It was not until Frederick Chopin graduated from the high school that it
was decided that he should devote all of his time to music. This
decision gave him great joy. He immediately set out with a friend for
Berlin. Of all the music that Chopin heard there, he liked none so well
as Handel's. He met Mendelssohn and many famous musicians during his
visit.
At the end of a fortnight he returned to Warsaw, making the trip in a
stagecoach. At an inn in a small town the coach stopped to change
horses. The travelers were told that they must wait an hour. Chopin and
his friend took a stroll about the town. Finding it a dull place they
returned to the inn. The hour had gone by, but still no horses were
harnessed to the coach. No guard, bugle in hand, sat upon the high seat,
ready for the journey.
Entering the inn, Chopin was delighted to find an old piano in one of
the rooms. It did not seem to be a fine instrument, but it proved to be
better than it looked. When Chopin opened it and played a few notes, he
found it to be in good tune. Now that he had found a good piano, he
cared little how long the delay might be. He played on and on, without a
thought of his journey.
One of the travelers, hearing the music, came and stood in the doorway.
One by one the other travelers gathered about the piano. The sweet
sounds charmed the listeners into silence. One old German even let his
beloved pipe go out. The keeper of the inn and his two pretty daughters
joined the group. Chopin, forgetful of time and place, continued to
play, and his audience, silent and full of wonder, continued to listen.
They were suddenly startled by a deep voice, "Gentlemen, the horses are
ready." The innkeeper roared at the intruder, and the passengers cast
angry glances at him. Chopin started from his seat, but was surrounded
by his new friends. They begged him to continue his playing. "But we
have been here some time," said Chopin, "we must depart now."
"Stay and play, noble young artist," cried the innkeeper. "I will
furnish you the fastest horses, if you will stay but a little longer."
They all pressed round, urging Chopin to remain. Seating himself, he
played even more beautifully than before. When the last tones had died
away, the innkeeper exclaimed, "Three cheers for the young Pole." At
this all joined in and the room rang with their lusty shouts.
While Chopin played a last mazurka, the ladies filled the pockets of the
coach with wine and dainties. When at last he rose to go, the innkeeper
seized him in his strong arms and carried him to the coach.
In after years, when Chopin had received the praises of all Europe, he
used to tell the story. He said, "My success in the old inn and the
cheers of those music-loving Germans are dearer to me than any other
praise that I ever received."
A few months after his return to Warsaw, Chopin visited Vienna. His
friends urged him to give a concert, and at last he consented. The
concert, given in the opera house, was a great success. The people of
Vienna were surprised that a youth of nineteen could produce such music.
They never dreamed that so great a musician could come from Poland.
Chopin had been at home but a short time when war broke out in Poland.
He was very eager to join the army, but his parents would not give their
consent. Even if he had gone to the wars, he could never have used a
sword. His hands were too small and delicate for such work.
When Chopin found that he could not fight for his beloved country, he
turned to his music. In a few years he had written scores of
compositions. Few of them have pretty names. He simply called them
waltzes, marches, and mazurkas.