1832-1834.
CHOPIN'S SUCCESS IN SOCIETY AND AS A TEACHER.--VARIOUS CONCERTS AT
WHICH HE PLAYED.--A LETTER FROM CHOPIN AND LISZT TO HILLER.--SOME OF
HIS FRIENDS.--STRANGE BEHAVIOUR.--A LETTER TO
FRANCHOMME.--CHOPIN'S RESERVE.--SOME TRAITS OF THE POLISH
CHARACTER.--FIELD.--BERLIOZ.--NEO-ROMANTICISM AND CHOPIN'S RELATION TO
IT.--WHAT INFLUENCE HAD LISZT ON CHOPIN'S DEVELOPMENT--PUBLICATION OF
WORKS.--THE CRITICS.--INCREASING POPULARITY.--JOURNEY IN THE COMPANY OF
HILLER TO AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.--A DAY AT DUSSELDORF WITH MENDELSSOHN.
IN the season 1832-1833 Chopin took his place as one of the acknowledged
pianistic luminaries of the French capital, and began his activity as a
professor par excellence of the aristocracy. "His distinguished manners,
his exquisite politeness, his studied and somewhat affected refinement
in all things, made Chopin the model professor of the fashionable
nobility." Thus Chopin is described by a contemporary. Now he shall
describe himself. An undated letter addressed to his friend Dominic
Dziewanowski, which, judging from an allusion to the death of the
Princess Vaudemont, [FOOTNOTE: In a necrology contained in the Moniteur
of January 6, 1833, she is praised for the justesse de son esprit, and
described as naive et vraie comme une femme du peuple, genereuse comme
une grande dame. There we find it also recorded that she saved M.
de Vitrolles pendant les Cent-jours, et M. de Lavalette sous la
Restoration.] must have been written about the second week of January,
1833, gives much interesting information concerning the writer's tastes
and manners, the degree of success he had obtained, and the kind of life
he was leading. After some jocular remarks on his long silence--remarks
in which he alludes to recollections of Szafarnia and the sincerity of
their friendship, and which he concludes with the statement that he is
so much in demand on all sides as to betorn to pieces--Chopin proceeds
thus:--
I move in the highest society--among ambassadors, princes,
and ministers; and I don't know how I got there, for I did
not thrust myself forward at all. But for me this is at
present an absolute necessity, for thence comes, as it were,
good taste. You are at once credited with more talent if you
are heard at a soiree of the English or Austrian
Ambassador's. Your playing is finer if the Princess Vaudemont
patronises you. "Patronises" I cannot properly say, for the
good old woman died a week ago. She was a lady who reminded
me of the late Kasztelanowa Polaniecka, received at her house
the whole Court, was very charitable, and gave refuge to many
aristocrats in the days of terror of the first revolution.
She was the first who presented herself after the days of
July at the Court of Louis Philippe, although she belonged to
the Montmorency family (the elder branch), whose last
descendant she was. She had always a number of black and
white pet dogs, canaries, and parrots about her; and
possessed also a very droll little monkey, which was
permitted even to... bite countesses and princesses.
Among the Paris artists I enjoy general esteem and
friendship, although I have been here only a year. A proof of
this is that men of great reputation dedicate their
compositions to me, and do so even before I have paid them
the same compliment--for instance, Pixis his last Variations
for orchestra. He is now even composing variations on a theme
of mine. Kalkbrenner improvises frequently on my mazurkas.
Pupils of the Conservatoire, nay, even private pupils of
Moscheles, Herz, and Kalkbrenner (consequently clever
artists), still take lessons from me, and regard me as the
equal of Field. Really, if I were somewhat more silly than I
am, I might imagine myself already a finished artist;
nevertheless, I feel daily how much I have still to learn,
and become the more conscious of it through my intercourse
with the first artists here, and my perception of what every
one, even of them, is lacking in. But I am quite ashamed of
myself for what I have written just now, having praised
myself like a child. I would erase it, but I have no time to
write another letter. Moreover, you will remember my
character as it formerly was; indeed, I have remained quite
the same, only with this one difference, that I have now
whiskers on one side--unfortunately they won't grow at all on
the other side. To-day I have to give five lessons; you will
imagine that I must soon have made a fortune, but the
cabriolet and the white gloves eat the earnings almost up,
and without these things people would deny my bon ton. I love
the Carlists, hate the Philippists, and am myself a
revolutionist; therefore I don't care for money, but only for
friendship, for the preservation of which I earnestly entreat
you.
This letter, and still more the letters which I shall presently
transcribe, afford irrefragable evidence of the baselessness of the
often-heard statement that Chopin's intercourse was in the first years
of his settlement in Paris confined to the Polish salons. The simple
unexaggerated truth is that Chopin had always a predilection for, and
felt more at home among, his compatriots.
In the winter 1832-1833 Chopin was heard frequently in public. At a
concert of Killer's (December 15, 1832) he performed with Liszt and the
concert-giver a movement of Bach's Concerto for three pianos, the three
artists rendering the piece "avec une intelligence de son caractere et
une delicatesse parfaite." Soon after Chopin and Liszt played between
the acts of a dramatic performance got up for the benefit of Miss
Smithson, the English actress and bankrupt manager, Berlioz's flame,
heroine of his "Episode de la vie d'un artiste," and before long his
wife. On April 3, 1833, Chopin assisted at a concert given by the
brothers Herz, taking part along with them and Liszt in a quartet
for eight hands on two pianos. M. Marmontel, in his silhouette of the
pianist and critic Amedee de Mereaux, mentions that in 1832 this artist
twice played with Chopin a duo of his own on "Le Pre aux Clercs," but
leaves us in uncertainty as to whether they performed it at public
concerts or private parties. M. Franchomme told me that he remembered
something about a concert given by Chopin in 1833 at the house of one of
his aristocratic friends, perhaps at Madame la Marechale de Lannes's! In
summing up, as it were, Chopin's activity as a virtuoso, I may make use
of the words of the Paris correspondent of the "Allgemeine musikalische
Zeitung," who reports in April, 1833, that "Chopin and Osborne, as well
as the other celebrated masters, delight the public frequently." In
short, Chopin was becoming more and more of a favourite, not, however,
of the democracy of large concert-halls, but of the aristocracy of
select salons.
The following letter addressed to Hiller, written by Chopin and Liszt,
and signed by them and Franchomme, brings together Chopin's most
intimate artist friends, and spreads out before us a vivid picture of
their good fellowship and the society in which they moved. I have put
the portions written by Liszt within brackets [within parentheses in
this e-text]. Thus the reader will see what belongs to each of the
two writers, and how they took the pen out of each other's hand in the
middle of a phrase and even of a word. With regard to this letter I have
further to remark that Hiller, who was again in Germany, had lately lost
his father:--
{This is at least the twentieth time that we have made
arrangements to meet, sometimes at my house, sometimes here,
[Footnote: At Chopin's lodgings mentioned farther on.] with
the intention of writing to you, and some visit, or other
unexpected hindrance, has always prevented us from doing
so!...I don't know whether Chopin will be able to make any
excuses to you; as regards myself it seems to me that we have
been so excessively rude and impertinent that excuses are no
longer either admissible or possible.
We have sympathised deeply with you in your sorrow, and
longed to be with you in order to alleviate as much as
possible the pangs of your heart.}
He has expressed himself so well that I have nothing to add
in excuse of my negligence or idleness, influenza or
distraction, or, or, or--you know I explain myself better in
person; and when I escort you home to your mother's house
this autumn, late at night along the boulevards, I shall try
to obtain your pardon. I write to you without knowing what my
pen is scribbling, because Liszt is at this moment playing my
studies and transports me out of my proper senses. I should
like to rob him of his way of rendering my own studies. As to
your friends who are in Paris, I have seen the Leo family and
their set [Footnote: Chopin's words are et qui s'en suit.' He
refers, no doubt, to the Valentin family, relations of the
Leos, who lived in the same house with them.] frequently this
winter and spring. There have been some soirees at the houses
of certain ambassadresses, and there was not one in which
mention was not made of some one who is at Frankfort. Madame
Eichthal sends you a thousand compliments. The whole Plater
family were much grieved at your departure, and asked me to
express to you their sympathy. (Madame d'Appony has quite a
grudge against me for not having taken you to her house
before your departure; she hopes that when you return you
will remember the promise you made me. I may say as much from
a certain lady who is not an ambassadress. [Footnote: This
certain lady was the Countess d'Agoult.]
Do you know Chopin's wonderful studies?) They are admirable--
and yet they will only last till the moment yours appear (a
little bit of authorial modesty!!!). A little bit of rudeness
on the part of the tutor--for, to explain the matter better
to you, he corrects my orthographical mistakes (after the
fashion of M. Marlet.
You will come back to us in the month of September, will you
not? Try to let us know the day as we have resolved to give
you a serenade (or charivari). The most distinguished artists
of the capital--M. Franchomme (present), Madame Petzold, and
the Abbe Bardin, the coryphees of the Rue d'Amboise (and my
neighbours), Maurice Schlesinger, uncles, aunts, nephews,
nieces, brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, &c., &c.) en plan du
troisieme, &c. [Footnote: I give the last words in the
original French, because I am not sure of their meaning.
Hiller, to whom I applied for an explanation, was unable to
help me. Perhaps Chopin uses here the word plan in the
pictorial sense (premier plan, foreground; second plan,
middle distance).]
The responsible editors,
(F. LISZT.) F. CHOPIN. (Aug. FRANCHOMME.)
A Propos, I met Heine yesterday, who asked me to grussen you
herzlich und herzlich. [Footnote: To greet you heartily and
heartily.] A propos again, pardon me for all the "you's"--I
beg you to forgive me them. If you have a moment to spare let
us have news of you, which is very precious to us.
Paris: Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, No. 5.
At present I occupy Franck's lodgings--he has set out for
London and Berlin; I feel quite at home in the rooms which
were so often our place of meeting. Berlioz embraces you. As
to pere Baillot, he is in Switzerland, at Geneva, and so you
will understand why I cannot send you Bach's Concerto.
June 20, 1833.
Some of the names that appear in this letter will give occasion
for comment. Chopin, as Hiller informed me, went frequently to the
ambassadors Appony and Von Kilmannsegge, and still more frequently to
his compatriots, the Platers. At the house of the latter much good music
was performed, for the countess, the Pani Kasztelanowa (the wife of the
castellan), to whom Liszt devotes an eloquent encomium, "knew how to
welcome so as to encourage all the talents that then promised to take
their upward flight and form une lumineuse pleiade," being
in turn fairy, nurse, godmother, guardian angel, delicate
benefactress, knowing all that threatens, divining all that
saves, she was to each of us an amiable protectress, equally
beloved and respected, who enlightened, warmed, and elevated
his [Chopin's] inspiration, and left a blank in his life when
she was no more.
It was she who said one day to Chopin: "Si j'etais jeune et jolie, mon
petit Chopin, je te prendrais pour mari, Hiller pour ami, et Liszt
pour amant." And it was at her house that the interesting contention of
Chopin with Liszt and Hiller took place. The Hungarian and the German
having denied the assertion of the Pole that only he who was born and
bred in Poland, only he who had breathed the perfume of her fields and
woods, could fully comprehend with heart and mind Polish national music,
the three agreed to play in turn, by way of experiment, the mazurka
"Poland is not lost yet." Liszt began, Hiller followed, and Chopin came
last and carried off the palm, his rivals admitting that they had not
seized the true spirit of the music as he had done. Another anecdote,
told me by Hiller, shows how intimate the Polish artist was with this
family of compatriots, the Platers, and what strange whims he sometimes
gave way to. One day Chopin came into the salon acting the part of
Pierrot, and, after jumping and dancing about for an hour, left without
having spoken a single word.
Abbe Bardin was a great musical amateur, at whose weekly afternoon
gatherings the best artists might be seen and heard, Mendelssohn among
the rest when he was in Paris in 1832-1833. In one of the many obituary
notices of Chopin which appeared in French and other papers, and which
are in no wise distinguished by their trustworthiness, I found the
remark that the Abbe Bardin and M.M. Tilmant freres were the first to
recognise Chopin's genius. The notice in question is to be found in the
Chronique Musicale of November 3, 1849.
In Franck, whose lodgings Chopin had taken, the reader will recognise
the "clever [geistreiche], musical Dr. Hermann Franck," the friend of
many musical and other celebrities, the same with whom Mendelssohn used
to play at chess during his stay in Paris. From Hiller I learned
that Franck was very musical, and that his attainments in the natural
sciences were considerable; but that being well-to-do he was without
a profession. In the fifth decade of this century he edited for a year
Brockhaus's Deutsche allgemeine Zeitung.
In the following letter which Chopin wrote to Franchomme--the latter
thinks in the autumn of 1833--we meet with some new names. Dr. Hoffmann
was a good friend of the composer's, and was frequently found at his
rooms smoking. I take him to have been the well-known litterateur
Charles Alexander Hoffmann, [Footnote: This is the usual German, French,
and English spelling. The correct Polish spelling is Hofman. The forms
Hoffman and Hofmann occur likewise.] the husband of Clementina Tanska,
a Polish refugee who came to Paris in 1832 and continued to reside there
till 1848. Maurice is of course Schlesinger the publisher. Of Smitkowski
I know only that he was one of Chopin's Polish friends, whose list
is pretty long and comprised among others Prince Casimir Lubomirski,
Grzymala, Fontana, and Orda.
[Footnote: Of Grzymala and Fontana more will be heard in the sequel.
Prince Casimir Lubomirski was a passionate lover of music, and published
various compositions. Liszt writes that Orda, "who seemed to command a
future," was killed at the age of twenty in Algiers. Karasowski gives
the same information, omitting, however, the age. My inquiries about
Orda among French musicians and Poles have had no result. Although the
data do not tally with those of Liszt and Karasowski, one is tempted to
identify Chopin's friend with the Napoleon Orda mentioned in Sowinski's
Musiciens polonais et slaves--"A pianist-composer who had made himself
known since the events of 1831. One owes to him the publication of a
Polish Album devoted to the composers of this nation, published at Paris
in 1838. M. Orda is the author of several elegantly-written pianoforte
works." In a memoir prefixed to an edition of Chopin's mazurkas and
waltzes (Boosey & Co.), J.W. Davison mentions a M. Orda (the "M."
stands, I suppose, for Monsieur) and Charles Filtsch as pupils of
Chopin.]
It was well for Chopin that he was so abundantly provided with friends,
for, as Hiller told me, he could not do without company. But here is
Chopin's letter to Franchomme:--
Begun on Saturday, the 14th, and finished on Wednesday, the
18th.
DEAR FRIEND,--It would be useless to excuse myself for my
silence. If my thoughts could but go without paper to the
post-office! However, you know me too well not to know that
I, unfortunately, never do what I ought to do. I got here
very comfortably (except for a little disagreeable episode,
caused by an excessively odoriferous gentleman who went as
far as Chartres--he surprised me in the night-time). I have
found more occupation in Paris than I left behind me, which
will, without doubt, hinder me from visiting you at Coteau.
Coteau! oh Coteau! Say, my child, to the whole family at
Coteau that I shall never forget my stay in Touraine--that so
much kindness has made me for ever grateful. People think I
am stouter and look very well, and I feel wonderfully well,
thanks to the ladies that sat beside me at dinner, who
bestowed truly maternal attentions upon me. When I think of
all this the whole appears to me such an agreeable dream that
I should like to sleep again. And the peasant-girls of
Pormic! [FOOTNOTE: A village near the place where Chopin had
been staying.] and the flour! or rather your graceful nose
which you were obliged to plunge into it.
[FOOTNOTE: The remark about the "flour" and Franchomme's "nez
en forme gracieuse" is an allusion to some childish game in
which Chopin, thanks to his aquiline nose, got the better of
his friend, who as regards this feature was less liberally
endowed.]
A very interesting visit has interrupted my letter, which was
begun three days ago, and which I have not been able to
finish till to-day.
Hiller embraces you, Maurice, and everybody. I have delivered
your note to his brother, whom I did not find at home.
Paer, whom I saw a few days ago, spoke to me of your return.
Come back to us stout and in good health like me. Again a
thousand messages to the estimable Forest family. I have
neither words nor powers to express all I feel for them.
Excuse me. Shake hands with me--I pat you on the shoulder--I
hug you--I embrace you. My friend--au revoir.
Hoffmann, the stout Hoffmann, and the slim Smitkowski also,
embrace you.
[FOOTNOTE: The orthography of the French original is very
careless. Thus one finds frequent omissions and misplacements
of accents and numerous misspellings, such as trouvais
instead of trouve, engresse instead of engraisse, plonge
instead of plonger. Of course, these mistakes have to be
ascribed to negligence not to ignorance. I must mention yet
another point which the English translation does not bring
out--namely, that in addressing Franchomme Chopin makes use
of the familiar form of the second person singular.]
The last-quoted letter adds a few more touches to the portraiture
of Chopin which has been in progress in the preceding pages. The
insinuating affectionateness and winning playfulness had hitherto not
been brought out so distinctly. There was then, and there remained to
the end of his life, something of a woman and of a boy in this man. The
sentimental element is almost wholly absent from Chopin's letters to his
non-Polish friends. Even to Franchomme, the most intimate among these,
he shows not only less of his inmost feelings and thoughts than to Titus
Woyciechowski and John Matuszyriski, the friends of his youth, but also
less than to others of his countrymen whose acquaintance he made
later in life, and of whom Grzymala may be instanced. Ready to give
everything, says Liszt, Chopin did not give himself--
his most intimate acquaintances did not penetrate into the
sacred recess where, apart from the rest of his life, dwelt
the secret spring of his soul: a recess so well concealed
that one hardly suspected its existence.
Indeed, you could as little get hold of Chopin as, to use L. Enault's
expression, of the scaly back of a siren. Only after reading his letters
to the few confidants to whom he freely gave his whole self do we know
how little of himself he gave to the generality of his friends, whom he
pays off with affectionateness and playfulness, and who, perhaps, never
suspected, or only suspected, what lay beneath that smooth surface.
This kind of reserve is a feature of the Slavonic character, which in
Chopin's individuality was unusually developed.
The Slavonians [says Enault pithily] lend themselves, they do
not give themselves; and, as if Chopin had wished to make his
country-men pardon him the French origin of his family, he
showed himself more Polish than Poland.
Liszt makes some very interesting remarks on this point, and as they
throw much light on the character of the race, and on that of the
individual with whom we are especially concerned in this book, I shall
quote them:--
With the Slavonians, the loyalty and frankness, the
familiarity and captivating desinvoltura of their manners, do
not in the least imply trust and effusiveness. Their feelings
reveal and conceal themselves like the coils of a serpent
convoluted upon itself; it is only by a very attentive
examination that one discovers the connection of the rings.
It would be naive to take their complimentary politeness,
their pretended modesty literally. The forms of this
politeness and this modesty belong to their manners, which
bear distinct traces of their ancient relations with the
East. Without being in the least infected by Mussulmanic
taciturnity, the Slavonians have learned from it a defiant
reserve on all subjects which touch the intimate chords of
the heart. One may be almost certain that, in speaking of
themselves, they maintain with regard to their interlocutor
some reticence which assures them over him an advantage of
intelligence or of feeling, leaving him in ignorance of some
circumstance or some secret motive by which they would be the
most admired or the least esteemed; they delight in hiding
themselves behind a cunning interrogatory smile of
imperceptible mockery. Having on every occasion a taste for
the pleasure of mystification, from the most witty and droll
to the most bitter and lugubrious kinds, one would say that
they see in this mocking deceit a form of disdain for the
superiority which they inwardly adjudge to themselves, but
which they veil with the care and cunning of the oppressed.
And now we will turn our attention once more to musical matters. In the
letter to Hiller (August 2, 1832) Chopin mentioned the coming of Field
and Moscheles, to which, no doubt, he looked forward with curiosity.
They were the only eminent pianists whom he had not yet heard.
Moscheles, however, seems not to have gone this winter to Paris; at any
rate, his personal acquaintance with the Polish artist did not begin
till 1839. Chopin, whose playing had so often reminded people of
Field's, and who had again and again been called a pupil of his, would
naturally take a particular interest in this pianist. Moreover, he
esteemed him very highly as a composer. Mikuli tells us that Field's
A flat Concerto and nocturnes were among those compositions which he
delighted in playing (spielte mit Vorliebe). Kalkbrenner is reported
[FOOTNOTE: In the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung of April 3, 1833.] to
have characterised Field's performances as quite novel and incredible;
and Fetis, who speaks of them in the highest terms, relates that on
hearing the pianist play a concerto of his own composition, the public
manifested an indescribable enthusiasm, a real delirium. Not all
accounts, however, are equally favourable.
[FOOTNOTE: In the Revue musicale of December 29, 1832. The criticism is
worth reproducing:--"Quiconque n'a point entendu ce grand pianiste ne
peut se faire d'idee du mecanisme admirable de ses doigts, mecanisme tel
que les plus grandes difficultes semblent etre des choses fort simples,
et que sa main n'a point l'air de se mouvoir. Il n'est d'ailleurs pas
mains etonnant dans l'art d'attaquer la note et de varier a l'infini
les diverses nuances de force, de douceur et d'accent. Un enthousiasme
impossible a decrire, un veritable delire s'est manifeste dans le public
a l'audition de ce concerto plein de charme rendu avec une perfection de
fini, de precision, de nettete et d'expression qu'il serait impossible
de surpasser et que bien peu de pianistes pourraient egaler." Of a MS.
concerto played by Field at his second concert, given on February 3,
1833, Fetis says that it is "diffus, peu riche en motifs heureux, peu
digne, en un mot, de la renommee de son auteur," but "la delicieuse
execution de M. Field nous a tres-heureusement servi de compensation"]
Indeed, the contradictory criticisms to be met with in books and
newspapers leave on the reader the impression that Field disappointed
the expectations raised by his fame. The fact that the second concert
he gave was less well attended than the first cannot but confirm this
impression. He was probably no longer what he had been; and the reigning
pianoforte style and musical taste were certainly no longer what they
had been. "His elegant playing and beautiful manner of singing on the
piano made people admire his talent," wrote Fetis at a later period (in
his "Biographie universelle des Musiciens"), "although his execution had
not the power of the pianists of the modern school." It is not at
all surprising that the general public and the younger generation of
artists, more especially the romanticists, were not unanimously moved
to unbounded enthusiasm by "the clear limpid flow" and "almost somnolent
tranquillity" of Field's playing, "the placid tenderness, graceful
candour, and charming ingenuousness of his melodious reveries." This
characterisation of Field's style is taken from Liszt's preface to the
nocturnes. Moscheles, with whom Field dined in London shortly before
the latter's visit to Paris, gives in his diary a by no means flattering
account of him. Of the man, the diarist says that he is good-natured but
not educated and rather droll, and that there cannot be a more glaring
contrast than that between Field's nocturnes and Field's manners, which
were often cynical. Of the artist, Moscheles remarks that while his
touch was admirable and his legato entrancing, his playing lacked spirit
and accent, light and shadow, and depth of feeling. M. Marmontel was
not far wrong when, before having heard Field, he regarded him as the
forerunner of Chopin, as a Chopin without his passion, sombre reveries,
heart-throes, and morbidity. The opinions which the two artists had of
each other and the degree of their mutual sympathy and antipathy may be
easily guessed. We are, however, not put to the trouble of guessing all.
Whoever has read anything about Chopin knows of course Field's criticism
of him--namely, that he was "un talent de chambre de malade," which,
by the by, reminds one of a remark of Auber's, who said that Chopin was
dying all his life (il se meurt tonte sa vie). It is a pity that we
have not, as a pendant to Field's criticism on Chopin, one of Chopin on
Field. But whatever impression Chopin may have received from the artist,
he cannot but have been repelled by the man. And yet the older artist's
natural disposition was congenial to that of the younger one, only
intemperate habits had vitiated it. Spohr saw Field in 1802-1803, and
describes him as a pale, overgrown youth, whose dreamy, melancholy
playing made people forget his awkward bearing and badly-fitting
clothes. One who knew Field at the time of his first successes portrays
him as a young man with blonde hair, blue eyes, fair complexion, and
pleasing features, expressive of the mood of the moment--of child-like
ingenuousness, modest good-nature, gentle roguishness, and artistic
aspiration. M. Marmontel, who made his acquaintance in 1832, represents
him as a worn-out, vulgar-looking man of fifty, whose outward appearance
contrasted painfully with his artistic performances, and whose heavy,
thick-set form in conjunction with the delicacy and dreaminess of his
musical thoughts and execution called to mind Rossini's saying of a
celebrated singer, "Elle a l'air d'un elephant qui aurait avale un
rossignol." One can easily imagine the surprise and disillusion of
the four pupils of Zimmermann--MM. Marmontel, Prudent, A. Petit, and
Chollet--who, provided with a letter of introduction by their master,
called on Field soon after his arrival in Paris and beheld the great
pianist--
in a room filled with tobacco smoke, sitting in an easy
chair, an enormous pipe in his mouth, surrounded by large and
small bottles of all sorts [entoure de chopes et bouteilles
de toutes provenances]. His rather large head, his highly-
coloured cheeks, his heavy features gave a Falstaff-like
appearance to his physiognomy.
Notwithstanding his tipsiness, he received the young gentlemen kindly,
and played to them two studies by Cramer and Clementi "with rare
perfection, admirable finish, marvellous agility, and exquisiteness
of touch." Many anecdotes might be told of Field's indolence and
nonchalance; for instance, how he often fell asleep while giving his
lessons, and on one occasion was asked whether he thought he was paid
twenty roubles for allowing himself to be played to sleep; or, how, when
his walking-stick had slipped out of his hand, he waited till some one
came and picked it up; or, how, on finding his dress-boots rather tight,
he put on slippers, and thus appeared in one of the first salons of
Paris and was led by the mistress of the house, the Duchess Decazes, to
the piano--but I have said enough of the artist who is so often named in
connection with Chopin.
From placid Field to volcanic Berlioz is an enormous distance, which,
however, we will clear at one leap, and do it too without hesitation or
difficulty. For is not leaping the mind's natural mode of locomotion,
and walking an artificially-acquired and rare accomplishment? Proceeding
step by step we move only with more or less awkwardness, but aided by
ever so slight an association of ideas we bound with the greatest ease
from any point to any other point of infinitude. Berlioz returned to
Paris in the latter part of 1832, and on the ninth of December of that
year gave a concert at which he produced among other works his "Episode
de la vie d'un artiste" (Part I.--"Symphonic fantastique," for the
second time; Part II--"Lelio, ou le retour a la vie," for the first
time), the subject of which is the history of his love for Miss
Smithson. Chopin, no doubt, made Berlioz's acquaintance through Liszt,
whose friendship with the great French symphonic composer dated from
before the latter's departure for Italy. The characters of Chopin and
Berlioz differed too much for a deep sympathy to exist between
them; their connection was indeed hardly more than a pleasant social
companionship. Liszt tells us that the constant intercourse with
Berlioz, Hiller, and other celebrities who were in the habit of saying
smart things, developed Chopin's natural talent for incisive remarks,
ironical answers, and ambiguous speeches. Berlioz. I think, had more
affection for Chopin than the latter for Berlioz.
But it is much more the artistic than the social attitude taken up by
Chopin towards Berlioz and romanticism which interests us. Has Liszt
correctly represented it? Let us see. It may be accepted as in the main
true that the nocturnes of Field, [Footnote: In connection with this,
however, Mikuli's remark has to be remembered.] the sonatas of
Dussek, and the "noisy virtuosities and decorative expressivities" of
Kalkbrenner were either insufficient for or antipathetic to Chopin; and
it is plainly evident that he was one of those who most perseveringly
endeavoured to free themselves from the servile formulas of the
conventional style and repudiated the charlatanisms that only replace
old abuses by new ones. On the other hand, it cannot be said that
he joined unreservedly those who, seeing the fire of talent devour
imperceptibly the old worm-eaten scaffolding, attached themselves to
the school of which Berlioz was the most gifted, valiant, and daring
representative, nor that, as long as the campaign of romanticism
lasted, he remained invariable in his predilections and repugnances.
The promptings of his genius taught Chopin that the practice of any one
author or set of authors, whatever their excellence might be, ought not
to be an obligatory rule for their successors. But while his individual
requirements led him to disregard use and wont, his individual taste set
up a very exclusive standard of his own. He adopted the maxims of the
romanticists, but disapproved of almost all the works of art in which
they were embodied. Or rather, he adopted their negative teaching, and
like them broke and threw off the trammels of dead formulas; but at the
same time he rejected their positive teaching, and walked apart from
them. Chopin's repugnance was not confined only to the frantic side and
the delirious excesses of romanticism as Liszt thinks. He presents to
us the strange spectacle of a thoroughly romantic and emphatically
unclassical composer who has no sympathy either with Berlioz and Liszt,
or with Schumann and other leaders of romanticism, and the object of
whose constant and ardent love and admiration was Mozart, the purest
type of classicism. But the romantic, which Jean Paul Richter defined
as "the beautiful without limitation, or the beautiful infinite" [das
Schone ohne Begrenzung, oder das schone Unendliche], affords more
scope for wide divergence, and allows greater freedom in the display of
individual and national differences, than the classical.
Chopin's and Berlioz's relative positions may be compared to those of
V. Hugo and Alfred de Musset, both of whom were undeniably romanticists,
and yet as unlike as two authors can be. For a time Chopin was carried
away by Liszt's and Killer's enthusiasm for Berlioz, but he soon retired
from his championship, as Musset from the Cenacle. Franchomme thought
this took place in 1833, but perhaps he antedated this change of
opinion. At any rate, Chopin told him that he had expected better things
from Berlioz, and declared that the latter's music justified any man
in breaking off all friendship with him. Some years afterwards, when
conversing with his pupil Gutmann about Berlioz, Chopin took up a pen,
bent back the point of it, and then let it rebound, saying: "This is the
way Berlioz composes--he sputters the ink over the pages of ruled paper,
and the result is as chance wills it." Chopin did not like the works of
Victor Hugo, because he felt them to be too coarse and violent. And this
may also have been his opinion of Berlioz's works. No doubt he spurned
Voltaire's maxim, "Le gout n'est autre chose pour la poesie que ce
qu'il est pour les ajustements des femmes," and embraced V. Hugo's
countermaxim, "Le gout c'est la raison du genie"; but his delicate,
beauty-loving nature could feel nothing but disgust at what has been
called the rehabilitation of the ugly, at such creations, for instance,
as Le Roi s'amuse and Lucrece Borgia, of which, according to their
author's own declaration, this is the essence:--
Take the most hideous, repulsive, and complete physical
deformity; place it where it stands out most prominently, in
the lowest, most subterraneous and despised story of the
social edifice; illuminate this miserable creature on all
sides by the sinister light of contrasts; and then give it a
soul, and place in that soul the purest feeling which is
bestowed on man, the paternal feeling. What will be the
result? This sublime feeling, intensified according to
certain conditions, will transform under your eyes the
degraded creature; the little being will become great; the
deformed being will become beautiful.--Take the most hideous,
repulsive, and complete moral deformity; place it where it
stands out most prominently, in the heart of a woman, with
all the conditions of physical beauty and royal grandeur
which give prominence to crime; and now mix with all this
moral deformity a pure feeling, the purest which woman can
feel, the maternal feeling; place a mother in your monster
and the monster will interest you, and the monster will make
you weep, and this creature which caused fear will cause
pity, and this deformed soul will become almost beautiful in
your eyes. Thus we have in Le Roi s'amuse paternity
sanctifying physical deformity; and in Lucrece Borgia
maternity purifying moral deformity. [FOOTNOTE: from Victor
Hugo's preface to "Lucrece Borgia."]
In fact, Chopin assimilated nothing or infinitely little of the ideas
that were surging around him. His ambition was, as he confided to his
friend Hiller, to become to his countrymen as a musician what Uhland was
to the Germans as a poet. Nevertheless, the intellectual activity of
the French capital and its tendencies had a considerable influence on
Chopin. They strengthened the spirit of independence in him, and were
potent impulses that helped to unfold his individuality in all its width
and depth. The intensification of thought and feeling, and the greater
fulness and compactness of his pianoforte style in his Parisian
compositions, cannot escape the attentive observer. The artist who
contributed the largest quotum of force to this impulse was probably
Liszt, whose fiery passions, indomitable energy, soaring enthusiasm,
universal tastes, and capacity of assimilation, mark him out as the very
opposite of Chopin. But, although the latter was undoubtedly stimulated
by Liszt's style of playing the piano and of writing for this
instrument, it is not so certain as Miss L. Ramann, Liszt's biographer,
thinks, that this master's influence can be discovered in many passages
of Chopin's music which are distinguished by a fiery and passionate
expression, and resemble rather a strong, swelling torrent than a
gently-gliding rivulet. She instances Nos. 9 and 12 of "Douze
Etudes," Op. 10; Nos. 11 and 12 of "Douze Etudes," Op. 25; No. 24 of
"Vingt-quatre Preludes," Op. 28; "Premier Scherzo," Op. 20; "Polonaise"
in A flat major, Op. 53; and the close of the "Nocturne" in A flat
major, Op. 32. All these compositions, we are told, exhibit Liszt's
style and mode of feeling. Now, the works composed by Chopin before he
came to Paris and got acquainted with Liszt comprise not only a sonata,
a trio, two concertos, variations, polonaises, waltzes, mazurkas, one
or more nocturnes, &c., but also--and this is for the question under
consideration of great importance--most of, if not all, the studies of
Op. 10, [FOOTNOTE: Sowinski says that Chopin brought with him to Paris
the MS. of the first book of his studies.] and some of Op. 25; and these
works prove decisively the inconclusiveness of the lady's argument. The
twelfth study of Op. 10 (composed in September, 1831) invalidates all
she says about fire, passion, and rushing torrents. In fact, no cogent
reason can be given why the works mentioned by her should not be the
outcome of unaided development.[FOONOTE: That is to say, development
not aided in the way indicated by Miss Ramann. Development can never
be absolutely unaided; it always presupposes conditions--external or
internal, physical or psychical, moral or intellectual--which induce
and promote it. What is here said may be compared with the remarks about
style and individuality on p. 214.] The first Scherzo alone might make
us pause and ask whether the new features that present themselves in
it ought not to be fathered on Liszt. But seeing that Chopin evolved so
much, why should he not also have evolved this? Moreover, we must keep
in mind that Liszt had, up to 1831, composed almost nothing of what in
after years was considered either by him or others of much moment,
and that his pianoforte style had first to pass through the state of
fermentation into which Paganini's, playing had precipitated it (in the
spring of 1831) before it was formed; on the other hand, Chopin arrived
in Paris with his portfolios full of masterpieces, and in possession of
a style of his own, as a player of his instrument as well as a writer
for it. That both learned from each other cannot be doubted; but the
exact gain of each is less easily determinable. Nevertheless, I think
I may venture to assert that whatever be the extent of Chopin's
indebtedness to Liszt, the latter's indebtedness to the former is
greater. The tracing of an influence in the works of a man of genius,
who, of course, neither slavishly imitates nor flagrantly appropriates,
is one of the most difficult tasks. If Miss Ramann had first noted
the works produced by the two composers in question before their
acquaintance began, and had carefully examined Chopin's early
productions with a view to ascertain his capability of growth, she
would have come to another conclusion, or, at least, have spoken less
confidently. [FOOTNOTE: Schumann, who in 1839 attempted to give a
history of Liszt's development (in the "Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik"),
remarked that when Liszt, on the one hand, was brooding over the most
gloomy fancies, and indifferent, nay, even blase, and, on the other
hand, laughing and madly daring, indulged in the most extravagant
virtuoso tricks, "the sight of Chopin, it seems, first brought him again
to his senses."]
It was not till 1833 that Chopin became known to the musical world as
a composer. For up to that time the "Variations," Op. 2, published in
1830, was the only work in circulation; the compositions previously
published in Warsaw--the "Rondo," Op. 1, and the "Rondeau a la Mazur,"
Op. 5--may be left out of account, as they did not pass beyond the
frontier of Poland till several years afterwards, when they were
published elsewhere. After the publication, in December, 1832, of Op. 6,
"Quatre Mazurkas," dedicated to Mdlle. la Comtesse Pauline Plater, and
Op. 7, "Cinq Mazurkas," dedicated to Mr. Johns, Chopin's compositions
made their appearance in quick succession. In the year 1833 were
published: in January, Op. 9, "Trois Nocturnes," dedicated to Mdme.
Camille Pleyel; in March, Op. 8, "Premier Trio," dedicated to M. le
Prince Antoine Radziwill; in July, Op. 10, "Douze Grandes Etudes,"
dedicated to Mr. Fr. Liszt; and Op. 11, "Grand Concerto" (in E minor),
dedicated to Mr. Fr. Kalkbrenner; and in November, Op. 12, "Variations
brillantes" (in B flat major), dedicated to Mdlle. Emma Horsford. In
1834 were published: in January, Op. 15, "Trois Nocturnes," dedicated
to Mr. Ferd. Hiller; in March, Op. 16, "Rondeau" (in E flat major),
dedicated to Mdlle. Caroline Hartmann; in April, Op. 13, "Grande
Fantaisie sur des airs polonais," dedicated to Mr. J. P. Pixis; and in
May, Op. 17, "Quatre Mazurkas," dedicated to Mdme. Lina Freppa; in June,
Op. 14, "Krakowiak, grand Rondeau de Concert," dedicated to Mdme.
la Princesse Adam Czartoryska; and Op. 18, "Grande Valse brillante,"
dedicated to Mdlle. Laura Horsford; and in October, Op. 19, "Bolero" (in
C major), dedicated to Mdme. la Comtesse E. de Flahault. [FOOTNOTE: The
dates given are those when the pieces, as far as I could ascertain, were
first heard of as published. For further information see "List of Works"
at the end of the second volume, where my sources of information are
mentioned, and the divergences of the different original editions, as
regards time of publication, are indicated.]
The "Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung" notices several of Chopin's
compositions with great praise in the course of 1833; in the year after
the notices became more frequent. But the critic who follows Chopin's
publications with the greatest attention and discusses them most fully
is Rellstab, the editor of the Iris. Unfortunately, he is not at all
favourably inclined towards the composer. He occasionally doles out a
little praise, but usually shows himself a spendthrift in censure and
abuse. His most frequent complaints are that Chopin strives too much
after originality, and that his music is unnecessarily difficult for the
hands. A few specimens of Rellstab's criticism may not be out of place
here. Of the "Mazurkas," Op. 7, he says:--
In the dances before us the author satisfies the passion [of
writing affectedly and unnaturally] to a loathsome excess. He
is indefatigable, and I might say inexhaustible [sic], in his
search for ear-splitting discords, forced transitions, harsh
modulations, ugly distortions of melody and rhythm.
Everything it is possible to think of is raked up to produce
the effect of odd originality, but especially strange keys,
the most unnatural positions of chords, the most perverse
combinations with regard to fingering.
After some more discussion of the same nature, he concludes thus:-- If
Mr. Chopin had shown this composition to a master, the latter would,
it is to be hoped, have torn it and thrown it at his feet, which we
hereby do symbolically.
In his review of the "Trois Nocturnes," Op. 9, occurs the following
pretty passage:--
Where Field smiles, Chopin makes a grinning grimace: where
Field sighs, Chopin groans; where Field shrugs his shoulders,
Chopin twists his whole body; where Field puts some seasoning
into the food, Chopin empties a handful of Cayenne
pepper...In short, if one holds Field's charming romances
before a distorting concave mirror, so that every delicate
expression becomes coarse, one gets Chopin's work...We
implore Mr. Chopin to return to nature.
I shall quote one more sentence; it is from a notice of the "Douze
Etudes," Op. 10:--
Those who have distorted fingers may put them right by
practising these studies; but those who have not, should not
play them, at least, not without having a surgeon at hand.
[FOOTNOTE: In the number of the Iris in which this criticism
appeared (No. 5 of Vol. V., 1834 Rellstab inserts the
following letter, which he says he received from Leipzig:--
"P. P.
"You are really a very bad man, and not worthy that God's
earth either knows (sic) or bears you. The King of Prussia
should have imprisoned you in a fortress; in that case he
would have removed from the world a rebel, a disturber of the
peace, and an infamous enemy of humanity, who probably will
yet be choked in his own blood. I have noticed a great number
of enemies, not only in Berlin, but in all towns which I
visited last summer on my artistic tour, especially very many
here in Leipzig, where I inform you of this, in order--that
you may in future change your disposition, and not act so
uncharitably towards others. Another bad, bad trick, and you
are done for! Do you understand me, you little man, you
loveless and partial dog of a critic, you musical snarler
[Schnurrbart], you Berlin wit-cracker [Witzenmacher], &c.
"Your most obedient Servant,
"CHOPIN."
To this Rellstab adds: "Whether Mr. Chopin has written this
letter himself, I do not know, and will not assert it, but
print the document that he may recognise or repudiate it."
The letter was not repudiated, but I do not think that it was
written by Chopin. Had he written a letter, he surely would
have written a less childish one, although the German might
not have been much better than that of the above. But my
chief reasons for doubting its genuineness are that Chopin
made no artistic tour in Germany after 1831, and is not known
to have visited Leipzig either in 1833 or 1834.]
However, we should not be too hard upon Rellstab, seeing that one of the
greatest pianists and best musicians of the time made in the same year
(in 1833, and not in 1831, as we read in Karasowski's book) an entry
in his diary, which expresses an opinion not very unlike his. Moscheles
writes thus:--
I like to employ some free hours in the evening in making
myself acquainted with Chopin's studies and his other
compositions, and find much charm in the originality and
national colouring of their motivi; but my fingers always
stumble over certain hard, inartistic, and to me
incomprehensible modulations, and the whole is often too
sweetish for my taste, and appears too little worthy of a man
and a trained musician.
And again--
I am a sincere admirer of Chopin's originality; he has
furnished pianists with matter of the greatest novelty and
attractiveness. But personally I dislike the artificial,
often forced modulations; my fingers stumble and fall over
such passages; however much I may practise them, I cannot
execute them without tripping.
The first criticism on Chopin's publications which I met with in the
French musical papers is one on the "Variations," Op. 12. It appeared in
the "Revue musicale" of January 26, 1834. After this his new works are
pretty regularly noticed, and always favourably. From what has been said
it will be evident that Karasowski made a mistake when he wrote that
Chopin's compositions began to find a wide circulation as early as the
year 1832.
Much sympathy has been undeservedly bestowed on the composer by many,
because they were under the impression that he had had to contend with
more than the usual difficulties. Now just the reverse was the case.
Most of his critics were well-disposed towards him, and his fame spread
fast. In 1834 (August 13) a writer in the "Allgemeine musikalische
Zeitung" remarks that Chopin had the good fortune to draw upon himself
sooner than others the attention not only of the pianists, although of
these particularly, but also of a number of the musicians generally. And
in 1836 even Rellstab, Chopin's most adverse critic, says: "We entertain
the hope of hearing a public performance of the Concerto [the second,
Op. 21] in the course of the winter, for now it is a point of honour for
every pianist to play Chopin." The composer, however, cannot be said to
have enjoyed popularity; his works were relished only by the few, not
by the many. Chopin's position as a pianist and composer at the point we
have reached in the history of his life (1833-1834) is well described by
a writer in the "Revue musicale" of May 15, 1834:--
Chopin [he says] has opened up for himself a new route, and
from the first moment of his appearance on the scene he has
taken so high a stand, both by his pianoforte-playing and by
his compositions for this instrument, that he is to the
multitude an inexplicable phenomenon which it looks on in
passing with astonishment, and which stupid egoism regards
with a smile of pity, while the small number of connoisseurs,
led by a sure judgment, rather by an instinct of progress
than by a reasoned sentiment of enjoyment, follow this artist
in his efforts and in his creations, if not closely, at least
at a distance, admiring him, learning from him, and trying to
imitate him. For this reason Chopin has not found a critic,
although his works are already known everywhere. They have
either excited equivocal smiles and have been disparaged, or
have provoked astonishment and an overflow of unlimited
praise; but nobody has as yet come forward to say in what
their peculiar character and merit consists, by what they are
distinguished from so many other compositions, what assigns
to them a superior rank, &c.
No important events are to be recorded of the season 1833-1834, but
that Chopin was making his way is shown by a passage from a letter which
Orlowski wrote to one of his friends in Poland:--
Chopin [he says] is well and strong; he turns the heads of
all the Frenchwomen, and makes the men jealous of him. He is
now the fashion, and the elegant world will soon wear gloves
a la Chopin, Only the yearning after his country consumes
him.
In the spring of 1834 Chopin took a trip to Aix-la-Chapelle, where
at Whitsuntide the Lower Rhenish Music Festival was held. Handel's
"Deborah," Mozart's Jupiter Symphony, and part of Beethoven's Ninth
were on the programme, and the baton was in the hand of Ferdinand Ries.
Hiller, who had written additional accompaniments to the oratorio and
translated the English words into German, had received an invitation
from the committee, and easily persuaded Chopin to accompany him.
But this plan very nearly came to naught. While they were making
preparations for the journey, news reached them that the festival was
postponed; and when a few days later they heard that it would take place
after all, poor Chopin was no longer able to go, having in the meantime
spent the money put aside for travelling expenses, probably given it
away to one of his needy countrymen, to whom, as Hiller says, his purse
was always open. But what was to be done now? Hiller did not like to
depart without his friend, and urged him to consider if he could not
contrive in one way or another to procure the requisite pecuniary
outfit. At last Chopin said he thought he could manage it, took the
manuscript of the Waltz in E flat (Op. 18), went with it to Pleyel, and
returned with 500 francs. [FOOTNOTE: I repeat Hiller's account without
vouching for its literal correctness, confining myself to the statement
that the work was in print on the 1st of June,1834, and published by
Schlesinger, of Paris, not by Pleyel.] Thus the barrier was removed, and
the friends set out for Aix-la-Chapelle. There Hiller was quartered in
the house of the burgomaster, and Chopin got a room close by. They
went without much delay to the rehearsal of "Deborah," where they met
Mendelssohn, who describes their meeting in a letter addressed to his
mother (Dusseldorf, May 23, 1834):--
On the first tier sat a man with a moustache reading the
score, and as he was coming downstairs after the rehearsal,
and I was going up, we met in the side-scenes, and Ferdinand
Hiller stumbled right into my arms, almost crushing me in his
joyful embrace. He had come from Paris to hear the oratorio,
and Chopin had left his pupils in the lurch and come with
him, and thus we met again. Now I had my full share of
pleasure in the musical festival, for we three now remained
together, got a box in the theatre (where the performances
are given) to ourselves, and as a matter of course betook
ourselves next morning to a piano, where I enjoyed myself
greatly. They have both still further developed their
execution, and Chopin is now one of the very first pianoforte-
players; he produces as novel effects as Paganini does on the
violin, and performs wonders which one would never have
imagined possible. Hiller, too, is an excellent player,
powerful and coquettish enough. Both are a little infected by
the Parisian mania for despondency and straining after
emotional vehemence [Verzweif-lungssucht und
Leidenschaftssucherei], and often lose sight of time and
repose and the really musical too much. I, on the other hand,
do so perhaps too little. Thus we made up for each other's
deficiencies, and all three, I think, learned something,
while I felt rather like a schoolmaster, and they like
mirliflores or incroyables.
After the festival the three musicians travelled together to Dusseldorf,
where since the preceding October Mendelssohn was settled as musical
director. They passed the morning of the day which Chopin and Hiller
spent in the town at Mendelssohn's piano, and in the afternoon took a
walk, at the end of which they had coffee and a game at skittles. In
this walk they were accompanied by F. W. Schadow, the director of the
Academy of Art and founder of the Dusseldorf School, and some of
his pupils, among whom may have been one or more of its brightest
stars--Lessing, Bendemann, Hildebrandt, Sohn, and Alfred Rethel. Hiller,
who furnishes us with some particulars of what Mendelssohn calls "a very
agreeable day passed in playing and discussing music," says that
Schadow and his pupils appeared to him like a prophet surrounded by
his disciples. But the dignified manner and eloquent discourse of the
prophet, the humble silence of the devoutly-listening disciples, seem to
have prevented Chopin from feeling quite at ease.
Chopin [writes Hiller], who was not known to any of them, and
extremely reserved, kept close to me during the walk,
observing everything and making remarks to me in a low, low
tone. For the later part of the evening we were invited to
the Schadows', who were never wanting in hospitality. We
found there some of the most eminent young painters. The
conversation soon became very animated, and all would have
been right if poor Chopin had not sat there so reserved--not
to say unnoticed. However, Mendelssohn and I knew that he
would have his revenge, and were secretly rejoicing at the
thought. At last the piano was opened; I began, Mendelssohn
followed; then we asked Chopin to play, and rather doubtful
looks were cast at him and us. But he had hardly played a few
bars when all present, especially Schadow, looked at him with
altogether different eyes. Nothing like it had ever been
heard. They were all in the greatest delight, and begged for
more and more. Count Almaviva had dropped his disguise, and
all were speechless.
The following day Chopin and Hiller set out per steamer for Coblenz, and
Mendelssohn, although Schadow had asked him what was to become of "St.
Paul," at which he was working, accompanied them as far as Cologne.
There, after a visit to the Apostles' church, they parted at the Rhine
bridge, and, as Mendelssohn wrote to his mother, "the pleasant episode
was over."