1831-1832.
ACQUAINTANCES AND FRIENDS: CHERUBINI, BAILLOT, FRANCHOMME, LISZT,
MILLER, OSBORNE, MENDELSSOHN.--CHOPIN AND KALKBRENNER.--CHOPIN'S AIMS AS
AN ARTIST.--KALKBRENNER'S CHARACTER AS A MAN AND ARTIST.--CHOPIN'S FIRST
PARIS CONCERT.--FETIS.--CHOPIN PLAYS AT A CONCERT GIVEN BY THE PRINCE
DE LA MOSKOWA.--HIS STATE OF MIND.--LOSS OF HIS POLISH
LETTERS.--TEMPORARILY STRAITENED CIRCUMSTANCES AND BRIGHTENING
PROSPECTS.--PATRONS AND WELL-WISHERS.--THE "IDEAL."--A LETTER TO HILLER.
Chopin brought only a few letters of introduction with him to Paris:
one from Dr. Malfatti to Paer, and some from others to music-publishers.
Through Paer he was made acquainted with Cherubini, Rossini, Baillot,
and Kalkbrenner. Although Chopin in one of his early Paris letters calls
Cherubini a mummy, he seems to have subsequently been more favourably
impressed by him. At any rate, Ferdinand Hiller--who may have
accompanied the new-comer, if he did not, as he thinks he did, introduce
him, which is not reconcilable with his friend's statement that Paer
made him acquainted with Cherubini--told me that Chopin conceived a
liking for the burbero maestro, of whom Mendelssohn remarked that he
composed everything with his head without the help of his heart.
The house of Cherubini [writes Veron in his "Memoires d'un
Bourgeois de Paris"] was open to artists, amateurs, and
people of good society; and every Monday a numerous assembly
thronged his salons. All foreign artists wished to be
presented to Cherubini. During these last years one met often
at his house Hummel, Liszt, Chopin, Moscheles, Madame
Grassini, and Mademoiselle Falcon, then young and brilliant
in talent and beauty; Auber and Halevy, the favourite pupils
of the master; and Meyerbeer and Rossini.
As evidence of the younger master's respect for the older one may
be adduced a copy made by Chopin of one of Cherubini's fugues. This
manuscript, which I saw in the possession of M. Franchomme, is a miracle
of penmanship, and surpasses in neatness and minuteness everything I
have seen of Chopin's writing, which is always microscopic.
From Dr. Hiller I learnt also that Chopin went frequently to Baillot's
house. It is very probable that he was present at the soirees which
Mendelssohn describes with his usual charming ease in his Paris letters.
Baillot, though a man of sixty, still knew how to win the admiration of
the best musicians by his fine, expressive violin-playing. Chopin writes
in a letter to Elsner that Baillot was very amiable towards him, and
had promised to take part with him in a quintet of Beethoven's at
his concert; and in another letter Chopin calls Baillot "the rival of
Paganini."
As far as I can learn there was not much intercourse between Chopin and
Rossini. Of Kalkbrenner I shall have presently to speak at some
length; first, however, I shall say a few words about some of the most
interesting young artists whose acquaintance Chopin made.
One of these young artists was the famous violoncellist Franchomme, who
told me that it was Hiller who first spoke to him of the young Pole and
his unique compositions and playing. Soon after this conversation, and
not long after the new-comer's arrival in Paris, Chopin, Liszt, Hiller,
and Franchomme dined together. When the party broke up, Chopin asked
Franchomme what he was going to do. Franchomme replied he had no
particular engagement. "Then," said Chopin, "come with me and spend an
hour or two at my lodgings." "Well," was the answer of Franchomme, "but
if I do you will have to play to me." Chopin had no objection, and the
two walked off together. Franchomme thought that Chopin was at that time
staying at an hotel in the Rue Bergere. Be this as it may, the young
Pole played as he had promised, and the young Frenchman understood him
at once. This first meeting was the beginning of a life-long friendship,
a friendship such as is rarely to be met with among the fashionable
musicians of populous cities.
Mendelssohn, who came to Paris early in December, 1831, and stayed there
till about the middle of April, 1832, associated a good deal with this
set of striving artists. The diminutive "Chopinetto," which he makes
use of in his letters to Hiller, indicates not only Chopin's delicate
constitution of body and mind and social amiability, but also
Mendelssohn's kindly feeling for him. [Footnote: Chopin is not mentioned
in any of Mendelssohn's Paris letters. But the following words may refer
to him; for although Mendelssohn did not play at Chopin's concert, there
may have been some talk of his doing so. January 14, 1832: "Next week
a Pole gives a concert; in it I have to play a piece for six performers
with Kalkbrenner, Hiller and Co." Osborne related in his "Reminiscences
of Frederick Chopin," a paper read before a meeting of the Musical
Association (April 5, 1880), that he, Chopin, Hiller, and Mendelssohn,
during the latter's stay in Paris, frequently dined together at a
restaurant. They ordered and paid the dinner in turn. One evening at
dessert they had a very animated conversation about authors and their
manuscripts. When they were ready to leave Osborne called the waiter,
but instead of asking for la note a payer, he said "Garcon, apportez-moi
votre manuscrit." This sally of the mercurial Irishman was received with
hearty laughter, Chopin especially being much tickled by the profanation
of the word so sacred to authors. From the same source we learn also
that Chopin took delight in repeating the criticisms on his performances
which he at one time or other had chanced to overhear.
Not the least interesting and significant incident in Chopin's life was
his first meeting and early connection with Kalkbrenner, who at that
time--when Liszt and Thalberg had not yet taken possession of the
commanding positions they afterwards occupied--enjoyed the most
brilliant reputation of all the pianists then living. On December 16,
1831, Chopin writes to his friend Woyciechowski:--
You may easily imagine how curious I was to hear Herz and
Hiller play; they are ciphers compared with Kalkbrenner.
Honestly speaking, I play as well as Herz, but I wish I could
play as well as Kalkbrenner. If Paganini is perfect, so also
is he, but in quite another way. His repose, his enchanting
touch, the smoothness of his playing, I cannot describe to
you, one recognises the master in every note--he is a giant
who throws all other artists into the shade. When I visited
him, he begged me to play him something. What was I to do? As
I had heard Herz, I took courage, seated myself at the
instrument, and played my E minor Concerto, which charmed the
people of the Bavarian capital so much. Kalkbrenner was
astonished, and asked me if I were a pupil of Field's. He
remarked that I had the style of Cramer, but the touch of
Field. It amused me that Kalkbrenner, when he played to me,
made a mistake and did not know how to go on; but it was
wonderful to hear how he found his way again. Since this
meeting we see each other daily, either he calls on me or I
on him. He proposed to teach me for three years and make a
great artist of me. I told him that I knew very well what I
still lacked; but I will not imitate him, and three years are
too much for me. He has convinced me that I play well only
when I am in the right mood for it, but less well when this
is not the case. This cannot be said of Kalkbrenner, his
playing is always the same. When he had watched me for a long
time, he came to the conclusion that I had no method; that I
was indeed on a very good path, but might easily go astray;
and that when he ceased to play, there would no longer be a
representative of the grand pianoforte school left. I cannot
create a new school, however much I may wish to do so,
because I do not even know the old one; but I know that my
tone-poems have some individuality in them, and that I always
strive to advance.
If you were here, you would say "Learn, young man, as long as
you have an opportunity to do so!" But many dissuade me from
taking lessons, are of opinion that I play as well as
Kalkbrenner, and that it is only vanity that makes him wish
to have me for his pupil. That is nonsense. Whoever knows
anything of music must think highly of Kalkbrenner's talent,
although he is disliked as a man because he will not
associate with everybody. But I assure you there is in him
something higher than in all the virtuosos whom I have as yet
heard. I have said this in a letter to my parents, who quite
understand it. Elsner, however, does not comprehend it, and
regards it as jealousy on Kalkbrenner's part that he not only
praises me, but also wishes that my playing were in some
respects different from what it is. In spite of all this I
may tell you confidentially that I have already a
distinguished name among the artists here.
Elsner expressed his astonishment that Kalkbrenner should require three
years to reveal to Chopin the secrets of his art, and advised his
former pupil not to confine the exercise of his musical talent to
pianoforte-playing and the composition of pianoforte music. Chopin
replies to this in a letter written on December 14, 1831, as follows:--
In the beginning of last year, although I knew what I yet
lacked, and how very far I still was from equalling the model
I have in you, I nevertheless ventured to think, "I will
approach him, and if I cannot produce, a Lokietek ["the
short," surname of a king of Poland; Elsner had composed an
opera of that name], I may perhaps give to the world a
Laskonogi ["the thin-legged," surname of another king of
Poland]." To-day all such hopes are annihilated; I am forced
to think of making my way in the world as a pianist. For some
time I must keep in the background the higher artistic aim of
which you wrote to me. In order to be a great composer one
must possess, in addition to creative power, experience and
the faculty of self-criticism, which, as you have taught me,
one obtains not only by listening to the works of others, but
still more by means of a careful critical examination of
one's own.
After describing the difficulties which lie in the way of the opera
composer, he proceeds:--
It is my conviction that he is the happier man who is able to
execute his compositions himself. I am known here and there
in Germany as a pianist; several musical journals have spoken
highly of my concerts, and expressed the hope of seeing me
soon take a prominent position among the first pianoforte-
virtuosos. I had to-day anopportunity or fulfilling the
promise I had made to myself. Why should I not embrace it?...
I should not like to learn pianoforte-playing in Germany, for
there no one could tell me precisely what it was that I
lacked. I, too, have not seen the beam in my eye. Three
years' study is far too much. Kalkbrenner, when he had heard
me repeatedly, came to see that himself. From this you may
see that a true meritorious virtuoso does not know the
feeling of envy. I would certainly make up my mind to study
for three years longer if I were certain that I should then
reach the aim which I have kept in view. So much is clear to
me, I shall never become a copy of Kalkbrenner; he will not
be able to break my perhaps bold but noble resolve--TO CREATE
A NEW ART-ERA. If I now continue my studies, I do so only in
order to stand at some future time on my own feet. It was not
difficult for Ries, who was then already recognised as a
celebrated pianist, to win laurels at Berlin, Frankfort-on-
the-Main, Dresden, &c., by his opera Die Rauberbraut. And how
long was Spohr known as an excellent violinist before he had
written Faust, Jessonda, and other works? I hope you will not
deny me your blessing when you see on what grounds and with
what intentions I struggle onwards.
This is one of the most important letters we have of Chopin; it brings
before us, not the sighing lover, the sentimental friend, but the
courageous artist. On no other occasion did he write so freely and fully
of his views and aims. What heroic self-confidence, noble resolves, vast
projects, flattering dreams! And how sad to think that most of them were
doomed to end in failure and disappointment! But few are the lives of
true artists that can really be called happy! Even the most successful
have, in view of the ideally conceived, to deplore the quantitative and
qualitative shortcomings of the actually accomplished. But to return to
Kalkbrenner. Of him Chopin said truly that he was not a popular man; at
any rate, he was not a popular man with the romanticists. Hiller tells
us in his "Recollections and Letters of Mendelssohn" how little grateful
he and his friends, Mendelssohn included, were for Kalkbrenner's
civilities, and what a wicked pleasure they took in worrying him.
Sitting one day in front of a cafe on the Boulevard des Italiens,
Hiller, Liszt, and Chopin saw the prim master advancing, and knowing
how disagreeable it would be to him to meet such a noisy company, they
surrounded him in the friendliest manner, and assailed him with such a
volley of talk that he was nearly driven to despair, which, adds
Hiller, "of course delighted us." It must be confessed that the great
Kalkbrenner, as M. Marmontel in his "Pianistes celebres" remarks, had
"certaines etroitesses de caractere," and these "narrownesses" were of
a kind that particularly provokes the ridicule of unconventional and
irreverent minds. Heine is never more biting than when he speaks of
Kalkbrenner. He calls him a mummy, and describes him as being dead long
ago and having lately also married. This, however, was some years after
the time we are speaking of. On another occasion Heine writes that
Kalkbrenner is envied
for his elegant manners, for his polish and sweetishness, and
for his whole marchpane-like appearance, in which, however,
ihe calm observer discovers a shabby admixture of involuntary
Berlinisms of the lowest class, so that Koreff could say of
the man as wittily as correctly: "He looks like a bon-bon
that has been in the mud."
A thorough belief in and an unlimited admiration of himself form the
centre of gravity upon which the other qualities of Kalkbrenner's
character balance themselves. He prided himself on being the pattern of
a fine gentleman, and took upon him to teach even his oldest friends
how to conduct themselves in society and at table. In his gait he was
dignified, in his manners ceremonious, and in his speech excessively
polite. He was addicted to boasting of honours offered him by the
King, and of his intimacy with the highest aristocracy. That he did not
despise popularity with the lower strata of society is evidenced by the
anecdote (which the virtuoso is credited with having told himself to his
guests) of the fish-wife who, on reading his card, timidly asks him to
accept as a homage to the great Kalkbrenner a splendid fish which he had
selected for his table. The artist was the counterpart of the man. He
considered every success as by right his due, and recognised merit only
in those who were formed on his method or at least acknowledged its
superiority. His artistic style was a chastened reflex of his social
demeanour.
It is difficult to understand how the Kalkbrenner-Chopin affair could
be so often misrepresented, especially since we are in possession of
Chopin's clear statements of the facts. [FOOTNOTE: Statements which
are by no means invalidated by the following statement of Lenz:--"On my
asking Chopin 'whether Kalkbrenner had understood much about it' [i.e.
the art of pianoforte-playing], followed the answer: 'It was at the
beginning of my stay in Paris.'"]. There are no grounds whatever to
justify the assumption that Kalkbrenner was actuated by jealousy,
artfulness, or the like, when he proposed that the wonderfully-gifted
and developed Chopin should become his pupil for three years. His
conceit of himself and his method account fully for the strangeness
of the proposal. Moreover, three years was the regulation time of
Kalkbrenner's course, and it was much that he was willing to shorten
it in the case of Chopin. Karasowski, speaking as if he had the gift
of reading the inmost thoughts of men, remarks: "Chopin did not suspect
what was passing in Kalkbrenner's mind when he was playing to him."
After all, I should like to ask, is there anything surprising in the
fact that the admired virtuoso and author of a "Methode pour apprendre
le Piano a l'aide du Guide-mains; contenant les principes de musique;
un systems complet de doigter; des regles sur l'expression," &c.,
found fault with Chopin's strange fingering and unconventional style?
Kalkbrenner could not imagine anything superior to his own method,
anything finer than his own style. And this inability to admit the
meritoriousness or even the legitimacy of anything that differed
from what he was accustomed to, was not at all peculiar to this great
pianist; we see it every day in men greatly his inferiors. Kalkbrenner's
lament that when he ceased to play there would be no representative left
of the grand pianoforte school ought to call forth our sympathy.
Surely we cannot blame him for wishing to perpetuate what he held to be
unsurpassable! According to Hiller, Chopin went a few times to the class
of advanced pupils which Kalkbrenner had advised him to attend, as he
wished to see what the thing was like. Mendelssohn, who had a great
opinion of Chopin and the reverse of Kalkbrenner, was furious when
he heard of this. But were Chopin's friends correct in saying that he
played better than Kalkbrenner, and could learn nothing from him? That
Chopin played better than Kalkbrenner was no doubt true, if we consider
the emotional and intellectual qualities of their playing. But I think
it was not correct to say that Chopin could learn nothing from the
older master. Chopin was not only a better judge of Kalkbrenner than his
friends, who had only sharp eyes for his short-comings, and overlooked
or undervalued his good qualities, but he was also a better judge of
himself and his own requirements. He had an ideal in his mind, and he
thought that Kalkbrenner's teaching would help him to realise it. Then
there is also this to be considered: unconnected with any school, at
no time guided by a great master of the instrument, and left to his own
devices at a very early age, Chopin found himself, as it were, floating
free in the air without a base to stand on, without a pillar to lean
against. The consequent feeling of isolation inspires at times even
the strongest and most independent self-taught man--and Chopin, as a
pianist, may almost be called one--with distrust in the adequacy of his
self-acquired attainments, and an exaggerated idea of the advantages of
a school education. "I cannot create a new school, because I do not even
know the old one." This may or may not be bad reasoning, but it shows
the attitude of Chopin's mind. It is also possible that he may have
felt the inadequacy and inappropriateness of his technique and style for
other than his own compositions. And many facts in the history of his
career as an executant would seem to confirm the correctness of such a
feeling. At any rate, after what we have read we cannot attribute his
intention of studying under Kalkbrenner to undue self-depreciation. For
did he not consider his own playing as good as that of Herz, and feel
that he had in him the stuff to found a new era in music? But what
was it then that attracted him to Kalkbrenner, and made him exalt this
pianist above all the pianists he had heard? If the reader will recall
to mind what I said in speaking of Mdlles. Sontag and Belleville of
Chopin's love of beauty of tone, elegance, and neatness, he cannot be
surprised at the young pianist's estimate of the virtuoso of whom
Riehl says: "The essence of his nature was what the philologists call
elegantia--he spoke the purest Ciceronian Latin on the piano." As a
knowledge of Kalkbrenner's artistic personality will help to further
our acquaintance with Chopin, and as our knowledge of it is for the
most part derived from the libels and caricatures of well-intentioned
critics, who in their zeal for a nobler and more glorious art overshoot
the mark of truth, it will be worth our while to make inquiries
regarding it.
Kalkbrenner may not inaptly be called the Delille of pianist-composers,
for his nature and fate remind us somewhat of the poet. As to his works,
although none of them possessed stamina enough to be long-lived, they
would have insured him a fairer reputation if he had not published so
many that were written merely for the market. Even Schumann confessed
to having in his younger days heard and played Kalkbrenner's music often
and with pleasure, and at a maturer age continued to acknowledge not
only the master's natural virtuoso amiability and clever manner of
writing effectively for fingers and hands, but also the genuinely
musical qualities of his better works, of which he held the Concerto in
D minor to be the "bloom," and remarks that it shows the "bright sides"
of Kalkbrenner's "pleasing talent." We are, however, here more concerned
with the pianist than with the composer. One of the best sketches of
Kalkbrenner as a pianist is to be found in a passage which I shall
presently quote from M. Marmontel's collection of "Silhouettes et
Medaillons" of "Les Pianistes celebres." The sketch is valuable on
account of its being written by one who is himself a master, one who
does not speak from mere hearsay, and who, whilst regarding Kalkbrenner
as an exceptional virtuoso, the continuator of Clementi, the
founder ("one of the founders" would be more correct) of modern
pianoforte-playing, and approving of the leading principle of his
method, which aims at the perfect independence of the fingers and their
preponderant action, does not hesitate to blame the exclusion of the
action of the wrist, forearm, and arm, of which the executant should
not deprive himself "dans les accents de legerete, d'expression et de
force." But here is what M. Marmontel says:--
The pianoforte assumed under his fingers a marvellous and
never harsh sonorousness, for he did not seek forced effects.
His playing, smooth, sustained, harmonious, and of a perfect
evenness, charmed even more than it astonished; moreover, a
faultless neatness in the most difficult passages, and a left
hand of unparalleled bravura, made Kalkbrenner an
extraordinary virtuoso. Let us add that the perfect
independence of the fingers, the absence of the in our day so
frequent movements of the arms, the tranquillity of the hands
and body, a perfect bearing--all these qualities combined,
and many others which we forget, left the auditor free to
enjoy the pleasure of listening without having his attention
diverted by fatiguing gymnastics. Kalkbrenner's manner of
phrasing was somewhat lacking in expression and communicative
warmth, but the style was always noble, true, and of the
grand school.
We now know what Chopin meant when he described Kalkbrenner as "perfect
and possessed of something that raised him above all other virtuosos";
we now know also that Chopin's admiration was characteristic and not
misplaced. Nevertheless, nobody will think for a moment of disagreeing
with those who advised Chopin not to become a pupil of this master, who
always exacted absolute submission to his precepts; for it was to
be feared that he would pay too dear for the gain of inferior
accomplishments with the loss of his invaluable originality. But, as
we have seen, the affair came to nothing, Chopin ceasing to attend the
classes after a few visits. What no doubt influenced his final decision
more than the advice of his friends was the success which his playing
and compositions met with at the concert of which I have now to tell the
history. Chopin's desertion as a pupil did not terminate the friendly
relation that existed between the two artists. When Chopin published
his E minor Concerto he dedicated it to Kalkbrenner, and the latter soon
after composed "Variations brillantes (Op. 120) pour le piano sur une
Mazourka de Chopin," and often improvised on his young brother-artist's
mazurkas. Chopin's friendship with Camille Pleyel helped no doubt to
keep up his intercourse with Kalkbrenner, who was a partner of the firm
of Pleyel & Co.
The arrangements for his concert gave Chopin much trouble, and had they
not been taken in hand by Paer, Kalkbrenner, and especially Norblin, he
would not have been able to do anything in Paris, where one required at
least two months to get up a concert. This is what Chopin tells Elsner
in the letter dated December 14, 1831. Notwithstanding such powerful
assistance he did not succeed in giving his concert on the 25th of
December, as he at first intended. The difficulty was to find a lady
vocalist. Rossini, the director of the Italian Opera, was willing to
help him, but Robert, the second director, refused to give permission
to any of the singers in his company to perform at the concert, fearing
that, if he did so once, there would be no end of applications. As
Veron, the director of the Academie Royale likewise refused Chopin's
request, the concert had to be put off till the 15th of January, 1832,
when, however, on account of Kalkbrenner's illness or for some other
reason, it had again to be postponed. At last it came off on February
26, 1832. Chopin writes on December 16, 1831, about the arrangements for
the concert:--
Baillot, the rival of Paganini, and Brod, the celebrated oboe-
player, will assist me with their talent. I intend to play my
F minor Concerto and the Variations in B flat...I shall play
not only the concerto and the variations, but also with
Kalkbrenner his duet "Marche suivie d'une Polonaise" for two
pianos, with the accompaniment of four others. Is this not an
altogether mad idea? One of the grand pianos is very large,
and is for Kalkbrenner; the other is small (a so-called mono-
chord), and is for me. On the other large ones, which are as
loud as an orchestra, Hiller, Osborne, Stamati, and Sowinski
are to play. Besides these performers, Norblin, Vidal, and
the celebrated viola-player Urban will take part in the
concert.
The singers of the evening were Mdlles. Isambert and Tomeoni, and
M. Boulanger. I have not been able to discover the programme of the
concert. Hiller says that Chopin played his E minor Concerto and some
of his mazurkas and nocturnes. Fetis, in the Revue musicale (March
3, 1832), mentions only in a general way that there were performed a
concerto by Chopin, a composition for six pianos by Kalkbrenner, some
vocal pieces, an oboe solo, and "a quintet for violin [sic], executed
with that energy of feeling and that variety of inspiration which
distinguish the talent of M. Baillot." The concert, which took place in
Pleyel's rooms, was financially a failure; the receipts did not cover
the expenses. The audience consisted chiefly of Poles, and most of
the French present had free tickets. Hiller says that all the musical
celebrities of Paris were there, and that Chopin's performances took
everybody by storm. "After this," he adds, "nothing more was heard
of want of technique, and Mendelssohn applauded triumphantly." Fetis
describes this soiree musicale as one of the most pleasant that had been
given that year. His criticism contains such interesting and, on the
whole, such excellent remarks that I cannot resist the temptation to
quote the more remarkable passages:--
Here is a young man who, abandoning himself to his natural
impressions and without taking a model, has found, if not a
complete renewal of pianoforte music, at least a part of what
has been sought in vain for a long time--namely, an abundance
of original ideas of which the type is to be found nowhere.
We do not mean by this that M. Chopin is endowed with a
powerful organisation like that of Beethoven, nor that there
are in his music such powerful conceptions as one remarks in
that of this great man. Beethoven has composed pianoforte
music, but I speak here of pianists' music, and it is by
comparison with the latter that I find in M. Chopin's
inspirations the indication of a renewal of forms which may
exercise in time much influence over this department of the
art.
Of Chopin's concerto Fetis remarks that it:--
equally astonished and surprised his audience, as much by the
novelty of the melodic ideas as by the figures, modulations,
and general disposition of the movements. There is soul in
these melodies, fancy in these figures, and originality in
everything. Too much luxuriance in the modulations, disorder
in the linking of the phrases, so that one seems sometimes to
hear an improvisation rather than written music, these are
the defects which are mixed with the qualities I have just
now pointed out. But these defects belong to the age of the
artist; they will disappear when experience comes. If the
subsequent works of M. Chopin correspond to his debut, there
can be no doubt but that he will acquire a brilliant and
merited reputation.
As an executant also the young artist deserves praise. His
playing is elegant, easy, graceful, and possesses brilliance
and neatness. He brings little tone out of the instrument,
and resembles in this respect the majority of German
pianists. But the study which he is making of this part of
his art, under the direction of M. Kalkbrenner, cannot fail
to give him an important quality on which the nerf of
execution depends, and without which the accents of the
instrument cannot be modified.
Of course dissentient voices made themselves heard who objected to this
and that; but an overwhelming majority, to which belonged the young
artists, pronounced in favour of Chopin. Liszt says that he remembers
his friend's debut:--
The most vigorous applause seemed not to suffice to our
enthusiasm in the presence of this talented musician, who
revealed a new phase of poetic sentiment combined with such
happy innovations in the form of his art.
The concluding remark of the above-quoted criticism furnishes an
additional proof that Chopin went for some time to Kalkbrenner's class.
As Fetis and Chopin were acquainted with each other, we may suppose that
the former was well informed on this point. In passing, we may take
note of Chopin's account of the famous historian and theorist's early
struggles:--
Fetis [Chopin writes on December 14, 1831], whom I know, and
from whom one can learn much, lives outside the town, and
comes to Paris only to give his lessons. They say he is
obliged to do this because his debts are greater than the
profits from his "Revue musicale." He is sometimes in danger
of making intimate acquaintance with the debtors' prison. You
must know that according to the law of the country a debtor
can only be arrested in his dwelling. Fetis has, therefore,
left the town and lives in the neighbourhood of Paris, nobody
knows where.
On May 20, 1832, less than three months after his first concert, Chopin
made his second public appearance in Paris, at a concert given by
the Prince de la Moskowa for the benefit of the poor. Among the works
performed was a mass composed by the Prince. Chopin played the first
movement of:--
the concerto, which had already been heard at Pleyel's rooms,
and had there obtained a brilliant success. On this occasion
it was not so well received, a fact which, no doubt, must be
attributed to the instrumentation, which is lacking in
lightness, and to the small volume of tone which M. Chopin
draws from the piano. However, it appears to us that the
music of this artist will gain in the public opinion when it
becomes better known. [FOOTNOTE: From the "Revue musicale."]
The great attraction of the evening was not Chopin, but Brod, who
"enraptured" the audience. Indeed, there were few virtuosos who were
as great favourites as this oboe-player; his name was absent from the
programme of hardly any concert of note.
In passing we will note some other musical events of interest which
occurred about the same time that Chopin made his debut. On March 18
Mendelssohn played Beethoven's G major Concerto with great success
at one of the Conservatoire concerts, [FOOTNOTE: It was the first
performance of this work in Paris.] the younger master's overture to the
"Midsummer Night's Dream" had been heard and well received at the same
institution in the preceding month, and somewhat later his "Reformation
Symphony" was rehearsed, but laid aside. In the middle of March
Paganini, who had lately arrived, gave the first of a series of
concerts, with what success it is unnecessary to say. Of Chopin's
intercourse with Zimmermann, the distinguished pianoforte-professor at
the Conservatoire, and his family we learn from M. Marmontel, who was
introduced to Chopin and Liszt, and heard them play in 1832 at one of
his master's brilliant musical fetes, and gives a charming description
of the more social and intimate parties at which Chopin seems to have
been occasionally present.
Madame Zimmermann and her daughters did the honours to a
great number of artists. Charades were acted; the forfeits
that were given, and the rebuses that were not guessed, had
to be redeemed by penances varying according to the nature of
the guilty ones. Gautier, Dumas, and Musset were condemned to
recite their last poem. Liszt or Chopin had to improvise on a
given theme, Mesdames Viardot, Falcon, and Euggnie Garcia had
also to discharge their melodic debts, and I myself remember
having paid many a forfeit.
The preceding chapter and the foregoing part of this chapter set forth
the most important facts of Chopin's social and artistic life in his
early Paris days. The following extract from a letter of his to Titus
Woyciechowski, dated December 25, 1831, reveals to us something of his
inward life, the gloom of which contrasts violently with the outward
brightness:--
Ah, how I should like to have you beside me!... You cannot
imagine how sad it is to have nobody to whom I can open my
troubled heart. You know how easily I make acquaintances, how
I love human society--such acquaintances I make in great
numbers--but with no one, no one can I sigh. My heart beats
as it were always "in syncopes," therefore I torment myself
and seek for a rest--for solitude, so that the whole day
nobody may look at me and speak to me. It is too annoying to
me when there is a pull at the bell, and a tedious visit is
announced while I am writing to you. At the moment when I was
going to describe to you the ball, at which a divine being
with a rose in her black hair enchanted me, arrives your
letter. All the romances of my brain disappear? my thoughts
carry me to you, I take your hand and weep...When shall we
see each other again?...Perhaps never, because, seriously, my
health is very bad. I appear indeed merry, especially when I
am among my fellow-countrymen; but inwardly something
torments me--a gloomy presentiment, unrest, bad dreams,
sleeplessness, yearning, indifference to everything, to the
desire to live and the desire to die. It seems to me often as
if my mind were benumbed, I feel a heavenly repose in my
heart, in my thoughts I see images from which I cannot tear
myself away, and this tortures me beyond all measure. In
short, it is a combination of feelings that are difficult to
describe...Pardon me, dear Titus, for telling you of all
this; but now I have said enough...I will dress now and go,
or rather drive, to the dinner which our countrymen give to-
day to Ramorino and Langermann...Your letter contained much
that was news to me; you have written me four pages and
thirty-seven lines--in all my life you have never been so
liberal to me, and I stood in need of something of the kind,
I stood indeed very much in need of it.
What you write about my artistic career is very true, and I
myself am convinced of it.
I drive in my own equipage, only the coachman is hired.
I shall close, because otherwise I should be too late for the
post, for I am everything in one person, master and servant.
Take pity on me and write as often as possible!--Yours unto
death,
FREDERICK.
In the postscript of this letter Chopin's light fancy gets the better of
his heavy heart; in it all is fun and gaiety. First he tells his friend
of a pretty neighbour whose husband is out all day and who often invites
him to visit and comfort her. But the blandishments of the fair one were
of no avail; he had no taste for adventures, and, moreover, was afraid
to be caught and beaten by the said husband. A second love-story is told
at greater length. The dramatis personae are Chopin, John Peter Pixis,
and Francilla Pixis, a beautiful girl of sixteen, a German orphan whom
the pianist-composer, then a man of about forty-three, had adopted, and
who afterwards became known as a much-admired singer. Chopin made their
acquaintance in Stuttgart, and remarks that Pixis said that he intended
to marry her. On his return to Paris Pixis invited Chopin to visit him;
the latter, who had by this time forgotten pretty Francilla, was in no
hurry to call. What follows must be given in Chopin's own words:--
Eight days after the second invitation I went to his house,
and accidentally met his pet on the stairs. She invited me to
come in, assuring me it did not matter that Mr. Pixis was not
at home; meanwhile I was to sit down, he would return soon,
and so on. A strange embarrassment seized both of us. I made
my excuses--for I knew the old man was very jealous--and said
I would rather return another time. While we were talking
familiarly and innocently on the staircase, Pixis came up,
looking over his spectacles in order to see who was speaking
above to his bella. He may not have recognised us at once,
quickened his steps, stopped before us, and said to her
harshly: "Qu'est-ce que vous faites ici?" and gave her a
severe lecture for receiving young men in his absence, and so
on. I addressed Pixis smilingly, and said to her that it was
somewhat imprudent to leave the room in so thin a silk dress.
At last the old man became calm--he took me by the arm and
led me into the drawing-room. He was in such a state of
excitement that he did not know what seat to offer me; for he
was afraid that, if he had offended me, I would make better
use of his absence another time. When I left he accompanied
me down stairs, and seeing me smile (for I could not help
doing so when I found I was thought capable of such a thing),
he went to the concierge and asked how long it was since I
had come. The concierge must have calmed his fears, for since
that time Pixis does not know how to praise my talent
sufficiently to all his acquaintances. What do you think of
this? I, a dangerous seducteur!
The letters which Chopin wrote to his parents from Paris passed, after
his mother's death, into the hands of his sister, who preserved them
till September 19, 1863. On that day the house in which she lived in
Warsaw--a shot having been fired and some bombs thrown from an upper
story of it when General Berg and his escort were passing--was sacked by
Russian soldiers, who burned or otherwise destroyed all they could lay
hands on, among the rest Chopin's letters, his portrait by Ary Scheffer,
the Buchholtz piano on which he had made his first studies, and other
relics. We have now also exhausted, at least very nearly exhausted,
Chopin's extant correspondence with his most intimate Polish friends,
Matuszynski and Woyciechowski, only two unimportant letters written in
1849 and addressed to the latter remaining yet to be mentioned. That the
confidential correspondence begins to fail us at this period (the last
letter is of December 25, 1831) is particularly inopportune; a series of
letters like those he wrote from Vienna would have furnished us with
the materials for a thoroughly trustworthy history of his settlement
in Paris, over which now hangs a mythical haze. Karasowski, who saw the
lost letters, says they were tinged with melancholy.
Besides the thought of his unhappy country, a thought constantly kept
alive by the Polish refugees with whom Paris was swarming, Chopin
had another more prosaic but not less potent cause of disquietude and
sadness. His pecuniary circumstances were by no means brilliant. Economy
cannot fill a slender purse, still less can a badly-attended concert do
so, and Chopin was loath to be a burden on his parents who, although in
easy circumstances, were not wealthy, and whose income must have been
considerably lessened by some of the consequences of the insurrection,
such as the closing of schools, general scarcity of money, and so forth.
Nor was Paris in 1831, when people were so busy with politics, El Dorado
for musicians. Of the latter, Mendelssohn wrote at the time that they
did not, like other people, wrangle about politics, but lamented over
them. "One has lost his place, another his title, and a third his money,
and they say this all proceeds from the 'juste milieu.'" As Chopin saw
no prospect of success in Paris he began to think, like others of his
countrymen, of going to America. His parents, however, were against this
project, and advised him either to stay where he was and wait for better
things, or to return to Warsaw. Although he might fear annoyances from
the Russian government on account of his not renewing his passport
before the expiration of the time for which it was granted, he chose
the latter alternative. Destiny, however, had decided the matter
otherwise.[FOOTNOTE: Karasowski says that Liszt, Hiller, and Sowinski
dissuaded him from leaving Paris. Liszt and Hiller both told me, and
so did also Franchomme, that they knew nothing of Chopin having had any
such intention; and Sowinski does not mention the circumstance in his
Musiciens polonais.] One day, or, as some will have it, on the very day
when he was preparing for his departure, Chopin met in the street Prince
Valentine Radziwill, and, in the course of the conversation which the
latter opened, informed him of his intention of leaving Paris. The
Prince, thinking, no doubt, of the responsibility he would incur by
doing so, did not attempt to dissuade him, but engaged the artist to go
with him in the evening to Rothschild's. Chopin, who of course was asked
by the hostess to play something, charmed by his wonderful performance,
and no doubt also by his refined manners, the brilliant company
assembled there to such a degree that he carried off not only a
plentiful harvest of praise and compliments, but also some offers of
pupils. Supposing the story to be true, we could easily believe that
this soiree was the turning-point in Chopin's career, but nevertheless
might hesitate to assert that it changed his position "as if by
enchantment." I said "supposing the story to be true," because, although
it has been reported that Chopin was fond of alluding to this incident,
his best friends seem to know nothing of it: Liszt does not mention
it, Hiller and Franchomme told me they never heard of it, and
notwithstanding Karasowski's contrary statement there is nothing to be
found about it in Sowinski's Musiciens polonais. Still, the story may
have a substratum of truth, to arrive at which it has only to be shorn
of its poetical accessories and exaggerations, of which, however, there
is little in my version.
But to whatever extent, or whether to any extent at all, this or any
similar soiree may have served Chopin as a favourable introduction to
a wider circle of admirers and patrons, and as a stepping-stone to
success, his indebtedness to his countrymen, who from the very first
befriended and encouraged him, ought not to be forgotten or passed over
in silence for the sake of giving point to a pretty anecdote. The great
majority of the Polish refugees then living in Paris would of course
rather require than be able to afford help and furtherance, but there
was also a not inconsiderable minority of persons of noble birth and
great wealth whose patronage and influence could not but be of immense
advantage to a struggling artist. According to Liszt, Chopin was on
intimate terms with the inmates of the Hotel Lambert, where old Prince
Adam Czartoryski and his wife and daughter gathered around them "les
debris de la Pologne que la derniere guerre avait jetes au loin." Of the
family of Count Plater and other compatriots with whom the composer had
friendly intercourse we shall speak farther on. Chopin's friends were
not remiss in exerting themselves to procure him pupils and good fees at
the same time. They told all inquirers that he gave no lesson for less
than twenty francs, although he had expressed his willingness to be at
first satisfied with more modest terms. Chopin had neither to wait in
vain nor to wait long, for in about a year's time he could boast of a
goodly number of pupils.
The reader must have noticed with surprise the absence of any mention of
the "Ideal" from Chopin's letters to his friend Titus Woyciechowski,
to whom the love-sick artist was wont to write so voluminously on this
theme. How is this strange silence to be accounted for? Surely this
passionate lover could not have forgotten her beneath whose feet he
wished his ashes to be spread after his death? But perhaps in the end
of 1831 he had already learnt what was going to happen in the following
year. The sad fact has to be told: inconstant Constantia Gladkowska
married a merchant of the name of Joseph Grabowski, at Warsaw, in
1832; this at least is the information given in Sowinski's biographical
dictionary Les musiciens polonais et slaves.[FOOTNOTE: According to
Count Wodzinski she married a country gentleman, and subsequently became
blind.] As the circumstances of the case and the motives of the parties
are unknown to me, and as a biographer ought not to take the same
liberties as a novelist, I shall neither expatiate on the fickleness
and mercenariness of woman, nor attempt to describe the feelings of our
unfortunate hero robbed of his ideal, but leave the reader to make his
own reflections and draw his own moral.
On August 2, 1832, Chopin wrote a letter to Hiller, who had gone in
the spring of the year to Germany. What the young Pole thought of this
German brother-artist may be gathered from some remarks of his in the
letter to Titus Woyciechowski dated December 16, 1831:--
The concert of the good Hiller, who is a pupil of Hummel and
a youth of great talent, came off very successfully the day
before yesterday. A symphony of his was received with much
applause. He has taken Beethoven for his model, and his work
is full of poesy and inspiration.
Since then the two had become more intimate, seeing each other almost
every day, Chopin, as Osborne relates, being always in good spirits when
Hiller was with him. The bearer of the said letter was Mr. Johns, to
whom the five Mazurkas, Op. 7, are dedicated, and whom Chopin introduced
to Hiller as "a distinguished amateur of New Orleans." After warmly
recommending this gentleman, he excuses himself for not having
acknowledged the receipt of his friend's letter, which procured him the
pleasure of Paul Mendelssohn's acquaintance, and then proceeds:--
Your trios, my dear friend, have been finished for a long
time, and, true to my character of a glutton, I have gulped
down your manuscripts into my repertoire. Your concerto will
be performed this month by Adam's pupils at the examination
of the Conservatoire. Mdlle. Lyon plays it very well. La
Tentation, an opera-ballet by Halevy and Gide, has not
tempted any one of good taste, because it has just as little
interest as your German Diet harmony with the spirit of the
age. Maurice, who has returned from London, whither he had
gone for the mise en scene of Robert (which has not had a
very great success), has assured us that Moscheles and Field
will come to Paris for the winter. This is all the news I
have to give you. Osborne has been in London for the last two
months. Pixis is at Boulogne. Kalkbrenner is at Meudon,
Rossini at Bordeaux. All who know you await you with open
arms. Liszt will add a few words below. Farewell, dear
friend.
Yours most truly,
F. CHOPIN.
Paris, 2/8/32