Without the shadow of a doubt I owed to his leadership the necessary
courage to make a profound study of the works of the old school, for
they are unattractive at first. Berlioz berated all this music. He had
seen Gluck's works on the stage in his youth, but he could see nothing
in them that was not "superannuated and childish." With all respect to
Berlioz's memory, it deserved a kinder judgment than that. When one
reaches the depths of this music, although it may be at the price of
some effort, he is well repaid for his pains. There is real feeling,
grandeur and even something of the picturesque in these works--as much
as could be with the means at their disposal.

It is only right that we should pay tribute to Delsarte's memory. He
was a pioneer who, during his whole life, proclaimed the value of
immortal works, which the world despised. That is no slight merit.

CHAPTER XVII

SEGHERS

While Delsarte was preparing the way for the old French opera and above
all for Gluck's works, another pioneer of musical evolution was working
to form the taste of the Parisian public, but with an entirely different
power and another effect. Seghers was the man. He played a great role
and his memory should be honored.

As his name indicates, Seghers was a Belgian. He started life as a
violinist and was one of Baillot's pupils. His execution was masterly,
his tone admirable, and he had a musical intelligence of the first
order. He had every right to a first rank among _virtuosi_, but this
man, herculean in appearance and tenacious in his purposes, lost all his
power before an audience.

He had a dream of giving to lovers of music the last of Beethoven's
quartets, which were considered at the time both unplayable and
incomprehensible. In the end he planned a series of concerts at which,
despite my age--I was only fifteen--I was to be the regular pianist. He
planned to give in addition to these quartets, some of Bach's sonatas
and Reber's and Schumann's trios. I spoke of this plan to his
mother-in-law one day as she was peacefully embroidering at the window,
and told her how pleased I was at the thought of the concerts.

"Don't count on it too much," she told me. "He'll never give them."

When everything was ready, he invited some thirty people to listen to a
trial performance. It was wretched. All the depth of tone had gone from
his violin as well as the skill from his fingers.... The project was
abandoned.

It was