Musical Thought and Activity Over the Seas

By Arthur Elson

Liszt at the Lesson

In Die Musik, Siloti gives a number of reminiscences of Liszt. He could be caustic enough when he wished. On hearing an acquaintance remark, “I don't know anything about music," Liszt at once replied, “Then you must become a critic." To a poor performer who came recommended by royalty, he said, “You had better study, and not beg letters from queens.” When an over-ambitious composer, who had imitated the “Faust” symphony rather closely, brought his score for Liszt’s inspection and autograph, the latter wrote, “To Herr X,
who can write like this, and better." 

In his teaching, Liszt would apparently make very few adverse comments to the pupils; but in reality he expressed much. He could say a simple “Gut!” with more varieties of expression than the average student was aware of; and only a few were satisfied that his accent meant approbation. If the performance was only moderate, he would say, “I know half a dozen who play like that, and as many who do it better.” For rather poor work, he would exclaim, “Even the Princess (Elizabeth) plays that better.” Only once or twice a year would he have occasion to get really angry at wretched playing. Then he would ejaculate furiously, “I am no washerwoman, take your dirty linen to a Conservatory."

Liszt was usually the best of companions, though occasionally he would become nettled over a game of cards. Personalities sometimes made him lose his temper, too. Once a pupil, and one who has since become world-famous, imitated Liszt’s peculiar, hissing laugh behind his back; whereupon the master turned and gave the offender a solid box on the ear.

Instruments of Bygone Days

In the International Society's Quarterly, Curt Sachs writes of an old German poem, entitled “Der Minne Regel," and quotes from it a list of early instruments. Of these the Flegil was a form of flute, and,the Schachtbret an elementary spinet, while the Medicinale, which sounds more like a surgical than a musical instrument, is at present unknown. The other names, according to the writer, need no special explanation; but American readers may think differently when they see these names. They are “Cymbel, Harffe, Monocordium, Portitiff, Psalterium, Lute, Clavicymbalom, Quinterna, Gyge, Videle, Lyra, Rubeba, Phife, Floyte, Schalmey and Horn." How many readers can describe these instruments without further information?

Cymbals and harp are clear enough, and the rote was a small square harp. The monochord (tromba marina) was a single~stringed affair suitable for the unskilled. Clavichords were probably more primitive among the minnesingers than in Bach's day. The portatif (like the regals) was a small portable organ. The psaltery was a species of dulcimer, the Oriental
precursor of the piano; and the clavicembalo had an actual keyboard. Quinterna may be a form of gittern or guitar. Gyge suggests geige, the German name for the violin, and videle gives the same idea; but the instruments of the poet’s time must have been of the flatter and smoother-toned viol type. Rubeba (rebab) was the Arabian precursor of the violin. The schalmey was an early clarinet.

The minnesingers and troubadours had instruments enough, and their music was a much more pleasing affair than the crude efforts of the early contrapuntists. Adam de la Hale's thirteenth-century work, “Robin et Marion,” was really an effective comic opera, in which the over-boastful hero shows much unexpected cowardice when called upon to defend his sweetheart against the advances of a nobleman. The old lyrics, as shown by the songs of Gaucelm Faidit, King Thibaut, and others, were bright enough in style, and far more attractive than the puzzle-canons of later centuries.

The life of a troubadour, too, was not always unpleasing. When spring came, he would issue forth from his home, with a train of pages and jongleurs, to visit some neighboring castle. During banquets, the jongleurs would play various pieces, including whatever works their master had composed. In some meadow bower, or while taking the air on the walls, the troubadour might take a guitar and air his own skill in singing.

Where the minnesingers praised the more ideal side of love, the troubadours often chose an individual to receive their homage; and if she was married, as often happened, the troubadours' attentions sometimes caused trouble. One over-bold minstrel knight carried matters so far that his lady's irate husband killed him, and had his heart served to the lady at her next meal. When she had eaten it, the vengeful husband told her what the tasteful dish had been; whereupon she declared it had been so good that no other food should
ever follow it, and starved herself to death. But such cases, it would seem, were extreme, and the troubadour could usually enjoy life without making trouble for himself.

The jongleurs, however, became the real musicians. When wars had obliterated their original masters, the jongleurs became strolling players, earning a precarious living by music as well as by the juggling tricks that are named from them. The best was he who could play the most instruments; and one of them, according to the Bodleian manuscript at Oxford, could perform on “The lute, the viol, the pipe, the bagpipe, the syrinx, the harp, the gigue, the gittern, the symphony, the psaltery, the organistrum, the regals, the tabour, and the rote.” Most of these are found in “Der Minne Regel;" the tabour was a shepherd's pipe, the symphony (zumpogna) a sort of bagpipe, and the organistrum a primitive hand-organ with strings to be pressed against a turning wheel. On the whole, then, the instruments of those times would not have proven unworthy to be handled by some medieval Richard Strauss.