Frederick Chopin as a Man and Musician

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The whole of Chopin's person was harmonious. "His appearance,"
says Moscheles, who saw him in 1839, "is exactly like his music
[ist identificirt mit seiner Musik], both are tender and
schwarmerisch."

[FOOTNOTE: I shall not attempt to translate this word, but I will
give the reader a recipe. Take the notions "fanciful," "dreamy,"
and "enthusiastic" (in their poetic sense), mix them well, and
you have a conception of schwarmerisck.]

A slim frame of middle height; fragile but wonderfully flexible
limbs; delicately-formed hands; very small feet; an oval, softly-
outlined head; a pale, transparent complexion; long silken hair
of a light chestnut colour, parted on one side; tender brown
eyes, intelligent rather than dreamy; a finely-curved aquiline
nose; a sweet subtle smile; graceful and varied gestures: such
was the outward presence of Chopin. As to the colour of the eyes
and hair, the authorities contradict each other most thoroughly.
Liszt describes the eyes as blue, Karasowski as dark brown, and
M. Mathias as "couleur de biere." [FOOTNOTE: This strange
expression we find again in Count Wodzinski's Les trois Romans de
Frederic Chopin, where the author says: "His large limpid,
expressive, and soft eyes had that tint which the English call
auburn, which the Poles, his compatriots, describe as piwne (beer
colour), and which the French would denominate brown."] Of the
hair Liszt says that it was blonde, Madame Dubois and others that
it was cendre, Miss L. Ramann that it was dark blonde, and a
Scotch lady that it was dark brown. [FOOTNOTE: Count Wodzinski
writes: "It was not blonde, but of a shade similar to that of his
eyes: ash-coloured (cendre), with golden reflections in the
light."] Happily the matter is settled for us by an authority to
which all others must yield--namely, by M. T. Kwiatkowski, the
friend and countryman of Chopin, an artist who has drawn and
painted the latter frequently. Well, the information I received
from him is to the effect that Chopin had des yeux bruns tendres
(eyes of a tender brown), and les cheveux blonds chatains
(chestnut-blonde hair). Liszt, from whose book some of the above
details are derived, completes his portrayal of Chopin by some
characteristic touches. The timbre of his voice, he says, was
subdued and often muffled; and his movements had such a
distinction and his manners such an impress of good society that
one treated him unconsciously like a prince. His whole appearance
made one think of that of the convolvuli, which on incredibly
slender stems balance divinely-coloured chalices of such
vapourous tissue that the slightest touch destroys them.

And whilst Liszt attributes to Chopin all sorts of feminine
graces and beauties, he speaks of George Sand as an Amazon, a
femme-heros, who is not afraid to expose her masculine
countenance to all suns and winds. Merimee says of George Sand
that he has known her "maigre comme un clou et noire comme une
taupe." Musset, after their first meeting, describes her, to whom
he at a subsequent period alludes as femme a l'oeil sombre, thus:-
-

She is very beautiful; she is the kind of woman I like--brown,
pale, dull-complexioned with reflections as of bronze, and
strikingly large-eyed like an Indian. I have never been able
to contemplate such a countenance without inward emotion. Her
physiognomy is rather torpid, but when it becomes animated it
assumes a remarkably independent and proud expression.

The most complete literary portrayal of George Sand that has been
handed down to us, however, is by Heine. He represents her as
Chopin knew her, for although he published the portrait as late
as 1854 he did not represent her as she then looked; indeed, at
that time he had probably no intercourse with her, and therefore
was obliged to draw from memory. The truthfulness of Heine's
delineation is testified by the approval of many who knew George
Sand, and also by Couture's portrait of her:--

George Sand, the great writer, is at the same time a beautiful
woman. She is even a distinguished beauty. Like the genius
which manifests itself in her works, her face is rather to be
called beautiful than interesting. The interesting is always a
graceful or ingenious deviation from the type of the
beautiful, and the features of George Sand bear rather the
impress of a Greek regularity. Their form, however, is not
hard, but softened by the sentimentality which is suffused
over them like a veil of sorrow. The forehead is not high, and
the delicious chestnut-brown curly hair falls parted down to
the shoulders. Her eyes are somewhat dim, at least they are
not bright, and their fire may have been extinguished by many
tears, or may have passed into her works, which have spread
their flaming brands over the whole world, illumined many a
comfortless prison, but perhaps also fatally set on fire many
a temple of innocence. The authoress of "Lelia" has quiet,
soft eyes, which remind one neither of Sodom nor of Gomorrah.
She has neither an emancipated aquiline nose nor a witty
little snub nose. It is just an ordinary straight nose. A good-
natured smile plays usually around her mouth, but it is not
very attractive; the somewhat hanging under-lip betrays
fatigued sensuality. The chin is full and plump, but
nevertheless beautifully proportioned. Also her shoulders are
beautiful, nay, magnificent. Likewise her arms and hands,
which, like her feet, are small. Let other contemporaries
describe the charms of her bosom, I confess my incompetence.
The rest of her bodily frame seems to be somewhat too stout,
at least too short. Only her head bears the impress of
ideality; it reminds one of the noblest remains of Greek art,
and in this respect one of our friends could compare the
beautiful woman to the marble statue of the Venus of Milo,
which stands in one of the lower rooms of the Louvre. Yes, she
is as beautiful as the Venus of Milo; she even surpasses the
latter in many respects: she is, for instance, very much
younger. The physiognomists who maintain that the voice of man
reveals his character most unmistakably would be much at a
loss if they were called upon to detect George Sand's
extraordinary depth of feeling [Innigkeit] in her voice. The
latter is dull and faded, without sonority, but soft and
agreeable. The naturalness of her speaking lends it some
charm. Of vocal talent she exhibits not a trace! George Sand
sings at best with the bravura of a beautiful grisette who has
not yet breakfasted or happens not to be in good voice. The
organ of George Sand has as little brilliancy as what she
says. She has nothing whatever of the sparkling esprit of her
countrywomen, but also nothing of their talkativeness. The
cause of this taciturnity, however, is neither modesty nor
sympathetic absorption in the discourse of another. She is
taciturn rather from haughtiness, because she does not think
you worth squandering her cleverness [Geist] upon, or even
from selfishness, because she endeavours to absorb the best of
your discourse in order to work it up afterwards in her works.
That out of avarice George Sand knows how never to give
anything and always to take something in conversation, is a
trait to which Alfred de Musset drew my attention. "This gives
her a great advantage over us," said Musset, who, as he had
for many years occupied the post of cavaliere servente to the
lady, had had the best opportunity to learn to know her
thoroughly. George Sand never says anything witty; she is
indeed one of the most unwitty Frenchwomen I know.

While admiring the clever drawing and the life-like appearance of
the portrait, we must, however, not overlook the exaggerations
and inaccuracies. The reader cannot have failed to detect the
limner tripping with regard to Musset, who occupied not many
years but less than a year the post of cavaliere servente. But
who would expect religious adherence to fact from Heine, who at
all times distinguishes himself rather by wit than
conscientiousness? What he says of George Sand's taciturnity in
company and want of wit, however, must be true; for she herself
tells us of these negative qualities in the Histoire de ma Vie.

The musical accomplishments of Chopin's beloved one have, of
course, a peculiar interest for us. Liszt, who knew her so well,
informed me that she was not musical, but possessed taste and
judgment. By "not musical" he meant no doubt that she was not in
the habit of exhibiting her practical musical acquirements, or
did not possess these latter to any appreciable extent. She
herself seems to me to make too much of her musical talents,
studies, and knowledge. Indeed, her writings show that, whatever
her talents may have been, her taste was vague and her knowledge
very limited.

When we consider the diversity of character, it is not a matter
for wonder that Chopin was at first rather repelled than
attracted by the personality of George Sand. Nor is it, on the
other hand, a matter for wonder that her beauty and power of
pleasing proved too strong for his antipathy. How great this
power of pleasing was when she wished to exercise it, the reader
may judge from the incident I shall now relate. Musset's mother,
having been informed of her son's projected tour to Italy, begged
him to give it up. The poet promised to comply with her request:
"If one must weep, it shall not be you," he said. In the evening
George Sand came in a carriage to the door and asked for Madame
Musset; the latter came out, and after a short interview gave her
consent to her son's departure. Chopin's unsuccessful wooing of
Miss Wodzinska and her marriage with Count Skarbek in this year
(1837) may not have been without effect on the composer. His
heart being left bruised and empty was as it were sensitised (if
I may use this photographic term) for the reception of a new
impression by the action of love. In short, the intimacy between
Chopin and George Sand grew steadily and continued to grow till
it reached its climax in the autumn of 1838, when they went
together to Majorca. Other matters, however, have to be adverted
to before we come to this passage of Chopin's life. First I shall
have to say a few words about his artistic activity during the
years 1837 and 1838.

Among the works composed by Chopin in 1837 was one of the
Variations on the March from I Puritani, which were published
under the title Hexameron: Morceau de Concert. Grandes variations
de bravoure sur la marche des Puritains de Bellini, composees
pour le concert de Madame la Princesse Belgiojoso au benefice des
pauvres, par M.M. Liszt, Thalberg, Pixis, H. Herz, Czerny, et
Chopin. This co-operative undertaking was set on foot by the
Princess, and was one of her many schemes to procure money for
her poor exiled countrymen. Liszt played these Variations often
at his concerts, and even wrote orchestral accompaniments to
them, which, however, were never published.

Chopin's publications of the year 1837 are: in October, Op. 25,
Douze Etudes, dedicated to Madame la Comtesse d'Agoult; and in
December, Op. 29, Impromptu (in A flat major), dedicated to
Mdlle. la Comtesse de Lobau; Op. 30, Quatre Mazurkas, dedicated
to Madame la Princesse de Wurtemberg, nee Princesse Czartoryska;
Op. 31, Deuxieme Scherzo (B flat minor), dedicated to Mdlle. la
Comtesse Adele de Furstenstein; and Op. 32, Deux Nocturnes (B
major and A flat major), dedicated to Madame la Baronne de
Billing. His publications of the year 1838 are: in October, Op.
33, Quatre Mazurkas, dedicated to Mdlle. la Comtesse Mostowska;
and, in December, Op. 34, Trois Valses brillantes (A flat major,
A minor, and F major), respectively dedicated to Mdlle. de Thun-
Hohenstein, Madame G. d'Ivri, and Mdlle. A. d'Eichthal. This last
work appeared at Paris first in an Album des Pianistes, a
collection of unpublished pieces by Thalberg, Chopin, Doehler,
Osborne, Liszt, and Mereaux. Two things in connection with this
album may yet be mentioned--namely, that Mereaux contributed to
it a Fantasia on a mazurka by Chopin, and that Stephen Heller
reviewed it in the Gazette musicale. Chopin was by no means
pleased with the insertion of the waltzes in Schlesinger's Album
des Pianistes. But more of this and his labours and grievances as
a composer in the next chapter.

There are also to be recorded some public and semi-public
appearances of Chopin as a virtuoso. On February 25, 1838, the
Gazette musicale informs its readers that Chopin, "that equally
extraordinary and modest pianist," had lately been summoned to
Court to be heard there en cercle intime. His inexhaustible
improvisations, which almost made up the whole of the evening's
entertainment, were particularly admired by the audience, which
knew as well as a gathering of artists how to appreciate the
composer's merits. At a concert given by Valentin Alkan on March
3, 1838, Chopin performed with Zimmermann, Gutmann, and the
concert-giver, the latter's arrangement of Beethoven's A major
Symphony (or rather some movements from it) for two pianos and
eight hands. And in the Gazette musicale of March 25, 1838, there
is a report by M. Legouve of Chopin's appearance at a concert
given by his countryman Orlowski at Rouen, where the latter had
settled after some years stay in Paris. From a writer in the
Journal de Rouen (December 1, 1849) we learn that ever since this
concert, which was held in the town-hall, and at which the
composer played his E minor Concerto with incomparable
perfection, the name of Chopin had in the musical world of Rouen
a popularity which secured to his memory an honourable and
cordial sympathy. But here is what Legouve says about this
concert. I transcribe the notice in full, because it shows us
both how completely Chopin had retired from the noise and strife
of publicity, and how high he stood in the estimation of his
contemporaries.

Here is an event which is not without importance in the
musical world. Chopin, who has not been heard in public for
several years; Chopin, who imprisons his charming genius in an
audience of five or six persons; Chopin, who resembles those
enchanted isles where so many marvels are said to abound that
one regards them as fabulous; Chopin, whom one can never
forget after having once heard him; Chopin has just given a
grand concert at Rouen before 500 people for the benefit of a
Polish professor. Nothing less than a good action to be done
and the remembrance of his country could have overcome his
repugnance to playing in public. Well! the success was
immense! immense! All these enchanting melodies, these
ineffable delicacies of execution, these melancholy and
impassioned inspirations, and all that poesy of playing and of
composition which takes hold at once of your imagination and
heart, have penetrated, moved, enraptured 500 auditors, as
they do the eight or ten privileged persons who listen to him
religiously for whole hours; every moment there were in the
hall those electric fremissements, those murmurs of ecstasy
and astonishment which are the bravos of the soul. Forward
then, Chopin! forward! let this triumph decide you; do not be
selfish, give your beautiful talent to all; consent to pass
for what you are; put an end to the great debate which divides
the artists; and when it shall be asked who is the first
pianist of Europe, Liszt or Thalberg, let all the world reply,
like those who have heard you..."It is Chopin."

Chopin's artistic achievements, however, were not unanimously
received with such enthusiastic approval. A writer in the less
friendly La France musicale goes even so far as to stultify
himself by ridiculing, a propos of the A flat Impromptu, the
composer's style. This jackanapes--who belongs to that numerous
class of critics whose smartness of verbiage combined with
obtuseness of judgment is so well-known to the serious musical
reader and so thoroughly despised by him--ignores the spiritual
contents of the work under discussion altogether, and condemns
without hesitation every means of expression which in the
slightest degree deviates from the time-honoured standards. We
are told that Chopin's mode of procedure in composing is this. He
goes in quest of an idea, writes, writes, modulates through all
the twenty-four keys, and, if the idea fails to come, does
without it and concludes the little piece very nicely (tres-
bien). And now, gentle reader, ponder on this momentous and
immeasurably sad fact: of such a nature was, is, and ever will be
the great mass of criticism.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHOPIN'S VISITS TO NOHANT IN 1837 AND 1838.--HIS ILL HEALTH.--HE
DECIDES TO GO WITH MADAME SAND AND HER CHILDREN TO MAJORCA.--
MADAME SAND'S ACCOUNT OF THIS MATTER AND WHAT OTHERS THOUGHT
ABOUT IT.--CHOPIN AND HIS FELLOW--TRAVELLERS MEET AT PERPIGNAN IN
THE BEGINNING OF NOVEMBER, 1838, AND PROCEED BY PORT-VENDRES AND
BARCELONA TO PALMA.--THEIR LIFE AND EXPERIENCES IN THE TOWN, AT
THE VILLA SON-VENT, AND AT THE MONASTERY OF VALDEMOSA, AS
DESCRIBED IN CHOPIN'S AND GEORGE SAND'S LETTERS, AND THE LATTER'S
"MA VIE" AND "UN HIVER A MAJORQUE."--THE PRELUDES.--RETURN TO
FRANCE BY BARCELONA AND MARSEILLES IN THE END OF FEBRUARY, 1839.

In a letter written in 1837, and quoted on p. 313 of Vol. I.,
Chopin said: "I may perhaps go for a few days to George Sand's."
How heartily she invited him through their common friends Liszt
and the Comtesse d'Agoult, we saw in the preceding chapter. We
may safely assume, I think, that Chopin went to Nohant in the
summer of 1837, and may be sure that he did so in the summer of
1838, although with regard to neither visit reliable information
of any kind is discoverable. Karasowski, it is true, quotes four
letters of Chopin to Fontana as written from Nohant in 1838, but
internal evidence shows that they must have been written three
years later.

We know from Mendelssohn's and Moscheles' allusions to Chopin's
visit to London that he was at that time ailing. He himself wrote
in the same year (1837) to Anthony Wodzinski that during the
winter he had been again ill with influenza, and that the doctors
had wanted to send him to Ems. As time went on the state of his
health seems to have got worse, and this led to his going to
Majorca in the winter of 1838-1839. The circumstance that he had
the company of Madame Sand on this occasion has given rise to
much discussion. According to Liszt, Chopin was forced by the
alarming state of his health to go to the south in order to avoid
the severities of the Paris winter; and Madame Sand, who always
watched sympathetically over her friends, would not let him
depart alone, but resolved to accompany him. Karasowski, on the
other hand, maintains that it was not Madame Sand who was induced
to accompany Chopin, but that Madame Sand induced Chopin to
accompany her. Neither of these statements tallies with Madame
Sand's own account. She tells us that when in 1838 her son
Maurice, who had been in the custody of his father, was
definitively entrusted to her care, she resolved to take him to a
milder climate, hoping thus to prevent a return of the rheumatism
from which he had suffered so much in the preceding year.
Besides, she wished to live for some time in a quiet place where
she could make her children work, and could work herself,
undisturbed by the claims of society.

As I was making my plans and preparations for departure [she
goes on to say], Chopin, whom I saw every day and whose genius
and character I tenderly loved, said to me that if he were in
Maurice's place he would soon recover. I believed it, and I
was mistaken. I did not put him in the place of Maurice on the
journey, but beside Maurice. His friends had for long urged
him to go and spend some time in the south of Europe. People
believed that he was consumptive. Gaubert examined him and
declared to me that he was not. "You will save him, in fact,"
he said to me, "if you give him air, exercise, and rest."
Others, knowing well that Chopin would never make up his mind
to leave the society and life of Paris without being carried
off by a person whom he loved and who was devoted to him,
urged me strongly not to oppose the desire he showed so a
propos and in a quite unhoped-for way.

As time showed, I was wrong in yielding to their hopes and my
own solicitude. It was indeed enough to go abroad alone with
two children, one already ill, the other full of exuberant
health and spirits, without taking upon myself also a terrible
anxiety and a physician's responsibility.

But Chopin was just then in a state of health that reassured
everybody. With the exception of Grzymala, who saw more
clearly how matters stood, we were all hopeful. I nevertheless
begged Chopin to consider well his moral strength, because for
several years he had never contemplated without dread the idea
of leaving Paris, his physician, his acquaintances, his room
even, and his piano. He was a man of imperious habits, and
every change, however small it might be, was a terrible event
in his life.

Seeing that Liszt--who was at the time in Italy--and Karasowski
speak only from hearsay, we cannot do better than accept George
Sand's account, which contains nothing improbable. In connection
with this migration to the south, I must, however, not omit to
mention certain statements of Adolph Gutmann, one of Chopin's
pupils. Here is the substance of what Gutmann told me. Chopin was
anxious to go to Majorca, but for some time was kept in suspense
by the scantiness of his funds. This threatening obstacle,
however, disappeared when his friend the pianoforte-maker and
publisher, Camille Pleyel, paid him 2,000 francs for the
copyright of the Preludes, Op. 28. Chopin remarked of this
transaction to Gutmann, or in his hearing: "I sold the Preludes
to Pleyel because he liked them [parcequ'il les. aimait]." And
Pleyel exclaimed on one occasion: "These are my Preludes [Ce sont
mes Preludes]." Gutmann thought that Pleyel, who was indebted to
Chopin for playing on his instruments and recommending them,
wished to assist his friend in a delicate way with some money,
and therefore pretended to be greatly taken with these
compositions and bent upon possessing them. This, however, cannot
be quite correct; for from Chopin's letters, which I shall quote
I presently, it appears that he had indeed promised Pleyel the
Preludes, but before his departure received from him only 500
francs, the remaining 1,500 being paid months afterwards, on the
delivery of the manuscript. These letters show, on the other
hand, that when Chopin was in Majorca he owed to Leo 1,000
francs, which very likely he borrowed from him to defray part of
the expenses of his sojourn in the south.

[FOOTNOTE: August Leo, a Paris banker, "the friend and patron of
many artists," as he is called by Moscheles, who was related to
him through his wife Charlotte Embden, of Hamburg. The name of
Leo occurs often in the letters and conversations of musicians,
especially German musicians, who visited Paris or lived there in
the second quarter of this century. Leo kept house together with
his brother-in-law Valentin. (See Vol. I., p. 254.)]

Chopin kept his intention of going with Madame Sand to Majorca
secret from all but a privileged few. According to Franchomme, he
did not speak of it even to his friends. There seem to have been
only three exceptions--Fontana, Matuszynski, and Grzymala, and in
his letters to the first he repeatedly entreats his friend not to
talk about him. Nor does he seem to have been much more
communicative after his return, for none of Chopin's
acquaintances whom I questioned was able to tell me whether the
composer looked back on this migration with satisfaction or with
regret; still less did they remember any remark made by him that
would throw a more searching light on this period of his life.

Until recently the only sources of information bearing on
Chopin's stay in Majorca were George Sand's "Un Hiver a Majorque"
and "Histoire de ma Vie." But now we have also Chopin's letters
to Fontana (in the Polish edition of Karasowski's "Chopin") and
George Sand's "Correspondance," which supplement and correct the
two publications of the novelist. Remembering the latter's
tendency to idealise everything, and her disinclination to
descend to the prose of her subject, I shall make the letters the
backbone of my narrative, and for the rest select my material
cautiously.

Telling Chopin that she would stay some days at Perpignan if he
were not there on her arrival, but would proceed without him if
he failed to make his appearance within a certain time, Madame
Sand set out with her two children and a maid in the month of
November, 1838, for the south of France, and, travelling for
travelling's sake, visited Lyons, Avignon, Vaucluse, Nimes, and
other places. The distinguished financier and well-known Spanish
statesman Mendizabal, their friend, who was going to Madrid, was
to accompany Chopin to the Spanish frontier. Madame Sand was not
long left in doubt as to whether Chopin would realise his reve de
voyage or not, for he put in his appearance at Perpignan the very
next day after her arrival there. Madame Sand to Madame Marliani,
[FOOTNOTE: The wife of the Spanish politician and author, Manuel
Marliani. We shall hear more of her farther on.] November, 1838:-
-