Frederick Chopin as a Man and Musician

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Is it possible to imagine anything more inconsistent and self-
delusive than these ravings of our friend? Farther on in this
very lengthy epistle we come first of all once more to the
pending question.

I was to start with the Cracow post for Vienna as early as
this day week, but finally I have given up that idea--you
will understand why. You may be quite sure that I am no
egoist, but, as I love you, am also willing to sacrifice
anything for the sake of others. For the sake of others, I
say, but not for the sake of outward appearance. For public
opinion, which is in high esteem among us, but which, you may
be sure, does not influence me, goes even so far as to call
it a misfortune if one wears a torn coat, a shabby hat, and
the like. If I should fail in my career, and have some day
nothing to eat, you must appoint me as clerk at Poturzyn.
There, in a room above the stables, I shall be as happy as I
was last summer in your castle. As long as I am in vigour and
health I shall willingly continue to work all my life. I have
often considered the question, whether I am really lazy or
whether I could work more without overexerting my strength.
Joking apart, I have convinced myself that I am not the worst
idler, and that I am able to work twice as much if necessity
demands it.

It often happens that he who wishes to better the opinion
which others have formed of him makes it worse; but, I think,
as regards you, I can make it neither better nor worse, even
if I occasionally praise myself. The sympathy which I have
for you forces your heart to have the same sympathetic
feelings for me. You are not master of your thoughts, but I
command mine; when I have once taken one into my head I do
not let it be taken from me, just as the trees do not let
themselves be robbed of their green garment which gives them
the charm of youth. With me it will be green in winter also,
that is, only in the head, but--God help me--in the heart the
greatest ardour, therefore, no one need wonder that the
vegetation is so luxuriant. Enough...yours for ever...Only
now I notice that I have talked too much nonsense. You see
yesterday's impression [he refers to the name-day festivity
already mentioned] has not yet quite passed away, I am still
sleepy and tired, because I danced too many mazurkas.

Around your letters I twine a little ribbon which my ideal
once gave me. I am glad the two lifeless things, the letters
and the ribbon, agree so well together, probably because,
although they do not know each other, they yet feel that they
both come from a hand dear to me.

Even the most courteous of mortals, unless he be wholly destitute
of veracity, will hesitate to deny the truth of Chopin's
confession that he has been talking nonsense. But apart from the
vagueness and illogicalness of several of the statements, the
foregoing effusion is curious as a whole: the thoughts turn up
one does not know where, how, or why--their course is quite
unaccountable; and if they passed through his mind in an unbroken
connection, he fails to give the slightest indication of it.
Still, although Chopin's philosophy of life, poetical rhapsodies,
and meditations on love and friendship, may not afford us much
light, edification, or pleasure, they help us substantially to
realise their author's character, and particularly his temporary
mood.

Great as was the magnetic power of the ideal over Chopin, great
as was the irresolution of the latter, the long delay of his
departure must not be attributed solely to these causes. The
disturbed state of Europe after the outbreak of the July
revolution in Paris had also something to do with this
interminable procrastination. Passports could only be had for
Prussia and Austria, and even for these countries not by
everyone. In France the excitement had not yet subsided, in Italy
it was nearing the boiling point. Nor were Vienna, whither Chopin
intended to go first, and the Tyrol, through which he would have
to pass on his way to Milan, altogether quiet. Chopin's father
himself, therefore, wished the journey to be postponed for a
short time. Nevertheless, our friend writes on September 22 that
he will start in a few weeks: his first goal is Vienna, where, he
says, they still remember him, and where he will forge the iron
as long as it is hot. But now to the climax of Chopin's amorous
fever.

I regret very much [he writes on September 22, 1830] that I
must write to you when, as to-day, I am unable to collect my
thoughts. When I reflect on myself I get into a sad mood, and
am in danger of losing my reason. When I am lost in my
thoughts--which is often the case with me--horses could
trample upon me, and yesterday this nearly happened in the
street without my noticing it. Struck in the church by a
glance of my ideal, I ran in a moment of pleasant stupor into
the street, and it was not till about a quarter of an hour
afterwards that I regained my full consciousness; I am
sometimes so mad that I am frightened at myself.

The melancholy cast of the letters cited in this chapter must not
lead us to think that despondence was the invariable state of
Chopin's mind. It is more probable that when his heart was
saddest he was most disposed to write to his friend his
confessions and complaints, as by this means he was enabled to
relieve himself to some extent of the burden that oppressed him.
At any rate, the agitations of love did not prevent him from
cultivating his art, for even at the time when he felt the
tyranny of the passion most potently, he mentions having composed
"some insignificant pieces," as he modestly expresses himself,
meaning, no doubt, "short pieces." Meanwhile Chopin had also
finished a composition which by no means belongs to the category
of "insignificant pieces"--namely, the Concerto in E minor, the
completion of which he announces on August 21, 1830. A critical
examination of this and other works will be found in a special
chapter, at present I shall speak only of its performance and the
circumstances connected with it.

On September 18, 1830, Chopin writes that a few days previously
he rehearsed the Concerto with quartet accompaniment, but that it
does not quite satisfy him:--

Those who were present at the rehearsal say that the Finale
is the most successful movement (probably because it is
easily intelligible). How it will sound with the orchestra I
cannot tell you till next Wednesday, when I shall play the
Concerto for the first time in this guise. To-morrow I shall
have another rehearsal with quartet.

To a rehearsal with full orchestra, except trumpets and drums (on
September 22, 1830), he invited Kurpinski, Soliva, and the select
musical world of Warsaw, in whose judgment, however, he professes
to have little confidence. Still, he is curious to know how--

the Capellmeister [Kurpinski] will look at the Italian
[Soliva], Czapek at Kessler, Filipeus at Dobrzynski, Molsdorf
at Kaczynski, Ledoux at Count Sohyk, and Mr. P. at us all. It
has never before occurred that all these gentlemen have been
assembled in one place; I alone shall succeed in this, and I
do it only out of curiosity!

The musicians in this company, among whom are Poles, Czechs,
Germans, Italians, &c., give us a good idea of the mixed
character of the musical world of Warsaw, which was not unlike
what the musical world of London is still in our day. From the
above remark we see that Chopin had neither much respect nor
affection for his fellow-musicians; indeed, there is not the
slightest sign in his letters that an intimacy existed between
him and any one of them. The rehearsals of the Concerto keep
Chopin pretty busy, and his head is full of the composition. In
the same letter from which I quoted last we find the following
passage:--

I heartily beg your pardon for my hasty letter of to-day; I
have still to run quickly to Elsner in order to make sure
that he will come to the rehearsal. Then I have also to
provide the desks and mutes, which I had yesterday totally
forgotten; without the latter the Adagio would be wholly
insignificant, and its success doubtful. The Rondo is
effective, the first Allegro vigorous. Cursed self-love! And
if it is anyone's fault that I am conceited it is yours,
egoist; he who associates with such a person becomes like
him. But in one point I am as yet unlike you. I can never
make up my mind quickly. But I have the firm will and the
secret intention actually to depart on Saturday week, without
pardon, and in spite of lamentations, tears, and complaints.
My music in the trunk, a certain ribbon on my heart, my soul
full of anxiety: thus into the post-chaise. To be sure,
everywhere in the town tears will flow in streams: from
Copernicus to the fountain, from the bank to the column of
King Sigismund; but I shall be cold and unfeeling as a stone,
and laugh at all those who wish to take such a heart-rending
farewell of me!

After the rehearsal of the Concerto with orchestra, which
evidently made a good impression upon the much-despised musical
world of Warsaw, Chopin resolved to give, or rather his friends
resolved for him that he should give, a concert in the theatre on
October 11, 1830. Although he is anxious to know what effect his
Concerto will produce on the public, he seems little disposed to
play at any concert, which may be easily understood if we
remember the state of mind he is in.

You can hardly imagine [he writes] how everything here makes
me impatient, and bores me, in consequence of the commotion
within me against which I cannot struggle.

The third and last of his Warsaw concerts was to be of a more
perfect type than the two preceding ones; it was to be one
"without those unlucky clarinet and bassoon solos," at that time
still so much in vogue. To make up for this quantitative loss
Chopin requested the Misses Gladkowska and Wolkow to sing some
arias, and obtained, not without much trouble, the requisite
permission for them from their master, Soliva, and the Minister
of Public Instruction, Mostowski. It was necessary to ask the
latter's permission, because the two young ladies were educated
as singers at the expense of the State.

The programme of the concert was as follows:--

PART I

1. Symphony by Gorner.

2. First Allegro from the Concerto in E minor, composed and
played by Chopin.

3. Aria with Chorus by Soliva, sung by Miss Wolkow.

4. Adagio and Rondo from the Concerto in E minor, composed
and played by Chopin.

PART II

1. Overture to "Guillaume Tell" by Rossini.

2. Cavatina from "La Donna del lago" by Rossini, sung by Miss
Gladkowska.

3. Fantasia on Polish airs, composed and played by Chopin.

The success of the concert made Chopin forget his sorrows. There
is not one complaint in the letter in which he gives an account
of it; in fact, he seems to have been enjoying real halcyon days.
He had a full house, but played with as little nervousness as if
he had been playing at home. The first Allegro of the Concerto
went very smoothly, and the audience rewarded him with thundering
applause. Of the reception of the Adagio and Rondo we learn
nothing except that in the pause between the first and second
parts the connoisseurs and amateurs came on the stage, and
complimented him in the most flattering terms on his playing. The
great success, however, of the evening was his performance of the
Fantasia on Polish airs. "This time I understood myself, the
orchestra understood me, and the audience understood us." This is
quite in the bulletin style of conquerors; it has a ring of
"veni, vidi, vici" about it. Especially the mazurka at the end of
the piece produced a great effect, and Chopin was called back so
enthusiastically that he was obliged to bow his acknowledgments
four times. Respecting the bowing he says: "I believe I did it
yesterday with a certain grace, for Brandt had taught me how to
do it properly." In short, the concert-giver was in the best of
spirits, one is every moment expecting him to exclaim: "Seid
umschlungen Millionen, diesen Kuss der ganzen Welt." He is
pleased with himself and Streicher's piano on which he had
played; pleased with Soliva, who kept both soloist and orchestra
splendidly in order; pleased with the impression the execution of
the overture made; pleased with the blue-robed, fay-like Miss
Wolkow; pleased most of all with Miss Gladkowska, who "wore a
white dress and roses in her hair, and was charmingly beautiful."
He tells his friend that:

she never sang so well as on that evening (except the aria in
"Agnese"). You know "O! quante lagrime per te versai." The
tutto detesto down to the lower b came out so magnificently
that Zielinski declared this b alone was worth a thousand
ducats.

In Vienna the score and parts of the Krakowiak had been found to
be full of mistakes, it was the same with the Concerto in Warsaw.
Chopin himself says that if Soliva had not taken the score with
him in order to correct it, he (Chopin) did not know what might
have become of the Concerto on the evening of the concert. Carl
Mikuli, who, as well as his fellow-pupil Tellefsen, copied many
of Chopin's MSS., says that they were full of slips of the pen,
such as wrong notes and signatures, omissions of accidentals,
dots, and intervals of chords, and incorrect markings of slurs
and 8va's.

Although Chopin wrote on October 5, 1830, that eight days after
the concert he would certainly be no longer in Warsaw, that his
trunk was bought, his whole outfit ready, the scores corrected,
the pocket-handkerchiefs hemmed, the new trousers and the new
dress-coat tried on, &c., that, in fact, nothing remained to be
done but the worst of all, the leave-taking, yet it was not till
the 1st of November, 1830, that he actually did take his
departure. Elsner and a number of friends accompanied him to
Wola, the first village beyond Warsaw. There the pupils of the
Conservatorium awaited them, and sang a cantata composed by
Elsner for the occasion. After this the friends once more sat
down together to a banquet which had been prepared for them. In
the course of the repast a silver goblet filled with Polish earth
was presented to Chopin in the name of all.

May you never forget your country [said the speaker,
according to Karasowski], wherever you may wander or sojourn,
may you never cease to love it with a warm, faithful heart!
Remember Poland, remember your friends, who call you with
pride their fellow-countryman, who expect great things of
you, whose wishes and prayers accompany you!

How fully Chopin realised their wishes and expectations the
sequel will show: how much such loving words must have affected
him the reader of this chapter can have no difficulty in
understanding. But now came pitilessly the dread hour of parting.
A last farewell is taken, the carriage rolls away, and the
traveller has left behind him all that is dearest to him--
parents, sisters, sweetheart, and friends. "I have always a
presentiment that I am leaving Warsaw never to return to it; I am
convinced that I shall say an eternal farewell to my native
country." Thus, indeed, destiny willed it. Chopin was never to
tread again the beloved soil of Poland, never to set eyes again
on Warsaw and its Conservatorium, the column of King Sigismund
opposite, the neighbouring church of the Bernardines
(Constantia's place of worship), and all those things and places
associated in his mind with the sweet memories of his youth and
early manhood.

CHAPTER XI.

CHOPIN IS JOINED AT KALISZ BY TITUS WOYCIECHOWSKI.--FOUR DAYS AT
BRESLAU: HIS VISITS TO THE THEATRE; CAPELLMEISTER SCHNABEL; PLAYS
AT A CONCERT; ADOLF HESSE.--SECOND VISIT TO DRESDEN: MUSIC AT
THEATRE AND CHURCH; GERMAN AND POLISH SOCIETY; MORLACCHI, SIGNORA
PALAZZESI, RASTRELLI, ROLLA, DOTZAUER, KUMMER, KLENGEL, AND OTHER
MUSICIANS; A CONCERT TALKED ABOUT BUT NOT GIVEN; SIGHT-SEEING.--
AFTER A WEEK, BY PRAGUE TO VIENNA.--ARRIVES AT VIENNA TOWARDS THE
END OF NOVEMBER, 1830.

Thanks to Chopin's extant letters to his family and friends it is
not difficult to give, with the help of some knowledge of the
contemporary artists and of the state of music in the towns he
visited, a pretty clear account of his experiences and mode of
life during the nine or ten months which intervene between his
departure from Warsaw and his arrival in Paris. Without the
letters this would have been impossible, and for two reasons: one
of them is that, although already a notable man, Chopin was not
yet a noted man; and the other, that those with whom he then
associated have, like himself, passed away from among us.

Chopin, who, as the reader will remember, left Warsaw on November
1, 1830, was joined at Kalisz by Titus Woyciechowski. Thence the
two friends travelled together to Vienna. They made their first
halt at Breslau, which they reached on November 6. No sooner had
Chopin put up at the hotel Zur goldenen Gans, changed his dress,
and taken some refreshments, than he rushed off to the theatre.
During his stay in Breslau he was present at three performances--
at Raimund's fantastical comedy "Der Alpenkonig und der
Menschenfeind", Auber's "Maurer und Schlosser (Le Macon)," and
Winter's "Das unterbrochene Opferfest", a now superannuated but
then still popular opera. The players succeeded better than the
singers in gaining the approval of their fastidious auditor,
which indeed might have been expected. As both Chopin and
Woyciechowski were provided with letters of introduction, and the
gentlemen to whom they were addressed did all in their power to
make their visitors' sojourn as pleasant as possible, the friends
spent in Breslau four happy days. It is characteristic of the
German musical life in those days that in the Ressource, a
society of that town, they had three weekly concerts at which the
greater number of the performers were amateurs. Capellmeister
Schnabel, an old acquaintance of Chopin's, had invited the latter
to come to a morning rehearsal. When Chopin entered, an amateur,
a young barrister, was going to rehearse Moscheles' E flat major
Concerto. Schnabel, on seeing the newcomer, asked him to try the
piano. Chopin sat down and played some variations which
astonished and delighted the Capellmeister, who had not heard him
for four years, so much that he overwhelmed him with expressions
of admiration. As the poor amateur began to feel nervous, Chopin
was pressed on all sides to take that gentleman's place in the
evening. Although he had not practised for some weeks he
consented, drove to the hotel, fetched the requisite music,
rehearsed, and in the evening performed the Romanza and Rondo of
his E minor Concerto and an improvisation on a theme from Auber's
"La Muette" ("Masaniello"). At the rehearsal the "Germans"
admired his playing; some of them he heard whispering "What a
light touch he has!" but not a word was said about the
composition. The amateurs did not know whether it was good or
bad. Titus Woyciechowski heard one of them say "No doubt he can
play, but he can't compose." There was, however, one gentleman
who praised the novelty of the form, and the composer naively
declares that this was the person who understood him best.
Speaking of the professional musicians, Chopin remarks that, with
the exception of Schnabel, "the Germans" were at a loss what to
think of him. The Polish peasants use the word "German" as an
invective, believe that the devil speaks German and dresses in
the German fashion, and refuse to take medicine because they hold
it to be an invention of the Germans and, consequently, unfit for
Christians. Although Chopin does not go so far, he is by no means
free from this national antipathy. Let his susceptibility be
ruffled by Germans, and you may be sure he will remember their
nationality. Besides old Schnabel there was among the persons
whose acquaintance Chopin made at Breslau only one other who
interests us, and interests us more than that respectable
composer of church music; and this one was the organist and
composer Adolph Frederick Hesse, then a young man of Chopin's
age. Before long the latter became better acquainted with him. In
his account of his stay and playing in the Silesian capital, he
says of him only that "the second local connoisseur, Hesse, who
has travelled through the whole of Germany, paid me also
compliments."

Chopin continued his journey on November 10, and on November 12
had already plunged into Dresden life. Two features of this, in
some respects quite unique, life cannot but have been
particularly attractive to our traveller--namely, its Polish
colony and the Italian opera. The former owed its origin to the
connection of the house of Saxony with the crown of Poland; and
the latter, which had been patronised by the Electors and Kings
for hundreds of years, was not disbanded till 1832. In 1817, it
is true, Weber, who had received a call for that purpose, founded
a German opera at Dresden, but the Italian opera retained the
favour of the Court and of a great part of the public, in fact,
was the spoiled child that looked down upon her younger sister,
poor Cinderella. Even a Weber had to fight hard to keep his own,
indeed, sometimes failed to do so, in the rivalry with the
ornatissimo Signore Cavaliere Morlacchi, primo maestro della
capella Reale.

Chopin's first visit was to Miss Pechwell, through whom he got
admission to a soiree at the house of Dr. Kreyssig, where she was
going to play and the prima donna of the Italian opera to sing.
Having carefully dressed, Chopin made his way to Dr. Kreyssig's
in a sedan-chair. Being unaccustomed to this kind of conveyance
he had a desire to kick out the bottom of the "curious but
comfortable box," a temptation which he, however--to his honour
be it recorded--resisted. On entering the salon he found there a
great number of ladies sitting round eight large tables:--

No sparkling of diamonds met my eye, but the more modest
glitter of a host of steel knitting-needles, which moved
ceaselessly in the busy hands of these ladies. The number of
ladies and knitting-needles was so large that if the ladies
had planned an attack upon the gentlemen that were present,
the latter would have been in a sorry plight. Nothing would
have been left to them but to make use of their spectacles as
weapons, for there was as little lack of eye-glasses as of
bald heads.

The clicking of knitting-needles and the rattling of teacups were
suddenly interrupted by the overture to the opera "Fra Diavolo,"
which was being played in an adjoining room. After the overture
Signora Palazzesi sang "with a bell-like, magnificent voice, and
great bravura." Chopin asked to be introduced to her. He made
likewise the acquaintance of the old composer and conductor
Vincent Rastrelli, who introduced him to a brother of the
celebrated tenor Rubini.

At the Roman Catholic church, the Court Church, Chopin met
Morlacchi, and heard a mass by that excellent artist. The
Neapolitan sopranists Sassaroli and Tarquinio sang, and the
"incomparable Rolla" played the solo violin. On another occasion
he heard a clever but dry mass by Baron von Miltitz, which was
performed under the direction of Morlacchi, and in which the
celebrated violoncello virtuosos Dotzauer and Kummer played their
solos beautifully, and the voices of Sassaroli, Muschetti,
Babnigg, and Zezi were heard to advantage. The theatre was, as
usual, assiduously frequented by Chopin. After the above-
mentioned soiree he hastened to hear at least the last act of
"Die Stumme von Portici" ("Masaniello"). Of the performance of
Rossini's "Tancredi," which he witnessed on another evening, he
praised only the wonderful violin playing of Rolla and the
singing of Mdlle. Hahnel, a lady from the Vienna Court Theatre.
Rossini's "La Donna del lago," in Italian, is mentioned among the
operas about to be performed. What a strange anomaly, that in the
year 1830 a state of matters such as is indicated by these names
and facts could still obtain in Dresden, one of the capitals of
musical Germany! It is emphatically a curiosity of history.

Chopin, who came to Rolla with a letter of introduction from
Soliva, was received by the Italian violinist with great
friendliness. Indeed, kindness was showered upon him from all
sides. Rubini promised him a letter of introduction to his
brother in Milan, Rolla one to the director of the opera there,
and Princess Augusta, the daughter of the late king, and Princess
Maximiliana, the sister-in-law of the reigning king, provided him
with letters for the Queen of Naples, the Duchess of Lucca, the
Vice-Queen of Milan, and Princess Ulasino in Rome. He had met the
princesses and played to them at the house of the Countess
Dobrzycka, Oberhofmeisterin of the Princess Augusta, daughter of
the late king, Frederick Augustus.