to know him.  We found him a writer of unusual versatility and a great poet.  His Wohltemperirte Klavier had given us only a hint of all this.  The beauties of this famous work needed exposition for, in the absence of definite instructions, opinions differed.  In the cantatas the meaning of the words serves as an indication and through the analogy between the forms of expression, it is easy to see pretty clearly what the author intended in his Klavier pieces.

One fine day the annual volume was found to contain a cantata in several parts written for a contralto solo accompanied by stringed instruments, oboes and an organ obligato.  The organ was there and the organist as well.  So we assembled the instruments, Stockhausen, the baritone, was made the leader of the little orchestra, and Madame Viardot sang the cantata.  I suspect that the author had never heard his work sung in any such manner.  I cherish the memory of that day as one of the most precious in my musical career.  My mother and M. Viardot were the only listeners to this exceptional exhibition.  We did not dare to repeat it before hearers who were not ready for it.  What would now be a great success would have fallen flat at that time.  And nothing is more irritating than to see an audience cold before a beautiful work.  It is far better to keep to one’s self treasures which will be unappreciated.

One thing will always stand in the way of the vogue of Sebastian Bach’s vocal works—­the difficulty of translation.  When they are rendered into French, they lose all their charm and oftentimes become ridiculous.

* * * * *

One of the most amazing characteristics of Madame Viardot’s talent was her astonishing facility in assimilating all styles of music.  She was trained in the old Italian music and she revealed its beauties as no one else has ever done.  As for myself, I saw only its faults.  Then she sang Schumann and Gluck and even Glinka whom she sang in Russian.  Nothing was foreign to her; she was at home everywhere.

She was a great friend of Chopin and she remembered his playing almost exactly and could give the most valuable directions about the way he interpreted his works.  I learned from her that the great pianist’s (great musician’s, rather) execution was much simpler than has been generally supposed.  It was as far removed from any manifestation of bad taste as it was from cold correctness.  She told me the secret of the true tempo rubato without which Chopin’s music is disfigured.  It in no way resembles the dislocations by which it is so often caricatured.

I have spoken of her great talent as a pianist.  We saw this one evening at a concert given by Madame Schumann.  After Madame Viardot had sung some of Schumann’s lieder with the great pianist playing the accompaniments, the two great artists played the illustrious author’s duet for two pianos, which fairly bristles with difficulties, with equal virtuosity.