After a stay of less than six weeks Chopin removed from the Rue Chaillot

to the apartments in No. 12, Place Vendome, which M. Albrecht and Dr.

O'Meara had succeeded in finding for him. About this time Moscheles came

to Paris. Of course he did not fail to inquire after his brother-artist

and call at his house. What Moscheles heard and thought may be gathered

from the following entry in his diary:-"Unfortunately, we heard of

Chopin's critical condition, made ourselves inquiries, and found all the

sad news confirmed. Since he has been laid up thus, his sister has been

with him. Now the days of the poor fellow are numbered, his sufferings

great. Sad lot!" Yes, Chopin's condition had become so hopeless that

his relations had been communicated with, and his sister, Louisa

Jedrzejewicz, [FOOTNOTE: The same sister who visited him in 1844, passed

on that occasion also some time at Nohant, and subsequently is mentioned

in a letter of Chopin's to Franchomme.] accompanied by her husband

and daughter, had lost no time in coming from Poland to Paris. For the

comfort of her presence he was, no doubt, thankful. But he missed and

deplored very much during his last illness the absence of his old,

trusted physician, Dr. Molin, who had died shortly after the composer's

return from England.

The accounts of Chopin's last days--even if we confine ourselves to

those given by eye-witnesses--are a mesh of contradictions which it is

impossible to wholly disentangle. I shall do my best, but perhaps the

most I can hope for is to avoid making confusion worse confounded.

In the first days of October Chopin was already in such a condition that

unsupported he could not sit upright. His sister and Gutmann did not

leave him for a minute, Chopin holding a hand of the latter almost

constantly in one of his. By the 15th of October the voice of the

patient had lost its sonority. It was on this day that took place the

episode which has so often and variously been described. The Countess

Delphine Potocka, between whom and Chopin existed a warm friendship, and

who then happened to be at Nice, was no sooner informed of her friend's

fatal illness than she hastened to Paris.

When the coming of this dear friend was announced to Chopin

[relates M. Gavard], he exclaimed: "Therefore, then, has God

delayed so long to call me to Him; He wished to vouchsafe me

yet the pleasure of seeing you." Scarcely had she stepped up

to him when he expressed the wish that she should let him hear

once more the voice which he loved so much. When the priest

who prayed beside the bed had granted the request of the dying

man, the piano was moved from the adjoining room, and the

unhappy Countess, mastering her sorrow and suppressing tier

sobs, had to force herself to sing beside the bed where her

friend was exhaling his life. I, for my part, heard nothing; I

do not know what she sang. This scene, this contrast, this

excess of grief had over-powered my-sensibility; I remember

only the moment when the death-rattle of the departing one

interrupted the Countess in the middle of the second piece.

The instrument was quickly removed, and beside the bed

remained only the priest who said the prayers for the dying,

and the kneeling friends around him.

However, the end was not yet come, indeed, was not to come till two

days after. M. Gavard, in saying that he did not hear what the Countess

Potocka sang, acts wisely, for those who pretended to have heard it

contradict each other outright. Liszt and Karasowski, who follows him,

say that the Countess sang the Hymn to the Virgin by Stradella, and a

Psalm by Marcello; on the other hand, Gutmann most positively asserted

that she sang a Psalm by Marcello and an air by Pergolesi; whereas

Franchomme insisted on her having sung an air from Bellini's Beatrice

di Tenda, and that only once, and nothing else. As Liszt was not himself

present, and does not give the authority for his statement, we may set

it, and with it Karasowski's, aside; but the two other statements,

made as they were by two musicians who were ear witnesses, leave us

in distressing perplexity with regard to what really took place, for

between them we cannot choose. Chopin, says M. Gavard, looked forward to

his death with serenity.

Some days after his removal to the Place Vendome, Chopin,

sitting upright and leaning on the arm of a friend, remained

silent for a long time and seemed lost in deep meditation.

Suddenly he broke the silence with the words: "Now my death-

struggle begins" [Maintenant j'entre en agonie]. The

physician, who was feeling his pulse, wished to comfort him

with some commonplace words of hope. But Chopin rejoined with

a superiority which admitted of no reply: "God shows man a

rare favour when He reveals to him the moment of the approach

of death; this grace He shows me. Do not disturb me."

M. Gavard relates also that on the 16th October Chopin twice called his

friends that were gathered in his apartments around him. "For everyone

he had a touching word; I, for my part, shall never forget the tender

words he spoke to me." Calling to his side the Princess Czartoryska and

Mdlle. Gavard, [FOOTNOTE: A sister of M. Charles Gavard, the pupil to

whom Chopin dedicated his Berceuse.] he said to them: "You will play

together, you will think of me, and I shall listen to you." And calling

to his side Franchomme, he said to the Princess: "I recommend Franchomme

to you, you will play Mozart together, and I shall listen to you."

[FOOTNOTE: The words are usually reported to have been "Vous jouerez

du Mozart en memoire de moi."] "And," added Franchomme when he told me

this, "the Princess has always been a good friend to me."

And George Sand? Chopin, as I have already mentioned, said two days

before his death to Franchomme: "She had said to me that I would die

in no arms but hers" [Elle n'avait dit que je ne mourrais que dans ses

bras]. Well, did she not come and fulfil her promise, or, at least, take

leave of her friend of many years? Here, again, all is contradiction. M.

Gavard writes:--

Among the persons who called and were not admitted was a

certain Madame M., who came in the name of George Sand--who

was then much occupied with the impending representation of

one of her dramas--to inquire after Chopin's state of health.

None of us thought it proper to disturb the last moments of

the master by the announcement of this somewhat late

remembrance.

Gutmann, on the other hand, related that George Sand came to the landing

of the staircase and asked him if she might see Chopin; but that he

advised her strongly against it, as it was likely to excite the patient

too much. Gutmann, however, seems to have been by no means sure about

this part of his recollections, for on two occasions he told me that it

was Madame Clesinger (George Sand's daughter, Solange) who asked if it

was advisable for her mother to come. Madame Clesinger, I may say

in passing, was one of those in loving attendance on Chopin, and, as

Franchomme told me, present, like himself, when the pianist-composer

breathed his last. From the above we gather, at least, that it is very

uncertain whether Chopin's desire to see George Sand was frustrated by

her heartlessness or the well-meaning interference of his friends.

During this illness of Chopin a great many of his friends and

acquaintances, in fact, too many, pressed forward, ready to be of use,

anxious to learn what was passing. Happily for the dying man's comfort,

most of them were not allowed to enter the room in which he lay.

In the back room [writes M. Gavard] lay the poor sufferer,

tormented by fits of breathlessness, and only sitting in bed

resting in the arms of a friend could he procure air for his

oppressed lungs. It was Gutmann, the strongest among us, who

knew best how to manage the patient, and who mostly thus

supported him. At the head of his bed sat the Princess

Marcelline Czartoryska: she never left him, guessing his most

secret wishes, nursing him like a sister of mercy with a

serene countenance, which did not betray her deep sorrow.

Other friends gave a helping hand or relieved her, everyone

according to his power; but most of them stayed in the two

adjoining rooms. Everyone had assumed a part; everyone helped

as much as he could: one ran to the doctors, to the

apothecary; another introduced the persons asked for; a third

shut the door on the intruders. To be sure, many who had

anything but free entrance came, and called to take leave of

him just as if he were about to start on a journey. This

anteroom of the dying man, where every one of us hopelessly

waited and watched, was like a guard-house or a camp.

M. Gavard probably exaggerates the services of the Princess Czartoryska,

but certainly forgets those of the composer's sister. Liszt, no doubt,

comes nearer the truth when he says that among those who assembled

in the salon adjoining Chopin's bedroom, and in turn came to him and

watched his gestures and looks when he had lost his speech, the Princess

Marcelline Czartoryska was the most assiduous.

She passed every day a couple of hours with the dying man. She

left him at the last only after having prayed for a long time

beside him who had just then fled from this world of illusions

and sorrows....

After a bad night Chopin felt somewhat better on the morning of the

16th. By several authorities we are informed that on this day, the day

after the Potocka episode, the artist received the sacrament which a

Polish priest gave him in the presence of many friends. Chopin got worse

again in the evening. While the priest was reading the prayers for

the dying, he rested silently and with his eyes closed upon Gutmann's

shoulder; but at the end of the prayers he opened his eyes wide and said

with a loud voice: "Amen."

The Polish priest above mentioned was the Abbe Alexander Jelowicki.

Liszt relates that in the absence of the Polish priest who was formerly

Chopin's confessor, the Abbe called on his countryman when he heard of

his condition, although they had not been on good terms for years. Three

times he was sent away by those about Chopin without seeing him. But

when he had succeeded in informing Chopin of his wish to see him, the

artist received him without delay. After that the Abbe became a daily

visitor. One day Chopin told him that he had not confessed for many

years, he would do so now. When the confession was over and the last

word of the absolution spoken, Chopin embraced his confessor with both

arms a la polonaise, and exclaimed: "Thanks! Thanks! Thanks to you I

shall not die like a pig." That is what Liszt tells us he had from Abbe

Jelowicki's own lips. In the account which the latter has himself given

of how Chopin was induced by him to receive the sacrament, induced only

after much hesitation, he writes:--

Then I experienced an inexpressible joy mixed with an

indescribable anguish. How should I receive this precious soul

so as to give it to God? I fell on my knees, and cried to God

with all the energy of my faith: "You alone receive it, O my

God!" And I held out to Chopin the image of the crucified

Saviour, pressing it firmly in his two hands without saying a

word. Then fell from his eyes big tears. "Do you believe?" I

asked him.--"I believe."--"Do you believe as your mother

taught you?"--"As my mother taught me." And, his eyes fixed on

the image of his Saviour, he confessed while shedding torrents

of tears. Then he received the viaticum and the extreme

unction which he asked for himself. After a moment he desired

that the sacristan should be given twenty times more than was

usually given to him. When I told him that this would be far

too much, he replied: "No, no, this is not too much, for what

I have received is priceless." From this moment, by God's

grace, or rather under the hand of God Himself, he became

quite another, and one might almost say he became a saint. On

the same day began the death-struggle, which lasted four days

and four nights. His patience and resignation to the will of

God did not abandon him up to the last minute....

When Chopin's last moments approached he took "nervous cramps" (this

was Gutmann's expression in speaking of the matter), and the only thing

which seemed to soothe him was Gutmann's clasping his wrists and ankles

firmly. Quite near the end Chopin was induced to drink some wine or

water by Gutmann, who supported him in his arms while holding the glass

to his lips. Chopin drank, and, sinking back, said "Cher ami!" and died.

Gutmann preserved the glass with the marks of Chopin's lips on it till

the end of his life.

[FOOTNOTE: In B. Stavenow's sketch already more than once alluded to

by me, we read that Chopin, after having wetted his lips with the water

brought him by Gutmann, raised the latter's hand, kissed it, and with

the words "Cher ami!" breathed his last in the arms of his pupil, whose

sorrow was so great that Count Gryzmala was obliged to lead him out of

the room. Liszt's account is slightly different. "Who is near me?" asked

Chopin, with a scarcely audible voice. He bent his head to kiss the hand

of Gutmann who supported him, giving up his soul in this last proof of

friendship and gratitude. He died as he had lived, loving.]

M. Gavard describes the closing hours of Chopin's life as follows:--

The whole evening of the 16th passed in litanies; we gave the

responses, but Chopin remained silent. Only from his difficult

breathing could one perceive that he was still alive. That

evening two doctors examined him. One of them, Dr. Cruveille,

took a candle, and, holding it before Chopin's face, which had

become quite black from suffocation, remarked to us that the

senses had already ceased to act. But when he asked Chopin

whether he suffered, we heard, still quite distinctly, the

answer "No longer" [Plus]. This was the last word I heard from

his lips. He died painlessly between three and four in the

morning [of October 17, 1849]. When I saw him some hours

afterwards, the calm of death had given again to his

countenance the grand character which we find in the mould

taken the same day [by Clesinger], and still more in the

simple pencil sketch which was drawn by the hand of a friend,

M. Kwiatkowski. This picture of Chopin is the one I like best.

Liszt, too, reports that Chopin's face resumed an unwonted youth,

purity, and calm; that his youthful beauty so long eclipsed by suffering

reappeared. Common as the phenomenon is, there can be nothing more

significant, more impressive, more awful, than this throwing-off in

death of the marks of care, hardship, vice, and disease--the corruption

of earthly life; than this return to the innocence, serenity, and

loveliness of a first and better nature; than this foreshadowing of

a higher and more perfect existence. Chopin's love of flowers was not

forgotten by those who had cherished and admired him now when his soul

and body were parted. "The bed on which he lay," relates Liszt, "the

whole room, disappeared under their varied colours; he seemed to repose

in a garden." It was a Polish custom, which is not quite obsolete even

now, for the dying to choose for themselves the garments in which they

wished to be dressed before being laid in the coffin (indeed, some

people had their last habiliments prepared long before the approach of

their end); and the pious, more especially of the female sex, affected

conventual vestments, men generally preferring their official attire.

That Chopin chose for his grave-clothes his dress-suit, his official

attire, in which he presented himself to his audiences in concert-hall

and salon, cannot but be regarded as characteristic of the man, and is

perhaps more significant than appears at first sight. But I ought to

have said, it would be if it were true that Chopin really expressed the

wish. M. Kwiatkowski informed me that this was not so.

For some weeks after, from the 18th October onwards, the French press

occupied itself a good deal with the deceased musician. There was not, I

think, a single Paris paper of note which did not bring one or more long

articles or short notes regretting the loss, describing the end, and

estimating the man and artist. But the phenomenal ignorance, exuberance

of imagination, and audacity of statement, manifested by almost every

one of the writers of these articles and notes are sufficient to destroy

one's faith in journalism completely and for ever. Among the offenders

were men of great celebrity, chief among them Theophile Gautier

(Feuilleton de la Presse, November 5, 1849) and Jules Janin (Feuilleton

du Journal des Debuts, October 22, 1849), the latter's performance being

absolutely appalling. Indeed, if we must adjudge to French journalists

the palm for gracefulness and sprightliness, we cannot withhold it from

them for unconscientiousness. Some of the inventions of journalism, I

suspect, were subsequently accepted as facts, in some cases perhaps

even assimilated as items of their experience, by the friends of the

deceased, and finally found their way into AUTHENTIC biography. One

of these myths is that Chopin expressed the wish that Mozart's Requiem

should be performed at his funeral. Berlioz, one of the many journalists

who wrote at the time to this effect, adds (Feuilleton du Journal des

Debuts, October 27, 1849) that "His [Chopin's] worthy pupil received

this wish with his last sigh." Unfortunately for Berlioz and this pretty

story, Gutmann told me that Chopin did not express such a wish; and

Franchomme made to me the same statement. I must, [I must, however, not

omit to mention here that M. Charles Gavard says that Chopin drew up

the programme of his funeral, and asked that on that occasion Mozart's

Requiem should be performed.] Also the story about Chopin's wish to be

buried beside Bellini is, according to the latter authority, a baseless

invention. This is also the place to dispose of the question: What was

done with Chopin's MSS.? The reader may know that the composer is said

to have caused all his MSS. to be burnt. Now, this is not true. From

Franchomme I learned that what actually took place was this. Pleyel

asked Chopin what was to be done with the MSS. Chopin replied that

they were to be distributed among his friends, that none were to be

published, and that fragments were to be destroyed. Of the pianoforte

school which Chopin is said to have had the intention to write, nothing

but scraps, if anything, can have been found.

M. Gavard pere made the arrangements for the funeral, which, owing to

the extensiveness of the preparations, did not take place till the 30th

of October. Ready assistance was given by M. Daguerry, the curate of the

Madeleine, where the funeral service was to be held; and thanks to him

permission was received for the introduction of female singers into the

church, without whom the performance of Mozart's Requiem would have been

an impossibility.

Numerous equipages [says Eugene Guinot in the Feuilleton du

Siecle of November 4] encumbered last Tuesday the large

avenues of the Madeleine church, and the crowd besieged the

doors of the Temple where one was admitted only on presenting

a letter of invitation. Mourning draperies announced a funeral

ceremony, and in seeing this external pomp, this concourse of

carriages and liveried servants, and this privilege which

permitted only the elect to enter the church, the curious

congregated on the square asked: "Who is the great lord [grand

seigneur] whom they are burying?" As if there were still

grands seigneurs! Within, the gathering was brilliant; the

elite of Parisian society, all the strangers of distinction

which Paris possesses at this moment, were to be found

there...

Many writers complain of the exclusiveness which seems to have presided

at the sending out of invitations. M. Guinot remarks in reference to

this point:

His testamentary executors [executrices] organised this

solemnity magnificently. But, be it from premeditation or from

forgetfulness, they completely neglected to invite to the

ceremony most of the representatives of the musical world.

Members of the Institute, celebrated artists, notable writers,

tried in vain to elude the watch-word [consigne] and penetrate

into the church, where the women were in a very great

majority. Some had come from London, Vienna, and Berlin.

In continuation of my account of the funeral service I shall quote from

a report in the Daily News of November 2, 1849:--

The coffin was under a catafalque which stood in the middle of

the area. The semicircular space behind the steps of the altar

was screened by a drapery of black cloth, which being

festooned towards the middle, gave a partial view of the vocal

and instrumental orchestra, disposed not in the usual form of

a gradual ascent from the front to the back, but only on the

level of the floor....

The doors of the church were opened at eleven o'clock, and at

noon (the time fixed for the commencement of the funeral

service) the vast area was filled by an assembly of nearly

three thousand persons, all of whom had received special

invitations, as being entitled from rank, from station in the

world of art and literature, or from friendship for the

lamented deceased, to be present on so solemn and melancholy

an occasion.

A trustworthy account of the whole ceremony, and especially a clear and

full report of the musical part of the service, we find in a letter

from the Paris correspondent of The Musical World (November 10, 1849).

I shall quote some portions of this letter, accompanying them with

elucidatory and supplementary notes:--

The ceremony, which took place on Tuesday (the 30th ult.), at

noon, in the church of the Madeleine, was one of the most

imposing we ever remember to have witnessed. The great door of

the church was hung with black curtains, with the initials of

the deceased, "F. C.," emblazoned in silver. On our entry we

found the vast area of the modern Parthenon entirely crowded.

Nave, aisles, galleries, &c., were alive with human beings who

had come to see the last of Frederick Chopin. Many, perhaps,

had never heard of him before....In the space that separates

the nave from the choir, a lofty mausoleum had been erected,

hung with black and silver drapery, with the initials "F.C."

emblazoned on the pall. At noon the service began. The

orchestra and chorus (both from the Conservatoire, with M.

Girard as conductor and the principal singers (Madame Viardot-

Garcia, Madame Castellan, Signor Lablache, and M. Alexis

Dupont)) were placed at the extreme end of the church, a black

drapery concealing them from view.

[FOOTNOTE: This statement is confirmed by one in the Gazette

musicals, where we read that the members of the Societe des

Concerts "have made themselves the testamentary executors of

this wish"--namely, to have Mozart's Requiem performed. Madame

Audley, misled, I think, by a dubious phrase of Karasowski's,

that has its origin in a by no means dubious phrase of

Liszt's, says that Meyerbeer conducted (dirigeait l'ensemble).

Liszt speaks of the conducting of the funeral procession.]

When the service commenced the drapery was partially withdrawn

and exposed the male executants to view, concealing the women,

whose presence, being uncanonical, was being felt, not seen. A

solemn march was then struck up by the band, during the

performance of which the coffin containing the body of the

deceased was slowly carried up the middle of the nave...As

soon as the coffin was placed in the mausoleum, Mozart's

Requiem was begun...The march that accompanied the body to the

mausoleum was Chopin's own composition from his first

pianoforte sonata, instrumented for the orchestra by M. Henri

Reber.

[FOOTNOTE: Op. 35, the first of those then published, but in

reality his second, Op. 4 being the first. Meyerbeer

afterwards expressed to M. Charles Gavard his surprise that he

had not been asked to do the deceased the homage of scoring

the march.]

During the ceremony M. Lefebure-Wely, organist of the

Madeleine, performed two of Chopin's preludes [FOOTNOTE: Nos.

4 and 6, in E and B minor] upon the organ...After the service

M. Wely played a voluntary, introducing themes from Chopin's

compositions, while the crowd dispersed with decorous gravity.

The coffin was then carried from the church, all along the

Boulevards, to the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise-a distance of

three miles at least--Meyerbeer and the other chief mourners,

who held the cords, walking on foot, bareheaded.

[FOOTNOTE: Liszt writes that Meyerbeer and Prince Adam

Czartoryski conducted the funeral procession, and that Prince

Alexander Czartoryski, Delacroix, Franchomme, and Gutmann were

the pall-bearers. Karasowski mentions the same gentlemen as

pall-bearers; Madame Audley, on the other hand, names

Meyerbeer instead of Gutmann. Lastly, Theophile Gautier

reported in the Feuilleton de la Presse of November 5, 1849,

that MM. Meyerbeer, Eugene Delacroix, Franchomme, and Pleyel

held the cords of the pall. The Gazette musicale mentions

Franchomme, Delacroix, Meyerbeer, and Czartoryski.]

A vast number of carriages followed...

[FOOTNOTE: "Un grand nombre de voitures de deuil et de

voitures particulieres," we read in the Gazette musicals, "ont

suivi jusqu'au cimetiere de l'Est, dit du Pere-Lachaise, le

pompeux corbillard qui portait le corps du defunt. L'elite des

artistes de Paris lui a servi de cortege. Plusieurs dames, ses

eleves, en grand deuil, ont suivi le convoi, a pied, jusqu'au

champ de repos, ou l'artiste eminent, convaincu, a eu pour

oraisons funebres des regrets muets, profondement sentis, qui

valent mieux que des discours dans lesquels perce toujours une

vanite d'auteur ou d'orateur"]

At Pere-Lachaise, in one of the most secluded spots, near the

tombs of Habeneck and Marie Milanollo, the coffin was

deposited in a newly-made grave. The friends and admirers took

a last look, ladies in deep mourning threw garlands and

flowers upon the coffin, and then the gravedigger resumed his

work...The ceremony was performed in silence.

One affecting circumstance escaped the attention of our otherwise so

acute observer--namely, the sprinkling on the coffin, when the latter

had been lowered into the grave, of the Polish earth which, enclosed in

a finely-wrought silver cup, loving friends had nearly nineteen years

before, in the village of Wola, near Warsaw, given to the departing

young and hopeful musician who was never to see his country again.

Chopin's surroundings at Pere-Lachaise are most congenial. Indeed,

the neighbourhood forms quite a galaxy of musical talent--close by lie

Cherubini, Bellini, Gretry, Boieldieu, Bocquillon-Wilhem, Louis Duport,

and several of the Erard family; farther away, Ignace Pleyel, Rodolphe

Kreutzer, Pierre Galin, Auguste Panseron, Mehul, and Paer. Some of

these, however, had not yet at that time taken possession of their

resting-places there, and Bellini has since then (September 15, 1876)

been removed by his compatriots, to his birthplace, Catania, in Sicily.

Not the whole of Chopin's body, however, was buried at Pere-Lachaise;

his heart was conveyed to his native country and is preserved in the

Holy Cross Church at Warsaw, where at the end of 1879 or beginning of

1880 a monument was erected, consisting of a marble bust of the composer

in a marble niche. Soon after Chopin's death voluntary contributions

were collected, and a committee under Delacroix's presidence was formed,

for the erection of a monument, the execution of which was entrusted to

Clesinger, the husband of Madame Sand's daughter, Solange. Although

the sculptor's general idea is good--a pedestal bearing on its front a

medallion, and surmounted by a mourning muse with a neglected lyre in

her hand--the realisation leaves much to be desired. This monument was

unveiled in October, 1850, on the anniversary of Chopin's death.

[FOOTNOTE: On the pedestal of the monument are to be read besides the

words "A. Frederic Chopin" above the medallion, "Ses amis" under the

medallion, and the name of the sculptor and the year of its production

(J. Clesinger, 1850), the following incorrect biographical data:

"Frederic Chopin, ne en Pologne a Zelazowa Wola pres de Varsovie: Fils

d'un emigre francais, marie a Mile. Krzyzanowska, fille d'un gentilhomme

Polonais."]

The friends of the composer, as we learn from an account in John Bull

(October 26, 1850), assembled in the little chapel of Pere-Lachaise, and

after a religious service proceeded with the officiating priest at their

head to Chopin's grave. The monument was then unveiled, flowers and

garlands were scattered over and around it, prayers were said, and M.

Wolowski, the deputy, [FOOTNOTE: Louis Francois Michel Raymond Wolowski,

political economist, member of the Academie des Sciences Morales, and

member of the Constituante. A Pole by birth, he became a naturalised

French subject in 1834.] endeavoured to make a speech, but was so much

moved that he could only say a few words.

[FOOTNOTE: In the Gazette muticale of October 20, 1850, we read: "Une

messe commemorative a ete dite jeudi dernier [i.e., on the 17th] dans la

chapelle du cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise a la memoire de Frederic Chopin

et pour l'inauguration de son monument funebre."]

The Menestrel of November 3, 1850, informed its readers that in the

course of the week (it was on the 30th October at eleven o'clock) an

anniversary mass had been celebrated at the Madeleine in honour of

Chopin, at which from two to three hundred of his friends were present,

and that Franchomme on the violoncello and Lefebure-Wely on the organ

had played some of the departed master's preludes, or, to quote our

authority literally, "ont redit aux assistants emus les preludes si

pleins de melancolie de I'illustre defunt."

EPILOGUE.

We have followed Chopin from his birthplace, Zelazowa Wola, to Warsaw,

where he passed his childhood and youth, and received his musical as

well as his general education; we have followed him in his holiday

sojourns in the country, and on his more distant journeys to Reinerz,

Berlin, and Vienna; we have followed him when he left his native

country and, for further improvement, settled for a time in the Austrian

capital; we have followed him subsequently to Paris, which thenceforth

became his home; and we have followed him to his various lodgings there

and on the journeys and in the sojourns elsewhere--to 27, Boulevard

Poissonniere, to 5 and 38, Chaussee d'Antin, to Aix-la-Chapelle,

Carlsbad, Leipzig, Heidelberg, Marienbad, and London, to Majorca, to

Nohant, to 5, Rue Tronchet, 16, Rue Pigalle, and 9, Square d'Orleans,

to England and Scotland, to 9, Square d'Orleans once more, Rue Chaillot,

and 12, Place Vendome; and, lastly, to the Pere-Lachaise cemetery. We

have considered him as a pupil at the Warsaw Lyceum and as a student of

music under the tuition of Zywny and Elsner; we have considered him as a

son and as a brother, as a lover and as a friend, as a man of the world

and as a man of business; and we have considered him as a virtuoso, as a

teacher, and as a composer. Having done all this, there remains only one

thing for me to do--namely, to summarise the thousands of details of the

foregoing account, and to point out what this artist was to his and is

to our time. But before doing this I ought perhaps to answer a question

which the reader may have asked himself. Why have I not expressed an

opinion on the moral aspect of Chopin's connection with George Sand?

My explanation shall be brief. I abstained from pronouncing judgment

because the incomplete evidence did not seem to me to warrant my doing

so. A full knowledge of all the conditions and circumstances. I hold

to be indispensable if justice is to be done; the rash and ruthless

application of precepts drawn from the social conventions of the day are

not likely to attain that end. Having done my duty in placing before the

reader the ascertainable evidence, I leave him at liberty to decide on

it according to his wisdom and charity.

Henri Blaze de Bury describes (in Etudes et Souvenirs) the portrait

which Ary Scheffer painted of Chopin in these words:--

It represents him about this epoch [when "neither physical nor

moral consumption of any kind prevented him from attending

freely to his labours as well as to his pleasures"], slender,

and in a nonchalant attitude, gentlemanlike in the highest

degree: the forehead superb, the hands of a rare distinction,

the eyes small, the nose prominent, but the mouth of an

exquisite fineness and gently closed, as if to keep back a

melody that wishes to escape.

M. Marmontel, with, "his [Chopin's] admirable portrait" by Delacroix

before him, penned the following description:--

This is the Chopin of the last years, ailing, broken by

suffering; the physiognomy already marked by the last seal [le

sceau supreme], the look dreamy, melancholy, floating between

heaven and earth, in the limbos of dream and agony. The

attenuated and lengthened features are strongly accentuated:

the relief stands out boldly, but the lines of the countenance

remain beautiful; the oval of the face, the aquiline nose and

its harmonious curve, give to this sickly physiognomy the

stamp of poetic distinction peculiar to Chopin.

Poetic distinction, exquisite refinement, and a noble bearing are the

characteristics which strike one in all portraits of Chopin, [FOOTNOTE:

See Appendix IV.] and which struck the beholder still more strongly in

the real Chopin, where they were reinforced by the gracefulness of his

movements, and by manners that made people involuntarily treat him as

a prince...[FOOTNOTE: See my description of Chopin, based on the most

reliable information, in Chapter XX.] And pervading and tincturing every

part of the harmonious whole of Chopin's presence there was delicacy,

which was indeed the cardinal factor in the shaping not only of his

outward conformation, but also of his character, life, and art-practice.

Physical delicacy brought with it psychical delicacy, inducing a

delicacy of tastes, habits, and manners, which early and continued

intercourse with the highest aristocracy confirmed and developed.

Many of the charming qualities of the man and artist derive from this

delicacy. But it is likewise the source of some of the deficiencies and

weaknesses in the man and artist. His exclusiveness, for instance, is,

no doubt, chargeable to the superlative sensitiveness which shrank from

everything that failed to satisfy his fastidious, exacting nature, and

became more and more morbid as delicacy, of which it was a concomitant,

degenerated into disease. Yet, notwithstanding the lack of robustness

and all it entails, Chopin might have been moderately happy, perhaps

even have continued to enjoy moderately good health, if body and soul

had been well matched. This, however, was not the case. His thoughts

were too big, his passions too violent, for the frail frame that held

them; and the former grew bigger and more violent as the latter grew

frailer and frailer. He could not realise his aspirations, could not

compass his desires, in short, could not fully assert himself. Here,

indeed, we have lit upon the tragic motive of Chopin's life-drama,

and the key to much that otherwise would be enigmatical, certainly not

explicable by delicacy and disease alone. His salon acquaintances, who

saw only the polished outside of the man, knew nothing of this disparity

and discrepancy; and even the select few of his most intimate friends,

from whom he was not always able to conceal the irritation that gnawed

at his heart, hardly more than guessed the true state of matters. In

fact, had not Chopin been an artist, the tale of his life would have

for ever remained a tale untold. But in his art, as an executant and a

composer, he revealed all his strength and weakness, all his excellences

and insufficiencies, all his aspirations and failures, all his successes

and disappointments, all his dreams and realities.

Chopin [wrote Anton Schindler in 1841] [FOOTNOTE: Beethoven in

Paris, p. 71] is the prince of all pianists, poesy itself at

the piano... His playing does not impress by powerfulness of

touch, by fiery brilliancy, for Chopin's physical condition

forbids him every bodily exertion, and spirit and body are

constantly at variance and in reciprocal excitement. The

cardinal virtue of this great master in pianoforte-playing

lies in the perfect truth of the expression of every feeling

within his reach [dessen er sich bemeistern darf], which is

altogether inimitable and might lead to caricature were

imitatior attempted.

Chopin was not a virtuoso in the ordinary sense of the word. His sphere

was the reunion intime, not the mixed crowd of concert audiences. If,

however, human testimony is worth anything, we may take it as proven

that there never was a pianist whose playing exercised a charm equal to

that of Chopin. But, as Liszt has said, it is impossible to make those

who have not heard him understand this subtle, penetrating charm of an

ineffable poesy. If words could give an idea of Chopin's playing, it

would be given by such expressions as "legerete impalpable," "palais

aeriens de la Fata Morgana," "wundersam und marchenhaft," and other

similar ones used with regard to it by men who may safely be accepted as

authorities.

As a pianist Chopin was sorely restricted by lack of physical vigour,

which obliged him often to merely suggest, and even to leave not a

little wholly unexpressed. His range as a composer was much wider, as

its limits were those of his spirit. Still, Chopin does not number among

those masterminds who gather up and grasp with a strong hand all the

acquisitions of the past and present, and mould them into a new and

glorious synthesis-the highest achievement possible in art, and not to

be accomplished without a liberal share of originality in addition to

the comprehensive power. Chopin, then, is not a compeer of Bach, Handel,

Mozart, and Beethoven. But if he does not stand on their level, he

stands on a level not far below them. And if the inferiority of his

intellectual stamina prevented him from achieving what they achieved,

his delicate sensibility and romantic imagination enabled him to achieve

what they were disqualified from achieving. Of universality there

was not a trace in him, but his individuality is one of the most

interesting. The artistico-historical importance of Chopin lies in his

having added new elements to music, originated means of expression for

the communication and discrimination of moods and emotions, and shades

of moods and emotions, that up to his time had belonged to the realm of

the unuttered and unutterable. Notwithstanding the high estimation

in which Chopin is held, it seems to me that his importance for the

development of the art is not rated at its full value. His influence on

composers for the pianoforte, both as regards style and subject-matter,

is generally understood; but the same cannot be said of his less obvious

wider influence. Indeed, nothing is more common than to overlook his

connection with the main current of musical history altogether, to

regard him as a mere hors d'oeuvre in the musical MENU of the universe.

My opinion, on the contrary, is that among the notable composers who

have lived since the days of Chopin there is not to be found one who

has not profited more or less, consciously or unconsciously, directly

or indirectly, by this truly creative genius. To trace his influence

we must transport ourselves back fifty or sixty years, and see what

the state of music then was, what composers expressed and what means of

expression they had at their disposal. Much that is now familiar, nay,

even commonplace, was then a startling novelty. The appearance of Chopin

was so wonderful a phenomenon that it produced quite an electrical

effect upon Schumann. "Come," said Berlioz to Legouve in the first

years of the fourth decade of this century, "I am going to let you see

something which you have never seen, and someone whom you will never

forget." This something and someone was Chopin. Mendelssohn being

questioned about his enthusiasm for one of this master's preludes

replied: "I love it, I cannot tell you how much, or why; except,

perhaps, that it is something which I could never have written at

all." Of course, Chopin's originality was not universally welcomed

and appreciated. Mendelssohn, for instance, was rather repelled than

attracted by it; at any rate, in his letters there are to be found

frequent expressions of antipathy to Chopin's music, which seemed to

him" mannered "(see letter to Moscheles of February 7, 1835). But even

the heartless and brainless critic of the Musical World whose nonsense I

quoted in Chapter XXXI. admits that Chopin was generally esteemed by the

"professed classical musicians," and that the name of the admirers

of the master's compositions was legion. To the early popularity of

Chopin's music testify also the many arrangements for other instruments

(the guitar not excepted) and even for voices (for instance, OEuvres

celebres de Chopin, transcrites a une ou deux voix egales par Luigi

Bordese) to which his compositions were subjected. This popularity was,

however, necessarily limited, limited in extent or intensity. Indeed,

popular, in the comprehensive sense of the word, Chopin's compositions

can never become. To understand them fully we must have something of

the author's nature, something of his delicate sensibility and romantic

imagination. To understand him we must, moreover, know something of

his life and country. For, as Balzac truly remarked, Chopin was less a

musician than une ame qui se rend sensible. In short, his compositions

are the "celestial echo of what he had felt, loved, and suffered"; they

are his memoirs, his autobiography, which, like that of every poet,

assumes the form of "Truth and Poetry."

APPENDICES.

APPENDIX I.

THE GOLDEN AGE OP POLISH MUSIC.

(VOL. I., p. 66.)

As yet it is difficult to speak with any degree of certainty of the

early musical history of Poland. Our general histories of music have

little or nothing to say on the matter, and a special history exists

neither in the Polish nor in any other language. The Abbe Joseph

Surzynski, who by his labours is endeavouring to remove the reproach of

indifference and ignorance now lying on his countrymen in this respect,

says: [FOOTNOTE: In the preface to the Monumenta Musices sacra, selected

works of the best composers of classical religious music in Poland,

published by him. The first two parts of this publication, respectively

issued in 1885 and 1887, contain compositions by Thomas Szadek, Nicolas

Zielenski, G. G. Gorczycki, Venceslas, Szamotulski, and Sebastian

of Felsztyn.] "The compositions of our old masters are buried in the

archives and libraries--no one cares to make them known to the public;

many Polish musicians, not even supposing that these compositions exist,

are very far from believing that the authors of these pieces deserve to

be ranked with the best composers of the Roman Catholic Church. Now, in

studying these works, we find in the century of Palestrina and Vittoria

among our artists: Marcin ze Lwowa (Martin Leopolita), Christopher

Borek, Thomas Szadek, Venceslas Szamotulski, and especially Zielenski

and Gomolka--distinguished masters who deserve to be known by the

friends of the musical art, either on account of their altogether

national genius, or on account of their inspiration and the perfection

of the forms which manifest themselves in their compositions." One of

the first illustrious names in the history of music in Poland is the

German Henry Finck, the chapel-master of the Polish Kings, John Albert

(1492-1501) and Alexander (1501-1506). From the fact that this excellent

master got his musical education in Poland we may safely conclude--and

it is not the only fact which justifies our doing so--that in that

country already in the fifteenth century good contrapuntists were to

be found. The Abbe Surzynski regards Zielenski as the best of the

early composers, having been impressed both by the profound religious

inspiration and the classical form of his works. Of Gomolka, who has

been called the Polish Palestrina as Sebastian of Felsztyn the Polish

Goudimel, the Abbe remarks: "Among the magnificent musical works of

Martin Leopolita, Szadek, and Zielenski, the compositions of Gomolka

present themselves like miniature water-colours, in which, nevertheless,

every line, every colour, betrays the painter of genius. His was a

talent thoroughly indigenous--his compositions are of great simplicity;

no too complicated combinations of parts, one might even say that they

are homophonous; nevertheless what wealth of thought, what beauty of

harmony, what profoundness of sentiment do we find there! These simple

melodies clothed in pure and truly holy harmonies, written, as Gomolka

said himself, not for the Italians, but for the Poles, who are happy

in their own country, are the best specimens of the national style. "In

speaking of the early Polish church music I must not forget to mention

the famous College of the Roratists, [FOOTNOTE: The duties of these

singers were to sing Rorate masses and Requiem masses for the royal

family. Their name was derived from the opening word of the Introit,

"Rorate coeli."] the Polish Sistine Chapel, attached to the Cracow

Cathedral. It was founded in 1543 and subsisted till 1760. With the

fifteenth of seventeen conductors of the college, Gregor Gorczycki, who

died in 1734, passed away the last of the classical school of Polish

church music. Music was diligently cultivated in the seventeenth

century, especially under the reigns of Sigismund III. (1587-1632), and

Wladislaw IV. (1632-1648); but no purpose would be served by crowding

these pages with unknown names of musicians about whom only scanty

information is available; I may, however, mention the familiar names of

three of many Italian composers who, in the seventeenth century, like

many more of their countrymen, passed a great part of their lives in

Poland--namely, Luca Marenzio, Asprilio Pacelii, and Marco Scacchi.

APPENDIX II.

EARLY PERFORMANCES OF CHOPIN'S WORKS IN GERMANY.

(VOL. I., p. 268.)

The first performance of a composition by Chopin at the Leipzig

Gewandhaus took place on October 27, 1831. It was his Op. 1, the

variations on La ci darem la mano, which Julius Knorr played at a

concert for the benefit of the Pension-fund of the orchestra, but not

so as to give the audience pleasure--at least, this was the opinion of

Schumann, as may be seen from his letter to Frederick Wieck of January

4, 1832. Chopin relates already on June 5, 1830, that Emilie Belleville

knew his variations by heart and had played them in Vienna. Clara Wieck

was one of the first who performed Chopin's compositions in public. On

September 29, 1833, she played at a Leipzig Gewandhaus concert the last

movement of the E minor Concerto, and on May 5, 1834, in the same hall

at an extra concert, the whole work and two Etudes. Further information

about the introduction and repetitions of Chopin's compositions at the

Leipzig Gewandhaus, is to be found in the statistical part (p. 13) of

Alfred Dorffel's Die Gewandhausconcerte.

APPENDIX III.

MADAME SCHUMANN ON CHOPIN'S VISIT TO LEIPZIG.

(VOL. I., p. 290.)

Through a kind communication from Madame Schumann I have learned that

Wenzel's account does not quite agree with her diary. There she finds

written that her father, Friedrich Wieck, felt offended because Chopin,

for whose recognition in Germany he had done so much, had not called

upon him immediately after his arrival. Chopin made his appearance only

two hours before his departure, but then did not find Wieck at home, for

he, to avoid Chopin, had gone out and had also taken his daughter Clara

with him. When Wieck returned an hour later, he found unexpectedly

Chopin still there. Clara had now to play to the visitor. She let

him hear Schumann's F sharp minor Sonata, two Etudes by Chopin, and a

movement of a Concerto by herself. After this Chopin played his E

flat major Nocturne. By degrees Wieck's wrath subsided, and finally he

accompanied Chopin to the post-house, and parted from him in the most

friendly mood.

APPENDIX IV.

REBECCA DIRICHLET ON CHOPIN AT MARIENBAD.

(VOL. I., p. 309.)

When Rebecca Dirichlet came with her husband to Marienbad, she learnt

that Chopin did not show himself, and that his physician and a Polish

countess, who completely monopolised him, did not allow him to play.

Having, however, heard so much of his playing from her brothers,

she was, in order to satisfy her curiosity, even ready to commit the

bassesse of presenting herself as the soeur de Messieurs Paul et Felix

Mendelssohn Bartholdy. As she humorously wrote a few days later: "The

bassesse towards Chopin has been committed and has completely

failed. Dirichlet went to him, and said that a soeur, &c.--only a

mazurka--impossible, mal aux nerfs, mauvais piano--et comment se porte

cette chere Madame Hensel, el Paul est marie? heureux couple, &c.--allez

vous promener--the first and the last time that we do such a thing."

APPENDIX V.

PALMA AND VALDEMOSA.

(VOL. II., pp. 22-48.)

The Argosy of 1888 contains a series of Letters from Majorca by Charles

W. Wood, illustrated by views of Palma, Valdemosa, and other parts of

the island. The illustrations in the April number comprise a general

view of the monastery of Valdemosa, and views of one of its courts and

of the cloister in which is situated the cell occupied by George Sand

and Chopin in the winter of 1838-1839. The cloister has a groined vault,

on one side the cell doors, and on the other side, opening on the court,

doors and rectangular windows with separate circular windows above them.

The letters have been republished in book form (London: Bentley and

Sons).

APPENDIX VI.

On Tempo Rubato.

(VOL. II., p. 101.)

An earlier practiser of the tempo rubato than the lady mentioned by

Quanz (see Vol. II., p. 101 of this work) was Girolamo Frescobaldi, who

speaks of this manner of musical rendering in the preface to Il primo

libra di Capricci fatti sopra diversi sogetti et Arie in partitura

(1624). An extract from this preface is to be found in A. G. Ritter's

Zur Geschichte des Orgelspiels, Vol. I., p. 34. F. X. Haberl remarks

in the preface to his collection of pieces by Frescobaldi (Leipzig:

Breitkopf and Hartel): "A chief trait of Frescobaldi's genius is the

so-called tempo rubato, an absolute freedom in the employment of a

quicker and slower tempo."

APPENDIX VII.

CAROLINE HARTMANN.

(VOL. II., p. 171.)

On page 175 of this volume I made an allusion to Spohr in connection

with Chopin's pupil Caroline Hartmann. To save the curious reader

trouble, I had better point out that the information is to be found in

Spohr's autobiography under date Munster, near Colmar, March 26, 1816

(German edition, pp. 245-250; English edition, pp. 229-232). Jacques

Hartmann, the father of Caroline, was a cotton manufacturer and an

enthusiastic lover of music. He had an orchestra consisting of his

family and employes. Spohr calls the father a bassoon-virtuoso; what

he says of the daughter will be seen in the following sentences: "His

sister and his daughter play the pianoforte. The latter, a child eight

years old, is the star of the amateur orchestra. She plays with a

dexterity and exactness that are worthy of admiration. I was still

more astonished at her fine ear, with which (away from the piano) she

recognises the intervals of the most intricate and full dissonant chords

which one strikes, and names the notes of which they consist in their

sequence. If the child is well guided, she is sure to become one day an

excellent artist."

APPENDIX VIII.

MADAME PERUZZI.

(VOL. II., p. 177.)

The reader will be as grateful as I am for the following interesting

communications of Madame Peruzzi (nee Elise Eustaphieve, whose father

was Russian Consul-General to the United States of America) about her

intercourse with Chopin.

"I first met Chopin at the house of the American banker, Samuel Welles,

in Paris, where I, like every one present, was enchanted listening to

his mazurkas, waltzes, nocturnes, &c., which he played on a wretched

square piano. I lived as dame en chambre (a very convenient custom for

ladies alone), at a pension, or rather a regular boarding-school, with

rooms to let for ladies. The lady of the house was acquainted with many

of the musical people, and I had a splendid American grand piano which

was placed in the large drawing-room of the establishment, so that I

felt quite at home, and there received Chopin, Liszt, and Herz (Miss

Herz, his sister, gave lessons in the school), and often played

four-hand pieces with them.

"My intimacy with Chopin began after my marriage. He often dined with

us, was very fond of my husband, and after dinner we were not at home

if any one else came, but remained at our two pianos (Erard had sent me

one), playing together, and I used to amuse him by picking out of his

music little bits that seemed like questions for him to answer on the

other piano. He lived very near us, so we very often passed mornings at

his house, where he asked me to play with him all Weber's duets. This

was delightful to me, the more so, as he complimented me on my reading

and entering at first sight into the spirit of the music. He made me

acquainted with the beautiful duet of Moscheles, and was the first with

whom I played Hummel's splendid duet. He was a great admirer of Weber.

We frequently had morning concerts with double quartet, and Chopin would

very kindly turn the leaves for me. He was particularly fond of doing so

when I played Hummel's Septet, and was so encouraging. Even when playing

to him his own music, he would approve some little thing not indicated

and say, 'What a good idea of yours that is!' My husband begged him to

give me lessons; but he always refused, and did give them; for I studied

so many things with him, among others his two concertos. The one in E

minor I once played accompanied by himself on a second piano. We passed

many pleasant evenings at Mr. and Madame Leo's house, a very musical

one. Madame Moscheles was a niece of theirs. Chopin was fond of going

there, where he was quite a pet. He always appeared to best advantage

among his most intimate friends. I was one who helped to christen the

Berceuse. You ask me in what years I knew Chopin, 1838 is the date of

the manuscript in my collection which he gave me after I was married,

and the last notes of that little jewel he wrote on the desk of the

piano in our presence. He said it would not be published because they

would play it....Then he would show how they would play it, which was

very funny. It came out after his death, it is a kind of waltz-mazurka

[the Valse, Op. 69, No. I], Chopin's intimate friend, Camille Pleyel,

called it the story of a D flat, because that note comes in constantly.

One morning we took Paganini to hear Chopin, and he was enchanted;

they seemed to understand each other so well. When I knew him he was a

sufferer and would only occasionally play in public, and then place his

piano in the middle of Pleyel's room whilst his admirers were around

the piano. His speciality was extreme delicacy, and his pianissimo

extraordinary. Every little note was like a bell, so clear. His fingers

seemed to be without any bones; but he would bring out certain effects

by great elasticity. He got very angry at being accused of not keeping

time; calling his left hand his maitre de chapelle and allowing his

right to wander about ad libitum."

APPENDIX IX.

MADAME STREICHER'S (nee FRIEDERIKE MULLER) RECOLLECTIONS OF CHOPIN,

BASED ON EXTRACTS FROM HER CAREFULLY-KEPT DIARY OF THE YEARS 1839, 1840,

AND 1841. (VOL. II., p. 177.)

In March, 1839, I went to Paris, accompanied by a kind aunt, who was

a highly-cultured musical connoisseur, animated by the wish to get

if possible lessons from Chopin, whose compositions inspired me with

enthusiasm. But he was from home and very ill; indeed, it was feared he

would not return to Paris even in the winter. However, at last, at

last, in October, 1839, he came. I had employed this long time in making

myself acquainted with the musical world in Paris, but the more I heard,

nay, even admired, the more was my intention to wait till Chopin's

return confirmed. And I was quite right.

On the 30th of October, 1839, we, my kind aunt and I, went to him. At

that time he lived in Rue Tronchet, No. 5. Anxiously I handed him my

letters of introduction from Vienna, and begged him to take me as a

pupil. He said very politely, but very formally: "You have played with

applause at a matinee at the house of Countess Appony, the wife of the

Austrian ambassador, and will hardly require my instruction." I became

afraid, for I was wise enough to understand he had not the least

inclination to accept me as a pupil. I quickly protested that I knew

very well I had still very, very much to learn. And, I added timidly,

I should like to be able to play his wondrously-beautiful compositions

well. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "it would be sad if people were not in a

position to play them well without my instruction." "I certainly am not

able to do so," I replied anxiously. "Well, play me something," he said.

And in a moment his reserve had vanished. Kindly and indulgently he

helped me to overcome my timidity, moved the piano, inquired whether I

were comfortably seated, let me play till I had become calm, then gently

found fault with my stiff wrist, praised my correct comprehension, and

accepted me as a pupil. He arranged for two lessons a week, then turned

in the most amiable way to my aunt, excusing himself beforehand if he

should often be obliged to change the day and hour of the lesson on

account of his delicate health. His servant would always inform us of

this.

Alas! he suffered greatly. Feeble, pale, coughing much, he often took

opium drops on sugar and gum-water, rubbed his forehead with eau de

Cologne, and nevertheless he taught with a patience, perseverance,

and zeal which were admirable. His lessons always lasted a full hour,

generally he was so kind as to make them longer. Mikuli says: "A holy

artistic zeal burnt in him then, every word from his lips was incentive

and inspiring. Single lessons often lasted literally for hours at a

stretch, till exhaustion overcame master and pupil." There were for me

also such blessed lessons. Many a Sunday I began at one o'clock to play

at Chopin's, and only at four or five o'clock in the afternoon did he

dismiss us. Then he also played, and how splendidly but not only his own

compositions, also those of other masters, in order to teach the pupil

how they should be performed. One morning he played from memory fourteen

Preludes and Fugues of Bach's, and when I expressed my joyful admiration

at this unparalleled performance, he replied: "Cela ne s'oublie jamais,"

and smiling sadly he continued: "Depuis un an je n'ai pas etudie un

quart d'heure de sante, je n'ai pas de force, pas d'energie, j'attends

toujours un peu de sante pour reprendre tout cela, mais... j'attends

encore." We always spoke French together, in spite of his great fondness

for the German language and poetry. It is for this reason that I give

his sayings in the French language, as I heard them from him. In Paris

people had made me afraid, and told me how Chopin caused Clementi,

Hummel, Cramer, Moscheles, Beethoven, and Bach to be studied, but not

his own compositions. This was not the case. To be sure, I had to study

with him the works of the above-mentioned masters, but he also required

me to play to him the new and newest compositions of Hiller, Thalberg,

and Liszt, &c. And already in the first lesson he placed before me

his wondrously--beautiful Preludes and Studies. Indeed, he made me

acquainted with many a composition before it had appeared in print.

I heard him often preluding in a wonderfully-beautiful manner. On

one occasion when he was entirely absorbed in his playing, completely

detached from the world, his servant entered softly and laid a letter

on the music-desk. With a cry Chopin left off playing, his hair stood

on end--what I had hitherto regarded as impossible I now saw with my own

eyes. But this lasted only for a moment.

His playing was always noble and beautiful, his tones always sang,

whether in full forte, or in the softest piano. He took infinite pains

to teach the pupil this legato, cantabile way of playing. "Il [ou elle]

ne sait pas lier deux notes" was his severest censure. He also required

adherence to the strictest rhythm, hated all lingering and dragging,

misplaced rubatos, as well as exaggerated ritardandos. "Je vous prie de

vous asseoir," he said on such an occasion with gentle mockery. And it

is just in this respect that people make such terrible mistakes in the

execution of his works. In the use of the pedal he had likewise attained

the greatest mastery, was uncommonly strict regarding the misuse of it,

and said repeatedly to the pupil: "The correct employment of it remains

a study for life."

When I played with him the study in C major, the first of those he

dedicated to Liszt, he bade me practise it in the mornings very slowly.

"Cette etude vous fera du bien," he said. "Si vous l'etudiez comme

je l'entends, cela elargit la main, et cela vous donne des gammes

d'accords, comme les coups d'archet. Mais souvent malheureusement au

lieu d'apprendre tout cela, elle fait desapprendre." I am quite aware

that it is a generally-prevalent error, even in our day, that one can

only play this study well when one possesses a very large hand. But this

is not the case, only a supple hand is required.

Chopin related that in May, 1834, he had taken a trip to Aix-la-Chapelle

with Hiller and Mendelssohn. "Welcomed there in a very friendly manner,

people asked me when I was introduced: 'You are, I suppose, a brother

of the pianist?' I answered in the affirmative, for it amused me, and

described my brother the pianist. 'He is tall, strong, has black hair,

a black moustache, and a very large hand.'" To those who have seen the

slightly-built Chopin and his delicate hand, the joke must have been

exceedingly amusing.

On the 20th of April, 1840, Liszt, who had come back to Paris after

extended artistic tours, gave a matinee to an invited audience in

Erard's saloon. He played, as he did always, very brilliantly, and the

next morning I had to give a minute account to Chopin of what and how

he had played. He himself was too unwell to be present. When I spoke of

Liszt's artistic self-control and calmness in overcoming the greatest

technical difficulties, he exclaimed: "Ainsi il parait que mon avis est

juste. La derniere chose c'est la simplicite. Apres avoir epuise toutes

les difficultes, apres avoir joue une immense quantite de notes, et

de notes, c'est la simplicite qui sort avec tout son charme, comme

le dernier sceau de l'art. Quiconque veut arriver de suite a cela n'y

parviendra jamais, on ne peut commencer par la fin. II faut avoir etudie

beaucoup, meme immensement pour atteindre ce but, ce n'est pas une chose

facile. II m'etait impossible," he continued, "d'assister a sa matinee.

Avec ma sante ou ne peut rien faire. Je suis toujours embrouille avec

mes affaires, de maniere que je n'ai pas un moment libre. Que j'envie

les gens forts qui sont d'une sante robuste et qui n'ont rien a faire!

Je suis bien fache, je n'ai pas le temps d'etre malade."

When I studied his Trio he drew my attention to some passages which now

displeased him, he would now write them differently. At the end of the

Trio he said: "How vividly do the days when I composed it rise up in

my memory! It was at Posen, in the castle surrounded by vast forests of

Prince Radziwill. A small but very select company was gathered together

there. In the mornings there was hunting, in the evenings music. Ah!

and now," he added sadly, "the Prince, his wife, his son, all, all are

dead."

At a soiree (Dec. 20, 1840) he made me play the Sonata with the Funeral

March before a large assemblage. On the morning of the same day I had

once more to play over to him the Sonata, but was very nervous. "Why do

you play less well to-day?" he asked. I replied that I was afraid.

"Why? I consider you play it well," he rejoined very gravely, indeed,

severely. "But if you wish to play this evening as nobody played before

you, and nobody will play after you, well then!"...These words restored

my composure. The thought that I played to his satisfaction possessed

me also in the evening; I had the happiness of gaining Chopin's approval

and the applause of the audience. Then he played with me the Andante of

his F minor Concerto, which he accompanied magnificently on the second

piano. The entire assemblage assailed him with the request to perform

some more of his compositions, which he then did to the delight of all.

For eighteen months (he did not leave Paris this summer) I was allowed

to enjoy his instruction. How willingly would I have continued my

studies with him longer! But he himself was of opinion that I should

now return to my fatherland, pursue my studies unaided, and play much

in public. On parting he presented me with the two manuscripts of his

C sharp major and E major studies (dedicated to Liszt), and promised to

write during his stay in the country a concert-piece and dedicate it to

me.

In the end of the year 1844 I went again to Paris, and found Chopin

looking somewhat stronger. At that time his friends hoped for the

restoration of, or at least for a considerable improvement in, his

health.

The promised concert-piece, Op. 46, had to my inexpressible delight been

published. I played it to him, and he was satisfied with my playing

of it; rejoiced at my successes in Vienna, of which he had been told,

exerted himself with the amiability peculiar to him to make me still

better known to the musical world of Paris. Thus I learned to know

Auber, Halevy, Franchomme, Alkan, and others. But in February, 1845,1

was obliged to return to Vienna; I had pupils there who were waiting for

me. On parting he spoke of the possibility of coming there for a short

time, and I had quite made up my mind to return for another visit

to Paris in eighteen months, in order again to enjoy his valuable

instruction and advice. But this, to my deepest regret, was not to be.

I saw Madame Sand in the year 1841 and again in the year 1845 in a box

in a theatre, and had an opportunity of admiring her beauty. I never

spoke to her.

APPENDIX X.

PORTRAITS OF CHOPIN.

A biography is incomplete without some account of the portraits of the

hero or heroine who is the subject of it. M. Mathias regards as the

best portrait of Chopin a lithograph by Engelmann after a drawing by

Vigneron, of 1833, published by Maurice Schlesinger, of Paris. In a

letter to me he writes: "This portrait is marvellous for the absolutely

exact idea it gives of Chopin: the graceful fall of the shoulders, the

Polish look, the charm of the mouth." Continuing, he says: "Another good

likeness of Chopin, but of a later date, between the youthful period and

that of his decay, is Bovy's medallion, which gives a very exact idea

of the outlines of his hair and nose. Beyond these there exists nothing,

all is frightful; for instance, the portrait in Karasowski's book,

which has a stupid look." The portrait here alluded to is a lithographic

reproduction of a drawing by A. Duval. As a rule, the portraits of

Chopin most highly prized by his pupils and acquaintances are those by

A. Bovy and T. Kwiatkowski. Madame Dubois, who likes Bovy's medallion

best, and next to it the portraits by Kwiatkowski, does not care much

for Ary Scheffer's portrait of her master, in whose apartments she had

of course frequent opportunities to examine it. "It had the appearance

of a ghost [d'un ombre], and was more pale and worn than Chopin

himself." Of a bust by Clesinger Madame Dubois remarks that it does not

satisfy those who knew Chopin. M. Marmontel writes in a letter to me

that the portrait of Chopin by Delacroix in his possession is a powerful

sketch painted in oil, "reproducing the great artist in the last period

of his life, when he was about to succumb to his chest disease. My

dear friend Felix Barrias has been inspired, or, to be more exact, has

reproduced this beautiful and poetic face in his picture of the dying

Chopin asking the Countess Potocka to sing to him." Gutmann had in his

possession two portraits of his master, both pencil drawings; the one

by Franz Winterhalter, dated May 2, 1847, the other by Albert Graefle,

dated October 19, 1849. The former of these valuable portraits shows

Chopin in his decline, the latter on his death-bed. Both seem good

likenesses, Graefle's drawing having a strong resemblance with Bovy's

medallion.

[FOOTNOTE: The authorship alone is sufficient to make a drawing by

George Sand interesting. Madame Dubois says (in a letter written to

me) that the portrait, after a drawing of George Sand, contained in the

French edition of Chopin's posthumous works, published by Fontana, is

not at all a good likeness. Herr Herrmann Scholtz in Dresden has in his

possession a faithful copy of a drawing by George Sand made by a nephew

of the composer, a painter living at Warsaw. Madame Barcinska, the

sister of Chopin, in whose possession the original is, spoke of it as

a very good likeness. This picture, however, is not identical with that

mentioned by Madame Dubois.]

The portrait by A. Regulski in Szulc's book can only be regarded as a

libel on Chopin, and ought perhaps also to be regarded as a libel on

the artist. Various portraits in circulation are curiosities rather than

helps to a realisation of the outward appearance of Chopin. Schlesinger,

of Berlin, published a lithograph after a drawing by Maurir; and

Schuberth, of Hamburg, an engraving on steel, and Hofmeister, of

Leipzig, a lithograph, after I don't know what original. Several other

portraits need not be mentioned, as they are not from life, but more or

less fancy portraits based on one or more of the authentic delineations.

Bovy's medallion graces Breitkopf and Hartel's Gesammtausgabe and

Thematic Catalogue of the master's published works. The portrait by Ary

Scheffer may be seen lithographically reproduced by Waldow in the German

edition of Chopin's posthumous works, published by Fontana. A wood-cut

after the drawing by Graefle appeared in 1879 in the German journal Die

Gartenlaube. Prefixed to the first volume of the present biography the

reader will find one of the portraits by Kwiatkowski, an etching after a

charming pencil drawing in my possession, the reproduction of which

the artist has kindly permitted. M. Kwiatkowski has portrayed Chopin

frequently, and in many ways and under various circumstances, alive

and dead. Messrs. Novello, Ewer & Co. have in their possession a clever

water-colour drawing by Kwiatkowski of Chopin on his death-bed. A more

elaborate picture by the same artist represents Chopin on his death-bed

surrounded by his sister, the Princess Marcellince Czartoryska,

Grzymala, the Abbe Jelowicki, and the portrayer. On page 321 of this

volume will be found M. Charles Gavard's opinion of two portrayals of

Chopin, respectively by Clesinger and Kwiatkowski. In conclusion, I

recall to the reader's attention what has been said of the master's

appearance and its pictorial and literary reproductions on pp. 65 and

246 of Vol. I. and pp. 100, 135, and 329 of Vol. II.

REMARKS PRELIMINARY TO THE LIST OF CHOPIN'S WORKS.

The original editions were three in number: the German, the French, and

the English (see p. 272). To avoid overcrowding, only the names of the

original German and French publishers will be given in the following

list, with two exceptions, however,--Op. 1 and 5, which were published

in Poland (by Brzezina & Co., of Warsaw) long before they made their

appearance elsewhere. [FOOTNOTE: What is here said, however, does not

apply to Section IV.] Some notes on the publication of the works in

England are included in these preliminary remarks.

In the list the publishers will be always placed in the same order--the

German first, and the French second (in the two exceptional cases, Op. 1

and 5, they will be second and third). The dates with an asterisk and

in parentheses (*) are those at which a copy of the respective works

was deposited at the Paris Bibliotheque du Conservatoire de Musique, the

dates without an asterisk in parentheses are derived from advertisements

in French musical journals; the square brackets [ ] enclose conjectural

and approximate dates and additional information; and lastly, the dates

without parentheses and without brackets were obtained by me direct from

the successors of the original German publishers, and consequently are

more exact and trustworthy than the others. In a few cases where the

copyright changed hands during the composer's lifetime, and where

unacquaintance with this change might give rise to doubts and

difficulties, I have indicated the fact.

The publishing firms mentioned in the list are the following:--Maurice

Schlesinger, Brandus &Cie. (the successors of M. Schlesinger), Eugene

Troupenas & Cie., Joseph Meissonnier, Joseph Meissonnier fils H.

Lemoine, Ad. Catelin & Cie. (Editeurs des Compositeurs reunis, Rue

Grange Bateliere, No. 26), Pacini (Antonio Francesco Gaetano), Prilipp &

Cie. (Aquereurs d'une partie du Fond d'lgn. Pleyel & Cie.), S. Richault

(i.e., Charles Simon Richault, to whom succeeded his son Guillaume

Simon, who in his turn was succeeded by his son Leon.--Present

style: Richault et Cie., Successeurs), and Schonenberger, all of

Pans;-Breitkopf & Hartel, Probst-Kistner (since 1836 Friedrich Kistner),

Friedrich Hofmeister, and C. F. Peters, of Leipzig;--Ad. M. Schlesinger,

Stern & Co.( from 1852 J. Friedlander; later on annexed to Peters,

of Leipzig), and Bote and Bock, of Berlin;--Tobias Haslinger, Carl

Haslinger quondam Tobias, and Pietro Mechetti (whose widow was succeeded

by C. A. Spina), of Vienna;--Schuberth & Co., of Hamburg (now Julius

Schuberth, of Leipzig);--B. Schott's Sohne, of Mainz;--Andr. Brzezina

& Co. and Gebethner & Wolff, of Warsaw;--J. Wildt and W. Chaberski, of

Cracow;--and J. Leitgeber, of Posen.

From 1836 onward the course of the publication of Chopin's works in

England can be followed in the advertisement columns of the Musical

World. Almost all the master's works were published in England by

Wessel. On March 8, 1838, Messrs. Wessel advertised Op. 1-32 with the

exception of Op. 4, 11, and 29. This last figure has, no doubt, to be

read as 28, as the Preludes could hardly be in print at that time, and

the Impromptu, Op. 29, was advertised on October 20, 1837, as OP. 28.

With regard to Op. 12 it has to be noted that it represents not the

Variations brillantes sur le Rondo favori "Je vends des Scapulaires,"

but the Grand Duo concertant for piano and violoncello, everywhere else

published without opus number. The Studies, Op. 10, were offered to

the public "revised with additional fingering by his pupil I. [sic]

Fontana." On November 18, 1841, Wessel and Stapleton (the latter having

come in as a partner in 1839) advertised Op. 33-43, and subsequently

Op. 44-48. On February 22, 1844, they announced that they had "the sole

copyright of the COMPLETE and entire works" of Chopin. On May 15, 1845,

were advertised Op. 57 and 58; on January 17, 1846, Op. 59; on September

26, 1846, Op. 60, 61, and 62. The partnership with Stapleton having

in 1845 been dissolved, the style of the firm was now Wessel &

Co. Thenceforth other English publishers came forward with Chopin

compositions. On June 3, 1848, Cramer, Beale & Co. advertised Chopin's

"New Valses and Mazurkas for the pianoforte"; and on the title-pages

of the French edition of Op. 63, 64, and 65 I found the words: "London,

Jullien et Cie." But also before this time Wessel seems to have had

competitors; for on the title-page of the French edition of Op. 22 may

be read: "London, Mori et Lavenu," and on September 20, 1838, Robert

Cocks advertised "Five Mazurkas and Three Nocturnes." On September 23,

1848, however, Wessel & Co. call themselves sole proprietors of Chopin's

works; and on November 24, 1849, they call themselves Publishers of the

Complete Works of Chopin. Information received from Mr. Ashdown, the

present proprietor of the business, one of the two successors (Mr. Parry

retired in 1882) of Christian Rudolph Wessel, who retired in 1860 and

died in 1885, throws some further light on the publication of Chopin's

works in England. We have already seen in a former part of this book (p.

117) that Wessel discontinued to deal with Chopin after Op. 62. "Cramer,

Beale & Co.," writes Mr. Ashdown, "published the Mazurkas, Op. 63, and

two only of the Waltzes, Op. 64; these, being non-copyright in England,

Mr. Wessel added to his edition, together with the third waltz of Op.

64. The name of Jullien on the French edition was probably put on in

consequence of negotiations for the sale of English copyright having

been entered upon, but without result." With the exception of Op. 12 and

65, Wessel published all the works with opus numbers of Chopin that

were printed during the composer's lifetime. Cramer, Addison & Beale

published the Variations, Op. 12; Chappell, the Trois Nouvelles Etudes;

R. Cocks, the posthumous Sonata, Op. 4, and the Variations stir un

air allemand without opus number; and Stanley Lucas, Weber & Co., the

Seventeen Polish Songs, Op. 74. The present editions issued by the

successor of Wessel are either printed from the original plates or

re-engraved (which is the case in about half of the number) from the old

Wessel copies, with here and there a correction.

Simultaneous publication was aimed at, as we see from Chopin's letters,

but the dates of the list show that it was rarely attained. The

appearance of the works in France seems to have in most cases preceded

that in Germany; in the case of the Tarantelle, Op. 43, I found the

English edition first advertised (October 28, 1841). Generally there was

approximation if not simultaneity.

I.--WORKS PUBLISHED WITH OPUS NUMBERS DURING THE COMPOSER'S LIFETIME.

DATES ORIGINAL

OF GERMAN & FRENCH

PUBLICATION TITLES WITH REFERENCES PUBLISHERS.

1825. OP.1. Premier Rondeau [C minor] Brzezina.

pour le piano. Dedie a Mme. de A. M. Schlesinger.

Linde.--Vol. I, pp. 52, 53-54, M. Schlesinger

55, 112;--Vol. II, p.87

[1830, OP.2. La ci darem la mano [B flat T. Haslinger

about March] major] varie pour le piano, avec M. Schlesinger

(September accompagnement d'orchestre. Dedie

21, 1834.) a Mr. Woyciechowski.--Vol. I., pp.

53, 62, 95, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101,

105, 112, 116-118, 120, 163, 241;

Vol. II., p.87, 212

[1833 in OP.3. Introduction et Polonaise Mechetti

print.] brillante [C major], pour piano S. Richault

June, 1835) et violincelle Dediee d Mr. Joseph

Merk.--Vol.I., pp. 129, 200-201;

--Vol. II., p. 87.

Op.4. As this work was published

posthumously, it had to be placed

in Section III. Nevertheless, it

differs from the works with which

it is classed in one important

respect--it was intended for

publication by the composer himself,

who sent it to Vienna in 1828.

[1827?] Op.5. Rondeau a la Mazur [F major] Brzezina.

May, 1836 pour le piano. Dediee a Mlle. la Hofmeister.

Comtesse Alexandrine de Moriolles. Schonenberger.

--Vol. I., pp. 54-55, 56, 112, 168;

--Vol. II., p.87

Dec., 1832 Op.6. Quatre Mazurkas [F sharp minor Probst-Kistner.

(Nov. 23, C Sharp minor, E major, and E flat M. Schlesinger.

1834.) minor] pour le piano. Dediees a

Mlle. la Comtesse Pauline Plater.

--Vol. I., p. 268;--Vol. II, pp.231-

232.234-239.

Dec.1832 Op.7. Cinq Mazurkas [B flat major, Probst-Kistner

(Nov. 23, A minor, F minor, A flat major, and M. Schlesinger.

1834.) C major] pour le piano. Dediees a

Mr. Johns.--Vol. I., pp.250,268,

276 (No. 1);--Vol. II, pp. 231-232

234-239.

March, 1833.) Op.8. Premier Trio [G minor] pour Probst-Kistner

(Nov. 23, piano, violon, et violoncelle. M. Schlesinger

1834.) Dedie a Mr. le Prince Antonine

Radziwill--Vol. I., pp. 62, 88,

112, 113-115, 268;--Vol. II., p.

212,342

Jan. 1833. Op.9. Trois Nocturnes (B flat Probst-Kistner

(Nov. 23, minor, E flamajor, and B major] M. Schlesinger

1834.) pour le piano Dedies a Mme.

Camille Pleyel--Vol.l.,268;

--Vol. II., pp.87. 261-63

August, 1833. Op.10.Douze Grandes Etudes [C major Probst-Kistner

(July 6,1833.) A minor, E major, C sharp minor M. Schlesinger

G flat major, E flat minor, C [who sold them

major, F major, F minor, A flat afterwards to

major, E flat major, and C minor] Lemoine].

pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Fr.

Liszt.--Vol. I., p.201,268; Vol.

II., p. 55 (No. 5), 251-254.

Sept., 1833 Op.11.Grand Concerto [E minor] pour Probst-Kistner

(July 6, le piano avec orchestre. Dedie a M. Schlesinger

1833.) Mr. Fr. Kalkbrenner.--Vol. I., pp

127, 146, 147, 150, 151, 152, 156,

189, 195, 203-208, 210-212, 233, 240,

241, 268, 281; Vol. II., pp. 16, 211

Nov., 1833 Op.12.Variations brillantes [B flat Breitkopf & Hartel

(Jan.26, major] pour le piano sur le Rondeau M. Schlesinger

1834) favori de Ludovic de Herold: "Je

vends des Scapulaires." Dediees a

Mlle. Emma Horsford.--Vol.I.,p.268;

Vol. II., p.221.

May, 1834 Op.13.Grande Fantaisie [A major] sur Probst-Kistner

(April, des airs polonais, pour le piano M. Schlesinger

1834) avec orchestre. Dediee a Mr. J.

P. Pixis--Vol.I., pp. 112,116.

118-120,132,152,197,268; Vol.

II., p.212.

July, 1834. Op.14 Krakowiak, Grand Rondeau de Probst-Kistner

(June, Concert [F major] pour le piano M. Schlesinger

1834.) avec orchestre. Deidie a Mme. la

Princesse Adam Czartoryska.

Vol.I.,pp.88,96,97,98,99,101,

102.112,116,118-120,134,268;

Vol. II., 233.

Jan., 1834 OP. 15. Trois Nocturnes [F major, F Breitkopf &

[Copies sharp major, and G minor] pour le Hartel.

sent to piano. Dedies a Mr. Ferd. Hiller.--

M. Schlesinger.

composer Vol. II., pp. 87, 261, 263

already in

Dec.,

1833].

(Jan.

12,1834.)

March, OP. 16. Rondeau [E flat major] pour Breitkopf &

1834. le piano. Dedie a Mlle. Caroline Hartel.

Hartmann.--Vol. I., p. 269; Vol. M. Schlesinger.

II., p. 221.

May, 1834. OP. 17. Quatre Mazurkas [B flat Breitkopf &

major, E minor, A flat major, and A Hartel.

minor] pour le piano, Dediees a Mme. M. Schlesinger.

Lina Freppa.--Vol. I., p. 268; Vol.

II., 231-232, 234-239.

July, 1834. OP. 18. Grande Valse [E fiat major] Breitkopf &

(June, pour le piano. Dediee a Mlle. Laura Hartel.

1834.*) Harsford [thus in all the editions, M. Schlesinger

but should probably be Horsford. See [who sold it

Op. 12.]--Vol. I., pp. 268, 273; afterwards to

Vol. II., 249. Lemoine].

March, OP. 20. Premier Scherzo [B minor] Breitkopf &

1835. pour le piano. Dedie a Mr. Hartel.

(Feb., T.Albrecht.--Vol. I., p. 294; Vol. M. Schlesinger.

1835.*) II., pp. 27,87, 256-257.

April, OP. 21. Second Concerto [F minor] Breitkopf and

1836. pour le piano avec orchestre. Dedie Hartel.

(Aug., a Mme. la Comtesse Delphine Potocka. M. Schlesinger.

1836.) --Vol. I., pp. 128, 131-132, 134,

156, 163, 200, 203-210, 212, 241,

294; II., p. 211.

Aug., 1836. OP. 22. Grande Polonaise brillante Breitkopf &

(July, [E flat major], precedee d'un Hartel.

1836.*) Andante spianato, pour le piano avec M. Schlesinger.

orchestre. Dediee a Mme. la Baronne

d'Est.--Vol. I., pp. 201-202, 295;

Vol. II., pp. 239-243, 244.

June, 1836. OP. 23. Ballade [G minor] pour le Breitkopf &

(July, piano. Dediee a Mr. le Baron de Hartel.

1836.*) Stockhausen.--Vol. I., pp. 294, 295 M. Schlesinger.

Vol. II., pp. 87, 268-9.

Nov., 1835. Op. 24 Quatre Mazurkas [G minor, C Breitkopf &

(Jan., major, A flat major, and B flat Hartel.

1836.) minor]. Dediees a Mr. le Comte de M. Schlesinger.

Perthuis.-Vol. I., pp. 294,

295; Vol. II., pp. 218 (No. 2), 231-

2, 234 9.

Oct., 1837. Op. 25 Douze Etudes [A flat major, F Breitkopf &

(Oct.22, minor, F major, A minor, E minor, G Hartel.

1837.) sharp minor, C sharp minor, D flat M. Schlesinger

major G flat major, B minor, A minor, [who sold the

& C minor] pour le piano. Dediees & copyright

Mme. la Comtesse d'Agoult.--Vol. I., afterwards to

pp. 276, 295, 310; Vol. II., pp. 15, Lemoine].

251-4.

July, 1836. Op. 26. Deux Polonaises [C sharp Breitkopf &

(July, minor and E flat minor] pour le Hartel.

1836.*) piano. Dediees a Mr. J. Dessauer.--

M. Schlesinger.

Vol. I., p. 295; Vol. II., pp. 239-

244; 245-6.

May, 1836. Op. 27. Deux Nocturnes [C sharp Breitkopf &

(July, minor and D flat major] pour le Hartel.

1836.*) piano. Dediees a Mme. la Comtesse M. Schlesinger.

d'Appony.-Vol. I., pp. 294, 295;

Vol. II., pp. 87, 261, 263-4.

Sept., Op. 28. Vingt-quatre Preludes pour Breitkopf &

1839. le piano. Dediees a son ami Pleyel Hartel.

(Sept., [in the French and in the English Ad. Catelin et

1839.*) edition; a Mr. J. C. Kessler in the Cie.

German edition. The French edition

appeared in two books and without

opus number].--Vol. II., pp. 20, 24,

27, 28, 29-30, 30-31, 42-45, 50, 51,

71, 72, 76, 77,

254-6.

Jan., 1838. Op. 29. Impromptu [A flat major] Breitkopf &

(Dec., pour le piano. Dedie a Mile, la Hartel.

1837.*) Comtesse de Lobau.--Vol. II., pp. M. Schlesinger.

15, 259.

Jan., 1838. Op. 30. Quatre Mazurkas [C minor, B Breitkopf &

(Dec., minor, D flat major, and C sharp Hartel.

1837.*) minor] pour le piano. Dediees a Mme. M. Schlesinger.

la Princesse de Wurtemberg, nee

Princesse Czartoryska.--Vol. II.,

pp. 15, 231-2, 234-9.

Feb., 1838. Op. 31. Deuxieme Scherzo [B flat Breitkopf &

(Dec., minor] pour le piano. Dedie a Mile, Hartel.

1837.*) la Comtesse Adele de Fursienslein. M. Schlesinger.

--Vol. II., pp. 15, 87, 256, 257.

(Dec., OP. 32. Deux Nocturnes [B major and A. M.

1837.*) A flat major] pour le Piano. Dedies Schlesinger.

a Mme. la Baronne de Billing.--Vol. M. Schlesinger.

II., pp. 15, 87, 264.

Nov., 1838. OP. 33. Quatre Mazurkas [G sharp Breitkopf &

(Nov., minor, D major, C major, and B Hartel.

1838.) minor] pour le piano. Dediees a M. Schlesinger.

Mlle. la Comtesse Mostowska.--Vol.

II., pp. 15, 231-2, 234-9.

Dec., 1838. OP. 34. Trois Valses brillantes [A Breitkopf &

(Jan., flat major, A minor, and F major] Hartel.

1839.*) pour le piano. Dediees [No. 1] a M. Schlesinger.

Mlle. deThun-Hohenstein; [No. 2] a

Mme. G. d'Ivri; [No. 3] d Mile. A.

d'Eichthal.--Vol. I., p. 200 (No.

I); Vol. II., pp. 15, 30; 248, 249.

May, 1840. OP. 35. Sonate [B flat minor] pour Breitkopf &

(May, le piano.--Vol. II., pp. 45, 62, 72, Hartel.

1840.*) 77, 94, 225-8. Troupenas et

Cie.

May, 1840. OP. 36. Deuxieme Impromptu [F sharp Breitkopf &

(May, minor] pour le piano.--Vol. II., pp. Hartel.

1840.*) 259-60. Troupenas et

Cie.

May, 1840. OP. 37. Deux Nocturnes [G minor and Breitkopf &

(June, G major] pour le piano.--Vol. II., Hartel.

1840.*) p. 45, 62, 87, 261, 264. Troupenas et

Cie.

Sept., OP. 38. Deuxieme Ballade [F major] Breitkopf &

1840. pour le piano. Dediee a Mr. R. Hartel.

(Sept., Schumann.--Vol. II., pp. 45, 50, 51, Troupenas et

1840.*) 52,54,77,268,269. Cie.

Oct., 1840. Op. 39. Troisieme Scherzo [C sharp Breitkopf &

(Dec., minor] pour le piano. Dedie a Mr. A. Hartel.

1840.*) Gutmann.--Vol. II., pp. 45, 53, 72, Troupenas et

77, 256, 258. Cie.

Nov., 1840. Op. 40. Deux Polonaises [A major and Breitkopf &

(Dec., C minor] pour le piano. Dediees a Hartel.

1840.*) Mr. J. Fontana.--Vol. II., pp. 45, Troupenas et

50, 51, 52, 54, 77, 87, 94, 213 (No. Cie.

1), 239-244, 246, 247.

Dec., 1840. Op. 41. Quatre Mazurkas [C sharp Breitkopf &

(Dec., minor, E minor, B major, and A flat Hartel.

1840.*) major] pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Troupenas et

E. Witwicki.--Vol. II., pp. 46 (No. Cie.

1), 62, 77, 231-2, 234-9.

July, 1840. Op. 42. Valse [A flat major pour le Breitkopf &

piano,--Vol. II., pp. 77, 86, 248, Hartel.

249. Pacini.

(1841. An Op. 43. Tarantella [A flat major] Schuberth & Co.

nounced in pour le piano.--Vol. II., pp. 77, Troupenas et Cie.

Monatsbe-

82-86, 222.

richte on Jan.

1,1842. Paid

for by the

publisher on

July 7, 1841.]

(Oct., 1841.*)

(Nov. 28, Op.44. Polonaise [F sharp minor] Merchetti.

1841.) pour le piano. Dediee a Mme. la M. Schlesinger.

Princesse Charles de Beauvau.--Vol.

II., pp. 77,80, 81,86,239-244,246.

(Nov. 28, Op.45. Prelude [C sharp minor] pour Merchetti.

1841.) piano. Dediee a Mlle. la Prin-

M. Schlesinger.

cesse Elisabeth Czernicheff.--Vol.

II., pp. 77, 80, 81, 256

Jan., 1842. Op.46. Allegro de Concert [A major] Breitkopf & Hartel.

(Nov. 28, pour le piano. Dedie a Mlle. F. M. Schlesinger.

1841) Muller--Vol. I., p. 202; Vol.II.,

pp.77, 86, 87, 177, 223-5.

Jan. 1842 Op.47. Troisieme Ballade [A flat Breitkopf & Hartel.

(Nov. 28, major] pour le piano. Dediee a M. Schlesinger.

1841) Mlle. P. de Noailles.--Vol.II.,

pp.77,87, 92, 268, 269-70.

Jan., 1842 Op.48. Deux Nocturnes [C minor Breitkopf & Hartel.

(Nov. 28, and F sharp minor] pour le piano. M. Schlesinger.

1841) Dediees a Mlle. L. Duperre--Vol.II.,

pp. 77, 87, 88, 262, 265

Jan., 1842 Op.49. Fantaisie [F minor] pour Breitkopf & Hartel.

(Nov. 28, le piano Dediee a Mme. la Princesse M. Schlesinger.

1841) C. de Souzzo.--Vol. II., pp. 77,87,

230-1.

[Sept.,1842. Op.50. Trois Mazurkas [G major, Mechetti.

Announced A flat major, and C charp minor] M. Schlesinger.

in Monats-

pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Leon

berichte.] Szmitkowski--Vol.II., p.77,231-2,

(Nov.28,1841 234-9.

[not again

advertised

till June 5,

1842,

although the

preceding

numbers

were.])

Feb.,1843. Op. 51. Allegro Vivace. Troisieme Hofmeister.

(July 9, Impromptu [G flat major] pour le M. Schlesinger.

1843.) piano. Dedie a Mme. la Comtesse

Esterhazy.--Vol.II.,pp.121,260.

Feb., 1843. Op. 52. Quatrieme Ballade [F minor] Breitkopf &

(Dec. 24, pour le piano. Dediee a Mme. la Hartel.

1843.) Baronne C. de Rothschild.--Vol. II., M. Schlesinger.

pp. 77, 121, 268, 270.

Dec., 1843. OP. 53. Huiticmc Polonaise [A flat Breitkopf &

(Dec. 24, major] pour le piano. Dediee a Mr. Hartel.

1843.) A. Leo.--Vol. II., pp. 77, 94, 97, M. Schlesinger.

121, 213, 239-244, 247.

Dec., 1843. Op. 54. Scherzo No. 4 [E major] pour Breitkopf &

(Dec. 24, le piano. Dedie a Mlle. J. de Hartel.

1843.) Caraman.--Vol. II-, pp. 121, 256, M. Schlesinger.

258-9.

Aug. 1844. Op. 55. Deux Nocturnes [F minor and Breitkopf &

(Sept. 22, E flat major] pour le piano. Dedies Hartel.

1844.) a Mlle. J. W. Stirling.--Vol. II., M. Schlesinger.

p. 118, 121,262, 265-6.

Aug., 1844. Op. 56. Trois Mazurkas [B major, C Breitkopf &

(Sept. 22, major, and C minor] pour le piano. Hartel.

1844.) Dediees a Mlle. C. Maberly.--Vol. M. Schlesinger.

II., pp. 118, 121-2, 231-2, 234-9.

May, 1845. Op. 57. Berceuse [D flat major] pour Breitkopf &

(June, le piano. Dediee & Mlle. Elise Hartel.

1845.*) Gavard.--Vol. I., p. 119; Vol. II., J. Meissonnier.

pp. 118, 122,267-8.

June, 1845. Op.58. Sonate [B minor] pour le Breitkopf & Hartel

(June, piano. Dediee a Mme.la Comtesse J. Meissonnier.

1845*) E. de Perthuis.--Vol. II., pp.

118, 122, 228-9.

[Jan., 1846, Op. 59. Trois Mazurkas [A minor, Stern et Cie.

announced A flat major, and F sharp minor] Brandus et Cie.

in Monats-

pour le piano.--Vol.II.,pp. 122,

berichte.] 231-2, 234-9.

(April,

1846.*)

Dec., 1846 Op.60 Barcarolle [F sharp major] Breitkopf & Hartel

(Sept., pour le piano. Dediee a Mme. la Brandus et Cie.

1846) Baronne de Stockhausen-Vol.II,

pp.77, 122 266-7.

Dec., 1846. Op.61 Polonaise-Fantaisie [A Breitkopf & Hartel

(Sept., flat major] pour le piano. Brandus et Cie.

1846.*) Dediee a Mme. A.Veyret.--

Vol.II., pp. 122, 239-244, 248

Dec., 1846. Op. 62. Deux Nocturnes [B major Breitkopf & Hartel.

(Sept., and E major] pour le piano. Dedies Brandus et Cie.

1846.*) a Mlle. R. de Konneritz.--Vol. II.,

pp. 122, 262, 266.

Sept., OP. 63. Trois Mazurkas [B major, F Breitkopf &

1847. minor, and C sharp minor] pour le Hartel.

(Oct. 17, piano. Dediees a. Mme. la Comtesse Brandus et Cie.

1847) L. Czosnowska.--Vol. II., pp. 122,

205, 231-2, 234-9.

Sept., OP. 64. Trois Valses [D flat major, Breitkopf &

1847. C sharp minor, and A flat major] Hartel.

(Oct. 17, pour le piano. Dediees [No 1] a Mme. Brandus et Cie.

1847) la Comtesse Potocka; [No. 2] a Mme.

la Baronne de Rothschild;

[No. 3] a Mme. la Baronne Bronicka.--

Vol. II., pp. 95, 122, 142 (No. 1),

205, 248, 250-1, 387.

Sept., OP. 65. Sonate [G minor] pour piano Breitkopf &

1847. et violoncelle. Dediee a Mr. A. Hartel.

(Oct. 17, Franchomme.--Vol. II., pp. 122, 205, Brandus et Cie.

1847) 206, 207, 211, 229.

II.--WORKS PUBLISHED WITHOUT OPUS NUMBERS DURING THE COMPOSER'S

LIFETIME.

[1833, in Grand Duo concertant [E major] pour M. Schlesinger.

print.] piano et violoncelle sur des themes A. M.

(July 6, de Robert le Diable, par F. Chopin Schlesinger.

1833.) et A. Franchomme.--Vol. II., p. 230.

Aug. or Trois Nouvelles Etudes [F. minor, A M. Schlesinger.

Sept., 1840 flat major, and D flat major]. Etudes A. M.

[this is de Schlesinger. Perfection de la

the date of Methode des Moscheles et Fetis.--Vol.

the II., p. 252.

appearance

of the

Methode.]

(July 25, Variation VI. [Largo, E major, C] T. Haslinger.

1841.) from the Hexameron: Morceau de Troupenas et Cie.

Concert. Grandes Variations de

bravoure sur la Marche des

"Puritains" de Bellini, composees

pour le Concert de Mme. la Princesse

Belgiojoso au benefice des pauvres,

par MM. Liszt, Thalberg, Pixis, H.

Herz, Czerny, and Chopin.--Vol. II.,

pp. 14, 15.

[Feb., 1842, Mazurka [A minor] pour piano, No.2 B. Schott's Sohne.

announced of "Notre Temps."--Vol.II.,p.237

in Monats-berichte.

III.--WORKS PUBLISHED WITH OPUS NUMBERS AFTER THE COMPOSER'S DEATH.

[May, OP. 4. Sonate [C minor] pour le C. Haslinger.

1851.] piano. Dediee a Mr. Joseph Elsner. S. Richault.

(May, [This work was already in the hands

1851.*) of the German publisher, T. Haslinger,

in 1828.]--Vol. I., pp. 62,112,118;

Vol. II., p. 63.

1855. OP. 66-74 are the posthumous works A. M.

with opus numbers given to the world Schlesinger.

by Julius Fontana (publies sur fils. J. Meissonnier

manuscrits originaux avec

autorisation de sa famille).--Vol.

II., 270-1.

OP. 66. Fantaisie-Impromptu [C

sharp minor]. Composed about 1834.--

Vol. II.. p. 261, 271.

OP. 67. Quatre Mazurkas [G major

(1835), G minor (1849), C major (1835),

and A minor (1846).]--Vol. II.,

p. 271.

OP. 68. Quatre Mazurkas [C major

(1830), A minor (1827), F major (1830),

and F minor (1849).]--Vol. I., pp.

112, 122 (No. 2).

OP. 69. Deux Valses [F minor

(1836), and B minor (1829).]--

Vol. I., pp. 112, 122 (No. 2).

OP. 70. Trois Valses [G flat major

(1835), F minor (1843), and D flat major

(1830).]--Vol. I., pp. 128, 200

(No. 3).

Op. 71. Trois Polonaises [D minor

(1827), B flat major (1828), and F minor

(1829).]--Vol. I., pp. 62 (Nos. 1

and 2), 112, 121 (Nos. 1, 2, and 3),

129 (No. 3).

OP. 72. Nocturne [E minor (1827)];

Marche funebre [C minor (1829)];

et Trois Ecossaises [D major, G

major, and D flat major (1830)].--

Vol. I., pp. 62, 112, 121 (No. 1);

112, 123 (No. 2); 202 (No. 3).

OP. 73. Rondeau [C major] pour deux

pianos (1828).--Vol. I., pp. 62,

112, 116.

OP. 74. Seventeen Polish Songs by

Witwicki, Mickiewicz, Zaleski, &c.,

for voice with pianoforte

accompaniment. The German translation

by Ferd. Gumbert. [The

English translation of Stanley

Lucas, Weber & Co.'s English

edition is by the Rev. J.

Troutbeck.]--Vol. II., p. 271-272.

IV.--WORKS PUBLISHED WITHOUT OPUS NUMBERS AFTER THE COMPOSER'S DEATH.

[May, Variations [E major] pour le piano C. Haslinger.

1851.] stir un air allemand. (1824?) S. Richault.

[although not published till 1851,

this composition was already in 1830

in T. Haslinger's hands).--Vol. I.:

pp. 53, 55, 56.

Mazurka [G major]. (1825.)--Vol. I., J. Leitgeber.

p. 52; II., 236. Gebethner &

Wolff.

Mazurka [B flat major (1825)].--Vol.

I., p. 52; II., 236.

Mazurka [D major (1829-30)].--Vol.

I., PP--202-203; II., 236.

Mazurka [D major (1832.--A

remodelling of the preceding

Mazurka)].--Vol. I., pp.

202-203; II., 236.

Mazurka [C major (1833)].--Vol. II., Gebethner &

p. 236. Wolff.

Mazurka [A minor. Dediee a son ami Bote & Bock.

Emile Gail'ard.--Vol. II, p. 236.

1858. Valse [E minor].--Vol. II., p. 251. B. Schott's

Sohne.

Gebethner &

Wolff.

1864. Polonaise [G sharp minor]. Dediee B. Schott's

a Mme. Dupont.--Vol. I., p. 52 (see Sohne.

also Corrections and Additions, Vol. Gebethner &

I., p. VIII. Wolff.

1872. Polonaise [G flat major]. Nothing B. Schott's

but the composer's autograph could Sohne.

convince one of the genuineness of

this piece. There are here and there

passages which have the Chopin ring,

indeed, seem to be almost bodily

taken from some other of his works,

but there is also a great deal which

it is impossible to imagine to have

come at any time from his pen--the

very opening bars may be instanced.

Polonaise [B flat minor (1826)].--

Gebethner &

Vol. I., pp. 52-53. Wolff.

Valse [E major (1829)].--

Vol. I., Gebethner &

pp. 112, 122. Wolff.

W. Chaberski.

Souvenir de Paganini [A major].

This piece, which I do not know, is

mentioned in the list of the

master's works given by Karasowski

in the Polish edition of his life of

Chopin. It was published in the

supplement of the Warsaw Echo

Muzyczne, where also the two

preceding pieces first appeared.

About a Mazurka in F sharp major,

published under Chopin's name by J.

P. Gotthard, of Vienna, see Vol.

II., p. 237; and about Deux Valses

melancoliques (F minor and B minor)

ecrites sur l'Album de Mme. la

Comtesse P. 1844, see Vol. II., p.

251.

La Reine des Songes, which appeared

in the Paris Journal de Musique, No.

8, 1876, is No. 1 of the Seventeen

Polish Songs (transposed to B flat

major) with French words by George

Sand, beginning:

"Quand la lune se leve

Dans un pale rayon

Elle vient comme un reve,

Comme une vision."

Besides this song, the letter-press,

taken from George Sand's Histoire de

ma Vie, is accompanied by two

instrumental pieces, extracts from

the last movement of the E minor

Concerto and the Bolero, the latter

being called Chanson de Zingara.

END OF VOLUME II.