, and I really believe that I never had heard her 
 play so well, with such grace, such passion, such marvellous 
 perfection, and such mastery. It was a thing to be remem- 
 bered, and no wonder thai the public was amazed. The whole 
 concert was a grand triumph, and made us think that we are 
 quite safe here. During the interval Lord Hopetoun came to 
 speak to us. and was very amiable. He is almost a boy still, 
 hardly twenty-eight, and seems lively. We had to promise 
 him that we would dine at Government House on the follow- 
 ing Sunday. The papers next morning sang our praises to 
 the echo, and we collected them to send home. Saturday, 
 the 21th, the Queen's Birthday, was very rainy and disagree- 
 able. We received an invitation to Government House for 
 9.30, and previous to that I dined with the Gurnetts to meet 
 some of the principal musical men here. Mr. Otto Linden, a 
 pianist, Herr Scherch, both with their wives, and several 
 others, dined, and many more came immediately the dinner 
 was over. Mr. Linden said a great deal about the advantages 
 the whole profession had derived from my ' Practical Piano- 
 forte School,' which it seems has been adopted throughout 
 Australia. 
 
 At 9 o'clock I fetched Wilma and drove with her to 
 Government House. The throne-room is really splendid, and 
 the party was a brilliant one. Lady Hopetoun talked a long 
 time with Wilma, and proved very charming, simple, and shy. 
 We made many acquaintances, amongst others that of the 
 Austrian Consul, Herr Carl PinschofF, a most charming man 
 and a true Viennese, a great friend of Brahms, and formerly 
 of Wagner, having always lived in musical circles and married 
 a singer, Mile. Widemann. 
 
 Sunday, the 25th, we lunched with Sir William Clarke. 
 
 B B
 
 
 370 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 There were a few more guests : Colonel Waddington, Aide- 
 de-camp to the (Governor, some others, and the captain of a 
 Bailing vessel, who proved to be from Manchester and a 
 nephew of Sir James Watts ; I have forgotten his name. He 
 is that one of his passengers, a few days after leaving 
 England had gone raving mad, so that he had to fasten him 
 up. The laws of this country do not allow a madman to be 
 landed, and so the captain does not know what to do with 
 him and fears he will be saddled with him for a long time. 
 This house is a perfect marvel for the size and number of the 
 entertaining rooms, and also for the number of admirable bed- 
 rooms, which Lady Clarke showed us. But this is not to be 
 wondered at, as they are amongst the very richest people in 
 Australia. We dined with the Hopetouns, who were most 
 amiable. We had great fun in the evening with a tame 
 opossum, a very nice beast, and a curious parrot. Lady Hope- 
 toun made us promise to lunch with her on Wednesday, when 
 she would show us her horses, her kangaroos, and her emus. 
 
 The concert on Monday was very full, and our success 
 greater than ever. On Tuesday evening the same crowd and 
 
 same most flattering success. Wilma gets heaps of the 
 most beautiful baskets and bouquets of flowers, much to her 
 delight, and when we drive home the whole carriage is full of 
 flowers. 
 
 FricUy, May 30, 1890. 
 
 On Wednesday afternoon, after our luncheon with Lord 
 and Lady Hopetoun, which was very agreeable, WTlma had a 
 reception, and many people called — so many, that at 6 o'clock 
 she was quite exhausted. At Government House we had been 
 much amused by the kangaroos and the three emus, the 
 funniest beasts we ever saw. V A lady has sent Wilma two 
 emu eggs, very big and curious, as a souvenir from Melbourne. 
 The concert yesterday, our fifth, was fuller than any of the 
 others, the receipts exceeding 4001. There was not a place 
 empty in the whole hall, even the platform being crowded, 
 ami much money was refused at the doors. Tt appears that 
 the next one, to-morrow, will be equally crowded. All the
 
 MELBOURNE, 1890 371 
 
 papers are most sweet ; we shall keep and take them hoi 
 This morning we were photographed. At 2 we received 
 letters from England, as we had done on Friday, and wen 
 
 very happy . 
 
 Saturday, May 31, 1890. 
 To-day Mr. Poole brought me the instructions for the 
 next fortnight. They are: June 4, Geelong ; 5th, Melbourne ; 
 6th, Ballarat; 7th, Melbourne; 10th, 1 2th, and 14th, Mel- 
 bourne; in the same week as the last three dates there will 
 lie a concert at Sandhurst, the date of which is not fixed yet. 
 On the l'.'tli we commence at Sydney, arriving there on the 
 16th, so as to get two days' rest before beginning. The 
 weather to-day is fine and warm. 
 
 Tuesday, June 3, 1890. 
 The concert on Saturday was again crowded; the plat- 
 form had been made narrower, and thus about three rows of 
 reserved seats gained, the first row being, nearly in its entirety, 
 occupied by twenty blind people who were treated to the 
 concert by Lady Clarke. After Wilma's first solo there came 
 an extraordinary shower of bouquets down upon her ; half the 
 platform was full of them, and it took several people to pick 
 them up. After my last solo three very handsome bouquets 
 were thrown at me also, with which I walked off proudly. 
 ( )n Sunday we took luncheon with the Austrian Consul. The 
 day was hue, and we walked to the railway station and took 
 return tickets to Windsor, where he lives. We passed Rich- 
 mond and other stations with well-known English names, and 
 on arrival drove in a hansom to his house. His wife is on 
 a visit to her mother in Vienna. He has two nice little 
 daughters, of whom his sister-in-law takes care. The captain 
 of the Sperber, a German man-of-war, Herr von Foss, took 
 luncheon with us, and was very entertaining. He had 
 taken Stanley and Emin Pasha to Zanzibar, and was at the 
 banquet after which Emin walked out of the window instead 
 of the door, and hail his celebrated fall. The captain is a 
 charming man of most polished manners. Two other gentle- 
 men were there, nice people also.
 
 i72 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Thursday, June 5, 1890. 
 
 Yesterday morning Captain Briscoe paid us a visit, to our 
 great surprise ; he had only just arrived. He is to go to the 
 
 ,r1 with us this evening, and afterwards stay for supper. 
 At L.25 P.M. we left for Geelong, where we arrived at 3; 
 ived by Mr. and Mrs. Poole, Otter and Rose, and 
 drove to the 'Grand Coffee Palace.' Shortly after we had 
 settled in our sitting-room a mouse descended by the window 
 curtain and took up her quarters in a cottage piano, where 
 later on we heard her rummaging amongst the wires. The 
 view upon the harbour and the sea was rather fine. The 
 concert at the Exhibition Theatre, a very draughty place, 
 
 rammed full, not a seat being vacant, and the applause 
 was tumultuous. Geelong seems a very primitive place, and 
 we had to walk through a long garden, into which carriages 
 cannot enter, to get to the theatre. Fortunately, the weather 
 
 tine ; if it had been raining we could hardly have got 
 there at all. We left again at 10.45 this morning and arrived 
 at Melbourne at 1 2 . To-morrow we have a concert at Ballarat, 
 and on Saturday here again ; the one in Sandhurst is given 
 up. or at all events postponed for the present. 
 
 Tuesday, June 10, 1890. 
 
 The concert on Thursday last was again satisfactory in 
 
 every respect. Friday morning we left for Ballarat, the cele- 
 
 d gold-mining place. We arrived at 3 after a somewhat 
 
 tedious journey through an uninteresting country, very thinly 
 
 inhabited. Strange and weird-looking were a multitude of 
 
 trees, bereft of all foliage and of all bark; they are killed by 
 
 an incision made near the ground, called bark-ringing, after 
 
 which they die, and in a year's time fall to the ground, thus 
 
 saving the trouble of felling them. We found Craig's Royal 
 
 Hotel a very small place, but the eating was much better than 
 
 .-pected. Ballarat lies 1,500 feet higher than Melbourne, 
 
 and i. i: &] Tore somewhat colder. It is a beautiful town, with 
 
 and fine clean houses, most of them surrounded 
 
 plendid gardens. The concert was a curious affair, the
 
 MELBOURNE, 1890 373 
 
 house crammed to suffocation, in the cheaper places by crowds 
 of miners who actually roared their applause. Unfortunately 
 we had again much to suffer from draughts, the place being 
 
 a theatre, and a rather dilapidated one; I was most anxious 
 on account of Wilina, but fortunately she has not suffered 
 much from if. On Saturday morning we left again at 
 11 o'clock, but before then the President of the Associated 
 Miners (himself one of them) and the Inspector of Mines 
 called to present Wilma with a little piece of gold, as a 
 memorial of Ballarat, and they offered, if we paid another 
 visit to the place, to take us to the mines and show us every- 
 thing worth seeinor. We returned to Melbourne at 2.15, and 
 had our eighth concert in the evening. Avery full house 
 again, and the usual success.. The programmes had gone 
 astray, and every piece had to be announced by Herr Scherch, 
 the accompanist. 
 
 Sunday we spent at home, reading and writing letters to 
 
 England, declining to see any visitors. Yesterday. Monday, 
 
 Mr. Poole came to give me the dates of the first six concerts 
 
 .!t Sydney, where he was going in the afternoon. The 
 
 Chancellor of the University had invited me to meet him 
 
 and the council at half-past 4 o'clock, which I did, and then 
 
 ! my views about the Chair of Music. They seemed 
 
 much impressed with what I said, and asked me to revise the 
 
 paper which they had sent out to candidates, and strike out 
 
 those of the conditions I could not approve of, which I have 
 
 promised to do. In the evening the Liedertafel gave me a 
 
 reception, or a ' Social ' as they call it, and presented me with 
 
 a beautifully got-up address (to Sir Charles and Lady Halle). 
 
 The President, -lud^r Casey, is a very nice man, and the 
 
 i net or. Mr. Hertz, extremely clever, to judge from the 
 
 excellent way in which the Liedertafel, about 120 strong, 
 
 sang. The quality of the voices, the ensemble and nuances, 
 
 all were as good as could be wished for. All the evening I 
 
 sat on a raised platform between the President and Baronvon 
 
 Midler, a celebrated botanist, who has been in Australia 
 
 upwards of fifty years, and has explored it from east to west.
 
 ;;74 diaries and notes of travel 
 
 it is curious that he and another gentleman, who was present 
 last night, should have lived, fifty years ago, under a tent, in 
 the midst of a bush and surrounded by kangaroos, on the 
 very spot on which .Melbourne stands now; so rapid has 
 been the growth of the town. I made the acquaintance of 
 Mr. Ilavter. a Government Statist, who has sent me a most 
 interesting book on the population of ATctoria. It shows that 
 pe 1835 there was not one white man in the whole pro- 
 vince, but about 5.000 aborigines; by May 25, 1836, there 
 were 177 whites, by November 8 of the same year 224, two 
 years later there were 3,511, and by April 3, 1881, 849,438. 
 This shows what a new country it is ; in 1841 there were in 
 the whole province only 1,490 dwellings, and in 1881 their 
 number was 179,816. The population of Melbourne falls short 
 of that of Manchester, without Salford, and the wonder is that 
 bo many concerts can be given in so short a time; but then, 
 there are no poor people here at all, and a beggar is not known. 
 
 To-day is a good day for practice, and I must say that the 
 act with a new public has done us much good, and has 
 put fresh musical life into us. Playing so constantly in 
 lino-land as we do. it becomes a matter of routine, and loses 
 its interest ; here we are quite astonished to find that we 
 take a real interest in every concert, in every article in the 
 rs. and we certainly do our very best. It is a great satis- 
 faction to witness the breathless attention with which these 
 
 re crowds listen to us ; there is not the least exaggeration 
 in saving that you might hear a pin drop ; and never a soul 
 stirs before the last note is played. 
 
 June 11, 1890. 
 
 The concert last night was full, without being crowded. 
 
 The wretched weather must have detained many. Mr. 
 
 Wilson, from Ballarat, a son of the late Canon Wilson, of 
 
 Manchester, this morning sent Wilrna a box full of specimens 
 
 from the different gold mines; they are extremely interesting 
 
 gave her much pleasure. Two gentlemen travelled 500 
 
 ssterday to hear us and are returning to-day, but wish 
 
 to shake hands before they leave. A letter from Sandhurst
 
 MELBOURNE, 1890 375 
 
 speaks of the impatience with which we are expected there, 
 but it is doubtful if we can go. Mr. Wilson called at twelve 
 o'clock with a little daughter, aged fourteen, who played for 
 me, and very well too. She is to be sent to England, and I 
 could honestly encourage him to do so. The two gentlemen 
 from Hamilton came also. One of them proved to be the 
 nephew of the celebrated chess-player, Horrwitz, whom I 
 knew long years ago, and the other, a Mr. Palmer, a nephew 
 of Heller, the well-known ' prestidigitateur.' They were in 
 raptures over the concert and are remaining for to-morrow's. 
 As it was Wilma's reception-day, we had crowds of people in 
 the afternoon — amongst them several of our fellow-passengers 
 from the Valetta. A quiet dinner and an hour's 'sixty-six' 
 concluded the day. Of course, we both practised to-day as 
 on every other day. 
 
 June 14, 1890. 
 
 We remained at home on Thursday, and had a most 
 brilliant concert in the evening, with a crowded audience. 
 A little girl presented Wilma with a violin, full-size, made of 
 violets. We heard from Mr. Rose that at his hotel a party 
 of twenty-five are staying, who have come hundreds of miles 
 from the bush for our last three concerts here. 
 
 Yesterday, Friday, was a wet day, but we had to go to the 
 University at 2.30, which the Chancellor wished to show us. 
 It was very interesting, but a great fatigue, so many different 
 buildings had to be visited. In the museum we saw a curious 
 freak of nature, the skeleton of a young man, who, from the 
 knee downwards had only one leg and one foot, although 
 from the knee upwards he was formed like other people. 
 Curiously enough the skeleton had been prepared by the 
 father of Eugene Sue, the novelist, who was a distinguished 
 doctor. One of the professors came from Manchester and 
 knew me, of course. The great hall of the University is a 
 beautiful place — not quite finished yet — with fine oak carv- 
 ings and bronze chandeliers. We had to take wine with the 
 ( Ihancellor, who had escorted us everywhere in full academical 
 costume, in his private room, and very good Australian wine
 
 376 DIARIES AND XOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 ir proved to be. On our return to the hotel, we found the 
 i- lesired letters from home, and were very happy, all the 
 more bo that they brought only good news. In the evening 
 1 went for the first time to the Yorick Club, of which I had 
 been made an honorary member, and met there the Town 
 Clerk, Mr. Nisbett, Mr. Hart, and several other gentlemen, 
 with whom I spent two hours very pleasantly. 
 
 To-day Wilma is not so well, probably in consequence of 
 our trudging about in the wet University grounds yester- 
 day, and I wish this evening's concert were over. Altogether 
 the salutary effect of the long sea-voyage seems on the wane 
 and I long to be afloat again. Yesterday a long telegram 
 from Lord Carrington informed me that he and Lady Car- 
 rington will, after all, be at our first concert in Sydney, his 
 intended inland journey having been put off on account of 
 some floods. At the same time he asked us to dinner on 
 Thursday next, which invitation we accepted by telegraph. 
 At three o'clock this afternoon we went to the orchestral con- 
 cert in the Town Hall to hear Haydn's 'Clock' Symphony and 
 Beethoven's ' Leonora ' Overture. We would gladly have 
 si pped at home if all the newspapers had not announced our 
 We were conducted in state to two enormous arm- 
 chairs in front, one on each side of a passage, so that we 
 could not even talk together. 
 
 June 16, 1890. 
 
 The concert on Saturday was perhaps the most successful 
 
 of all ; the hall was crammed and the demonstrations of the 
 
 public as enthusiastic as possible. A floral tribute was 
 
 offered to Wilma on the part of her compatriots, which was 
 
 mely handsome and costly; a thousand pities that it 
 
 must fade away. Altogether, we were extremely gratified, 
 
 ■I the people cheered us in the street when we left the hall. 
 
 We can be sure of a hearty welcome on our return. 
 
 To-day we leave at 4.55 p.m. The weather is fine, but 
 le tell us that the night will be very cold and uncomfort- 
 able. We have to change at 11.20.
 
 SYDNEY, 1890 377 
 
 June 21, 1890. 
 The journey from Melbourne to Sydney was very tedious, 
 the carriages very uncomfortable, and we had to change at 
 eleven o'clock at Albany, where the X.S.Wales line begins. 
 We got up pretty early, and had a very bad breakfast at 
 Mittagong. On Wednesday, the 18th, our first concert was 
 given, after we had been debating the whole day if it ought 
 not to be postponed, for since the previous day or two Wilma 
 had been suffering from rheumatism in the middle finger of 
 her left hand, which made playing very painful and almost 
 impossible. Poole was in a great state of excitement and 
 anxiety, and finally we arranged that I should let him know 
 at six in the evening if the concert was to take place. At 
 the last moment and with her usual pluck Wilma decided 
 that she would play, and never did she play more divinely. 
 Our success was enormous, but how glad we were when it 
 was over ! 
 
 On Thursday afternoon the Mayor received us in the 
 Town Hall at 3 p.m. He sent his carriage for us, and, with 
 Mrs. Burdekin, met us at the top of the outside stairs — she, 
 a very handsome and ladylike woman, presenting Wilma 
 with a splendid bouquet. The Mayor himself, a man of 
 enormous wealth, is charming, and has most friendly, 
 winning manners. We were conducted upstairs to the first 
 of a long suite of reception rooms, where we took our stand, 
 and immediately after the presentations began. We had to 
 shake hands with about 800 people, the creme of the society 
 here, including the Speakers of both Houses, Ministers of 
 State, Consuls, &c, &c. They all passed us, went through 
 the suite of rooms, and found their way to the other side of 
 the building, where, in another suite of rooms, refreshments 
 were served, and to which we also were conducted when we 
 had done with the shaking of hands. The whole thing was 
 admirably managed, much better than at Melbourne, and no 
 •lies were delivered. The two suites of rooms are on 
 both sides of the large hall, in which the huge organ is being 
 erected, for the completion of which Air. Best is waiting
 
 Ol 
 
 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 here. The hall is really a grand and splendid one, all 
 white, and of noble proportions; I cannot recollect one in 
 Europe to match it, People hope we shall be able to give a 
 few concerts in it when we return from Brisbane, but that 
 
 seems doubtful. 
 
 AW- left at 5 o'clock, the Mayor conducting us to the 
 carriage. Shortly after we had to dress to drive to Govern- 
 ment House, where dinner was at 7 o'clock, to enable us to 
 attend the second part of the Liedertafel's Jubilee Concert, 
 Lord and Lady Carrington had been at our concert the pre- 
 vious evening, but could not speak with us, as they were 
 perched high up in the gallery over the clock. It is impos- 
 sible to be more nice, hearty, and amiable than they were. 
 Aiter dinner we drove to the Exhibition Building, waited a 
 few minutes in the carriages for the end of the first part, 
 and then made our entrance, Lord Carrington giving his arm 
 to Wilma, and I to Lady Carrington, the people standing up, 
 and ' God Save the Queen ' being played. The Liedertafel, 
 about 120 strong, sang uncommonly well, but the solos were 
 not to our taste. The Exhibition Building has a railway on 
 one side, and a tramway, worked by steam-engines, on the 
 other, both whistling almost every minute, which spoils the 
 effect of music considerably. 
 
 After Wednesday's concert Wilma's finger got worse, and 
 medical aid became indispensable. Dr. Scott Skirving, 
 recommended by Lady Carrington, a Scotsman, who knew us 
 well from the Reid Concerts, was very nice ; he said that if 
 -he were an ordinary woman he should prescribe complete 
 rest, but as this in her case was out of the question he would 
 tiy a compromise. We stopped^ at home all day, receiving 
 plenty of visitors, and a deputation from the German Club, 
 to offer me the honorary membership and to invite us both to 
 
 a ' Maskenball' next Friday. 
 
 Sunday, June 22, 1890. 
 Yesterday morning, on trying her finger, Wilma found to 
 her sorrow that it would be impossible for her to play in the 
 evening. Placards had therefore to be put up in the town,
 
 SYDNEY, 1890 Ot ( J 
 
 and the announcements made in the evening papers to the 
 
 effect that the concert was postponed, in spite of which large 
 
 crowds collected in the evening to find the doors of the hall 
 
 closed. 
 
 Monday, June 23, 1890. 
 
 When the doctor came yesterday he found Wilma's finger 
 much improved, but insisted upon her giving it entire rest 
 until Thursday, for fear of a relapse. The concerts have to 
 be postponed thei'efore, and the announcement to that effect 
 appears in this morning's papers. It is a great annoyance, 
 but it cannot he helped. Sydney strikes us as much more of 
 a town than Melbourne; there are finer streets, beautiful 
 buildings, splendid shops, and altogether it looks more 
 civilised and home-like. 
 
 Wednesday, June 25, 1800. 
 
 On Monday afternoon Mrs. Burdekin sent us her carriage 
 at half-past 2 o'clock for a drive. The weather was fine, but 
 a little too windy, and there was a deal of dust. AVe drove 
 to South Head, one of the two heads through which the 
 harbour is entered and upon which the lighthouse stands. 
 The view is beautiful in the extreme ; the harbour winding 
 through the green hills, and, being dotted here and there 
 with little islets, is unlike anything we have seen before ; it 
 is like an immense river, expanding at intervals into lakes, 
 and being surrounded by upwards of a hundred bays. From 
 the South Head it forms an enchanting panorama, extending 
 for many miles up to Sydney. Close to the spot where we 
 were Captain Cook landed, and for the first time hoisted the 
 English Hag ; Botany Bay is also very near ; altogether, it 
 was a most interesting drive. Before we left the hotel we 
 had letters from home, to our great joy, as we only expected 
 them the following day. All the news was good, thank 
 God! 
 
 June 26, 1890. 
 Wilma's finger is getting better and better ; nevertheless, 
 the doctor does not seem quite sure that the exertion of 
 playing this evening, and afterwards at so many concerts,
 
 380 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 will not do it harm. She thinks it will not: we must hope 
 
 for the best, but I feel anxious. The weather has been very 
 
 bail to-day : rain from morning to evening. Yesterday after- 
 
 came more letters from home, much sooner than 
 
 aid export them ; one to Wilma from Mrs. Ewart with 
 
 news of Winzi. 1 She strongly urges that we should 
 
 give a concert at Colombo on our return journey, and offers 
 
 T<> arrange everything. On inquiry at the P. and O.'s office, 
 
 1 find that the Arcadia will stop there from twenty-four to 
 
 thirty-six hours; so we can do it, and I will telegraph to 
 
 that effect. In less than eight weeks we shall be on our way 
 
 . and very glad of it. 
 
 June 27, 1890. 
 In spite dt' the pouring rain, the concert last night was 
 crammed, and our success very great. Wilma played beauti- 
 fully, and, thank God, the exertion has had no ill effect. So 
 we hope we may now go on without further interruption. 
 The two sonatas of Beethoven's seemed to please most last 
 night ; they were certainly listened to with breathless atten- 
 tion and vehemently applauded. 
 
 July 1, 1890. 
 
 Last Saturday has been the rainiest day we have had yet ; 
 
 it poured from early morning till 7 in the evening without a 
 
 single moment's interruption. Then it cleared, which was a 
 
 good thing for the concert. Both on Friday and Saturday 
 
 -11 was crammed, and the applause as warm as we could 
 
 ibly wish for. Wilma received a most beautiful flower- 
 
 basket, and an enormous laurel wreath, big as a cart-wheel, 
 
 with the letters H and N in white and red camellias, which 
 
 are still fresh to-day. 
 
 Sunday we dined with Sir Alfred Stephen and his two 
 amiable daughters. He is a remarkable and very gentle- 
 manly old man of nearly eighty-eight, with a very fresh 
 mind. In the absence of Lord Carrington he acts as Governor, 
 and seemingly does not find that it overtaxes him. He was 
 full of anecdotes, and very sprightly. As a compliment to 
 Wilma he had read up the history of violin-making, and 
 1 Lady llallt'd dog.
 
 SYDNEY, 1890 ottl 
 
 knew more about it than either she or I ; he confessed, how- 
 ever, that his learning was not a day old, but protesti d that 
 he would not forge! it again. 
 
 On Monday, yesterday, the weather was fine, and we took 
 a walk through the Domain and the Botanical Gardens to 
 Farm Cove Harbour, a most enjoyable promenade. The 
 (.'anions are wonderfully interesting; we saw there an in- 
 credible variety of palm and other exotic trees, some looking 
 most fantastical and forming beautiful groups. The view 
 upon the harbour is very fine, the gardens are beautifully 
 kept, and as they atv quite near to our hotel we shall go there 
 often, weather permitting. The concert was crowded; lung 
 before the commencement the notice was put up at the box 
 office : ' Standing room only.' After the concert we went for 
 an hour to a ball which was given by the Mayoress, not in 
 her own house but at some very spacious Assembly Rooms. 
 It was a brilliant scene, well lighted, and there was a substan- 
 tial supper. Gentlemen and ladies danced with infinitely 
 more animation and energy than is ever seen in England, and 
 we watched them with much amusement. Some of the young 
 ladies were extremely handsome, and most of them well 
 dressed. We left at half-past 11. 
 
 July 4, 1890. 
 
 Concerts on Tuesday and Wednesday full, and animated 
 as usual ; there is nothing new to be said about them. 
 Wilma's linger fortunately keeps well enough not to hinder 
 her playing, although it is not yet quite in its usual state. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon we walked to the 'man-of-war steps,' 
 where Captain Foss was already waiting for us with his boat 
 to take us to the Sperber for tea. It is a small warship, but 
 very interesting. The captain's cabin is small but rich in 
 curiosities picked ap in many countries, especially in Africa. 
 There were spears and arrows, many of them poisoned, and 
 some from the newly-discovered Pigmy race, curious shields, 
 damascened sword-, and so on. We had bad tea, excellent bread 
 and battel', and very good champagne at this very odd hour. 
 He then took us over the whole ship, explained all her fight-
 
 3S2 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 ing power, and especially the torpedoes, the most wonderfully 
 ■<■ things, which, as he said, can do everything but speak. 
 At 5 o'clock we were on the bridge when the flag was lowered 
 and sainted militarily by the captains, officers, and the men 
 who had been called out for ' flag parade.' It was nice to see. 
 The boatswain who called the men out had the most unearthly 
 voice ever heard, something between the trumpeting of an 
 ant and the grunting of an ox. The captain told us 
 laughingly that the boatswains seek in honour to outdo each 
 . il her by the terrific voices they can produce from their throats. 
 1 lefore we left we signed our names in the captain's autograph 
 book, on the same page, at his request, where Stanley and 
 Emin Fasha had written their names. Singularly enough he 
 showed us the photographs of the wife and two daughters of 
 our former friend, Prince Frederick of Schleswig-Holstein, 
 afterwards Prince de Noer, who died some years ago. Shortly 
 all or five the captain took us back to the steps in his boat in 
 two minutes, and five minutes later we were at the hotel. 
 
 July 10, 1890. 
 
 Both the last concerts in Sydney, on Friday and Saturday, 
 were crowded, the one on Saturday particularly so, and will 
 ! Dg be remembered by us. Lord and Lady Carrington, who 
 had only returned the same afternoon, were there, and sat on 
 the platform close to the piano. Wilma got bouquets after 
 every one of her pieces ; but after the last, when we thought 
 the flowery tribute exhausted, there came such a shower of 
 them from all sides that the whole air seemed filled with roses 
 >ther splendid flowers that were thrown from the galleries, 
 right and left, as well as from the reserved seats, many of 
 which struck Lord Carrington as well as me. The whole plat- 
 form was in a short time covered with them, Lord Carrington 
 and I being very busy in picking them up; but to gather 
 them all was impossible, and Wilma on leaving the platform 
 had literally to walk over roses. 
 
 Next day we started for Brisbane. At the Sydney station 
 we had a disappointment, for a special carriage which had been
 
 BRISBANE, 1890 383 
 
 promised to us by the Chief Commissioner of Railways, Mr. 
 Eddy was not forthcoming, and the ordinary one, reserved forus, 
 was the reverse of comfortable. The journey, one of thirl y-six 
 hours, was therefore very fatiguing, and a long telegram from 
 Mr. Ivldv. winch we received on the road, and in which he 
 expressed all his regret at the misunderstanding, brought us 
 little com fort. We arrived at Brisbane at 6.20 on Tuesday 
 morning, the 8th, very tired, and went to bed soon after hav- 
 ing had some tea at the Bellevue Hotel, where we are staying. 
 What we had seen of the country between Sydney and here 
 had been extremely uninteresting and very monotonous. 
 Brisbane looks cheerful, and of course brand new. for thirty 
 vears ago there was not a house there. Now we have fine 
 Houses of Parliament just opposite our windows, we look down 
 upon splendid Botanical Gardens, and going out we walk 
 through broad and regular streets with very grand buildings 
 here and there, all very fine, but not interesting. Yesterday, 
 at half-past 2, we were' received by the Mayor at the Town 
 Hall, the funniest ceremony we ever were at. The concert in 
 the evening was very full, and the Centennial Hall, in which 
 it took place, is very good and free from draughts. The 
 Governor, Sir Eenry Norman, was therewith his suite. The 
 audience applauded us a good deal, but I am afraid that the 
 music we play is a little beyond them, although the papers 
 t his morning are in raptures. We have concerts this evening, 
 to-morrow, Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday, and return to 
 Sydney on Wednesday next, arriving on Friday morning. 
 Si nee our arrival at Brisbane the weather has been very fine, 
 only with a little too much wind and, consequently, dust. We 
 have now reached tin" furthest point from Ihigland ; when 
 we leave here we shall have the feeling of getting nearer and 
 nearer home. 
 
 Joly 12, 1890. 
 
 The weather yesterday was lovely; AYilma and 1 took a 
 
 hmg walk, first to the town to post our letters, and then 
 
 through the Botanical Gardens, which are fine, although they 
 
 cannot be compared to those of Sydney. One part, a pool of
 
 384 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 water surrounded with bamboos more than 50 feet high, is 
 eminently characteristic of the tropics ; it is a perfect picture. 
 
 The two concerts have gone off well, but without interest- 
 ing us in the least ; we don't feel in our element, and shall be 
 
 I to turn our backs upon Brisbane. 
 
 July 14, 1890. 
 
 Saturday afternoon we took another walk through the 
 Botanical Hardens, and found them more interesting than 
 before. The variety of trees is quite astounding; some, like 
 the bottle-tree, look perfectly ridiculous. We returned again 
 rday, and discovered the aviary with a collection of fasci- 
 nating birds ; also a fine fernery. Being Sunday, the gardens 
 were crowded, and we were much stared at, too much for our 
 comfort. The public on Saturday evening was warmer, but 
 
 so numerous as before. I am afraid Brisbane has been a 
 mistake of our managers. To-day the weather is splendid, 
 bright sunshine and warm. So at 1 o'clock we took a car- 
 
 ■ and drove to ' One Tree Hill,' from which we had a really 
 beautiful view. The drive there was very fine ; first along 
 
 ! Irisbane water and then through woods with innumerable 
 birds. The houses we passed were all of them built upon 
 
 - (like the Pfaldbauten of old) as a. protection against 
 gigantic ants, which visit this country frequently. The extent 
 of country we saw from the top of the hill was enormous ; a 
 little before us, on our left, we had the whole of Brisbane, the 
 houses of which looked like so many big square stones ; 
 through the whole plain, densely wooded everywhere, the 
 river was gliding in ever so many zigzags; in the distance, 
 twenty-five miles away, we saw the town of Ipswich, very 
 white, and nearly everywhere the horizon was bounded by a 
 range of picturesque mountains of a beautiful dark-blue colour, 
 leaving, in a few places, a glimpse of the ocean open. The 
 air was wonderfully clear, and we enjoyed the drive immensely. 
 
 July 15, 1890. 
 The concert was crowded last night, and the enthusiasm 
 greater than previously.
 
 BRISBANE, 1890 385 
 
 July 16, 1890. 
 
 Luucneon with the Governor, Sir Henry Norman, yester- 
 day was very pleasant. Nobody was present except Captain 
 Baden-Powell and Mr. Wilson, formerly Postmaster-General, 
 but now in opposition — a great music-lover, a violinist him- 
 self, who writes on music for the papers. Government House 
 is small, but neat and well-situated, the gardens in front of 
 the house descending to the river. We were glad to eat 
 well-cooked viands after a whole week's fare at this hotel. 
 The concert in the evening was again very full. It has much 
 interested us to watch the growing interest of the public. 
 The applause during the last two concerts has been very 
 different : much more genuine and spontaneous than at the 
 first. It would not take long to educate them, and to make 
 them appreciate the best music. Before us, nobody had ever 
 played them a sonata by Beethoven, or any other really good 
 music. In the afternoon I had a visit from old Toole — a dear 
 and pleasant man. 
 
 July 18, 1890. 
 
 The journey back to Sydney has been as pleasant as the 
 one to Brisbane had been disagreeable. We had special 
 carriages, good beds, and a special gentleman to attend upon 
 us and all our wants. We played many games of 66, and 
 were altogether jolly. We arrived at 5.40 this morning, 
 and experienced a feeling of intense relief in getting into our 
 snucr, clean rooms again. While at breakfast I heard that 
 poor Mr. Best has had a bad fall down a high staircase (after 
 a dinner given to Mr. Toole) : has hurt his side very badly, 
 and has already been a fortnight in hospital. The opening of 
 the organ and the Centennial Hall is therefore postponed, 
 and not likely to take place before the second week of August. 
 Lady Carrington had sent us most pressing invitations by 
 letter and telegram to Brisbane to stay with them at Govern- 
 ment House during our present visit, but we had to decline 
 them, as we could never have been masters of our time, 
 which, with so many concerts on our hands, is a matter of 
 absolute necessity. 
 
 c c
 
 3S6 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 July 21, 1890. 
 To-day we drove to Coogee's Bay. It is a charming place, 
 and the colour of the sea most beautiful. To-morrow I am 
 to be entertained at dinner by the Athenasum Club, whilst 
 Wilma will dine at Government House. The restored cable 
 bronght the news of H. M. Stanley's marriage and Lydia 
 Becker's death. 
 
 July 22, 1890. 
 The concert was crowded yesterday, and very successful. 
 We hear that for the next, which takes place at 3 p.m. 
 to-morrow, the plan is already closed, as all the tickets are 
 Bold. Wilma went this morning to a Chinaman's shop and 
 bought a few small things. The Chinaman, Geeong Tarr, 
 a mandarin, has asked us to supper after one of the concerts, 
 and we shall go on Friday evening. It will be a new ex- 
 perience. I went out in the afternoon, and, passing a music 
 shop, I saw in the window the old lithograph of the ' Musical 
 Onion,' with myself at the piano. Whilst I was looking at 
 it the owner of the shop came out and addressed me very 
 politely, telling me that this very morning he had sold 
 another copy of the same. 
 
 July 23 1890. 
 
 The dinner at the Athenasum Club yesterday evening was 
 
 well attended, and President Dr. Tarrant a pleasant man. 
 
 The Mayor sat on his left, and I, as the guest of the evening, 
 
 to his right. The eating and drinking were good : one soup, 
 
 beche ih rner, a novelty to me. It was very much like turtle. 
 
 r dinner the president made a speech, to which I had to 
 
 reply, and then a little concert was performed, of which I 
 
 have kept a programme. It was rather curious, on account 
 
 (.)' tin- exuberance of feeling displayed. Just as I was going 
 
 Mr. Eiinerbein, a member of the club, begged me, together 
 
 with about twenty other gentlemen (amongst whom was the 
 
 ir) to go with him into another room, where we found 
 
 more champagne, tea and coffee, and where lots more speeches 
 
 • delivered. The Mayor and he then escorted me to the 
 
 hotel, the night being very fine.
 
 SYDNEY, 1890 387 
 
 July 25, 1890. 
 The concert on Wednesday afternoon was the most crowded 
 of those we have had here. The Carringtons were present 
 aeain. In the evening we went to see ' A Doll's House,' by 
 Ibsen : a very strange and not altogether satisfactory play. 
 It was well ucted, Miss Janet Achurch being especially good. 
 
 July 28, 1890. 
 
 After the concert on Friday evening we took supper with 
 
 Mr. GreeongTarr, the Chinese mandarin — a very pleasant little 
 
 man. who had prepared a grand spread for us. Mrs. Tarr, 
 
 an Englishwoman, was in the country. Geeong Tarr is a 
 
 very wealthy man and a great benefactor to the poor — not 
 
 merely the Chinese poor, but of all nations. Some years ago 
 
 the Emperor of China sent for him and made him a mandarin 
 
 (although he was a Christian), together with three of his 
 
 ancestors. 
 
 August 3, 1890. 
 
 On Monday last we gave our last concert at Sydney, a 
 matin&e, which was crowded. During the interval Wilma 
 was presented with a lyre-bird in silver as a souvenir of some 
 of her Sydney admirers. It is a beautiful thing, and she is 
 greatly pleased with it. We left Sydney at 5 o'clock on 
 Tuesday, and arrived at Melbourne at midday on Wednesday. 
 On Thursday we heard from Mr. Poole that the four concerts 
 next week are to be with orchestra. Yesterday morning 
 I rehearsed Weber's ' Concertstuck ' with the Victorian 
 orchestra, and they did very well. The Chancellor of the 
 University came to see me on Friday morning, to thank me 
 for the advice I had given them with regard to the Pro- 
 fessorship, which the Council seemed inclined to follow. 
 Mr. Marshall Hall, from Oxford, has the best chance of being 
 
 appointed. 
 
 August 7, 1890. 
 
 The ' Emperor ' Concerto made a great impression last 
 
 evening, and altogether the concert was very pleasant. It 
 
 was full, but not crowded, and the little orchestra does its 
 
 best. 
 
 cc2
 
 388 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 August 10, 1890. 
 The Beethoven Concerto on Thursday evening had an 
 immense success. Wilma played it splendidly. It was very 
 well accompanied, and the enthusiasm of the band was 
 touching to behold. 
 
 srday I had a rehearsal of Beethoven's C Minor 
 Concerto. I went also with the band through the Adagio 
 from Spohr's 9th Concerto (without Wilma), because the 
 clarinet parts were missing, and I had written them out 
 from memory, so it was necessary to see if they were what 
 
 wanted. At half-past one I went to the Mayor's 
 luncheon at the Town Hall. The Premier and several other 
 Ministers, the Speakers, and many members of both Houses 
 were there — altogether about fifty people. I sat between the 
 Premier and the Chairman of the ' Harbour Trust,' who hails 
 from Radcliffe, near Manchester, and was therefore a sort of 
 intance. The luncheon proved to be a sumptuous 
 dinner, and lasted till half-past four. Many speeches were 
 delivered, some quite political and very amusing, and my 
 
 h was proposed (at the Mayor's request) by Mr. Carter, 
 a prominent member of the House of Commons here, and a 
 very good speaker, who did it very well, and whom it was 
 a pleasure to answer. Some of the speeches by members of 
 the Opposition having been rather violent, falling foul of the 
 Premier and Government, I began my answer by saying how 
 interested I had felt in listening to them, and how it had 
 seemed to me that music was the basis of all of them, for we 
 musicians knew well that discords were the great charm 
 of harmony. This was much applauded, and altogether I got 
 pretty well out of my troubles. "When I left Mr. Rose was 
 waiting to conduct me to the branch establishment of Broad- 
 
 !'s here, which was to be inaugurated yesterday. There I 
 found thirty to forty musicians, writers, and friends assembled, 
 and a large array of bottles of champagne. Speeches were 
 made, healths drunk, and prosperity wished to the new esta- 
 blishment, which indeed promises well. I returned to the 
 
 1 at about G o'clock, rather exhausted and not too well
 
 MELBOURNE, 1890 389 
 
 prepared for our farewell concert in the evening. This, how- 
 ever, went off splendidly, and was a glorious finish to our 
 season here. Then- was ao1 an available standing-place in 
 the whole of that big Town Ball (larger than the Blanch 
 Free Trade Ball), and many hundreds had to be turned away. 
 If was an exciting evening, and no one can wish for greater 
 ovations than those thai were accorded us. We sent to the 
 hotel a whole cab-full of beautiful flowers, amongst them a 
 l;u-"v lyre in violets and white flowers from the Victorian 
 orchestra, which we esteem highly. It was an evening to be 
 remembered, and we may be sure of a good reception if ever 
 ome hark to Australia. 'Hie feeling of satisfaction when 
 we sat down to our supper, surrounded by our flowers, was 
 very pleasant, and Bent as to bed tired, but happy. We were 
 to have had luncheon with the Austrian Consul to-day, but 
 we sent an excuse yesterday, and were very glad we did so, 
 this day of absolute rest having been very enjoyable. 
 
 August 11, 1890. 
 We had a very pleasant dinner at Government House, 
 returning at 10 o'clock. To-day we are in all the bustle of 
 packing up, and at 4.40 P.M. we leave for Adelaide. 
 
 August 13, 1890. 
 
 On Monday morning our beautiful goldfinch died in 
 Wilma's hand, to our great grief. The last two days it had 
 
 i ailing, but we hoped it would get better again ; we 
 were very sorry indeed. If, according to Hector Malot, great 
 affection for animals is a sign of insanity, then Wilma and 1 
 are a very insane couple. 
 
 1 fetched our tickets for the Arcadia at the P. and O. 
 office, received a few visitors, and at 4 o'clock we left the 
 hotel, taking leave of Mrs. Menzies and her daughter, who 
 had been very kind to us. At the station we found many 
 friends, and Mr. Pinschoff travelled with us to Adelaide. 
 The journey was most comfortable; at 7 in the morning we 
 had a first-rate breakfast, with very tine fish, at Murray 
 Bridge, and at 10.20 we arrived in Adelaide. The country
 
 390 DIAFJES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 became very beautiful on nearing Adelaide ; we saw a great 
 extent, with the sea in the distance. Chief Justice Way, 
 who had ordered our rooms at the Botanic Hotel, received us 
 at the station (with several other people), and sent us off in 
 hia carriage. Half-an-hour after our arrival I was inter- 
 viewed by the reporters of the two papers, and then we had 
 an exciting scene. We had put our two white sparrows upon 
 a balcony and in the sun, when suddenly a beautiful canary 
 I ird came and settled near their cage, most eager to talk to 
 them ; it clung to the outside, hopped away, came back, 
 stuck its head through the wires, and evidently tried to get 
 to them. It was not at all afraid of us— even hopped into 
 our sitting-room and out again ; so at last we put a small 
 in its wav, with the door open and seed in it, and after 
 a while it went in and Wilma caught it very cleverly. Now 
 we have six birds again, and this one is a beauty — it has 
 probably escaped from somewhere, for canaries are not found 
 in Australia. 
 
 Yesterday evening we dined with Lord and Lady Kintore 
 and a small party. After dinner there was a grand reception 
 and a concert of Australian music, arranged in our honour, 
 followed by a little operetta, very well acted and sung by 
 four amateurs, and composed by Mr. Sharp, another amateur. 
 
 To-day at 11 o'clock the Mayor received us in the Town 
 Hall, and we had to go through the ceremony of hand- 
 shaking, as in the other towns. The town organist played us a 
 piece on the organ — a fine instrument, but the piece was not 
 interesting. Now we are going to dress for the first concert 
 here, and after it we shall be serenaded by the Liedertafel. 
 
 August 14, 1890. 
 The first concert here was a great surprise to us. Adelaide 
 boasts of being a very musical town, and the Town Hall, 
 not a very large one, was half empty. True, the weather 
 bad, but so it has been in the other towns often enough 
 without a similar result. Those that were there made noise 
 enough, and we are curious to see what to-night may bring.
 
 ADELAIDE, 1890 391 
 
 Lord and Lady Kintore were there, and were announced to 
 be there; so they do not draw here either. At 10.30 the 
 Liedertafel — a very small body of fifteen or sixteen members — 
 serenaded us, and I had to stand on the balcony, where it 
 was bitterly cold, to listen to their not remarkable singing. 
 
 August 1.5, 1890. 
 Last night's concert was little better attended than the 
 first, and our managers cannot have derived much profit from 
 it. It seems that Adelaide is the least musical town in 
 Australia ; the next concerts will show. The last one, on 
 Tuesday next, is announced to be a matinee ; so in all proba- 
 bility we shall be able to go on board the same evening, which 
 
 will be delightful. 
 
 August 17, 1890. 
 
 Last evening the house was crowded, and the demonstra- 
 tions as lively as possible. Strange that we should have had 
 to conquer the public of Adelaide by degrees, after all our 
 triumphs in the other towns. Lord Kintore and his daughters 
 
 were there again. 
 
 August 18, 1890. 
 
 The luncheon with Chief Justice Way yesterday was 
 
 extremely pleasant. He has a charming house and a 
 
 delightful garden with a fernery; besides this a splendid 
 
 collection of birds, which we admired a long time. A 
 
 beautiful squirrel and a parrot, spinning round and round 
 
 for the amusement of the visitors, were very comical. Before 
 
 luncheon we took a drive of more than an hour, which was 
 
 very enjoyable ; the situation of Adelaide is fine, the range 
 
 of hills forming a beautiful background. The most interesting 
 
 thing we saw were aloes in flower; it is said that they flower 
 
 only once in a hundred years, so we were particularly lucky. 
 
 The flower grows on a tree, from thirty to forty feet high, 
 
 with many little side branches, and shoots up in a single 
 
 day or night. It lasts a very short time and then the aloe 
 
 dies, exhausted with the effort of producing it. It is very 
 
 extraordinary, but not beautiful. We also saw an enormous 
 
 haystack on fire, causing a loss of 2,000/.
 
 392 DIARIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 In the evening we went to hear the Cathedral choir ■ 
 they Bing really well and have beautiful voices. Afterwards 
 we had supper with Mr. Arthur Boult, who has taught the 
 choir; he hails from Manchester; his father was one of the 
 directors of the Concert Hall in 1849, and I believe one of 
 the members of the first committee of the Classical Chamber 
 Music Society. There were a few more people, amongst 
 whom Mrs. Kennion, the wife of the Bishop of Adelaide, who 
 knew me from Edinburgh. 
 
 August 19, 1890. 
 The house was pretty fall last night, but there were 
 empty places here and there. This morning Poole settled 
 everything, and we are now prepared to start, this afternoon's 
 concert being the last. 
 
 We are invited to a ball at Government House, but shall 
 wisely abstain. 
 
 August 21, 1890. 
 The last concert has been given, the whole Australian 
 tour is ended, and we are in the good ship Arcadia, home- 
 ward bound. The concert was crowded, and the ovations 
 like those in Melbourne and Sydney. In the morning I had 
 tried in vain to buy a diamond-sparrow for Wilma, to replace 
 one that had flown away ; on our return from the concert 
 we found six of them, sent by the Chief Justice, who had 
 heard from Mr. Pinschoff of our loss. As I had bought a 
 zebra-finch and two mannikins, and Mr. Kose had brought 
 two more zebra-finches, we travel now with no less than 
 sixteen birds, all beautiful and most amusing. We spent 
 the last evening at the hotel, Pinschoff dining with us, and 
 were very merry. Fourteen boxes had been sent off to the 
 Arcadia in the morning, and- only three remained to 
 follow the next morning. At half-past 9 we were at the 
 station, the Consul, Mr. and Mrs. Poole, and the advance- 
 it Henry accompanying us on board, as well as two 
 gentlemen from the P. and 0. office; one a Swede, Mr. 
 Kilman. The weather was beautiful, and we reached the 
 Arcadia before 11 o'clock, and then had about two hours
 
 S.S. 'ARCADIA,' 1890 393 
 
 of great anxiety, as none of our luggage had arrived. 
 Steam-launch after steam-launch came, brought passengers, 
 all the mail-bags, but not a scrap of our luggage. The 
 bell had rung for strangers to leave, and, as we could not 
 possibly start on a month's journey without even a shirt to 
 change, we were on the point of returning to Adelaide, 
 although it meant the loss of a fortnight, the giving up of 
 the pleasure of spending a little time in Italy, and many 
 other disagreeable consequences, when a steamer, despatched 
 to the shore on purpose by our excellent Swede, at last 
 brought our treasures and changed our despair into content- 
 ment. We then took leave of all our friends, who cheered 
 us from their boat, and bade adieu to Australia. In all 
 probability we shall return next year. 
 
 The Arcadia is a splendid ship, of immense size, beauti- 
 fullv fitted up, and going so easily that we do not feel even 
 the slightest trembling from the motion of the screw. AVe 
 have indeed been liberally treated by the P. and 0. Com- 
 pany, for we have three cabins to ourselves. The deck is 
 of immense size and makes a splendid promenade. There 
 are two music-saloons, a grand smoking-room, and altogether 
 the accommodation is vastly superior to that on the Valett". 
 One great advantage is that the first-class is in the fore-part 
 and not behind the funnels, so that we never get the smoke 
 ;md shall feel the breeze much better. The Captain, Andrews, 
 is much more bluff, and perhaps less kind and obliging, than 
 our dear Briscoe was, but a very nice man all the same. The 
 number of passengers is small, perhaps only from forty to fifty. 
 
 September 1, 1890. 
 At 8 o'clock this morning we crossed the line, just four 
 months after our first crossing it. The weather is perfection, 
 cool and pleasant; we enjoy the deck more than ever. 
 Either to-morrow evening or on Wednesday morning very 
 early we shall arrive at Colombo, and we have the feeling 
 that from the equator we are going 'down-hill' towards 
 home. There will be sports this afternoon, the ship being 
 quite steady, and a concert this evening. The wide ocean
 
 394 DIAEIES AND NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 seems to be quite lifeless; we see no fish and no bird, much 
 as we look out for them. 
 
 September 5, 1890. 
 The sports on Monday afternoon were very amusing; 
 there were potato-races, spoon-and-egg races for ladies, 
 high jumps, slinging the monkey, tandem-driving by ladies, 
 the first horse being blindfolded ; and a tug-of-war to finish 
 up with. In the evening we had a concert, Wilma and I 
 playing each two little pieces, the rest being songs (two by 
 the captain). At 2 o'clock in the night we reached Colombo, 
 and at S Harry Ewart came to fetch us in the Custom House 
 Ollicers' boat which they had kindly put at our disposal. 
 He gave us the welcome news that YYinzi was alive and 
 well, and half an hour later we saw the dear little beast, 
 whose delight was touching to witness. We drove to the 
 Assembly Rooms to have a look at the piano which a 
 Mr. Sivell had kindly lent for the concert. It was a boudoir- 
 grand, by Chappell, and none of the best, but still the best 
 in Colombo. The concert took place at 9 o'clock, and was 
 very full, the Governor, Sir Henry Havelock, with his wife 
 ;u id suite being there. In spite of the climate, we did not 
 suffer much from the heat, as the doors and the windows 
 were all open. Harry, who had superintended the arrange- 
 ments, was most busy, and his anxiety for our comfort was 
 touching. After the concert he had a few friends to supper, 
 among whom were Mr. Cameron, a son of our old friend Mrs. 
 Cameron, and a former Miss Prinsep, niece of our old friend 
 Thoby Prinsep, who had often seen me at Little Holland 
 House, in the olden time, when she was quite young. This 
 made the evening doubly interesting to me, and we did not 
 go to bed before half-past two in the morning. The next 
 d ty Harry and his wife brought us back to the Arcadia, 
 and remained with us until the start, shortly after four. 
 They have been uncommonly kind to us, and we parted from 
 them very reluctantly. The weather looked very threaten- 
 ing, and we were afraid of a rough sea, instead of which it
 
 MILAN, 1890 305 
 
 proved to be a very mild one, no fiddles being necessary 
 during meals. 
 
 September 28, 1890. 
 
 On Thursday evening the first-class passengers had a 
 fancy ball, to which the second-class were invited. It began 
 by a grand procession, passing before and bowing to the 
 captain and myself. Some of the costumes were very comical, 
 and altogether it was a success, and was kept up till mid- 
 night, the ship rushing along all the while at the rate of 
 10 miles an hour. In the afternoon we had passed along the 
 coast of Morea, the Ionian Islands, &c. ; the view of Zante, 
 with the setting sun upon its red rocks, being particularly 
 fine. When we came on deck yesterday morning at 7 o'clock 
 we found ourselves close to Brindisi and the flat shores of that 
 part of Italy, and heard that we should arrive at 8 o'clock, for 
 which hour breakfast was also announced. The Adriatic was 
 as blue and glassy as the Mediterranean had been, and the 
 weather altogether too lovely. We were at our breakfast, 
 and had not even perceived that the ship had touched the 
 quay, when somebody touched my shoulder ; I looked up and 
 shouted ' Ludwig.' ' upon which Wilma gave a shriek and 
 fell upon his shoulders, sobbing for joy. We had not 
 expected to see him there. Shortly after we said good-bye 
 to the captain, the officers and some of the passengers, recom- 
 mended all our things and the fifteen birds to C, distri- 
 buted the pour-boires and left the ship. At 11.30 we left 
 Brindisi by the special train, and arrived here at Milan at 
 9 o'clock this morning. 
 
 And so ends this eventful voyage, which has been 
 successful in every sense of the word. We bring home a 
 rich store of pleasant recollections, have enjoyed perfect health, 
 and can say with truth that nothing occurred to mar our 
 happiness for a single moment. And for this let us be 
 grateful ! ! 
 
 1 Lady Hallo's eldest son.
 
 396 NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 III 
 
 Extracts from Letters written during Sir Chahles and 
 Lady Halle's Tour in South Africa, in 1895 
 
 Grand Hotel, Capetown, 
 
 July 30, 1895. 
 
 The mail only goes to-morrow ; so I can add a few lines 
 to my letter, and tell you that we have safely arrived here at 
 half-past one in the morning, about eight hours sooner than 
 we expected. Oar agent was with us long before breakfast, 
 and gave me the agreeable news that he had postponed the 
 concerts here one day in order to give us a day of rest ; the 
 Tantallon Castle will actually wait for us until Friday, 
 instead of sailing on Thursday. More still, the ship will wait 
 for us three or four days longer at Port Elizabeth, in order to 
 take us on to Durban. So you see we are a good deal thought 
 of. another proof of which is that for the two concerts here 
 not a single ticket remains unsold, so that some of the pas- 
 sengers who wanted to go are disappointed. I have got one 
 seat for the captain in our manager's own box. This hotel is 
 very good, and we have capital rooms. 
 
 We have just returned from a most wonderful drive, 
 which alone would have been worth the trouble of coming 
 here. The view over the town from the height reminded me 
 very much of Naples and the drive along the coast of the 
 ' Corniche.' We drove through the 'Kloof (Dutch for 
 cleft) between the Table Mountain and the Lion's Head, and 
 back round by Sea Point; it was simply enchanting, and 
 took upwards of two hours. We certainly had no idea that 
 this was such a beautiful place — not the town, but the 
 situation. 
 
 I found a most nice letter from G. here, who says that the 
 tickets for our concerts at Johannesburg are selling most 
 rapidly, although it will be a full month before we get there. 
 They say our tour this year will be a royal triumph, and already 
 ask if we will not come back next year for a little longer.
 
 PORT ELIZABETH, 1895 397 
 
 Here, at the hotel, we were received with ever so many 
 bouquets, sent by people right and left ; our sitting-room is 
 so full of flowers that it looks like a greenhouse, and such 
 flowers ! It is mid-winter here, but not a bit cold, and the 
 air is most exhilarating. We already know that we shall 
 return in the Scot, the largest and fastest ship of the Union 
 Line, larger than the Tantallon. We shall leave Cape 
 Town on September 11, and be in London on the 27th; I 
 can therefore be in Manchester on the 28th, two days before 
 I am wanted. 
 
 Wilma will have to go to Denmark on October 11 or 12, 
 and not come back before about November 23, as she will 
 have a whole series of concerts. 
 
 Now you know all about our doings, and I wish I knew 
 as much about yours and all the other dear ones. Once more 
 I say, give them all my love and keep writing, and tell me 
 what news you have of Anna. 
 
 Grand Hotel, Port Elizabeth, 
 
 August 5, 1895. 
 
 I wrote to you from Cape Town, where, since then, we 
 have given two concerts with enormous success; they took 
 place in the Opera House, a charming theatre, and were 
 crowded. On Friday morning we were on board again at 
 1 o'clock, and had the most wonderful passage round the 
 Cape of Good Hope to this place. We were constantly about 
 a mile or two from the coast, which is remarkably fine, and 
 you may imagine that we looked at the Cape with more than 
 common interest, as it is one of the places with the name of 
 which one has been familiar all one's life. It is a very bold 
 and striking-looking Cape indeed, and the sea, which is said 
 to be generally wild and rough about it, behaved splendidly 
 to us ; there was no rolling and no pitching. 
 
 We arrived here on Saturday afternoon, two hours before 
 we were expected, and were received ou landing by the 
 Deputy-Mayor and a few aldermen. The whole Corporation 
 had meant to be there, but on account of our arriving so
 
 308 NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 much too soon the Mayor could not be found. Bouquets were 
 
 Jit to Wilma on board ship, and a nice landau was 
 waiting to take us to this hotel, which is on the top of a hill, 
 and from which the view over the town, harbour, and the sea 
 is simply enchanting. 
 
 Sat urday evening the concert took place in a very beautiful 
 hall, and there was such a scene of excitement as I have 
 seldom witnessed. The roaring of the audience outdid any 
 Yorkshire or Lancashire roaring sevenfold, and Wilma espe- 
 cially carried everything before her. Yesterday was a day 
 which cannot be described ; it was simply heavenly. There 
 was not the smallest cloud to be seen in the sky, and since 
 we spent that happy month of August in Venice, when I 
 used to look out of the open window at 6 o'clock in the 
 morning, I have never experienced such happiness by merely 
 inhaling the air as here. 
 
 We have a splendid verandah before our rooms, where we 
 sit almost the whole day, and do nothing but exclaim over 
 and over again : beautiful ! heavenly ! splendid ! 
 
 Who should call on Saturday shortly after our arrival but 
 a brother of Otto Goldschmidt, E. Goldschmidt, who was one 
 of the principal directors of the Bradford concerts when they 
 were first started, and whom I had known there for many 
 years. He has been here for the last 12 years, and has a 
 very large business. We dined with him yesterday, Sunday ; 
 very pleasant it was to be able to talk of the olden times. 
 
 This is the place for ostrich feathers, and Mr. Goldschmidt 
 is going to make a present of a lot of them to Wilma to-day; 
 she is allowed to choose what she likes for a boa and a fan. 
 To-night is our second concert, and to-morrow we leave at 
 1 - o'clock for Grahamstown, where we shall arrive at 6, for 
 the concert at 8.30. The next day we rest there, and we 
 have been told that the neighbourhood is one of the finest in 
 Africa. On Thursday we shall drive the whole day in a 
 landau with four horses to get to King Williamstown. We 
 
 er thai to a very long and roundabout railway journey, 
 which would take much more time, especially as the country
 
 KING WILLIAMSTOWN, 1895 309 
 
 which we shall have to pass through is said to be remarkably 
 fine. From King Williamstown we go by rail to East 
 London, where probably a concert will be given which is Dot 
 on our list ; and from East London to Durban by sea. There 
 I shall at last get letters from yon, which cannot reach us 
 earlier on account of the enormous distances. 
 
 They call the months of July and August mid-winter 
 here, but the warmth is just like a beautiful June day in 
 England ; 1 wear no top-coat, and feel very comfortable. 
 The mail leaves here to-night 3 and the further East we go 
 the sooner in the week it will leave. I shall endeavour to 
 write by every one. 
 
 In five weeks and two days we shall be on board the 
 S ', on our return journey. Once more, fond love to all. 
 
 King Williamstown, 
 
 August 10, 1895. 
 1 believe I wrote last from Port Elizabeth, where we had 
 two eminently successful concerts. On Tuesday afternoon 
 we left for Grahamstown by a train (the only one in the dav), 
 which was to arrive al 6.20 P.M., but did not do so before 
 6.40, and as we had a concert at 8.30, we saw with alarm 
 the .Mayor and the town clerk at the station to receive and 
 harangue us, and some young damsels with bouquets for 
 Wilma. They cut it short, however, and we had time to 
 eat a little before we had to play. The room was crowded 
 again, and the shouting something to remember. We are a 
 bit astonished to see the halls so well tilled, for the towns are 
 remarkably small, but very pretty and full of gardens. 
 Grahamstown being away from the coast, we there got a 
 first glimpse of African life, and very striking it was. Carts 
 drawn by a team of sixteen oxen are plentiful and very 
 picturesque, but the strangest sight is that of the ostriches 
 being brought to market. Troops of thirty or forty march 
 iily, two by two, just like a regiment of soldiers, and 
 look extremely funny. To go from Grahamstown to this 
 place we had our choice of the railway, which lakes two 
 nights aud a day, or of driving nearly six hours a day and
 
 400 NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 sleeping at Breakfastoley, a halfway house. We chose the 
 latter, as you would have clone, not knowing what was in 
 store for us. Such roads, or rather no roads, we had no idea of, 
 and we were jolted as I hope we shall never be again. Only 
 two-wheeled carts can traverse them, drawn by six horses, 
 holding six persons, including the driver, upon two benches, 
 which, however, are pretty comfortable. In spite of all draw- 
 backs, we are not sorry to have had the experience, for we 
 have seen many curious things ; the first day we had ostriches 
 to the right and to the left from about 12 o'clock when we 
 left until 5, when we got to Breakfastoley, a very unpretend- 
 ing and very clean little inn, only one storey high, and 
 standing quite alone. The next day we saw no ostriches, but 
 drove past numbers of Kaffir huts and villages, which were 
 far more interesting. The huts look like big mushrooms, 
 having only one door and no windows whatever, and the 
 Kaffirs themselves, draped in their brownish yellow togas, 
 are an extraordinary sight. It was worth a good deal of 
 discomfort to see them. Eight miles before reaching King 
 William stown we saw two carriages standing in the road, 
 and gentlemen beside them, who stopped us. They were the 
 Mayor and the German Consul who had come out to meet us ; 
 id. a Mr. Lehmann, who had his mother-in-law with 
 him, made Wilma take a seat in his carriage, and the Mayor 
 got hold of me, and they brought us to the house of a Mr. 
 Dyer, a very rich man, who, being absent himself, had put 
 his house and his German servants at our disposal, and here we 
 have been living in clover these two days, with champagne at 
 dinner and supper. The concert yesterday was excellent, 
 and at 2 p.m. we leave for East London, from whence we 
 leave to-morrow by sea for Durban. 
 
 This is midwinter here, the thermometer standing in the 
 sun at 141 degrees ! What may the summer be ! And now 
 good-bye once more, and love to everybody. We are both 
 remarkably well, and I begin to think that we shall come 
 back younger than when we left England.
 
 JOHANNESBURG, 1895 401 
 
 Johannesburg: August 22, 1895. 
 My last letter to you was from Durban, which we left the 
 next morning for Pietermaritzburg. We were again received 
 at the station by the Mayor and his wife and lots of other 
 people, and driven in state to the Imperial Hotel, kept by a 
 widow, a Manchester woman, and frequenter of my concerts 
 there, who made us most comfortable. Up to the present I 
 have met Manchester people in every place, so that we often 
 say it was hardly worth while to come all this way. We had 
 our concert the same evening, which was crammed and very 
 satisfactory. I enclose one newspaper article as a specimen ; 
 they are all very much alike. Pietermaritzburg being the 
 capital of Natal, the public seemed to be more distingu^, and 
 included many officers, who looked very bright. During the 
 evening the Mayor came with the request that we should pla}^ 
 one piece at a concert which the Corporation would give on 
 Sunda/y afternoon at 4 o'clock. Think of that ! a concert 
 given on a Sunday by the municipality of an English colony ! 
 The tickets were only 2s. and Is., but the very fine Town 
 Hall was crowded. We played the Kreutzer Sonata, after an 
 organ solo and one song had been given, and when we had 
 finished a member of the Corporation came forward and said 
 that after the impression just received it would be best to 
 omit the rest of the programme, upon which the public 
 cheered and dispersed. 
 
 The Governor, Sir Walter Hely-Hutchinson, had only 
 returned from Zululand on Saturday evening, but sent his 
 aide-de-camp early on Sunday morning to the hotel to invite 
 us to luncheon. We found him a very charming man, and 
 his wife a perfectly lovely woman, with most beautiful 
 children. They all went to the concert in the afternoon. 
 At 10.30 the same evening we left by rail, in comfortable 
 sleeping carriages, for Johannesburg. From daylight on 
 Monday morning the journey was very interesting, the 
 scenery unlike any we had seen before. We crossed the 
 battlefield of Majuba Hill, where the English were annihilated 
 
 DD
 
 402 NOTES OF TRAVEL 
 
 by the Boers in 1877, and the railway climbs higher and 
 higher until it reaches Charlestown, 5,800 feet high. 
 
 At 3.20 p.m. on Monday last we reached Standerton, and 
 there the railwav ends for the present. An enormous coach 
 was waiting for us at the station, just the same sort of 
 coach as the one which Buffalo Bill had in his show, drawn 
 by ten horses and driven from the box. In this we were 
 quite comfortable, as there was room for twelve inside, and 
 we drove two hours more to a place called Waterfall, a single 
 farm house, where they take passengers in. We got a good 
 dinner, very simple, of course, excellent German beer, and 
 bedrooms in plenty. 
 
 Tuesday morning we left at eight, got luncheon at Heidel- 
 berg, forded a number of streams in our coach, for bridges are 
 verv scarce in this country, and about half an hour before 
 reaching Johannesburg to my great joy found Gustav waiting 
 for us by the roadside ; he is well and hearty and looks 
 unchanged. He is very busy, but gives us as much of his 
 time as he can, and it is a great delight to me to be once 
 more with him, although only for so short a time. 
 
 Johannesburg: September 1, 1895. 
 
 My last letter actually, for the next mail will carry our- 
 selves home after a wonderfully interesting, successful, and 
 verv short trip. One of my greatest pleasures has been, of 
 course, to spend a whole fortnight with Gus. 
 
 Since last I wrote we have been twice to Pretoria, and 
 here we give this evening, Sunday evening, our fifth concert. 
 On our second visit to Pretoria I was introduced to President 
 Kriiger by his Prime Minister, and found him an ugly but 
 very energetic-looking man, in manners a real Boer. I shall 
 give details when I see you. Altogether, I need not write 
 much to-day, because one week after you receive this I can tell 
 you all so much better. 
 
 Yesterday we went down a gold mine, one of the best 
 
 here, took luncheon with Gus, and in the evening went to the 
 
 tre to see a stupid but very laughable and well-acted 
 
 farce. To-day (I write early) we shall see a Kaffir dance, got
 
 BL0EMF0NTE1N, 1895 403 
 
 up entirely in our honour, about which I shall add a few words 
 before closing my letter. The dance is fixed for 11 o'clock ; 
 at half-past one we take luncheon with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers 
 (he is one of the most Lmportanl men here), where there will 
 be a garden party in tin' afternoon and the concert begins at 
 9 o'clock to-night. The weather is always the same, the sky 
 intensely blue, without a single cloud, the days very warm, 
 and the nights somewhat fresh. -Johannesburg has, however, 
 one great drawback: the dust, which lies at least 3 inches 
 deep in every street and every road. We have had one windy 
 day. when the clouds of dust were extraordinary to look at 
 and certainly not pleasant. We had quite enough with that 
 one day, and fortunately have not experienced a second. 
 
 We leave to-morrow at twelve, and arrive at Bloemfontein 
 after midnight (by rail, of course), and give a concert there 
 on Tuesday. On Wednesday we go to Kimberley, have 
 concerts there on Thursday and Friday ; shall visit the biggest 
 diamond mine, and on Saturday leave for Cape Town, where 
 we give a farewell concert on Tuesday, the 10th, and on the 
 1 1th we go on board the Scot. 
 
 You all seem to have had very bad weather, for which we 
 have In «'ii sorry. We do not any longer know what bad 
 weather means. 
 
 W T e have just come back from the dance, a most extraor- 
 dinary wild scene it was. There were about 1,000 Kaffirs and 
 Zulus, well-armed with long sticks instead of assegais, singing 
 their war songs, dancing and rushing about in the most be- 
 wildering manner, and still always orderly. They gave us 
 tremendous salutes, and when the performance was half over, 
 the chief, a most noble-looking fellow, walked up and was in- 
 troduced to Wilma,and said some nice things which were trans- 
 lated to her. Altogether it was worth coming to Africa for; 
 we could never have got an idea of it elsewhere. 
 
 And now, a/u n voir very soon. We are as well as possible, 
 and have enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I hope the house is 
 in tip-top order, and that the building at the College will be 
 finished in good time. 
 
 D D 2
 
 APPENDICES 
 
 A German Critic on Mr. Charles Hall£ in 1841. 
 
 (Translated from the German.') 
 
 The celebrated critic A. Schindler thus wrote of my father in 
 1841 : — 'Shall I speak once more to German lovers of music 
 of this young artist, whom I mentioned with praise in my 
 " Beethoven in Paris " ? I may be permitted to do so otherwise 
 than in the usual form, as Mr. Halle himself as a pianist is an 
 exception to the general rule. At any rate, I wish in this way 
 to bring this interesting artist nearer to the German musical 
 world, to whom lie is almost unknown, and to bring him into 
 closer contact with it. Let us endeavour once again to sift thp 
 chaff from the wheat. Three days after my arrival in Paris (in 
 January of last year) I received an invitation to a musical soiree 
 at Erard's. In the amiable note occurred the phrase : " You 
 will meet many artists and literary celebrities, and will also find 
 several fellow-countrymen." The assembly must have numbered 
 over four hundred persons, more than half of them ladies, among 
 whom I could not find a single good-looking one, perhaps in con- 
 sequence of having been spoilt by the frequentation of German 
 salons and concert-rooms. It was otherwise with the male 
 portion of the party, many of whom were handsome, and had 
 strikingly interesting faces, amongst them some tremendous 
 beards, and heads of hair that flowed over their shoulders. The 
 sight carried me back to some of the synagogues I had visited in 
 the Jewish towns of Austria, and it required some effort not to 
 laugh aloud at this masquerade. In this pell-mell of artists, 
 literati, bankers, and diplomates, I noticed a fair young man, 
 whose figure and whole appearance bore a very striking resem-
 
 406 APPENDIX I 
 
 blance to the princes of the Imperial House of Austria. In 
 answer to the inquiry who the young man was, my hostess 
 replied, " It is Mr. Halle, a remarkable pianist, and a country- 
 man of your own, whom I will introduce to you at once." This 
 was done forthwith. His appearance, coupled with a natural 
 modesty, the information he gave me that he was born at Hagen 
 in the county of Mark, and that he had studied under the old 
 master, Rinck, at Darmstadt before coming to this musical Babel, 
 made this young artist, amid the legion of his fellows, still more 
 attractive to me. My subsequent acquaintance with his beautiful 
 talent, which I often had the opportunity of admiring in the 
 performance of great classical works, made me rank him at once 
 among the most noteworthy artists of this great capital, among 
 those who strive after a high ideal. The readers of my aforesaid 
 pamphlet will remember what hopes I set upon this youth — hopes 
 that were being discussed in Germany at the moment of my 
 second visit to Paris. I had barely arrived when I heard the 
 news that Mr. Halle - had quite changed his original style of 
 playing, and had adopted the passionate and demonstrative 
 manner of Liszt, and banged, hammered, and thumped like him. 
 A second and a third messenger of ill news brought the same 
 intelligence. 
 
 • It will be understood what a painful impression this made 
 upon me, and how I wished that the forerunner of these musical 
 fooleries were safe at Charenton, where a cell should have been 
 prepared for him long before his bad example had enticed young 
 talents to follow in his track. Meanwhile the change of Mr. 
 Halle's intellectuality for Mr. Liszt's fanfaronades was accom- 
 plished, as I soon had the opportunity of being convinced. 
 Annoyance at having ranked this young man, according to the 
 best of my conviction, among the very foremost of the elect, 
 shame that by this classification I had done a wrong to the true 
 interests of art, and had over and above compromised my musical 
 judgment, were the feelings that; for some time possessed me, 
 but also determined me that it was my duty to interfere, and to 
 attempt to deliver from the musical Beelzebub this soul, whom 
 some already counted among the lost. I succeeded, and before I 
 left Paris for the second time I had the delight to see this young 
 artist, in whom so many take the warmest interest, once again 
 upon the right road which leads to Parnassus, where there is no 
 chase after ribbons and orders, but after true knowledge and 
 worthiness.'
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 407 
 
 II 
 
 List of Works, with the number of times they were 
 performed at slr charles halle's concerts at the 
 Free Trade Hall, Manchester, durinu thirty-seven 
 years, 1858-1895. 
 
 OR 
 
 J. S. Bach. 
 The Passion Music, St. Matthew 
 
 Beethoven. 
 The Mount of Olives 
 
 Benedict. 
 St. Peter .... 
 
 Berlioz. 
 The Childhood of Christ 
 
 Costa. 
 
 Eli 
 
 Kaaman 
 
 Dvorak. 
 St. Ludmilla .... 
 
 Gounod. 
 The Redemption 
 
 ATORIOS. 
 
 Haydn. 
 The Creation . 
 The Seasons . 
 
 Liszt. 
 St. Elizabeth . 
 
 Macfarren. 
 St. John the Baptist 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 
 The Rose of Sharon 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 St. Paul . 
 Elijah . 
 
 Parry, Hubert. 
 
 Mors et Vita 
 
 Handel. 
 The Messiah . 
 Judas Maccabaeus . 
 Samson . 
 Solomon. 
 Jephtha . 
 Israel in Egypt 
 Joshua . 
 Saul 
 
 Belshazzar 
 Theodora 
 
 2 
 1 
 
 55 
 16 
 5 
 1 
 6 
 4 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 2 
 
 Judith 
 
 Rossini. 
 Moses in Egypt 
 
 Rubinstein. 
 Paradise Lost 
 
 Spohr. 
 The Last Judgment 
 
 Stanford. 
 The Three Holy Children 
 
 Sullivan 
 The Light of the World . 
 
 CHORAL WORKS, NOT ORATORIOS. 
 Barnett. 
 
 The Ancient Mariner 
 
 Beethoven. 
 
 Fidelio . 
 
 Music to Egmont . 
 
 . 21 
 . 5 
 
 . 1 
 
 . 2 
 
 . 1 
 
 . 8 
 . 29 
 
 . 1 
 
 . 2 
 
 . 1 
 
 . 2 
 
 . 1 
 
 . 2 
 
 Mass in C . . . .4 
 
 Mass in D . . .3 
 
 ' Hallelujah ' from Mount of 
 
 Olives .... 2 
 
 Becker, Albert. 
 Geistlicher Dialog . . .1
 
 40S 
 
 APrEXDIX II 
 
 Benedict. 
 
 St. Cecilia .... 1 
 
 Bennett, Stcrndale. 
 Exhibition Ode . -2 
 
 Woman of Samaria . 2 
 
 The May Queen ... 1 
 
 Berlioz. 
 FauBt 1G 
 
 Brahms. 
 German Requiem . . .2 
 Rinaldo . • • • • 1 
 
 Cherubini. 
 Requiem in C minor . . 1 
 Mass No. 4 in C major . . 1 
 
 David, F. 
 
 The Desert .... 2 
 
 Dvordl;. 
 
 Stahat Mater .... 1 
 
 The Spectre's Bride . . 3 
 
 Requiem .... 1 
 
 GlucTi. 
 Iphigenia in Tauris . . 4 
 
 Orpheus 4 
 
 Armida . . . . .1 
 First Act of Alcestis . . 1 
 
 Gounod. 
 Messe Solennelle . . .5 
 ( > Suhitaris Hostia . . . 3 
 Gallia 1 
 
 Handel. 
 
 L'Allegro ed il Pensieroso . 1 
 
 Zadok the Priest . . .3 
 
 Acis and Galatea . . .2 
 
 Alexander's Feast . . .1 
 
 Ode to St. Cecilia . . .1 
 
 Hecht. 
 Eric the Dane . . .1 
 
 Macfarren. 
 The Lady of the Lake . . 1 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 Jason 1 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 
 Music to ' A Midsummer 
 
 Night's Dream ' . . 10 
 
 Finale to Loreley . . .3 
 
 Hymn of Praise . . .17 
 
 Psalm, ' As the Hart Pants ' . 2 
 Psalm, ' When Israel Out of 
 
 Egypt Came ' . . .2 
 
 The First Walpurgis Night . 11 
 
 Hymn, ' Hear my Prayer ' . 3 
 
 Psalm, ' Judge Me, God ' . 2 
 
 Mozart. 
 Requiem 
 
 ' Die Zauberflote ' . 
 Finale of First Act ' Don Gio 
 
 vanni ' 
 ' Le Nozze di Figaro ' 
 Chorus, ' Sweet Peace De 
 
 scending,' Idomeneo 
 Ave Verum 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 10 
 1 
 
 Rossini. 
 Stabat Mater . 
 Messe Solennelle 
 First Act of ' Guillaume Tell ' 1 
 
 Bubinstein. 
 The Tower of Babel . . 1 
 
 Schubert. 
 Mass in E flat . . .1 
 
 Schumann. 
 
 Paradise and the Peri . . 2 
 Second and Third Parts of 
 Music to ' Faust ' . .1 
 
 Saint- Saens. 
 ' Samson et Dalila ' . . 2 
 
 Spontini. 
 
 Finale, Second Act from ' La 
 Vestale ' . . . .1 
 
 Sullivan. 
 
 Music to ' The Tempest '. . 2 
 The Prodigal Son . . .1 
 On Shore and Sea . . .1 
 Music to ' The Merchant of 
 
 , Venice ' . . . .1 
 The Golden Legend . . 6 
 
 Verdi. 
 Requiem 3 
 
 Wagner. 
 Closing Scene of Act I. ' Par- 
 sifal ' . . . . .1 
 Act III. ' Tannhiiuser ' . .3 
 Act III. ' Lohengrin ' .3
 
 APPENDIX If 
 
 400 
 
 Flying I Dutchman . . .1 
 1- 1\ ing Dutchman, Act II. and 
 Act III 2 
 
 Weh r. 
 
 ' Der Freischiitz ' . 
 ' l'reciosa ' 
 
 SYMPHONIES, &c. 
 
 Alert. 
 Columbus 
 
 2 
 
 Beethoven 
 
 
 No. 1 in C 
 No. 2 in D 
 
 No. 3 in E flat ' Eroica ' 
 No. 4 in B flat 
 No. 5 in C minor . 
 No. 6 in F Pastorale 
 
 No. 7 in A 
 
 No. 8 in F . . . 
 No. 9 in I> minor, Choral 
 Battle Symphony . 
 
 . 4 
 . 12 
 
 . 15 
 . 12 
 
 . 18 
 . 23 
 . 17 
 . 14 
 . 8 
 . 2 
 
 Bennett, Sterndalr. 
 
 
 In G minor 
 
 . 1 
 
 Berlioz. 
 
 
 Harold in Italy 
 Fantastique 
 Borneo and Juliet . 
 
 . 4 
 . 6 
 . 3 
 
 Brahms. 
 
 
 Serenade in D 
 
 Adagio, Minuet and Finr 
 
 Serenade in A 
 In C minor, ( Ip. G8 
 In D, Op. 73 . 
 In 1'. Op. 90 . 
 In E minor, Op. 98 
 
 . 1 
 de, 
 . 1 
 . 1 
 . 5 
 . 2 
 2 
 
 Bruch, Max. 
 
 
 No. 3 in G 
 
 . 1 
 
 Cowen. 
 
 
 No. 3, ' Scandinavian ' . 
 
 . 2 
 
 Dvorak. 
 
 No. 1 in D 
 No. 2 in D minor . 
 No. 3 in F 
 No. 4 in G 
 
 No. 5 in B minor ' From 
 New World ' 
 
 . 2 
 . 1 
 . 2 
 . 2 
 ,he 
 . 1 
 
 Garfe. 
 
 
 No. 1 in C minor . 
 
 No. 3 in A minor . 
 
 No. 4 in B flat 
 
 No. 8 in L minor . 
 
 . 4 
 
 . 1 
 
 2 
 
 . 1 
 
 Goetz. 
 In F 
 
 Gold/mark. 
 
 ' Liindliche Hochzeit' 
 
 Gouvy, Th. 
 Sinfonietta in D, Op. 80 . 
 
 German, Ed. 
 Symphony in A minor . 
 
 Haijiln. 
 
 In E flat (Salomon No. 1) 
 
 In D (Salomon No. 2) 
 
 In E flat (Salomon No. 3) 
 
 In D (Salomon No. 4) . 
 
 In D (Salomon No. 5) 
 
 In G ' Surprise ' (Salomon 
 
 No. 6) . 
 In C (Salomon No. 7) . 
 In B flat (Salomon No. 8) 
 In C minor (Salomon No. 9) 
 In D (Salomon No. 10) . 
 In G, Military (Salomon 
 
 No. 11) 
 In B flat (Salomon No. 12) 
 In F sharp minor, ' Abschied 
 
 (Pohl No. 11) 
 In E minor (Pohl No. 13) 
 In A (Pohl No. 30) . 
 In D 'La Chasse' (Poh 
 
 No. 40) ... 
 In E flat (Pohl No. 45) . 
 In 1> minor (Pohl Xo. 49) 
 InC ' I/ours' (Pohl Xo. 52) 
 In minor 'La Poule ' (Poll 
 
 No. 53) ... 
 
 In B flat ' La Peine de 
 
 France ' (Pohl No. 55) 
 Tn G (Pohl No. 58). 
 In C (Pohl No. 60) . 
 In G 'Oxford' (Pohl Xo. 61) 
 In E flal (Pohl No. 63) . 
 In D 
 
 Hccht. 
 
 In F
 
 410 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 Hubcr, Hans. 
 
 
 
 
 Saint-Saens. 
 
 
 Serenade in G, ' Summer 
 
 
 In E flat 
 
 1 
 
 Nights' 
 
 
 l 
 
 Schubert. 
 
 
 Lachner. 
 
 
 
 In B flat 
 
 1 
 
 - Suite ' No. 2, Op. 115 in 
 
 E 
 
 
 In B minor, unfinished . 
 
 13 
 
 minor .... 
 
 
 l 
 
 In C 
 
 9 
 
 • Suite ' No. G, in C . 
 
 
 l 
 
 Tragic, No. 5 in C minor 
 
 1 
 
 • Ball Suite * in D . 
 
 • 
 
 l 
 
 Schubert and Joachim. 
 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 
 
 
 In C 
 
 1 
 
 No. 1 in C minor . 
 No. 2 ' Reformation ' 
 
 • 
 
 l 
 
 3 
 
 Sgambati. 
 
 
 No. 3 ' Scotch ' in A minor 
 
 
 19 
 
 In D, Op. 16 . 
 
 1 
 
 No. 4 ' Italian ' in A 
 
 
 17 
 
 Schumann. 
 
 
 Mozart. 
 
 
 
 No. 1 in B flat 
 
 7 
 
 In D (Xo. 1) . 
 
 In G minor (No. 2) 
 
 
 • 
 
 7 
 12 
 
 No. 2 in C 
 No. 3 in E flat 
 
 5 
 
 7 
 
 In E flat (No. 3) . 
 In C ' Jupiter ' (No. 4) 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 No. 4 in D minor . 
 
 5 
 
 
 . 
 
 12 
 
 Overture, Scherzo and Finale 
 
 5 
 
 In D (No. 5) . 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 in E 
 
 In C (No. 6) . 
 
 
 • 
 
 4 
 
 Spohr. 
 
 
 In D ' Parisian ' 
 
 
 • 
 
 4 
 2 
 
 ' The Power of Sound ' . 
 
 7 
 
 In C 
 
 
 • 
 
 No. 3 in C minor, Op. 78 
 
 1 
 
 Hafner Serenade, in D 
 
 
 . 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Serenade, No. 9, in D 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Stanford. 
 
 
 MoszkmvsJii. 
 
 
 
 ' Irish Symphony ' . 
 
 1 
 
 Orchestral Suite, in F, Op. 
 
 39 
 
 1 
 
 Sullivan. 
 
 
 Baff. 
 
 
 
 InE 
 
 1 
 
 ' Leonora ' in E 
 
 
 4 
 
 Svendsen. 
 
 
 In G minor, Op. 167 
 
 
 1 
 
 In B flat, Op. 15 . 
 
 1 
 
 ' Im Walde ' in F . 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 ' Suite im Ungarischen Styl 
 
 
 Tschai'koivs'kij. 
 
 
 in F, Op. 194 
 
 
 2 
 
 No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64 
 
 1 
 
 'Winter' 
 
 
 1 
 
 No. 6 in B minor, ' Pathe- 
 
 
 ' Fruhlingsklange ' in A major 1 
 
 tique ' . 
 
 1 
 
 Rubinstein. 
 
 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 
 ' Ocean ' in C . 
 
 cr 
 
 . 1 
 
 ^EE 
 
 In C major 
 TUEES. 
 
 1 
 
 Adam. 
 
 
 
 Le Cheval de Bronze 
 
 . 2 
 
 Giralda .... 
 
 
 . 1 
 
 Gustave" .... 
 
 . 5 
 
 Le Brasseur de Preston . 
 
 
 . 2 
 
 Le Serment 
 Le Philtre 
 
 . 1 
 . 1 
 
 Auber. 
 
 
 
 Le Macon 
 
 . 2 
 
 Masaniello 
 
 
 . 16 
 
 Les Diamants de la Couronne 
 
 1 >iavolo . 
 
 
 . 18 
 
 Le Lac des Fees 
 
 . 5 
 
 Le Domino Noir 
 
 
 . 7 
 
 Haydee .... 
 
 . 3 
 
 La Sirene 
 
 
 . 12 
 
 Le Due d'Olonne . 
 
 . 1 
 
 Zanetta .... 
 
 
 . 11 
 
 Exhibition Overture 
 
 . 2 
 
 Le Dieu et la Bayadere 
 
 
 
 . 4 
 
 L'Ambassadrice 
 
 . 5
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 411 
 
 La Part Ju Diable . 
 Lee Chaperons blancs 
 Ijestocq . 
 
 L'Enfant Prodigue . 
 Marco Spada . 
 
 Bach, J. S. 
 Overture from Suite in D 
 
 Balfe. 
 The Bohemian Girl 
 The Sie<*e of Rochelle 
 
 i hoven. 
 
 Pidelio . 
 
 Leonora, No. 1 
 
 Leonora, No. 2 
 
 Leonora, No. 3 
 
 Egmont . 
 
 Coriolan . 
 
 Namensfeier, Op. 115 
 
 Weihe des Hauses, Op. 124 
 
 (Festival) 
 King Stephen . 
 The Ruins of Athens 
 Prometheus 
 
 Benedict. 
 The Crusaders 
 
 Bennett, Stemdale. 
 
 The Wood Nymphs 
 The Naiads 
 
 Parisina .... 
 Paradise and the Peri 
 
 Berlioz. 
 Les Francs Juges . 
 Le Carnaval Romain 
 Benvenuto Cellini . 
 Waverley 
 King Lear 
 
 Bishop. 
 The Miller and his Men 
 
 11 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 3 
 
 Bizet. 
 
 Tatrie 
 
 BoiehJicii. 
 
 La Dame Blanche . 
 
 Le Chaperon Rouge 
 
 Jean de Paris . 
 
 Le Caliphe de Bagdad 
 
 Les deux Nuits 
 
 16 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 21 
 
 15 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 17 
 
 10 
 
 3 
 
 6 
 
 "Brahma. 
 
 Academic Festival . 
 Tragic 
 
 Brull. 
 
 Macbeth . 
 
 Cherubini. 
 Faniska . 
 Anacreon 
 
 Les deux Journees . 
 Les Abencerages 
 Medea . 
 Lodoiska 
 Elise 
 
 L'Hotellerie Portugaise 
 Ali Baba 
 Concert-Overture in G 
 
 9 
 17 
 10 
 9 
 
 4 
 5 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 
 Dietrich. 
 
 Normannenfahrt (The Nor- 
 mans) . . . . .1 
 
 Donizetti. 
 
 La Fille du Regiment . . 1 
 
 Dvorak. 
 
 ' Mem Heim ' . . . .1 
 
 Husitska ... .1 
 Carnival . .... 1 
 
 Cornelius, Peter. 
 
 Der Barbier von Bagdad . 1 
 
 Flotoxv. 
 
 Stradella . . . . 4 
 
 Martha . . . . .2 
 Biibezahl .... 1 
 
 Gade. 
 
 ' Im Hochland ' . . .5 
 
 Hamlet . . . . .8 
 
 Ossian . . . . .7 
 
 Michael Angelo . . .3 
 
 Nordische Sennfahrt . . 2 
 
 Marietta 1 
 
 Gernsheitn. 
 
 ' Waldmeister's Brautfahrt ' . 1 
 
 Gluck. 
 
 Iphigenia in Aulis . . . 8 
 
 Goetz. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew . . 1 
 
 Fruhlines-Ouvertiire . . 1
 
 412 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 Gohlmark. 
 
 
 Mehul. 
 
 
 Sakuntala 
 
 2 
 
 La Chasse du jeune Henri 
 
 3 
 
 • ha l'ruhling ' 
 
 1 
 
 Joseph .... 
 
 5 
 
 Sappho .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 
 
 Gounod. 
 
 
 A Midsummer Night's Dream 
 
 14 
 
 Mireille .... 
 
 11 
 
 The Hebrides 
 
 12 
 
 I e Medecin malgre lui . 
 
 4 
 
 Meeresstille 
 
 14 
 
 La Nonne Sanglante 
 
 1 
 
 Melusina 
 
 7 
 
 Grieg. 
 
 
 Ruy Bias 
 
 17 
 
 • I in Herbst ' . 
 
 1 
 
 Athalie .... 
 
 11 
 
 
 
 Hochzeit des Camacho . 
 
 5 
 
 Haydn. 
 InD 
 
 1 
 
 Trumpet Overture . 
 
 5 
 
 Halevy. 
 L'Eclair .... 
 
 
 Meyerbeer. 
 
 
 3 
 
 L'Etoile du Nord . 
 
 12 
 
 
 
 Dinorah .... 
 
 1 
 
 Handel. 
 
 
 L'Africaine 
 
 1 
 
 Occasional 
 
 2 
 
 Exhibition 
 
 2 
 
 Heclit. 
 
 
 Struensee 
 
 1 
 
 Die Xacht der Willis 
 
 1 
 
 Mozart. 
 
 
 Humpcrdinck. 
 
 
 Die Zauberflote 
 
 24 
 
 Hansel und Gretel . 
 
 1 
 
 Don Giovanni 
 
 14 
 
 
 
 Le Nozze di Figaro 
 
 14 
 
 Herold. 
 
 
 La Clemenza di Tito 
 
 11 
 
 Le Pre aux Clercs . 
 
 7 
 
 11 Seraglio 
 
 9 
 
 Zainpa .... 
 
 14 
 
 Idorneneo 
 
 2 
 
 Hiller. 
 
 
 Cosi fan tutte . 
 
 4 
 
 1 ►( metritis 
 
 1 
 
 La Vilanella rapita 
 
 1 
 
 Kin Trunin in der Christnacht 
 
 1 
 
 Der Schauspiel-Director . 
 
 2 
 
 Kretschmer. 
 
 
 Nicolai. 
 
 
 Die Folkunger 
 
 1 
 
 The Merry Wives of Windsor 
 
 9 
 
 Lachner, F. 
 
 
 Onslow. 
 
 
 Overture from ' Suite ' No. 4 
 
 1 
 
 Le Colporteur 
 
 1 
 
 Lachner, V. 
 Loreley .... 
 
 1 
 
 Paer. 
 Sargino .... 
 
 1 
 
 Lindpainter. 
 
 
 Pauer. 
 
 
 Joke .... 
 
 1 
 
 Festival .... 
 
 1 
 
 Macfarren. 
 
 
 Reinecke. 
 
 
 < Ihevy Chase . 
 
 1 
 
 Manfred 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 Dame Kobold . 
 
 1 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 
 
 EinAbenteuer Handel's . 
 
 3 
 
 Britannia 
 
 1 
 
 Friedensfeier . 
 
 1 
 
 Marschncr. 
 
 
 Hies, Ferdinand. 
 
 
 1 >er A'iimpyr . 
 
 3 
 
 Die Rauberbraut 
 
 1 
 
 Hans Setting . 
 
 2 
 
 Don Carlos 
 
 1 
 
 Masse. 
 
 
 Solennelle in E flat 
 
 1 
 
 La Beine Topaze . 
 
 1 
 
 Pdetz. 
 
 
 Massenet. 
 
 
 Concert Overture in A . 
 
 3 
 
 Phedre .... 
 
 1 
 
 Lustspiel . 
 
 1
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 413 
 
 Rossini. 
 
 
 Guillaume Tell 
 
 . 20 
 
 Le Siege de < lorinthe 
 
 . 18 
 
 Bemiramide 
 
 . 10 
 
 1 1 Barbiere 
 
 . 9 
 
 Otello . 
 
 . 11 
 
 1 is 1 .J.- a Ladra 
 
 . 12 
 
 1 1 Turco in 1 talia 
 
 . 1 
 
 L'ltaliana in Algeria 
 
 . 2 
 
 Tancredi . 
 
 . 1 
 
 Schneider. 
 
 On ' God Save the Queen ' . 1 
 
 Schubert. 
 
 Bosamunde . . . .7 
 
 Alfonso ed Estrella . . .5 
 Fierabras .... 1 
 
 Die Freunde von Salamanca . 1 
 
 Concert Overture in D . .1 
 
 [talian in C . . . . 4 
 In E minor .... 1 
 
 Schumann. 
 
 Hermann and Dorothea . . 2 
 
 Manfred . . . . .3 
 
 Genoveva ... .5 
 
 Brant von Messina . . .1 
 
 Spohr. 
 
 Jessonda . . . .13 
 
 Faust . . . . .5 
 
 Der Alchymist . . .1 
 
 Pietro d'Albano . . .1 
 
 Der Berggeist . . . . 1 
 
 Smetana. 
 
 Sponl'uii. 
 
 La Vcstale . . . .12 
 
 I erdinand Cortez . . .12 
 
 Olympia . . . . .13 
 
 Nurmahal . . . .2 
 
 Sullivan. 
 
 1 1 1 Memoriarn . . , . 2 
 
 Di Hallo 2 
 
 The Sapphire Necklace . . 1 
 
 Macbeth 1 
 
 Thomas, Harold. 
 As You Like It .1 
 
 Volkmann. 
 Richard III 2 
 
 Lustspiel 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 
 Tannhauser 
 
 . 10 
 
 Rienzi .... 
 
 . 4 
 
 Der Fliegende Hollander 
 
 . 
 
 Lohengrin 
 
 . 11 
 
 Die Meistersinger . 
 
 . 5 
 
 Tristan und Isolde . 
 
 . 1 
 
 Parsifal .... 
 
 . 3 
 
 Faust .... 
 
 . 1 
 
 Wallace. 
 
 Maritana 
 
 Weber. 
 
 Der Freischiitz 
 
 Oberon .... 
 
 Euryanthe 
 
 Freciosa .... 
 
 Der Beherrscher der Geister 
 
 Jubel .... 
 
 Abu Hassan . 
 
 Turandot 
 
 29 
 30 
 31 
 11 
 13 
 14 
 9 
 4 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS ORCHESTRAL WORKS. 
 
 Bach, J. S. 
 
 ' Suite ' in D . . . .4 
 
 Pastoral Symphony from 
 
 Christmas Oratorio . . 1 
 
 Toccata be 1", instr. by Esser . 1 
 
 Ba.~:ini. 
 
 Francesca da Rimini, Toeme 
 
 Symphonique . . . 1 
 
 Beethoven. 
 
 Marcia alia Turca, from ' Ruins 
 
 of Athens ' . 
 March and Chorus, ' Crown ye 
 
 the Altars,' ditto . 
 Gratulations Mennet 
 Triumphal March, from ' Tar- 
 
 peja' 
 
 Dance, March. Pastorale and 
 
 Finale from ' Trometheus ' .
 
 414 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 Adagio and Andante quasi 
 Allegretto, No. 5, from 
 ' Prometheus ' • • 1 
 
 Berlioz. 
 Ballet des Sylphes, from Faust 12 
 Hungarian March, ditto . • 5 
 Pilgrim's March, from Harold 2 
 Adagio, from Romeo and Juliet 4 
 Scherzo, Queen Mab, from ditto 4 
 Romeo alone, and Fete at 
 
 Capulet'a House . -1 
 
 Scene de Bal, from Symphonic 
 
 Fantastique . • • 1 
 
 Scene aux Champs, ditto . 1 
 
 Bizet. 
 L'Arlesienne, Suite . . 4 
 
 Roma, Suite ... .2 
 Petite Suite, Jeux d'enfants, 
 
 Op. 22 1 
 
 Boccherini. 
 Menuetto in A . . .3 
 
 Borodin. 
 In the Steppes of Central Asia 2 
 
 Brahms. 
 Variations on a Theme by 
 
 Haydn ... .3 
 
 Three Hungarian Dances . 2 
 Hungarian Dance in G minor 7 
 Tw< ' Hungarian Dances, Nos. 5 
 
 and 1 
 
 Chabrier. 
 Espana . . . . . 1 
 
 Cherubini. 
 Entr'acte and Air de Ballet, 
 from Ali Baba . . .1 
 
 Costa. 
 March of the Israelites, from 
 
 Eli 2 
 
 Delibes. 
 Suite from Sylvia, Nos. 1, 2, 3 3 
 Ditto, ditto, No. 4 . . .3 
 Ballad and Air Slave, from 
 Coppelia . . . . 3 
 
 Dvorak. 
 Rhapsodie Slave, No. 1 in D, 
 
 Op. 45. . . . . 1 
 Ditto, ditto, No. 2 inG minor, 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Rhapsodie Slave, No. 3 in A 
 
 flat, Op. 45 . . . . 2 
 Danses Slaves, Book I., Nos. 
 
 1, 3, 4 . . . . 3 
 
 Danses Slaves, Book I., No. 2 1 
 Danses Slaves, Op. 46, Nos. 
 
 5, 6 2 
 
 Danses Slaves, Op. 46, Nos. 
 
 7, 8 1 
 
 Legendes, Op. 55, Nos. 4, 8, 9 2 
 
 Legendes, Op. 55, Nos. 6, 7 . 1 
 
 Legendes, Op. 55, Nos. 1, 10 . 2 
 Legendes, Op. 55, Nos 2, 3 .3 
 Legendes, Op. 55, No. 5 . .1 
 
 Scherzo capriccioso . . 1 
 
 Suite in D, Op. 39 . 2 
 Symphonic Variations, in C, 
 
 Op. 78 1 
 
 Fuchs. 
 Serenade in C, Op. 11 .1 
 
 German, Ed. 
 Three Dances, Henry VIII. . 1 
 
 Glinka. 
 Komarinskaja . . .3 
 
 Gluck. 
 Ballet Music from ' Paride ed 
 Elena ' .... 1 
 
 Goldmark. 
 
 Scherzo in E minor . . 1 
 
 Ballet Music, Konigin von 
 
 Saba . . . . .1 
 
 Gounod. 
 Pageant March from ' La Reine 
 
 de Saba ' . . .14 
 
 Danse des Bacchantes, from 
 
 ' Philemon et Baucis ' . 12 
 
 Musette from ' Mireille ' . .5 
 Ballet Music from ' La Reine 
 
 de Saba ' . . .2 
 
 Funeral March of a Marionette 2 
 Sarabande from ' Cmq Mars ' . 2 
 Ballet Music from ' Polyeucte ' 2 
 
 Grieg. 
 The Wounded Heart . . 1 
 Friihling, Melodie in G . .2 
 Holberg Suite . . .1 
 
 Suite from ' Peer Gynt,' Op. 46 2 
 Second Suite from 'Peer Gynt ' 1 
 Suite from ' Sigurd Jorsalfar ' . 2
 
 APPENDIX TT 
 
 415 
 
 Hanilrl. 
 The Harmonious Blacksmith 
 
 instru. by Greatorex . . 5 
 Concerto Grosso in G minor . 1 
 Andante and Finale from Con- 
 certo Grosso in B minor . 3 
 
 Haydn. 
 Andante in E flat . 
 
 Henschel, G. 
 Hamlet, Suite, Op. 50 . 
 
 Hiller. 
 The Sentinel .... 
 
 Hofmann. 
 Hungarian Suite 
 New 1 [ungarian Dance in F . 
 New Hungarian Dance in C 
 
 minor ..... 
 • Im Kronungs - Saal ' from 
 
 Hungarian Suite . 
 
 Huberti. 
 Reve et Chasse 
 
 Jadassohn. 
 Menuetto and Marcia, from 
 Serenade in D 
 
 Kretsclimer. 
 Entr'acte in G from ' Die 
 
 Folkunger ' . 
 Coronation March . 
 
 LacJiner, F. 
 Scherzo Pastorale from Suite 
 
 No. 4 in B flat . 
 Minuetto and Tenia con Varia- 
 
 zioni from Suite . 
 March from Catarina Cornaro. 
 
 Laic 
 Scherzo in D minor 
 
 Leoncavallo. 
 Intermezzo from ' Pagliacci ' 
 
 Ijiszt. 
 Rhapsodie Hongroise No. 1, 
 
 in F 2 
 
 Bhapsodie Hongroise, No. 2, 
 
 in D 2 
 
 Rhapsodie Hongroise No. 3, 
 
 in D 1 
 
 Rhapsodie Hongroise, No. 4, 
 
 in D minor and G major . 3 
 
 Rhapsodie Hongroise, No. 5, 
 (Heroide Kh'giaque) . 
 
 Rhapsodie Hongroise No. 6 
 (Carnaval de Pesth) 
 
 Les Preludes . 
 
 Festklange 
 
 Tasso, Lamento e Trionfo 
 
 Orpheus .... 
 
 Mazeppa 
 
 1 Ce qu'on entend sur la Mon 
 tame ' . . . 
 
 MacCunn, Hamish. 
 
 The Ship o' the Fiend (orches- 
 tral ballad) .... 1 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 Ballet and Rustic March from 
 
 ' Colomba ' . . . .1 
 ' La Belle Dame sans Merci ' 
 
 (ballad) ... 1 
 
 Mascagni, Pietro. 
 
 Prelude and Intermezzo, Caval- 
 leria Rusticana . . .1 
 
 Massenet. 
 
 Scenes Napolitaines (suite) . 1 
 March in D, No. 1, from 
 
 ' Scenes Pittoresques ' . .1 
 Air de Ballet and Angelus from 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Fete Boheme from ditto . . 1 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 
 I March from ' Athalie ' . .14 
 Wedding March . . .6 
 Scherzo from ' Reformation 
 
 Symphony ' ... 3 
 
 Cornelius March . . .4 
 Ballet Music from ' Die Hoch- 
 
 zeit des Camacho ' . . 1 
 Music to a ' Midsummer 2s ight's 
 
 Dream ' . . . .2 
 
 Meyerbeer. 
 
 Coronation March from ' Le 
 
 Prophete ' . . . .12 
 Marche aux Flambeaux, in 
 
 Eflat 5 
 
 March from ' Vielka ' . .4 
 Schiller March . . .4 
 
 Polonaise from ' Struensee ' . 4 
 Ballet Music from ' Le Pro- 
 phete ' ....
 
 416 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 Monsigny. 
 Chaconne and Rigaudon from 
 
 • Aline ' . . . • 1 
 MoszTcowsM. 
 Two Spanish Dances, G minor 
 
 unci L) major . . .2 
 
 Cortege 1 
 
 Mozart. 
 Maurerische Trauermusik . 1 
 Rondo alia Turca (instr. by 
 
 Pascal) .... 1 
 
 Notturno Serenade for Four 
 
 Orchestras, in D . . .1 
 Chaconne and Gavotte from 
 
 ' Idomeneo ' ... 1 
 
 Eomanza in C from 'Eine 
 
 Kleine Naehtniusik ' . .1 
 March in C . • -8 
 
 Neruda, Franz. 
 Aus dem Bolimerwalde, Op. 42 1 
 
 Oakeley t Sir Herbert. 
 
 Pastorale from Suite in D .1 
 Gavotte and Musette from 
 ditto 1 
 
 Baff. 
 First Movement from Sym- 
 phony ' Im Walde ' .1 
 rie and Scherzo from 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Evening Rhapsodie . . 1 
 Fest-Marsch in C, Op. 139 . 1 
 ' The Mill ' from Quartet in 
 
 G minor ... .1 
 Barcarole and Pulcinella from 
 Italian Suite . . .1 
 
 Reinecke. 
 Entr'acte from ' Manfred ' . 3 
 From the Cradle to the Grave 1 
 
 Rheinberger. 
 "Wallenstein's Camp . . 2 
 
 Rimshy -Korsakoff ', N. 
 Conte Feerique . . .1 
 
 Rubinstein. 
 Ballet Music from ' Feramors,' 
 
 Nos. 1, 2, 3 . . . .4 
 Pallet Music from ' Feramors,' 
 
 No. 4 2 
 
 Ballet Music from ' Der 
 
 Damon ' . . . .2 
 Ballet Music from ' Nero ' . 2 
 Toreador and Andalouse from 
 
 ' Bal Costume ' . . .5 
 
 Introduction, Berger and Ber- 
 
 gere, Pelerin and Fan- 
 
 taisie . . . . .1 
 
 Feierlicher Marsch, ' Nero ' . 1 
 
 ' Bal Costume ' . . . 1 
 
 Saint- Saens. 
 Le Eouet d'Omphale . . 3 
 Danse des Pretresses, ' Samson 
 
 et Dalila ' . . . .1 
 Bacchanale, ditto . . .2 
 Danse Macabre . . .2 
 
 Phaeton 1 
 
 Suite Algerienne . -. .1 
 Ballet Music from ' Henry VIII' 1 
 Orchestral Suite in D .1 
 
 Serenade .... 1 
 
 La Jeunesse d'Hercule . . 1 
 
 Schubert. 
 March in B minor, instr. by 
 
 Liszt . . . . .3 
 March in C minor, instr. by 
 
 Liszt . . . . .3 
 Funeral March in E flat 
 
 minor, instr. by Liszt . . 1 
 Reitermarsch in C, instr. by 
 
 Liszt . .... 4 
 
 Entr'actes from ' Rosamunde ' 9 
 Andante from ' Symphonie 
 
 Tragique ' . . . .1 
 
 Schumann. 
 Bilder aus Osten, No. 4 . .1 
 
 Smetana. 
 
 Vltava 1 
 
 Vysehrad .... 1 
 
 Sodermann. 
 Swedish Peasants' Wedding 
 March 2 
 
 Spohr. 
 
 Polacca from ' Faust ' . .4 
 
 Larghetto from Third Sym- 
 phony . . . . .7 
 
 Andante from Symphony in 
 D minor . . 1 
 
 Andante from ' The Power of 
 Sound ' . . . .9
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 417 
 
 Stojowski. 
 Suite in E flat 
 
 Stanford VilUera. 
 
 Prelude to CEdipus Rex . 
 
 Hull Ivan. 
 Procession March . 
 Imperial March 
 
 Svendsen. 
 
 Rhapsodic Norvegienne, No. 1 
 
 in B 
 
 Ehapsodie Norvegienne, No 2 
 
 in A 
 Ehapsodie Norvegienne, No. 3 
 
 in C 2 
 
 Rhapsodic Norvegienne, No. 4 
 
 in D 1 
 
 Intermezzo from Symphony in 
 
 B flat 2 
 
 Taiibert. 
 Liebeslied from the Tempest . 3 
 
 Tachaikowsky. 
 Marche Slave . . . . 1 
 
 Elegia 1 
 
 Ballet Music from Voivode . 1 
 
 Volhmann 
 Serenade in F. . . -2 
 Serenade in D minor . . 2 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 March from Tannhauser . 10 
 
 Introduction to Act III. of 
 
 Lohengrin . . . .4 
 Raiser- Marsch . . ,5 
 Huldigung's Marsch . . 4 
 Walkiirenritt . ... 4 
 Siegfried's Funeral March . 3 
 Feuer-Zauber, and Wotan's 
 
 Abschied .... 4 
 Introduction to Act III. of Die 
 
 Mcistersinger . . .3 
 Siegfried Idyll . . .4 
 
 Waldweben, from ' Siegfried'. 1 
 Selection from ' Die Meister- 
 
 singer ' .... 2 
 
 Charfreitags-Zauber, ' Parsifal ' 1 
 Scene of the Rhine Daughters, 
 
 'Gotterdammerung' . . 1 
 Entrance of the Gods into 
 
 Walhalla, ' Rheingold ' . 1 
 
 Introduction to ' Tristan und 
 
 Isolde ' . . . .1 
 
 Introduction and Liebestod 
 
 ' Tristan und Isolde ' . .2 
 Traume 3 
 
 Weber. 
 
 Invitation a la Valse, instr. by 
 Berlioz .... 7 
 
 CONCERTOS, RONDOS, &c— PIANO. 
 
 Bach. 
 In C for two Pianos . . 3 
 In C minor for two Pianos . 1 
 In C for three Pianos . . 1 
 In D minor for three Pianos . 2 
 In D for Piano, Flute, and 
 
 Violin 1 
 
 Beethoven. 
 No. 1 in C . . . .4 
 No. 2 in B flat . . .3 
 No. 3 in C minor . . .11 
 No. 4 in G . . . . 15 
 No. 5 in E flat . . .18 
 Choral Fantasia . . .13 
 Triple Concerto . . .11 
 Rondo, in B Flat (Posth) . 1 
 Adagio and Rondo from Con- 
 certo No. 2 . . . .1 
 No. 6, in D . . . .1 
 
 Bennett, Stcrndalc. 
 Concerto in F minor . - 1 
 Caprice, Allegro giojoso in E . 4 
 
 Brahms. 
 No. 2, in B flat . . .1 
 
 Bronsart. 
 In F sharp minor . . .1 
 
 Brilll. 
 No. 1, in F . . . 1 
 
 No. 2 in C . . . .1 
 
 Chopin. 
 No. 1 in E minor . . .5 
 Roman/a and Rondo, from 
 
 No. 1 1 
 
 No. 2 in F minor . . .3 
 Andante Spianato and Polo- 
 naise in E flat, Op. 22 . . 4 
 
 E E
 
 418 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 DusseTi. 
 
 
 In B flat, for two Pianos . 
 
 2 
 
 Dvorak. 
 
 
 In G minor, Op. 33 
 
 3 
 
 Field. 
 
 
 No. 7 in C minor . 
 
 3 
 
 Gernsheim. 
 
 
 In C minor . 
 
 1 
 
 Goetz. 
 
 
 In B flat 
 
 1 
 
 Grieg. 
 In A minor . 
 
 3 
 
 Godard, B. 
 
 
 In A minor, Op. 31 
 
 1 
 
 Hiller. 
 
 
 In F sharp minor . 
 
 1 
 
 Hiiber. 
 
 
 In C minor 
 
 1 
 
 Hummel. 
 In A minor 
 In B minor 
 In A flat . _ . 
 Rondo brillante in A 
 Rondo brillante in B Flat 
 
 3 
 2 
 3 
 1 
 1 
 
 Litolff. 
 
 Concerto Symphonique in E 
 flat . . . .2 
 
 LiszL 
 In A . . . . .4 
 Fantaisie sur des Airs Hon- 
 
 grois 2 
 
 In E flat 2 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 In G minor . . . .15 
 In D minor . . . .8 
 Serenade and Allegro giojoso . 7 
 Rondo brillante in B minor . 10 
 Ditto, ditto in E flat . .9 
 
 Mozart. 
 
 No. 2 in A . . . .1 
 
 No. 4 in B flat . . .2 
 
 No. 5 in C . . . .1 
 
 No. 6 in E flat . . .2 
 
 No. 7 in C minor . . .1 
 
 No. 8 in D minor . . .10 
 
 No. 10 in C . 
 
 No. 11 in B flat 
 
 No. 13 in D . 
 
 No. 15 in B flat 
 
 No. 16 in C . 
 
 No. 17 in E flat, for two Pianos 
 
 No. 20 in D . 
 
 For three Pianos, in F . 
 
 PaderewsJci. 
 Fantaisie Polonaise 
 Baff. 
 In C minor .... 
 Suite in E flat 
 
 Menuet and Gavotte from 
 Suite, E flat 
 
 Rheinberger. 
 In A flat 
 
 Bies. 
 
 Larghetto and Rondo, Con- 
 certo, E flat 
 
 Bubinstein. 
 No. 3 in G major . 
 No. 4 in D minor . 
 Fantasia in C, Op. 86 
 
 Saint- Saens. 
 No. 2 in G minor . 
 No. 3 in E flat 
 No. 4 in C minor . 
 
 Schubert. 
 Fantasia in C, instr. by Liszt . 3 
 
 Schumann. 
 In A minor . . . .14 
 Concertstuck, Op. 92 . 1 
 
 Stojowshi. 
 In F sharp minor . . . 1 
 
 Tschaihoivsky. 
 
 No. 2 in G (Andante and 
 
 > Finale) . . . . 1 
 
 In B flat minor . . . 1 
 
 Volhmann. 
 Concertstuck in C, Op. 42 . 1 
 
 Weber. 
 
 In C 2 
 
 In E flat 4 
 
 Concertstuck in F minor . 16 
 
 Polacca in E, instr. by Liszt . 1
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 419 
 
 CONCERTOS, RONDOS, &c 
 
 Bach, J. S. 
 In A minor, Violin 
 
 In D minor, two Violins 
 Air in 1), Violoncello 
 l'nlude in E, Violin 
 
 Beefier, Hugo. 
 
 Tema con variazioni, Violon- 
 cello . 
 
 Beethoven. 
 
 In I), Violin . 
 Romanza in G, ditto 
 1 'it to in F, ditto 
 
 De Beriot. 
 
 Andante and Rondo Russe, 
 Violin ..... 
 
 Bargiel. 
 
 Adagio, Violoncello 
 
 Brahms. 
 
 In D, Violin, Op. 77 
 In A minor, Op. 102, Violin 
 and Cello .... 
 
 Br uch. 
 
 Concerto in G minor, Violin . 
 Scotch Fantasia in E flat, 
 
 ditto ..... 
 Romanza in A minor, Op. 42, 
 
 ditto 
 
 Concerto in D minor, ditto . 
 Adagio appassionata, Op. 57, 
 
 ditto ..... 
 Kol Nidrei, Violoncello . 
 
 David, F. 
 Rondo Capriccioso, Violin 
 
 Davidoff. 
 By the Fountain, Violoncello . 
 
 Dvorak. 
 Concerto, Aminor, Op. 53,Violin 
 
 De Swert. 
 In C minor, Violoncello . 
 
 Mckert. 
 
 Concerto Violoncello, D Minor 
 
 17 
 4 
 6 
 
 -VARIOUS INSTRUMENTS. 
 
 Ernst. 
 
 Fantaisie sur Othello, Violin . 4 
 Concerto in F sharp minor . 1 
 
 Gade. 
 
 Caprice, Violin . . . 1 
 
 Goltermann. 
 In A minor, Violoncello . . 2 
 
 ILnjdn. 
 In D, Violoncello . . .1 
 
 Joachim. 
 
 Hungarian, Violin . . .3 
 In G, ditto .... 2 
 Notturno in E, ditto . . 2 
 Variations in E minor, ditto . 1 
 
 Klengel. 
 Scherzo, Violoncello . . 1 
 
 Kreutzer. 
 In D minor, Violin . . 1 
 
 Lain. 
 Symphonie Espagnole, Violin 1 
 
 Daub. 
 Polonaise in G, Violin . . 1 
 
 Lipinski. 
 Militaire in D, Violin . . 1 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 Pibroch, Violin . . .1 
 Highland Ballad, ditto . . 1 
 
 Ma/urer. 
 
 Concerto for 4 Violins . • 1 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 In E minor, Violin . . .14 
 
 MoUgue. 
 Fnnt asia on Austrian Airs, 
 
 Violin l 
 
 Andante and Finale, Concerto 
 in D, Violoncello . . 2 
 
 Mozart. 
 In A, Violin . . . .2 
 In E flat, Violin and Viola . 2 
 
 Andante and Hondo, Concerto 
 in D, Violin . . .1 
 
 k i: 2
 
 420 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 Sarasate. 
 
 iiiiieira . 
 
 isie sur Carmen 
 
 Adagio in E major, ditto . 2 
 
 In j; flat, Bassoon . . ■ 1 
 
 Neruda, F. 
 Concertsttick ~D minor, Vio- 
 loncello . • ■_ ■ J 
 Ballade in G minor, Violin .. 1 
 
 Paganini. 
 1 . Mouyement perpetuel, 
 
 Violin 1 
 
 tcerto in D, first move- 
 ment 1 
 
 Piatti. 
 
 In B flat, Violoncello . • 1 
 
 sertino in A minor, ditto . 2 
 
 Fantasia Bomantica, ditto . 1 
 
 Bergamasca, ditto . . .2 
 
 Popper. 
 
 Mazurka in A, Violoncello . 1 
 Elfentanz, ditto . . • 1 
 
 Baff. 
 garisches, Violin . . 3 
 La Fee d'Amour . . .1 
 
 Bode. 
 In A minor, Violin . . .3 
 
 Bubinstein. 
 In A, Violoncello . . .1 
 
 Sainton. 
 Allegro de Concert, Violin . 1 
 
 Saint-Saens. 
 
 Introduction and Eondo Ca- 
 priccioso, Violin . . .3 
 
 Concerto in A minor, Op 33, 
 Violoncello .... 1 
 
 Concerto No. 3 in B minor, 
 Violin . . ' . . 1 
 
 Schumann. 
 
 Fantasia, Op. 131, Violin . 2 
 a-Melodie and Am 
 
 Bpringbrunnen, Violin . 2 
 1 rto A minor, Op 129, 
 
 Violoncello . . . . 1 
 
 Spolir. 
 
 Concerto, No. 6 in G minor, 
 
 Violin .... 4 
 Concerto, No. 7 in E minor, 
 
 ditto . . . . . 4 
 Concerto, No. 8 in A minor, 
 
 ditto 9 
 
 Concerto. No. 9 in D minor, 
 
 ditto . . . , • 
 
 Concerto, No. 12 in A, Violin . 3 
 
 Adagio from No. 9, ,, . 7 
 Allegro from Concerto in G, 
 
 Violin . . . . -1 
 
 Fantasia on Irish Airs, Violin 7 
 
 In B minor, two Violins . 3 
 
 In A ditto . . 2 
 
 Adagio from No. 11, Violin . 1 
 Becit. and Adagio from No. 0, 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Stanford, Villiers. 
 
 Suite in D., Violin, Op. 32 . 1 
 
 Vieuxtemps. 
 
 In A minor, Violin . . .1 
 
 No. 5 in A minor, ditto . . 1 
 
 No. 6 in G, ditto ... 1 
 Adagio and Eondo, Concerto 
 
 in E, ditto .... 5 
 
 Fantasia Appassionata, ditto . 3 
 
 Fantaisie caprice, ditto - . 2 
 
 Ballade and Polonaise, ditto . 3 
 
 Concerto, No. 2, in A, ditto . 1 
 
 Viotti. 
 In A minor, Violin . . 6 
 
 VoTkmann. 
 Concertsttick, A minor, Violon- 
 
 cello 
 
 ] 
 
 Weber. 
 
 Concertino, Clarinet in E flat . 1 
 
 Wieniawshi. 
 
 Fantaisie sur Faust, Violin . 1 
 
 Second Polonaise in A, ditto . 4 
 
 Legende in G minor, ditto . 2 
 
 Mazurka in G, ditto . . 2 
 
 Airs Busses, Violin . . 1 
 
 Zarzycki. 
 
 Mazurka, Op. 26 . . .1
 
 APPENDIX 1 1 
 
 421 
 
 SOLOS.— PIANO. 
 
 Bach. 
 
 Fantasia Chromatica and 
 Fugue in I > minor . . 2 
 
 Prelude and Fugue alia Taran- 
 tella in A minor . . .1 
 
 Partita in G . . . .1 
 
 • Suite Francaise ' in B . . 1 
 
 Prelude and Fugue in C sharp 
 major . . . . .2 
 
 Gavotte I. and II. in B minor 
 and D major . . .5 
 
 Gavotte and Musette in D 
 minor and major. . . 6 
 
 Ditto ditto in G minor and 
 major . . . . .6 
 
 Passepied in B minor and 
 major . . . . .1 
 
 Preambulum, Air, Passepied, 
 and < rigue in G . . .4 
 
 Partita in B flat . . .1 
 
 Prelude in A minor . . 1 
 
 Beethoven. 
 
 Sonata in A, Op. 2, No. 2 . 1 
 Ditto in E flat, Op. 7 . 1 
 
 Ditto in D, Op. 10, No. 3 . 1 
 Ditto, Pathetique in C minor . 1 
 Ditto in A flat, Op. 26 . .3 
 Ditto in C sharp minor, Op. 27, 
 
 No. 2 4 
 
 Ditto in D, Op. 28 . . .2 
 Ditto in G, Op. 29, No. 1 . 1 
 Ditto in D minor, Op. 29, 
 
 No. 2 2 
 
 Ditto in E flat, Op. 29, No. 3 - 6 
 Ditto in C, Op. 53 - . .7 
 Ditto in F minor, Op. 57 . 1 
 
 Ditto in F sharp. Op. 78 . 1 
 
 Ditto in E flat, Op. 81 . .1 
 Ditto in A flat, Op. 110 . .2 
 Fantasia, Op. 77 . .1 
 
 six Variations in F . .1 
 Thirty-three Variations in 
 
 C minor ... .1 
 Selections from Bagatelles . 2 
 
 Brahms. 
 
 Variations on a theme 
 
 Haydn for two Pianos 
 Scherzo, Op. 4 
 
 by 
 
 Hungarian Dances, Nos. 4, 6, 7 1 
 Hungarian Dances, No. 8 . 1 
 Ballade, in G minor . . 1 
 
 BriiU. 
 Mazurka, from Op. 35 . .1 
 
 Chopin. 
 
 M a/.urka, in B flat, Op. 7, No. 1 4 
 Ditto in C sharp minor, Op. 30, 
 
 No. 4 
 
 Ditto, in A flat 
 Ditto, in C, Op. 5G, No. 2 
 Grande Valse, in E flat, Op. 17 
 Ditto, in A flat, Op. 34, No. 1 
 Ditto, in F, Op. 34, No. 3 
 Ditto, in A flat, Op. 42 . 
 Ditto, in D flat, Op. 64 . 
 Ditto, in C sharp minor, Op. 64 
 Ditto, in E minor (Posth) 
 Polonaise, in A, Op. 40, No. 1 
 Ditto, in A flat, Op. 53 . 
 Ditto, in F sharp minor, Op. 44 
 Nocturne, in B flat minor, Op. 
 
 9, No. 1 
 Ditto, in E flat, Op. 9, No. 2 . 
 Ditto, in B, Op. 9, No. 3 
 Ditto, in F sharp, Op. 15, No. 2 
 Ditto, in D flat, Op. 27, No. 2 
 Ditto, in G minor, Op. 37, No. 1 
 Ditto, in G major, Op. 37, No. 2 
 Ditto, in F sharp minor, Op. 
 
 48, No. 2 . 
 Ditto, in F minor, Op. 55, No. 1 
 Ditto, in E, Op. 62, No. 2 
 Ditto, in F, Op. 15, No. 1 
 Study, in E, Op. 10, No. 3 
 Ditto, in G flat, Op. 10, No. 5 
 Ditto, in A flat, Op. 25, No. 1 
 Ditto, in F minor, Op. 25, No. 2 
 Ditto, in C sharp minor, Op. 
 
 •2.'., No. 7 . . . . 
 Ballade, in G minor, Op. 23 . 
 Ditto, in A flat, Op. 47 . 
 Second ' Ballade, Op. 38 
 Impromptu in A flat, Op. 29 . 
 Ditto in F sharp, Op. 3G 
 Ditto in G flat, Op. 51 . 
 Fantasie Impromptu in C 
 
 sharp minor, Op. G(j .
 
 -i-2-2 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 LdeinDflat,Op.28,No.l5 2 
 i in A flat, No. 17 . .2 
 Funeral March from Sonata, 
 Op. 85 . . . . 1 
 in B flat minor, 
 
 Op. 81 3 
 
 Tliir - i in C sharp 
 
 minor. Op. ;> >'-' • • • 2 
 Tarentelle in A flat, Op. 43 . 1 
 Allegro de Concert in A, 
 
 Op. 46 1 
 
 Berceuse in D flat, Op. 57 . 8 
 Barcarolle in P sharp, Op. 60 3 
 Rondo for two pianos . .1 
 
 Doehler. 
 Study in B, Op. 30. . . 2 
 
 Dupont. 
 Staccato perpetuel, Etude . 1 
 
 Field, J. 
 Nocturne in E flat . . .2 
 Ghicl: 
 • t e in A, transcribed by 
 Brahms .... 4 
 Menuetto Gracioso and Tam- 
 
 bourin, ditto by Halle . 3 
 
 Ballo and Bourree, ditto ditto 3 
 
 Ghrieg. 
 
 Aua dem Volksleben, Op. 19 
 (Nos. 1 and 2) . . .1 
 
 Halle. 
 Impromptus in B minor and 
 F major . . . . 1 
 
 Handel. 
 The Harmonious Blacksmith 4 
 
 Suite in 1) minor . . . 1 
 ie in <i minor . . .2 
 
 Haydn. 
 
 Fantasia in G . . .1 
 
 Heller, St. 
 
 ' La Chasse,' Study in E flat . 2 
 
 Caprice but ' La Truite,' Op. 33 5 
 B flat and in J!, 
 
 16 1 
 
 ' Promenades d'un Solitaire,' 
 
 Op. 78, No. 1 ... 5 
 
 Ditto ditto, Op. 78, No. 4 . 3 
 ' Wanderstunden,' Op. 80, 
 
 No. 2 6 
 
 Prelude in D flat, Op. 81 . 3 
 
 < Nuits Blanches ' in E, Op. 82 4 
 Ditto in G flat, Op. 82 , .1 
 Tarentelle in A flat, Op. 6G, 
 
 No. 1 4 
 
 Ditto in E minor for 2 pianos 1 
 ' Dans les Bois,' in E, Op. 86, 
 
 No. 3 4 
 
 ' Lieder olme Worte,' Op. 120, 
 
 Nos. 2, 4, 7 . . . .1 
 Impromptu in C sharp minor, 
 
 Op. 129, No. 2 . . .1 
 Transcription of ' The Hurdy 
 Gurdy Player,' ' The Butter- 
 fly,' and ' Wandering ' . 2 
 
 Hensclt. 
 
 Study in F sharp, Op. 2, No. 6 5 
 
 ' Berceuse ' in G flat . . 2 
 
 Toccata in C minor . . 1 
 
 Nocturne, La Gondole . . 1 
 
 Hofmann, J. 
 Bomanza and Valse . . 1 
 
 Liszt. 
 Bhapsodie Hongroise in F 
 
 sharp, No. 8. . . .6 
 Ditto ditto in D flat, No. 12 . 4 
 Ditto ditto in E, No. 1 . .1 
 Ditto ditto, No. 2 . . .1 
 Grand Hungarian March in 
 
 A minor . . . .2 
 Marches Hongroises, D flat, 
 
 C sharp .... 1 
 Ditto ditto, B flat . . .1 
 ' Dans les Bois,' study . . 1 
 ' Bonde des Lutins,' study . 1 
 ' Legende de St. Francois 
 
 d'Assises ' . . . .1 
 Tarentelle by Bossini, tran- 
 scription . . . .1 
 Finale from ' Lucia ' in D flat. 1 
 Fantasia on ' Rigoletto ' . .1 
 Spinnerlied from ' Flying 
 
 Dutchman ' . . . .4 
 Chant Polonais . . .1 
 Study in E flat . . .1 
 Ditto in G sharp major (Cam- 
 panula) .... 1 
 Ditto in D flat . . .1 
 
 Isolden's Liebestod . . 1 
 
 Tarentella de Bravura . . 1 
 Waldesrauschen, Study in D flat 1 
 Polonaise in E . . .1
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 423 
 
 Liszt and Chopin. 
 Chant Polonais in G flat . 1 
 
 Liszt and Schubert. 
 ' Soirees deVienne ' in A minor 1 1 
 Ditto ditto in D . . .1 
 Ditto ditto in E . .2 
 
 Ditto ditto in A flat . .1 
 
 renade ' in D minor . . 2 
 ' Das Lob der Thranen ' in D. 3 
 Barcarolle in A flat minor . 2 
 'Dn bist die Ruh ' . . .1 
 1 Erlkonig ' . . -3 
 
 Liszt and David. 
 ' Ungarisches ' in A . .1 
 
 Liszt anil Vmjanini 
 Caprice in E . . . .2 
 ' La Campanella ' . . .1 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 Andante and Rondo Capric- 
 
 cioso 4 
 
 Caprice in F sharp minor, Op. 5 1 
 Ditto in A minor, Op. 33, Xo. 1 1 
 Ditto in E, Op. 33, No. 3 . 3 
 Prelude and Fugue in E minor, 
 
 Op. 35, Xo. 1 .4 
 
 Characteristic piece in E, 
 
 Op. 7, Xo. 7 . . .1 
 
 Ditto ditto in A, Op. 7, Xo. 4 . 1 
 Ditto ditto in D, Op. 7, Xo. 3 . 1 
 Variations Serieuses in D 
 
 minor . . . . -1 
 Selections from ' Lieder ohne 
 
 Worte' . • • -11 
 1 Lieder ohne Worte,' Book 
 
 VIII 3 
 
 Scherzo in B minor, Op. 16 . 1 
 
 MoszJcowshi 
 
 Tarentelle in G flat, Op. 27 . 2 
 
 Mozart. 
 Gigue in G . • .1 
 Rondo alia Turca from Sonata 
 in A 2 
 
 Fantasia in (' minor . . 1 
 Sonata in D, for two Pianos . 1 
 
 NicodS. 
 Tarentelle .... 1 
 
 Paderewsli. 
 Minuet 1 
 
 Rameau. 
 Musette and Tambourin in E 1 
 Variations in A minor . . 1 
 
 Raff. 
 
 Menuet and Tambourin from 
 
 Op. 204 .... 
 
 Prelude and Fugue in E minor 1 
 
 La Fileuse .... 1 
 
 Rheinberger. 
 Wanderlied in E . . .1 
 
 Jagdstuck in E flat . .1 
 
 Rubinstein. 
 Valse in A flat, from ' Le Bal ' 1 
 Valse Allemande . . .1 
 
 Scarlatti. 
 Harpsichord Lessons in G, D, 
 and G 8 
 
 Schubert. 
 
 Moment musical in F minor, 
 
 Op. 94, Xo. 3 • -3 
 
 Impromptu in A flat, Op. 142, 
 
 Xo. 2 2 
 
 Ditto in B flat, Op. 142, Xo. 3 5 
 Ditto in F minor, Op. 142, 
 
 Xo. 4 2 
 
 Andante in E, from Op. 164 . 1 
 Clavierstiick in E flat minor 2 
 Fantasia in C, Op. 15 .1 
 
 Impromptu in G, Op. 90, Xo. 3 1 
 
 Valse 
 
 Sapellnilioff. 
 
 Schuma/nn. 
 
 ' Carneval,' Op. 9 . 
 
 Arabesque ' in C . 
 
 Novelette, Op. 21, Xo. 1, in F 
 
 Ditto in D 
 
 Ditto in E 
 
 Ditto in B minor . 
 
 First movement from 'Hu- 
 
 moreske ' 
 Ronianza in F sharp 
 ' Vogel als Prophet ' 
 ' Jagdlied ' . . . . 
 ' Des Abends ' Phantasiestiick 
 • Grillen, 1 ditto 
 ' Warum ' '? . 
 ' Traumcswirren ' 
 ' Papillons,' Op. 2 
 Xachtstiick in F
 
 424 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 Silas. 
 
 Gavotte . 
 
 Stojowshi. 
 
 Prelude, Valse, and Cosaque 
 Fantastique . • -1 
 
 Thalberg. 
 
 Andante in D flat, Op. 32 . 2 
 Study in A minor, Op. 30 . 6 
 Fantasia on • Mose in Egitto,' 
 
 Op. 33 .... 2 
 
 Finale di Lucia, Op. 43 . .1 
 ' Home, sweet Home ' . .7 
 Funeral March in B flat minor 1 
 
 Momento Capriccioso . . 1 
 Adagio and Eondo from 
 
 Sonata, Op. 24 . . .1 
 Rondo from Op. 24 
 Menuetto from Sonata, Op. 24 
 Scherzo and Eondo from 
 
 Op. 39 . . . .3 
 
 Sonata in D minor, Op. 42 . b 
 Eondo brillante in E flat, 
 
 Op. 62 . . . .1 
 
 Invitation a la Valse, Op. 65 . 5 
 Polacca in E, Op. 72 .3 
 
 Zimmermann. 
 Gavotte in E minor . . 1 
 
 SOLOS, VARIOUS INSTRUMENTS. 
 
 Ariosti, Attilio. 
 
 Largo and Allemande, Violon- 
 cello 1 
 
 Bach. 
 
 Chaconne, Violin . . .7 
 Prelude and Fugue in G minor, 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Adagio and Allegro in C ditto . 3 
 1'relude in E, ditto ... 2 
 Menuet and Gavotte in E, 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Bourrue and Double in B 
 
 minor, ditto . . .1 
 
 Prelude and Bourree in C, 
 
 Violoncello .... 1 
 lande and Gavotte in D, 
 
 ditto 1 
 
 Ditto, Violoncello . . .1 
 
 Bargiel. 
 
 Adagio, Violoncello, Op. 38 . 1 
 
 Belloli. 
 
 Quartet, four Horns . . 1 
 
 Boccherini. 
 
 Sonata in A, Violoncello . 2 
 Largo in C, ditto . . .1 
 
 Brahms. 
 
 Eungarian Dances, Violin 
 (Joachim) . 1 
 
 Hungarian Dances, Violin 
 (Joachim) Nos. 17, 18, 20, 15 2 
 
 Fitzenhagen. 
 Perpetuum Mobile, Violon- 
 cello . . . . .1 
 
 Joachim. 
 
 Romanza in B flat, Violin . 3 
 Ditto from Hungarian Con- 
 certo, ditto .... 1 
 
 Handel. 
 
 Sonata in A, Violin . . 2 
 
 Ditto in D, ditto . . .4 
 
 Leclair. 
 
 Sarabande and Tambourin, 
 Violin 3 
 
 Locatelli. 
 Sonata in D, Violoncello . 2 
 
 Marcello. 
 Sonata in F, Violoncello . 2 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 Sonata in F minor, Organ . 1 
 
 Nardini. 
 Andante, Violoncello . . 1
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 42-3 
 
 Nessera, Josef. 
 Ekloge in G, Violin . . 1 
 
 Paganini. 
 Caprice in A minor, Violin . 1 
 Le Mouvement Perpetuel, 
 
 ditto 2 
 
 Le Streghe, ditto . . .1 
 
 Piatti. 
 Siciliana in A minor, Violon- 
 cello . . . . .1 
 Ossian's Song, ditto . . 1 
 
 Popper. 
 Feuillet d Album in B flat, Cello 1 
 Ma/.urka in D, ditto . . 1 
 Nocturne, ditto . . . 1 
 Minuet and Spinnlied, ditto . 1 
 Tarentelle, ditto . . .1 
 
 Raff. 
 Cavatina, violin . . .1 
 
 Pies, Franz. 
 Mouvement Perpetuel in G, 
 from 1st Suite, Violin. . 1 
 
 Sarasate. 
 Spanish Dances, Violin . . 1 
 Malaguena and Habanera, ditto 1 
 
 Schumann. 
 
 Abendlied, Violin . . .4 
 Ditto, Violoncello . . .1 
 
 Spoh r. 
 Barcarole in G, Violin . . '■> 
 Scherzo in D, ditto . . 2 
 
 Adagio and Finale, from Duet 
 
 in D, two Violins . . 1 
 Duet in G minor, Op. 07, 
 
 No. 3, ditto. . 1 
 
 Duet in D for two Violins . 2 
 
 Stanford, VilUers. 
 Three Irish Fantasias, La- 
 ment, Hush Song, and Reel, 
 Violin 1 
 
 Tartini. 
 Le Trille du Diable, Violin . 5 
 
 Veracini. 
 
 Largo and Gigue, Violoncello . 2 
 
 Vieuxtemps. 
 
 Reverie in E flat, Violin . 3 
 
 Tarentelle in A minor, ditto . 2 
 
 Air Bohemien, ditto . . 1 
 
 Air Varie in D, ditto . . 2 
 
 ' Voix du Cceur,' ditto . . 1 
 
 CONCERTED INSTRUMENTAL WORKS. 
 
 Bach. 
 Sonata in A, Piano and Violin 2 
 
 Beethoven. 
 
 Quintet in E flat, Op. 16 . 1 
 Septet, Op. 20 . . .2 
 Sonata in G, Op. 30 . . 2 
 Kreutzer Sonata, Op. 47 . 2 
 
 Andante con Variazioni, from 
 
 Op. 47 .... 11 
 
 Ottetto in E flat, Op. 103, wind 
 
 instnunents . . . 1 
 
 Cliop>in. 
 
 Grande Polonaise, Piano and 
 Violoncello, in C, Op. 3 . 1 
 
 Chopin and Franclunnmc. 
 
 Duo sur Robert le Diable, 
 Piano and Cello . . .1 
 
 Dussek. 
 
 Andante and Rondo, from 
 Sonata B flat, Piano and 
 Violin ..... 
 
 Dvorak. 
 
 Four Romantic Pieces, Piano 
 and Violin .... 
 
 G rieg 
 Sonata, Piano and Violin 
 
 Heller and Enist. 
 
 ' Pensees fugitives,' Piano and 
 Violin ..... 
 
 Humnn I. 
 
 Andante and Scherzo, from 
 Septet, Op. 74
 
 426 
 
 APPENDIX II 
 
 
 Mendelssohn. 
 Tenia con Yariazioni in D, 
 Piano and Violoncello 
 
 Mozart. 
 
 Serenade in E flat, wind in- 
 struments .... 
 Ditto in B flat, ditto 
 Ottetto in C minor, ditto 
 Sonata in D, Op. 10, Piano 
 and Violin .... 
 Andante with Variations, from 
 
 Sonata in F, ditto 
 Duet in G, Violin and Viola . 
 
 Beicha. 
 
 Quintet, E flat, wind instru- 
 ments 
 
 Schubert. 
 
 Andante and Scherzo from 
 Ottetto . 
 
 Rondo brillante in B minor, 
 Piano and Violin . . 5 
 
 Grand Fantasia, Piano and 
 Violin, in C, Op. 159 . .1 
 
 Schumann. 
 
 Stiicke im Volkston in A 
 minor and F, Piano and 
 Violoncello .... 1 
 
 Mahrchenbilder, Nos. 2, 3, 4, 
 ditto 1 
 
 Three Fantasiestticke, Op. 73, 
 Piano and Violin . . 1 
 
 Spohr. 
 
 Notturno fur Janitscharen 
 Musik, Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4 . . 1 
 
 Weber. 
 
 Duet in E flat, Op. 48, Piano 
 and Clarionet . . .1 

 
 INDEX 
 
 A ham. 217 
 
 Adelaide, 389 
 
 Aide, Hamilton, 346 
 
 Africa, South. 178 
 
 Alard, 70, 91, 92, 361 
 
 Alice, U.K. II, Princess, 277, 279 
 
 Altena, 19, 291 
 
 Altgelt, Fran, 191, 254 
 
 Altgelt, Minna, 254 
 
 Anderson, .Mr.. 2.X) 
 
 Armingand, 92 
 
 Arolsen, 10 
 
 Artot, r><; 
 
 Ashdown, Edwin, 334 
 
 Athole, 1 luchess of, 295 
 
 Att.au, 200, 203 
 
 Anber, 90 
 
 Australia, 17S 
 
 Bach, J. Seb.. 41, 72, 123, 304, 367 
 
 Earten Baden, 257 
 
 Baden-Powell, Captain, 385 
 
 Baetens, Charles. 145 
 
 Balfe, 79 
 
 Ballarat, 372 
 
 lSalzac, 154 
 
 Barrington, Lady Caroline, 295 
 
 Batta, 56 
 
 Bayreuth, 62, 310 
 
 Beatrice, H.R.H. Princess, 294 
 
 Becker, Dr. Ernst, 62, 277 
 
 Becker, -Miss Lydia, 386 
 
 ven, :», 'id, 2!», 35, 38, 40, 41, 
 4 1. 5:;, 76, 84, 85, 103, 123, 128, 
 131, 166, 191, 194, 197, 256, 261, 
 263, 300, 303, 306, 326, 329, 354, 
 356, 358, 360, 388 
 
 BelgiojOSO, Princess, 90 
 
 Belletii, 13.6, 284 
 
 Bellini, 122 
 
 Benedict, Sir Julius, 109, 231. 217, 
 308 
 
 Bennett, Mr., 296 
 
 Bennett, Stemdale, 109, 266 
 
 Benzon, Mrs., 165 
 
 Berlioz, 38, 44, 56, 64, 73, 86, 102, 
 
 138, 154, 167, 168, 242, 247, 250, 
 
 257, 259, 292, 353 
 Berlioz, Madame, 65 
 Bertin, Armand, 69, 77, 105 
 Bertin, Mile. Louise, 98 
 Bert on. 42 
 
 Best, Mr., S54, 377, 385 
 Biddulph, Sir Thomas, 295 
 Blagrove, 365 
 Blanc, Louis, 77 
 Blessington, Lady, 83 
 ' Blind Tom,' 298 
 P.liss, Mr., 314 
 Bodda, Frank, 365 
 Boehm, Sir Edgar, 347 
 Bohn, 248 
 Bonheur, Rosa, 362 
 Bonn Festival, 86 
 Boult, Mr. A., 392 
 Brahms, 167, 303, 326, 369 
 Brendschedt, Christina, 49, 215 
 Brisbane, 382 
 Briscoe, Captain, 372 
 Broadwood, 109, 267, 292, 388 
 Brougham, Lord, 104 
 Browning, Robert, 105, 126, 162, 
 
 265, 300, 314 
 Bruce, Lady Augusta, 276 
 Briill, Iffnaz, 304 
 Biilow, Hans von, 303, 304 
 Bunsen, Chevalier de, 104 
 Bnrdekin, Mr., 377 
 Burdekin, Mrs., 377, 379 
 Burne-Jones, Sir Edward, 162 
 Bury, Mile. Agnes, 120 
 
 •Cadenzas,* 263 
 
 Cambridge, H.K.II, Duke of, 103
 
 428 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Cameron, Mr., 304 
 Capetown, 396 
 
 I 'aradori. Madame, 120 
 
 ( 'arata, 76 
 
 Carrington, Lord. 376,378 
 
 Carrington, Lady, 376, 378, 385 
 
 Carrodus, 354 
 
 v. Judge, 373 
 
 • :. it. 15 
 Cavendish, Miss. 295 
 ChappeU, Messrs, 136,260,269,271, 
 
 Chateau d'Eu. 90 
 
 Cherubini, 12,72, 149, 190,196 
 
 i,,. 31, 33, 70, 77,92, 111, 123, 
 198, 202, 207, 209, 223, 229, 248, 
 261, 300, 304, 306, 32(5, 362 
 Chorley, H. F., 37, 106, 127, 136, 
 137,233,242,246, 249, 266, 269, 
 273, 359 
 ( larke, Sir William, 369 
 Clarke, Lady, 371 
 Clausen, Mile., 250 
 Clementi. 41 
 Cobden, Richard, 104 
 Cockburn, Sir Alexander, 106, 165, 
 176 
 ridge, Lord, 106, 176 
 ( •, illege i if M osic, Royal, Manchester, 
 
 149, 158,353, 363, 403 
 Collins, Wilkie, 105 
 I olombo, 394 
 Conradi, 14 
 'Conservatoire' Concerts, 53, 84. 
 
 Ill, 334 
 Consort, H.R.H. Prince, 86, 90, 177 
 
 ostable, Sir Clifford, 160 
 Copenhagen, 302 
 Cossmann, 257 
 
 sta, Sir Michael, 102, 127, 266, 
 308 
 Conppey, L., 336 
 Cowell, Sir John, 293 
 Cowes, 161,274, 293 
 ( irawshay, Mr.. 346 
 Cruvelli, Mile., 248 
 < uzner, 358 
 
 toriska, Princess, 89 
 
 Damcki':, Madame, 154 
 
 l lantern, 257 
 
 Darmetadt, 17, 28,71, 74, 181, 204, 
 
 David, 255 
 
 Davies, Miss Mary, 167, 30fi 
 Davison, Henry, 109, 242, 249 
 De Beriot, 361, 363 
 
 De Jong, 145 
 
 Delacroix, 77 
 
 Delsarte, 56, 76 
 
 Denmark, H.M. the King of, 302 
 
 Denmark, H.M. the Queen of, 303 
 
 Devonshire, Duke of, 252 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 105, 126 
 
 Dickens, William, 147 
 
 Dolby, Miss, 358 
 
 Donizetti, 99, 122 
 
 D'Orsay, Count, 83 
 
 Doyle, Richard, 129, 161, 162, 175, 
 
 251 
 Dreyschock, Alexander, 82 
 Dudley, Lord, 136 
 Dufferin, Marquess of, 344, 347 
 Dulcken, Madame, 234 
 Duller, Ed., 202 
 Dumas, Alexandre, 77, 91, 154 
 Dussek, 41, 123, 300 
 Diisseldorf. 153, 289 
 Dvorak, 167 
 Dyer, Mr., 400 
 
 Ef'KERT, 239, 248 
 Edinburgh, 123, 177, 348 
 Eichthal, Baron, 219, 223 
 Elberfeld, 16 
 
 Elbers, Edward, 9, 41, 184, 193,203, 
 222 
 
 ' Elijah,' 365 
 
 Ella, John, 103, 112, 247, 249, 359 
 
 Emin Pasha, 371, 382 
 
 England, first visit to, 79 
 
 Erard, 91, 362, 405 
 
 Ernst, 56, 77, 80, 84, 112, 115, 124, 
 147, 236, 239, 244, 248, 250, 269 
 
 Ewart, H., 394 
 
 Ewart, Mrs. H., 380 
 
 Fairbairn, Sir Thomas, 128, 251 
 
 Fairbairn, Sir William, 281 
 
 ' Faust,' 306, 349 
 
 Fetis, Professor, 197 
 
 Field, John, 17 
 
 Fischer, Mile., 243 
 
 Fitzherbert, Mr., 79 
 
 Flashoff, Louis, 182, 185, 193, 215 
 
 Flower, Mrs. Cyril, 346 
 
 Fliiss, Cornelius, 18, 47, 202, 253, 
 
 280, 300 
 Formes, Carl, 120, 122, 259 
 Forsyth, 132, 148, 321, 333 
 Foss, Herr von, 371 
 Franchomme, 36, 70, 91 
 Frankfort, 71, 96
 
 INDEX 
 
 42!) 
 
 Gabriel, Miss Virginia, 247 
 Gade, 302, 353, 356 o<? 
 
 Garcia, Mannel, 155, 176, 1-7-*-. 366 
 Gathy, Auguste, 361 
 Geelong, •>~i- 
 
 ■ l';n r, 386 
 k, Abb6, 7 
 ' Genl Lemen's < loncerts,' .'17, 111,115 
 Germany, B.I.M. Emperor of, 296, 
 
 345 
 Glover, Mr., 236 
 Gluck, 41, 72, '.H. 136,137, 140, 168, 
 
 258 
 Goddard, Miss Arabella, 250 
 Goldschmidt, E., 398 
 Gounod, I'll', 308, 327 
 Gouvy, 248 
 Grabamstown, :!'.''■» 
 Griffin, 7 1 .' 
 
 Grimshawe, Mrs., :'■ 1 1 
 Grisi, Madame, 1 1 1 
 Grosse, 354 
 
 Grosvenor Gallery, 165, 302 
 Grove, Sir George, 308 
 nuibert, M., 41, 93, 123 
 Guizot, 77, 91, 1" i 
 Gunton, Mr., 358 
 
 Habenbck, 66, 84 
 
 Hagen, 4, 6, 13, 48, 153, 255,280, 
 
 290, 302,305, 307, 310 
 Hal-'vv, 10, 43, 77 
 Hall6, Anna, 185, 210. 397 
 Halle, Bernhard, 185. 201, 210, 237, 
 
 244 
 Halle, Caroline, nee Brendschedt, 2, 
 
 48, 236, 251, 255, 285, 290, 305 
 Halle, Desiree, nie Smith de Rilieu, 
 
 70, 173, 176, 231, 256, 264, 276 
 Halle, Frederick, 2. 45, 106, 180, 185, 
 
 192, 196, 201. 206 
 Hall.', Lady, 167, 171, L78, 350, 369, 
 
 377, 388, 398 
 Handel, 5, 168 
 Hanslick, 304 
 
 Harkort, Gustav, 50, 219, 225 
 Hastings, Lady, 127 
 Havelock, General, 251 
 Havelock, sir Henry, 394 
 Haydn. 9, 17. II. 123, 253, 304,353 
 Hayes, Catherine. 136 
 Hecht. Edward, 116, 333, 367 
 Heine, Heinrich, 7>7, 77, 155, ">'">) 
 Heinefetter, Mile.. 12, 46 
 Helena, 1I.K.H. Princess, 293 
 Heller, Stephen, 17, 62, 77, 92, 94, 
 
 123, 154, 150, 161, 170. L75, 240, 
 
 245, 217, 248, 250, 259, 263, 265, 
 292, 297, 300, 31 1, 343, 358, 364 
 
 Helmesberger, 304 
 
 Kely-Hutchinson, Sir Walter, 101 
 
 I r. aschel, Georg, 167 
 
 Herlicrt of Lea, Lady. :;i 1 
 
 Hermann, Zeugher, 1 1 1 
 
 Herz, Henri, 12. 219 
 
 Hesse-Darmstadt,Grand Duke of, 71 
 
 Hesse- Darmstadt, Prince Alexander, 
 71 
 
 Hesse-Darmstadt, Prince Louis, 277. 
 
 279 
 
 I li •_". ins, Henry, :!•"•">, 360 
 
 Hiller, Ferd., 71, 190, 198, 238, 246, 
 
 323 
 Hilton, Mr., 167 
 I [ohen-Limburg, Prince of, 21 
 Hopetoun, Lord, 368, 370 
 Hopetoun, I ady, 368,370 
 Huddersfield Festival, 306 
 Hugo, Victor, 154 
 Humboldt, Alex, von, 100 
 Hummel, 10, 12. 17. 41, 123, 300 
 
 [NGBES, 77, 78, 153 
 
 Jacoby. S., 14") 
 Janin, Jules, 77 
 
 Joachim, 8, 1G2, 174, 256, 201,271, 
 
 284, 350 
 Johannesburg, 178, 401 
 Jullien, 102, 250, 354 
 
 KALKBBENNEB, 17. 30, 40, 108, 192, 
 194, 198, 202. 207, 211, 224, 229, 
 300 
 
 Kaufmann, Mr., 239, 245 
 
 Kemble, Mrs. Fanny, 174 
 
 Kennion, Mrs , 392 
 
 Kingwilliamstown, 399 
 
 Kintore, Lord, 390 
 
 Kintore, Lady, 390 
 
 Knowles, John, 121, 353 
 
 Koch, Herr, 190, L93, 206, 211. 254 
 
 Kossuth, 123 
 
 Krinpel, Dr.. 202 
 
 Kriiger, President, 102 
 
 Kullak, 367 
 
 Labla.iik. 1 11 
 Lacombe, Louis, It! 
 Lake, Mr., 295 
 Lamartine, 77, 91, 96
 
 430 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Luudowne, Marquis of, 251 
 
 Lazarus. 137 
 
 Ledrn-Rollin, 77. 01 
 
 Lehmann, F., 272 
 
 Lehmann, Mrs. F.. 165 
 
 Lehmann, Henri, 307 
 
 Leighton, Lord, L06, 162, 165, 314 
 
 g, 304 
 Leo XIII., Pope, 347 
 \ iguste, 32, 10i) 
 Leo, Hermann, 107. 230, 231 
 Leopold, H.R.H. Prince, 294 
 Lichtenstein, Georg, 123, 313, 318, 
 
 343 
 land, Jenny, 113, HO, 28-1, 359, 
 
 360 
 
 37, 70, 77, 85, 86. 198, 207, 
 
 226, 311,331,332,364,358,406 
 Liverpool, 111, 115 
 Lloyd, Edward, 167, 306 
 
 v. Mr.. 358 
 London, 79, 81, 102, 112, 123, 133, 
 
 247, 308 
 Louis Philippe, King, 90, 95 
 Lonviers, 303 
 Lumley, 246 
 
 MAOFABBBB, George, 82, 133 
 Mainzer, Abbe, 199, 209 
 Mallet, 32, 99 
 
 Manchester, 37, 107, 109, 112, 116, 
 L20, 124, 128, 130, 144, 148, 229 
 Ld, 191, L92, 194,204, 221 
 Manning, Bliss, 365 
 Marcel 1 ., 72 
 Marie, 'Maitre,' 77, 91 
 Mario, 111 
 Marschner, 356 
 irt, 88, 250 
 --'•, Victor, 133, 337 
 ij, Guy de, 332 
 Mayence, 71 
 Mayseder, 39 
 MehoJ, 357, 359, 361 
 
 en, Duke of, 303 
 Melbourne, 367 
 Melville, Lady Susan, 295 
 Mendeksohn, 35, 71, 92, 123, 1G8, 
 261, 263, 354, 358, 364 
 MifeS, 358 
 Meyer, Adolf, 149 
 
 rbeer, 40, 70, 77, 127, 190,218, 
 223, 247, 266, 356 
 Millais, Bir John, L62, 265 
 Miolan-Carvalbo, Madame, 258 
 
 ie, 124,249,272,354,357,358, 
 
 Moscheles, 108 
 Moscheles, Madame, 108 
 Mottez, Victor, 49, 153, 155 
 Mozart, 9, 17, 35, 41, 123, 127, 203. 
 
 266, 304, 354, 367 
 Midler, Baron von, 373 
 Munich, 310 
 Musset, Alfred de, 154 
 
 Naples, 344 
 Napoleon, Prince, 82 
 Nery, Casiruir, 92 
 Newton, Sir Charles, 346 
 Noer, Count de, 382 
 Norman, Sir Henry, 383, 385 
 Nottebohm, 304, 339 
 Novello, Clara. 79 
 
 Odillon-Barrot, 77 
 Onslow, 194 
 
 Osborne, 212, 227, 229, 361 
 Otter, 367 
 
 Paderewski, 350 
 
 Paganini. 62, 66 
 
 PalestriDa, 72 
 
 Pare pa. Madame, 133, 134 
 
 Paris, 29, 30, 70, 91, 93, 153, 207, 
 
 215, 216, 227 
 ' Parsifal,' 310 
 Paul, Jean, 366 
 Peacock, Mr , 364 
 Perthuis, Comte de, 32 
 4 Pianoforte School, Practical,' 149, 
 
 369 
 Piatti, 112, 115, 124, 126, 136. 165, 
 
 174, 257, 271, 350, 356, 358, 362 
 Pietermaritzburg, 401 
 Pillet 229 
 
 Pinschoff, Carl, 369, 389, 392 
 Pixis, 229 
 
 Ploennies, Herr von, 202 
 Ploennies, Frau von, 203 
 Pohl, 303 
 Pompeii, 345 
 Poole', Miss, 365 
 Poole, Mr., 367, 392 
 Port Elizabeth, 397 
 Prague, 306 
 Preston Guild, 308 
 Pretoria, 402 
 
 Prinsep, Mr. and Mrs., 162, 267 394 
 Procter, Mrs., 165 
 Prudent, 229 
 Prussia, King of, 8G
 
 imu:.\ 
 
 431 
 
 Prussia, Prince Ferdinand of, 194 
 Pupil, an eccentric, 117 
 
 RAMEAU, 123 
 
 Reeves, Sims, 133, 131, 136, L68 
 Reicha, L88, L94, 197 
 Beichardt, 120 
 Reissiger, 10 
 Benshaw, Mr. 242, 36B 
 
 Istoke, Lady, 165 
 Richardson, 145 
 Bichter, Hans, 304 
 Bies, Ferdinand, 6, 10, 12, 17, 219 
 Rinck, 17, 27, 12, 74, 183, L85, L87, 
 
 L92, 197,207 225, 106 
 Rochefuri. Comtesse de, 75 
 Rome, 152, 343 
 Vose, .Mr.. 37."., 38S 
 
 ii, 162 
 Bossini, 44, 99 
 Rubinstein, 37, 261, 329 
 Rudersdorff, Madame, 120, 358 
 Ruland, Dr., 276 
 Raskin, John, 163 
 Russell of Killowen, Lord, 1 7 *'» 
 Russia, Crown Princess of, 74 
 
 Raul, Dr., 293 
 
 Sainton, 124, 136, 24G, 266, 362, 
 
 365 
 Saint-Saens, 167, 334 
 Salvandy, M. de, 77, 91 
 Sand, George, 91 
 Santley, 133, 134, 136, 306, 368 
 Sarcey, Francisque, 331 
 Sartoris, Edward, 105, 165, 265 
 Sartoris, Mrs., 37, 105, 165, 247 
 Saxi-Weimar, Grand Duke of, 74 
 Scarlatti, 123 
 
 Scheffer, Arv, 77, 78, 91, 247 
 Bcherch, Eerr, 373 
 Scbindler, A., 405 
 Schlesinger, Maurice, 40, 59, 199, 
 
 2i 7 
 Schott, 192, 198 
 Schroeter, Baron von, 295 
 Schubert, 53, 112, 123, 161, 326, 
 
 354 
 Schulz, Fran, 201 
 Schumann, 92, 123, 261, 355, 366 
 Schuster, F. Leo, 346 
 Scott, Professor, 361, 363 
 Scribe, 1 5 1 
 
 Selttinghaus, 222, 228 
 Senior, Mrs. Nassau, 251 
 Sey fried, 196 
 
 Seymour, Charles, I 15 
 Seymour, General, 295 
 Sherrington, Madame Lemmens, 
 
 133, 134 
 fried,' 311 
 Sivell, Mr.. 394 
 Sivori, 79, 246, 257 
 Smith de Kit it-ti, Madame, 70 
 Smith, B. T., 133 
 Soligny, M. de, 96 
 
 . Madame, 243, 246 
 Souchay, Charles, 36 I 
 Spohr, 5, 11, 12, 45, 127,360, 388 
 Spontini, 44, 154, 196 
 Stanley, H. M., 371, 382, 386 
 Stephen, Sir Alfred, 3S0 
 Stern, Sigismund, 244, 246, 355 
 Stigelli, 243 
 Stockhaus, Hofrathin, 182, 184, 187, 
 
 193 
 Stockhansen, 239 
 Story, Mrs., 346 
 Straus, L., 151, 167, 174, 309, 341, 
 
 349 
 Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 273 
 Swam, Charles, 363 
 Swinburne, 162 
 Sydney, 377 
 
 Taglioni, Madame, 94 
 Tamberlick, 213 
 Tarrant, Dr., 386 
 Tennyson, Lord, 126, 162 
 Thackeray, 105, 126 
 Thalberg, 39, 164, 229, 241, 363 
 Thiers, 94 
 Thiers, Madame, 9 1 
 Thomas, Lewis, 136, 358 
 Titiens, Madame, 136 
 Tolbecque, 354 
 Toole, J. L., 368, 385 
 Toole, Rev. Canon, 289, 356 
 Trebizond, Bishop of, '■'< 1 1 
 1 Tristan and Isolde,' 311 
 Tulau. 7 
 
 UlUTAX, 85 
 
 Ykknkt, Horace, 91 
 Viardot, Madame, 2 17 
 
 ia, H.M. Queen, 86, 90, 28, 
 177. 279, 293 
 Vienna, 192, 195, 303, 306, 310 
 Vieuxtemps, 124, 250, 256 
 Vblkmann, Robert, 326
 
 DO 
 
 43: 
 
 INDEX 
 
 WAGNBE, 59, 77, 139, 257, 300 
 Wales, H.R.H. the Prince of, 1(8, 
 276,308 
 
 Wales, 1LH.1I. the Princess of, 178, 
 
 276, :'.' 1 - 
 Walker, Fred, 162 
 Wallace, ' Amber Witch,' 133 
 Warsash, 165, 340 
 Watts, 105, 162, 251, 267, 268 
 
 War, Chief Justice, 390, 391 
 Weber, C. M. von, 41, 123, 387 
 Weber, Gottfried, 13, 28, 42, 188, 
 
 193 
 Wei el, 15 
 
 Wieniawski, 256, 258 
 Wiesbaden, 71 
 Wild, 12, 45 
 Wilkinson, Miss, 365 
 Wilson, Mr., 374 
 Wilson, Mrs., 385 
 Wilton, Earl of, 160, 347 
 Wiseman, Cardinal, 252 
 Wolff, 257 
 Worcester, 114 
 
 Yokke, F.on. Mrs. Eliot, 346 
 
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