Mans. Now, however, you are in Touraine, whose sky will have
been more favourable to you. I am less well rather than
better. MM. Cruveille, Louis, and Blache have had a
consultation, and have come to the conclusion that I ought not
to travel, but only to take lodgings in the south and remain
at Paris. After much seeking, very dear apartments, combining
all the desired conditions, have been found in the Place
Vendome, No. 12. Albrecht has now his offices there. Meara
[FOOTNOTE: This is a very common French equivalent for
O'Meara.] has been of great help to me in the search for the
apartments. In short, I shall see you all next winter--well
housed; my sister remains with me, unless she is urgently
required in her own country. I love you, and that is all I can
tell you, for I am overcome with sleep and weakness. My sister
rejoices at the idea of seeing Madame Franchomme again, and I
also do so most sincerely. This shall be as God wills. Kindest
regards to M. and Madame Forest. How much I should like to be
some days with you! Is Madame de Lauvergeat also at the sea-
side? Do not forget to remember me to her, as well as to M. de
Lauvergeat. Embrace your little ones. Write me a line. Yours
ever. My sister embraces Madame Franchomme.
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. 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 3Oth 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 3Oth 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. I7I.)
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. I77.)
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.