1834-1835.
MATUSZYNSKI SETTLES IN PARIS.--MORE ABOUT CHOPIN'S WAY OF LIFE.--OP.
25.--HE IS ADVISED TO WRITE AN OPERA.--HIS OWN IDEAS IN REGARD TO
THIS, AND A DISCUSSION OF THE QUESTION.--CHOPIN'S PUBLIC
APPEARANCES.--BERLIOZ'S CONCERT.--STOEPEL's CONCERT.--A CONCERT AT
PLEYEL'S ROOMS.--A CONCERT AT THE THEATRE-ITALIEN FOR THE BENEFIT OF
THE INDIGENT POLISH REFUGEES.--A CONCERT OF THE SOCIETE DES
CONCERTS.--CHOPIN AS A PUBLIC PERFORMER.--CHOUQUET, LISZT, ETC., ON THE
CHARACTER OF HIS PLAYING.--BELLINI AND HIS RELATION TO CHOPIN.--CHOPIN
GOES TO CARLSBAD.--AT DRESDEN.--HIS VISIT TO LEIPZIG: E. F. WENZEL'S
REMINISCENCES; MENDELSSOHN'S AND SCHUMANN'S REMARKS ON THE SAME
EVENT.--CHOPIN'S STAY AT HEIDELBERG AND RETURN TO PARIS.
The coming to Paris and settlement there of his friend Matuszynski must
have been very gratifying to Chopin, who felt so much the want of one
with whom he could sigh. Matuszynski, who, since we heard last of him,
had served as surgeon-major in the Polish insurrectionary army, and
taken his doctor's degree at Tubingen in 1834, proceeded in the
same year to Paris, where he was appointed professor at the Ecole
de Medecine. The latter circumstance testifies to his excellent
professional qualities, and Chopin's letters do not leave us in doubt
concerning the nature of his qualities as a friend. Indeed, what George
Sand says of his great influence over Chopin only confirms what these
letters lead one to think. In 1834 Matuszynski wrote in a letter
addressed to his brother-in-law:--
The first thing I did in Paris was to call on Chopin. I
cannot tell you how great our mutual happiness was on meeting
again after a separation of five years. He has grown strong
and tall; I hardly recognised him. Chopin is now the first
pianist here; he gives a great many lessons, but none under
twenty francs. He has composed much, and his works are in
great request. I live with him: Rue Chaussee d'Antin, No. 5.
This street is indeed rather far from the Ecole de Medecine
and the hospitals; but I have weighty reasons for staying
with him--he is my all! We spend the evenings at the theatre
or pay visits; if we do not do one or the other, we enjoy
ourselves quietly at home.
Less interesting than this letter of Matuszynski's, with its glimpses of
Chopin's condition and habits, are the reminiscences of a Mr. W., now or
till lately a music-teacher at Posen, who visited Paris in 1834, and
was introduced to Chopin by Dr. A. Hofman. [FOONOTE: See p. 257.] But,
although less interesting, they are by no means without significance,
for instance, with regard to the chronology of the composer's works.
Being asked to play something, Mr. W. chose Kalkbrenner's variations
on one of Chopin's mazurkas (the one in B major, Op. 7, No. 1). Chopin
generously repaid the treat which Kalkbrenner's variations and his
countryman's execution may have afforded him, by playing the studies
which he afterwards published as Op. 25.
Elsner, like all Chopin's friends, was pleased with the young artist's
success. The news he heard of his dear Frederick filled his heart
with joy, nevertheless he was not altogether satisfied. "Excuse my
sincerity," he writes, on September 14, 1834, "but what you have done
hitherto I do not yet consider enough." Elsner's wish was that Chopin
should compose an opera, if possible one with a Polish historical
subject; and this he wished, not so much for the increase of Chopin's
fame as for the advantage of the art. Knowing his pupil's talents and
acquirements he was sure that what a critic pointed out in Chopin's
mazurkas would be fully displayed and obtain a lasting value only in an
opera. The unnamed critic referred to must be the writer in the "Gazette
musicale," who on June 29, 1834, in speaking of the "Quatre Mazurkas,"
Op. 17, says--
Chopin has gained a quite special reputation by the clever
spirituelle and profoundly artistic manner in which he knows
how to treat the national music of Poland, a genre of music
which was to us as yet little known...here again he appears
poetical, tender, fantastic, always graceful, and always
charming, even in the moments when he abandons himself to the
most passionate inspiration.
Karasowski says that Elsner's letter made Chopin seriously think of
writing an opera, and that he even addressed himself to his friend
Stanislas Kozmian with the request to furnish him with a libretto, the
subject of which was to be taken from Polish history. I do not question
this statement. But if it is true, Chopin soon abandoned the idea. In
fact, he thoroughly made up his mind, and instead of endeavouring to
become a Shakespeare he contented himself with being an Uhland. The
following conversations will show that Chopin acquired the rarest
and most precious kind of knowledge, that is, self-knowledge. His
countryman, the painter Kwiatkowski, calling one day on Chopin found him
and Mickiewicz in the midst of a very excited discussion. The poet urged
the composer to undertake a great work, and not to fritter away his
power on trifles; the composer, on the other hand, maintained that he
was not in possession of the qualities requisite for what he was advised
to undertake. G. Mathias, who studied under Chopin from 1839 to 1844,
remembers a conversation between his master and M. le Comte de Perthuis,
one of Louis Philippe's aides-de-camp. The Count said--
"Chopin, how is it that you, who have such admirable ideas,
do not compose an opera?" [Chopin, avec vos idees admirables,
pourquoi ne nous faites-vous pas un opera?] "Ah, Count, let
me compose nothing but music for the pianoforte; I am not
learned enough to compose operas!" [Ah, Monsieur le Comte,
laissez-moi ne faire que de la musique de piano; pour faire
des operas je ne suis pas assez savant.]
Chopin, in fact, knew himself better than his friends and teacher knew
him, and it was well for him and it is well for us that he did, for
thereby he saved himself much heart-burning and disappointment, and us
the loss of a rich inheritance of charming and inimitable pianoforte
music. He was emphatically a Kleinmeister--i.e. a master of works of
small size and minute execution. His attempts in the sonata-form were
failures, although failures worth more--some of them at least--than
many a clever artist's most brilliant successes. Had he attempted the
dramatic form the result would in all probability have been still less
happy; for this form demands not only a vigorous constructive power,
but in addition to it a firm grasp of all the vocal and instrumental
resources--qualities, in short, in which Chopin was undeniably
deficient, owing not so much to inadequate training as to the nature
of his organisation. Moreover, he was too much given to express his
own emotions, too narrow in his sympathies, in short, too individual a
composer, to successfully express the emotions of others, to objectively
conceive and set forth the characters of men and women unlike himself.
Still, the master's confidence in his pupil, though unfounded in this
particular, is beautiful to contemplate; and so also is his affection
for him, which even the pedantic style of his letters cannot altogether
hide. Nor is it possible to admire in a less degree the reciprocation of
these sentiments by the great master's greater pupil:--
What a pity it is [are the concluding words of Elsner's
letter of September 14, 1834] that we can no longer see each
other and exchange our opinions! I have got so much to tell
you. I should like also to thank you for the present, which
is doubly precious to me. I wish I were a bird, so that I
might visit you in your Olympian dwelling, which the
Parisians take for a swallow's nest. Farewell, love me, as I
do you, for I shall always remain your sincere friend and
well-wisher.
In no musical season was Chopin heard so often in public as in that of
1834-35; but it was not only his busiest, it was also his last season
as a virtuoso. After it his public appearances ceased for several years
altogether, and the number of concerts at which he was subsequently
heard does not much exceed half-a-dozen. The reader will be best enabled
to understand the causes that led to this result if I mention those of
Chopin's public performances in this season which have come under
my notice. On December 7, 1834, at the third and last of a series
of concerts given by Berlioz at the Conservatoire, Chopin played an
"Andante" for the piano with orchestral accompaniments of his own
composition, which, placed as it was among the overtures to "Les
Francs-Juges" and "King Lear," the "Harold" Symphony, and other works of
Berlioz, no doubt sounded at the concert as strange as it looks on
the programme. The "Andante" played by Chopin was of course the middle
movement of one of his concertos. [Footnote: Probably the "Larghetto"
from the F minor Concerto. See Liszt's remark on p. 282.]
On December 25 of the same year, Dr. Francois Stoepel gave a matinee
musicale at Pleyel's rooms, for which he had secured a number of very
distinguished artists. But the reader will ask--"Who is Dr. Stoepel?"
An author of several theoretical works, instruction books, and musical
compositions, who came to Paris in 1829 and founded a school on
Logier's system, as he had done in Berlin and other towns, but was
as unsuccessful in the French capital as elsewhere. Disappointed
and consumptive he died in 1836 at the age of forty-two; his income,
although the proceeds of teaching were supplemented by the remuneration
for contributions to the "Gazette musicale," having from first to last
been scanty. Among the artists who took part in this matinee musicale
were Chopin, Liszt, the violinist Ernst, and the singers Mdlle.
Heinefetter, Madame Degli-Antoni, and M. Richelmi. The programme
comprised also an improvisation on the orgue expressif (harmonium) by
Madame de la Hye, a grand-niece of J.J. Rousseau's. Liszt and Chopin
opened the matinee with a performance of Moscheles' "Grand duo a quatre
mains," of which the reporter of the "Gazette musicale" writes as
follows:--
We consider it superfluous to say that this piece, one of the
masterworks of the composer, was executed with a rare
perfection of talent by the two greatest pianoforte-virtuosos
of our epoch. Brilliancy of execution combined with perfect
delicacy, sustained elevation, and the contrast of the most
spirited vivacity and calmest serenity, of the most graceful
lightness and gravest seriousness--the clever blending of all
the nuances can only be expected from two artists of the same
eminence and equally endowed with deep artistic feeling. The
most enthusiastic applause showed MM. Liszt and Chopin better
than we can do by our words how much they charmed the
audience, which they electrified a second time by a Duo for
two pianos composed by Liszt.
This work of Liszt's was no doubt the Duo for two pianos on a theme of
Mendelssohn's which, according to Miss Ramann, was composed in 1834 but
never published, and is now lost.
The "Menestrel" of March 22, 1835, contains a report of a concert at
Pleyel's rooms, without, however, mentioning the concert-giver, who was
probably the proprietor himself:--
The last concert at Pleyel's rooms was very brilliant. Men of
fashion, litterateurs, and artists had given each other
rendez-vous there to hear our musical celebrities--MM. Herz,
Chopin, Osborne, Hiller, Reicha, Mesdames Camille Lambert and
Leroy, and M. Hamati [read Stamati], a young pianist who had
not yet made a public appearance in our salons. These artists
performed various pieces which won the approval of all.
And now mark the dying fall of this vague report: "Kalkbrenner's
Variations on the cavatina 'Di tanti palpiti' were especially
applauded."
We come now to the so much talked-of concert at the Italian Opera, which
became so fateful in Chopin's career as a virtuoso. It is generally
spoken of as a concert given by Chopin, and Karasowski says it took
place in February, 1834. I have, however, been unable to find any trace
of a concert given by Chopin in 1834. On the other hand, Chopin played
on April 5, 1835, at a concert which in all particulars except that of
date answers to the description of the one mentioned by Karasowski. The
"Journal des Debats" of April 4, 1835, draws the public's attention to
it by the following short and curious article:--
The concert for the benefit of the indigent Poles [i.e.,
indigent Polish refugees] will take place to-morrow,
Saturday, at the Theatre-Italien, at eight o'clock in the
evening. Mdlle. Falcon and Nourrit, MM. Ernst, Dorus, Schopin
[sic], Litz [sic], and Pantaleoni, will do the honours of
this soiree, which will be brilliant. Among other things
there will be heard the overtures to "Oberon" and "Guillaume
Tell," the duet from the latter opera, sung by Mdlle. Falcon
and Nourrit, and romances by M. Schubert, sung by Nourrit and
accompanied by Litz, &c.
To this galaxy of artistic talent I have yet to add Habeneck, who
conducted the orchestra. Chopin played with the orchestra his E minor
Concerto and with Liszt a duet for two pianos by Hiller.
As you may suppose [says a writer of a notice in the "Gazette
musicale"] M. Chopin was not a stranger to the composition of
the programme of this soiree in behalf of his unhappy
countrymen. Accordingly the fete was brilliant.
In the same notice may also be read the following:--
Chopin's Concerto, so original, of so brilliant a style, so
full of ingenious details, so fresh in its melodies, obtained
a very great success. It is very difficult not to be
monotonous in a pianoforte concerto; and the amateurs could
not but thank Chopin for the pleasure he had procured them,
while the artists admired the talent which enabled him to do
so [i.e., to avoid monotony], and at the same time to
rejuvenate so antiquated a form.
The remark on the agedness of the concerto-form and the difficulty of
not being monotonous is naive and amusing enough to be quoted for its
own sake, but what concerns us here is the correctness of the report.
Although the expressions of praise contained in it are by no means
enthusiastic, nay, are not even straightforward, they do not tally
with what we learn from other accounts. This discrepancy may be thus
explained. Maurice Schlesinger, the founder and publisher of the
"Gazette musicale," was on friendly terms with Chopin and had already
published some of his compositions. What more natural, therefore, than
that, if the artist's feelings were hurt, he should take care that
they should not be further tortured by unpleasant remarks in his paper.
Indeed, in connection with all the Chopin notices and criticisms in
the "Gazette musicale" we must keep in mind the relations between the
publisher and composer, and the fact that several of the writers in
the paper were Chopin's intimate friends, and many of them were of the
clique, or party, to which he also belonged. Sowinski, a countryman
and acquaintance of Chopin's, says of this concert that the theatre
was crowded and all went well, but that Chopin's expectations were
disappointed, the E minor Concerto not producing the desired effect. The
account in Larousse's "Grand Dictionnaire" is so graphic that it
makes one's flesh creep. After remarking that Chopin obtained only a
demi-success, the writer of the article proceeds thus: "The bravos of
his friends and a few connoisseurs alone disturbed the cold and somewhat
bewildered attitude of the majority of the audience." According to
Sowinski and others Chopin's repugnance to play in public dates from
this concert; but this repugnance was not the outcome of one but of
many experiences. The concert at the Theatre-Italien may, however, have
brought it to the culminating point. Liszt told me that Chopin was
most deeply hurt by the cold reception he got at a concert at the
Conservatoire, where he played the Larghetto from the F minor Concerto.
This must have been at Berlioz's concert, which I mentioned on one of
the foregoing pages of this chapter.
Shortly after the concert at the Theatre-Italien, Chopin ventured once
more to face that terrible monster, the public. On Sunday, April 26,
1835, he played at a benefit concert of Habeneck's, which is notable as
the only concert of the Societe des Concerts du Conservatoire in which
he took part. The programme was as follows:--1. The "Pastoral Symphony,"
by Beethoven; 2. "The Erl-King," by Schubert, sung by M. Ad. Nourrit;
3. Scherzo from the "Choral Symphony," by Beethoven; 4. "Polonaise
avec introduction" [i.e., "Polonaise brillante precedee d'un Andante
spianato"], composed and played by M. Chopin; 5. Scena, by Beethoven,
sung by Mdlle. Falcon; 6. Finale from the C minor Symphony, by
Beethoven. The writer of the article Chopin in Larousse's "Grand
Dictionnaire" says that Chopin had no reason to repent of having taken
part in the concert, and others confirm this statement. In Elwart's
"Histoire des Concerts du Conservatoire" we read:--"Le compositeur
reveur, l'elegiaque pianiste, produisit a ce concert un effet
delicieux." To the author of the "Histoire dramatique en France" and
late curator of the Musee du Conservatoire I am indebted for some
precious communications. M. Gustave Chouquet, who at the time we are
speaking of was a youth and still at the College, informed me in a
charming letter that he was present at this concert at which Chopin
played, and also at the preceding one (on Good Friday) at which Liszt
played Weber's "Concertstuck," and that he remembered very well "the
fiery playing of Liszt and the ineffable poetry of Chopin's style."
In another letter M. Chouquet gave a striking resume of the vivid
reminiscences of his first impressions:--
Liszt, in 1835 [he wrote], represented a merveilleux the
prototype of the virtuoso; while in my opinion Chopin
personified the poet. The first aimed at effect and posed as
the Paganini of the piano; Chopin, on the other hand, seemed
never to concern himself [se preuccuper] about the public,
and to listen only to the inner voices. He was unequal; but
when inspiration took hold of him [s'emparait de hit] he made
the keyboard sing in an ineffable manner. I owe him some
poetic hours which I shall never forget.
One of the facts safely deducible from the often doubtful and
contradictory testimonies relative to Chopin's public performances is,
that when he appeared before a large and mixed audience he failed to
call forth general enthusiasm. He who wishes to carry the multitude
away with him must have in him a force akin to the broad sweep of a
full river. Chopin, however, was not a Demosthenes, Cicero, Mirabeau, or
Pitt. Unless he addressed himself to select conventicles of sympathetic
minds, the best of his subtle art remained uncomprehended. How well
Chopin knew this may be gathered from what he said to Liszt:--
I am not at all fit for giving concerts, the crowd
intimidates me, its breath suffocates me, I feel paralysed by
its curious look, and the unknown faces make me dumb. But you
are destined for it, for when you do not win your public, you
have the power to overwhelm it.
Opposition and indifference, which stimulate more vigorous natures,
affected Chopin as touch does the mimosa pudica, the sensitive
plant--they made him shrink and wither. Liszt observes correctly that
the concerts did not so much fatigue Chopin's physical constitution
as provoke his irritability as a poet; that, in fact, his delicate
constitution was less a reason than a pretext for abstention, he wishing
to avoid being again and again made the subject of debate. But it is
more difficult for one in similar circumstances not to feel as Chopin
did than for a successful virtuoso like Liszt to say:--
If Chopin suffered on account of his not being able to take
part in those public and solemn jousts where popular
acclamation salutes the victor; if he felt depressed at
seeing himself excluded from them, it was because he did not
esteem highly enough what he had, to do gaily without what he
had not.
To be sure, the admiration of the best men of his time ought to have
consoled him for the indifference of the dull crowd. But do we not all
rather yearn for what we have not than enjoy what we have? Nay, do we
not even often bewail the unattainableness of vain bubbles when it would
be more seasonable to rejoice in the solid possessions with which we
are blessed? Chopin's discontent, however, was caused by the
unattainableness not of a vain bubble, but of a precious crown. There
are artists who pretend to despise the great public, but their abuse of
it when it withholds its applause shows their real feeling. No artist
can at heart be fully satisfied with the approval of a small minority;
Chopin, at any rate, was not such a one. Nature, who had richly endowed
him with the qualities that make a virtuoso, had denied him one, perhaps
the meanest of all, certainly the least dispensable, the want of which
balked him of the fulfilment of the promise with which the others had
flattered him, of the most brilliant reward of his striving. In the
lists where men much below his worth won laurels and gold in abundance
he failed to obtain a fair share of the popular acclamation. This
was one of the disappointments which, like malignant cancers, cruelly
tortured and slowly consumed his life.
The first performance of Bellini's "I Puritani" at the Theatre-Italien
(January 24, 1835), which as well as that of Halevy's "La Juive" at the
Academic (February 23, 1835), and of Auber's "Le cheval de bronze" at
the Opera-Comique (March 23, 1835), was one of the chief musico-dramatic
events of the season 1834-1835, reminds me that I ought to say a few
words about the relation which existed between the Italian and the
Polish composer. Most readers will have heard of Chopin's touching
request to be buried by the side of Bellini. Loath though I am to
discredit so charming a story, duty compels me to state that it is
wholly fictitious. Chopin's liking for Bellini and his music, how ever,
was true and real enough. Hiller relates that he rarely saw him so
deeply moved as at a performance of Norma, which they attended together,
and that in the finale of the second act, in which Rubini seemed to sing
tears, Chopin had tears in his eyes. A liking for the Italian operatic
music of the time, a liking which was not confined to Bellini's works,
but, as Franchomme, Wolff, and others informed me, included also those
of Rossini, appears at first sight rather strange in a musician of
Chopin's complexion; the prevalent musical taste at Warsaw, and a
kindred trait in the national characters of the Poles and Italians,
however, account for it. With regard to Bellini, Chopin's sympathy was
strengthened by the congeniality of their individual temperaments. Many
besides Leon Escudier may have found in the genius of Chopin points of
resemblance with Bellini as well as with Raphael--two artists who, it is
needless to say, were heaven-wide apart in the mastery of the craft of
their arts, and in the width, height, and depth of their conceptions.
The soft, rounded Italian contours and sweet sonorousness of some of
Chopin's cantilene cannot escape the notice of the observer. Indeed,
Chopin's Italicisms have often been pointed out. Let me remind the
reader here only of some remarks of Schumann's, made apropos of the
Sonata in B flat minor, Op. 35:--
It is known that Bellini and Chopin were friends, and that
they, who often made each other acquainted with their
compositions, may perhaps have had some artistic influence on
each other. But, as has been said, there is [on the part of
Chopin] only a slight leaning to the southern manner; as soon
as the cantilena is at an end the Sarmatian flashes out
again.
To understand Chopin's sympathy we have but to picture to ourselves
Bellini's personality--the perfectly well-proportioned, slender figure,
the head with its high forehead and scanty blonde hair, the well-formed
nose, the honest, bright look, the expressive mouth; and within this
pleasing exterior, the amiable, modest disposition, the heart that felt
deeply, the mind that thought acutely. M. Charles Maurice relates a
characteristic conversation in his "Histoire anecdotique du Theatre."
Speaking to Bellini about "La Sonnambula," he had remarked that there
was soul in his music. This expression pleased the composer immensely.
"Oui, n'est-ce pas? De l'ame!" he exclaimed in his soft Italian manner
of speaking, "C'est ce que je veux...De L'ame! Oh! je suis sensible!
Merci!...C'est que l'ame, c'est toute la musique!" "And he pressed my
hands," says Charles Maurice, "as if I had discovered a new merit in his
rare talent." This specimen of Bellini's conversation is sufficient to
show that his linguistic accomplishments were very limited. Indeed, as
a good Sicilian he spoke Italian badly, and his French was according to
Heine worse than bad, it was frightful, apt to make people's hair stand
on end.
When one was in the same salon with him, his vicinity inspired one with
a certain anxiety mingled with the fascination of terror which repelled
and attracted at the same time. His puns were not always of an amusing
kind. Hiller also mentions Bellini's bad grammar and pronunciation, but
he adds that the contrast between what he said and the way he said
it gave to his gibberish a charm which is often absent from the
irreproachable language of trained orators. It is impossible to
conjecture what Bellini might have become as a musician if, instead
of dying before the completion of his thirty-third year (September 24,
1835), he had lived up to the age of fifty or sixty; thus much, however,
is certain, that there was still in him a vast amount of undeveloped
capability. Since his arrival in Paris he had watched attentively the
new musical phenomena that came there within his ken, and the "Puritani"
proves that he had not done so without profit. This sweet singer from
sensuous Italy was not insensible even to the depth and grandeur of
German music. After hearing Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, for instance,
he said to Hiller, his eyes glistening as if he had himself done a great
deed: "E bel comme la nature!" [Footnote: I give the words literally
as they are printed in Hiller's Kimmerleben. The mixture of Italian
and French was no doubt intended, but hardly the spelling.] In short,
Bellini was a true artist, and therefore a meet companion for a true
artist like Chopin, of whose music it can be said with greater force
than of that of most composers that "it is all soul." Chopin, who of
course met Bellini here and there in the salons of the aristocracy,
came also in closer contact with him amidst less fashionable but
more congenial surroundings. I shall now let Hiller, the pleasant
story-teller, speak, who, after remarking that Bellini took a great
interest in piano-forte music, even though it was not played by a
Chopin, proceeds thus:--
I can never forget some evenings which I spent with him
[Bellini] and Chopin and a few other guests at Madame
Freppa's. Madame Freppa, an accomplished and exceedingly
musical woman, born at Naples, but of French extraction, had,
in order to escape from painful family circumstances, settled
in Paris, where she taught singing in the most distinguished
circles. She had an exceedingly sonorous though not powerful
voice, and an excellent method, and by her rendering of
Italian folk-songs and other simple vocal compositions of the
older masters charmed even the spoiled frequenters of the
Italian Opera. We cordially esteemed her, and sometimes went
together to visit her at the extreme end of the Faubourg St.
Germain, where she lived with her mother on a troisieme au
dessus de l'entresol, high above all the noise and tumult of
the ever-bustling city. There music was discussed, sung, and
played, and then again discussed, played, and sung. Chopin
and Madame Freppa seated themselves by turns at the
pianoforte; I, too, did my best; Bellini made remarks, and
accompanied himself in one or other of his cantilene, rather
in illustration of what he had been saying than for the
purpose of giving a performance of them. He knew how to sing
better than any German composer whom I have met, and had a
voice less full of sound than of feeling. His pianoforte-
playing sufficed for the reproduction of his orchestra,
which, indeed, is not saying much. But he knew very well what
he wanted, and was far from being a kind of natural poet, as
some may imagine him to have been.
In the summer of 1835, towards the end of July, Chopin journeyed to
Carlsbad, whither his father had been sent by the Warsaw physicians. The
meeting of the parents and their now famous son after a separation of
nearly five years was no doubt a very joyous one; but as no accounts
have come down to us of Chopin's doings and feelings during his sojourn
in the Bohemian watering-place, I shall make no attempt to fill up the
gap by a gushing description of what may have been, evolved out of
the omniscience of my inner consciousness, although this would be an
insignificant feat compared with those of a recent biographer whose
imaginativeness enabled her to describe the appearance of the sky
and the state of the weather in the night when her hero became a free
citizen of this planet, and to analyse minutely the characters of
private individuals whose lives were passed in retirement, whom she had
never seen, and who had left neither works nor letters by which they
might be judged.
From Carlsbad Chopin went to Dresden. His doings there were of great
importance to him, and are of great interest to us. In fact, a
new love-romance was in progress. But the story had better be told
consecutively, for which reason I postpone my account of his stay in the
Saxon capital till the next chapter.
Frederick Wieck, the father and teacher of Clara, who a few years later
became the wife of Robert Schumann, sent the following budget of Leipzig
news to Nauenburg, a teacher of music in Halle, in the autumn of 1835:--
The first subscription concert will take place under the
direction of Mendelssohn on October 4, the second on October
4. To-morrow or the day after to-morrow Chopin will arrive
here from Dresden, but will probably not give a concert, for
he is very lazy. He could stay here for some time, if false
friends (especially a dog of a Pole) did not prevent him from
making himself acquainted with the musical side of Leipzig.
But Mendelssohn, who is a good friend of mine and Schumann's,
will oppose this. Chopin does not believe, judging from a
remark he made to a colleague in Dresden, that there is any
lady in Germany who can play his compositions--we will see
what Clara can do.
The Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, Schumann's paper, of September 29, 1835,
contained the following announcement:--
Leipzig will soon be able to show a Kalisz [Footnote: An
allusion to the encampment of Russian and Prussian troops and
friendly meeting of princes which took place there in 1835.]
as regards musical crowned heads. Herr Mendelssohn has
already arrived. Herr Moscheles comes this week; and besides
him there will be Chopin, and later, Pixis and Franzilla.
[Footnote: Franzilla (or Francilla) Pixis, the adopted
daughter of Peter Pixis, whose acquaintance the reader made
in one of the preceding chapters (p. 245).]
The details of the account of Chopin's visit to Leipzig which I am now
going to give, were communicated to me by Ernst Ferdinand Wenzel,
the well-known professor of pianoforte-playing at the Leipzig
Conservatorium, who died in 1880.
In the middle of the year 1835 the words "Chopin is coming" were passing
from mouth to mouth, and caused much stir in the musical circles of
Leipzig. Shortly after this my informant saw Mendelssohn in the street
walking arm in arm with a young man, and he knew at once that the Polish
musician had arrived, for this young man could be no other than Chopin.
From the direction in which the two friends were going, he guessed
whither their steps were tending. He, therefore, ran as fast as his legs
would carry him to his master Wieck, to tell him that Chopin would be
with him in another moment. The visit had been expected, and a little
party was assembled, every one of which was anxious to see and hear
the distinguished artist. Besides Wieck, his wife, daughter, and
sister-in-law, there were present Robert Schumann and Wieck's pupils
Wenzel, Louis Rakemann, and Ulex. But the irascible pedagogue, who felt
offended because Chopin had not come first to him, who had made such
efforts for the propagation of his music, would not stay and welcome
his visitor, but withdrew sulkily into the inner apartments. Wieck had
scarcely left the room when Mendelssohn and Chopin entered. The former,
who had some engagement, said, "Here is Chopin!" and then left, rightly
thinking this laconic introduction sufficient. Thus the three most
distinguished composers of their time were at least for a moment brought
together in the narrow space of a room. [Footnote: This dictum, like
all superlatives and sweeping assertions, will no doubt raise objectors;
but, I think, it may be maintained, and easily maintained with the
saving clause "apart from the stage."] Chopin was in figure not unlike
Mendelssohn, but the former was more lightly built and more graceful in
his movements. He spoke German fluently, although with a foreign accent.
The primary object of Chopin's visit was to make the acquaintance of
Clara Wieck, who had already acquired a high reputation as a pianist.
She played to him among other things the then new and not yet published
Sonata in F sharp minor (Op. 11) by Schumann, which she had lately been
studying. The gentlemen dared not ask Chopin to play because of the
piano, the touch of which was heavy and which consequently would not
suit him. But the ladies were bolder, and did not cease entreating him
till he sat down and played his Nocturne in E flat (Op. 9, No. 2). After
the lapse of forty-two years Wenzel was still in raptures about the
wonderful, fairy-like lightness and delicacy of Chopin's touch and
style. The conversation seems to have turned on Schubert, one of
Schumann's great favourites, for Chopin, in illustration of something he
said, played the commencement of Schubert's Alexander March. Meanwhile
Wieck was sorely tried by his curiosity when Chopin was playing, and
could not resist the temptation of listening in the adjoining room, and
even peeping through the door that stood slightly ajar. When the visit
came to a close; Schumann conducted Chopin to the house of his friend
Henrietta Voigt, a pupil of Louis Berger's, and Wenzel, who accompanied
them to the door, heard Schumann say to Chopin: "Let us go in here where
we shall find a thorough, intelligent pianist and a good piano." They
then entered the house, and Chopin played and also stayed for dinner.
No sooner had he left, than the lady, who up to that time had been
exceedingly orthodox in her musical opinions and tastes, sent to
Kistner's music-shop, and got all the compositions by Chopin which were
in stock.
The letter of Mendelssohn which I shall quote presently and an entry in
Henrietta Voigt's diary of the year 1836, which will be quoted in the
next chapter, throw some doubt on the latter part of Herr Wenzel's
reminiscences. Indeed, on being further questioned on the subject,
he modified his original information to this, that he showed Chopin,
unaccompanied by Schumann, the way to the lady's house, and left him at
the door. As to the general credibility of the above account, I may say
that I have added nothing to my informant's communications, and that in
my intercourse with him I found him to be a man of acute observation and
tenacious memory. What, however, I do not know, is the extent to which
the mythopoeic faculty was developed in him.
[Footnote: Richard Pohl gave incidentally a characterisation of this
exceedingly interesting personality in the Signale of September, 1886,
No. 48. Having been personally acquainted with Wenzel and many of his
friends and pupils, I can vouch for its truthfulness. He was "one of
the best and most amiable men I have known," writes R. Pohl, "full of
enthusiasm for all that is beautiful, obliging, unselfish, thoroughly
kind, and at the same time so clever, so cultured, and so many-sided
as--excuse me, gentlemen--I have rarely found a pianoforte-teacher.
He gave pianoforte lessons at the Conservatorium and in many private
houses; he worked day after day, year after year, from morning till
night, and with no other outcome as far as he himself was concerned
than that all his pupils--especially his female pupils--loved him
enthusiastically. He was a pupil of Friedrich Wieck and a friend of
Schumann."]
In a letter dated October 6, 1835, and addressed to his family,
Mendelssohn describes another part of Chopin's sojourn in Leipzig and
gives us his opinion of the Polish artist's compositions and playing:--
The day after I accompanied the Hensels to Delitzsch, Chopin
was here; he intended to remain only one day, so we spent
this entirely together and had a great deal of music. I
cannot deny, dear Fanny, that I have lately found that you do
not do him justice in your judgment [of his talents]; perhaps
he was not in a right humour for playing when you heard him,
which may not unfrequently be the case with him. But his
playing has enchanted me anew, and I am persuaded that if you
and my father had heard some of his better pieces played as
he played them to me, you would say the same. There is
something thoroughly original and at the same time so very
masterly in his piano-forte-playing that he may be called a
really perfect virtuoso; and as every kind of perfection is
welcome and gratifying to me, that day was a most pleasant
one, although so entirely different from the previous ones
spent with you Hensels.
I was glad to be once more with a thorough musician, not with
those half-virtuosos and half-classics who would gladly
combine in music les honneurs de la vertu et les plaisirs du
vice, but with one who has his perfect and well-defined genre
[Richtung]. To whatever extent it may differ from mine, I can
get on with it famously; but not with those half-men. The
Sunday evening was really curious when Chopin made me play
over my oratorio to him, while curious Leipzigers stole into
the room to see him, and how between the first and second
parts he dashed off his new Etudes and a new Concerto, to the
astonishment of the Leipzigers, and I afterwards resumed my
St. Paul, just as if a Cherokee and a Kaffir had met and
conversed. He has such a pretty new notturno, several parts
of which I have retained in my memory for the purpose of
playing it for Paul's amusement. Thus we passed the time
pleasantly together, and he promised seriously to return in
the course of the winter if I would compose a new symphony
and perform it in honour of him. We vowed these things in the
presence of three witnesses, and we shall see whether we both
keep our word. My works of Handel [Footnote: A present from
the Committee of the Cologne Musical Festival of 1835.]
arrived before Chopin's departure, and were a source of quite
childish delight to him; but they are really so beautiful
that I cannot sufficiently rejoice in their possession.
Although Mendelssohn never played any of Chopin's compositions in
public, he made his piano pupils practise some of them. Karasowski is
wrong in saying that Mendelssohn had no such pupils; he had not many, it
is true, but he had a few. A remark which Mendelssohn once made in his
peculiar naive manner is very characteristic of him and his opinion
of Chopin. What he said was this: "Sometimes one really does not know
whether Chopin's music is right or wrong." On the whole, however, if one
of the two had to complain of the other's judgment, it was not Chopin
but Mendelssohn, as we shall see farther on.
To learn what impression Chopin made on Schumann, we must once more turn
to the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, where we find the Polish artist's
visit to Leipzig twice mentioned:--
October 6, 1835. Chopin was here, but only for a few hours,
which he passed in private circles. He played just as he
composes, that is, uniquely.
The second mention is in the P.S. of a transcendental Schwarmerbrief
addressed by Eusebius (the personification of the gentle, dreamy side of
Schumann's character) to Chiara (Clara Wieck):--
October 20, 1835. Chopin was here. Florestan [the
personification of the strong, passionate side of Schumann's
character] rushed to him. I saw them arm in arm glide rather
than walk. I did not speak with him, was quite startled at
the thought.
On his way to Paris, Chopin stopped also at Heidelberg, where he visited
the father of his pupil Adolph Gutmann, who treated him, as one of his
daughters remarked, not like a prince or even a king, but like somebody
far superior to either. The children were taught to look up to Chopin as
one who had no equal in his line. And the daughter already referred to
wrote more than thirty years afterwards that Chopin still stood out in
her memory as the most poetical remembrance of her childhood and youth.
Chopin must have been back in Paris in the first half or about the
middle of October, for the Gazette musicale of the 18th of that month
contains the following paragraph:--
One of the most eminent pianists of our epoch, M. Chopin, has
returned to Paris, after having made a tour in Germany which
has been for him a real ovation. Everywhere his admirable
talent obtained the most flattering reception and excited
enthusiasm. It was, indeed, as if he had not left our capital
at all.