The diary of
Furtwängler's father
This text comes from the diary of Furtwängler's father, the archaeologist Adolf Furtwängler, and is actually part of Mrs. Elisabeth Furtwängler's private archive. It is not a literary text but a series of observations and ideas randomly put on paper, leaving at times a somewhat chaotic impression.. The sentences (jumbled, written in telegraphic style, with strange or no punctuation, switching between tenses) are as they appear in the original that was also published in the Wilhelm Furtwängler-Tage, 1st volume, Jena, 6-9 November 1997.
Wilhelm
Autumn 1900 to September 1901
a) Physical development: good, full puberty. Deep voice, Adam's apple prominent, unfortunately nose is reddish and swelling; blond, very thick hair - blond moustache is now visible, as well as the start of fluff under the chin. Physically strong: long, large arms, decidedly he'll be stronger than me. May 1900: he already weighs 68,5 kg fully clothed...
b) Mental development: surprising maturity of judgment. Now he has to develop the conscious ability to think logically, to analyze and to identify the overall structure of a piece of music. Of course, this also means his own compositions are not as free-form as they used to be. However, the most important is that he develops beyond Romanticism. Brahms and Schubert - whom he so much venerated - have taken a backseat, and Beethoven is now more prominent. He studies Beethoven in depth, and in Tanneck he rapidly learns his symphonies, and also his late piano sonatas, by heart.
He recognizes the value of established musical structure. Willi doesn't feel music is the way he should express his own feelings; he rejects this completely, but understands that musical thoughts are expressed in determined and fixed forms. He finds his older compositions too brahmsian, and he is mercilessly self-critical to the point of self-flagellation. Today's neo-Romanticism, which he is surrounded with, is the absolute opposite of what he is looking for and he despises it - to him, the theory that says that music expresses well-defined things is utter nonsense, and put about by people who know nothing about music. All this is part and parcel of an evolution that comes from within. He is entirely independent in the way he pursues his own path, driven by an inner urge.
The marvelous trio for piano he composed last year is going to be performed at our house - each time you listen to it, it keeps revealing new beauties (Rizeler violin, Waldhauer cello). We will have some guests. Cornelius had convinced me to send the trio to that senile old Simrock who sent it back with a very silly letter, saying that here is a musician who has clearly missed out on modernity!
Willi played me some of his wonderful melodies and kept saying that he is not happy with them - he wants more and better - he complains that the ideas are missing - but when he finally gives free rein to his fantasy, his inventiveness is so rich that anyone else would just be serving up giant quantities of potatoes and cabbage. But this isn't how Wilhelm works. He doesn't care for that at all - he sees only the absolute Beethoven and there nothing can be good enough.
Willi plays the second violin in the string quartet, and can already play Mozart's violin sonatas. He regularly takes two hours' lessons with Mrs. Sulzer and learns counterpoint with Beer. Once a week, he studies new scores with Dohrn.
We are carrying on with private tutoring because it is more in tune with Willi's need to be independent. Willi himself wants to go on like this. Of course he misses the support of a school, but he doesn't really need it and seems to be strong enough to learn on his own.
Since I had to travel to Egina in September, I decided to take him along with me to refresh his mind with new impressions. However, throughout the journey, he was not very responsive to what was happening around him, and was plunged in his own thoughts, his correspondence with Bertel, Goethe's poems and the letters in his pocket. Appears unhappy with himself. He's so impatient. He wants to be able to immediately reach this lofty goal he's set himself. In Egina he tries to write a fugue for his sextet's last movement. But he doesn't succeed. Instead of looking at the countryside and at the people, he is entirely self-absorbed.
He brought along the Beethoven quartets and studied them. The style of the last quartets and above all the Grosse Fugue are his ideal. But the trip itself leaves him quite a number of impressions and he gets back home refreshed.
Winter 1901/2 and Summer 1902
He continues his education and learns Greek with Curtius. Dänzler starts teaching him history, maths and how to write essays, and here I can see just how mature he's become. Very different from how I was at that age: none of my own adolescent exuberance, so much clearer and calmer, more reasonable and no letting himself plunge headlong according to the dictates of his own emotions. Decidedly mature judgment and ability to think independently.
We renew our relationship with Schillings whom he loves listening to; another thing he's learning to handle without abandoning his chosen path. Schillings says that what he wants is impossible; but W. feels and knows that it is possible and that he can attain it. He's impatient to be able to demonstrate it.
In Florence he has started composing a great symphony. He rejects infinite quantities of what he doesn't like. He conjures up a clearly defined melody and the most vigorous polyphony quite beautifully, very clear and in strict form. One would never believe that it is improvised, it sounds so complete and well-designed. Only when you ask him what it was, he'll say: "Nothing. - You cannot understand how much my own compositions are really better than this!" If only he wrote more of it down. He shows the same discipline and reticence in terms of publishing. He only wants a choral work and a lied to be printed: he says his other compositions are too slight to be published. So hard on himself and at such a tender age! He only reads serious and grandiose things. Goethe again and again, Shakespeare. Above all Faust.
Summer 1902 - 1903
Physically strong, no illness. His beard is growing fast. But his nose is still a bit large. Some weakness in the lower part of his face. A lack of energy in the jaw, very visible when he eats; he eats very slowly. The way he carried himself and walks also suggest at times a certain limpness. His whole being lacks vivacity and an openly winning quality. But when necessary, he can be very apt and energetic. Always modest and simple. Like a man in ancient times - I am only saddened by the fact that he seems to have no killer instinct - as soon as he finishes playing the most beautiful melodies, he seems to totally forget what he's just done, as if it was of no consequence!
He says there is nothing new to discover in music any more. Beethoven has already done everything and whatever one does it's just imitating later Beethoven. No sign of ambition, no will to make a name for himself or to show what he's capable of. But he knows perfectly well that what he is capable of, that no one else can do what he can do. I get the impression he thinks no living musician really makes much of an impression on him.
The rest of the year was uneventful, no travel, therefore comparatively calm. He has given up his lessons, except for his violin and piano lessons with Ms. Sulzer. He still goes to see Schillings on a regular basis, to discuss this and that, and Schillings teaches him the principles of conducting. In the Spring he began to compose a great deal.
The entire year he practices regularly at the piano, makes great progress. He plays the late period Beethoven sonatas marvelously. He also plays the violin and the viola parts in string quartets, sometimes even here at home.
September 1903 - May 1904
At the beginning of November 1903, his first symphony is to be performed in Breslau. He leaves early to attend the final rehearsals. Stupidly, Dohrn hasn't the guts to let him conduct it himself. In Breslau he's got a sore throat and so can only attend one rehearsal, which goes very badly. I arrive in Breslau for the concert. He manages to get up from his sick bed and accompanies me.
Nobody knows a thing about Willi: his music is unfamiliar and people don't know what to do with it; there is applause but - I was told afterwards, but didn't hear it - there was also a lot of whistling. W. didn't react: very calm, head held high. He left the hall - oblivious to the catcalls - it didn't seem to affect him in the slightest. And then the critics - a particularly bad one from the chief music critic, who has a beef against Dohrn and used Willi as a convenient scapegoat.
W. stayed a few days on in Breslau, still suffering from his sore throat.
And then on to Berlin. We wanted W. to at least get to know music circles in Berlin; we thought that his music would at least be understood there. He attended some university lectures. Except for a short break at Christmas, W. remained in Berlin and lived alone the first time at Augsburgerstr. 19.III.
He didn't like Berlin at all. He found the atmosphere for making music very bad; no independent or fresh judgment, nothing but warmed-over remains served on very old-fashioned plates!. Joachim especially was a great let-down. He had been asked to listen to W.'s quartet: after several changes of dates, at last he was ready in January or February: W. played it for him, he didn't even listen to it in its entirety, interrupted W. and said that it was nonsense, that it wasn't even music, or something of the kind.
Incredible - an old, limited man - he can therefore never have understood late Beethoven; it never seems to have occurred to him that here is someone who's carrying on Beethoven's genius. How incredibly coarse not to have appreciated Willi's refined and inner sensitivity, transcendent and deep, whose quartet speaks to any listener capable of listening! It is the best quartet ever written after Beethoven, W. knows it perfectly well and nothing Joachim could do or say could shake Will's belief in himself W. put up with this let-down calmly and serenely, which goes to show his self-confidence.
Things are always so different from the way the others want them. To recognize and accept this was the main lesson Will gained from his stay in Berlin. Obviously this depressed him a great deal.
I often wonder if we did the right thing in not having him appear in public when he was still a child. It would have been much easier for him to be successful; now it's a lot harder. All the help he gets comes with strings attached, and there's a lot of downright opposition, indifference and mistrust because his music seems light years removed from today's fashion: that and his own shyness and unwillingness or inability to assert himself. Now we must be patient. We are only going to publish his music when success is guaranteed by a concert. But it is sad to see other young people, clumsy and without real talent, succeed and get praised everywhere. Willi puts up with this with incredible calm. Maybe he'll develop better if he has to fight for something. His music has lost that ease and charm that ran through it before the crisis in 1901/2. It sometimes returns when he daydreams. Now his music is insubordinate, coarse but deep and imposing.
For the moment he doesn't want to conduct or do anything practical. As long as it's not vital, maybe it's better to let him continue in this vein.
May 1904 - August 1906
In Summer 1904 we allowed W. to leave with Harald and Wolf Dohrn for Russia, to stay at the property of Mrs. Dohrn's father - a very long journey - we hoped it would help him rediscover regular sleeping habits; but it didn't really work: his insomnia worries us - and W. himself is very depressed. He isn't enrolled in the army. In 1904 he had to pass the Einjährigenprüfung (*) - and thanks to Georg Dohrn, Addy found him a position as co-repetitor at the Breslau theatre. He starts Autumn 1905 but leaves Christmas 1905/6. He spends the winter 1904/5 at home. Summer 1905 he accepts an invitation from his friend von Glenau (a Danish composer) and travels to Denmark, to the North sea near Hellebaeck. But he still has insomnia. He fails his Einjährigenprüfung even in 1905.
* Einjährigenprüfung: this was a twelve month voluntary military service in the Army, that young people could enrol in as an alternative to enrolment in the regular army (if they could afford it). After this year, one became a lieutenant.
A whole series of letdowns: Mottl, on whom we counted, remains very polite but seems to be avoiding Willi, he doesn't even listen to his music, he barely glanced at a manuscript of a choral composition, and says that its instrumentation is impractical; Schillings has no class or the courage to champion Willi in public; the Munich clique doesn't want him to become well-known. We now realize we were wrong not to have allowed him to appear in public when he was still a child. The public worship you only if you're a success. We held back and there was no one around to give us good advice - nobody who knew these things and was well-intentioned - usually those who mean well don't know how the world works.
He might have got a musical post, and would have been extraordinary - because what he did as a child was absolutely unique and now he has to line up along with a lot of bumblers, and nobody seems to notice the difference between them and Willi. And he seems to be able to put up with all of this magnificently. Those were hard and bitter years. But at least in Breslau he could get to some practical work under his belt. When he came back for Christmas in 1905, he surprised us by telling that he had decided to become a public figure and take up conducting.
Agreement with the Kaim orchestra. Willi will become the Chief Conductor of the Kaim orchestra if his concert is successful. But Kaim played a trick on him, and kept their present conductor; they only told W. after the concert. That concert cost us over 1400 M. - Until then W. never had the opportunity to conduct, and now he only had three rehearsals! Moreover, he chooses the difficult Bruckner Ninth as well as a movement of his own symphony. The concert took place in February - the concert hall was full and was a genuine success, even if his own composition was totally misunderstood and the critics were fairly reserved. Nobody dared say what the most of the audience noticed: that Willi made a big impression.
What a wonderful feeling to watch W. conduct for the first time. I also attended the dress rehearsal. The power with which W. plunges into work, what great freedom, freshness and force, what violence he manages to get out of himself - a unique moment - this timid young man who suddenly becomes a man, with such thriving force. Naturally his gestures are rather exaggerated, like with most young men; but what a wonderful sight! The orchestra is very poor but did its utmost and the bewildered musicians were even enthusiast. But following Kaim's behaviour, W. looked for another position.
Addy and W. went to the office in Berlin. He's finally found a job as third conductor and co-repetitor at the Stadtheater in Zurich. -They ask W. how much he wants per month, he says 80 to 100 M. - he is given 100 - he should have asked for 200 francs!
His current compositions: the final chorus for his Faust - marvelous - full of exquisite sensitivity - but the vocal parts are too difficult and the instrumentation is complicated, everything tends towards the mind: he revises his Festouverture that turned him into a sleepless wreck back in the Spring of 1904, but once again he puts it to one side.
Spring 1905 he finishes his marvelous and grandiose symphonic movement which will be performed in concert - in 1906 the symphony is completed. And in 1905, he starts a monumental Te Deum which has just now been performed, in 1906, in Tanneck. Now he is working very slowly, making continuous changes, always looking for more clarity of form. His music is intense and has an imposing sensitivity that is continually shifting, like a mountain torrent, never calm or wide. This music demands an audience that is really capable of appreciating its sensitivity - otherwise it remains impossible to understand. Unfortunately, he doesn't write anything anymore for the piano - he doesn't use his beautiful piano fantasies any longer.
Where does this sudden decision to enter the real world and become a conductor come from? Does this have anything to do with Miss Bertele who obviously wants him to marry her? They came twice to Tanneck together last summer, she seems very nice and kind - he also took her to Salzburg. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry. Yet, they seem to be inseparable.
None of his compositions have yet been published. That's why he still isn't a success: And he always wants to get everything note-perfect before he'll allow it to be played in public. Nothing's ever quite good enough for Willi. So many beautiful things hidden from everyone else's view.
He doesn't work long hours because he has to be careful of insomnia. He always gets up late because he stays awake at night and sleeps late in the morning. The ideal time for composing is just before noon. In the evening he avoids anything that might over-excite him.
April 07
Went to see W. in Zurich in October 06. How fresh he looked when he came out of the theater I never thought that he would bloom appearing in public; and he takes his tasks so very seriously. However, he's only the third conductor and therefore deals only with the current old fogies in the theater; he doesn't get to mix with the better circles in Zurich, and it's not in his nature to thrust himself forward. But he does find it hard to do something undignified in an undignified ambiance. Yet, he is under pressure the whole day long and has very little time for himself. His sleep continues to be a problem.
What a pity that he writes so little and that he expresses himself so poorly. These rich facets of his inner life are slowly disappearing from view. If at least he had finished and published his compositions and tried to keep also some of his minor works.
September 07
He spends the summer with us: he also works on his symphony in Tanneck - more revisions - sleeps badly, even worse than in Zurich. - He just doesn't seem able to forge personal relationships, be outgoing with others or finish his previous compositions; and there's no one around to push him to do so. In the Autumn he wanted to try once more for the Einjährigenprüfung, but failed. Indeed, he seems physically weak at the moment, it's been a while since he was strong like he used to be: he can't do the slightest physical task. Very sad for us all. Would a quick marriage be the answer? But he doesn't seem the slightest bit interested. He only wants to get better and sleep well again.
Adolf Furtwängler (1853-1907) died on October 9 1907 in Athens.
