FREDERIC CHOPIN
HIS LIFE, LETTERS, AND WORKS
BY
MORITZ KARASOWSKI.
With Portrait.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY
EMILY HILL.
“Chopin is and remains the boldest and proudest poetic spirit of the age.”—
Robert Schumann
IN TWO VOLUMES.—VOL. II.
LONDON:
WILLIAM REEVES, 185, FLEET STREET,
Publisher of Musical Works.
1879.
G. HILL, STEAM PRINTER,
WESTMINSTER BRIDGE ROAD,
LONDON.
CONTENTS.
PAGE. Preface CHAPTER I.Nicholas Chopinʼs Family and Friends. Zywny. Elsner.
1. CHAPTER II.Fredericʼs Childhood. His First Appearance in Public. Polish National Songs.
17. CHAPTER III.Chopinʼs Early Manhood. His First Journey. His Relations with Prince Anton Radziwill
33. CHAPTER IV.The Journey to Berlin. Chopinʼs Letters. An Incident of the Return to Warsaw
40. CHAPTER V.Journey to Vienna, Prague, Teplitz, Dresden. Chopinʼs Performance at two Concerts in Vienna
59. CHAPTER VI.Influence of the Last Journey on Chopin. Letters to Titus Woyciechowski. Farewell Concert in Warsaw. Chopin leaves his Native City
87. CHAPTER VII.The Classic and Romantic Elements in Polish Literature. Influence of the Romantic School on Chopin. His First Compositions
123. CHAPTER VIII.German and Italian Music in the years 1827—1831. Johann Matuszynski
140. CHAPTER IX.Chopinʼs Stay in Breslau, Dresden, Prague, and Vienna
152. CHAPTER X.The Insurrection in Warsaw and its disastrous effect on Chopinʼs sojourn in Vienna
170. CHAPTER XI.Further sojourn in Vienna. The journey to Munich.
193. CHAPTER XII.Destruction of Chopinʼs letters and other mementos in Warsaw. Stay in Munich. Departure for Paris.
212. CHAPTER XIII.Stay in Paris. Chopin proposes to receive instruction from Kalkbrenner. Correspondence about this with Elsner. Letter to Titus Woyciechowski. Chopinʼs desire to go to America not realized. He resolves to return to Warsaw. Soirée at Rothschildʼs
219. CHAPTER XIV.Improvement of Chopinʼs position in Paris. Elsnerʼs letter. Moschelesʼs and Fieldʼs opinions of Chopin. Trip to Aix-la-Chapelle, Carlsbad, Marienbad, Dresden, and Leipsic. Visit to Mendelssohn and Schumann
241. CHAPTER XV.Chopinʼs Acquaintance with George Sand. His life among his friends. Winter sojourn in the Island of Majorca (1838-1839.)
259. CHAPTER XVI.Return to Paris. Moscheles and Liszt. Chopin as a Pianoforte Teacher
274. CHAPTER XVII.Domestic Sorrows. Two Letters of George Sand. Breach with George Sand. Journey to England. Return to Paris. Chopinʼs illness and death
295. CHAPTER XVIII.Chopin as a Man
323. CHAPTER XIX.Chopin as a Composer
334. Appendix 350.CHAPTER XI.
FURTHER SOJOURN IN VIENNA. THE JOURNEY TO MUNICH.
Frederic Chopin to Elsner.
Vienna, January 16th, 1831.
Dear Monsieur Elsner,
I much regret that your kindness, of which I have had so many proofs during my journey, has once more made me feel ashamed of myself, and that you have anticipated me with a letter.
I should have felt it my duty to write to you immediately on my arrival, but I put off doing so from day to day, feeling almost certain that my parents would not delay sending
I wanted also to wait till I could tell you something definite about myself; but since the day on which I heard of the terrible events in the fatherland, I have had but one thought—anxiety and yearning about my country and my dear ones.
Herr Malfatti has been vainly endeavouring to persuade me that an artist is, or ought to be, a cosmopolitan. Supposing this to be so, although I was an artist in the cradle, I am, as a man, a Pole, and liable to serve as a soldier, so I hope that you will not blame me for not having thought seriously as yet about arranging for a concert.
Obstacles surround me on all sides; not only has a succession of the most miserable concerts quite ruined good music, and rendered the public distrustful, but the recent affairs in Poland have a prejudicial effect on my position.
I think, however—and Würfel fully approves my intention—of giving my first concert during the Carnival. The worthy Würfel is a constant sufferer. I often see him, and find that he has a pleasant recollection of you.
I should feel little satisfied with my stay here but for the interesting acquaintances I have made among the first talent in the place, such names as Slawick, Merk, Bocklet, &c. The opera is good, and the Viennese are enchanted with Wildt and Fräulein Heinefetter; but it is a pity that Duport brings out so few new operas, and is more careful of his pocket than of art.
Abbé Stadler1 is loud in his complaints, and says that Vienna is not what it used to be. He is publishing his Psalms at Mechettiʼs; I saw the work in manuscript and admired it.
As to your quartet, Joseph Czerny promised faithfully that it should be ready on St. Josephʼs day. He assured me that up till now it had been impossible for him to put it in hand, as he is just bringing out Schubertʼs works, many of which are still in the press. So I am afraid that yours will be delayed.
As I observed, Czerny is not one of the wealthiest publishers in this city, and cannot so easily take the risk of printing a work that is not performed either at “Sperlʼs” or at the “Römische Kaiser.”
DEGENERATION OF PUBLIC TASTE. Waltzes are here called “works” and Lanner and Strauss, who play first violin at the performances of these dances, “capellmeister” (bandmasters.)
I do not mean to say that this is the universal way of speaking, for there are many who ridicule it; however, scarcely anything but Waltzes are printed. It seems to me that Mechetti is of an enterprising turn of mind, and that he will be more likely to take your Masses, for he intends to publish the scores of the famous church composers. I spoke about those glorious Masses of yours to Mechettiʼs book-keeper—an impressible and enlightened Saxon—he seemed to think something of them, and, according to what I hear, he does quite as he likes in the business. I am invited out to dinner to-day to meet Mechetti. I shall talk the matter over seriously with him, and will write to you about it soon. Haslinger is now publishing Hummelʼs last Mass, for he lives only for and by Hummel; but it is said that these latest compositions do not sell well; and Haslinger, who gave him a large honorarium for them, puts aside all manuscripts now, and only prints Straussʼs compositions.
Yesterday I was with Nidecki, at Steinkellerʼs, who has written a libretto for Nidecki. He hopes for great things from this opera, in which the famous comedian, Schuster, is to appear. In this case, Nidecki may make a name for himself. I hope that this news will please you.
You ask, dear Mons. Elsner, why Nidecki studied my second concerto? He did so solely by his own wish. Knowing that he would have to play in public before his departure from Vienna, and having nothing suitable of his own, except the beautiful variations, he asked for my manuscripts. Meanwhile things have greatly changed; he no longer appears as a pianoforte virtuoso, but as an orchestral composer. He will be sure to tell you of it himself. I shall take care that his overture is performed at my concert. You will be proud of us yet; at any rate you shall not be ashamed of us. The pianist, Aloys Schmitt, has been cut up by the critics, although he is past forty, and has been composing for eighteen years.
Kindest remembrances to all the collegians, and to your own circle. For yourself, I beg you to receive the assurance of the unbounded respect with which I always remain,
Your grateful and faithful pupil,
FREDERIC CHOPIN.
Vienna, May 14th, 1831.
My beloved Parents and Sisters,
I have to go on short commons this week, as regards letters, but I console myself with the thought that I shall hear from you again next week, and wait patiently, trusting that you are as well in the country as you were in town. As to myself, I am in excellent spirits, and feel that good health is the best comforter in misfortune.
MALFATTI. Perhaps it is Malfattiʼs soups which have given me such strength that I really feel better than ever. If so it is a two-fold regret to me that Malfatti and his family are gone into the country. You cannot imagine what a beautiful villa he lives in; I was there a week ago with Hummel. Having taken us over his house, he showed us his garden, and when we were at the top of the hill we had such a splendid view that we did not want to come down again. Malfatti has the honour of a visit from the court every year, and I should not wonder if the Duchess of Anhalt-Cöthen, who is a neighbour of his, envies him his garden.
On one side you see Vienna lying at your feet, and looking as if Schönbrunn were joined to it; on the other, high hills picturesquely dotted with convents and villages. This romantic panorama makes you quite oblivious of the nearness of the noisy, bustling Kaiserstadt.
Yesterday I was at the Imperial library with Handler.2 Do you know this is my first inspection of what is, perhaps, the richest collection of musical manuscripts in the world? I can scarcely imagine that the library in Bologna can be larger and more systematically arranged than this one.
Now, my dearest ones, picture to yourselves my astonishment at beholding among the new manuscripts a book entitled “Chopin.”
It was a pretty large volume, elegantly bound; I thought to myself, I have never heard of any other musician named Chopin, but there was a certain Champin, and perhaps there has been a mistake in the spelling. I took out the manuscript and saw my own handwriting. Haslinger had sent the original of my variations to the library. This is an absurdity worth remembering.
FIREWORKS AND RAIN. Last Sunday there was to have been a grand display of fireworks, but the rain spoilt it. It is a remarkable fact that it almost always rains here when they are going to have fireworks. This reminds me of the following story: “A gentleman had a handsome bronze-coloured coat, but whenever wore it, it rained; so he went to his tailor to ask him the reason. The tailor was very much astonished, shook his head, and asked the gentleman to leave the coat with him for a day
May God continue to fight for us!
Your FREDERIC.
Vienna, May 28th 1831.
I have just returned from the post, but once more there is no letter for me! I received one on Wednesday from Madame Jarocka, with a postscript from dear Papa, which though very short was very precious to me. It told me, at least, that you were all well. As to Marcel and Johann, I beg that they will not write to me at all, if they are so stingy, that in spite of my request they can only send a word or two. I am so angry that I feel as if I could send back their letters without opening them. Of course they will make the old excuse of want of time! I am the only one who has time to write so fully every week. But how quickly this precious time passes. It is already the end of May, and I am still in Vienna, and probably shall be through June, for Kumelski3 has been ill and must lay by again.
I can see already that this letter will be a very wearisome one, but you have no reason to fear that this is a sign of indisposition. On the contrary, I am quite well and amusing myself capitally. To-day I was playing from early in the morning till two in the afternoon, when I went out to dine and met the worthy Kandler, who kindly offered to give me letters to Cherubini and Paër.
I shall visit my invalid in the evening and go to the theatre, where there is to be a concert at which the violinist Herz is to perform. He is an Israelite, and made his débût at Fräulein Henriette Sonntagʼs concert in Warsaw, when he was almost hissed off the stage. The pianist, Döhler, is also to play some of Czernyʼs compositions, and in conclusion Herz will give his own variations on Polish airs. Poor Polish motives, you little think how they will over-lard you with “Majufes” (Jewish melodies), giving you the title of “Polish music” to attract the public.
POLISH MUSIC AND ITS IMITATIONS. If you are honest enough to distinguish between real Polish music and these imitations of it, and to assign a higher position to the former, you are thought crazy, more especially as Czerny, who is the oracle of Vienna, has not, as yet, in the manufacture of his musical tit-bits, included any variations on a Polish theme.
Yesterday afternoon I went with Thalberg to the Evangelical church, where Hesse, a young organist from Breslau, was to perform before the most select of Viennese audiences. The élite of the musical world were present: Stadler, Kiesewetter, Mosel, Seyfried, and Gyrowitz. Hesse has talent, and understands the management of the organ; he left an album with me, but I donʼt feel as if I had originality enough to write anything in it.
On Wednesday I was at Beperʼs with Slawick till 2 oʼclock in the morning. He is one of the artists here with whom I am really on friendly and confidential terms. He plays like a second Paganini, whom, in time, he gives promise of surpassing. I should not think so, had I not already heard him several times. I am very sorry that Titus has not made Slawickʼs acquaintance, for he bewitches his hearers, and moves them to tears; he even made Tiger weep; Prince G. and Jskr. were much affected by his playing.
How are things going on with you? I am always dreaming of you. Has not the bloodshed ceased yet? I know what your answer will be: “Patience.” I constantly console myself with the same thought.
On Thursday there was a soirée at Fuchsʼs, when Limmer, one of the best artists here, introduced some of his own compositions for four violoncellos. Merk, as usual, made them more beautiful than they really were by his playing, which is so full of soul. We stayed there till 12 oʼclock, for Merk enjoyed playing his Variations with me. He told me so himself, and it is always a great pleasure for me to play with him. I think we suit each other very well.4 He is the only violoncellist I really respect.
I am curious to know how I shall like Norblin;5 please do not forget the letter to him.
Vienna, June 25th, 1831.
PASSPORT DIFFICULTIES.I am quite well, and that is all that I have to be happy about, for my departure seems as far off as ever. I have never been in such a state before. You know how undecided I am, and then obstacles meet me at every step. I am promised a passport every day, and I run from Herod to Pontius Pilate simply to get back what I gave the police to take care of. I received a delightful piece of news to-day, that my passport had been mislaid somewhere and could not be found, so I must try to procure a new one. It is strange that every possible misfortune happens just now to us poor Poles. Although I am quite ready to start, I cannot.
I have followed Herr Beyers advice and had my passport viséd for England, although I am only going to Paris. Malfatti will give me a letter of introduction to his friend, Paër; Kandler has already mentioned me in the “Leipziger Musikzeitung.”
I was not home until midnight yesterday, for it was St. Johnʼs Day, and Malfattiʼs birthday. Mechetti wished to give him a surprise, and had engaged Mlles. Emmering and Lutzer, and Messrs. Wildt, Cicimara, and your Frederic to give a musical performance in his honour. This almost deserved to be described as perfect (“parfait.”) I never heard the Quartet from “Moses” given better; although Fräulein Gladkowska sang “Oh quante lacrime” with far more feeling at my farewell concert at Warsaw. Wildt was in excellent voice, and I acted as quasi conductor.6
A considerable crowd was on the terrace of our house, listening to the concert. The moon shone marvellously, the fountains rose like columns of pearls, the air was filled with the perfume of the orange grove; in short, it was an enchanting night, the surroundings glorious!
I will now describe the room in which we performed. Windows, reaching
The day before yesterday we were on the Kahlen and Leopoldsberg with Kumelski; and Czapek, who visits me every day and gives me most substantial proofs of his friendship; he offered to lend me money for travelling, if I wanted it. It was a magnificent day, and I never took a more beautiful walk. From the Leopoldsberg you see the whole of Vienna, Agram, Aspern, Pressburg, and even Kloster-Neuburg, the castle in which Richard Cœur de Lion was for some time imprisoned. We had a view also of all the upper part of the Danube. After breakfast we went to the Kahlenberg, where King John Sobieski pitched his camp and sent up the rockets which were to announce to Count Starhemberg, Commandant of Vienna, the approach of the Polish army. There, too, is the monastery of the Kamedules, where, before the attack of the Turks, the King knighted his son Jacob, and himself officiated in the Mass. I have gathered a leaf for Isabella from the spot which is now covered with vegetation.
AN “EASTER-KING.” From thence we went, in the evening, to the beautiful valley of Krappenwald, where we saw a ridiculous boyish frolic, a number of urchins had covered themselves, from head to foot, with leaves, and, looking like walking-bushes, crawled from inn to inn. A boy, covered with leaves, his head adorned with branches, is called “Easter-king.” This is a customary jest at Easter-tide.
A few days ago I was at a soirée at Aloys Fuchsʼs.8 He showed me his rich collection of autograph works (circa 400.) My Rondo9 for two pianos was among them. Some of the company present were desirous of becoming personally acquainted with me. Fuchs gave me a specimen of Beethovenʼs handwriting.
Your last letter gave me great pleasure, for I saw the handwriting of all my nearest and dearest ones on one piece of paper. Let me kiss your hands and feet, which are more charming than any to be found in Vienna.
Vienna, Saturday, July 1831.
I saw from your last letter, my dearests, that you have already learnt to bear misfortune with fortitude. You may be assured that neither am I so readily cast down. Hope, oh, sweet perennial hope!
THE CHOLERA.I have got my passport at last, but have given up the idea of starting on Monday. We shall go to Salzburg on Monday and from there to Münich. I asked for my passport to be viséd for London; and the police did it at once; but it was kept two days at the Russian Embassy, and was sent back with permission to travel to Münich, not to London. It is all the same to me, if Herr Maison the French Ambassador will sign it. To these troubles another has now been added. A certificate of health is necessary for crossing the Bavarian frontier, on account of the cholera. We ran about for half a day with Kumelski, but got the pass in the afternoon.
We had the pleasure of being at least in good company during our peregrinations, for Count Alexander Fredro,10 whom we recognized from his Polish appearance, his refined manner of speaking, and his passport, was with us seeking a similar pass for his servant.
The news to-day is that the town of Wilna is taken. It is to be hoped this is not true.
Everyone is terribly afraid of the cholera, and the precautions taken are quite ridiculous. Printed prayers are sold, supplicating God and all the saints to stop the cholera. Nobody ventures to eat fruit, and most people quit the city.
I leave a Polonaise for the Violoncello with Mechetti.
Louise writes that Herr Elsner is very pleased with the review; I am anxious to hear what he will say about the others, as he was my teacher of composition. I want nothing but more life and spirit. I often feel low-spirited, but sometimes as cheerful as at home. When I feel melancholy I go to Madame Schaschekʼs, where I generally meet several amiable young Polish ladies who always cheer me up with their kind and hopeful words, so that I begin to mimic the generals here. This is my last new trick; those who have seen it are ready to die with laughter. But there are days, alas! when people do not get two words out of me; then I generally spend thirty kreuzers in going to Hitzing, or somewhere else in the neighbourhood of Vienna (for recreation) to divert my mind. Zacharkiewicz, of Warsaw, was with me, and when his wife saw me at Schaschekʼs their astonishment knew no bounds at my looking such a proper fellow. I have only left my whiskers on the right cheek, and they grow very well; there is no occasion to have them on the left, as you always sit with your right to the public.
SLEDGING. The good Würfel was with me the day before yesterday; Czapek, Kumelski, and several others also came, and we went together to St. Veit, a pretty place, which is more than I can say of Tivoli, where there is a kind of Caroussel, or rather a rail with sledges, called a “Rutsch.” It is a childish amusement, but a crowd of grown persons let themselves roll down the hill in these sledges without the least object in going. At first I did not at all care about trying; but as we were eight of us and all good friends, we began to dare each other to go down first. It was very foolish, but we all laughed heartily. I went heart and soul into the fun till it occurred to me that strong healthy men might find some better employment at a time like the present when there is such a universal need for protection and defence. Confound our frivolity.
A little while ago Rossiniʼs “Siege of Corinth” was exceedingly well given, and I was very pleased to have another chance of hearing the opera. Fräulein Heinefetter, Messrs. Wildt, Binder, and Forti, in a word, all the best artists in Vienna, were present and did their utmost. I went to the opera with Czapek, and when it was over we went to the same restaurant where Beethoven used to take his supper.
I must say, in case I forget, that I shall probably take rather more money from Peter the banker than dear papa had arranged for. I am very economical, but heaven knows I can only do as I am doing, or I should set off with an empty purse. God keep me from illness; but if anything did happen to me, you might, perhaps, reproach me for not having taken more. Forgive me, and remember that I have lived
It will be a year in October since I received my passport; it will need, of course, to be renewed; how shall I manage it? Write and say if you can send me a fresh one. Perhaps that is impossible.
I often run out and visit Hans or Titus. Yesterday I could have sworn I saw the latter in front of me, but I found it was only a confounded Prussian!
It is to be hoped these expressions will not give you a bad impression of the manners I have learnt in Vienna. There is nothing particular about the style of talk here, except that they say “Gehorsamer Diener” (your obedient servant) in taking leave, and pronounce it “Korschamer Diener.” I have acquired no habit that is truly Viennese; for instance, I cannot play any waltzes, and that is proof enough.
God give you health. May no more of our friends fall. Poor Gustav!
I dine to-day with Schaschek; I shall wear the studs with the Polish eagles, and use the pocket-handkerchief with the Kosynier.
I have written a Polonaise, which I must leave here with Würfel. I received the portrait of our commander-in-chief, General Skrzynecki, but frightfully spoilt, on account of the cholera. Your letters have also been cut, and each bears a large sanitary stamp; so great is the anxiety here.
LAST OF CHOPINʼS LETTERS TO HIS FAMILY. In the last letter, or rather in a few lines, dated July 20th, 1831, Frederic informs his parents that he is going to start the same day with Kumelski, for Münich, through Linz and Salzburg. He writes that he is well, and provided with money, but fears that it will not last out, and asks for some more to be sent to Münich.
These are all that remain of the large collection of Chopinʼs letters preserved by his parents. To the fate which befell the other letters I will refer in the following chapter.
CHAPTER XII.
DESTRUCTION OF CHOPINʼS LETTERS AND OTHER MEMENTOES IN WARSAW. STAY IN MUNICH. DEPARTURE FOR PARIS.
FTER Chopinʼs death, his effects were sold by auction in Paris, and the furniture of his two salons, with the souvenirs he had delighted to have around him, were bought by Miss Stirling, a Scotch lady, one of his pupils and enthusiastic admirers. She took them home with her, and they formed a kind of Chopin Museum. This interesting collection included a portrait of the gifted artist, painted by his friend, Ary Schäffer; a grand piano, by Pleyel, on which Chopin had generally played; a service of Sèvres porcelain, with the inscription, “Offert par Louis Philippe à Frédéric Chopin, 1839;” a splendid and costly casket, presented by Rothschild; and carpets, table-covers, and easy chairs, worked by Chopinʼs pupils.
Miss Stirling directed, in her will, that when she died these relics were to be sent to Chopinʼs mother, to whose house in Warsaw they were accordingly conveyed in 1858. After the death of Madame Chopin, 1861, they passed into the hands of her daughter, Isabella Barcinska. This lady occupied the second floor of one of two houses standing exactly on the boundary between the “New World,” and the “Cracow Suburbs,” and belonging to Count Andreas Zamoyski.
UPROAR IN WARSAW.At the commencement of the political disturbances, which preceded the insurrection of January, 1863, a band of excited young men, inflamed by opinions which were far from being shared by the public, conspired to murder all the deputies. Although the miserable schemes of these fanatical patriots completely failed, they continued to contrive fresh ones, till, at length, exasperated beyond endurance by the bloody conflict which raged through the whole country, they laid a plot to take the life of Count von Berg, who, on the recall of Prince Constantine, had become supreme governor of Poland. Count Berg was returning in his carriage, on the 19th September, 1863, at six in the evening, with an escort of Circassians, from the Belvedère to the Palace. When the carriage came to the spot where the “New World” and “Cracow Suburb” adjoin, a shot, followed by some Orsini bomb-shells, was fired from a window on the fourth floor of Count Zamoyskʼs house. The street was immediately in an uproar, but no one was killed, and only a horse or two belonging to the escort wounded. A detachment of the military, who were at that time always kept in marching order on the Saxon Square, came up in a few minutes. The soldiers surrounded both houses, rudely dragged out the women, and left them in the road, while the men were sent, under a military convoy, to the citadel.
As lava pouring forth from a volcano uproots and annihilates, with its fiery heat, all objects in its pathway, so rushed the angry soldiery from room to room, ruthlessly destroying all that was within their reach. Furniture, pianos, books, manuscripts; in short, everything in the house was flung out of the windows, while wardrobes and other articles too heavy to move were first cut up with hatchets, and the legs of pianos sawn off. These two houses were in the best quarter of the town, and occupied only by well-to do people. An idea may be formed of the quantity of furniture they contained from the fact, that there were from fifteen to twenty pianos.
DESTRUCTION OF CHOPINʼS LETTERS. When the brutal and insensate soldiery arrived at the second storey of the house inhabited by Chopinʼs sister, the mementoes of the great artist, which the whole family cherished with such pious care, were doomed to destruction. The piano—one of Buchholtzʼs—on which he had received his earliest instruction, and which had been the confidant and interpreter of his first musical ideas, was flung into the street by these Vandals.11 At night soldiers made a stack of the ruined furniture in the square at the foot of the statue of Copernicus, and filling their kettles with the wine, spirit, and sugar from the ransacked shops, they made merry round the fire, mixing punch and singing boisterous songs. Pictures, books, and papers—among the latter Chopinʼs correspondence with his family during eighteen years—were thrown in to feed the flames. Eye-witnesses relate that an officer, having lighted upon a portrait of Chopin, painted by a friend, gazed at it long and earnestly before committing his wanton deed. The reflection which illumined the city announced to the terrified inhabitants that the reign of military terror had begun.
But more to be deplored than the loss of any other relics, is the destruction of the
Being a stranger in Vienna, he was obliged to depend on the advice of others, and was alternately suspicious and mistrustful, or confiding as a child. The disturbances in his country deprived him, as a Pole, of the protection of the chief dignitaries of Vienna; while among the artists he met with indifference, and sometimes envy. Thus, irresolute, and dispirited, he beheld other pianists gaining profit and approbation, and himself only took part in a single matinée given on April 4th, in the large Redoubt Hall, by the vocalist, Madame Garcia-Vestris. He gave but one concert,12 and that not until the beginning of June, when, according to their annual custom, and partly also on account of the cholera epidemic, the wealthier inhabitants had left the city; as might be expected the attendance was small, and the expenses exceeded the receipts.
LAST CONCERT IN GERMANY.Disappointed in his expectations, Chopin went to Münich, where he was obliged to stay some weeks, awaiting money for his journey to Paris. This gave him an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the first artists: among others, Bärmann, Berg, Shunke, and Stunz, who, delighted with his playing and his works, persuaded him to perform at the Philharmonic Societyʼs concerts. At one of these Frederic played his E minor Concerto, with orchestral accompaniments. Carried away alike by the beauty of the composition, and the charm and poetry of the execution, the audience overwhelmed the young virtuoso with hearty and genuine applause.
This was Chopinʼs swan-song on German soil, for, during the eighteen years of his residence abroad, he never again publicly performed in Germany. His last visit to Vienna seemed to check all his desires in that direction.
Encouraged by his success in Münich, Chopin left that hospitable town for Stuttgart, where a heavy trial awaited him: the news of the capture of Warsaw by the Russians, September 8th, 1831. Grief, anxiety, and despair as to the fate of his family and his beloved one filled up the measure of his misery. Under the influence of these feelings he wrote, while still at Stuttgart, the magnificent C Minor Study, (the last in the first collection, dedicated to Liszt) frequently called the “Revolutions-Etude.” Amid the wild storm of rushing passages in the left hand the melody rises, now passionately, now in proud majesty, bringing to the mind of the thrilled listener the image of Zeus hurling his thunderbolts at the world.
In such a mood Chopin left for Paris at the end of September, 1831. His passport bore the words, “passant par Paris à Londres;” and, years after, when he had become domiciled and naturalised in France, he often said, with a smile, “I am only passing through.”
With this concludes the information kindly afforded me by the Chopin family. I must now have recourse to my own recollections to Chopinʼs letters, and to the narrations of trustworthy witnesses who were in communication with him either by letter or in person during his residence in the French capital.
CHAPTER XIII.
STAY IN PARIS. CHOPIN PROPOSES TO RECEIVE INSTRUCTION FROM KALKBRENNER. CORRESPONDENCE ABOUT THIS WITH ELSNER. LETTER TO TITUS WOYCIECHOWSKI. CHOPINʼS DESIRE TO GO TO AMERICA NOT REALIZED. HE RESOLVES TO RETURN TO WARSAW. SOIRÉE? AT ROTHSCHILDʼS.
HEN Chopin came to Paris, it was stirred by a considerable amount of political agitation; despite all the efforts of the Legitimists, as the partisans of Charles X. and his descendants were called, Louis Philippe, by favour of the barricades, reigned on the ruins of the Bourbon dynasty. As we have said, things had not yet quieted down, and every section of the populace was divided into parties. Although not advantageous to art, the political situation was of little consequence to Frederic, as he had gone to Paris, not for the sake of performing in public, but solely for self-improvement.
Soon after the taking of Warsaw the Polish army retired into Prussia and Austria, and many of its members found their way to Paris, the fugitives receiving a hearty welcome as they passed through Germany.13 All who, whether in politics or in the field, had been foremost in the revolution—the members of the diet, officers, poets, and writers, who by patriotic songs or newspaper articles had incited the people to insurrection—were in dread of the vengeance of Russia, and took refuge in France, hoping that, sooner or later, her sympathy with the wrongs suffered by Poland would move her to their redress. Miserable delusion! terrible were its consequences! Thousands of intelligent men left the country, carrying with them the light they had shed on science and art, while their loss, as Russia saw with satisfaction, was irreparable, for none were found worthy to take their place. Years of sad experience were needed to convince the Poles that their expectations were foolish, their efforts for freedom useless, and their hopes for aid from France futile.
Chopin, of course, soon became the centre of the Polish emigrants in Paris. Assured about the safety of his relatives in Warsaw, his spirits improved, and he would often ask himself, “What shall my future be?” The plans of his tour, which he had formed at home, having been utterly thwarted, he was obliged to start afresh. To give a concert in Paris did not seem practicable, for who would be likely to take any interest in a young, unknown pianist, because he had the effrontery to perform in public? The few words of praise in the Vienna and Leipsic papers made no impression in Paris, where the public were busy with politics and amusements of
VISIT TO KALKBRENNER. Frederic Kalkbrenner, then at the height of his fame as a virtuoso, was regarded as the first pianist in Europe. Chopin, therefore, paid him a visit, and expressed his desire of becoming his pupil. Directly the young Pole began to play, Kalkbrenner perceived his genius, and that he had nothing more to learn. Chopin, with his modesty and zeal after the highest attainments in art, little imagined what was passing in Kalkbrennerʼs mind. To the latterʼs fame as a pianist nothing could add, but he might also attain the reputation of a first-rate teacher, were he to obtain a pupil of such rare gifts as Chopin. He, therefore, thought it wise not to refuse to take him. Kalkbrenner, whose judgment was authoritative, and who either thought his own opinions infallible or knew how to proclaim them as such, fancied he could pick holes in Chopinʼs playing; he declared that his fingering was quite opposed to the classic method; that his execution was not that of the best school; that he was indeed a gifted virtuoso and composer, but that, although on the right road, he might easily go astray.
Chopin listened in silence, while M. Kalkbrenner announced that he was ready to give him lessons, that he might cure him of those faults which would always be a hindrance to his progress, but only on condition that Chopin promised to remain with him for at least three years. The young artist was much surprised at such a stipulation, but, not yet fully conscious of his own worth, he determined to pause before deciding on a matter of such supreme importance to him. He, therefore, wrote to his father, and to Elsner, to ascertain their wishes and opinions. Elsner was not a little astonished at Kalkbrennerʼs request, and inquired why such a long discipline was required for a pianist like Chopin; did Kalkbrenner desire to undo what was already done, and to destroy Chopinʼs originality? Elsner knew better than anyone else what a deep spring of originality lay hid in the mind of Chopin, and to what degree his technical powers were developed. Accordingly he was in favour of cultivating Chopinʼs “virtuosity,” with a view to his career as a composer, rather than of hindering the free development LETTER FROM ELSNER.of his creative power by a one-sided musical training. He expressed these opinions in the following letter to his beloved pupil:—
“Warsaw, November 27th, 1831.
Dear Frederic,
“I was pleased to see, by your letter, that Kalkbrenner, the first of pianists, as you call him, gave you such a friendly reception. I knew his father, in Paris, in 1805; and the son, who was then very young, had already distinguished himself as a first-rate virtuoso. I am very glad that he has agreed to initiate you into the mysteries of art, but it astonishes me to hear that he requires three years to do so. Did he think the first time he saw and heard you, that you needed all that time to accustom yourself to his method? or that you wished to devote your musical talents to the piano alone, and to confine your compositions to that instrument? If he, with his artistic experience, desires to render service to our art in general, and to you in particular, and if he shows himself your sincere friend, then be to him a grateful pupil.
“In the study of composition, a teacher ought not to be too narrow-minded and particular, especially with pupils of decided talent, and who display a certain independence of invention. They should rather be allowed to go their own way, and to make new discoveries. The pupil must not only stand on the same artistic platform as his master, but, when possessing pre-eminent talent, must rise beyond it, and so cultivate his abilities as to shine by his own light.
“The playing of any instrument—be it ever so perfect, like that of Paganini on the violin, or Kalkbrenner on the piano—is, with all its charm, only the means, not the end of the tone-art. The achievements of Mozart and Beethoven as pianists have long been forgotten, and their pianoforte compositions, although undoubtedly classic works, must give way to the diversified, artistic treatment of that instrument by the modern school. But their other works, not written for one particular instrument, the operas, symphonies, quartets, &c., will not only continue to live, but will, perhaps, remain unequalled by anything in the present day. ‘Sapienti pauca.’
“A pupil should not be kept too long to the study of one method, or of the taste of one nation. What is truly beautiful must not be imitated, but felt, and assimilated with the individual genius. The only perfect nature is the Divine, and art must not take one man, or one nation as a model, for these only afford examples more or less imperfect. In a word, that quality in an artist, (who continually learns from what is around him) which excites the wonder of his contemporaries, can only arrive at perfection by and through itself. The cause of his fame, whether in the present or the future, is none other than his own gifted individuality manifested in his works.
“More bye and bye. Please remember me kindly to Count Plater, Grzymala, Hofmann, Lesueur, Päer, Kalkbrenner, and Norblin. Embrace Orlowski for me.
JOSEPH ELSNER.”
LETTER TO ELSNER.To these weighty observations Frederic sent the following reply:—
Paris, December 14th, 1831.
Dear Monsieur Elsner,
Your letter gave me a fresh proof of your fatherly care and sincere interest in me, your grateful pupil. At the beginning of last year, although fully conscious of my deficiencies, and of how far I was from attaining to the model which I had set before myself in you, I ventured to think that I could follow in your footsteps, and that I might produce, if not a Lokietek, perhaps a Laskonogi.14 But now all those hopes have vanished; I have to think how I can best make my way as a pianist, and so must, for a time, leave in the back ground the loftier artistic aims of which you spoke.
To be a great composer, it is not only needful to possess creative power, but experience and the capacity for self-examination, which, as you have taught me, is not acquired by the mere hearing of other peopleʼs works, but by a careful criticism of oneʼs own.
Many young and very talented pupils of the Parisian Conservatoire are waiting with their hands in their pockets for the performance of their operas, symphonies, and cantatas, which hitherto only Lesueur and Cherubini have seen on paper. I am not speaking of the smaller theatres, although these are difficult enough of approach. And when, like Thos. Nidecki, at the Leopoldstädter Theatre in Vienna, a composer is fortunate enough to obtain a performance, he reaps but little benefit from it, even when, as in this case, the work is a good one. Meyerbeer, too, after he had been famous in the musical world for ten years, stayed three years in Paris waiting,
In my opinion, the composer who can perform his works himself is best off.
I have been recognised as a pianist at two or three cities in Germany; several of the musical papers gave me commendatory notices, and expressed a hope that I should soon take a prominent position among the first pianoforte virtuosi. Now that I have an opportunity of fulfilling my self-made promise, should I not embrace it? I did not care to study pianoforte playing in Germany, for no one could tell me exactly what I was deficient in. Neither did I see the beam in my own eye. Three years of study is a great deal too much, as Kalkbrenner himself perceived when he had heard me two or three times. From this you can see, dear Mons. Elsner, that the true virtuoso does not know what envy is. I could make up my mind to study three years, if I felt certain that would secure the end I have in view. One thing is quite clear to my mind; I will never be a copy of Kalkbrenner; he RESOLVES TO CREATE A NEW ERA IN ART. shall not destroy my bold, it may be, but noble resolution of creating a new era in art. If I take any more lessons now it will only be that I may become independent in the future. Ries, when he had gained a name as a pianist, found it easy to win laurels in Berlin, Frankfort-on-the-Maine and Dresden as the composer of “Die Räuberbraut;” and what a number of years Spohr had been a famous violinist before he wrote “Faust,” “Jessonda,” &c.! I trust you will not withhold your sanction when you see with what aims and on what principles I am acting.
No doubt my parents have told you that my concert is fixed for the twenty-fifth of this month. The preparations have given me a great deal of trouble, and had not Päer, Kalkbrenner, and especially Norblin, (who sends kindest regards to you), taken the matter in hand, I should have been helpless. Just imagine, it takes at least two months to get up a concert in Paris. Baillot is exceedingly kind; he offered to play a Quintet of Beethovenʼs with me, and Kalkbrenner a duet with an accompaniment of four pianos. Mons. Reicha I only know by sight, and you can guess how curious I am to become personally acquainted with him. Those of his pupils whom I have seen gave me no very favourable account of him. He does not like music, and will not talk about it; he never goes to the Conservatoire concerts, and when he gives lessons he looks at the clock all the time. Cherubini acts in a similar fashion, and talks of nothing but cholera and revolution. These masters are like mummies, to be respectfully regarded at a distance, while one draws instruction from their works.
Fétis, whose acquaintance I have made, and from whom much may be learned, only comes to Paris to give lessons. It is said that he does so from necessity, as his debts exceed the profits of the Revue Musicale. He is in danger sometimes of seeing the inside of the debtorʼs prison. But, as in Paris, a debtor can only be legally arrested in his own house, Fétis has left the city for the suburbs; Heaven knows where!
There are a host of interesting people here belonging to the various professions. Three of the orchestras can be called first-rate: that of the Academy, the Italian Opera, and the Theâtre Feydeau.
OPERA IN PARIS. Rossini is director of the Italian Opera, which is undoubtedly now the best in Europe. Lablache, Rubini, Santini, Pasta, Malibran, and Schröder-Devrient perform three times a week for the delectation of the élite. Nourrit, Levasseur, Derivis, Mme. Damoreau-Cinti, and Mlle. Dorus are the stars of the Grand Opera. Chollet and Mlle. Casimir Prévost are much admired at the Comic Opera; in a word, only in Paris can one learn what singing really is. I believe that Malibran-Garcia, not Pasta, is now the greatest songstress in Europe. Prince Valentin Radziwill is quite captivated by her, and we often wish you were here, for you would be charmed with her singing.
Lesueur thanks you for your kind remembrances, and commissions me to return them a thousand-fold. He always speaks of you in a friendly way, and asks every time I see him: “et que fait notre bon Mons. Elsner? Racontez-moi de ses nouvelles;” and then speaks of the Requiem you sent him. Everybody here, from your god-son the young Anton Orlowski to myself, loves and esteems you. I fear our dear friend will have to wait some time for the performance of his opera. The subject is nothing particular and the theatre is closed till the new year.
The King is not very free with his money, the artists need a great deal, and the English are the only people who pay well. I could go on writing till to-morrow, but will not put your patience to such a test. Believe me, with all respect and gratitude,
Ever your faithful pupil,
FREDERIC.
Not only Elsnerʼs letter, and the advice of friends, but his own sound understanding made Chopin feel how superfluous and even ignominious such a course of lessons would be. He justly perceived that he must either become a servile copy of Kalkbrenner, or soon cease to be his pupil; and that as he had been able to maintain his artistic independence beside Field and Hummel, he could not do better than give up Kalkbrennerʼs instruction and take his own way. To preserve his friendly relations with Kalkbrenner, and from a genuine feeling of esteem, he dedicated to him his E minor Concerto. Chopin writes to his friend Titus Woyciechowski15 at this time:—
Paris, December 6th, 1831.
My dear Titus,
Your letter gave me new life. I receive such contrary reports, some of which make me very anxious, for I often put a wrong construction on what my family write. K. expressed himself so strangely, that I was frightened at my own thoughts when I read his words. I trust we may see each other again in this life. I have been greatly pained by all that has happened. Who could have foreseen it?16 Have you forgotten our deliberations the night before your departure from Vienna? Fate has sent me hither where I can breathe freely.... But this is a cause of trouble.
In Paris you find everything. You can amuse yourself, weary yourself, laugh, weep, and above all, do what you like, without a soul taking any notice of you, because thousands are doing likewise. Everybody goes his own way. I believe there are more pianists, more virtuosi, and more donkeys in Paris than anywhere. I came here, as perhaps you have heard, with very few introductions. Malfatti had given me a letter to Päer, I received two or three from the Viennese publishers: and that was all. When the news of the capture of Warsaw reached me at Stuttgart, I determined to go to Paris. Through the bandmaster Päer, I have become acquainted with Rossini, Cherubini, Baillot, and Kalkbrenner.
PLAYS BEFORE KALKBRENNER. You can imagine how eager I was to hear Herz and Hiller play; but they are nothing to Kalkbrenner. To tell the truth,
If you were here I know you would say: “learn, young man, as long as you are told to.” But many friends advise me not to take lessons; they think that I play as well as Kalkbrenner, and that he only wants to have me as a pupil out of vanity. That is absurd. Anybody who understands music must appreciate Kalkbrennerʼs talents, although he is personally unpopular, as he will not associate with everybody. But I can assure you there is something superior about him, as about all the virtuosi whom I have hitherto heard. I told my parents so, and they quite understood it, but Elsner did not; he considered that Kalkbrenner found fault with my playing out of jealousy. Nevertheless, I have already made a name among the artists here.
FIRST CONCERT IN PARIS.I am going to give a concert on the 25th of December, with the assistance of Baillot, Paganiniʼs rival, and Brod, the celebrated hautbois player. I am going to play my F minor Concerto, and the variations in B major. Of the latter, I received from Cassel, a few days ago, a review, ten pages long, by an enthusiastic German, who, after an exhaustive preface, analyzed every bar. He does not consider them variations according to the orthodox style, but a picture of the imagination. He says of the second variation that Don Juan and Leporello are running; of the third that he is fondling Zerline to the disgust of Masetto. In the D flat major in the fifth bar of the Adagio he can perceive Don Juan kissing Zerline. A comical conceit of the reviewerʼs, who is very anxious that the composition should be printed in the Revue Musicale (a paper belonging to his son-in-law Fétis.)
The good Hiller, a very talented young man, and a pupil of Hummel, gave a concert the day before yesterday, which produced a great effect. One of his own symphonies was received with loud applause. He has made Beethoven his model, and his work is full of poetry and enthusiasm. He was sufficiently interested in me to tell Fétisʼs father-in-law that he would do me more harm than good by that notice of his. But to return to my concert: I am not only to play the F minor Concerto and the variations, but perform, with Kalkbrenner, his duet, “Marche suivie dʼune Polonaise,” for two pianos, with accompaniments for four pianos. Is not that a wild idea? One of the pianos is very large and is for Kalkbrenner, another very small one (a so-called monochord) is intended for me. On the other large ones, which make as much noise as an orchestra, Hiller, Osborne, Stamaty, and Sowinski are to play. Norblin, Vidal, and the famous viola player, Urhan, will also assist. The most difficult matter of all was to find a vocalist. Rossini would willingly have helped me to obtain one if he had been allowed to, but Robert, the second director of the Italian Opera, objected. He declared that if it were known he had obliged me he should be besieged by hundreds of similar applications.
OPERATIC SINGERS IN PARIS. As to the opera, I must say I never heard such a fine performance as last week, when the “Barbiere” was given, with Lablache, Rubini, and Malibran-Garcia. There was, too, an excellent rendering of “Otello,” with Rubini, Lablache, and Pasta; also the “Italiana Algeri.” Paris has, in this respect, never offered so many attractions as now. You can have no idea of Lablache. They say that Pastaʼs voice has rather gone off, but I never in my life heard such heavenly singing as hers. Malibranʼs wonderful voice has a compass of three octaves, and she is in her style unique and fascinating. Rubini, a capital tenor, makes no end of roulades, and often too many coloratures, but by his incessant recourse to the trill and tremolo, he wins enormous applause. His mezza-voce is incomparable. A certain Schröder-Devrient has just come out, but she does not make such a furore here as in Germany. Signora Malibran gave “Otello;” Schröder-Devrient, Desdemona. Malibran is a much smaller woman than the German singer, and people thought, several times, that Desdemona would strangle Othello. This was a very expensive performance. I paid twenty-four francs for my place, just to see Malibran as the Moor, and not a very extraordinary impersonation either. The orchestra was first-rate, but the appointments of the Italian Opera are nothing to those of “LʼAcadémie Royale.”
I do not believe that any spectacle at the Italian Opera, however brilliant, ever came up to that of “Robert le Diable,” the new five-act opera of Meyerbeer, the author of the “Crociato.” “Robert” is a master-piece of the new school, in which devils sing through speaking trumpets, and the dead rise from their tombs, but not as in “Szarlatan,”17 only fifty or sixty at once. The stage represents the interior of a ruined cloister, with the moonlight falling brightly on the nuns lying in their graves. In the last act monks appear with incense amid a gorgeous illumination, and the solemn strains of the organ resound from the adjacent building. Meyerbeer has, by this work, made himself immortal; yet it took him more than three years to obtain a performance of it. It is said that for the organ and other accessories he paid more than twenty thousand francs.
Madame Damoreau-Cinti is also a very fine singer; I prefer her to Malibran. The latter astonishes, but Cinti fascinates you. She sings the chromatic scales and coloratures almost more perfectly than the famous flautist, Tulou, plays them. It would be almost impossible to find a more perfect technique. Nourrit, the first tenor at the Grand Opera, is admired for his warmth of feeling. Chollet, the first tenor of the Opera Comique, the best impersonator of Fra Diavolo and excellent in the operas “Zampa” and “Fiancée,” has quite an original manner of conceiving
I pray, above all, dear Titus, that you will write to me soon, or come yourself. My address is, Boulevard Poissonnière, 27. W. W. expects you. I should be so delighted to see you, and there are times when I am almost mad with longing, especially when it rains, and I cannot go out. I shall, I think, have the assistance of the best artists at my concert.
Yours till death,
FREDERIC.
PARIS MORE PLEASANT THAN PROFITABLE.We see from this letter that Chopin was delighted with Paris. He found himself highly esteemed by the most celebrated artists, yet much still remained for him to desire. He had come to Paris with very modest means, and with neither fame nor patronage, but he did not wish to be always dependent on the kindness of his father, who was far from rich, and had daughters to care for. Much, too, as Frederic liked France, especially Paris, he felt that he was in a foreign country, and that the Poles with whom he associated were fugitives. It gave him pain to hear his native land mentioned. Under these circumstances, he curtailed his expenditure as much as possible, and shared his lodgings with needy friends.
He had hoped that his concert would make him a name among the musical public, but as the theatrical director, Véron, would not permit any of his singers to assist, the performance was of necessity postponed till February 26th, 1832. Unfortunately, however, the receipts did not even clear the expenses, for only the well-to-do among the Polish refugees attended, and there was scarcely a French person present. Chopinʼs friends tried to console him by telling him of the difficulties other artists had had to struggle against in their early days. His true friends—and he had indeed some such—advised him to go more into society, for which he had plenty of opportunity, but on this point he was not to be persuaded. The letters to his parents at this period are tinged with melancholy.
His stay in Paris was saddened by the absence of any prospect of improving his position. He, therefore, turned his thoughts to quite another plan of life. Some young Polish exiles, who were neither able nor willing to remain in Paris, had resolved to go to America. Chopin, knowing there was a lack of good artists in the New World, thought that he should do well to go there, and so be no longer a burden to his father. He knew full well that his parents expected his entire confidence, so he communicated his intentions, endeavouring to persuade them that he could do nothing better than leave France, and seek his fortunes on the other side of the Western ocean.