Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 205
205.—WHAT'S IN A NAME.
In answer to this question we must reply, everything, to some people. To illustrate this we can do no better than to quote some of Liszt's experiences. When he was a boy he used occasionally to enjoy a prank at the expense of his audiences. He writes:
"When I was very young, I often amused myself with playing school-boy tricks, of which my auditors never failed to become the dupes. I would play the same piece, at one time as of Beethoven, at another as of Czerny, and, lastly, as my own. The occasion on which I passed myself off for the author, I received both protection and encouragement: 'It really was not bad for my age.' The day I played it under the name of Czerny I was not listened to; but when I played it as being the composition of Beethoven, I made certain of the 'bravos' of the whole assembly."
This proves what is frequently true, that people enjoy the composer's name more than they do his music. Liszt also gives another experience which proves that to many people the name matters more than the music. It was at a time when he had been bringing out many of Beethoven's works. Says he: "Beethoven's glory is consecrated. The most ignorant among the ignorant shelter themselves behind his colossal name; and even envy herself, in her impotence, avails herself of it, as with a club, to crush all contemporary writers who appear to elevate themselves above their fellows. This winter I devoted several musical performances almost exclusively to the bringing forward duets, trios, and quintets of Beethoven. I was sure of being wearisome, but I was also sure that no one dare say so. There were really brilliant displays of enthusiasm; one might have easily been deceived, and thought that the crowd were subjugated by the power of genius; but at one of the last performances an inversion in the order of the programme completely put an end to the error. Without any explanation, a trio of Pixis was played in the place of one by Beethoven.
"The 'bravos' were more numerous, more brilliant than ever, and when the trio of Beethoven took the place assigned to that of Pixis, it was found to be cold, mediocre, and even tiresome, so much so, indeed, that many made their escape, thinking it was a piece of impertinence in Monsieur Pixis to presume to be listened to by an audience that had assembled to admire the masterpieces of the great man.
"I am far from inferring by what I have just related that they were wrong in applauding Pixis' trio, but he himself could not but have received with a smile of pity the applause of a public capable of confounding two compositions and two styles so totally different; for, most assuredly, the persons who could fall into such a mistake are wholly unfit to appreciate the real beauties in his works."