Chopin as a Composer 334.
Appendix 350.
_To HERMANN SCHOLTZ._
_Our frequent conversations on Chopin have taught me to respect you as
an admirer of this great master, and as a true and faithful interpreter
of his glorious productions. It is to you, therefore, that I dedicate
this work, which, without vanity, I may call a monument raised with
care and devotion to his memory._
_Accept it as a proof of my sincere friendship and appreciative esteem
for your talents._
MORITZ KARASOWSKI.
_Dresden, January, 1877._
PREFACE.
Several years of friendship with the family of Frederic Chopin have
enabled me to become acquainted with his letters and to place them
before the public. Just as I had finished transcribing the first
series (letters of his youth) and was on the point of chronologically
arranging the second (Paris correspondence) the insurrection of
1863 broke out in Poland, and the sympathy aroused by the political
condition of the Fatherland weakened public interest in its literary
and artistic productions. I therefore deemed it advisable to abstain
from the publication of Chopinʼs letters.
When I gave back to his family the original letters, I did not dream
that in a few months they would be destroyed. How this happened I
shall in the proper place explain. The loss is a great and irreparable
one, for the number of letters from Paris, during a most brilliant and
interesting epoch, was by no means inconsiderable.
In compliance with the wishes of many of Chopinʼs friends and
admirers, I have undertaken to sketch his career from the materials
afforded me by his one surviving sister, from his letters which I
published in Warsaw, and from some other letters to his friends.
In this work, which contains full particulars about Chopinʼs youth, I
have corrected the erroneous dates and mis-statements, which have found
their way into all the German and French periodicals and books. If I
should succeed in presenting the reader with a life-like portrait of
the immortal artist, it will be the highest reward of my labour of love.
THE AUTHOR.
[Illustration]
LIFE OF CHOPIN.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
_NICHOLAS CHOPINʼS FAMILY AND FRIENDS. ZYWNY. ELSNER._
In the year 1787 Warsaw was in a state of unwonted excitement, for the
thoughts of the people were attracted to and concentrated upon the
Diet, that was shortly to assemble for the purpose of preserving the
Polish nation from the miseries incident to anarchy, for upholding the
Republic, remodelling old and defective laws, and framing new ones in
harmony with the requirements of the times.
A radical reform of the effete Constitution was considered by high
State functionaries, the clergy, and by the old nobility, to be
necessary. Admittedly, the Republic ought to be strong enough to
protect itself against hostile foreign influence, or a repetition of
the dismemberment of 1773. Consequently, an imposing standing army
was organized, and, for the purpose of raising the _status_ of the
citizens, special privileges were granted to the trading classes, and
the serfs were emancipated. Indeed, the patriots were desirous of
making all classes politically equal.
The election of members for the Diet was conducted in a spirit of true
patriotic zeal, and nearly all classes in Warsaw were taking part in
the necessary arrangements. Many of the noblest families removed to
the capital. Foreign ambassadors attended the palace to ascertain
the intentions of King Stanislas Augustus respecting the thorough
reforms required by the people. The chariots of the highest official
functionaries, Wojewoden, and Kastellane, frequently accompanied by
outriders in their gorgeous national costume, and carriages, filled
with elegantly dressed ladies, rolled along the streets; while
everywhere there prevailed a bustle and excitement long unknown in
Warsaw.
The whole nation was inspired by the hope of a brighter future. The
nobility were to aid a peaceful revolution by voluntarily renouncing
their privileges in favour of a younger generation. The future Republic
was viewed in the most glowing light. Notwithstanding the recent
partition which had rent the very heart of the country, and narrowly
circumscribed its boundaries, every patriot believed that Poland
would now rise from the degradation caused by long years of anarchy,
and, strengthened with new energy, defy every danger.
No wonder the inhabitants of the capital witnessed the preparations for
the important Diet with enthusiasm, or that the streets were thronged
with people. Members of the aristocracy, famous for their patriotism
and willing self-sacrifice for the good both of the people and the
Republic, were universally greeted with genuine esteem and affection.
Such was the scene of stirring activity presented by the capital during
the preparations for the quadrennial Diet.
Among the crowds which thronged the chief thoroughfares was a young
Frenchman, just arrived from his own country. Everything that met
his eye—from the dress of the burgher to the gorgeous apparel of the
rich noble, who at that time generally wore the picturesque national
costume—fixed his attention, and appeared to him unusually interesting
and original. This stranger was Nicholas Chopin, father of the renowned
pianist and tone-poet.
[Sidenote: NICHOLAS CHOPIN.]
Nicholas Chopin was born at Nancy, in Lorraine, April 17th, 1770. The
duchies of Lorraine and Bar passed, as is well-known, by the peace of
Vienna, in 1735, into the possession of the King of Poland, Stanislas
Leszczynski, after whose death they reverted to France.
Stanislas Leszczynski, a constant friend to science and art, made
great efforts for the spread of general culture among his people; he
founded, at Nancy, the still-existing “Academie Stanislai,” and by
his just and mild rule won the undivided esteem and affection of his
subjects. Nicholas Chopin was born when the remembrance of this prince
and philosopher was still in its first freshness. It had long been
the desire of Chopin, and many other educated Lorrainers, who knew
something of the history of Poland, to visit the country of the exiled
monarch who ruled their own little land, and to become acquainted with
a nation which, despite its own needs, was ever ready to assist the
wants of others.
An opportunity soon presented itself. The Starostin Lacynska, who met
Nicholas Chopin, at Nancy, and was prepossessed by his highly cultured
mind and amiable manners, offered him the appointment of tutor to her
two children, which he readily accepted. Bidding adieu to his family
and friends, he followed the Starostin, and arrived in Warsaw during
the political agitation of 1787.
During his residence with Starostin Lacynska, in the city, and at the
village of Czerniejow, the young Frenchman became acquainted with many
important official personages, some of whom played a prominent part in
the Diet.
He early perceived that a study of the manners and customs of the
people required a thorough knowledge of the language, and in that
acquisition he soon made considerable progress. The discussions in
the Diet interested him much, because they revealed the many wrongs
inflicted on a nation which, under the sceptre of the Jagiellons, had
been among the most powerful and distinguished.
[Sidenote: THE NEW POLISH CONSTITUTION.]
Nicholas Chopin, also, witnessed some important political celebrations
in Warsaw. The proclamation of the new Constitution of the 3rd May,
1791, made a deep and permanent impression upon him.[1]
With the exception of a few obstinately prejudiced aristocrats, the
results of the Diet were received by the whole nation with unexampled
enthusiasm. The joy of the people of Warsaw was unbounded, and everyone
hoped for a return of the golden age of Poland, as the reign of
Sigismund August II. has been rightly called.
As Nicholas Chopin found his social pleasures exclusively among Polish
circles, he began to regard Poland as his second home, and heartily
sympathised with the memorable act which promised brighter fortunes
to the land of the Sarmatians. The recollection of this period never
faded from his memory, and he would often describe to his family the
transport and enthusiasm of the people who thought its future happiness
assured by a firm government, the equality of all classes before the
law, and a standing army of 100,000 men.
Unfortunately these bright hopes were but short lived. Jealous
neighbours, to whose interests the re-organization and strengthening
of Poland were inimical, foreswore its downfall. Contrary to all
principles of justice, for Poland had not in the smallest degree
meddled in her affairs, Russia was the first to take up arms, under
the pretext of opposing the Jacobite tenets of the Constitution and of
restoring to the nobles the power taken from them by the people. The
lust of power and the corruptibility of certain magnates were used by
the Russian government for its own iniquitous ends, and the good laws
decreed by the quadrennial Diet never came into operation.
Frederick William II.,[2] of Prussia—although he professed friendship
for Poland, praised the Constitution, and on March 29th, 1790,
concluded, through his ambassador in Warsaw, Lucchesini, an offensive
and defensive alliance, guaranteeing the national independence—did not
hesitate to enter into a mutual engagement with Russia for a second
partition of Poland, by which he received, in the year 1793, an area
of 1,100 square miles, in the neighbourhood of Dantzic and Thorn. From
this time until its total annihilation, one misfortune after another
beset the sorely tried nation. When the weak and vacillating King
Stanislas Augustus not only deserted his people, because they defended
their independence and the Constitution of May 3rd, but even joined the
Russian party, the great Polish families, one by one, left Warsaw for
more secure abodes.
[Sidenote: NICHOLAS IN THE NATIONAL GUARDS.]
Nicholas Chopin, having lost his appointment with Starostin Lacynska,
resolved to leave the country; illness, however, forced him to remain
in Warsaw. He, therefore, witnessed, in 1794, the revolution of which
Kosciuszko was the hero, and also the siege of the capital by the
Prussians. Brave by nature, and zealous for the independence of Poland,
Nicholas Chopin entered the ranks of the National Guards, and took
an active part in the defence of the country. He had attained the
position of captain at the time of the defeat of the Polish army at
Maciejowice, when Kosciuszko was severely wounded and taken prisoner,
and overwhelming forces were marching on the suburb of Praga. Nicholas
Chopin was ordered thither with his company, and his death would have
been inevitable had he not been relieved from his post by another
company a few hours before the occupation.
It is notorious that, after the capture of Praga, November 5th, 1794,
Suwarow ordered his troops to kill all the inhabitants, old men, women,
and children not excepted. More than 10,000 persons fell victims
to the conquerorʼs cruelty. The third partition of Poland, which
was accomplished in the following year, gave the death blow to its
political existence. Poland disappeared from the ranks of nations, and
figured only on the map of Europe in fragments, incorporated with other
States. Warsaw alone was under Prussian supremacy.
After passing through this stormy period, Nicholas Chopin once more
resolved to return to France; but was again seized by a severe illness,
which forbade him undergoing the fatigue and delay which the long
journey at that time involved. He, therefore, remained in Warsaw, and
supported himself by giving lessons in French. When asked why he had
abandoned the idea of returning to his own country, he used to reply:
“I have twice made the attempt, but was prevented both times by a
severe illness, which almost cost me my life; it seems to be the will
of Providence that I should stay in Poland, and I willingly submit.”
In the beginning of the present century we find Nicholas Chopin
established in the house of the Countess Skarbek, as tutor to her son.
He there met and fell in love with Fräulein Justine Krzyzanowska, whom,
in 1806, he married. Their union was blessed with three daughters and
one son. Count Frederic Skarbek was god-father to the latter, and gave
him his own baptismal name, “Frederic.”
While little Fredericʼs parents were rejoicing in his growth and
development, the political condition of Poland again changed. The
formation of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, by Napoleon I., in the year
1807, on the basis of the peace of Tilsit, aroused the Poles from the
political death sleep into which they had sunk after the last partition
of their country. Raised by the successful conqueror to the importance
of an actual capital, Warsaw became the centre of action, animating and
concentrating all the powers of the newly-made Duchy. Thither everyone
eagerly repaired. With impetuous haste a government was organized, a
soldiery formed, and new schools established. Following the general
example, Nicholas Chopin returned with his family to Warsaw, where he
would be able to work with greater advantage both to himself and to
the country of his adoption. [Sidenote: APPOINTMENTS IN WARSAW.] On
October 1st, 1810, he was appointed Professor of French at the newly
established Lyceum, where he continued in active work for twenty-one
years, that is, until its overthrow by the Russian government. On
January 1st, 1812, he entered on similar duties at the School of
Artillery and Engineering.
When the kingdom of Poland had been restored, on the basis of the
Congress of Vienna, principally out of those portions which had
previously formed the Grand Duchies, Nicholas Chopin undertook the
professorship of French at the Military Elementary School. The
insurrection of November 29th, 1830, which had awakened among Polish
patriots hopes of deliverance from Russian domination, ended in total
discomfiture.
Fresh misfortunes visited the country. The most intelligent portion of
the nation and the representatives of the government emigrated, the
army was disbanded, the universities removed, the Lyceum and other
educational establishments closed. Nicholas Chopin was a member of
the Examining Committee for candidates for appointments in the public
schools, and finally became professor at the Academy for Roman Catholic
Clergy.
The strenuous exertions undertaken by Chopin, out of love for his
adopted country, induced a gradual failure of his powers; he,
therefore, accepted a pension, and retired from public life. His
integrity and noble-mindedness, his dignity under adverse fortune, and
the blameless purity of his life, caused him to be highly respected in
the country he had made his own. The best Polish families were anxious
to entrust the training of their sons to his care, and to place them
in a household universally esteemed, so that for some years Nicholas
Chopin had the charge of a considerable number of youths who were
educated with his own son Frederic. Anxiety about his son did much to
becloud the last years of his life. Amid the devoted care of his family
Nicholas Chopin died, in 1844, aged seventy-four.
[Sidenote: NICHOLAS CHOPINʼS FAMILY.]
Justine Chopin, who had shared all her husbandʼs joys and troubles,
was of an exceedingly gentle disposition, and excelled in all womanly
virtues. The fame of her son Frederic, did not render her in the least
haughty. Domestic peace was her highest happiness. Providence afflicted
her with severe trials: after the death of her husband she lost two
amiable daughters, and then her only and dearly loved son, the last
moments of whose life she was unable to soothe by her motherly care.
But these afflictions were borne with touching patience. In extreme old
age she lived in the house of her one surviving daughter; her last days
were devoted almost entirely to prayer, and she never went out except
to church. She died October 1st, 1861.
Louisa, the eldest child, born April 6th, 1807, received a very
careful education, and soon became a great help to her parents. She
was distinguished by unusual intellectual gifts, industry, and very
agreeable manners. In conjunction with her sister, Isabella, she wrote
some books on the best means for the elevation of the working classes.
After her marriage with Professor Jedrzejewicz, in 1832, she devoted
herself to the education of her children, and gave less attention to
literature. She did not, however, entirely lay aside her pen, but
wrote and published, in various journals, papers and articles on the
education of youth. She died October 29th, 1855.
Nicholas Chopinʼs second daughter, Isabella, married the Inspector of
Schools, Anton Barcinski, who afterwards became Director of Steamboats.
They are both still living in Warsaw.
Emily, the youngest daughter, a very attractive girl, of whom the
highest hopes were entertained, died in her fourteenth year, April
10th, 1827. Educated beyond her years, unceasingly bright and witty,
she possessed the happy gift of always diffusing cheerfulness. She was,
therefore, much beloved, and her wit, affectionate flattery, or droll
mimicry, often prevailed with her parents when her elder sistersʼ and
even her brotherʼs influence had been of no avail.
Thirsting for knowledge, she worked untiringly. The writings of the
principal Polish authors, such as Clementine and Tanska, had so
deeply impressed her, that she made it the aim of her life to become
an authoress. She, therefore, at an early age, zealously studied her
mother tongue, which she soon succeeded in mastering. Some poems which
she wrote for special occasions were distinguished by blameless form
and harmony; even in her thirteenth year Emily and her sister Isabella
were engaged in translating into Polish the tales of the German
writer, Salzmann; but her early death, unfortunately, prevented the
completion of this work. Judging from such of her poetical effusions as
still remain, it may be assumed, that had she lived, Emily would have
attained as brilliant a position in Polish literature as her brother
has in music. She suffered from an incurable complaint of the chest,
and, in her last moments, seeing the suffering and despair of the
relatives around her, she repeated the lines:
“Wie bitter ist des Menschen Loos auf Erden,
Sieht er wie um _sein_ Leid, die _Seinen_ traurig werden.”
Thus, at the early age of fourteen, passed away this talented girl,
whose premature intellectual development was so remarkable.
In contemplating the family of Frederic Chopin we see his own character
in its fairest light, and understand how he became what he was. In a
certain sense a human being resembles a plant: nationality, parents,
family, friends, and teachers, all have a share in his development.
Happy the man who regards his parents with loving reverence, who
rejoices in good brothers and sisters and excellent teachers.
[Sidenote: DR. AND MADAME VON LINDE.]
One of Nicholas Chopinʼs oldest friends was his colleague and superior,
the famous philologist, Dr. Samuel Bogumil von Linde, who earned the
thanks of the whole nation by the compilation of his valuable Polish
dictionary. His merit is so much the greater as, independently of the
labours of Wilhelm von Humboldt and Bopp, he applied the comparative
and historical method to his work, thus rendering it, to speak
accurately, a parallel comparison of the Slavonic languages.
Frederic Chopin often played duets with Madame von Linde, who was an
unusually well educated woman, and a remarkable pianist for her time.
To her Chopin dedicated his first published work, Rondo, op. 1. This
composition was the first instalment of the rare treasures with which
he has enriched the literature of music.
Another of Nicholas Chopinʼs colleagues was Waclaw Alexander
Maciejowski, celebrated for his researches in history and Slavonic law.
His works are much valued by students, and have been translated into
several languages.
Among others who were from time to time Nicholas Chopinʼs guests
were: Count Skarbek, an excellent author, foster-son to Nicholas,
and god-father to Frederic Chopin; the Professors of the University,
Brodzinski, poet and student of aesthetics; Julius Kolberg, an
engineer, father of the ethnologist Oskar, the indefatigable collector
of folk songs; Jarocki, a learned zoologist; Anton Brodowski, a
celebrated historical and portrait painter; Anton Barcinski, Professor
at the Polytechnic school since 1823, teacher in the hostʼs _pension_,
and afterwards his son-in-law; Jawurek, a talented musician; and last
of all Chopinʼs two masters, Zywny and Elsner.
Adalbert Zywny, born in Bohemia, in 1756, came to Poland in the reign
of Stanislas Augustus. His first appointment was that of music teacher
in the house of Prince Casimir Sapiecha; then he settled in Warsaw as
teacher of the piano. He died in 1840.
[Sidenote: JOSEPH ELSNER.]
Of Elsner I must speak more particularly, because, as Chopinʼs
master for counterpoint, he first discovered his pupilʼs creative
originality, and by guidance and counsel assisted considerably in the
development of his talent for composition. Frederic, therefore, not
only loved and valued Elsner as a teacher, but also as an intimate
friend. As will be seen, his name frequently occurs in Chopinʼs
letters. In Germany Elsner is almost unknown as a composer, although he
rendered good service to church music.
Joseph Xaver Elsner was born June 29th, 1769, at Grottkau, in Silesia.
His father, who was an instrument maker, wished him to study medicine,
but Joseph preferred to devote himself to music. Maar, bandmaster at
Breslau, gave him his first instruction in counterpoint. In 1792,
Elsner went to Poland, holding the post of bandmaster and composer at
the National Theatre, first at Lemberg and then in Warsaw. In 1816,
after the proclamation of the institution of the new kingdom by the
Congress of Vienna, he was entrusted with the establishment of a
school for organists, and six years after with the direction of the
Conservatoire.
Besides the German operas, “Die Seltenen Brüder,” “Der Verkleidete
Sultan,” and “Il Flauto Magico,” which Eisner composed at Lemberg, he
wrote twenty-seven Polish operas and melodramas, a great number of
arias, cantatas, string quartets, and three symphonies, besides several
ecclesiastical works, among which the oratorio, “Das Leiden Christi”
was several times performed in Warsaw, and very favourably received.
Its wealth of melody, no less than its technical working, renders
this one of the chief, and, perhaps, the most successful of Elsnerʼs
compositions. He also rendered great services to Poland, as teacher
and director at the Conservatoire. He trained a considerable number
of talented young men, who afterwards became excellent musicians, and
otherwise promoted the cultivation of music in the noblest manner. He
died April 18th, 1854.
A magnificent monument, raised by public subscription, adorns his tomb
in Warsaw.
Titled landowners were also included in the circle of Nicholas Chopinʼs
friends. Most of them had been his pupils, or had become acquainted
with him through their sons. In later years, when Fredericʼs rare and
brilliant talents were more fully developed, his father counted among
his guests not only _savants_, poets, and artists, but the _élite_ of
the aristocracy, who considered it an honour to become acquainted with
this interesting and highly esteemed family, and delighted in admiring
the young artist for whom a glorious future was already prophesied.
These were bright and happy days passed by Chopin in his fatherʼs house.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II.
_FREDERICʼS CHILDHOOD. HIS FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC.
IMPROVISATIONS. POLISH NATIONAL SONGS._
On March 1st, 1809, Frederic François Chopin was born, at Zelazowa
Wola, a village six miles from Warsaw, belonging to Count Skarbek, in
whose house Nicholas Chopin was tutor.[3]
In his earliest years Frederic was so very sensitive to music that he
wept whenever he heard it, and was with difficulty restrained. This
powerful influence was not a painful one; for Frederic soon showed such
a decided love for the piano, that his parents obtained instruction
for him, selecting as his master the well-known and excellent teacher,
Albert Zywny, of Warsaw. As Frederic was so young, his elder sister
shared the music lessons.
Zywny was the first and only director of Fredericʼs precocious musical
talents, for the child began to compose before he even knew how to
commit his ideas to paper. He would request his master to write down
what he improvised, and these first thoughts were afterwards frequently
altered and improved by the gifted boy.
Thus early did he indicate his future care in composition, and his
truly artistic nature. In a few years Frederic made such progress in
pianoforte playing as to excite wonder in all Warsaw drawing rooms. On
the occasion of a public concert, for the benefit of the poor, February
24th, 1818, Julius Ursin Miemcewicz, late adjutant to Kosciuszko, and
himself a great statesman, poet, historian, and political writer, and
other high personages, invited the co-operation of the virtuoso, who
had not quite completed his ninth year. Such a request could not be
refused, and thus Chopinʼs first step in his artistic career was for a
charitable object. A few hours before the performance (he was to play
Gyrowetzʼs pianoforte Concerto), “Fritzchen,” as he was called at home,
was placed on a chair to be suitably dressed for his first appearance
before a large assembly. The child was delighted with his jacket, and
especially with the handsome collar. After the concert, his mother, who
had not been present, asked, as she embraced him, “what did the public
like best?” He naïvely answered: “Oh, mamma, everybody looked only at
my collar,” thus showing that he was not vain of his playing.
[Sidenote: PATRONIZED BY THE CHIEF ARISTOCRACY.]
From that evening the flower of the aristocracy vied with each other in
patronizing the marvellous boy, whom they regarded as an ornament of
their _salons_. We merely mention the Princes Czartoryski, Sapiecha,
Czetwertynski, Lubecki, Radziwill, Counts Skarbek, Wolicki, Pruszak,
Hussarzewski, Lempicki. The Princess Czetwertynski introduced him to
the Princess Lowicka, the unhappy wife of the Grand Prince Constantin
Pawlowicz. Young, bewitchingly beautiful, full of intelligence and
grace, her charms won the affections of the Grand Prince, who shunned
no sacrifice to make her his own. His passion for this beautiful woman
only temporarily modified his harshness and violence, and, in her
wretched life, the enjoyment of art was her one solace.
Accustomed in his fatherʼs house to good society, and now having the
_entrée_ of the first _salons_ in the capital, refined surroundings
became to Frederic a second nature, and gave him the life-long impress
of a gentleman. He always had an aversion to coarse people, and avoided
anyone who lacked good manners.
Catalini, when passing through Warsaw, became acquainted with the
youthful virtuoso, and was delighted with his artistic pianoforte
playing. As a grateful recognition of the enjoyment he had afforded
her, she presented him with a gold watch, on the back of which was
inscribed: “Donné par Madame Catalini à Frédéric Chopin, agé de dix
ans.” Fredericʼs earliest compositions were dances, Polonaises,
Mazurkas, Waltzes; then he accomplished a March, which he ventured to
dedicate to the Grand Prince Constantine. This violent man, the terror
of those around him, was often very kind to the little artist; he
accepted the dedication very graciously, and desired Frederic to play
the piece to him. Fortunately for the young composer the Prince liked
it, and he walked up and down while it was being played, smiling and
beating time with the utmost complacency. He had the March[4] scored,
and it was often performed at the military parade, in the Saxon Square.
Frederic occasionally improvised in the drawing room of the Grand
Princess. Noticing his habit of casting up his eyes and gazing at the
ceiling, the Prince said to him: “Why do you always look upwards, boy?
do you see notes up there?” Probably Chopin saw nothing around him when
listening to the voice of his genius.
[Sidenote: EXTENDED AND DISSEVERED CHORDS.]
From contemporary observers we learn with what perseverance he laboured
to overcome the technical difficulties of the pianoforte. Impressed by
the good effect of a chord with the dominant in the higher octave, but
unable to play it with his small hand, he endeavoured to produce the
desired expansion by a mechanical contrivance of his own manufacture,
which he kept between his fingers even during the night. He was not
led to use this aid by a desire of fame or of forestalling others, in
inventing and surmounting new difficulties, but because he perceived
the difference between a slurred and a detached chord. These chords
became a characteristic feature in Chopinʼs compositions. At first
they were thought almost impossible for systematic use, but players
grew accustomed to them, and now no pianist finds them unsuited to the
capacities of the hand.
The refinement and elegance of Chopinʼs musical ideas, and his obvious
desire for the frequent use of extended chords, already reveal his
peculiar _penchant_ for new, dissevered chords. Perceiving Fredericʼs
uncommon talent for composition, his father had him instructed in
counterpoint, as far as was compatible with his preparation for the
Warsaw Lyceum, not having as yet entertained the idea of making him
an artist. Nicholas Chopin made a most fortunate choice in asking his
friend, Elsner, to become Fredericʼs instructor. Teacher and pupil were
united till death, in a pure and faithful friendship, such as only
the noblest minds can feel. When people remarked to Elsner, as they
frequently did, that Frederic under-rated and set aside the customary
rules and universal laws of music, and listened only to the dictates
of his own fancy, the worthy director of the Conservatoire would
reply: “Leave him alone, he does not follow the common way because his
talents are uncommon; he does not adhere to the old method because he
has one of his own, and his works will reveal an originality hitherto
unknown.” This prophecy has been fully fulfilled. A less discerning
teacher might have hindered and repressed his pupilʼs efforts, and so
quenched the desire for loftier flights. To the astonishment of his
friends, Frederic excelled in everything he undertook, and they formed
the most brilliant expectations of his future. Extraordinary vivacity
of temperament prompted him to incessant activity, and sharpened his
innate, irrepressible, and versatile humour. What innumerable tricks
he was continually playing on his sisters, schoolfellows, and even
on persons of riper years! His youngest sister, Emily, was an active
assistant in these merry pranks.
The birthdays of his parents and intimate friends were frequently
celebrated by theatrical representations, in which Frederic usually
took the most active part. The eminent dramatic artist of that time,
Albert Piasecki, who acted as manager at these representations,
considered that Chopin, on account of his presence of mind, excellent
declamation, and capacity for rapid facial changes, was born to be
a great actor. Fredericʼs acting, indeed, often astonished the best
connoisseurs. He frequently saved a piece by improvising his own
and other parts, when one of the players forgot his _rôle_, or the
prompter failed to assist. It is well known that his talent for musical
improvisation contributed in no small degree in after years to his
fame.
Having, under the excellent guidance of Elsner, mastered the
technicalities of music, Chopin could improvise to an unlimited extent
on any given theme, producing the most graceful changes, and drawing
the most marvellous effects from the keyboard. In these improvisations,
and particularly in those of a later period, Chopin showed himself a
true poet, and this explains why poets admired him so ardently and
felt inspired by his playing. Those who heard Chopin at such times
say that his finest compositions are but a reflex and echo of his
improvisations. When Frederic was fifteen, and Emily eleven, [Sidenote:
HIS ONE-ACT COMEDY IN VERSE.] they wrote in honour of their fatherʼs
birthday, a one-act comedy, in verse, entitled: “The Mistake; or, the
Imaginary Rogue.” Frederic, Isabella, and Emily took the principal
parts, the others were divided among the boarders. The comedy is too
ephemeral and näive for quotation, but it displayed the intelligence of
the youthful authors, and their command of language. In the same year
(1824) Frederic entered the fourth class at the Lyceum, and although
he frequently indulged in his harmless and always witty pranks, he was
one of the best and most talented pupils. He used to make his fellow
students laugh by caricaturing the professor of history discoursing
on great celebrities. In a lucky moment, he caricatured the director,
Mons. Linde, to the life, but unfortunately the drawing fell into the
directorʼs hands. This worthy man, who was indulgent to everyone,
and especially to the young, returned the paper to Chopin, without
a word, having written on it, “the likeness is well drawn.” For a
long time Frederic took a delight in catching the ludicrous side of a
characteristic figure, and caricaturing it.
He spent his first holidays in Mazovia, at the village of Szafarnia,
which belonged to the Dziewanowski estate, where he soon formed a warm
and lasting friendship with the children of this distinguished family.
To any boy brought up in a city, a stay of several weeks in the country
is a time full of freedom and delight; and how infinitely greater would
be the enjoyment of a gifted boy like Chopin when, unburdened by school
exercises, he can wander through wood and meadow, dreaming of fairies
and wood-nymphs. Frederic, who was not at all fond of long, fatiguing
walks, loved to lie under a tree, and indulge in beautiful day-dreams.
Instead of an ordinary correspondence it occurred to him to bring
out a little periodical under the title of the _Kurjer Szafarski_,
on the model of the _Warsaw Courier_, a paper then published in the
capital. Among the memorials of Frederic, collected by the family
are two numbers of this little journal, for the year 1824. At the
beginning of the first number we read: “On July 15th, M. Pichon (a
name Frederic assumed) appeared at the musical assembly at Szafarnia,
at which were present several persons, big and little: he played
Kalkbrennerʼs Concerto, but this did not produce such a _furore_,
especially among the youthful hearers, as the song which the same
gentleman rendered.” It happened that a great many Jews were at that
time in the neighbouring village of Oborów (the property of M. Romocki)
to buy grain. [Sidenote: “HE PLAYS LIKE A BORN JEW.”] Frederic invited
some of them to his room, and played to them a kind of Jewish wedding
March, called “Majufes.” His performance excited such enthusiasm among
his guests that they not only began to dance, but earnestly begged him
to come to an approaching Jewish marriage, and give them some more of
his exquisite music. “He plays,” said the delighted Israelites, “like a
born Jew.”[5]
The remainder of the news of the _Kurjer Szfarski_ consisted of
humorous descriptions of the daily events of the village. A strange
glimpse of the condition of Poland is afforded by the fact, that
according to a custom, which even now prevails in Warsaw, each issue
of this journal was examined by the government censor, whose business
it was to write on every number, “lawful for transmission.” The office
was at that time held by Mlle. Louise Dziewanowska, daughter of the
proprietor of Szafarnia.
It would be impossible to enumerate all the jokes and harmless
mysteries which this famous man indulged in during the happy days of
boyhood, but I will mention a few of his merry tricks, for the sake of
those who linger with affectionate interest over his early years.
Mons. Romocki, the proprietor of Oborów, once sold his wheat to a
Jewish merchant. Hearing of the purchase, Frederic wrote a letter in
the Polo-Jewish style, purporting to come from the buyer, and stating
that, after mature consideration, he found he should be a loser by
the bargain, and, therefore, declined it. The writing was abominable,
the spelling full of blunders, but the deception succeeded so well
that Romocki was in a frightful rage. He sent for the Jew instantly,
and would probably have soundly belaboured the unfortunate merchant
had not Frederic confessed his mischievous trick in time. Romocki
laughed at the joke, and was on his guard against being taken in
again by Frederic. The deeper meaning underlying all the acts of this
accomplished man in later years showed itself even here. Romocki was
ashamed of his fury, and it is said from that day he very rarely, and
only from necessity, took a whip in his hand.
Between 1820 and 1830 there was an Evangelical pastor in Warsaw, named
Tetzner, who preached every Sunday in German and Polish alternately,
and from his defective knowledge of the language, proclaimed the truths
of the gospel in very broken Polish. Being led into his church from
curiosity, Frederic was at once struck by the droll speech of the
preacher, and carefully noticed every wrongly pronounced word. When he
reached home, he constructed a kind of pulpit with tables and chairs,
put on a whig, and, summoning the family, delivered a discourse in
imitation of the pastorʼs broken Polish, which was so ludicrous that
his hearers burst into roars of laughter.
If his fatherʼs pupils made too much noise in the house, Frederic had
only to place himself at the piano to produce instant and perfect
quiet. One day when Professor Chopin was out there was a frightful
scene. Barcinski, the master present, was at his witsʼ end, when
Frederic, happily, entered the room.[6] Without deliberation he
requested the roisterers to sit down, called in those who were making
a noise outside, and promised to improvise an interesting story on the
piano, if they would be quite quiet. All were instantly as still as
[Sidenote: CHILDREN SPELL-BOUND BY HIS PLAYING.] death, and Frederic
sat down to the instrument and extinguished the lights.[7] He described
how robbers approached a house, mounted by ladders to the windows, but
were frightened away by a noise within. Without delay they fled on
the wings of the wind into a deep, dark wood, where they fell asleep
under the starry sky. He played more and more softly, as if trying to
lull children to rest, till he found that his hearers had actually
fallen asleep. The young artist noiselessly crept out of the room, to
his parents and sisters, and asked them to follow him with a light.
When the family had amused themselves with the various postures of the
sleepers, Frederic sat down again to the piano, and struck a thrilling
chord, at which they all sprang up in a fright. A hearty laugh was the
_finale_ of this musical joke.
Further on in his life we meet with a companion picture to this
story, which affords us an excellent example of Fredericʼs talent for
improvisation, profound knowledge of counterpoint, and mastery over all
technical difficulties. Like all gifted and accomplished musicians,
he showed an especial preference for the organ as offering wide scope
for the freest improvisation. It was customary for the students of the
Warsaw University to assemble about eleven in the morning for service
at the Wizytek Church, at which artists and _dilettanti_ performed
vocal masses with and without orchestral accompaniments.
Chopin sometimes sat in the choir and played the organ. One day
when the celebrant had sung the “Oremus,” Frederic improvised, in a
highly ingenious manner, on the motive of the portion of the mass
already performed, working out the fundamental thought with the most
interesting combinations and contrapuntal devices. The choristers
and band, spell-bound by the magic power of his fancy, left their
desks, and surrounded the player, listening with rapt attention, as if
they had been in the concert room rather than the church. The priest,
at the altar, patiently awaited the conclusion, but the sacristan
rushed angrily into the choir, exclaiming: “what the d—— are you
doing? The priest has twice intoned, _Per omnia sæcula sæculorum_, the
ministrant has rung repeatedly, and still you keep on playing. The
superior who sent me is out of all patience.” [Sidenote: HIS REVERIE IN
CHURCH.] Chopin awoke from his reverïe, and his hands lay motionless
on the keys. Although his wonderful improvisations generally cost
him but little trouble, he spared no pains when preparing a work for
publication. When absorbed by a thought he would brood over it for
hours and days in perfect silence and solitude. What passed in the
soul of the tone-poet at these seasons cannot be described; with such
psychological conditions the imaginative can sympathise, and all who
are sensible to the influences of poetry and art may in some measure
understand.
Chopin had an instrument in his bed-room, and often worked far on into
the night; sometimes when the rest of the household were asleep, he
would spring out of bed, rush to his piano, and strike a few chords,
developing some immatured thought, or resolving some imperfect harmony.
Then he would lie down, but only to rise and do the same thing again,
daylight frequently finding him thus occupied. The servants, by
whom Frederic was much beloved, but who could not understand such
proceedings, shook their heads compassionately, and said, “The poor
young gentlemanʼs mind is affected.”
When on an excursion with his father to the suburbs, or spending his
holidays in the country, he always listened attentively to the song of
the reaper, and the tune of the peasant fiddler, fixing in his memory
and delighting to idealise these frequently original and expressive
melodies. He often wondered who was the creator of the beautiful
melodies interwoven in the Mazurkas, Cracoviennes, and Polonaises, and
how the Polish peasants learnt to sing and play the violin with such
purity. No one could give him any information. Indeed both the words
and melodies of these songs are the creation of several minds. An
artless, spontaneous melody, poured forth by one person, is altered,
and perhaps improved, by another, and so passes from mouth to mouth
till finally it becomes a possession of all the people. Slavonic
folk-songs differ greatly from the Romance and Germanic; they are
historical records of the feelings, customs, and character of the
people.[8]
[Sidenote: MAZOVIAN MUSICIANS.]
Chopin was born and bred in Mazovia, a peculiarly music-loving
province. A distinguished Polish writer[9] says: “The love of song
characterizes the Slavonic above all other races; the rudest peasant
could be allured to the end of the world by his national songs.” The
Mazovians have such an intense love for music that they sing about
the commonest affairs of life, readily perceiving their pleasing and
touching phases. The predilection of the Poles for these songs is often
a matter of pecuniary profit, for a beggar, with some talent in singing
and playing the violin, has no difficulty in obtaining alms. During the
great festivals—Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas—men and women walk
about the Mazovian villages, singing and playing appropriate dances,
and everywhere they are warmly received, gladly listened to, and not
sparingly rewarded. Nearly all these songs originated in the cottage,
their composers were men who could neither read nor write, and whose
names will always remain unknown.
Poetical perception and sensibility to the beauties of nature are
evidently innate in the Polish character; they are susceptibilities
which neither prosaic work, the cares of daily life, nor even the
burden of more than a century of national suffering have had power to
blunt.
In his childhood Chopin had imbedded these folk-songs in his memory,
and, impressed by their peculiar beauty, he frequently interwove some
especial favorite into his own compositions. He first gave the national
dance tune a truly beautiful and perfect form by adorning it with
interesting harmonies and poetical arabesques.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER III.
CHOPINʼS EARLY MANHOOD. HIS FIRST JOURNEY. HIS RELATIONS WITH
PRINCE ANTON RADZIWILL.
The year 1825 found Fredericʼs social and artistic circle continually
increasing in numbers and influence, and the fame of his extraordinary
musical talents spreading far and wide. He excited universal interest,
and it is a proof of his popularity that the only strikingly successful
concerts were those in which he took part. His marvellous playing at
two grand concerts, given for charitable objects, in the hall of the
Conservatoire, on May 27th, and June 10th, 1825, awakened unbounded
approbation. As the best pianist in the capital, Chopin was summoned
to play before the Emperor, Alexander I., who, during his stay in
Warsaw, was desirous of hearing the newly-invented Aelomelodicon.[10]
The instrument was placed in the Protestant Church, for the sake of
heightening the tone by its being heard under the enormous dome of
that building. In token of his admiration of the wonderful performance
of the talented youth, then little more than a boy, the Emperor
presented him with a valuable diamond ring.
The same year saw the publication of Chopinʼs first printed work, the
Rondo dedicated to Madame von Linde. Neither this nor the following
“Rondo à la Masur,” op. 5, also published in Warsaw, made him famous
abroad, but in his own city he was already regarded as a popular and
rapidly ripening artist. Looking at their son merely as a distinguished
_dilettante_, his parents had not made music his chief study, but when
they saw that Frederic was by nature designed for a great musician,
they removed all obstacles, and left him to the undisturbed enjoyment
of his piano and his poetic dreams.
Everywhere he was warmly welcomed: in the drawing-rooms of the
aristocracy, by his comrades at the Conservatoire, or the Lyceum, of
which he was considered the highest ornament, and where he formed
some life-long friendships. Among these friends we may mention Titus
Woyciechowski, to whom he dedicated his “Variations, op. 2;” Alexander
Rembielinski;[11] Wilhelm von Kolberg; Johann Matuszynski, Stanislas
Kozmian, now President of the Scientific Society at Posen; Eustachius
Marylski; Dominicus Magnuszewski and Stephan Witwicki, both poets of
talent; Celinski; Hube, and Julius Fontana.[12]
[Sidenote: NO JEALOUSY OF HIM AMONG HIS FELLOWS.]
Frederic excited no jealousy among his fellow students at the
Conservatoire, for his talents as pianist and composer were so
pre-eminent that they all bowed before him as their master. Kind and
affable by disposition he had also an innate grace, while, from his
education and refined surroundings, he possessed, even in early youth,
the tact of a grown-up person. These qualities won the esteem and
affection of all who knew him, and no one was offended by his practical
jokes, mimicries, or caricatures.
The activity of the young artist was intense, and although his
excessive exertions appeared to him but slight, they undoubtedly
injured his delicate constitution. Fredericʼs parents having been
advised by the physicians to send their youngest daughter, Emily, to
Bad Reinerz, in Silesia, they thought it well to let him accompany
her that he might try the whey cure. Accordingly, at the beginning of
the holidays of 1826, the mother, Louise, Emily, and Frederic went to
the then much frequented spring. During their visit a poor widow, who
had vainly been seeking help from the healing stream, died, leaving
two young children, under the care of a faithful nurse, but without
sufficient means for the funeral and the journey home. Hearing of their
need, Chopin made the noblest use of his talents. He arranged a concert
for the benefit of the poor children, and had the satisfaction of
obtaining a good sum. By his masterly playing he won the admiration of
the connoisseurs; by his benevolence, the esteem of all generous minds.
He became the object of the most courteous attention. A few days after
the concert Frederic and his family left Reinerz, and spent the rest
of the summer at the village of Strzyzewo, part of the estate of his
godmother, Madame von Wiesiolowska, sister to Count Skarbek.
Prince Anton Radziwill, a wealthy nobleman, related to the Prussian
Royal family, and Governor of the Duchy of Posen, had his summer
residence in the neighbouring village, Antonin. A passionate lover
of music, a keen connoisseur, and a thoroughly trained composer, he
had obtained celebrity by his music to the first part of Goetheʼs
_Faust_, which, by Royal command, was for several years performed
annually in his honour at the Berlin Academy for Singing. He had a
very agreeable tenor voice, and also played the violoncello well.
His house, in Posen, was the _rendezvous_ for the best artists, and
quartet parties for the performance of classical music were held in his
_salons_ nearly every week, the Prince himself playing the violoncello.
Frederic having availed himself of an invitation to Antonin, the
Prince took a great fancy to him, and was charmed with his playing. In
May, 1829, when he went to Warsaw as representative of the Prussian
court, at the coronation of the Emperor Nicholas, [Sidenote: VISITED
BY PRINCE ANTON RADZIWILL.] he visited Frederic at his fatherʼs house,
and was very pressing in inviting him to his establishment at Posen.
There was no further personal intercourse between this magnate and
our artist, yet writers, ignorant of the facts, have represented the
Prince as Chopinʼs benefactor, and as having supplied the means for his
education. Franz Liszt was the first to promulgate this error in his
book, entitled “Francois Chopin,” written in French, shortly after the
masterʼs death, in which he says, “supplementing the limited means of
the family, the Prince bestowed on Frederic the inestimable gift of a
good and complete education. Through a friend, M. Antoine Korzuchowski,
the Prince, whose own elevated mind enabled him to understand the
requirements of an artistic career, always paid his educational
expenses. From this time until the death of Chopin, M. Korzuchowski
held the closest relations of friendship with him.” In this statement
there is not a word of truth, yet it has been repeated not only by
foreign, but, what is less pardonable, even by Polish authors.
We are fully aware that in the portions of the work relating to
Chopinʼs youth, manners, compositions, and to the Polish national
music, Liszt received much help from a Polish emigrant, Franz
Grzymala. He had been a deputy at the Diet, and was an able author and
journalist; he died in Paris in 1871, the day after the capitulation.
Not having made Chopinʼs acquaintance until his residence in Paris, it
does not appear, from what he told Liszt, that he could have possessed
any accurate information about his early life. Julius Fontana, who
had known Chopin from childhood, entered a protest against Lisztʼs
assertion, so also did the parents of the great artist, who were
sadly pained to read that Prince Radziwill had entirely provided for
Fredericʼs education. Professor at three large academies in Warsaw, and
proprietor of a flourishing _pension_, surely Nicholas Chopin would
have found means for the education of his dearly loved and only son.
An equally untrue report has been spread to the effect that Chopin
travelled to Italy at the expense of Prince Radziwill. In reality
the expenses of the journey were defrayed by the receipts of three
numerously attended concerts given in Warsaw. The first time he asked
his father for money was when he had determined on going to Paris,
after a sojourn of eighteen months in the beautiful Austrian capital.
In his charming, child-like manner, he lamented that he should be the
cause of additional expenditure to his parents, to whom he had, he
thought, already cost quite enough. His father sent him the money, and
an affectionate letter, expressing his willingness to supply him with
means, until he procured some regular mode of subsistence in Paris.
[Sidenote: DEDICATES HIS TRIO TO THE PRINCE.]
As a mark of friendship and respect for the distinguished composer
of the music to _Faust_, Frederic dedicated to him his Trio, for
pianoforte and violoncello, op. 8, composed in Warsaw between 1827
and 1829; so that in point of fact Chopin, not the Prince, was the
donor. It is only fair to Liszt to say that he is less to blame for the
circulation of the error we have pointed out, than Grzymala and those
who blindly believed and promulgated a statement so utterly false.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV.
_THE JOURNEY TO BERLIN. CHOPINʼS LETTERS. AN INCIDENT OF THE
RETURN TO WARSAW._
In 1827 Chopin passed his final examination before leaving the Lyceum,
not, however, with such brilliant success as on former occasions, when
every promotion to a higher class had been accompanied by a special
reward. This is accounted for by his having, during the last year,
devoted his chief energies to music, a goodly pile of compositions,
finished or sketched in outline, being found in his study. Elsner,
who was the keenest observer and most competent judge of Fredericʼs
artistic progress, and creative power, exhorted his parents to let
their son have his own way, and to do all they could to encourage his
lofty flights of fancy.
The question now was how to give the young composer better
opportunities for hearing and studying than his native city afforded.
Although first-rate artists occasionally gave concerts in Warsaw,
Frederic could only satisfy his ardent desire of hearing the sublime
works of the classic masters, in the larger European centres of life
and intelligence. His parents, therefore, resolved to send their
beloved son to Vienna or Berlin, if only for a few weeks, at the very
first favourable opportunity. One soon offered. In 1828, Professor
Jarocki, having been invited by Alexander von Humboldt to the
Naturalistsʼ Congress, at Berlin, Nicholas Chopin was only too happy
to confide his son to the care of one of his best friends, while the
Professor was equally pleased to have the company of an amiable and
talented young man like Chopin.
[Sidenote: VISITS BERLIN.]
Thus he left his native land for the first time to visit a large
foreign city, where he hoped to learn a great deal. Unconscious of his
own artistic greatness he had no wish to appear in Berlin as a pianist
or composer. An opportunity was offered him of meeting Spontini,
Zelter, and the youthful though famous Felix Mendelssohn, but he did
not venture to present himself before these celebrated masters. The
physiognomies of the German _savants_ seemed odd to the young Pole,
the French blood stirred in his veins, and he could not refrain from
caricaturing these worthy but somewhat strange-looking gentlemen.
He was enraptured with the oratorio of Handelʼs, which he heard at
the Academy of Singing: never had he received so deep an impression
from church music. The performance of _Der Freischütz_, with which
bewitching opera he had already become acquainted in Warsaw, likewise
gave him indescribable delight, while he was much interested in
comparing the opera in that city with the Royal opera in Berlin.
Since he left Warsaw the only time he touched the piano was at a little
village on his way back, when he played at the request of the post
master and his travelling companions.
We will now let our artist speak for himself, only making such
alterations as the necessities of translation require.
[Sidenote: LETTER TO WOYCIECHOWSKY.]
_To Titus Woyciechowsky._
_Warsaw, September 9th, 1828._
DEAREST TITUS,
You cannot think how I have been longing for news of you and your
mother, nor imagine my joy when I received your letter. I was then
at Strzyzewo, where I spent the whole summer, but could not reply
immediately because I was so busy preparing to return to Warsaw.
Now I am writing like a lunatic, for I really do not know what I
am about. I am actually starting for Berlin to-day! There is to be
a philosophical congress at Berlin—after the model of those held
in Switzerland and Bavaria—to which the King has requested the
University to invite the most celebrated European naturalists. The
president is to be the renowned Alexander von Humboldt. Professor
Jarocki has received an invitation as a zoologist, and ex-student
and doctor of the Berlin University. Something magnificent is
anticipated, and it is reported that Spontini will give a
performance of his “Cortez.”
Jarockiʼs friend and teacher, Lichtenstein, officiates as secretary
to the Congress: he is a member of the Academy of Singing, and
is on a friendly footing with the director, Herr Zelter. I learn
from a good authority in Berlin that I shall have an opportunity,
through Lichtenstein, of becoming acquainted with all the best
musicians in the Prussian capital, except Spontini, with whom he is
not on good terms.
I shall be much pleased to meet the Prussian Prince Radziwill, who
is a friend of Spontini. I only intend spending a fortnight with
Jarocki, but this will give me an opportunity of, at any rate,
hearing a good opera once, and so having an idea of a perfect
performance, which is worth a good deal of trouble.
At Strzyzewo I arranged my last Rondo in C major, for two
pianos.[13]
To-day I tried it with Ernemann, at Bucholtzʼs,[14] and it came out
pretty well. We intend to play it some day at the “Ressource.”
As to new compositions I have nothing besides the still unfinished
Trio (G minor) which I began after your departure. The first
_Allegro_ I have already tried with accompaniments.
It seems to me that this Trio will meet the same fate as the
Sonata and Variations. Both are already in Vienna; the former
I have dedicated to Elsner, as his pupil; to the latter I
have—perhaps somewhat presumptuously—affixed your name. I acted on
the impulse of affection, and I am sure you will not misconstrue
my motives. Skarbek has not yet returned, Jedrzejewicz will remain
some time longer in Paris.[15] He was there introduced to the
pianist Sowinski,[16] who wrote to me to say that he should like to
make my acquaintance, by correspondence, before he comes to Warsaw.
As he is assistant editor of Fétisʼs _Revue Musicale_, he would be
glad to be informed about musical affairs in Poland, or to receive
biographies of the foremost Polish composers and artists—matters
in which I have not the least intention of being mixed up, so I
shall reply to him from Berlin that what he wants is not at all
in my line, and that I do not feel competent to write for a Paris
journal, requiring able and matured criticism.
At the end of this month I shall leave Berlin, a five daysʼ journey
by diligence!
Everything here is just the same as ever; the excellent Zywny is
the heart and soul of all our parties.
I must conclude, for my luggage is already packed and sent to the
diligence.
I kiss your motherʼs feet and hands. My parents and sisters send
kind regards and sincerest wishes for the improvement of her health.
Take pity on me, and write soon, however briefly. I shall value a
single line.
Yours,
FREDERIC.
[Sidenote: FIRST LETTER FROM BERLIN TO HIS PARENTS.]
_Berlin, Tuesday._[17]
MY DEARLY BELOVED PARENTS AND SISTERS,
We arrived safely in this great city about 3 oʼclock on Sunday
afternoon, and went direct from the post to the hotel “Zum
Kronprinz,” where we are now. It is a good and comfortable
house. The day we arrived Professor Jarocki took me to Herr
Lichtensteinʼs, where I met Alex. von Humboldt. He is not above
the middle height, and his features cannot be called handsome,
but the prominent, broad brow, and the deep penetrating glance
reveal the searching intellect of the scholar, who is as great a
philanthropist as he is a traveller. He speaks French like his
mother tongue; even you would have said so, dear Father.
Herr Lichtenstein promised to introduce me to the first musicians
here; and regretted that we had not arrived a few days sooner to
have heard his daughter perform at a _matinée_, last Sunday, with
orchestral accompaniments.
I, for my part, felt but little disappointment, but, whether
rightly or wrongly, I know not, for I have neither seen nor heard
the young lady. The day we arrived there was a performance of “The
Interrupted Sacrifice,”[18] but our visit to Herr Lichtenstein
prevented me from being present.
Yesterday the savants had a grand dinner; Herr von Humboldt did
not occupy the chair, but a very different looking person, whose
name I cannot at this moment recall. However, as he is, no doubt,
some celebrity, I have written his name under my portrait of him.
(I could not refrain from making some caricatures, which I have
already classified.) The dinner lasted so long that there was
not time for me to hear Birnbach, the much-praised violinist of
nine years. To-day I shall dine alone, having made my excuses to
Professor Jarocki, who readily perceived that, to a musician, the
performance of such a work as Spontiniʼs “Ferdinand Cortez,” must
be more interesting than an interminable dinner among philosophers.
Now I am quite alone, and enjoying a chat with you, my dear ones.
There is a rumour that the great Paginini is coming here. I only
hope it is true. Prince Radziwill is expected on the 20th of this
month. It will be a great pleasure to me if he comes. I have, as
yet, seen nothing but the Zoological Cabinet, but I know the city
pretty well, for I wandered among the beautiful streets and bridges
for two whole days. You shall have a verbal description of these,
as, also, of the large and decidedly beautiful castle. [Sidenote:
CONSIDERS BERLIN A STRAGGLING CITY.] The chief impression Berlin
makes upon me is that of a straggling city which could, I think,
contain double its present large population. We wanted to have
stayed in the French street, but I am very glad we did not, for it
is as broad as our Lezno,[19] and needs ten times as many people as
are in it to take off its desolate appearance.
To-day will be my first experience of the music of Berlin. Do not
think me one-sided, dearest Papa, for saying that I would much
rather have spent the morning at Schlesingerʼs than in labouring
through the thirteen rooms of the Zoological Museum, but I came
here for the sake of my musical education, and Schlesingerʼs
library, containing, as it does, the most important musical works
of every age and country, is, of course, of more interest to me
than any other collection. I console myself with the thought that
I shall not miss Schlesingerʼs, and that a young man ought to see
all he can, as there is something to be learnt everywhere. This
morning I went to Kistingʼs pianoforte manufactory, at the end of
the long Frederic Street, but as there was not a single instrument
completed, I had my long walk in vain. Fortunately for me there is
a good grand piano in our hotel, which I play on every day, both to
my own and the landlordʼs gratification.
The Prussian diligences are most uncomfortable, so the journey
was less agreeable than I had anticipated; however, I reached
the capital of the Hohenzollerns in good health and spirits. Our
travelling companions were a German lawyer, living at Posen, who
tried to distinguish himself by making coarse jokes; and a very fat
farmer, with a smattering of politeness acquired by travelling.
At the last stage before Frankfort-on-the-Oder, a German Sappho
entered the diligence and poured forth a torrent of ridiculous,
egotistical complaints. Quite unwittingly, the good lady amused
me immensely, for it was as good as a comedy, when she began to
argue with the lawyer, who, instead of laughing at her, seriously
controverted everything she said.
The suburbs of Berlin, on the side by which we approached are not
pretty, but the scrupulous cleanliness and order which everywhere
prevail are very pleasing to the eye. To-morrow I shall visit the
suburbs on the other side.
The Congress will commence its sittings the day after to-morrow,
and Herr Lichtenstein has promised me a ticket. In the evening
Alex. von Humboldt will receive the members at his house: Professor
Jarocki offered to procure me an invitation, but I thanked him and
said I should gain little, if any, intellectual advantage from
such a gathering, for which I was not learned enough; besides the
professional gentlemen might cast questioning glances at a layman
like me, and ask, “Is Saul then among the prophets?” I fancied,
even at the dinner, that my neighbour, Professor Lehmann, a
celebrated botanist from Hamburg, looked at me rather curiously.
I was astonished at the strength of his small fist; he broke with
ease the large piece of white bread, to divide which I was fain
to use both hands and a knife. He leaned over the table to talk
to Professor Jarocki, and in the excitement of the conversation
mistook his own plate and began to drum upon mine. [Sidenote: “A
REAL SAVANT.”] A real _savant_, was he not? with the great ungainly
nose, too. All this time I was on thorns, and as soon as he had
finished with my plate, I wiped off the marks of his fingers with
my serviette as fast as possible.
Marylski cannot have an atom of taste if he thinks the Berlin
ladies dress well; their clothes are handsome, no doubt, but alas
for the beautiful stuffs cut up for such puppets!
Your ever fondly loving,
FREDERIC.
* * * * *
_Berlin, September 20th, 1828._
I am well and happy, dear Parents and Sisters. As if on purpose
to honour me, a fresh piece is brought out at the theatre every
day. First I heard an oratorio at the Academy of Singing; then
at the Opera, “Ferdinand Cortez,” “Il Matrimonio Segreto,”
and Onslowʼs[20] “Der Hausirer.” I greatly enjoyed all these
performances, but I must confess that I was quite carried away by
Handelʼs “Ode on St. Ceciliaʼs Day;” this most nearly approaches
my ideal of sublime music. With the exception of Signora Tibaldi
(alto), and Fräulein von Schätzel, whom I heard in “Der Hausirer,”
and at the Academy of Singing, all the best singers are away.
Fräulein von Schätzel pleased me best in the Oratorio, but it may
have been that I was in a better mood that evening for listening.
The Oratorio, however, was not without a “but,” which, perhaps,
will only be got rid of in Paris.
I have not called on Herr Lichtenstein yet, for he is so busy
with preparations for the Congress, that even Professor Jarocki
can scarcely get a word with him, but he has kindly procured
me a ticket of admission. I was in such a capital place that I
could see and hear everything, and was quite close to the Crown
Prince. Spontini, Zelter, and Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy were also
there; but I did not speak to any of them, as I did not think it
proper to introduce myself. It is said that Prince Radziwill will
come to-day; I shall find out after breakfast if this is really
true.
[Sidenote: BARON VON HUMBOLDT.]
At the Singing Academy I observed the handsome Princess von
Liegnitz, talking to a man in a kind of livery, whose face I could
not clearly see. I asked my neighbour if he were a Royal valet de
chambre, and received for a reply, “Aye, that is His Excellency
Baron von Humboldt.” You may imagine, my dear ones, how thankful I
was that I had only uttered my question in a whisper; but I assure
you that the chamberlainʼs uniform changes even the countenance,
or I could not have failed to recognise the great traveller, who
has ascended the mighty Chimborazo. Yesterday he was present at
the performance of “Der Hausirer,” or, as the French call it, “Le
Colporteur.” In the Royal box sat Prince Charles.
The day before yesterday we visited the Royal library, which is
very large, but does not contain many musical works. I was much
interested in seeing an autograph letter of Kosciuskoʼs, which his
biographer, Falkenstein, immediately copied, letter by letter. When
he saw that we were Poles, and could, therefore, read the letter
without any trouble, he begged Professor Jarocki to translate
it into German, while he wrote it down in his pocket book.
Falkenstein, an agreeable young man, is secretary to the Dresden
Library. I met, also, the editor of the _Berlin Musical Gazette_;
we were introduced, and exchanged a few words. To-morrow will see
the fulfilment of one of my most earnest wishes: “Der Freischutz”
is to be performed. I shall then be able to compare our singers
with the singers here. To-day I am invited to the grand dinner at
the drill house. The number of caricatures increases.
Yours ever lovingly,
FREDERIC.
* * * * *
_Berlin, Saturday, September 27th, 1828._
I am quite well, and have seen all that is to be seen. I shall soon
be with you again. In a week, from the day after to-morrow, we
shall embrace. Lounging about agrees with me capitally. Yesterday
“The Interrupted Sacrifice” was performed again, and Fräulein von
Schätzel omitted more than one chromatic scale. I quite fancied
myself in your midst.[21] This “your” reminds me of a Berlin
caricature.[22] A Napoleon grenadier stands as a sentinel; he
calls out, “qui vive,” to a woman passing. She is about to reply,
“die Wäscherin” (the laundress), but wishing to express herself in
a more refined [Sidenote: DINING WITH THE NATURALISTS.] manner, she
says, “la vache” (the cow.) I count among the great events of my
visit here the second dinner with the naturalists, which took place
the day before the conclusion of the Congress, and was really very
lively and entertaining. Several very fair convivial songs were
sung, in which all the company joined more or less heartily. Zelter
conducted, and a large golden cup, standing on a red pedestal, in
front of him, as a sign of his exalted musical merits, appeared to
give him much satisfaction. The dishes were better that day than
usual, they say, “because the naturalists have been principally
occupied during their sittings with the improvement of meats,
sauces, soups, &c.” They make fun of these learned gentlemen in
like manner at the Königstadt Theatre. In a play, in which some
beer is drunk, one asks, “Why is beer so good now in Berlin?” “Why,
because the naturalists are holding their conference,” is the
answer.
But it is time to go to bed, as we start off quite early to-morrow.
We shall spend two days at Posen, on account of an invitation from
the Archbishop Wolicki. Oh, how much I shall have to tell you, my
dearests, and how glad I shall be to see you again.
Your warmly affectionate
FREDERIC.
Professor Jarocki and Chopin had, as companions, on their return from
Berlin, two gentlemen, whose wearisome talk about politics, in which
Chopin never took any interest, and still more their incessant smoking,
(almost unendurable to Chopin) made them very disagreeable. When one of
the gentlemen announced that he should smoke till he went to sleep, and
would rather die than give up his pipe, Frederic and the Professor went
outside the diligence to enjoy the fresh air.
At the little town of Züllichau, finding they had an hour to wait for
horses, Professor Jarocki proposed a walk through the place. This did
not take long, and as the horses were not ready when they returned, the
Professor sat down to a meal—the post-house being also a restaurant—but
Frederic, as if drawn by a magnet, went into the next room, and saw—oh,
wonder of wonders!—a grand piano. Professor Jarocki, who could see
through the open door, laughed to himself when his young friend opened
the instrument, which had a very unpromising exterior; Chopin also
looked at it with some misgivings; but when he had struck a few chords
he exclaimed, in joyful surprise, “O Santa Cæcilia, the piano is in
tune.”
Only the impassioned musician knows what it is, after sitting for
several days in a diligence, suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, to have
an opportunity of playing on a good instrument.
[Sidenote: PLAYING AT A POST-HOUSE.]
Regardless of his surroundings our artist began to improvise _con
amore_. Attracted by the music, one of the travellers got up and stood
behind the playerʼs chair. Chopin called out to Professor Jarocki, in
Polish, “Now we shall see whether my listener be a connoisseur or not.”
Frederic began his Fantasia on Polish Songs (op. 13); the traveller,
a German, stood like one petrified, captivated by this music, so new
and bewitching; his eyes mechanically followed every movement of the
pianistʼs delicate hand; he had forgotten everything, even his beloved
pipe, which went out unheeded. The other travellers stepped in softly,
and at the same time the tall postmaster and his buxom wife appeared at
the side door with their two pretty daughters behind them. Frederic,
unmindful of his audience, and absorbed in converse with his muse, had
lost all thought of where he was, and that he must soon be on his way.
More and more tender and graceful became his playing; the fairies
seemed to be singing their moon-light melodies; everyone was listening
in rapt attention to the elegant arabesques sparkling from his fingers,
when a stentorian voice, which made the windows rattle, called out,
“The horses are ready, gentlemen.”
“Confounded disturber,” roared the postmaster, while the triplet of
ladies cast angry glances at the postilion. Chopin sprang from his
seat, but was immediately surrounded by his audience, who exclaimed
with one voice: “Go on, dear sir, finish that glorious piece, which
we should have heard all through but for that tiresome man.” “But,”
replied Chopin, consulting his watch, “we have already been here some
hours, and are due in Posen shortly.”
“Stay and play, noble young artist,” cried the postmaster, “I will give
you couriersʼ horses if you will only remain a little longer.”
“Do be persuaded,” began the postmasterʼs wife, almost threatening
him with an embrace. What could Frederic do but sit down again to the
instrument?
When he paused the servant appeared with wine and glasses; the
daughters of the host served the artist first, then the other
travellers, while the postmaster gave a cheer for the “darling
Polyhymnias,” as he expressed it, in which all united. One of the
company (probably the town cantor) went close up to Chopin and said,
in a voice trembling with emotion, “Sir, I am an old and thoroughly
trained musician; I, too, play the piano, and so know how to appreciate
your masterly performance; if Mozart had heard it he would have grasped
your hand and cried, ‘Bravo.’ An insignificant old man like myself
cannot dare to do so.”
The women, in their gratitude, filled the pockets of the carriage with
the best eatables that the house contained, not forgetting some good
wine. The postmaster exclaimed, with tears of joy, “As long as I live I
shall think, with enthusiasm, of Frederic Chopin.”
[Sidenote: CARRIED TO HIS CARRIAGE.]
When, after playing one more Mazurka, Frederic prepared to go, his
gigantic host seized him in his arms, and carried him to the carriage.
The postilion, still sulky over his scolding, and jealous because
the pretty servant girl could not take her eyes off the interesting
_virtuoso_, whispered to her, “Things often go very unfairly in the
world. The young gentleman is carried into the carriage by the master
himself; the like of us must climb laboriously on to the box by
ourselves, though we are musical.”
Long years afterwards Chopin would recall this episode with pleasure.
It was like a good omen to him at the commencement of his artistic
career. He often related how, like the old minstrels who went from town
to town with their harps and received good cheer as their honorarium,
he had played at Züllichau for cakes, fruit, and good wine; and assured
his most intimate friends that the highest praise lavished on him by
the press had never given him more pleasure than the naïve homage of
the German who, in his eagerness to hear, let his pipe go out.
At Posen our travellers visited, by invitation, the Archbishop Wolicki,
and paid their respects to Prince A. Radziwill. They both met with
the kindest reception from the Prince, who knew how to esteem such a
learned man as Jarocki, but, being a musician to the backbone, he was
better able to appreciate the eminent talents of Chopin; he regarded
him as a kindred spirit, whose superiority he gladly recognized. Most
of the day was devoted to music; the sonatas of Mozart, Beethoven,
and Hummel were performed by Chopin and the bandmaster, Klinghor. But
Frederic called forth most admiration by his incomparable improvisation.
As soon as they had left Posen, Fredericʼs ardent yearning to see his
family impelled him to his fatherʼs house, and his love of art summoned
him back to his studies. The last miles seemed endless, and, yielding
to his pressing request, the Professor decided to take post horses at
Lowicz.
On October 6th Frederic reached at length his much desired goal. His
eyes, sparkling with pleasure, rested on the towers of Warsaw, the
nimble horses flew along the street, the coach stopped at the door,
there were loud cries of joy, and the dear returning one was in the
loving arms of his parents and sisters.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER V.
_JOURNEY TO VIENNA, PRAGUE, TEPLITZ, DRESDEN. CHOPINʼS
PERFORMANCE AT TWO CONCERTS IN VIENNA._
Frederic studied with indefatigable zeal from one yearʼs end to
another; neither father nor teacher had ever been obliged to incite
him to diligence, for even as a mere boy he had always shown a great
desire for knowledge. But when the time approached for him to pass his
final musical examination before a small critical circle, he worked
almost beyond his strength. His anxious father, therefore, resolved to
send him on another journey, having made the happy discovery that his
Frederic had learned a great deal in Berlin.[23]
This time (July, 1829) our artist was to go to Vienna with some young
friends, and he was highly delighted at the prospect, although his
father and all his friends urged him to appear publicly as a pianist in
that musical city.
With the innate modesty which never left him even after his greatest
triumphs, he exclaimed, “Here I have been leniently judged by
kind-hearted compatriots; but what am I to expect in a city which can
boast of having heard a Haydn, a Mozart, and a Beethoven?”
A few months before this journey Frederic had become acquainted with
Hummel, who had stayed some time in Warsaw, and given concerts there.
Hummel[24] had acquired, by his very successful tour, the reputation
of being the greatest living pianist. Chopin was acquainted with his
compositions, and thought very highly of them. He greatly admired his
classical style of playing, formed on the best models; yet, exacting
as the young artist was towards himself, he could say, without vanity,
that, in technical execution, he was not very inferior to the older
master.
Fredericʼs chief desire was to become acquainted with the beautiful,
musical Vienna, to hear all he could that was new to him, and, if
possible, to have intercourse with the masters of his art. He never
dreamt that the latter, dazzled by his extraordinary genius, would be
the very people who would press him to appear in public.
With a heart full of hope for himself and fervent blessings for his
family, Chopin, in company with his friends Celinski, Hube, and Franz
Maciejowski (the last named a nephew of the famous investigator of
Slavonic law), left his beloved Warsaw.
After visiting Cracow, the old capital of the Piasts and the Jagellons
and Ojcow, the so-called Polish Switzerland, the travellers arrived on
July 31st at Vienna.
[Sidenote: FIRST LETTER FROM VIENNA.]
The following is a faithful transcription of the letters Chopin wrote
from that city:—
_Vienna, August 1st, 1829._
MY DEARLY LOVED PARENTS AND SISTERS,
We arrived here yesterday well and in good spirits, and I may say
without fatigue, and so without discomfort. We took a private
carriage at Cracow, in which we were very comfortable. We were able
to enjoy to perfection the picturesque scenery of Galicia, Upper
Silesia, and Moravia, for the clouds had been amiable enough to lay
the dust with a slight shower.
But before I speak of Vienna I must tell you about our journey to
Ojcow. On Sunday afternoon we hired a four-horse country waggon,
such as they use at Cracow, which cost us four thalers. We dashed
merrily and swiftly along to Ojcow, intending to put up at Herr
Indykʼs house, which all tourists praise, and where Fräulein
Tanska[25] stayed. But, as ill-luck would have it, Herr Indyk lived
a full mile outside the town; our coachman did not know the way,
and drove us into a little brook, as clear and silvery as those
in the fairy tales. Right and left were walls of rock, and we did
not find our way out of the labyrinth till nearly 9 oʼclock, when
two passing peasants good naturedly conducted us to Herr Indykʼs.
Wearied and wet through, we at length reached the wished for house,
and were very kindly received. Although not expecting visitors
at so late an hour, Herr Indyk made no trouble about giving us a
room in the little house, built on purpose for tourists. Sister
Isabella[26] Fräulein Tanska had been in it only a little while
before.
My companions changed their clothes and gathered round the stove,
in which our host had, meanwhile, lighted a fire. Wet above the
knees, I crouched in a corner, considering what I had best do.
Seeing the mistress go into the next room for linen for our beds,
I instinctively followed her, and finding on the table a pile of
woollen Cracow caps (they are double woven), I bought one, tore it
in half, wrapped my [Sidenote: CHARMED WITH CRACOW.] feet in it,
sat before the fire and drank a small glass of red wine. I thus
escaped a severe cold. We laughed and talked a little while over
our adventure, then went to bed and slept soundly.
Frederic, who had a sharp eye and a keen ear for all around him, goes
on to describe the neighbourhood of Ojcow, the strangely-formed sand
rocks, the black grotto, and the Kingʼs grotto, in which tradition
says, that King Lokietek[27] took refuge from his enemies, at the end
of the 13th century. Frederic was very enthusiastic over everything
he saw, but Cracow and the neighbourhood appear to have had a special
charm for him. He gives an account, also, of the Vienna picture
gallery, to which he had at first only paid a flying visit. We give,
unabridged, the following letters to his family:—
_Vienna, August 8th, 1829._
I am well and in good spirits. Why, I do not know, but the people
here are astonished at me, and I wonder at them for finding
anything to wonder at in me. I am indebted to good Elsnerʼs letter
of recommendation for my exceedingly friendly reception by Herr
Haslinger. He did not know how to make me sufficiently welcome;
he showed me all the musical novelties he had, made his son play
to me, and apologized for not introducing his wife, who had just
gone out. In spite of all his politeness he has not yet printed
my compositions. I did not ask him about them, but he said, when
showing me one of his finest editions, that my Variations were to
appear, next week, in the same style, in _Odeon_. This I certainly
had not expected.[28] He strongly advised me to play in public,
although it is summer, and, therefore, not a favourable time for
concerts.
[Sidenote: PRESSED BY FRIENDS TO PERFORM.]
The artists and lovers of music, who know that I am here, consider
that Vienna would lose a great deal if I left without giving a
concert. I do not know what to make of it all; Schuppanzigh, to
whom I have letters of recommendation, informs me that although his
quartet parties are over, he will try to get a gathering before I
leave. I have only been once to Herr Hussarzewski; he was quite
enthusiastic about my playing, and invited me to dinner. Several
Viennese gentlemen were present, and all, without exception, as if
by previous concert, recommended me to perform in public.
Stein offered to send me one of his instruments, and begged me to
play on it at my concert; Graff, whose pianos I prefer, has made
the same proposal.
Würfel[29] says that if you have composed anything new, and want it
to create a sensation, you must, by all means, play it yourself.
Herr Blahetka, a journalist, whom I met at Haslingerʼs, also
advised me to give a concert. My Variations have been much praised
by those who have heard them.
I have also made the acquaintance of Count Gallenberg, who is
manager of a theatre, where I have heard some second-rate concerts.
Haslinger thinks that the Viennese should hear me play my own
compositions. Everybody assures me that the newspapers will be sure
to give me a flattering notice. Würfel is of opinion that, as my
compositions are to appear now, it would be advisable for me to
give a concert, otherwise I should have to come again, but that
the present would be the best time, as the Viennese are longing
for something new. He calls it unpardonable in a young musician
to neglect such an opportunity; I ought to appear in the twofold
capacity of pianist and composer, and must not think too modestly
of myself. He wishes me to play the Variations first, then the
Rondo Cracovienne, and, in conclusion, to improvise.
I do not know yet how it will all be arranged. Stein is very
kind and amiable, but I should prefer to use one of Graffʼs
instruments. Haslinger, Blahetka and Würfel approve my choice.
Wherever I show myself, I am besieged with requests to play. I have
no lack of acquaintances in the musical world, and Haslinger is
going to introduce me to Charles Czerny. Up till now I have heard
three operas, “La Dame Blanche,” “Cenerentola,” and Meyerbeerʼs
“Crociato.” Orchestra and chorus were excellent. To-day “Joseph in
Egypt” is to be performed. I have twice listened, with admiration,
to Maysederʼs solos at the Academy of Music.
Vienna is handsome, lively, and pleases me exceedingly. They are
trying to persuade me to spend the winter here. Würfel has just
come in to take me to Haslingerʼs.
P.S.—I have made up my mind. Blahetka thinks I shall make a
_furore_, for, as he puts it, I am “an artist of the first rank
and worthy to be placed beside Moscheles, Herz, and Kalkbrenner.”
Würfel is really very kind, and has introduced me to Count
Gallenberg; the bandmaster, Seyfried, and others of his influential
acquaintances, and those who are interested in music. [Sidenote:
ARRANGEMENTS FOR A CONCERT.] He declares I shall not leave Vienna
till I have given a concert. Count Gallenberg is very pleased with
this, as I shall play at his theatre, and—as my principal object
now is to win laurels—without payment. The journalists stare at me
already; the members of the orchestra salute me quite obsequiously
when I walk in, arm in arm, with the director of the Italian opera
(which is now closed.)
Würfel has taken no end of trouble on my behalf, and will be
present at the rehearsal. He was very kind to me at Warsaw, and
I am particularly glad that he has such a pleasant recollection
of Elsner. People here are surprised that Kessler, Ernemann, and
Czapeck should live in Warsaw with me there too, but I tell them
that I give no lessons and only play from love of art. I have
decided on Graffʼs instrument, but I do not want to offend Stein,
so I shall thank him with such an expression of obligation that he
cannot but forgive me.
I hope for Godʼs gracious help. Do not be anxious, my dearest ones.
Your fondly loving
FREDERIC.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: FIRST CONCERT IN VIENNA.]
_Vienna, Wednesday, August 12th, 1829._
You know of my intention, my beloved ones, from my last letter.
Yesterday (Tuesday) at 7 oʼclock in the evening, I appeared before
a Viennese public for the first time, at the Imperial Opera House.
Here, an evening concert in the theatre is called a musical
academy. As I played gratuitously, Count Gallenberg expedited the
arrangements for my appearance.
The following was the programme:
Overture, by Beethoven
My Variations.
Song, by Fräulein Veltheim.[30]
My Cracovienne.
A Ballet, in conclusion.
The orchestra accompanied so badly at the rehearsal that I was
obliged to substitute a “Free Fantasia” for the Rondo.
[Sidenote: ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION.]
Directly I appeared I was greeted with cries of “Bravo,” and,
after each variation, the audience shouted this welcome word so
lustily that I could not hear the _tutti_ of the orchestra. I had
such a hearty recall, that I was obliged to come forward twice
to bow my acknowledgments. I must confess that I was not quite
satisfied myself with the free fantasia; but the public must have
been pleased, for I was overwhelmed with applause. One reason for
this may have been that the Germans know how to appreciate free
improvisation. I am now doubly obliged to Würfel, for without his
support and encouragement I should never have accomplished the
daring stroke which has succeeded so well. I shall be able to
relate my experiences and impressions by word of mouth better than
I can now. I was not hissed, so donʼt be uneasy about my artistic
reputation. The newspapers have been very favourable to me;
if some of them should pick holes in me I am prepared for it.
My compositions have received Count Gallenbergʼs undivided
approbation. The theatrical manager, Herr Demar, was very kind and
pleasant; he did his best to encourage me before I appeared, so I
went to my piano without much anxiety.
My friends were scattered about that they might hear the
observations of the critics, and the various opinions of the
public. Celinski can tell you that he heard nothing unfavourable.
Hube reports the most severe criticism, and that, too, from a lady:
“A pity the youth has so little presence.” If this is the only sort
of blame I am to receive I cannot complain. My friends swear they
heard nothing but praise, and that, until the spontaneous outburst
of applause, not one of them had clapped or uttered a bravo. The
manager was so pleased with my Rondo that he came up after the
concert, shook hands with me, and made some very flattering remarks.
I improvised from “La Dame Blanche,” and, that I might have a
Polish theme, chose “Chmiel.”[31] The public, to whom this kind of
national melody is quite unknown, seemed electrified. My spies in
the pit say the people began a regular dance on the benches.
Wertheim, although only arriving yesterday with his wife from
Carlsbad, went to the theatre; he could not imagine how I came to
play there. He was here just now to congratulate me on my good
success. At Carlsbad he saw Hummel who remembered me very kindly.
He writes to him to-day, and will inform him of my performance.
Haslinger is to print my works; I have kept the programme of
the concert. It was most interesting to me to become personally
acquainted with Gyrowetz, Lachner, Kreutzer, and Seyfried; with
Mayseder I have had a very long conversation. There is an almost
unanimous opinion that I play too softly, or rather, too delicately
for the public here. That is to say, they are accustomed to the
drum beating of their own Piano _virtuosi_. I am afraid the
newspapers will say the same thing, especially as the daughter of
one of the editors drums dreadfully; but never mind, if it is to
be so, I would much rather they said I played too gently than too
roughly.
Count Dietrichstein, one of the personages nearest to the Emperor,
came on to the stage yesterday, and had a long talk with me in
French, complimented me and requested me to stay longer in Vienna.
The Orchestra execrated my badly written score, and were not at all
favourable to me up to the moment of my improvisation; then, in
concert with the public, they applauded heartily, which showed
their good opinion of me. I do not know yet what the other artists
think; but why should they especially be against me? They see that
I do not play for pecuniary advantage.
So my first performance, unexpected as it was, has passed off
successfully. Hube thinks that one never succeeds in anything by
ordinary means and according to preconceived plans, but must trust
somewhat to chance. So I trusted to my good fortune and allowed
myself to be persuaded to give the concert. If the newspapers cut
me up so much that I shall not venture before the world again, I
have resolved to become a house painter; that would be as easy as
anything else, and I should, at any rate, still be an artist!
I am curious to hear what Herr Elsner will say to all this. Perhaps
he disapproves of my playing at all? But I was so besieged on all
sides that I had no escape, and I do not seem to have committed a
blunder by my performance.
Nidecki[32] was particularly friendly to me yesterday; he looked
through and corrected the orchestral parts, and was sincerely
pleased at the applause I received. I played on one of Graffʼs
pianos. I am at least four years wiser and more experienced.
You must, indeed, have wondered at my sealing my last letter with a
strange seal. I was absent-minded and took the first and best that
came to hand.[33]
Adieu,
Your fondly loving
FREDERIC.
* * * * *
_Thursday, August 13th, 1829._
If ever I longed to be with you I do so now.
To-day I have become acquainted with Count Lichnowski. He did not
know how to praise me enough, he was so delighted with my playing.
Würfel took me to him. He was Beethovenʼs best friend, to whom the
great master was much indebted.
[Sidenote: PROPOSALS FOR A SECOND CONCERT.]
Everyone says that I have especially pleased the _noblesse_ here.
The Schwarzenbergʼs, Wrbnaʼs, and others were quite enthusiastic
about the delicacy and elegance of my execution; in proof of this
take Count Dietrichsteinʼs coming on the stage to me. Countess
Lichnowski and her daughter, with whom I drank tea to-day, are
quite delighted that I am going to give a second concert on
Tuesday. They invited me to visit them if I passed through Vienna,
on my way to Paris, then they wished to give me a letter to a
certain Countess, sister to Count Lichnowski. A great deal too much
kindness. Czerny, Schuppanzigh, and Gyrowtez have also paid me many
compliments.
To-day a stranger looked at me in the ante-room, and, asking
Celinski if I was Chopin, rushed up to me. He spoke of the
pleasure he should have in becoming acquainted with such an
artist, and said, “You really delighted and enchanted me the day
before yesterday.” It was the same gentleman who had sat beside
Maciejowski and seemed so delighted with my improvisation on
“Chmiel.”
Under no circumstances will I give a third concert; I only give
a second because I am forced to, and I thought that people might
say in Warsaw, “He only gave _one_ concert in Vienna, probably
he was not much liked.” To-day I was at the house of one of the
newspaper critics, who is very well disposed towards me, and is
sure to write a favourable critique. I cannot tell you how kind
and pleasant Würfel is. I shall play gratuitously the second time
also, for the sake of obliging Gallenberg, whose finances are not
very flourishing. (But this is a secret.) I shall play the Rondo,
and then improvise. For the rest, I am in good health, and eat
and drink well. Vienna pleases me much, and I am not without the
society of my countrymen; there is one in the ballet, who took
charge of me at my _débût_, and brought me _eau sucrée_.
Please relate all I write to Elsner, and beg him to pardon me for
not writing to him, but my time is really so filled up that I have
not a moment to spare. I wish to thank M. Skarbek, who was one
of the foremost in persuading me to give a concert; and this is,
indeed, the artistʼs first step in life.
Your ever affectionate
FREDERIC.
* * * * *
_Vienna, August 19th, 1829._
If on the first occasion the public were favourable, my reception,
yesterday, was still more hearty. I was greeted, when I came on
to the stage with three long rounds of applause. The financial
manager—whose name I cannot remember—thanked me for the receipts,
and said that the house could not have been so full on account of
the ballet, for that had been given several times.
The profession praise my Rondo, one and all, from the bandmaster,
Lachner, to the piano-tuner. I know I have pleased the ladies and
the musicians. Gyrowetz, who sat next Celinski, called, “Bravo,”
and made a tremendous noise. The only people not satisfied were
the out-and-out Germans. Yesterday, one of them, who had just
come from the theatre, sat down to eat at the table I was sitting
at. His acquaintances asked him how he liked the performance. “The
ballet is pretty,” was his answer. “But the concert, what of that?”
they asked. Instead of replying he began to talk of something else,
from which I conclude that he recognized me, although my back was
towards him. I felt bound to relieve him from the restraint of my
presence, and went to bed, saying to myself, “The man has not been
born yet who does everything right.”[34]
[Sidenote: POPULARITY IN VIENNA.]
I am glad to be able to say that my popularity increases. As I
depart at 9 oʼclock this evening, I must spend all the forenoon
in farewell visits. Schuppanzigh said, yesterday, that as I was
leaving Vienna so quickly, I must come again soon. I answered that
I should gladly return for the sake of further improving myself,
to which the Baron replied, “that for such a reason I should never
need to come, for I had nothing more to learn.” This opinion was
confirmed by the others. These are, indeed, mere compliments, but
one does not listen to them unwillingly. For the future I shall at
any rate not be regarded as a student.
Blahetka tells me that what he most wonders at is that I could
learn it all in Warsaw. I answered that the greatest donkey must
learn something with Messrs. Zwyny and Elsner.
It is very unfortunate for me that I cannot confirm what I have
told you by sending you the opinions in the press. I know that the
critique is in the hands of the Editor of the paper to which I have
subscribed, and which Bäuerle[35] will send to Warsaw. I expect
they waited for my second performance before giving a notice. This
paper comes out twice a week, Tuesdays and Saturdays, possibly
therefore you may read what is favourable or the contrary about me
before I do.
I have on my side the learned, and those who have poetic
temperaments. We shall have a great deal to talk over. I would have
written of something quite different, but my head is so full of
yesterday that it is quite impossible to collect my thoughts. My
finances are still in the best order.
I have just paid my farewell visit to Schuppanzigh and Czerny.
Czerny was warmer than any of his compositions. I have packed up,
but must go again to Haslingerʼs, and then to the café opposite the
theatre, where I am to meet Gyrowetz, Lachner, Kreutzer, Seyfried,
and others. In two nights and a day we shall be at Prague; the
mail coach goes at nine. It will be an agreeable journey with such
pleasant companions.
Your FREDERIC.
* * * * *
_Prague, Saturday, August 22nd, 1829._
[Sidenote: DEPARTURE FROM VIENNA.]
After an affecting parting, which indeed it was, for Fräulein
Blahetka[36] gave me as a souvenir, a copy of her compositions,
with her autograph, and united with her father in sending warmest
regards to you my good Papa, and to you my dear Mamma, with
congratulations to you both on having such a son; young Stein
wept, and Schuppanzigh, Gyrowetz, in short all the artists were
deeply moved: after this tender farewell, and giving a promise of
returning soon, I got into the diligence. Nidecki and two other
Poles, who were to start for Trieste in half an hour, accompanied
us a little way. One of them, Niegolewski by name, comes from Great
Poland, and is travelling with his tutor, or rather, companion,
a student from the Warsaw University; we had met and conversed
several times in Vienna.
Countess Hussarzweska (she and her husband are both excellent
people) wanted to keep me to dinner when I paid my farewell visit,
but I had not time to stay, having to go to Haslingerʼs. After
many hearty wishes for a speedy meeting, Haslinger promised,
most solemnly, to bring out my variations in five weeks, that he
may have something new to offer the musical world in the autumn.
Although a stranger to you, my dear Father, he wished to be kindly
remembered.
When we were taking our places in the coach, a young German got
in, and, as we were to sit together for two nights and a day,
we scraped an acquaintance. He was a merchant from Danzig, knew
Pruszaka, Sierakowski, of Waplew, Jaurek, Ernemann, Gresser, and
others. He was in Warsaw two years ago, and had now just come from
Paris. His name is Normann. He was a very agreeable gentleman and
a capital travelling companion. We are in the same hotel with him,
and have resolved, when we have seen Prague, to go on together to
Teplitz and Dresden. It would be inexcusable to miss seeing Dresden
when we are so near, especially as our finances will permit of
it, and the journey for four persons is easily managed, and not
expensive.
After a good shaking in the coach, we reached Prague at noon,
yesterday, and went at once to _table-dʼhôte_. Then we called
upon Hanka,[37] to whom Maciejowski had a letter of introduction;
I regretted afterwards that I had not asked Skarbek to furnish me
with one to this famous savant. As we had stayed some time at the
Cathedral and Castle we did not find Hanka at home.
The town, viewed from the castle hill, is large and old-fashioned,
but handsome in the general; formerly it was an important place.[38]