OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 137

137.—WAGNER'S WORKING COSTUME.
Of the score of greatest composers, perhaps none was more eccentric than that founder of the modern German operatic school, Richard Wagner. The caller who was unaware of one of his peculiarities might suffer a mild shock; for on entering the room where his visitor was seated Wagner would throw the door wide open before him, as if it were fit that his approach should be heralded ​like that of a king, and he would stand for a moment on the threshold, a curious mediæval figure in a frame.
The mystified visitor, rising from his seat, would behold a man richly clad in a costume of velvet and satin, like those of the early Tudor period, and wearing a bonnet such as are seen in portraits of Henry VI, and his three successors. Buffon used to put on lace ruffles and cuffs when he wrote, and Wagner had his composing costume—that of a Meistersinger—or rather several costumes, for he would vary his attire not only according to his own moods, but according to the faces of people who came to see him.
Alexander Dumas, calling upon him made some good-humored remark about his own ignorance of music which he had once defined as 'the most expensive of noises'; but his pleasantries were listened to with such a smileless stolidity that he went home in a huff, and wrote his contemptuous protest against 'Wagnerian din—inspired by the riot of cats scampering in the dark about an ironmonger's shop.'
On the day before this protest was printed Wagner returned Dumas' visit, and was kept waiting for half an hour in an anteroom.
Then the author of the "Three Guardsmen" marched in, superbly attired in a plumed helmet, a cork life belt and a flowered dressing gown. "Excuse me for appearing in my working dress," he said majestically. "Half my ideas are lodged in this helmet and the other half in a pair of jack-boots which I put on to compose love-scenes."
Snubs of this sort—of which Wagner encountered many—rankled deep in his mind and made him say that the French were Vandals, whereas, in truth, their quarrel was not so much with his music as with him personally and with his uncivil followers.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 143

143.—MENDELSSOHN AT WORK.
Bach used to call composers who could do nothing at writing music without hearing it first on an instrument by a peculiar name. He dubbed them "harpsichord knights." Mendelssohn belonged to a different order of knighthood. A friend once called on him, and finding him engaged in writing music excused himself and offered to call again. But Mendelssohn would not hear of it. He had the gentleman come into his studio, and ​there carried on an animated conversation with him, all the while going on with his work. But let the caller speak of his visit:—
"I remained, and we talked on all kinds of subjects, he continuing to write the whole time. But he was not copying, for there was no paper but that on which he was writing. The work whereon he was busy was the grand overture in C major. It was a score for full band. He began with the uppermost stave, slowly drew a bar line, leaving a good amount of room and then extended the line to the bottom of the page. He next filled in the second, then the third stave, and so on, with pauses and partly with notes. On coming to the violins, it was evident why he had left so much space for the measure. There was a figure requiring considerable room. The longer melody in this part was not treated differently from the other instruments; but like the other parts had its bar given it, and had to wait at the end of one measure till its turn came in the next.
During all this there was no looking forward or backward, no comparing, no humming over, or anything of the sort. The pen kept going steadily on, slowly and carefully, it is true, but without pausing, and we never ceased talking. The "copying out" therefore, as he called it, meant that the whole composition had been so worked out in his mind that he beheld it there as if it were actually lying before him."
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 141

141.—HÄNDEL'S YOUTH.
Händel's father determined that his boy should devote himself to the law; but the future composer evinced a propensity for music that nothing could restrain. He ​was strictly forbidden to touch a musical instrument; but this mandate was overcome by using an old clavichord which was stored in the garret, to which the boy would steal while the rest slept. When he was six years of age his father set off on a journey to the court of a prince in whose service a relative was. The little Händel was determined not to be left behind, and followed the carriage on foot, begging to be taken in. His father finally relented and took him to the court, where he attracted the notice of the prince by his organ playing. The prince was interested in the boy's future, and persuaded the father to allow him to make a serious study of music.
From the age of nine to twelve Handel composed a church service every week for voices and instruments. He made rapid progress in the study of composition, and, by the time he was fifteen, had written three operas, each of which was performed many nights in the city of Hamburg. From this on, a steady stream of composition flowed from his fertile mind, culminating in those master-works, the series of oratorios, which were the product of his latter days.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 142

142.—A VIOLIN FOR EIGHTEEN PENCE.
The ability to recognize the good points of others in musical matters, or to have the grace to acknowledge the superiority of more talented or better educated people is not, to say the least, common among professional musicians.
But this is true: The greater the real merit of a man, the quicker he is ready to recognize that quality in others; while, by a continual depreciation of the work and ability of others, one only shows his smallness of soul, and frequently creates in the minds of his hearers exactly the opposite impression to that which he desires. In proportion as we have merit we will recognize merit ​in others. Greatness has an affinity and admiration for greatness that will not be silent.
Homage to one that excels us but proves our own right to appreciation. We at once think more of an artist or teacher who speaks enthusiastically and appreciatively of the work of some brother musician. But how often we are told what Mr. A. or Miss B. can not do, and what failures they are; and how seldom do we hear what they can do, and how little are their abilities and their successes mentioned?
There is a lesson for us in the words and actions of two of London's great musicians on the occasion of Paganini's first appearance in England.
When this greatest of fiddlers had ceased his playing, Mori, himself a fine violinist, got up from his seat and solemnly inquired of those in his neighborhood, "Who'll buy my fiddle? Who'll buy a fiddle and bow for eighteen pence?" Even Mori's "Strad" went a begging at that price under the spell of the violin-wizard's playing.
Another great musician was present, John Cramer. His tribute to Paganini's playing was the simple words, "Thank heaven, I am not a violinist!"
Cannot the rank and file of the musical profession learn something in this matter of giving credit where credit is due, from the attitude of those who head the army? Or do we even recognize that our armies have commanding generals?
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 144

144.—A DOUBLE DOSE OF BRAHMS.
Von Bülow was a remarkable orchestral conductor; remarkably proficient and remarkably self-willed. There was one city in which he generally received hearty, or at least loud applause, whatever he chose to have his orchestra play. It came about in this way: On one of his concert programmes he had a long and abstruse Brahms symphony. Now Brahms is not a writer to be easily understood or generally enjoyed, and in this case, ​what applause there was, came from gratitude that the end of the lengthy work had been reached, rather than from appreciation of the work itself. Not satisfied with this half-hearted applause, Bülow turned to the audience and said:—
"What, do you not like it? I will teach you to!" and ordered a repetition of the whole work. Succeeding audiences applauded Brahms' symphonies out of sheer self-defense, if for no other reason.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 139

139.—CONSCIENTIOUS ACTING AND SINGING.
The public does not realize the nervous and mental strain the great actors and singers undergo when on the stage, portraying the characters they represent for the pleasure and entertainment of their auditors. Of course, in many cases, the action becomes mechanical and the emotion a cut-and-dried counterfeit. But on this score it may be said that it is the highest art to present emotions from an intellectual standpoint, without being subject to the uncertain whim of the moment.
It is the highest art to conceal art.
Per contra, another school declares an actor should always feel the full extent of the emotion he portrays.
Be that as it may, the proper presentation of the composer's ideas and emotions is a serious study with the conscientious actor. He may study for weeks and months without being able to embody in action his own or the composer's ideas to his satisfaction.
A good example of this is given us in the words of one of the most dramatic singers of Beethoven's time, Madam Schroder-Devrient. This talented woman was the first to fill the rôle of "Leonora" in Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio. She describes her efforts to adequately present the composer's intentions in the following words:
"When I was studying the character of 'Leonora,' at Vienna, I could not attain that which appeared to me to be the desired and natural expression at the moment when Leonora, throwing herself before her husband, holds out a pistol at the governor with the words, 'kill first his wife.' I studied and studied in vain, though I did all I could to place myself mentally in the situation of Leonora. I had pictured to myself the situation, but I felt that it was incomplete, without knowing why or wherefore.
"Well, the evening arrived. The audience knows not ​with what feelings an artiste who enters seriously into a part, dresses for the representation. The nearer the moment approached, the greater was my alarm. When it did arrive, and as I ought to have sung the ominous words and pointed the pistol at the governor, I fell into such utter tremor at the thought of not being perfect in my character, that my whole form trembled, and I thought I should have fallen.
"Now only fancy how I felt when the whole house broke forth into enthusiastic shouts of applause, and what I thought when, after the curtain fell, I was told that this moment was the most effective and powerful of my whole representation.
"That which I could not attain with every effort of mind and imagination, was produced at this decisive moment by my unaffected terror and anxiety. This result, and the effect it had upon the public, taught me how to seize and comprehend the incident; so that which at the first representation I had hit upon unconsciously, I adopted in full consciousness ever afterward in this part."
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 14

14.—OLE BULL AT "ROUGE-ET-NOIR."
Ole Bull first visited Paris in 1831. He was then twenty-one years of age, and had left his native country to make his journey to the French capital on foot, feeling that he must get a hearing, if possible, in some of the musical centers if he was to be successful in his musical life. He arrived tired, with little money and no letters of introduction. In a few days his clothes and his violin were stolen. In his despair, he was ready to seek relief in the Seine; and had it not been for a chance acquaintance who suggested a plan by which he might better his fortunes, he might have come to the same end ​which has overtaken so many discouraged artists in Paris. The stranger, who turned out to be Vidocq, the great detective, directed Ole to go to a gambling establishment where they played "rouge-et-noir," and to continually place his money on the rouge. The young fellow did so, placing his last francs on the red. He won. He played again. Again he was winner. And he continued until a large sum of money was before him.
Fearing to lose what he had won, he retired from the table and watched the play for a few moments, just long enough to see that, had he continued playing the red, he would have won a fortune. But though he was on the verge of starvation, the money thus obtained was not without its sting. He wrote a friend, "What a hideous joy I felt—what a horrible pleasure it was to have saved one's own soul by the spoil of others."
The young Norwegian soon purchased another violin, and, being invited to play at a private concert, succeeded in attracting attention to himself in spite of the fact that all Paris was then worshiping Paganini.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 140

140.—THE PECULIARITIES OF GENIUS.
Men of genius live a double existence. Their better and greater selves are within. They show their true being in their works. The man of genius is wrapped up in his contemplation, in his study, in his evolution of some thought, or some art work. The external life is a necessity, of course, but is more of an unpleasant incident than an enjoyable reality. Let those whose whole life is external and superficial give their time and effort to the mere matter of living pleasantly. The man of genius has something deeper and better to do. But as the everyday life is to be lived, let it come as it may, and within it he will do as the caprice of the moment moves him, without regard to the conventionalities of the world.
​This doctrine seems to express the plan of life of many of those who have given to the world its most imperishable art and ideas; and to none does it apply better than to Beethoven.
His was a rugged, impetuous, and in some respects, careless nature; wrapped up in his inner life, he paid little attention to externals, and was careless of the opinions of others. As his deafness increased, he became more peculiar and less observant of the rights of others. He could hardly hear his piano, and yet would thump and bang it in vain attempts. As he composed he would pace his room, shouting out his melodies in an unmusical voice.
Then, to cap the climax, he would dash a pitcher of water over his hands to cool his feverish pulse. The results were that the landlord would complain of damaged ceiling and flooded rooms, and the other tenants would declare that they would not stay in the house with such a noisy fellow. So off he would go to some other place, and would frequently be paying rent on several places at once.
Then, tired of moving about he would undertake to keep up his own establishment, or would take possession of apartments in the home of some patron that he had perhaps deserted in a moment of anger. One of his admirers kept certain rooms always ready, saying to his servants, "Let them be ready, Beethoven is sure to come back again," and after some more experiences with inexorable landladies, back he would come without notice or warning. Had it been a man of lesser genius, these whims and eccentricities would have been given no quarter. But the peculiarities of genius are forgiven.
# Ante-Nicene Fathers/Volume IV/Tertullian: Part Fourth/On the Apparel of Women/II/Chapter 12

Chapter XII.—Such Outward Adornments Meretricious, and Therefore Unsuitable to Modest Women.
Let us only wish that we may be no cause for just blasphemy! But how much more provocative of blasphemy is it that you, who are called modesty’s priestesses, should appear in public decked and painted out after the manner of the immodest? Else, (if you so do,) what inferiority would the poor unhappy victims of the public lusts have (beneath you)? whom, albeit some laws were (formerly) wont to restrain them from (the use of) matrimonial and matronly decorations, now, at all events, the daily increasing depravity of the age has raised so nearly to an equality with all the most honourable women, that the difficulty is to distinguish them. And yet, even the Scriptures suggest (to us the reflection), that meretricious attractivenesses of form are invariably conjoined with and appropriate to bodily prostitution. That powerful state which presides over the seven mountains and very many waters, has merited from the Lord the appellation of a prostitute. But what kind of garb is the instrumental mean of her comparison with that appellation? She sits, to be sure, “in purple, and scarlet, and gold, and precious stone.” How accursed are the things without (the aid of) which an accursed prostitute could not have been described! It was the fact that Thamar “had painted out and adorned herself” that led Judah to regard her as a harlot, and thus, because she was hidden beneath her “veil,”—the quality of her garb belying her as if she had been a harlot,—he judged (her to be one), and addressed and bargained with (her as such). Whence we gather an additional confirmation of the lesson, that provision must be made in every way against all immodest associations and suspicions.  For why is the integrity of a chaste mind defiled by its neighbour’s suspicion? Why is a thing from which I am averse hoped for in me? Why does not my garb pre-announce my character, to prevent my spirit from being wounded by shamelessness through (the channel of) my ears? Grant that it be lawful to assume the appearance of a modest woman:  to assume that of an immodest is, at all events, not lawful.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Sæculi.
* ↑ Debita.
* ↑ Or, “city.”
* ↑ Or, “sits on high above.”
* ↑ Comp. Rev. xvii.
* ↑ Comp. Gen. xxxviii. 12–30.
* ↑ Congressus.
* ↑ Videri pudicam.
# Ante-Nicene Fathers/Volume IV/Tertullian: Part Fourth/On the Apparel of Women/II/Chapter 4

Chapter IV.—Concerning the Plea of “Pleasing the Husband.”
As if I were speaking to Gentiles, addressing you with a Gentile precept, and (one which is) common to all, (I would say,) “You are bound to please your husbands only.” But you will please them in proportion as you take no care to please others. Be ye without carefulness, blessed (sisters): no wife is “ugly” to her own husband. She “pleased” him enough when she was selected (by him as his wife); whether commended by form or by character. Let none of you think that, if she abstain from the care of her person, she will incur the hatred and aversion of husbands. Every husband is the exactor of chastity; but beauty, a believing (husband) does not require, because we are not captivated by the same graces which the Gentiles think (to be) graces: an unbelieving one, on the other hand, even regards with suspicion, just from that infamous opinion of us which the Gentiles have. For whom, then, is it that you cherish your beauty? If for a believer, he does not exact it: if for an unbeliever, he does not believe in it unless it be artless. Why are you eager to please either one who is suspicious, or else one who desires it not?

## Footnotes

* ↑ Comp. 1 Cor. vii. 34.
* ↑ Comp. 1 Cor. vii. 32.
* ↑ Compositione sui.
* ↑ Bonis.
* ↑ Bona.
* ↑ Simplicem.
# Ante-Nicene Fathers/Volume IV/Tertullian: Part Fourth/On the Apparel of Women/II/Chapter 5

Chapter V.—Some Refinements in Dress and Personal Appearance Lawful, Some Unlawful. Pigments Come Under the Latter Head.
These suggestions are not made to you, of course, to be developed into an entire crudity and wildness of appearance; nor are we seeking to persuade you of the good of squalor and slovenliness; but of the limit and norm and just measure of cultivation of the person. There must be no overstepping of that line to which simple and sufficient refinements limit their desires—that line which is pleasing to God. For they who rub their skin with medicaments, stain their cheeks with rouge, make their eyes prominent with antimony, sin against Him. To them, I suppose, the plastic skill of God is displeasing! In their own persons, I suppose, they convict, they censure, the Artificer of all things! For censure they do when they amend, when they add to, (His work;) taking these their additions, of course, from the adversary artificer. That adversary artificer is the devil. For who would show the way to change the body, but he who by wickedness transfigured man’s spirit? He it is, undoubtedly, who adapted ingenious devices of this kind; that in your persons it may be apparent that you, in a certain sense, do violence to God. Whatever is born is the work of God. Whatever, then, is plastered on (that), is the devil’s work. To superinduce on a divine work Satan’s ingenuities, how criminal is it! Our servants borrow nothing from our personal enemies:  soldiers eagerly desire nothing from the foes of their own general; for, to demand for (your own) use anything from the adversary of Him in whose hand you are, is a transgression. Shall a Christian be assisted in anything by that evil one? (If he do,) I know not whether this name (of “Christian”) will continue (to belong) to him; for he will be his in whose lore he eagerly desires to be instructed.  But how alien from your schoolings and professions are (these things)! How unworthy the Christian name, to wear a fictitious face, (you,) on whom simplicity in every form is enjoined!—to lie in your appearance, (you,) to whom (lying) with the tongue is not lawful!—to seek after what is another’s, (you,) to whom is delivered (the precept of) abstinence from what is another’s!—to practise adultery in your mien, (you,) who make modesty your study!  Think, blessed (sisters), how will you keep God’s precepts if you shall not keep in your own persons His lineaments?

## Footnotes

* ↑ Urgent. Comp. de Pæn., c. xi.
* ↑ “Fuligine,” lit. “soot.” Comp. b. i. c. ii.
* ↑ See c. ii. ad fin.
* ↑ Comp. b. i. c. viii.
* ↑ Infingitur.
* ↑ i.e., subject to whom.
* ↑ Disciplinis.
* ↑ Species.
* ↑ Credite.