More Than Meets The Eye
The music was hard, but the notes came out clear and cut into the silence of the hall. The strings vibrating in the hard iron frame of the piano wailed out their emotive tones, pushing the tears into the listeners' eyes. These first few notes, introducing the audience to the G minor concerto, laid out the plaintive melody and were silenced by the rumblings of the waking orchestra. The deep bassoons rumbled a melancholy and fierce chord, sparking the violins to add to the glorious sound. The music raced from instrument to instrument and grew louder, more frenzied and more complex. The sounds bellowed through the hall and the audience waited breathlessly for the notes to spill over into the coming climax. The pianist raised his hands to the keyboard, and as the music peaked, his hands danced onto the keyboard into a racing Scherzo. As the hour passed, the weaving melodies transformed into a beautiful Ballade before finally becoming the magnificent Tarantella. The frantic measures capitulated into a grand sweeping finale that ended with the powerful chords: boom-bada-boom. The applause echoed throughout the entire building and the seats clattered as the audience rose to its feet to celebrate the performance of the grand king of the concerto.
It was early October and the air was getting chilly. It was several days before the performance of the grand Concerto in G minor of Liszt, recently discovered among the archives of a professor of music at the University of Paris. The music was an autographed copy given by Franz Liszt to a Monsieur Dupert who had attended a concert of Liszt's in Vienna. The music had been uncovered after an auction of unclaimed Paris University memorabilia. Before the government could step in, a bookseller bought the precious music and had it examined. It turned out to be real, and had disappeared until it showed up again in the hands of this young pianist. The music world had not yet fully realized the impact of this treasurable find, until it was announced that Monsieur Isak Boissert would perform the Liszt Concerto in G minor, the Hungarian Romance.
Boissert had recently performed the Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 3 to critical acclaim at the Moscow Conservatory and at the Paris Lyceum. He was a Frenchman by birth and was extremely talented. He benefited by his connections among both the common people and the old aristocratic regime that still existed since the demise of the French Revolution. He was put through the Paris Conservatory and studied with many illustrious pianists until he had hit the jackpot with his Rachmaninoff performance. The newspapers and classical magazines had just started publishing the existence of the Hungarian Romance and his upcoming performance and many recognized young Boissert's face from the large photos in the periodicals. The people were stopping him all over to congratulate him and wish him luck. For now, he was just very cold. It was just too bad that he had forgotten his gloves and his hands shook violently as he tried to sign his name in people's autograph books.
One man was not happy. The government had rights on state treasures found within the country. The purchase or purchases of this copy of music was wrong, if not downright illegal. It fell under the wing of the Minister of the Arts. He wanted this music back. It was, after all, for the public that he wanted it back, and not for the private benefit of the government. He would get it back so the public at large could enjoy the music. He called on his deputies and entrusted them to hunt down the owners of the music and confront them with the law. The music must be seized, if need be.
The coldness of Boissert's hands was getting severe and biting deeply into his bones. He had turned away several autograph-hunters because his hands could not even hold the pen. He had a long way to walk back to his apartment, so he struggled on down the street. He did not want to trouble anyone so he rushed down the cold pavements of the Rue de Lafayette. It was then that he saw the hospital of the Sisters of the Blessed Mary convent at the end of the road. He stumbled into the warmth of the hospital, holding his almost useless hands toward the nun who was reading the paper behind the counter. He cut a very different figure to the picture that the nun had been looking at. She admitted him at once.
Deputy No. 1 walked into the offices of Chapin and Co. and asked for the manager of the auction house. After a brief meeting, Deputy No. 1 called Deputy No. 2 and directed him to the Depard booksellers in the Place de la Paix. Deputy No. 2 entered Depard's, closed the door and turned the Closed sign outward, and demanded the location of the Liszt concerto. Deputy No. 3 then headed to the La Chappelle managing association and inquired for Isak Boissert. He was not there, or anywhere close.
Boissert was receiving the best treatment in France at the convent hospital but his fingers might not be saved. The doctors assured him it would be all right, but the grave expressions they exuded as they examined him did not assure him of this fact. The last treatment would take place hours before his scheduled performance at the Paris Conservatory. Boissert was very worried.
The morning's Paris Match contained an article about the hospitalization of Isak Boissert, the concert pianist. The next page announced the presentation of the new Liszt Concerto at the Paris Conservatory by Isak Boissert. The Minister of the Arts reading this decided to set an ambush at the Paris Conservatory and right the illegal purchases of Boissert.
The doctors were once again assuring Boissert of their competency and that he would be all right, and that his concert would go on, as scheduled. Two hours later, Boissert exited the hospital dressed in his tuxedo and his hands wrapped in warm muslin cloth. The limousine drove through the slow Paris traffic into the Invalides and drove toward the Conservatory.
Outside the Conservatory hall, the ticket holders and the deputies of the Arts Ministry waited, both excited for the impending performances, both artistic and physical.
The limousine turned into the front parking lot of the Paris Conservatory and was met at both sides by screaming fans and the deputies. It was the deputies who won final control and escorted Monsieur Boissert out and presented him with the charges. He would have to return the music and all charges would be dropped. He would not be playing today. In response, the angry ticket holders surged toward Boissert and pushed the deputies away, placing Boissert alone. The deputies did not fight. With stately elegance and careful pomp, Boissert walked through the doorways and invited the crowd to enter.
Everyone had been seated and was waiting quietly. Boissert stood backstage, unusually nervous. The stage was dark except for the one spotlight on the nine-foot grand piano. The orchestra pit was silent in deference to Boissert. Then it came.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Paris Conservatory welcomes Isak Boissert and the Hungarian Romance of Franz Liszt."