VIENNA MUSICAL LIFE.--KARNTHNERTHOR THEATRE.--SABINE HEINEFETTER.-
-CONCERTS: HESSE, THALBERG, DOHLER, HUMMEL, ALOYS SCHMITT,
CHARLES CZERNY, SLAVIK, MERK, BOCKLET, ABBE STABLER, KIESEWETTER,
KANDLER.--THE PUBLISHERS HASLINGER, DIABELLI, MECHETTI, AND
JOSEPH CZERNY.--LANNER AND STRAUSS.--CHOPIN PLAYS AT A CONCERT
OF MADAME GARZIA-VESTRIS AND GIVES ONE HIMSELF.--HIS STUDIES AND
COMPOSITIONS OF THAT TIME.--HIS STATE OF BODY AND MIND.--
PREPARATIONS FOR AND POSTPONEMENT OF HIS DEPARTURE.--SHORTNESS OF
MONEY.--HIS MELANCHOLY.--TWO EXCURSIONS.--LEAVES FOR MUNICH.--HIS
CONCERT AT MUNICH.--HIS STAY AT STUTTGART.--PROCEEDS TO PARIS.
The allusions to music and musicians lead us naturally to inquire
further after Chopin's musical experiences in Vienna.
January 26, 1831.--If I had not made [he writes] the
exceedingly interesting acquaintance of the most talented
artists of this place, such as Slavik, Merk, Bocklet, and so
forth [this "so forth" is tantalising], I should be very
little satisfied with my stay here. The Opera indeed is good:
Wild and Miss Heinefetter fascinate the Viennese; only it is
a pity that Duport brings forward so few new operas, and
thinks more of his pocket than of art.
What Chopin says here and elsewhere about Duport's stinginess
tallies with the contemporary newspaper accounts. No sooner had
the new manager taken possession of his post than he began to
economise in such a manner that he drove away men like Conradin
Kreutzer, Weigl, and Mayseder. During the earlier part of his
sojourn in Vienna Chopin remarked that excepting Heinefetter and
Wild, the singers were not so excellent as he had expected to
find them at the Imperial Opera. Afterwards he seems to have
somewhat extended his sympathies, for he writes in July, 1831:--
Rossini's "Siege of Corinth" was lately very well performed
here, and I am glad that I had the opportunity of hearing
this opera. Miss Heinefetter and Messrs. Wild, Binder, and
Forti, in short, all the good singers in Vienna, appeared in
this opera and did their best.
Chopin's most considerable criticism of this time is one on Miss
Heinefetter in a letter written on December 25, 1830; it may
serve as a pendant to his criticism on Miss Sontag which I quoted
in a preceding chapter.
Miss Heinefetter has a voice such as one seldom hears; she
sings always in tune; her coloratura is like so many pearls;
in short, everything is faultless. She looks particularly
well when dressed as a man. But she is cold: I got my nose
almost frozen in the stalls. In "Othello" she delighted me
more than in the "Barber of Seville," where she represents a
finished coquette instead of a lively, witty girl. As Sextus
in "Titus" she looks really quite splendid. In a few days she
is to appear in the "Thieving Magpie" ["La Gazza ladra"]. I
am anxious to hear it. Miss Woikow pleased me better as
Rosina in the "Barber"; but, to be sure, she has not such a
delicious voice as the Heinefetter. I wish I had heard Pasta!
The opera at the Karnthnerthor Theatre with all its shortcomings
was nevertheless the most important and most satisfactory musical
institution of the city. What else, indeed, had Vienna to offer
to the earnest musician? Lanner and Strauss were the heroes of
the day, and the majority of other concerts than those given by
them were exhibitions of virtuosos. Imagine what a pass the
musical world of Vienna must have come to when Stadler,
Kiesewetter, Mosel, and Seyfried could be called, as Chopin did
call them, its elite! Abbe Stadler might well say to the stranger
from Poland that Vienna was no longer what it used to be. Haydn,
Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert had shuffled off their mortal
coil, and compared with these suns their surviving contemporaries
and successors--Gyrowetz, Weigl, Stadler, Conradin Kreutzer,
Lachner, &c.--were but dim and uncertain lights.
With regard to choral and orchestral performances apart from the
stage, Vienna had till more recent times very little to boast of.
In 1830-1831 the Spirituel-Concerte (Concerts Spirituels) were
still in existence under the conductorship of Lannoy; but since
1824 their number had dwindled down from eighteen to four yearly
concerts. The programmes were made up of a symphony and some
sacred choruses. Beethoven, Mozart, and Haydn predominated among
the symphonists; in the choral department preference was given to
the Austrian school of church music; but Cherubim also was a
great favourite, and choruses from Handel's oratorios, with
Mosel's additional accompaniments, were often performed. The name
of Beethoven was hardly ever absent from any of the programmes.
That the orchestra consisted chiefly of amateurs, and that the
performances took place without rehearsals (only difficult new
works got a rehearsal, and one only), are facts which speak for
themselves. Franz Lachner told Hanslick that the performances of
new and in any way difficult compositions were so bad that
Schubert once left the hall in the middle of one of his works,
and he himself (Lachner) had felt several times inclined to do
the same. These are the concerts of which Beethoven spoke as
Winkelmusik, and the tickets of which he denominated
Abtrittskarten, a word which, as the expression of a man of
genius, I do not hesitate to quote, but which I could not venture
to translate. Since this damning criticism was uttered, matters
had not improved, on the contrary, had gone from bad to worse.
Another society of note was the still existing and flourishing
Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. It, too, gave four, or perhaps
five yearly concerts, in each of which a symphony, an overture,
an aria or duet, an instrumental solo, and a chorus were
performed. This society was afflicted with the same evil as the
first-named institution. It was a
gladdening sight [we are told] to see counts and tradesmen,
superiors and subalterns, professors and students, noble
ladies and simple burghers' daughters side by side
harmoniously exerting themselves for the love of art.
As far as choral singing is concerned the example deserves to be
followed, but the matter stands differently with regard to
instrumental music, a branch of the art which demands not only
longer and more careful, but also constant, training. Although
the early custom of drawing lots, in order to determine who were
to sing the solos, what places the players were to occupy in the
orchestra, and which of the four conductors was to wield the
baton, had already disappeared before 1831, yet in 1841 the
performances of the symphonies were still so little "in the
spirit of the composers" (a delicate way of stating an ugly fact)
that a critic advised the society to imitate the foreign
conservatoriums, and reinforce the band with the best musicians
of the capital, who, constantly exercising their art, and
conversant with the works of the great masters, were better able
to do justice to them than amateurs who met only four times a
year. What a boon it would be to humanity, what an increase of
happiness, if amateurs would allow themselves to be taught by
George Eliot, who never spoke truer and wiser words than when she
said:--"A little private imitation of what is good is a sort of
private devotion to it, and most of us ought to practise art only
in the light of private study--preparation to understand and
enjoy what the few can do for us." In addition to the above I
shall yet mention a third society, the Tonkunstler-Societat,
which, as the name implies, was an association of musicians. Its
object was the getting-up and keeping-up of a pension fund, and
its artistic activity displayed itself in four yearly concerts.
Haydn's "Creation" and "Seasons" were the stock pieces of the
society's repertoire, but in 1830 and 1831 Handel's "Messiah" and
"Solomon" and Lachner's "Die vier Menschenalter" were also
performed.
These historical notes will give us an idea of what Chopin may
have heard in the way of choral and orchestral music. I say "may
have heard," because not a word is to be found in his extant
letters about the concerts of these societies. Without exposing
ourselves to the reproach of rashness, we may, however, assume
that he was present at the concert of the Gesellschaft der
Musikfreunde on March 20, 1831, when among the items of the
programme were Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, and the first
movement of a concerto composed and played by Thalberg. On seeing
the name of one of the most famous pianists contemporary with
Chopin, the reader has, no doubt, at once guessed the reason why
I assumed the latter's presence at the concert. These two
remarkable, but in their characters and aims so dissimilar, men
had some friendly intercourse in Vienna. Chopin mentions Thalberg
twice in his letters, first on December 25, 1830, and again on
May 28, 1831. On the latter occasion he relates that he went with
him to an organ recital given by Hesse, the previously-mentioned
Adolf Hesse of Breslau, of whom Chopin now remarked that he had
talent and knew how to treat his instrument. Hesse and Chopin
must have had some personal intercourse, for we learn that the
former left with the latter an album leaf. A propos of this
circumstance, Chopin confesses in a letter to his people that he
is at a loss what to write, that he lacks the requisite wit. But
let us return to the brilliant pianist, who, of course, was a
more interesting acquaintance in Chopin's, eyes than the great
organist. Born in 1812, and consequently three years younger than
Chopin, Sigismund Thalberg had already in his fifteenth year
played with success in public, and at the age of sixteen
published Op. 1, 2, and 3. However, when Chopin made his
acquaintance, he had not yet begun to play only his own
compositions (about that time he played, for instance,
Beethoven's C minor Concerto at one of the Spirituel-Concerte,
where since 1830 instrumental solos were occasionally heard), nor
had he attained that in its way unique perfection of beauty of
tone and elegance of execution which distinguished him
afterwards. Indeed, the palmy days of his career cannot be dated
farther back than the year 1835, when he and Chopin met again in
Paris; but then his success was so enormous that his fame in a
short time became universal, and as a virtuoso only one rival was
left him--Liszt, the unconquered. That Chopin and Thalberg
entertained very high opinions of each other cannot be asserted.
Let the reader judge for himself after reading what Chopin says
in his letter of December 25, 1830:--
Thalberg plays famously, but he is not my man. He is younger
than I, pleases the ladies very much, makes pot-pourris on
"La Muette" ["Masaniello"], plays the forte and piano with
the pedal, but not with the hand, takes tenths as easily as I
do octaves, and wears studs with diamonds. Moscheles does not
at all astonish him; therefore it is no wonder that only the
tuttis of my concerto have pleased him. He, too, writes
concertos.
Chopin was endowed with a considerable power of sarcasm, and was
fond of cultivating and exercising it. This portraiture of his
brother-artist is not a bad specimen of its kind, although we
shall meet with better ones.
Another, but as yet unfledged, celebrity was at that time living
in Vienna, prosecuting his studies under Czerny--namely, Theodor
Dohler. Chopin, who went to hear him play some compositions of
his master's at the theatre, does not allude to him again after
the concert; but if he foresaw what a position as a pianist and
composer he himself was destined to occupy, he could not suspect
that this lad of seventeen would some day be held up to the
Parisian public by a hostile clique as a rival equalling and even
surpassing his peculiar excellences. By the way, the notion of
anyone playing compositions of Czerny's at a concert cannot but
strangely tickle the fancy of a musician who has the privilege of
living in the latter part of the nineteenth century.
Besides the young pianists with a great future before them Chopin
came also in contact with aging pianists with a great past behind
them. Hummel, accompanied by his son, called on him in the latter
part of December, 1830, and was extraordinarily polite. In April,
1831, the two pianists, the setting and the rising star, were
together at the villa of Dr. Malfatti. Chopin informed his
master, Elsner, for whose masses he was in quest of a publisher,
that Haslinger was publishing the last mass of Hummel, and added:-
-
For he now lives only by and for Hummel. It is rumoured that
the last compositions of Hummel do not sell well, and yet he
is said to have paid a high price for them. Therefore he now
lays all MSS. aside, and prints only Strauss's waltzes.
Unfortunately there is not a word which betrays Chopin's opinion
of Hummel's playing and compositions. We are more fortunate in
the case of another celebrity, one, however, of a much lower
order. In one of the prosaic intervals, of the sentimental
rhapsody, indited on December 25, 1830, there occur the following
remarks:--
The pianist Aloys Schmitt of Frankfort-on-the-Main, famous
for his excellent studies, is at present here; he is a man
above forty. I have made his acquaintance; he promised to
visit me. He intends to give a concert here, and one must
admit that he is a clever musician. I think we shall
understand each other with regard to music.
Having looked at this picture, let the reader look also at this
other, dashed off a month later in a letter to Elsner:--
The pianist Aloys Schmitt has been flipped on the nose by the
critics, although he is already over forty years old, and
composes eighty-years-old music.
From the contemporary journals we learn that, at the concert
mentioned by Chopin, Schmitt afforded the public of Vienna an
opportunity of hearing a number of his own compositions--which
were by no means short drawing-room pieces, but a symphony,
overture, concerto, concertino, &c.--and that he concluded his
concert with an improvisation. One critic, at least, described
his style of playing as sound and brilliant. The misfortune of
Schmitt was to have come too late into the world--respectable
mediocrities like him always do that--he never had any youth. The
pianist on whom Chopin called first on arriving in Vienna was
Charles Czerny, and he
was, as he is always (and to everybody), very polite, and
asked, "Hat fleissig studirt?" [Have you studied diligently?]
He has again arranged an overture for eight pianos and
sixteen performers, and seems to be very happy over it.
Only in the sense of belonging rather to the outgoing than to the
incoming generation can Czerny be reckoned among the aged
pianists, for in 1831 he was not above forty years of age and had
still an enormous capacity for work in him--hundreds and hundreds
of original and transcribed compositions, thousands and thousands
of lessons. His name appears in a passage of one of Chopin's
letters which deserves to be quoted for various reasons: it shows
the writer's dislike to the Jews, his love of Polish music, and
his contempt for a kind of composition much cultivated by Czerny.
Speaking of the violinist Herz, "an Israelite," who was almost
hissed when he made his debut in Warsaw, and whom Chopin was
going to hear again in Vienna, he says:--
At the close of the concert Herz will play his own Variations
on Polish airs. Poor Polish airs! You do not in the least
suspect how you will be interlarded with "majufes" [see page
49, foot-note], and that the title of "Polish music" is only
given you to entice the public. If one is so outspoken as to
discuss the respective merits of genuine Polish music and
this imitation of it, and to place the former above the
latter, people declare one to be mad, and do this so much the
more readily because Czerny, the oracle of Vienna, has
hitherto in the fabrication of his musical dainties never
produced Variations on a Polish air.
Chopin had not much sympathy with Czerny the musician, but seems
to have had some liking for the man, who indeed was gentle, kind,
and courteous in his disposition and deportment.
A much more congenial and intimate connection existed between
Chopin, Slavik, and Merk. [FOOTNOTE: Thus the name is spelt in
Mendel's Musikalisches Conversations-Lexikon and by E. A. Melis,
the Bohemian writer on music. Chopin spells it Slawik. The more
usual spelling, however, is Slawjk; and in C.F. Whistling's
Handbuch der musikalischen Literatur (Leipzig, 1828) it is
Slavjk.] Joseph Slavik had come to Vienna in 1825 and had at once
excited a great sensation. He was then a young man of nineteen,
but technically already superior to all the violinists that had
been heard in the Austrian capital. The celebrated Mayseder
called him a second Lipinski. Pixis, his master at the
Conservatorium in Prague, on seeing some of this extraordinary
pupil's compositions--a concerto, variations, &c.--had wondered
how anyone could write down such mad, unplayable stuff. But
Slavik before leaving Prague proved at a farewell concert that
there was at least one who could play the mad stuff. All this,
however, was merely the prelude to what was yet to come. The
appearance of Paganini in 1828 revealed to him the, till then,
dimly-perceived ideal of his dreams, and the great Italian
violinist, who took an interest in this ardent admirer and gave
him some hints, became henceforth his model. Having saved a
little money, he went for his further improvement to Paris,
studying especially under Baillot, but soon returned to accept an
engagement in the Imperial Band. When after two years of hard
practising he reappeared before the public of Vienna, his style
was altogether changed; he mastered the same difficulties as
Paganini, or even greater ones, not, however, with the same
unfailing certainty, nor with an always irreproachable
intonation. Still, there can be no doubt that had not a premature
death (in 1833, at the age of twenty-seven) cut short his career,
he would have spread his fame all over the world. Chopin, who met
him first at Wurfel's, at once felt a liking for him, and when on
the following day he heard him play after dinner at Beyer's, he
was more pleased with his performance than with that of any other
violinist except Paganini. As Chopin's playing was equally
sympathetic to Slavik, they formed the project of writing a duet
for violin and piano. In a letter to his friend Matuszynski
(December 25, 1830) Chopin writes:--
I have just come from the excellent violinist Slavik. With
the exception of Paganini, I never heard a violin-player like
him. Ninety-six staccato notes in one bow! It is almost
incredible! When I heard him I felt inclined to return to my
lodgings and sketch variations on an Adagio [which they had
previously agreed to take for their theme] of Beethoven's.
The sight of the post-office and a letter from his Polish friends
put the variations out of his mind, and they seem never to have
been written, at least nothing has been heard of them. Some
remarks on Slavik in a letter addressed to his parents (May 28,
1831) show Chopin's admiration of and affection for his friend
still more distinctly:--
He is one of the Viennese artists with whom I keep up a
really friendly and intimate intercourse. He plays like a
second Paganini, but a rejuvenated one, who will perhaps in
time surpass the first. I should not believe it myself if I
had not heard him so often....Slavik fascinates the listener
and brings tears into his eyes.
Shortly after falling in with Slavik, Chopin met Merk, probably
at the house of the publisher Mechetti, and on January 1, 1831,
he announces to his friend in Warsaw with unmistakable pride that
"Merk, the first violoncellist in Vienna," has promised him a
visit. Chopin desired very much to become acquainted with him
because he thought that Merk, Slavik, and himself would form a
capital trio. The violoncellist was considerably older than
either pianist or violinist, being born in 1795. Merk began his
musical career as a violinist, but being badly bitten in the arm
by a big dog, and disabled thereby to hold the violin in its
proper position (this is what Fetis relates), he devoted himself
to the violoncello, and with such success as to become the first
solo player in Vienna. At the time we are speaking of he was a
member of the Imperial Orchestra and a professor at the
Conservatorium. He often gave concerts with Mayseder, and was
called the Mayseder of the violoncello. Chopin, on hearing him at
a soiree of the well-known autograph collector Fuchs, writes
home:--
Limmer, one of the better artists here in Vienna, produced
some of his compositions for four violoncelli. Merk, by his
expressive playing, made them, as usual, more beautiful than
they really are. People stayed again till midnight, for Merk
took a fancy to play with me his variations. He told me that
he liked to play with me, and it is always a great treat to
me to play with him. I think we look well together. He is the
first violoncellist whom I really admire.
Of Chopin's intercourse with the third of the "exceedingly
interesting acquaintances "whom he mentions by name, we get no
particulars in his letters. Still, Carl Maria von Bocklet, for
whom Beethoven wrote three letters of recommendation, who was an
intimate friend of Schubert's, and whose interpretations of
classical works and power of improvisation gave him one of the
foremost places among the pianists of the day, cannot have been
without influence on Chopin. Bocklet, better than any other
pianist then living in Vienna, could bring the young Pole into
closer communication with the German masters of the preceding
generation; he could, as it were, transmit to him some of the
spirit that animated Beethoven, Schubert, and Weber. The absence
of allusions to Bocklet in Chopin's letters does not, however,
prove that he never made any, for the extant letters are only a
small portion of those he actually wrote, many of them having in
the perturbed state of Poland never reached their destination,
others having been burnt by his parents for fear of the Russian
police, and some, no doubt, having been lost through carelessness
or indifference.
The list of Chopin's acquaintances is as yet far from being
exhausted. He had conversations with old Abbe Stadler, the friend
of Haydn and Mozart, whose Psalms, which he saw in MS., he
admired. He also speaks of one of the performances of old,
sacred, and secular music which took place at Kiesewetter's house
as if he were going to it. But a musician of Chopin's nature
would not take a very lively interest in the historical aspect of
the art; nor would the learned investigator of the music of the
Netherlanders, of the music of the Arabs, of the life and works
of Guido d'Arezzo, &c., readily perceive the preciousness of the
modern composer's originality. At any rate, Chopin had more
intercourse with the musico-literary Franz Kandler, who wrote
favourable criticisms on his performances as a composer and
player, and with whom he went on one occasion to the Imperial
Library, where the discovery of a certain MS. surprised him even
more than the magnitude and order of the collection, which he
could not imagine to be inferior to that of Bologna--the
manuscript in question being no other than his Op. 2, which
Haslinger had presented to the library. Chopin found another MS.
of his, that of the Rondo for two pianos, in Aloys Fuchs's famous
collection of autographs, which then comprised 400 numbers, but
about the year 1840 had increased to 650 numbers, most of them
complete works. He must have understood how to ingratiate himself
with the collector, otherwise he would hardly have had the good
fortune to be presented with an autograph of Beethoven.
Chopin became also acquainted with almost all the principal
publishers in Vienna. Of Haslinger enough has already been said.
By Czerny Chopin was introduced to Diabelli, who invited him to
an evening party of musicians. With Mechetti he seems to have
been on a friendly footing. He dined at his house, met him at Dr.
Malfatti's, handed over to him for publication his Polonaise for
piano and violoncello (Op. 3), and described him as enterprising
and probably persuadable to publish Elsner's masses. Joseph
Czerny, no relation of Charles's, was a mere business
acquaintance of Chopin's. Being reminded of his promise to
publish a quartet of Elsner's, he said he could not undertake to
do so just then (about January 26, 1831), as he was publishing
the works of Schubert, of which many were still in the press.
Therefore [writes Chopin to his master] I fear your MS. will
have to wait. Czerny, I have found out now, is not one of the
richest publishers here, and consequently cannot easily risk
the publication of a work which is not performed at the Sped
or at the Romische Kaiser. Waltzes are here called works; and
Lanner and Strauss, who lead the performances, Capellmeister.
In saying this, however, I do not mean that all people here
are of this opinion; on the contrary, there are many who
laugh at it. Still, it is almost only waltzes that are
published.
It is hardly possible for us to conceive the enthusiasm and
ecstasy into which the waltzes of the two dance composers
transported Vienna, which was divided into two camps:--
The Sperl and Volksgarten [says Hanslick] were on the Strauss
and Lanner days the favourite and most frequented "concert
localities." In the year 1839 Strauss and Lanner had already
each of them published more than too works. The journals were
thrown into ecstasy by every new set of waltzes; innumerable
articles appeared on Strauss, and Lanner, enthusiastic,
humorous, pathetic, and certainly longer than those that were
devoted to Beethoven and Mozart.
These glimpses of the notabilities and manners of a by-gone
generation, caught, as it were, through the chinks of the wall
which time is building up between the past and the present, are
instructive as well as amusing. It would be a great mistake to
regard these details, apparently very loosely connected with the
life of Chopin, as superfluous appendages to his biography. A
man's sympathies and antipathies are revelations of his nature,
and an artist's surroundings make evident his position and merit,
the degree of his originality being undeterminable without a
knowledge of the time in which he lived. Moreover, let the
impatient reader remember that, Chopin's life being somewhat poor
in incidents, the narrative cannot be an even-paced march, but
must be a series of leaps and pauses, with here and there an
intervening amble, and one or two brisk canters.
Having described the social and artistic sphere, or rather
spheres, in which Chopin moved, pointed out the persons with whom
he most associated, and noted his opinions regarding men and
things, almost all that is worth telling of his life in the
imperial city is told--almost all, but not all. Indeed, of the
latter half of his sojourn there some events have yet to be
recorded which in importance, if not in interest, surpass
anything that is to be found in the preceding and the foregoing
part of the present chapter. I have already indicated that the
disappointment of Chopin's hopes and the failure of his plans
cannot altogether be laid to the charge of unfavourable
circumstances. His parents must have thought so too, and taken
him to task about his remissness in the matter of giving a
concert, for on May 14, 1831, Chopin writes to them:--"My most
fervent wish is to be able to fulfil your wishes; till now,
however, I found it impossible to give a concert." But although
he had not himself given a concert he had had an opportunity of
presenting himself in the best company to the public of Vienna.
In the "Theaterzeitung" of April 2, 1831, Madame Garzia-Vestris
announced a concert to be held in the Redoutensaal during the
morning hours of April 4, in which she was to be assisted by the
Misses Sabine and Clara Heinefetter, Messrs. Wild, Chopin, Bohm
(violinist), Hellmesberger (violinist, pupil of the former),
Merk, and the brothers Lewy (two horn-players). Chopin was
distinguished from all the rest, as a homo ignotus et novus, by
the parenthetical "pianoforte-player" after his name, no such
information being thought necessary in the case of the other
artists. The times are changed, now most readers require
parenthetical elucidation after each name except that of Chopin.
"He has put down the mighty from their seat and has exalted them
of low degree!" The above-mentioned exhortation of his parents
seems to have had the desired effect, and induced Chopin to make
an effort, although now the circumstances were less favourable to
his giving a concert than at the time of his arrival. The musical
season was over, and many people had left the capital for their
summer haunts; the struggle in Poland continued with increasing
fierceness, which was not likely to lessen the backwardness of
Austrians in patronising a Pole; and in addition to this, cholera
had visited the country and put to flight all who were not
obliged to stay. I have not been able to ascertain the date and
other particulars of this concert. Through Karasowski we learn
that it was thinly attended, and that the receipts did not cover
the expenses. The "Theaterzeitung," which had given such full
criticisms of Chopin's performances in 1829, says not a word
either of the matinee or of the concert, not even the
advertisement of the latter has come under my notice. No doubt
Chopin alludes to criticisms on this concert when he writes in
the month of July:--
Louisa [his sister] informs me that Mr. Elsner was very much
pleased with the criticism; I wonder what he will say of the
others, he who was my teacher of composition?
Kandler, the Vienna correspondent of the "Allgemeine musikalische
Zeitung," after discussing in that paper (September 21, 1831) the
performances of several artists, among others that of the clever
Polish violin-virtuoso Serwaczynski, turns to "Chopin, also from
the Sarmatian capital, who already during his visit last year
proved himself a pianist of the first rank," and remarks:--
The execution of his newest Concerto in E minor, a serious
composition, gave no cause to revoke our former judgment. One
who is so upright in his dealings with genuine art is
deserving our genuine esteem.
All things considered, I do not hesitate to accept Liszt's
statement that the young artist did not produce such a sensation
as he had a right to expect. In fact, notwithstanding the many
pleasant social connections he had, Chopin must have afterwards
looked back with regret, probably with bitterness, on his eight
months' sojourn in Vienna. Not only did he add nothing to his
fame as a pianist and composer by successful concerts and new
publications, but he seems even to have been sluggish in his
studies and in the production of new works. How he leisurely
whiled away the mornings at his lodgings, and passed the rest of
the day abroad and in society, he himself has explicitly
described. That this was his usual mode of life at Vienna,
receives further support from the self-satisfaction with which he
on one occasion mentions that he had practised from early morning
till two o'clock in the afternoon. In his letters we read only
twice of his having finished some new compositions. On December
21, 1830, he writes:--
I wished to enclose my latest waltz, but the post is about to
depart, and I have no longer time to copy it, therefore I
shall send it another time. The mazurkas, too, I have first
to get copied, but they are not intended for dancing.
And in the month of July, 1831, "I have written a polonaise,
which I must leave here for Wurfel." There are two more remarks
about compositions, but of compositions which were never
finished, perhaps never begun. One of these remarks refers to the
variations on a theme of Beethoven's, which he intended to
compose conjointly with Slavik, and has already been quoted; the
other refers to a grander project. Speaking of Nidecki, who came
every morning to his lodgings and practised his (Chopin's)
concerto, he says (December 21, 1830):--
If I succeed in writing a concerto for two pianos so as to
satisfy myself, we intend to appear at once with it in
public; first, however, I wish to play once alone.
What an interesting, but at the same time what a gigantic,
subject to write on the history of the unrealised plans of men of
genius would be! The above-mentioned waltz, polonaise, and
mazurkas do not, of course, represent the whole of Chopin's
output as a composer during the time of his stay in Vienna; but
we may surmise with some degree of certainty that few works of
importance have to be added to it. Indeed, the multiplicity of
his social connections and engagements left him little time for
himself, and the condition of his fatherland kept him in a
constant state of restlessness. Poland and her struggle for
independence were always in his mind; now he laments in his
letters the death of a friend, now rejoices at a victory, now
asks eagerly if such or such a piece of good news that has
reached him is true, now expresses the hope that God will be
propitious to their cause, now relates that he has vented his
patriotism by putting on the studs with the Polish eagles and
using the pocket-handkerchief with the Kosynier (scythe-man)
depicted on it.
What is going on at home? [he writes, on May 28, 1831.] I am
always dreaming of you. Is there still no end to the
bloodshed? I know your answer: "Patience!" I, too, always
comfort myself with that.
But good health, he finds, is the best comfort in misfortune, and
if his bulletins to his parents could be trusted he was in full
enjoyment of it.
Zacharkiewicz of Warsaw called on me; and when his wife saw
me at Szaszek's, she did not know how to sufficiently express
her astonishment at my having become such a sturdy fellow. I
have let my whiskers grow only on the right side, and they
are growing very well; on the left side they are not needed
at all, for one sits always with the right side turned to the
public.
Although his "ideal" is not there to retain him, yet he cannot
make up his mind to leave Vienna. On May 28, he writes:--
How quickly this dear time passes! It is already the end of
May, and I am still in Vienna. June will come, and I shall
probably be still here, for Kumelski fell ill and was obliged
to take to bed again.
It was not only June but past the middle of July before Chopin
left, and I am afraid he would not always have so good an excuse
for prolonging his stay as the sickness of his travelling-
companion. On June 25, however, we hear of active preparations
being made for departure.
I am in good health, that is the only thing that cheers me,
for it seems as if my departure would never take place. You
all know how irresolute I am, and in addition to this I meet
with obstacles at every step. Day after day I am promised my
passport, and I run from Herod to Pontius Pilate, only to get
back what I deposited at the police office. To-day I heard
even more agreeable news--namely, that my passport has been
mislaid, and that they cannot find it; I have even to send in
an application for a new one. It is curious how now every
imaginable misfortune befalls us poor Poles. Although I am
ready to depart, I am unable to set out.
Chopin had been advised by Mr. Beyer to have London instead of
Paris put as a visa in his passport. The police complied with his
request that this should be done, but the Russian Ambassador,
after keeping the document for two days, gave him only permission
to travel as far as Munich. But Chopin did not care so long as he
got the signature of the French Ambassador. Although his passport
contained the words "passant par Paris a Londres," and he in
after years in Paris sometimes remarked, in allusion to these
words, "I am here only in passing," he had no intention of going
to London. The fine sentiment, therefore, of which a propos of
this circumstance some writers have delivered themselves was
altogether misplaced. When the difficulty about the passport was
overcome, another arose: to enter Bavaria from cholera-stricken
Austria a passport of health was required. Thus Chopin had to
begin another series of applications, in fact, had to run about
for half a day before he obtained this additional document.
Chopin appears to have been rather short of money in the latter
part of his stay in Vienna--a state of matters with which the
financial failure of the concert may have had something to do.
The preparations for his departure brought the pecuniary question
still more prominently forward. On June 25, 1831, he writes to
his parents:--
I live as economically as possible, and take as much care of
every kreuzer as of that ring in Warsaw [the one given him by
the Emperor Alexander]. You may sell it, I have already cost
you so much.
He must have talked about his shortness of money to some of his
friends in Vienna, for he mentions that the pianist-composer
Czapek, who calls on him every day and shows him much kindness,
has offered him money for the journey should he stand in need of
it. One would hardly have credited Chopin with proficiency in an
art in which he nevertheless greatly excelled--namely, in the art
of writing begging letters. How well he understood how to touch
the springs of the parental feelings the following application
for funds will prove.
July, 1831.--But I must not forget to mention that I shall
probably be obliged to draw more money from the banker Peter
than my dear father has allowed me. I am very economical;
but, God knows, I cannot help it, for otherwise I should have
to leave with an almost empty purse. God preserve me from
sickness; were, however, anything to happen to me, you might
perhaps reproach me for not having taken more. Pardon me, but
consider that I have already lived on this money during May,
June, and July, and that I have now to pay more for my dinner
than I did in winter. I do not do this only because I myself
feel I ought to do so, but also in consequence of the good
advice of others. I am very sorry that I have to ask you for
it; my papa has already spent more than three groschen for
me; I know also very well how difficult it is to earn money.
Believe me, my dearest ones, it is harder for me to ask than
for you to give. God will not fail to assist us also in the
future, punctum!
Chopin was at this time very subject to melancholy, and did not
altogether hide the fact even from his parents. He was perhaps
thinking of the "lengthening chain" which he would have to drag
at this new remove. He often runs into the street to seek Titus
Woyciechowski or John Matuszynski. One day he imagines he sees
the former walking before him, but on coming up to the supposed
friend is disgusted to find "a d---- Prussian."
I lack nothing [he writes in July, 1831] except more life,
more spirit! I often feel unstrung, but sometimes as merry as
I used to be at home. When I am sad I go to Madame Szaszek's;
there I generally meet several amiable Polish ladies who with
their hearty, hopeful words always cheer me up, so that I
begin at once to imitate the generals here. This is a fresh
joke of mine; but those who saw it almost died with laughing.
But alas, there are days when not two words can be got out of
me, nor can anyone find out what is the matter with me; then,
to divert myself, I generally take a thirty-kreuzer drive to
Hietzing, or somewhere else in the neighbourhood of Vienna.
This is a valuable bit of autobiography; it sets forth clearly
Chopin's proneness to melancholy, which, however, easily gave way
to his sportiveness. That low spirits and scantiness of money did
not prevent Chopin from thoroughly enjoying himself may be
gathered from many indications in his letters; of these I shall
select his descriptions of two excursions in the neighbourhood of
Vienna, which not only make us better acquainted with the writer,
but also are interesting in themselves.
June 25, 1831.--The day before yesterday we were with
Kumelski and Czapek...on the Kahlenberg and Leopoldsberg. It
was a magnificent day; I have never had a finer walk. From
the Leopoldsberg one sees all Vienna, Wagram, Aspern,
Pressburg, even Kloster-Neuburg, the castle in which Richard
the Lion-hearted lived for a long time as a prisoner. Also
the whole of the upper part of the Danube lay before our
eyes. After breakfast we ascended the Kahlenberg, where King
John Sobieski pitched his camp and caused the rockets to be
fired which announced to Count Starhemberg, the commandant of
Vienna, the approach of the Polish army. There is the
Camaldolese Monastery in which the King knighted his son
James before the attack on the Turks and himself served as
acolyte at the Mass. I enclose for Isabella a little leaf
from that spot, which is now covered with plants. From there
we went in the evening to the Krapfenwald, a beautiful
valley, where we saw a comical boys' trick. The little
fellows had enveloped themselves from head to foot in leaves
and looked like walking bushes. In this costume they crept
from one visitor to another. Such a boy covered with leaves
and his head adorned with twigs is called a "Pfingstkonig"
[Whitsuntide-King]. This drollery is customary here at
Whitsuntide.
The second excursion is thus described:--
July, 1831.--The day before yesterday honest Wurfel called on
me; Czapek, Kumelski. and many others also came, and we drove
together to St. Veil--a beautiful place; I could not say the
same of Tivoli, where they have constructed a kind ol
caroitsscl, or rather a track with a sledge, which is called
Rutsch. It is a childish amusement, but a great number of
grown-up people have themselves rolled down the hill in this
carriage just for pastime. At first I did not feel inclined
to try it, but as there were eight of us, all good friends,
we began to vie with each other in sliding down. It was
folly, and yet we all laughed heartily. I myself joined in
the sport with much satisfaction until it struck me that
healthy and strong men could do something better--now, when
humanity calls to them for protection and defence. May the
devil take this frivolity!
In the same letter Chopin expresses the hope that his use of
various, not quite unobjectionable, words beginning with a "d"
may not give his parents a bad opinion of the culture he has
acquired in Vienna, and removes any possible disquietude on their
part by assuring them that he has adopted nothing that is
Viennese in its nature, that, in fact, he has not even learnt to
play a Tanzwalzer (a dancing waltz). This, then, is the sad
result of his sojourn in Vienna.
On July 20, 1831, Chopin, accompanied by his friend Kumelski,
left Vienna and travelled by Linz and Salzburg to Munich, where
he had to wait some weeks for supplies from home. His stay in the
capital of Bavaria, however, was not lost time, for he made there
the acquaintance of several clever musicians, and they, charmed
by his playing and compositions, induced him to give a concert.
Karasowski tells us that Chopin played his E minor Concerto at
one of the Philharmonic Society's concerts--which is not quite
correct, as we shall see presently--and adds that
the audience, carried away by the beauty of the composition
and his excellent, poetic rendering, overwhelmed the young
virtuoso with loud applause and sincere admiration.
In writing this the biographer had probably in his mind the
following passage from Chopin's letter to Titus Woyciechowski,
dated Paris, December 16, 1831:--" I played [to Kalkbrenner, in
Paris] the E minor Concerto, which charmed the people of the
Bavarian capital so much." The two statements are not synonymous.
What the biographer says may be true, and if it is not, ought to
be so; but I am afraid the existing documents do not bear it out
in its entirety. Among the many local and other journals which I
have consulted, I have found only one notice of Chopin's
appearance at Munich, and when I expectantly scanned a resume of
Munich musical life, from the spring to the end of the year 1831,
in the "Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung," I found mention made of
Mendelssohn and Lafont, but not of Chopin. Thus, unless we assume
that Karasowski--true to his mission as a eulogising biographer,
and most vigorous when unfettered by definite data--indulged in
exaggeration, we must seek for a reconciliation of the enthusiasm
of the audience with the silence of the reporter in certain
characteristics of the Munich public. Mendelssohn says of it:--
The people here [in Munich] have an extraordinary receptivity
for music, which is much cultivated. But it appears to me
that everything makes an impression and that the impressions
do not last.
Speaking of Mendelssohn, it is curious to note how he and Chopin
were again and again on the point of meeting, and again and again
failed to meet. In Berlin Chopin was too bashful and modest to
address his already famous young brother-artist, who in 1830 left
Vienna shortly before Chopin arrived, and in 1831 arrived in
Munich shortly after Chopin had left. The only notice of Chopin's
public appearance in Munich I have been able to discover, I found
in No. 87 (August 30, 1831) of the periodical "Flora", which
contains, under the heading "news," a pretty full account of the
"concert of Mr. Chopin of Warsaw." From this account we learn
that Chopin was assisted by the singers Madame Pellegrini and
Messrs. Bayer, Lenz, and Harm, the clarinet-player Barmann, jun.,
and Capellmeister Stunz. The singers performed a four-part song,
and Barmann took part in a cavatina (sung by Bayer, the first
tenor at the opera) with clarinet and pianoforte accompaniment by
Schubert (?). What the writer of the account says about Chopin
shall be quoted in full:--
On the 28th August, Mr. F. Chopin, of Warsaw, gave a morning
concert [Mittags Concert] in the hall of the Philharmonic
Society, which was attended by a very select audience. Mr.
Chopin performed on the pianoforte a Concerto in E minor of
his own composition, and showed an excellent virtuosity in
the treatment of his instrument; besides a developed
technique, one noticed especially a charming delicacy of
execution, and a beautiful and characteristic rendering of
the motives. The composition was, on the whole, brilliantly
and well written, without surprising, however, by
extraordinary novelty or a particular profundity, with the
exception of the Rondo, whose principal thought as well as
the florid middle sections, through an original combination
of a melancholy trait with a capriccio, evolved a peculiar
charm, on which account it particularly pleased. The concert-
giver performed in conclusion a fantasia on Polish national
songs. There is a something in the Slavonic songs which
almost never fails in its effect, the cause of which,
however, is difficult to trace and explain; for it is not
only the rhythm and the quick change from minor to major
which produce this charm. No one has probably understood
better how to combine the national character of such folk-
songs with a brilliant concert style than Bernhard Romberg
[Footnote: The famous violoncellist], who by his compositions
of this kind, put in a favourable light by his masterly
playing, knew how to exercise a peculiar fascination. Quite
of this style was the fantasia of Mr. Chopin, who gained
unanimous applause.
From Munich Chopin proceeded to Stuttgart, and during his stay
there learnt the sad news of the taking of Warsaw by the Russians
(September 8, 1831). It is said that this event inspired him to
compose the C minor study (No. 12 of Op. 10), with its passionate
surging and impetuous ejaculations. Writing from Paris on
December 16, 1831, Chopin remarks, in allusion to the traeic
denouement of the Polish revolution: "All this has caused me much
pain. Who could have foreseen it!"
With his visits to Stuttgart Chopin's artist-life in Germany came
to a close, for, although he afterwards repeatedly visited the
country, he never played in public or made a lengthened stay
there. Now that Chopin is nearing Paris, where, occasional
sojourns elsewhere (most of them of short duration) excepted, he
will pass the rest of his life, it may interest the reader to
learn that this change of country brought with it also a change
of name, at least as far as popular pronunciation and spelling
went. We may be sure that the Germans did not always give to the
final syllable the appropriate nasal sound. And what the Polish
pronunciation was is sufficiently indicated by the spelling
"Szopen," frequently to be met with. I found it in the Polish
illustrated journal "Kiosy," and it is also to be seen in Joseph
Sikorski's "Wspomnienie Szopena" ("Reminiscences of Chopin").
Szulc and Karasowski call their books and hero "Fryderyk Chopin."