Deborah Kiszely-Papp

"From My Memoirs"

[...]

Any person who knows only the Pozsony of today¹ could not possibly imagine what this city was like in the times before the previous world war. It could be best compared to Sopron or to the castle district of Buda. Today, where once the aura of an integrated Baroque city prevailed, one finds a noisy city mottled and defaced by six- and seven-storey skyscrapers.² The city whose population now numbers approximately 110,000 had, at the time when I lived my childhood years there, only 48,000 inhabitants. Some of these people were German-speaking and some were Hungarian-speaking. But even the German-speaking residents proudly proclaimed themselves to be Hungarians;³ they were proud of the important role Pozsony had played in Hungarian history, and they proudly called their city "die alte Krönungs- Stadt" [the old coronation city]. The street signs were in German and Hungarian, and the theatre was likewise bilingual in that for half of the season a German company performed, followed by a Hungarian company during the other half. The official language was of course Hungarian, and this applied to the schools as well.
In this bilingual but nonetheless emotionally integrated city I was born and raised. My father was a teacher of mathematics and physics at the Royal Catholic High School. I inherited my musical talent from him. He was an excellent cellist; his artistry far surpassed that of an average amateur, which is why he often played in benefit concerts. On one such occasion he performed with Ferencz Liszt.⁴
Once, when I was three years old, my father was practising a gavotte by Joh.[ann] Seb.[astian] Bach prior to one of these concerts. I was so captivated by the piece that my father was forced by my continual nagging to play it over and over again. Another time, when my father was in a playful mood, he placed the bow in my hand, and with it I proceeded to play the rhythm of the tune up and down across the strings while my father formed the notes with his left hand. This was the first manifestation of my musical talent. Even so, for the time being my formal music education was limited to Sundays, when my father would play chamber music with the best amateurs in Pozsony or occasionally with professional musicians while I sat in an armchair and listened.
Thus, from a very early age I had the privilege of hearing a lot of good music.
Finally, during a vacation in Breznóbánya when I was six years old, my father, perhaps merely for his own amusement, began teaching me piano, although he barely knew how to play himself. For me this was the utmost happiness. I learned playfully. Actually, my entire musical education during my years in my parents' home was really more like a game, because they didn't try to make a prodigy out of me, nor did anyone think seriously that I would ever really pursue a career in music. I played music frequently, but even later, it could not be said that I practised regularly, or that I learned my piano pieces to perform them for others. Thanks to this "playful" way of learning, I became an excellent sight-reader. Indeed, to the consternation of music teachers, I must admit that my technique was developed almost entirely through constant sight-reading. When on occasion I was asked to perform, I would often select a piece to sight-read on the spot, which of course I didn't tell anyone. Once, however, I paid the price for this rashness. István Thomán, who later became my teacher at the Music Academy, once visited us when he came to Pozsony on a concert tour. When he asked me to play something for him, I selected an étude by Heller in the key of B-flat major. Because the first measure of the piece began with an E-flat major chord, and I had not looked carefully at the key signature, I played A-flats instead of A's throughout the entire piece. When Thomán brought this error to my attention, I was terribly ashamed. To make matters worse, when Thomán sat down to the piano my father remarked sternly after hearing a brilliantly played passage, "Now do you see the importance of scales?" At this I burst inconsolably into tears, and such was my distress that they were hardly able to calm me. This episode took place when I was about ten years old.
My father also began teaching me the violin at the age of seven. But I was not particularly attracted to this instrument, first because of the unpleasant, out-of-tune whining sounds that unavoidably result when initially learning to play the violin, and secondly, because a single-voiced instrument was never able to satisfy my interest in counterpoint. Nevertheless, I was able to learn the instrument well enough that later I could play second violin or viola in orchestras and chamber ensembles.
When I was eight years old I asked the Baby Jesus for music paper for Christmas, on which I started to scribble. Thus came into being my first composition: seven little pieces for violin and piano, which I played with my father to his great amusement. I shall now present the most comprehensible of the pieces:

Music⁵
(No. 3, B major)⁶

After this first experiment others followed. I composed little piano pieces with all kinds of titles: mazurka, tarantella, bagatelle, etc.
My parents also took me to concerts. I still remember well a concert by Rubinstein that I heard when I was seven years old.⁷
But it was not Rubinstein's programme, of which only Mozart's "Rondo in A minor" remains vaguely in my memory, and it was not his playing that made an unforgettable impression on me, but it was the face and profile of Ferencz Liszt. I had heard so much about Liszt as a child that the very mention of his name affected me like magic. Now I could see him! The concert was in the County Centre Hall. I was standing in the back between the wall and the last row, opposite the stage on which Rubinstein played. And to the left of the stage, next to the wall underneath two candelabras, stood Ferencz Liszt between two gentlemen. The tall figure of Liszt in his abbey's soutane and his markedly strong profile were clearly visible to the whole audience. I cannot remember whether he stood for the entire concert or only for part of it, but the entire scene lives so vividly before my eyes today that I could draw it if I knew how to draw.
Another experience I recall from around this time was a concert by the Meiningen Court Orchestra under the direction of [Hans von] Bülow. This concert also took place in the County Centre Hall, but all I can remember is that they played the Grand Fugue from Beethoven's string quartet [Op. 133] with a complete string orchestra.
Yet, since I was really only a child, I loved to play with my sister, who was one and a half years younger than me, and her dolls. With these dolls we created our own make-believe family life which could be wonderful indeed, with its continual development and constant variety. This kind of doll-playing stopped after I began attending high school. But my favourite plaything always remained the toy train, although unfortunately I never had the kind of beautiful trains that children of today play with. Even now I still like trains, having spent so much of my life travelling on them. Anyway, my sister and I got along well together, and I think that we were good children, even if we were occasionally a little naughty. At those times my quick-handed mother would immediately punish us. Even today I am grateful to her for those well-deserved slaps, but especially because after they were administered the offence was forever forgotten, and she never so much as mentioned it again to either my father or to us, in contrast to many modern parents who launch into lengthy moral explanations rather than give an immediate punishment, but then days and even weeks later are still shaming their children thus: "And remember what you did then, you useless brat!"
When I reached the age of eight a major change took place in my education. My father realized that he could no longer teach me the piano, and he entrusted my development to Ágost Forstner,⁸ Pozsony's cathedral organist. I was very fond of the dear old phlegmatic Forstner because he never tortured me with such things as the correct hand position and the like, with which piano teachers often ruin their students' enjoyment of music, but rather he allowed me to play and develop naturally. Of course a bit of scale-playing was necessary. I also had to play études, but not too many. Nevertheless, aside from assigning lessons according to a progressive curriculum, his teaching was negative [unobtrusive] in the sense that-and I consider this even today to be the correct approach-he pointed out my mistakes, but he never said or showed that something had to be done thus. He never demonstrated, and I never even heard him play the piano, but only the organ in the cathedral.⁹ Simultaneously with the onset of piano lessons, a change also took place in my schooling. Up until this time my mother had taught me the basic subjects, but now they enrolled me in a private school, where we were barely a dozen students in all four elementary grades under the guidance of a young teacher. The school must have been very good, for a year later I was able to pass the entrance examination into the high school, which I was then able to complete at the age of sixteen.
With high school the beautiful, carefree years of play came to an end. They were replaced by serious duties. And although my studies caused me no great difficulties, I couldn't take things too lightly because my father, as a teacher at the school, was immediately informed by his colleagues if I was not prepared in class, for-more often than not-I had not done my homework. They checked on me at home as well. My mother often passed through the children's room, and sometimes she would specifically come in to make sure that I was studying, so that she could tell my father in the evening that I had been a good boy. At those times I would mumble something with my head bent over the books, but under the books there was often music paper just waiting for me to fill it up with scribbling. Only thus was it possible for me to compose during my eight high school years all of the music that's sitting in this package before me. In addition to numerous smaller piano pieces and songs,¹⁰ it contains two sonatas for piano and cello (dedicated to my father),¹¹ three complete string quartets and one that is half finished,¹² one piano quartet,¹³ [one] string sextet,¹⁴ one movement of a string quintet,¹⁵ two sonatas for piano,¹⁶ one sonata movement,¹⁷ two movements of a piano quintet,¹⁸ one overture for full orchestra,¹⁹ a mass and other sacred compositions,²⁰ and even an unfinished opera.²¹
Every year the students of the high school organized an evening of recitations and music performances honouring the institute's director²² on the eve of his name day. Although these performances were not intended for the public, there was always a good-sized audience present. Naturally I, too, was expected to perform. The first such occasion took place when, as a nine-year-old, first-year high school student, I played the piano part of Mozart's Piano Quartet in G minor [K. 478]. For another such occasion, as a sixth-year student I composed "Üdvözlő dal" [Song of Greeting] to my classmate Marcell Jankovich's text, which was performed by the school's choir and orchestra under the direction of my father.²³ Marcell Jankovich, the famous writer and politician, was an eighth-year student at the time.²⁴

¹ The words "but today a bleeding, painful wound" were crossed out in the draft.

² The phrase "of which the majority of the population now consists of foreigners who have never had any association with the city" was crossed out in the draft.

³ The text "because the city had never belonged to any other country than Hungary. Even the Germanspeaking residents were proud to be Hungarian;" was crossed out in the draft. The figures mentioned by Dohnányi are correct. Dohnányi was born in 1877. According to the census of 1881, the ethnic character of the city was predominantly German, at a time when Hungarian was increasingly used by the more educated. By 1910, reflecting the willingness of the German population to Magyarize themselves, 42 per cent of the population of the city called themselves German, 40 per cent Hungarian and 15 per cent Slovak.

⁴ On 18 April 1874 Liszt played with Frigyes Dohnányi in a concert in the main hall of the Pozsony Vigadó, organized for the benefit of the Sacred Music Society. Countess Mária Rossi also performed on this occasion: in addition to two songs by Liszt, she sang Rossini's "La promessa" and Braga's "Serenade" accompanied by Liszt at the piano, and joined in the latter number by Frigyes Dohnányi on the cello. See also: Kumlik, Dr. Emil: Dohnányi Frigyes, 1843-1909. Egy magyar gyorsíró élete és munkássága [Frigyes Dohnányi, 1843-1909. The Life and Work of a Hungarian Stenographer]. Budapest: A gyorsírási ügyek m. kir. kormánybiztossága [Hungarian Royal Commission for Stenographic Affairs] 1937, 18-20.; Legány, Dezső: Liszt Ferenc Magyarországon, 1874-1886 [Liszt in Hungary, 1874-1886]. Budapest: Zeneműkiadó 1986, 23-24, 252-253. According to the latter source the date was April 19th. My thanks to Mária Eckhardt for her assistance with information on Liszt.

⁵ Dohnányi's notes pertaining to timings appear here in the draft on p. 5: "idáig 8 p, kb. fél perc" (No. 3, H-dúr) [up to here 8 min[utes]; [the piece] is about a half-minute long (No. 3, B major)]. Instead of the seven little pieces for violin and piano mentioned by Dohnányi, the autograph manuscript in the British Library (Add. MS. 50791, ff. 1-3v) contains only six untitled, undated pieces which appear to be the set referred to (see also the quote from Dohnányi's 5 February 1896 letter to his sister in fn. 8). Another account asserts that a little chorale entitled "Gebet" [Prayer] was Dohnányi's first composition, written at the age of six (Vázsonyi, Bálint: Dohnányi Ernő. Budapest: Zeneműkiadó, 1971, 15-16; Budapest: Nap Kiadó, 2nd ed. 2002, 21-22), although Vázsonyi's familiarity with this currently published source is proven by the fact that he quoted from it (p. 15; 2nd ed. p. 21). Further complicating the establishment of a clear chronology of Dohnányi's juvenilia is a note by the composer stating "legkorábbi" [earliest] on the first folio of a group of manuscripts in the British Library, Add. MS. 50790, containing piano and organ pieces, and another on the second folio: "legkorábbi szerzemények (7-8)" [earliest compositions, age 7-8]. This particular group of manuscripts begins with two short studies for piano.

⁶ BL Add. MS 50791, f. 2r; the little piece is an 18-bar, two-part form. It is likely that Dohnányi played both parts of this selection alone on the piano, because at this point he had still not made reference to his colleagues who join him later in the broadcast.

⁷ Liszt attended Anton Rubinstein's benefit concert for a Hummel memorial on 13 April 1885 in the main hall of the County Center in Pozsony. Frigyes Dohnányi also played the cello in the closing piece, Hummel's Septett.

⁸ All other sources list Károly Forstner as Dohnányi's first teacher: "Forstner Károly", Kumlik, Dr. Emil, op. cit., 79; "Karl Forstner", Dohnányi Ernő: Message to Posterity (English translation by Ilona Dohnányi; (Jacksonville: The H. & B. Drew Co., 1960) 6; "Károly Forstner", Ilona von Dohnányi: Ernst von Dohnányi: A Song of Life (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002) 7; "Forstner Károly", Vázsonyi, Bálint: Dohnányi Ernő (Budapest: Zeneműkiadó, 1971) 17; "Karl Forstner", Elza Galafrés: Lives, Loves, Losses (Vancouver: Versatile, 1973) 102, etc. Throughout this radio address Dohnányi consistently refers to his teacher as "my master".

⁹ The Cathedral of Saint Martin. In both sources originally "in the cathedral".

¹⁰ See Kiszely-Papp: Ernő Dohnányi, pp. 28-30.

¹¹ The titles of Dohnányi's unpublished works referred to below are given according to the composer's own catalogue of his juvenilia dated 1888-1896 (BL Add. MS 50808) if the piece is listed therein, and otherwise according to the title that appears on the autograph manuscript (the latter cases indicated with *): I. Sonate (G-dur) für Violoncello u. Pianoforte (1888), autograph MS: BL Add. MS 50792, ff. 1, title page, and 3-12v; II. Grand Sonate (C dur) für Piano und Violoncello (1889), aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50792, ff. 14-41v. Although his early catalogue is written in German, the use of mixed languages is characteristic of Dohnányi's childhood writing.

¹² I. Quartett (D dur) für 2 Violinen, Viola, u. Cello (1889), aut. MS: BL Add. MS. 50792, ff. 42-52; II. Grand Quartett. für 2 Violinen, Viola u. Cello (G moll) (1890), aut. MS: BL Add. MS. 50792, ff. 54-80v; III. Quartett für 2 Violinen, Viola u. Violoncello (A moll) (28 March-5 April 1893), aut. MS: BL Add. MS. 50794, ff. 18-31v; *Quatuor. Ernest de Dohnányi 1893 [D minor], aut. MS: BL Add. MS. 50794, ff. 34-39v. This last manuscript contains three movements, of which the third movement, "Tempo di Menuetto" was signed by the composer and dated 3 October 1894. Only this movement was listed by Dohnányi in his juvenile catalogue, under the year 1894: Menuetto für Streichquartett. D moll (see BL Add. MS 50808, f. 5v). The fair copy of this single movement, signed and dated 4 October 1894, is in the National Széchényi Library Music Division (H-Bn Ms. mus. 13.587), where it was originally kept in a box of miscellaneous sketches (Ms. mus. 3.275).

¹³ I. Quartett (Fis moll) für Piano, Violine, Viola, u. Cello (1891, the fourth and last movement 1893), aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50793, which contains two separate manuscripts: a draft and the fair copy, the latter of which is the copy that was used for the 11 March 1894 world premiere in Vienna.

¹⁴ Sextett für 2 Violinen, 2 Violen, u. 2 Violoncellen (B dur) (1893), aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50794, ff. 40-55v. This work was revised several times by the composer. The earliest autograph manuscript from 1896, entitled Streich Sextett, is located in the American Branch of the Dohnányi Archives, Florida State University (FSU) Warren D. Allen Music Library (MS 81). This is the version that won an honourable mention in the Millenium Royal Composition Competition that same year. Dohnányi had to submit his Streich Sextett by a deadline to be eligible for that event, but in several letters he indicated to his sister that he was still not satisfied with the work and that it required further revision. A later version of the piece was premiered in Budapest on 1 April 1898, but even as late as 1899 Dohnányi continued to complain to his sister that he was intensely busy with work on the Sextett. Presumably it was this further revised version that was performed on 2 February 1900 in Pozsony by the expanded Fitzner String Quartet, but any later manuscript has yet to be found.

¹⁵ *Quintett pour 2 Violon, 2 Alto et Violoncello (G Major). aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50791, ff. 25-29. The manuscript contains two sketchily written movements. According to Imre Podhradszky's catalogue, the work dates from 1889. Podhradszky, Imre: "The Works of Ernő Dohnányi." Studia Musicologica VI, 1964, p. 359.

¹⁶ Both sonatas date from 1890: I. Sonate. für Piano (A dur). aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50790, ff. 22-26r. The fourth and final movement is unfinished; II. Sonate (G moll). für Pianoforte. aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50790, ff. 29-33r.

¹⁷ *Sonate (B-flat Major). aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50790, ff. 36-37v. One movement in sonata-allegro form, dating from 1890 (Podhradszky, op. cit.).

¹⁸ *Quintett for two violins, viola, violoncello, and piano, aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50791, ff. 9-24v. Two movements, the first of which-when compared with other Dohnányi compositions from around the same time period-is exceedingly lengthy. The second movement, labelled "Scherzo", is unfinished. Dates from 1890 (Podhradszky, op. cit.).

¹⁹ Ouverture in B dur für grosses Orchester (June-July, 1892). aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50794, ff. 1-17.

²⁰ From Dohnányi's juvenile sacred compositions, the following works were performed in Pozsony: Ave Maria (29 June 1891); Missa solemnis in C (8 June 1892); O salutaris hostia and Ave verum corpus (29 July 1893); and Veni Sancte Spiritus (4 September 1893). Dohnányi wrote details of the instrumentation and performance history of these works in his own catalogue, and particularly about the Missa solemnis in C (BL Add. MS 50808, ff. 2-5). His other juvenile sacred compositions include: Pater noster (5-6 October 1892) and *Kyrie (A Major, 1893). Autograph manuscripts for all of the above mentioned sacred works can be found under BL Add. MS 50796.

²¹ *"Die Bergknappen. Romantische Oper in zwei Abtheilungen. von Ernst von Dohnányi. Text von Theodor Körner. 1891. Klavierauszug" [The Miners. Romantic opera in two parts by E. v. D. Text by Theodor Körner. 1891 Piano-vocal score]. aut. MS: BL Add. MS 50795, ff. 2-7r. The unfinished manuscript contains only the overture and the beginning of the first act.

²² Imre Pirchala was the Royal Catholic High School's director during Dohnányi's years as a student there (1886-94), but according to the local contemporary press, the school also celebrated the name day of the former director, Károly Wiedermann, with a concert. See the first entry: "Dohnányi fellépése a pozsonyi főgimnázium ünnepen, 1887. jan. 28." [Dohnányi's performance at the Main High School of Pozsony's celebration concert, 28 January 1887] in: Gombos, László-György Horváth: "Dohnányi Ernő művészi tevékenységének sajtórecepciója. I. rész: A pályakezdő évek: 1887. január-1898. április" [Press Reception of Dohnányi's Career. Part One: The Earliest Years: January, 1887-April, 1898]. Dohnányi Évkönyv 2003, pp. 141-143.

²³ Dohnányi's "Üdvözlő dal" for choir, string orchestra, piano and accordian in D Major was premiered on 4 November 1891 at a school concert. The location of the autograph manuscript is unknown.

²⁴ Marcell Jankovich (1874-1949) author, politician, alpinist. His works include: Úttalan utakon [On Unmarked Roads] (Pozsony, 1903); Sasfészek [Eagle's Nest] (1906); Az Alpesek [The Alps] (1911); Húsz esztendő Pozsonyban [Twenty Years in Pozsony] (1939); and Egy évszázad legendái [Legends of a Century] (1940). Years later he performed in public again with Dohnányi when, on 3 April 1943 in Kaposvár, the two men participated in a "Felvidéki est" [Upper Hungary Evening], on which Dohnányi played his Op. 21 Sonata in C-sharp minor for violin and piano with violinist Ede Zathureczky, and Jankovich, then a government commissioner, gave a lecture entitled "Pozsonyi emlékek" [Memories of Pozsony]. BL Add. MS 50807A, f. 129.

 

Deborah Kiszely-Papp
a pianist, is currently senior researcher at the Ernő Dohnányi Archives, where she served as founding director for its first three years, establishing the journal Dohnányi Évkönyv (Dohnányi Yearbook). She is the author of numerous English and Hungarian publications on Ernst von Dohnányi.