neglected here. Although our climate has some influence on the deficiency of voices, fit for solo singing in our musical societies, yet if we would but early look up good voices, before they get spoiled by the constant bawling and roaring, which is so peculiar to our school children, and if we would carefully and systematically train them, we would find by no means such a scarcity of them.

That the cultivation of the voice itself must be less an object here, is evident already from the circumstance, that all these voices undergo the usual change (mutation) after they leave the class, or shortly before. But in these large classes of a hundred pupils or more, this is out of the question, since it requires the attention of the teacher to each individual pupil and individual practice by each pupil, for without these the voice cannot be properly trained.

LISZT

BIOGRAPHY.

FURTHER NOTICES, TAKEN FROM A GERMAN BIOGRAPHY.

Liszt is one of the few favored sons of nature, in whom the most brilliant intellectual capacities have begun to develop themselves at a time when others begin only physically to exist, or even to vegetate merely; but he distinguishes himself from the common infant prodigies by the circumstance, that the rich fountain of his spiritual development does not seem to exhaust, and that he strives, although somewhat late, for a general harmonious cultivation. If he had done this earlier, he would even now not be merely admired as musician, but also as poet and student, and be an extraordinary appearance in every respect. This is fully confirmed by the history of his life.

The year of his birth, 1811, being that of the appearance of a comet, his parents found in this circumstance the prognostic of important events in the life of their child.

In his intimate intercourse with Haydn, Francis's father found a compensation for the disappointments of his own youthful imagination, which had charmed him in vain with the bright idea of the life of an artist. But when in his son undeniably a rare talent for music awoke, his old fancies sprung up again in full vigor. He said, that in his son his own genius had been regenerated; in him he would realize that ideal of an artist, which had in vain charmed his youthful

thoughts. In this happy belief, he took care to begin his son's musical education early.

The history of Liszt's youth is very interesting, and we regret not to have room for greater detail; yet we cannot omit to mention several traits, which in this age already point to the direction, which the mind and the talents of the artist afterwards have taken. They are free and independent indications of the turn of his mind, explaining certain facts in after life which otherwise, without their knowledge, might be mistaken for studied affectations and eccentricities of character. We take them from a journal of the life of his son, which Adam Liszt, the father, kept regularly to the time of his death.

He says: "The natural turn of Francis's mind led him early to devotion, and from their first awakening the feelings of the artist were blended in him with those of piety, showing themselves in the full sincerity of his age."

"The words in Chateaubriand's Réné, 'Un instinct secret me tourmente,' * appeared to be a reflection of his own feelings; for he had written them on all his books."

His first concert, in Vienna, was one of the most remarkable ones ever given there by a young virtuoso. All the most eminent artists were present, even Beethoven not excepted, who otherwise at that time already kept himself entirely aloof from the world, on account of his bodily suffering and consequent mental melancholy. Beethoven pressed friendly and encouragingly the hand of our young Francis, and thus marked him, as it were, worthy of the name of an artist.

When Liszt arrived in Paris, his reputation soon penetrated to the Palais Royal; father and son were ordered there on new year's day, and the little virtuoso of twelve years of age charmed all those present. The duke of Orleans, enchanted by his playing, wanted him to ask a present. "This punch," he called out, pointing to a doll hanging by the door.

Thus a whole year passed, in which the talented boy was the petted favorite of all the Parisian young ladies. His tricks and frolics, his whims and humors, all were indulged and admired. At the age of twelve years he had excited passion, awakened jealousy, and kindled hatred; all the heads were turned. One evening, while he was handed round and caressed in all the boxes of the Italian opera, he felt himself suddenly tenderly embraced; it was Talma. The

* A secret instinct torments me.

immediate consequence of this general homage, was the loss of that innocent" naivete." He felt himself no longer a child, in the consciousness of his talent, which had preceded his age; but in order really to be above his age, he adopted rough habits, and a certain appearance of proud seriousness. But the consequences were of greater importance for his whole development than those; his talents were subjected to certain habits, and the activity of his mind took a peculiar turn. His father felt this, and thought it, therefore, highly necessary to subject him to the strict rule of persevering labor.

In London, the celebrated phrenologist, Deville, without knowing hím, pronounced him, on examining his head, a born musician, and hearing his name, kissed him tenderly.

On his second visit in England, he heard, in St. Paul's church, a choir of from seven to eight thousand children from the free schools, singing unisono hymns and psalms. This made on him one of those rare impressions, which powerfully affect the mind, but which must not be repeated too often lest it weaken this effect.

His stay in Lyons was important for him, for here first the consciousness of his destination awoke in him in full vigor. The immediate cause is not known; but something important and unpleasant must have happened to, or in him there, for he returned suddenly thence to Paris, and took lessons in counterpoint from Reicha, and never liked to speak of Lyons. May be a similar trick with one which he played in Bordeaux, failed. He played there one of his own sonatas as one of Beethoven's, and heard it highly commended all round. He himself does not like to speak of his stay in Lyons, and indulged, since that time, more and more his tendency to piety and solitude, a character which was exactly the opposite of that of his father. When he was provided with money, he could keep himself shut up for six months, seeing nobody. "Les pères du desert," was his favorite, and almost his only reading. He seemed to have caught an antipathy to music, and practised only at the command of his strict father. An incessant anguish of heart tormented him, scruples beset his mind, and only in confession he found comfort and tranquillity.

After another musical tour, in 1827, to Geneva, Lausanne, and Switzerland to Bern, he cheered up a little, but not much. His piety, however, took a little more rational turn, and his frequent praying the litany was done to his own true edification. He went therefore in the same year to England, where he met with the greatest success, especially in Drury Lane. On his return, however, his

health failed, and to regain it, he went with his father to the Baths of Boulogne. He recovered, but his father died, and this loss prostrated him, for the moment, entirely.

However, as soon as the thought gained ground in him, that now his task of obedience was accomplished, he rose again from his despair. The free life, that opened before him, had great charms for him. As man, he entered upon it considerately and modestly; but as artist, he rushed wildly on to the wide course, where nothing now reined in his steps, and we see in very short periods strange changes occur in, and to him. Paris was made the centre of his life. Thither returned from Boulogne, he made his living by giving lessons in music. His ideas were far-reaching; he devoted himself passionately to literary researches; he took up opera texts, and began to compose them. The romantic era, which was in full bloom at the time in the French literature and art, drew him also within its seductive sphere, when suddenly an unfortunate passion for a rich and noble lady, turned his mind to contemplate the whole world from its darkest side. Like Silvio Pellico, his whole soul was wrapt up in God. His only and favorite intercourse was with Urhan. He strove now to compose not merely religious, but truly sacred music, and began upon masses; but an illness prevented their completion. His energy seemed to sink beneath the excess of activity of his mind and feelings.

Several papers announced already his death, when he suddenly appeared, an entirely altered man, ridiculing art and religion, nervous, and open to sensual impressions, and thus, as it were, ready to fall a victim of low passions. His only musical composition in this period was his Fantaisie sur la fiancée; and this gives evidence of the state of his mind. It is a piece showing a mocking soberness, and a spirit like Byron's; coquettishly brilliant in Herz's manner. Happily for him, he soon felt satiety from indulgence in sensual enjoyments, and consequently the want of labor, of knowledge, and of renewed use of the artistic powers, that were left him. He felt himself challenged by the progress and brilliant success of his compeers in art, and his own self, his own pride was roused. "I must be the Paganini of the pianoforte," he said to himself, and this thought has since not left him. He went for half a year to Switzerland, mainly for undisturbed practice. After his return to Paris, he frequented the theatre of the " porte St. Martin" much, where" Marian de Lorme," and "Antony" were played. To a passage from one of these pieces, he has added his "Reminiscence of his sojourn on the Mont Blanc."

From St. Simonism, which he had incautiously adopted, he seceded

now.

Meanwhile the year 1830 arrived. Liszt witnessed the revolution of the three days; he conceived the idea to write a “symphonie revolutionaire." It will therefore be easily conceived, what turn his art had taken; and this will be still more evident on looking over his latest compositions, the "Apparitions," the "Harmonies poetiques et religieuses," and the "Grand Fantasia di Bravura sur la Clochette de Paganini" and others. They contain extraordinary difficulties, which may be under his own hands very effective; yet their conception is so singular, that we could well appreciate the censure which he had to suffer from many quarters, when he thus began to follow entirely his own conception in the creation of new works; while he had been previously, writing under the authority of strict rules.

Liszt himself must be personally known, in order to form a true estimation of his compositions and his playing. A man, who, having in 1831, in a concert, accompanied an air for Madame Malibran, and leading her, the universally celebrated songstress back to her box, could leave her the moment he saw Lafayette passing by, and in one leap throw himself on the neck of the old general, such a man cannot be common, and certainly does not confine himself to old rules and usages. Liszt's art is a true impress of his life; all its changes are faithfully portrayed in the characteristics and defects of his music. And his whole life is nothing but a headlong precipitation into the chaos, in which our whole time ferments. His mind has associated and identified itself by means of an astonishing power of sympathy with everything great and splendid in our present state of society; but in his fervent zeal, to learn, to conceive everything, he did not always know how to distinguish the dry dust from the fertile soil. Therefore his disposition to mix sorrow with his enjoyments, and to darken sorrow into despair, and which disposition we find most faithfully expressed in all his works. With the same insatiable eagerness with which he devours the works of his friends, Lamartine, Delamennais, Hugo, De Vigny, Ballanche and Madame Dudevant, trying to make their ideas his own, he studies the distinguishing characteristics of Chopin, Hiller, Mendelssohn, Urhan and Berlioz, all of which he wants to concentrate within himself.

He lives entirely in his art, it governs his whole being. His performance is therefore not merely a mechanical, matter-of-fact exercise, but in the strictest sense of the word a composition, a distinct creation