Interim : $b Pilgrimage, Volume 5 — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Interim : $b Pilgrimage, Volume 5
John Stuart Mill · en
Sitting down almost the moment Mr. Mendizabal brought him into the room
and playing _Wagner_. With many wrong notes and stumbling phrases, but
self-forgetfully, in the foreign way. Keeping bravely on, making the
shape come even in the most difficult parts. He was hearing the Queen's
Hall Orchestra all the time, and he knew that anyone who knew it could
hear it too. He was one of those people who stand in the arena and talk
about the music and know that there are piano scores and get them and
play them. It was amazing that there should be piano scores of Wagner.
Did he play because he wanted to remember the orchestra; without
thinking of the people who were listening. He did not know the Baileys
and their boarders. He could not imagine how extraordinary it was to
hear Wagner in the room, suddenly offered to the _Baileys_. They knew
something important was going on; sitting close round the piano
surprised and attentive, busily speculating, in scraps, hampered by the
need to appear to be listening. Afterwards they would talk to him
arching and laughing, Mr. Mendizabal's friend. Perhaps he would come and
play Wagner again; there would be music in the room undisturbed by their
forced attention. This was only a beginning.
At the end of the overture he sat quite still, making no movement of
turning towards the room. The group about the piano were taken by
surprise, waiting for him to turn. When they began making exclamations
his hands were on the piano again. The room was silenced by strange
little sentences of music. He played short fragments, unfamiliar things
with strange phrasing, difficult to trace, unmelodious, but haunted by
suggested melody; a curious flattened wandering abrupt intimate message
in their phrases; perhaps Russian or Brahms. Not Wagner writing down the
world in sound nor Beethoven speaking to one person. Other foreign
musicians, set apart, glancing, and listening to strange single things,
speaking in pain, just out of clear hearing, their speech unfinished.
Russian or Hungarian. Dvor-tchak. I will ask him. Perhaps he plays
Chopin.