Music-Study in Germany, from the Home Correspondence of Amy Fay. Fay Amy

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СКАЧАТЬ to render him an admirable representative of our country to this haughty kingdom, and I hear that he is very popular with its selfsatisfied citizens. As for Mrs. Bancroft, one could hardly be more elegant, or better suited to the position. Mr. Bancroft is passionately fond of music, and knows what good music is, – which is of course an additional title to my high opinion!

      The other day Herr J. called for me to go and take a walk through the Thier-Garten, and see the skating. It was the first time I had been there, though it is not far from us, and I was delighted with it. It is the natural forest, with beautiful walks and drives cut through it, and statues here and there. We went to see the skating, and it was a lovely sight. The band was playing, and ladies and gentlemen were skating in time to the waltz. Many ladies skate very elegantly, and go along with their hands in their muffs, swaying first to one side and then to the other. It is grace itself. Carriages and horses pranced slowly around the edge of the pond, and at last the Prince and Princess Royal came along, drawn by two splendid black horses.

      The carriage stopped and they got out to walk. "Now," said I to Herr J., "you must take off your hat" – for everybody takes off his hat to the Crown Prince. As they passed us he did take it off, but blushed up to his ears, which I thought rather odd, until he said, in a half-ashamed tone, "That is the first time in my life that I ever took off my hat to a Prince." "Well, what did you do it for?" said I. "Because you told me to," said he. He is such a red hot republican, that even such a little act of respect as this grated upon him! I only told him in fun, any way, but I was very much amused to see how he took it. He always raves over the United States, and says we are the greatest country in the world. He is a strange man, and you ought to hear his theory of religion. He sets the Bible entirely aside – like most German cultivated men. We were talking of it one night, and he said, "We won't speak of that blockhead Peter, stupid fisherman that he was! but we will pass on to Paul, who was a man of some education." David, he calls "that rascal David, etc." Of course, I hold to my own belief, but I can't help laughing to hear him, it sounds so ridiculous. The world never had any beginning, he says, and there is no resurrection. We live only for the benefit of the next generation, and therefore it is necessary to lead good lives. We inherit the result of our father's labours, and our children will inherit ours. So we shall go on until the human race comes to a state of perfection. "And then what?" said I. Oh – then, he didn't know. Perhaps the world would explode, and go off in meteors. "We do know," said he, "that there are lost stars. Occasionally a star disappears and we can't tell what has become of it; and perhaps the earth will become a wandering star, or a comet. The intervals between the stars are so great as to admit of a world wandering about – and there is no police in those regions, I fancy," concluded he, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Do you really believe that, Herr J.?" I asked. "Oh," said he, "we won't speak about beliefs. Now we are speculating!" He is a delightful companion, and I think he is scrupulously conscientious. Though he does not profess the Christian faith, he acts up to Christian principles.

      CHAPTER IV

Opera and Oratorio in Berlin. A Typical American. Prussian Rudeness. Conservatory Changes. EasterBERLIN, March 20, 1870.

      On Wednesday the Bancrofts most kindly called for me to go to the opera with them. They came in their carriage, with two horses and footmen, so it was very jolly, and we bowled rapidly through Unter den Linden (the Broadway of Berlin), in rather a different manner from the pace I usually crawl along in a droschkie. They had fine opera glasses, of course, and we took our seats just as the overture was about to begin, so that everything was charming except that instead of Lohengrin, which we had expected to hear, they had changed the opera to Faust, which I had heard the week before. Faust is, however, a fascinating opera, and it is beautifully given here, albeit the Germans stick to it that it is Gounod's Faust and not Goethe's.

      Since I have come here I have a perfect passion for going to the opera, for everything is done in such superb fashion, and they have the orchestra of the Symphony Kapelle, which is so splendid that it could not be better. It is a pity the singers are not equally good, but I don't believe Germany is the land of great voices. However, the men sing finely, and the prima donnas have much talent, and act beautifully. The prima donna on this occasion was Mallinger, the rival of Lucca. She is especially good as Margaretta. Niemann and Wachtel are the great men singers. Wachtel was formerly a coachman, but he has a lovely voice. His acting is not remarkable, but Niemann is superb, and he sings and acts delightfully. He is very tall and fair, with light whiskers, and golden hair crowning a noble head, in truth a regular Viking. When he comes out in his crimson velvet mantle and crimson cap, with a white plume, and begins singing these delicious love songs to Margaretta, he is perfectly enchanting! He and Mallinger throw themselves into the long love scene which fills the third act, and act it magnificently. It was the first time I ever saw a love scene well done. The fourth act is most impressive. The curtain rises, and shows the interior of a church. The candles are burning on the altar, and the priests and acolytes are standing in their proper order before it. The organ strikes up a fugue and all the peasants come in and kneel down. Then poor Margaretta comes in for refuge, but when she kneels to pray a voice is heard which tells her that for her there is no refuge or hope in heaven or earth.

      This scene Mallinger does so well that it is nature itself. When the voice is heard she gives a shriek, totters for a moment, and then falls upon the floor senseless, and O, so naturally that one is entirely carried away by it. The organ takes up the fugue, and the curtain drops. The contrast between the two acts makes it all the more effective, for in the third it is all love and flowers and languishing music, and in the fourth one is suddenly recalled to the sanctity and severity of the church; also, after the orchestra this subdued fugue on the organ makes a very peculiar impression. In the fifth act Margaretta is in prison, and Faust and Mephistopheles come to rescue her. This is a powerful scene, for at first she hesitates, and thinks she will go with them, and then her mind wanders, and she recalls, as in a vision, the happy scenes of earlier days. They keep urging her, and try to drag her along with them, but at last she breaks free from them and cries, "To Thee, O, God, belongs my soul," and falls upon her straw pallet, and dies. Then the scene changes, and you see four angels gradually floating up to heaven, supporting her dead body, while the chorus sings:

      "Christ ist erstanden

      Aus Tod und Banden

      Frieden und Heil verkeisst

      Aller Welt er, die ihn preist."2

      This ends the opera, which is very exciting throughout. I am going to read the original as soon as I know a little more German, so that I shan't have to read with a dictionary. I am just getting able to read Goethe without one, and think he is the most entrancing writer. There never could have been a man who understood women so well as he! His female characters are perfectly captivating, but he is not very flattering to his own sex, and generally makes them, in love, (what they are) weak and vacillating.

      I met a very agreeable young countryman at a dinner the other day – a Mr. P. – and a great contrast to any of Goethe's ill-regulated heroes. He was the typical American, I thought. Wide awake, bright, with a sharp eye to business, very republican, with a hearty contempt for titles and a great respect for women, practical and clear-headed. When the wine was passed round he refused it, and said he had never drunk a glass of wine or touched tobacco in his life. I was so amused, for he looked so young. I said to myself, "probably you are just out of college, and are travelling before you settle down to a profession." After a while he said something about his wife. I was a little surprised, but still I thought "perhaps you have only been married a few months." A little further on he mentioned his children. I was still more surprised, but thought he couldn't have more than two; but when Mrs. B. asked him how many he had, and he said "three living and two dead," adding very gravely, "I have been twice left childless," I could scarcely help bursting out laughing, for I had thought him about twenty-one, and these revelations of a wife and numerous family seemed too preposterous! – But it was very nice to see such a model countryman, too. It is such men that make the American greatness.

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