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."