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Frederick Chopin, as a Man and Musician — Complete

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Title: Frederick Chopin, as a Man and Musician — Complete

Author: Frederick Niecks


        
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FREDERICK CHOPIN AS A MAN AND MUSICIAN

By Frederick Niecks


Third Edition (1902)




VOLUME I.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

     PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION (1888)
     PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION (1890)
     PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION (1902)
     PROEM: POLAND AND THE POLES
     CHAPTERS I-XIX




PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION



While the novelist has absolute freedom to follow his artistic instinct
and intelligence, the biographer is fettered by the subject-matter with
which he proposes to deal. The former may hopefully pursue an ideal, the
latter must rest satisfied with a compromise between the desirable and
the necessary. No doubt, it is possible to thoroughly digest all the
requisite material, and then present it in a perfect, beautiful form.
But this can only be done at a terrible loss, at a sacrifice of truth
and trustworthiness. My guiding principle has been to place before the
reader the facts collected by me as well as the conclusions at which I
arrived. This will enable him to see the subject in all its bearings,
with all its pros and cons, and to draw his own conclusions, should
mine not obtain his approval. Unless an author proceeds in this way,
the reader never knows how far he may trust him, how far the evidence
justifies his judgment. For--not to speak of cheats and fools--the
best informed are apt to make assertions unsupported or insufficiently
supported by facts, and the wisest cannot help seeing things through the
coloured spectacles of their individuality. The foregoing remarks are
intended to explain my method, not to excuse carelessness of literary
workmanship. Whatever the defects of the present volumes may be--and, no
doubt, they are both great and many--I have laboured to the full extent
of my humble abilities to group and present my material perspicuously,
and to avoid diffuseness and rhapsody, those besetting sins of writers
on music.

The first work of some length having Chopin for its subject was Liszt's
"Frederic Chopin," which, after appearing in 1851 in the Paris journal
"La France musicale," came out in book-form, still in French, in 1852
(Leipzig: Breitkopf and Hartel.--Translated into English by M. W. Cook,
and published by William Reeves, London, 1877). George Sand describes
it as "un peu exuberant de style, mais rempli de bonnes choses et de
tres-belles pages." These words, however, do in no way justice to the
book: for, on the one hand, the style is excessively, and not merely
a little, exuberant; and, on the other hand, the "good things" and
"beautiful pages" amount to a psychological study of Chopin, and an
aesthetical study of his works, which it is impossible to over-estimate.
Still, the book is no biography. It records few dates and events, and
these few are for the most part incorrect. When, in 1878, the second
edition of F. Chopin was passing through the press, Liszt remarked to
me:--

"I have been told that there are wrong dates and other mistakes in my
book, and that the dates and facts are correctly given in Karasowski's
biography of Chopin [which had in the meantime been published]. But,
though I often thought of reading it, I have not yet done so. I got my
information from Paris friends on whom I believed I might depend. The
Princess Wittgenstein [who then lived in Rome, but in 1850 at Weimar,
and is said to have had a share in the production of the book] wished me
to make some alterations in the new edition. I tried to please her, but,
when she was still dissatisfied, I told her to add and alter whatever
she liked."

From this statement it is clear that Liszt had not the stuff of a
biographer in him. And, whatever value we may put on the Princess
Wittgenstein's additions and alterations, they did not touch the vital
faults of the work, which, as a French critic remarked, was a symphonie
funebre rather than a biography. The next book we have to notice, M. A.
Szulc's Polish Fryderyk Chopin i Utwory jego Muzyczne (Posen, 1873), is
little more than a chaotic, unsifted collection of notices, criticisms,
anecdotes, &c., from Polish, German, and French books and magazines. In
1877 Moritz Karasowski, a native of Warsaw, and since 1864 a member of
the Dresden orchestra, published his Friedrich Chopin: sein Leben, seine
Werke und seine Briefe (Dresden: F. Ries.--Translated into English by
E. Hill, under the title Frederick Chopin: "His Life, Letters, and Work,"
and published by William Reeves, London, in 1879). This was the first
serious attempt at a biography of Chopin. The author reproduced in
the book what had been brought to light in Polish magazines and other
publications regarding Chopin's life by various countrymen of the
composer, among whom he himself was not the least notable. But the most
valuable ingredients are, no doubt, the Chopin letters which the author
obtained from the composer's relatives, with whom he was acquainted.
While gratefully acknowledging his achievements, I must not omit to
indicate his shortcomings--his unchecked partiality for, and boundless
admiration of his hero; his uncritical acceptance and fanciful
embellishments of anecdotes and hearsays; and the extreme paucity of his
information concerning the period of Chopin's life which begins with
his settlement in Paris. In 1878 appeared a second edition of the work,
distinguished from the first by a few additions and many judicious
omissions, the original two volumes being reduced to one. But of more
importance than the second German edition is the first Polish edition,
"Fryderyk Chopin: Zycie, Listy, Dziela," two volumes (Warsaw: Gebethner
and Wolff, 1882), which contains a series of, till then, unpublished
letters from Chopin to Fontana. Of Madame A. Audley's short and readable
"Frederic Chopin, sa vie et ses oeuvres" (Paris: E. Plon et Cie., 1880),
I need only say that for the most part it follows Karasowski, and where
it does not is not always correct. Count Wodzinski's "Les trois Romans
de Frederic Chopin" (Paris: Calmann Levy, 1886)--according to the title
treating only of the composer's love for Constantia Gladkowska, Maria
Wodzinska, and George Sand, but in reality having a wider scope--cannot
be altogether ignored, though it is more of the nature of a novel than
of a biography. Mr. Joseph Bennett, who based his "Frederic Chopin" (one
of Novello's Primers of Musical Biography) on Liszt's and Karasowski's
works, had in the parts dealing with Great Britain the advantage of
notes by Mr. A.J. Hipkins, who inspired also, to some extent at least,
Mr. Hueffer in his essay Chopin ("Fortnightly Review," September, 1877;
and reprinted in "Musical Studies"--Edinburgh: A. & C. Black, 1880).
This ends the list of biographies with any claims to originality. There
are, however, many interesting contributions to a biography of Chopin
to be found in works of various kinds. These shall be mentioned in
the course of my narrative; here I will point out only the two most
important ones--namely, George Sand's "Histoire de ma Vie," first
published in the Paris newspaper "La Presse" (1854) and subsequently in
book-form; and her six volumes of "Correspondance," 1812-1876 (Paris:
Calmann Levy, 1882-1884).

My researches had for their object the whole life of Chopin, and his
historical, political, artistical, social, and personal surroundings,
but they were chiefly directed to the least known and most interesting
period of his career--his life in France, and his visits to Germany and
Great Britain. My chief sources of information are divisible into two
classes--newspapers, magazines, pamphlets, correspondences, and books;
and conversations I held with, and letters I received from, Chopin's
pupils, friends, and acquaintances. Of his pupils, my warmest thanks are
due to Madame Dubois (nee Camille O'Meara), Madame Rubio (nee Vera de
Kologrivof), Mdlle. Gavard, Madame Streicher (nee Friederike Muller),
Adolph Gutmann, M. Georges Mathias, Brinley Richards, and Lindsay
Sloper; of friends and acquaintances, to Liszt, Ferdinand Hiller,
Franchomme, Charles Valentin Alkan, Stephen Heller, Edouard Wolff, Mr.
Charles Halle, Mr. G. A. Osborne, T. Kwiatkowski, Prof. A. Chodzko, M.
Leonard Niedzwiecki (gallice, Nedvetsky), Madame Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt,
Mr. A. J. Hipkins, and Dr. and Mrs. Lyschinski. I am likewise greatly
indebted to Messrs. Breitkopf and Hartel, Karl Gurckhaus (the late
proprietor of the firm of Friedrich Kistner), Julius Schuberth,
Friedrich Hofmeister, Edwin Ashdown, Richault & Cie, and others, for
information in connection with the publication of Chopin's works. It is
impossible to enumerate all my obligations--many of my informants and
many furtherers of my labours will be mentioned in the body of the book;
many, however, and by no means the least helpful, will remain unnamed.
To all of them I offer the assurance of my deep-felt gratitude. Not a
few of my kind helpers, alas! are no longer among the living; more than
ten years have gone by since I began my researches, and during that time
Death has been reaping a rich harvest.

The Chopin letters will, no doubt, be regarded as a special feature
of the present biography. They may, I think, be called numerous, if we
consider the master's dislike to letter-writing. Ferdinand Hiller--whose
almost unique collection of letters addressed to him by his famous
friends in art and literature is now, and will be for years to come,
under lock and key among the municipal archives at Cologne--allowed
me to copy two letters by Chopin, one of them written conjointly with
Liszt. Franchomme, too, granted me the privilege of copying his friend's
epistolary communications. Besides a number of letters that have here
and there been published, I include, further, a translation of Chopin's
letters to Fontana, which in Karasowski's book (i.e., the Polish
edition) lose much of their value, owing to his inability to assign
approximately correct dates to them.

The space which I give to George Sand is, I think, justified by the part
she plays in the life of Chopin. To meet the objections of those who
may regard my opinion of her as too harsh, I will confess that I
entered upon the study of her character with the impression that she had
suffered much undeserved abuse, and that it would be incumbent upon a
Chopin biographer to defend her against his predecessors and the friends
of the composer. How entirely I changed my mind, the sequel will show.

In conclusion, a few hints as to the pronunciation of Polish words,
which otherwise might puzzle the reader uninitiated in the mysteries
of that rarely-learned language. Aiming more at simplicity than at
accuracy, one may say that the vowels are pronounced somewhat like this:
a as in "arm," aL like the nasal French "on," e as in "tell," e/ with
an approach to the French "e/" (or to the German "u [umlaut]" and "o
[umlaut]"), eL like the nasal French "in," i as in "pick," o as in
"not," o/ with an approach to the French "ou," u like the French ou, and
y with an approach to the German "i" and "u." The following consonants
are pronounced as in English: b, d, f, g (always hard), h, k, I, m, n,
p, s, t, and z. The following single and double consonants differ from
the English pronunciation: c like "ts," c/ softer than c, j like "y,"
l/ like "ll" with the tongue pressed against the upper row of teeth,
n/ like "ny" (i.e., n softened by i), r sharper than in English, w like
"v," z/ softer than z, z. and rz like the French "j," ch like the German
guttural "ch" in "lachen" (similar to "ch" in the Scotch "loch"), cz
like "ch" in "cherry," and sz like "sh" in "sharp." Mr. W. R. Morfill
("A Simplified Grammar of the Polish Language") elucidates the
combination szcz, frequently to be met with, by the English expression
"smasht china," where the italicised letters give the pronunciation.
Lastly, family names terminating in take a instead of i when applied to
women.

April, 1888.




PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.



The second edition differs from the first by little more than the
correction of some misprints and a few additions. These latter are to
be found among the Appendices. The principal addition consists of
interesting communications from Madame Peruzzi, a friend of Chopin's
still living at Florence. Next in importance come Madame Schumann's
diary notes bearing on Chopin's first visit to Leipzig. The remaining
additions concern early Polish music, the first performances of Chopin's
works at the Leipzig Gewandhaus, his visit to Marienbad (remarks by
Rebecca Dirichlet), the tempo rubato, and his portraits. To the names
of Chopin's friends and acquaintances to whom I am indebted for valuable
assistance, those of Madame Peruzzi and Madame Schumann have, therefore,
to be added. My apologies as well as my thanks are due to Mr. Felix
Moscheles, who kindly permitted a fac-simile to be made from a
manuscript, in his possession, a kindness that ought to have been
acknowledged in the first edition. I am glad that a second edition
affords me an opportunity to repair this much regretted omission. The
manuscript in question is an "Etude" which Chopin wrote for the "Methode
des Methodes de Piano," by F. J. Fetis and I. Moscheles, the father of
Mr. Felix Moscheles. This concludes what I have to say about the second
edition, but I cannot lay down the pen without expressing my gratitude
to critics and public for the exceedingly favourable reception they have
given to my book.

October, 1890.




PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.



BESIDES minor corrections, the present edition contains the correction
of the day and year of Frederick Francis Chopin's birth, which have been
discovered since the publication of the second edition of this work.
According to the baptismal entry in the register of the Brochow parish
church, he who became the great pianist and immortal composer was born
on February 22, 1810. This date has been generally accepted in
Poland, and is to be found on the medal struck on the occasion of the
semi-centenary celebration of the master's death. Owing to a misreading
of musicus for magnificus in the published copy of the document, its
trustworthiness has been doubted elsewhere, but, I believe, without
sufficient cause. The strongest argument that could be urged against
the acceptance of the date would be the long interval between birth and
baptism, which did not take place till late in April, and the consequent
possibility of an error in the registration. This, however, could only
affect the day, and perhaps the month, not the year. It is certainly
a very curious circumstance that Fontana, a friend of Chopin's in his
youth and manhood, Karasowski, at least an acquaintance, if not an
intimate friend, of the family (from whom he derived much information),
Fetis, a contemporary lexicographer, and apparently Chopin's family, and
even Chopin himself, did not know the date of the latter's birth.

Where the character of persons and works of art are concerned, nothing
is more natural than differences of opinion. Bias and inequality of
knowledge sufficiently account for them. For my reading of the character
of George Sand, I have been held up as a monster of moral depravity; for
my daring to question the exactitude of Liszt's biographical facts, I
have been severely sermonised; for my inability to regard Chopin as one
of the great composers of songs, and continue uninterruptedly in a state
of ecstatic admiration, I have been told that the publication of my
biography of the master is a much to be deplored calamity. Of course,
the moral monster and author of the calamity cannot pretend to be an
unbiassed judge in the case; but it seems to him that there may be some
exaggeration and perhaps even some misconception in these accusations.

As to George Sand, I have not merely made assertions, but have earnestly
laboured to prove the conclusions at which I reluctantly arrived. Are
George Sand's pretentions to self-sacrificing saintliness, and to purely
maternal feelings for Musset, Chopin, and others to be accepted in spite
of the fairy-tale nature of her "Histoire," and the misrepresentations
of her "Lettres d'un Voyageur" and her novels "Elle et lui" and
"Lucrezia Floriani"; in spite of the adverse indirect testimony of
some of her other novels, and the adverse direct testimony of her
"Correspondance"; and in spite of the experiences and firm beliefs of
her friends, Liszt included? Let us not overlook that charitableness
towards George Sand implies uncharitableness towards Chopin, place. Need
I say anything on the extraordinary charge made against me--namely, that
in some cases I have preferred the testimony of less famous men to
that of Liszt? Are genius, greatness, and fame the measures of
trustworthiness?

As to Chopin, the composer of songs, the case is very simple. His
pianoforte pieces are original tone-poems of exquisite beauty; his
songs, though always acceptable, and sometimes charming, are not. We
should know nothing of them and the composer, if of his works they alone
had been published. In not publishing them himself, Chopin gave us his
own opinion, an opinion confirmed by the singers in rarely performing
them and by the public in little caring for them. In short, Chopin's
songs add nothing to his fame. To mention them in one breath with those
of Schubert and Schumann, or even with those of Robert Franz and
Adolf Jensen, is the act of an hero-worshipping enthusiast, not of a
discriminating critic.

On two points, often commented upon by critics, I feel regret, although
not repentance--namely, on any "anecdotic iconoclasm" where fact
refuted fancy, and on my abstention from pronouncing judgments where the
evidence was inconclusive. But how can a conscientious biographer help
this ungraciousness and inaccommodativeness? Is it not his duty to tell
the truth, and nothing but the truth, in order that his subject may
stand out unobstructed and shine forth unclouded?

In conclusion, two instances of careless reading. One critic, after
attributing a remark of Chopin's to me, exclaims: "The author is fond
of such violent jumps to conclusions." And an author, most benevolently
inclined towards me, enjoyed the humour of my first "literally ratting"
George Sand, and then saying that I "abstained from pronouncing judgment
because the complete evidence did not warrant my doing so." The former
(in vol. i.) had to do with George Sand's character; the latter (in vol.
ii.) with the moral aspect of her connection with Chopin.

An enumeration of the more notable books dealing with Chopin, published
after the issue of the earlier editions of the present book will form an
appropriate coda to this preface--"Frederic Francois Chopin," by Charles
Willeby; "Chopin, and Other Musical Essays," by Henry T. Finck; "Studies
in Modern Music" (containing an essay on Chopin), by W. H. Hadow;
"Chopin's Greater Works," by Jean Kleczynski, translated by Natalie
Janotha; and "Chopin: the Man and his Music," by James Huneker.

Edinburgh, February, 1902.




PROEM.




POLAND AND THE POLES.



THE works of no composer of equal importance bear so striking a national
impress as those of Chopin. It would, however, be an error to attribute
this simply and solely to the superior force of the Polish musician's
patriotism. The same force of patriotism in an Italian, Frenchman,
German, or Englishman would not have produced a similar result.
Characteristics such as distinguish Chopin's music presuppose a nation
as peculiarly endowed, constituted, situated, and conditioned, as the
Polish--a nation with a history as brilliant and dark, as fair and
hideous, as romantic and tragic. The peculiarities of the peoples
of western Europe have been considerably modified, if not entirely
levelled, by centuries of international intercourse; the peoples of the
eastern part of the Continent, on the other hand, have, until recent
times, kept theirs almost intact, foreign influences penetrating to no
depth, affecting indeed no more than the aristocratic few, and them only
superficially. At any rate, the Slavonic races have not been moulded by
the Germanic and Romanic races as these latter have moulded each other:
east and west remain still apart--strangers, if not enemies. Seeing how
deeply rooted Chopin's music is in the national soil, and considering
how little is generally known about Poland and the Poles, the necessity
of paying in this case more attention to the land of the artist's birth
and the people to which he belongs than is usually done in biographies
of artists, will be admitted by all who wish to understand fully and
appreciate rightly the poet-musician and his works. But while taking
note of what is of national origin in Chopin's music, we must be careful
not to ascribe to this origin too much. Indeed, the fact that the
personal individuality of Chopin is as markedly differentiated, as
exclusively self-contained, as the national individuality of Poland,
is oftener overlooked than the master's national descent and its
significance with regard to his artistic production. And now, having
made the reader acquainted with the raison d'etre of this proem, I shall
plunge without further preliminaries in medias res.

The palmy days of Poland came to an end soon after the extinction of
the dynasty of the Jagellons in 1572. So early as 1661 King John Casimir
warned the nobles, whose insubordination and want of solidity, whose
love of outside glitter and tumult, he deplored, that, unless they
remedied the existing evils, reformed their pretended free elections,
and renounced their personal privileges, the noble kingdom would become
the prey of other nations. Nor was this the first warning. The Jesuit
Peter Skarga (1536--1612), an indefatigable denunciator of the vices of
the ruling classes, told them in 1605 that their dissensions would bring
them under the yoke of those who hated them, deprive them of king and
country, drive them into exile, and make them despised by those
who formerly feared and respected them. But these warnings remained
unheeded, and the prophecies were fulfilled to the letter. Elective
kingship, pacta conventa, [Footnote: Terms which a candidate for the
throne had to subscribe on his election. They were of course dictated by
the electors--i.e., by the selfish interest of one class, the szlachta
(nobility), or rather the most powerful of them.] liberum veto,
[Footnote: The right of any member to stop the proceedings of the Diet
by pronouncing the words "Nie pozwalam" (I do not permit), or others of
the same import.] degradation of the burgher class, enslavement of
the peasantry, and other devices of an ever-encroaching nobility,
transformed the once powerful and flourishing commonwealth into one
"lying as if broken-backed on the public highway; a nation anarchic
every fibre of it, and under the feet and hoofs of travelling
neighbours." [Footnote: Thomas Carlyle, Frederick the Great, vol.
viii., p. 105.] In the rottenness of the social organism, venality,
unprincipled ambition, and religious intolerance found a congenial soil;
and favoured by and favouring foreign intrigues and interferences, they
bore deadly fruit--confederations, civil wars, Russian occupation of the
country and dominion over king, council, and diet, and the beginning of
the end, the first partition (1772) by which Poland lost a third of her
territory with five millions of inhabitants. Even worse, however, was
to come. For the partitioning powers--Russia, Prussia, and Austria--knew
how by bribes and threats to induce the Diet not only to sanction the
spoliation, but also so to alter the constitution as to enable them to
have a permanent influence over the internal affairs of the Republic.

The Pole Francis Grzymala remarks truly that if instead of some thousand
individuals swaying the destinies of Poland, the whole nation had
enjoyed equal rights, and, instead of being plunged in darkness and
ignorance, the people had been free and consequently capable of feeling
and thinking, the national cause, imperilled by the indolence and
perversity of one part of the citizens, would have been saved by those
who now looked on without giving a sign of life. The "some thousands"
here spoken of are of course the nobles, who had grasped all the
political power and almost all the wealth of the nation, and, imitating
the proud language of Louis XIV, could, without exaggeration, have said:
"L'etat c'est nous." As for the king and the commonalty, the one had
been deprived of almost all his prerogatives, and the other had become
a rightless rabble of wretched peasants, impoverished burghers, and
chaffering Jews. Rousseau, in his Considerations sur le gouvernement
de Pologne, says pithily that the three orders of which the Republic
of Poland was composed were not, as had been so often and illogically
stated, the equestrian order, the senate, and the king, but the nobles
who were everything, the burghers who were nothing, and the peasants
who were less than nothing. The nobility of Poland differed from that of
Other countries not only in its supreme political and social position,
but also in its numerousness, character, and internal constitution.

[Footnote: The statistics concerning old Poland are provokingly
contradictory. One authority calculates that the nobility comprised
120,000 families, or one fourteenth of the population (which, before
the first partition, is variously estimated at from fifteen to twenty
millions); another counts only 100,000 families; and a third states
that between 1788 and 1792 (i.e., after the first partition) there were
38,314 families of nobles.]

All nobles were equal in rank, and as every French soldier was said to
carry a marshal's staff in his knapsack, so every Polish noble was born
a candidate for the throne. This equality, however, was rather de jure
than de facto; legal decrees could not fill the chasm which separated
families distinguished by wealth and fame--such as the Sapiehas,
Radziwills, Czartoryskis, Zamoyskis, Potockis, and Branickis--from
obscure noblemen whose possessions amount to no more than "a few acres
of land, a sword, and a pair of moustaches that extend from one ear to
the other," or perhaps amounted only to the last two items. With some
insignificant exceptions, the land not belonging to the state or the
church was in the hands of the nobles, a few of whom had estates of
the extent of principalities. Many of the poorer amongst the nobility
attached themselves to their better-situated brethren, becoming their
dependents and willing tools. The relation of the nobility to the
peasantry is well characterised in a passage of Mickiewicz's epic poem
Pan Tadeusz, where a peasant, on humbly suggesting that the nobility
suffered less from the measures of their foreign rulers than his own
class, is told by one of his betters that this is a silly remark, seeing
that peasants, like eels, are accustomed to being skinned, whereas the
well-born are accustomed to live in liberty.

Nothing illustrates so well the condition of a people as the way in
which justice is administered. In Poland a nobleman was on his
estate prosecutor as well as judge, and could be arrested only after
conviction, or, in the case of high-treason, murder, and robbery, if
taken in the act. And whilst the nobleman enjoyed these high privileges,
the peasant had, as the law terms it, no facultatem standi in judicio,
and his testimony went for nothing in the courts of justice. More than
a hundred laws in the statutes of Poland are said to have been
unfavourable to these poor wretches. In short, the peasant was quite
at the mercy of the privileged class, and his master could do with him
pretty much as he liked, whipping and selling not excepted, nor did
killing cost more than a fine of a few shillings. The peasants on the
state domains and of the clergy were, however, somewhat better off; and
the burghers, too, enjoyed some shreds of their old privileges with more
or less security. If we look for a true and striking description of
the comparative position of the principal classes of the population of
Poland, we find it in these words of a writer of the eighteenth century:
"Polonia coelum nobilium, paradisus clericorum, infernus rusticorum."

The vast plain of Poland, although in many places boggy and sandy, is on
the whole fertile, especially in the flat river valleys, and in the east
at the sources of the Dnieper; indeed, it is so much so that it has been
called the granary of Europe. But as the pleasure-loving gentlemen had
nobler pursuits to attend to, and the miserable peasants, with whom it
was a saying that only what they spent in drink was their own, were not
very anxious to work more and better than they could help, agriculture
was in a very neglected condition. With manufacture and commerce it
stood not a whit better. What little there was, was in the hands of the
Jews and foreigners, the nobles not being allowed to meddle with such
base matters, and the degraded descendants of the industrious and
enterprising ancient burghers having neither the means nor the spirit to
undertake anything of the sort. Hence the strong contrast of wealth and
poverty, luxury and distress, that in every part of Poland, in town and
country, struck so forcibly and painfully all foreign travellers. Of the
Polish provinces that in 1773 came under Prussian rule we read that--

   the country people hardly knew such a thing as bread, many
   had never in their life tasted such a delicacy; few villages
   had an oven. A weaving-loom was rare; the spinning-wheel
   unknown. The main article of furniture, in this bare scene of
   squalor, was the crucifix and vessel of holy-water under
   it....It was a desolate land without discipline, without law,
   without a master. On 9,000 English square miles lived 500,000
   souls: not 55 to the square mile. [Footnote: Carlyle.
   Frederick the Great, vol. x., p. 40.]

And this poverty and squalor were not to be found only in one part of
Poland, they seem to have been general. Abbe de Mably when seeing, in
1771, the misery of the country (campagne) and the bad condition of the
roads, imagined himself in Tartary. William Coxe, the English historian
and writer of travels, who visited Poland after the first partition,
relates, in speaking of the district called Podlachia, that he visited
between Bjelsk and Woyszki villages in which there was nothing but the
bare walls, and he was told at the table of the ------ that knives,
forks, and spoons were conveniences unknown to the peasants. He says he
never saw--

   a road so barren of interesting scenes as that from Cracow to
   Warsaw--for the most part level, with little variation of
   surface; chiefly overspread with tracts of thick forest;
   where open, the distant horizon was always skirted with wood
   (chiefly pines and firs, intermixed with beech, birch, and
   small oaks). The occasional breaks presented some pasture-
   ground, with here and there a few meagre crops of corn. The
   natives were poorer, humbler, and more miserable than any
   people we had yet observed in the course of our travels:
   whenever we stopped they flocked around us in crowds; and,
   asking for charity, used the most abject gestures....The
   Polish peasants are cringing and servile in their expressions
   of respect; they bowed down to the ground; took off their
   hats or caps and held them in their hands till we were out of
   sight; stopped their carts on the first glimpse of our
   carriage; in short, their whole behaviour gave evident
   symptoms of the abject servitude under which they groaned.
   [FOOTNOTE: William Coxe, Travels in Poland, Russia, Sweden,
   and Denmark (1784--90).]

The Jews, to whom I have already more than once alluded, are too
important an element in the population of Poland not to be particularly
noticed. They are a people within a people, differing in dress as well
as in language, which is a jargon of German-Hebrew. Their number before
the first partition has been variously estimated at from less than
two millions to fully two millions and a half in a population of from
fifteen to twenty millions, and in 1860 there were in Russian Poland
612,098 Jews in a population of 4,867,124.

[FOOTNOTE: According to Charles Forster (in Pologne, a volume of the
historical series entitled L'univers pittoresque, published by Firmin
Didot freres of Paris), who follows Stanislas Plater, the population of
Poland within the boundaries of 1772 amounted to 20,220,000 inhabitants,
and was composed of 6,770,000 Poles, 7,520,000 Russians (i.e., White and
Red Russians), 2,110,000 Jews, 1,900,000 Lithuanians, 1,640,000 Germans,
180,000 Muscovites (i.e., Great Russians), and 100,000 Wallachians.]

   They monopolise [says Mr. Coxe] the commerce and trade of the
   country, keep inns and taverns, are stewards to the nobility,
   and seem to have so much influence that nothing can be bought
   or sold without the intervention of a Jew.

Our never-failing informant was particularly struck with the number and
usefulness of the Jews in Lithuania when he visited that part of the
Polish Republic in 1781--

   If you ask for an interpreter, they bring you a Jew; if you
   want post-horses, a Jew procures them and a Jew drives them;
   if you wish to purchase, a Jew is your agent; and this
   perhaps is the only country in Europe where Jews cultivate
   the ground; in passing through Lithuania, we frequently saw
   them engaged in sowing, reaping, mowing, and other works of
   husbandry.

Having considered the condition of the lower classes, we will now turn
our attention to that of the nobility. The very unequal distribution of
wealth among them has already been mentioned. Some idea of their mode of
life may be formed from the account of the Starost Krasinski's court in
the diary (year 1759) of his daughter, Frances Krasinska. [FOOTNOTE: A
starost (starosta) is the possessor of a starosty (starostwo)--i.e., a
castle and domains conferred on a nobleman for life by the crown.] Her
description of the household seems to justify her belief that there
were not many houses in Poland that surpassed theirs in magnificence.
In introducing to the reader the various ornaments and appendages of the
magnate's court, I shall mention first, giving precedence to the fair
sex, that there lived under the supervision of a French governess six
young ladies of noble families. The noblemen attached to the lord of the
castle were divided into three classes. In the first class were to be
found sons of wealthy, or, at least, well-to-do families who served
for honour, and came to the court to acquire good manners and as an
introduction to a civil or military career. The starost provided the
keep of their horses, and also paid weekly wages of two florins to their
grooms. Each of these noble-men had besides a groom another servant who
waited on his master at table, standing behind his chair and dining on
what he left on his plate. Those of the second class were paid for their
services and had fixed duties to perform. Their pay amounted to from
300 to 1,000 florins (a florin being about the value of sixpence), in
addition to which gratuities and presents were often given. Excepting
the chaplain, doctor, and secretary, they did not, like the preceding
class, have the honour of sitting with their master at table. With
regard to this privilege it is, however, worth noticing that those
courtiers who enjoyed it derived materially hardly any advantage from
it, for on week-days wine was served only to the family and their
guests, and the dishes of roast meat were arranged pyramidally, so
that fowl and venison went to those at the head of the table, and those
sitting farther down had to content themselves with the coarser kinds of
meat--with beef, pork, &c. The duties of the third class of followers,
a dozen young men from fifteen to twenty years of age, consisted
in accompanying the family on foot or on horseback, and doing their
messages, such as carrying presents and letters of invitation.
The second and third classes were under the jurisdiction of the
house-steward, who, in the case of the young gentlemen, was not sparing
in the application of the cat. A strict injunction was laid on all to
appear in good clothes. As to the other servants of the castle, the
authoress thought she would find it difficult to specify them; indeed,
did not know even the number of their musicians, cooks, Heyducs,
Cossacks, and serving maids and men. She knew, however, that every day
five tables were served, and that from morning to night two persons
were occupied in distributing the things necessary for the kitchen.
More impressive even than a circumstantial account like this are
briefly-stated facts such as the following: that the Palatine Stanislas
Jablonowski kept a retinue of 2,300 soldiers and 4,000 courtiers,
valets, armed attendants, huntsmen, falconers, fishers, musicians, and
actors; and that Janusz, Prince of Ostrog, left at his death a majorat
of eighty towns and boroughs, and 2,760 villages, without counting the
towns and villages of his starosties. The magnates who distinguished
themselves during the reign of Stanislas Augustus (1764--1795) by the
brilliance and magnificence of their courts were the Princes Czartoryski
and Radziwill, Count Potocki, and Bishop Soltyk of Cracovia. Our
often-quoted English traveller informs us that the revenue of Prince
Czartoryski amounted to nearly 100,000 pounds per annum, and that his
style of living corresponded with this income. The Prince kept an open
table at which there rarely sat down less than from twenty to thirty
persons. [FOOTNOTE: Another authority informs us that on great occasions
the Czartoryskis received at their table more than twenty thousand
persons.] The same informant has much to say about the elegance and
luxury of the Polish nobility in their houses and villas, in the
decoration and furniture of which he found the French and English styles
happily blended. He gives a glowing account of the fetes at which he
was present, and says that they were exquisitely refined and got up
regardless of expense.

Whatever changes the national character of the Poles has undergone in
the course of time, certain traits of it have remained unaltered, and
among these stands forth predominantly their chivalry. Polish bravery is
so universally recognised and admired that it is unnecessary to enlarge
upon it. For who has not heard at least of the victorious battle of
Czotzim, of the delivery of Vienna, of the no less glorious defeats of
Maciejowice and Ostrolenka, and of the brilliant deeds of Napoleon's
Polish Legion? And are not the names of Poland's most popular heroes,
Sobieski and Kosciuszko, household words all the world over? Moreover,
the Poles have proved their chivalry not only by their valour on the
battle-field, but also by their devotion to the fair sex. At banquets
in the good olden time it was no uncommon occurrence to see a Pole kneel
down before his lady, take off one of her shoes, and drink out of it.
But the women of Poland seem to be endowed with a peculiar power. Their
beauty, grace, and bewitching manner inflame the heart and imagination
of all that set their eyes on them. How often have they not conquered
the conquerors of their country? [FOOTNOTE: The Emperor Nicholas is
credited with the saying: "Je pourrais en finir des Polonais si je
venais a bout des Polonaises."] They remind Heine of the tenderest and
loveliest flowers that grow on the banks of the Ganges, and he calls for
the brush of Raphael, the melodies of Mozart, the language of Calderon,
so that he may conjure up before his readers an Aphrodite of the
Vistula. Liszt, bolder than Heine, makes the attempt to portray them,
and writes like an inspired poet. No Pole can speak on this subject
without being transported into a transcendental rapture that illumines
his countenance with a blissful radiance, and inspires him with a
glowing eloquence which, he thinks, is nevertheless beggared by the
matchless reality.

The French of the North--for thus the Poles have been called--are of a
very excitable nature; easily moved to anger, and easily appeased; soon
warmed into boundless enthusiasm, and soon also manifesting lack of
perseverance. They feel happiest in the turmoil of life and in the
bustle of society. Retirement and the study of books are little to
their taste. Yet, knowing how to make the most of their limited stock
of knowledge, they acquit themselves well in conversation. Indeed, they
have a natural aptitude for the social arts which insures their success
in society, where they move with ease and elegance. Their oriental
mellifluousness, hyperbolism, and obsequious politeness of speech have,
as well as the Asiatic appearance of their features and dress, been
noticed by all travellers in Poland. Love of show is another very
striking trait in the character of the Poles. It struggles to manifest
itself among the poor, causes the curious mixture of splendour and
shabbiness among the better-situated people, and gives rise to the
greatest extravagances among the wealthy. If we may believe the
chroniclers and poets, the entertainments of the Polish magnates must
have often vied with the marvellous feasts of imperial Rome. Of the
vastness of the households with which these grands seigneurs surrounded
themselves, enough has already been said. Perhaps the chief channel
through which this love of show vented itself was the decoration of man
and horse. The entrance of Polish ambassadors with their numerous
suites has more than once astonished the Parisians, who were certainly
accustomed to exhibitions of this kind. The mere description of some of
them is enough to dazzle one--the superb horses with their bridles and
stirrups of massive silver, and their caparisons and saddles embroidered
with golden flowers; and the not less superb men with their rich
garments of satin or gold cloth, adorned with rare furs, their bonnets
surmounted by bright plumes, and their weapons of artistic workmanship,
the silver scabbards inlaid with rubies. We hear also of ambassadors
riding through towns on horses loosely shod with gold or silver, so that
the horse-shoes lost on their passage might testify to their wealth
and grandeur. I shall quote some lines from a Polish poem in which the
author describes in detail the costume of an eminent nobleman in the
early part of this century:--

   He was clad in the uniform of the palatinate: a doublet
   embroidered with gold, an overcoat of Tours silk ornamented
   with fringes, a belt of brocade from which hung a sword with
   a hilt of morocco. At his neck glittered a clasp with
   diamonds. His square white cap was surmounted by a
   magnificent plume, composed of tufts of herons' feathers. It
   is only on festive occasions that such a rich bouquet, of
   which each feather costs a ducat, is put on.

The belt above mentioned was one of the most essential parts and the
chief ornament of the old Polish national dress, and those manufactured
at Sluck had especially a high reputation. A description of a belt of
Sluck, "with thick fringes like tufts," glows on another page of the
poem from which I took my last quotation:--

   On one side it is of gold with purple flowers; on the other
   it is of black silk with silver checks. Such a belt can be
   worn on either side: the part woven with gold for festive
   days; the reverse for days of mourning.

A vivid picture of the Polish character is to be found in Mickiewicz's
epic poem, Pan Tadeusz, from which the above quotations are taken.

[FOOTNOTE: I may mention here another interesting book illustrative
of Polish character and life, especially in the second half of the
eighteenth century, which has been of much use to me--namely, Count
Henry Rzewuski's Memoirs of Pan Severin Soplica, translated into German,
and furnished with an instructive preface by Philipp Lubenstein.]

He handles his pencil lovingly; proclaiming with just pride the virtues
of his countrymen, and revealing with a kindly smile their weaknesses.
In this truest, perhaps, of all the portraits that have ever been drawn
of the Poles, we see the gallantry and devotion, the generosity and
hospitality, the grace and liveliness in social intercourse, but also
the excitability and changefulness, the quickly inflamed enthusiasm and
sudden depression, the restlessness and turbulence, the love of outward
show and of the pleasures of society, the pompous pride, boastfulness,
and other little vanities, in short, all the qualities, good and
bad, that distinguish his countrymen. Heinrich Heine, not always a
trustworthy witness, but in this case so unusually serious that we
will take advantage of his acuteness and conciseness, characterises
the Polish nobleman by the following precious mosaic of adjectives:
"hospitable, proud, courageous, supple, false (this little yellow
stone must not be lacking), irritable, enthusiastic, given to gambling,
pleasure-loving, generous, and overbearing." Whether Heine was not
mistaken as to the presence of the little yellow stone is a question
that may have to be discussed in another part of this work. The observer
who, in enumerating the most striking qualities of the Polish character,
added "MISTRUSTFULNESS and SUSPICIOUSNESS engendered by many misfortunes
and often-disappointed hopes," came probably nearer the truth. And this
reminds me of a point which ought never to be left out of sight when
contemplating any one of these portraits--namely, the time at which it
was taken. This, of course, is always an important consideration; but it
is so in a higher degree in the case of a nation whose character, like
the Polish, has at different epochs of its existence assumed such varied
aspects. The first great change came over the national character on
the introduction of elective kingship: it was, at least so far as
the nobility was concerned, a change for the worse--from simplicity,
frugality, and patriotism, to pride, luxury, and selfishness; the second
great change was owing to the disasters that befell the nation in the
latter half of the last century: it was on the whole a change for the
better, purifying and ennobling, calling forth qualities that till then
had lain dormant. At the time the events I have to relate take us to
Poland, the nation is just at this last turning-point, but it has not
yet rounded it. To what an extent the bad qualities had overgrown
the good ones, corrupting and deadening them, may be gathered from
contemporary witnesses. George Forster, who was appointed professor
of natural history at Wilna in 1784, and remained in that position for
several years, says that he found in Poland "a medley of fanatical
and almost New Zealand barbarity and French super-refinement; a people
wholly ignorant and without taste, and nevertheless given to luxury,
gambling, fashion, and outward glitter."

Frederick II describes the Poles in language still more harsh; in his
opinion they are vain in fortune, cringing in misfortune, capable
of anything for the sake of money, spendthrifts, frivolous, without
judgment, always ready to join or abandon a party without cause. No
doubt there is much exaggeration in these statements; but that there
is also much truth in them, is proved by the accounts of many writers,
native and foreign, who cannot be accused of being prejudiced against
Poland. Rulhiere, and other more or less voluminous authorities, might
be quoted; but, not to try the patience of the reader too much, I shall
confine myself to transcribing a clenching remark of a Polish nobleman,
who told our old friend, the English traveller, that although the name
of Poland still remained, the nation no longer existed. "An universal
corruption and venality pervades all ranks of the people. Many of the
first nobility do not blush to receive pensions from foreign courts: one
professes himself publicly an Austrian, a second a Prussian, a third a
Frenchman, and a fourth a Russian."



CHAPTER I.



FREDERICK CHOPIN'S ANCESTORS.--HIS FATHER NICHOLAS CHOPIN'S BIRTH,
YOUTH, ARRIVAL AND EARLY VICISSITUDES IN POLAND, AND MARRIAGE.--BIRTH
AND EARLY INFANCY OF FREDERICK CHOPIN.--HIS PARENTS AND SISTERS.



GOETHE playfully describes himself as indebted to his father for
his frame and steady guidance of life, to his mother for his happy
disposition and love of story-telling, to his grandfather for his
devotion to the fair sex, to his grandmother for his love of finery.
Schopenhauer reduces the law of heredity to the simple formula that man
has his moral nature, his character, his inclinations, and his heart
from his father, and the quality and tendency of his intellect from his
mother. Buckle, on the other hand, questions hereditary transmission of
mental qualities altogether. Though little disposed to doubt with the
English historian, yet we may hesitate to assent to the proposition of
the German philosopher; the adoption of a more scientific doctrine,
one that recognises a process of compensation, neutralisation, and
accentuation, would probably bring us nearer the truth. But whatever the
complicated working of the law of heredity may be, there can be no doubt
that the tracing of a remarkable man's pedigree is always an interesting
and rarely an entirely idle occupation. Pursuing such an inquiry with
regard to Frederick Chopin, we find ourselves, however, soon at the end
of our tether. This is the more annoying, as there are circumstances
that particularly incite our curiosity. The "Journal de Rouen" of
December 1, 1849, contains an article, probably by Amedee de Mereaux, in
which it is stated that Frederick Chopin was descended from the French
family Chopin d'Arnouville, of which one member, a victim of the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes, had taken refuge in Poland.
[Footnote: In scanning the Moniteur of 1835, I came across several
prefects and sous-prefects of the name of Choppin d'Arnouville. (There
are two communes of the name of Arnouville, both are in the departement
of the Seine et Oise--the one in the arrondissement Mantes,
the other in the arrondissement Pontoise. This latter is called
Arnouville-les-Gonesse.) I noticed also a number of intimations
concerning plain Chopins and Choppins who served their country as maires
and army officers. Indeed, the name of Chopin is by no means uncommon in
France, and more than one individual of that name has illustrated it
by his achievements--to wit: The jurist Rene Chopin or Choppin
(1537--1606), the litterateur Chopin (born about 1800), and the poet
Charles-Auguste Chopin (1811--1844).] Although this confidently-advanced
statement is supported by the inscription on the composer's tombstone in
Pere Lachaise, which describes his father as a French refugee, both the
Catholicism of the latter and contradictory accounts of his extraction
caution us not to put too much faith in its authenticity. M. A. Szulc,
the author of a Polish book on Chopin and his works, has been told
that Nicholas Chopin, the father of Frederick, was the natural son of
a Polish nobleman, who, having come with King Stanislas Leszczynski to
Lorraine, adopted there the name of Chopin. From Karasowski we learn
nothing of Nicholas Chopin's parentage. But as he was a friend of the
Chopin family, and from them got much of his information, this silence
might with equal force be adduced for and against the correctness of
Szulc's story, which in itself is nowise improbable. The only point that
could strike one as strange is the change of name. But would not the
death of the Polish ruler and the consequent lapse of Lorraine to France
afford some inducement for the discarding of an unpronounceable foreign
name? It must, however, not be overlooked that this story is but a
hearsay, relegated to a modest foot-note, and put forward without
mention of the source whence it is derived. [FOOTNOTE: Count Wodzinski,
who leaves Nicholas Chopin's descent an open question, mentions a
variant of Szulc's story, saying that some biographers pretended that
Nicholas Chopin was descended from one of the name of Szop, a soldier,
valet, or heyduc (reitre, valet, ou heiduque) in the service of
Stanislas Leszczinski, whom he followed to Lorraine.] Indeed, until we
get possession of indisputable proofs, it will be advisable to disregard
these more or less fabulous reports altogether, and begin with the first
well-ascertained fact--namely, Nicholas Chopin's birth, which took place
at Nancy, in Lorraine, on the 17th of August, 1770. Of his youth nothing
is known except that, like other young men of his country, he conceived
a desire to visit Poland. Polish descent would furnish a satisfactory
explanation of Nicholas' sentiments in regard to Poland at this time
and subsequently, but an equally satisfactory explanation can be found
without having recourse to such a hazardous assumption.

In 1735 Stanislas Leszczynski, who had been King of Poland from 1704 to
1709, became Duke of Lorraine and Bar, and reigned over the Duchies till
1766, when an accident--some part of his dress taking fire--put an end
to his existence. As Stanislas was a wise, kind-hearted, and benevolent
prince, his subjects not only loved him as long as he lived, but also
cherished his memory after his death, when their country had been united
to France. The young, we may be sure, would often hear their elders
speak of the good times of Duke Stanislas, of the Duke (the philosophe
bienfaisant) himself, and of the strange land and people he came from.
But Stanislas, besides being an excellent prince, was also an amiable,
generous gentleman, who, whilst paying due attention to the well-being
of his new subjects, remained to the end of his days a true Pole. From
this circumstance it may be easily inferred that the Court of Stanislas
proved a great attraction to his countrymen, and that Nancy became a
chief halting-place of Polish travellers on their way to and from Paris.
Of course, not all the Poles that had settled in the Duchies during the
Duke's reign left the country after his demise, nor did their friends
from the fatherland altogether cease to visit them in their new home.
Thus a connection between the two countries was kept up, and the
interest taken by the people of the west in the fortunes of the people
in the east was not allowed to die. Moreover, were not the Academie de
Stanislas founded by the Duke, the monument erected to his memory, and
the square named after him, perpetual reminders to the inhabitants of
Nancy and the visitors to that town?

Nicholas Chopin came to Warsaw in or about the year 1787. Karasowski
relates in the first and the second German edition of his biography of
Frederick Chopin that the Staroscina [FOOTNOTE: The wife of a starosta
(vide p. 7.)] Laczynska made the acquaintance of the latter's father,
and engaged him as tutor to her children; but in the later Polish
edition he abandons this account in favour of one given by Count
Frederick Skarbek in his Pamietniki (Memoirs). According to this most
trustworthy of procurable witnesses (why he is the most trustworthy will
be seen presently), Nicholas Chopin's migration to Poland came about
in this way. A Frenchman had established in Warsaw a manufactory of
tobacco, which, as the taking of snuff was then becoming more and more
the fashion, began to flourish in so high a degree that he felt the
need of assistance. He proposed, therefore, to his countryman, Nicholas
Chopin, to come to him and take in hand the book-keeping, a proposal
which was readily accepted.

The first impression of the young Lorrainer on entering the land of
his dreams cannot have been altogether of a pleasant nature. For in the
summer of 1812, when, we are told, the condition of the people had been
infinitely ameliorated by the Prussian and Russian governments, M.
de Pradt, Napoleon's ambassador, found the nation in a state of
semi-barbarity, agriculture in its infancy, the soil parched like a
desert, the animals stunted, the people, although of good stature, in
a state of extreme poverty, the towns built of wood, the houses filled
with vermin, and the food revolting. This picture will not escape
the suspicion of being overdrawn. But J.G. Seume, who was by no means
over-squeamish, and whom experience had taught the meaning of "to rough
it," asserts, in speaking of Poland in 1805, that, Warsaw and a few
other places excepted, the dunghill was in most houses literally and
without exaggeration the cleanest spot, and the only one where one could
stand without loathing. But if the general aspect of things left much
to be desired from a utilitarian point of view, its strangeness and
picturesqueness would not fail to compensate an imaginative youth
for the want of order and comfort. The strong contrast of wealth and
poverty, of luxury and distress, that gave to the whole country so
melancholy an appearance, was, as it were, focussed in its capital.
Mr. Coxe, who visited Warsaw not long before Nicholas Chopin's arrival
there, says:--

   The streets are spacious, but ill-paved; the churches and
   public buildings large and magnificent, the palaces of the
   nobility are numerous and splendid; but the greatest part of
   the houses, especially the suburbs, are mean and ill-
   constructed wooden hovels.

What, however, struck a stranger most, was the throngs of humanity that
enlivened the streets and squares of Warsaw, the capital of a nation
composed of a medley of Poles, Lithuanians, Red and White Russians,
Germans, Muscovites, Jews, and Wallachians, and the residence of a
numerous temporary and permanent foreign population. How our friend from
quiet Nancy--which long ago had been deserted by royalty and its train,
and where literary luminaries, such as Voltaire, Madame du Chatelet,
Saint Lambert, &c., had ceased to make their fitful appearances--must
have opened his eyes when this varied spectacle unfolded itself before
him.

   The streets of stately breadth, formed of palaces in the
   finest Italian taste and wooden huts which at every moment
   threatened to tumble down on the heads of the inmates; in
   these buildings Asiatic pomp and Greenland dirtin strange
   union, an ever-bustling population,      forming, like a
   masked procession, the most striking contrasts. Long-bearded
   Jews, and monks in all kinds of habits; nuns of the strictest
   discipline, entirely veiled and wrapped in meditation; and in
   the large squares troops of young Polesses in light-coloured
   silk mantles engaged in conversation; venerable old Polish
   gentlemen with moustaches, caftan, girdle, sword, and yellow
   and red boots; and the new generation in the most incroyable
   Parisian fashion. Turks, Greeks, Russians, Italians, and
   French in an ever-changing throng; moreover, an exceedingly
   tolerant police that interfered nowise with the popular
   amusements, so that in squares and streets there moved about
   incessantly Pulchinella theatres, dancing bears, camels, and
   monkeys, before which the most elegant carriages as well as
   porters stopped and stood gaping.

Thus pictures J. E. Hitzig, the biographer of E. Th. A. Hoffmann, and
himself a sojourner in Warsaw, the life of the Polish capital in 1807.
When Nicholas Chopin saw it first the spectacle in the streets was even
more stirring, varied, and brilliant; for then Warsaw was still the
capital of an independent state, and the pending and impending political
affairs brought to it magnates from all the principal courts of Europe,
who vied with each other in the splendour of their carriages and horses,
and in the number and equipment of their attendants.

In the introductory part of this work I have spoken of the misfortunes
that befel Poland and culminated in the first partition. But the
buoyancy of the Polish character helped the nation to recover sooner
from this severe blow than could have been expected. Before long
patriots began to hope that the national disaster might be turned into
a blessing. Many circumstances favoured the realisation of these hopes.
Prussia, on discovering that her interests no longer coincided with
those of her partners of 1772, changed sides, and by-and-by even went
the length of concluding a defensive and offensive alliance with the
Polish Republic. She, with England and other governments, backed Poland
against Russia and Austria. Russia, moreover, had to turn her attention
elsewhere. At the time of Nicholas Chopin's arrival, Poland was dreaming
of a renascence of her former greatness, and everyone was looking
forward with impatience to the assembly of the Diet which was to meet
the following year. Predisposed by sympathy, he was soon drawn into
the current of excitement and enthusiasm that was surging around him.
Indeed, what young soul possessed of any nobleness could look with
indifference on a nation struggling for liberty and independence. As he
took a great interest in the debates and transactions of the Diet, he
became more and more acquainted with the history, character, condition,
and needs of the country, and this stimulated him to apply himself
assiduously to the study of the national language, in order to increase,
by means of this faithful mirror and interpreter of a people's heart and
mind, his knowledge of these things. And now I must ask the reader to
bear patiently the infliction of a brief historical summary, which
I would most willingly spare him, were I not prevented by two strong
reasons. In the first place, the vicissitudes of Nicholas Chopin's
early life in Poland are so closely bound up with, or rather so much
influenced by, the political events, that an intelligible account of
the former cannot be given without referring to the latter; and in the
second place, those same political events are such important factors in
the moulding of the national character, that, if we wish to understand
it, they ought not to be overlooked.

The Diet which assembled at the end of 1788, in order to prevent the
use or rather abuse of the liberum veto, soon formed itself into a
confederation, abolished in 1789 the obnoxious Permanent Council,
and decreed in 1791, after much patriotic oratory and unpatriotic
obstruction, the famous constitution of the 3rd of May, regarded by the
Poles up to this day with loving pride, and admired and praised at the
time by sovereigns and statesmen, Fox and Burke among them. Although
confirming most of the privileges of the nobles, the constitution
nevertheless bore in it seeds of good promise. Thus, for instance, the
crown was to pass after the death of the reigning king to the Elector
of Saxony, and become thenceforth hereditary; greater power was given
to the king and ministers, confederations and the liberum veto were
declared illegal, the administration of justice was ameliorated, and
some attention was paid to the rights and wrongs of the third estate and
peasantry. But the patriots who already rejoiced in the prospect of a
renewal of Polish greatness and prosperity had counted without the proud
selfish aristocrats, without Russia, always ready to sow and nurture
discord. Hence new troubles--the confederation of Targowica, Russian
demands for the repeal of the constitution and unconditional submission
to the Empress Catharine II, betrayal by Prussia, invasion, war,
desertion of the national cause by their own king and his joining the
conspirators of Targowica, and then the second partition of Poland
(October 14, 1793), implying a further loss of territory and population.
Now, indeed, the events were hastening towards the end of the sad drama,
the finis poloniae. After much hypocritical verbiage and cruel coercion
and oppression by Russia and Prussia, more especially by the former,
outraged Poland rose to free itself from the galling yoke, and fought
under the noble Kosciuszko and other gallant generals with a bravery
that will for ever live in the memory of men. But however glorious the
attempt, it was vain. Having three such powers as Russia, Prussia,
and Austria against her, Poland, unsupported by allies and otherwise
hampered, was too weak to hold her own. Without inquiring into the
causes and the faults committed by her commanders, without dwelling on
or even enumerating the vicissitudes of the struggle, I shall pass on
to the terrible closing scene of the drama--the siege and fall of Praga,
the suburb of Warsaw, and the subsequent massacre. The third partition
(October 24, 1795), in which each of the three powers took her share,
followed as a natural consequence, and Poland ceased to exist as an
independent state. Not, however, for ever; for when in 1807 Napoleon,
after crushing Prussia and defeating Russia, recast at Tilsit to a great
extent the political conformation of Europe, bullying King Frederick
William III and flattering the Emperor Alexander, he created the Grand
Duchy of Warsaw, over which he placed as ruler the then King of Saxony.

Now let us see how Nicholas Chopin fared while these whirlwinds passed
over Poland. The threatening political situation and the consequent
general insecurity made themselves at once felt in trade, indeed soon
paralysed it. What more particularly told on the business in which the
young Lorrainer was engaged was the King's desertion of the national
cause, which induced the great and wealthy to leave Warsaw and betake
themselves for shelter to more retired and safer places. Indeed, so
disastrous was the effect of these occurrences on the Frenchman's
tobacco manufactory that it had to be closed. In these circumstances
Nicholas Chopin naturally thought of returning home, but sickness
detained him. When he had recovered his health, Poland was rising under
Kosciuszko. He then joined the national guard, in which he was before
long promoted to the rank of captain. On the 5th of November, 1794, he
was on duty at Praga, and had not his company been relieved a few hours
before the fall of the suburb, he would certainly have met there his
death. Seeing that all was lost he again turned his thoughts homewards,
when once more sickness prevented him from executing his intention.
For a time he tried to make a living by teaching French, but ere long
accepted an engagement as tutor in the family--then living in the
country--of the Staroscina Laczynska, who meeting him by chance had been
favourably impressed by his manners and accomplishments. In passing we
may note that among his four pupils (two girls and two boys) was one,
Mary, who afterwards became notorious by her connection with Napoleon
I., and by the son that sprang from this connection, Count Walewski,
the minister of Napoleon III. At the beginning of this century we find
Nicholas Chopin at Zelazowa Wola, near Sochaczew, in the house of the
Countess Skarbek, as tutor to her son Frederick. It was there that he
made the acquaintance of Justina Krzyzanowska, a young lady of noble but
poor family, whom he married in the year 1806, and who became the mother
of four children, three daughters and one son, the latter being no other
than Frederick Chopin, the subject of this biography. The position of
Nicholas Chopin in the house of the Countess must have been a pleasant
one, for ever after there seems to have existed a friendly relation
between the two families. His pupil, Count Frederick Skarbek, who
prosecuted his studies at Warsaw and Paris, distinguished himself
subsequently as a poet, man of science, professor at the University
of Warsaw, state official, philanthropist, and many-sided author--more
especially as a politico--economical writer. When in his Memoirs the
Count looks back on his youth, he remembers gratefully and with respect
his tutor, speaking of him in highly appreciative terms. In teaching,
Nicholas Chopin's chief aim was to form his pupils into useful,
patriotic citizens; nothing was farther from his mind than the desire or
unconscious tendency to turn them into Frenchmen. And now approaches the
time when the principal personage makes his appearance on the stage.

Frederick Chopin, the only son and the third of the four children of
Nicholas and Justina Chopin, was born on February 22, 1810,

[FOOTNOTE: See Preface, p. xii. In the earlier editions the date given
was March 1,1809, as in the biography by Karasowski, with whom agree
the earlier J. Fontana (Preface to Chopin's posthumous works.--1855),
C. Sowinski (Les musiciens polonais et slaves.--1857), and the writer
of the Chopin article in Mendel's Musikalisches Conversations-Lexikon
(1872). According to M. A. Szulc (Fryderyk Chopin.--1873) and the
inscription on the memorial (erected in 1880) in the Holy Cross Church
at Warsaw, the composer was born on March 2, 1809. The monument in Pere
Lachaise, at Paris, bears the date of Chopin's death, but not that of
his birth. Felis, in his Biographie universelle des musiciens, differs
widely from these authorities. The first edition (1835--1844) has
only the year--1810; the second edition (1861--1865) adds month and
day--February 8.]

in a mean little house at Zelazowa Wola, a village about twenty-eight
English miles from Warsaw belonging to the Countess Skarbek.

[FOOTNOTE: Count Wodzinski, after indicating the general features of
Polish villages--the dwor (manor-house) surrounded by a "bouquet of
trees"; the barns and stables forming a square with a well in the
centre; the roads planted with poplars and bordered with thatched huts;
the rye, wheat, rape, and clover fields, &c.--describes the birthplace
of Frederick Chopin as follows: "I have seen there the same dwor
embosomed in trees, the same outhouses, the same huts, the same plains
where here and there a wild pear-tree throws its shadow. Some steps from
the mansion I stopped before a little cot with a slated roof, flanked
by a little wooden perron. Nothing has been changed for nearly a hundred
years. A dark passage traverses it. On the left, in a room illuminated
by the reddish flame of slowly-consumed logs, or by the uncertain
light of two candles placed at each extremity of the long table,
the maid-servants spin as in olden times, and relate to each other a
thousand marvellous legends. On the right, in a lodging of three rooms,
so low that one can touch the ceiling, a man of some thirty years,
brown, with vivacious eyes, the face closely shaven." This man was
of course Nicholas Chopin. I need hardly say that Count Wodzinski's
description is novelistically tricked out. His accuracy may be judged
by the fact that a few pages after the above passage he speaks of the
discoloured tiles of the roof which he told his readers before was of
slate.]

The son of the latter, Count Frederick Skarbek, Nicholas Chopin's pupil,
a young man of seventeen, stood godfather and gave his name to the
new-born offspring of his tutor. Little Frederick's residence at the
village cannot have been of long duration.

The establishment of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw in 1807 had ushered in a
time big with chances for a capable man, and we may be sure that a
young husband and father, no doubt already on the look-out for some more
lucrative and independent employment, was determined not to miss them.
Few peaceful revolutions, if any, can compare in thoroughness with the
one that then took place in Poland; a new sovereign ascended the throne,
two differently-constituted representative bodies superseded the old
Senate and Diet, the French code of laws was introduced, the army and
civil service underwent a complete re-organisation, public instruction
obtained a long-needed attention, and so forth. To give an idea of the
extent of the improvement effected in matters of education, it is enough
to mention that the number of schools rose from 140 to 634, and that
a commission was formed for the publication of suitable books of
instruction in the Polish language. Nicholas Chopin's hopes were not
frustrated; for on October 1, 1810, he was appointed professor of the
French language at the newly-founded Lyceum in Warsaw, and a little more
than a year after, on January 1, 1812, to a similar post at the School
of Artillery and Engineering.

The exact date when Nicholas Chopin and his family settled in Warsaw is
not known, nor is it of any consequence. We may, however, safely assume
that about this time little Frederick was an inhabitant of the Polish
metropolis. During the first years of his life the parents may
have lived in somewhat straitened circumstances. The salary of the
professorship, even if regularly paid, would hardly suffice for a family
to live comfortably, and the time was unfavourable for gaining much by
private tuition. M. de Pradt, describing Poland in 1812, says:--

   Nothing could exceed the misery of all classes. The army was
   not paid, the officers were in rags, the best houses were in
   ruins, the greatest lords were compelled to leave Warsaw from
   want of money to provide for their tables. No pleasures, no
   society, no invitations as in Paris and in London. I even saw
   princesses quit Warsaw from the most extreme distress. The
   Princess Radziwill had brought two women from England and
   France, she wished to send them back, but had to keep them
   because she was unable to pay their salaries and travelling
   expenses. I saw in Warsaw two French physicians who informed
   me that they could not procure their fees even from the
   greatest lords.

But whatever straits the parents may have been put to, the weak,
helpless infant would lack none of the necessaries of life, and enjoy
all the reasonable comforts of his age.

When in 1815 peace was restored and a period of quiet followed, the
family must have lived in easy circumstances; for besides holding
appointments as professor at some public schools (under the Russian
government he became also one of the staff of teachers at the Military
Preparatory School), Nicholas Chopin kept for a number of years a
boarding-school, which was patronised by the best families of the
country. The supposed poverty of Chopin's parents has given rise to all
sorts of misconceptions and misstatements. A writer in Larousse's
"Grand dictionnaire universel du XIXe siecle" even builds on it a
theory explanatory of the character of Chopin and his music: "Sa famille
d'origine francaise," he writes, "jouissait d'une mediocre fortune; de
la, peut-etre, certains froissements dans l'organisation nerveuse et
la vive sensibilite de l'enfant, sentiments qui devaient plus tard
se refleter dans ses oeuvres, empreintes generalement d'une profonde
melancolie." If the writer of the article in question had gone a little
farther back, he might have found a sounder basis for his theory in the
extremely delicate physical organisation of the man, whose sensitiveness
was so acute that in early infancy he could not hear music without
crying, and resisted almost all attempts at appeasing him.

The last-mentioned fact, curious and really noteworthy in itself,
acquires a certain preciousness by its being the only one transmitted
to us of that period of Chopin's existence. But this scantiness of
information need not cause us much regret. During the first years of a
man's life biography is chiefly concerned with his surroundings, with
the agencies that train his faculties and mould his character. A
man's acts and opinions are interesting in proportion to the degree of
consolidation attained by his individuality. Fortunately our material is
abundant enough to enable us to reconstruct in some measure the milieu
into which Chopin was born and in which he grew up. We will begin with
that first circle which surrounds the child--his family. The negative
advantages which our Frederick found there--the absence of the
privations and hardships of poverty, with their depressing and often
demoralising influence--have already been adverted to; now I must say a
few words about the positive advantages with which he was favoured.
And it may be at once stated that they cannot be estimated too highly.
Frederick enjoyed the greatest of blessings that can be bestowed upon
mortal man--viz., that of being born into a virtuous and well-educated
family united by the ties of love. I call it the greatest of blessings,
because neither catechism and sermons nor schools and colleges can take
the place,, or compensate for the want, of this education that does not
stop at the outside, but by its subtle, continuous action penetrates to
the very heart's core and pervades the whole being. The atmosphere in
which Frederick lived was not only moral and social, but also distinctly
intellectual.

The father, Nicholas Chopin, seems to have been a man of worth and
culture, honest of purpose, charitable in judgment, attentive to duty,
and endowed with a good share of prudence and commonsense. In support of
this characterisation may be advanced that among his friends he counted
many men of distinction in literature, science, and art; that between
him and the parents of his pupils as well as the pupils themselves there
existed a friendly relation; that he was on intimate terms with several
of his colleagues; and that his children not only loved, but also
respected him. No one who reads his son's letters, which indeed give us
some striking glimpses of the man, can fail to notice this last point.
On one occasion, when confessing that he had gone to a certain dinner
two hours later than he had been asked, Frederick foresees his father's
anger at the disregard for what is owing to others, and especially
to one's elders; and on another occasion he makes excuses for his
indifference to non-musical matters, which, he thinks, his father will
blame. And mark, these letters were written after Chopin had attained
manhood. What testifies to Nicholas Chopin's, abilities as a teacher and
steadiness as a man, is the unshaken confidence of the government: he
continued in his position at the Lyceumtill after the revolution in
1831, when this institution, like many others, was closed; he was then
appointed a member of the board for the examination of candidates for
situations as schoolmasters, and somewhat later he became professor of
the French language at the Academy of the Roman Catholic Clergy.

It is more difficult, or rather it is impossible, to form anything like
a clear picture of his wife, Justina Chopin. None of those of her son's
letters that are preserved is addressed to her, and in those addressed
to the members of the family conjointly, or to friends, nothing occurs
that brings her nearer to us, or gives a clue to her character. George
Sand said that she was Chopin's only passion. Karasowski describes
her as "particularly tender-hearted and rich in all the truly womanly
virtues.....For her quietness and homeliness were the greatest
happiness." K. W. Wojcicki, in "Cmentarz Powazkowski" (Powazki
Cemetery), expresses, himself in the same strain. A Scotch lady, who had
seen Justina Chopin in her old age, and conversed with her in French,
told me that she was then "a neat, quiet, intelligent old lady, whose
activeness contrasted strongly with the languor of her son, who had
not a shadow of energy in him." With regard to the latter part of this
account, we must not overlook the fact that my informant knew Chopin
only in the last year of his life--i.e., when he was in a very suffering
state of mind and body. This is all the information I have been able to
collect regarding the character of Chopin's mother. Moreover, Karasowski
is not an altogether trustworthy informant; as a friend of the Chopin
family he sees in its members so many paragons of intellectual and moral
perfection. He proceeds on the de mortuis nil nisi bonum principle,
which I venture to suggest is a very bad principle. Let us apply this
loving tenderness to our living neighbours, and judge the dead according
to their merits. Thus the living will be doubly benefited, and no harm
be done to the dead. Still, the evidence before us--including that
exclamation about his "best of mothers" in one of Chopin's letters,
written from Vienna, soon after the outbreak of the Polish
insurrection in 1830: "How glad my mamma will be that I did not come
back!"--justifies us, I think, in inferring that Justina Chopin was a
woman of the most lovable type, one in whom the central principle of
existence was the maternal instinct, that bright ray of light which,
dispersed in its action, displays itself in the most varied and lovely
colours. That this principle, although often all-absorbing, is not
incompatible with the wider and higher social and intellectual interests
is a proposition that does not stand in need of proof. But who could
describe that wondrous blending of loving strength and lovable weakness
of a true woman's character? You feel its beauty and sublimity, and if
you attempt to give words to your feeling you produce a caricature.

The three sisters of Frederick all manifested more or less a taste
for literature. The two elder sisters, Louisa (who married Professor
Jedrzejewicz, and died in 1855) and Isabella (who married Anton
Barcinski--first inspector of schools, and subsequently director of
steam navigation on the Vistula--and died in 1881), wrote together for
the improvement of the working classes. The former contributed now and
then, also after her marriage, articles to periodicals on the education
of the young. Emilia, the youngest sister, who died at the early age of
fourteen (in 1827), translated, conjointly with her sister Isabella,
the educational tales of the German author Salzmann, and her poetical
efforts held out much promise for the future.



CHAPTER II



FREDERICK'S FIRST MUSICAL INSTRUCTION AND MUSIC-MASTER, ADALBERT
ZYWNY.--HIS DEBUT AND SUCCESS AS A PIANIST.--HIS EARLY INTRODUCTION INTO
ARISTOCRATIC SOCIETY AND CONSTANT INTERCOURSE WITH THE ARISTOCRACY.--HIS
FIRST COMPOSITIONS.--HIS STUDIES AND MASTER IN HARMONY, COUNTERPOINT,
AND COMPOSITION, JOSEPH ELSNER.



OUR little friend, who, as we have seen, at first took up a hostile
attitude towards music--for his passionate utterances, albeit
inarticulate, cannot well be interpreted as expressions of satisfaction
or approval--came before long under her mighty sway. The pianoforte
threw a spell over him, and, attracting him more and more, inspired
him with such a fondness as to induce his parents to provide him,
notwithstanding his tender age, with an instructor. To lessen the
awfulness of the proceeding, it was arranged that one of the elder
sisters should join him in his lessons. The first and only pianoforte
teacher of him who in the course of time became one of the greatest and
most original masters of this instrument, deserves some attention from
us. Adalbert Zywny [FOOTNOTE: This is the usual spelling of the name,
which, as the reader will see further on, its possessor wrote Ziwny.
Liszt calls him Zywna.], a native of Bohemia, born in 1756, came to
Poland, according to Albert Sowinski (Les musiciens polonais et slaves),
during the reign of Stanislas Augustus Poniatowski (1764--1795), and
after staying for some time as pianist at the court of Prince Casimir
Sapieha, settled in Warsaw as a teacher of music, and soon got into good
practice, "giving his lessons at three florins (eighteen pence) per hour
very regularly, and making a fortune." And thus teaching and composing
(he is said to have composed much for the pianoforte, but he never
published anything), he lived a long and useful life, dying in 1842 at
the age of 86 (Karasowski says in 1840). The punctual and, no doubt,
also somewhat pedantic music-master who acquired the esteem and goodwill
of his patrons, the best families of Warsaw, and a fortune at the same
time, is a pleasant figure to contemplate. The honest orderliness and
dignified calmness of his life, as I read it, are quite refreshing in
this time of rush and gush. Having seen a letter of his, I can imagine
the heaps of original MSS., clearly and neatly penned with a firm
hand, lying carefully packed up in spacious drawers, or piled up on
well-dusted shelves. Of the man Zywny and his relation to the Chopin
family we get some glimpses in Frederick's letters. In one of the year
1828, addressed to his friend Titus Woyciechowski, he writes: "With us
things are as they used to be; the honest Zywny is the soul of all our
amusements." Sowinski informs us that Zywny taught his pupil according
to the classical German method--whatever that may mean--at that time in
use in Poland. Liszt, who calls him "an enthusiastic student of Bach,"
speaks likewise of "les errements d'une ecole entierement classique."
Now imagine my astonishment when on asking the well-known pianoforte
player and composer Edouard Wolff, a native of Warsaw, [Fooynote: He
died at Paris on October 16, 1880.] what kind of pianist Zywny was,
I received the answer that he was a violinist and not a pianist.
That Wolff and Zywny knew each other is proved beyond doubt by the
above-mentioned letter of Zywny's, introducing the former to Chopin,
then resident in Paris. The solution of the riddle is probably this.
Zywny, whether violinist or not, was not a pianoforte virtuoso--at
least, was not heard in public in his old age. The mention of a single
name, that of Wenzel W. Wurfel, certainly shows that he was not the best
pianist in Warsaw. But against any such depreciatory remarks we have
to set Chopin's high opinion of Zywny's teaching capability. Zywny's
letter, already twice alluded to, is worth quoting. It still further
illustrates the relation in which master and pupil stood to each other,
and by bringing us in close contact with the former makes us better
acquainted with his character. A particularly curious fact about the
letter--considering the nationality of the persons concerned--is its
being written in German. Only a fac-simile of the original, with its
clear, firm, though (owing to the writer's old age) cramped penmanship,
and its quaint spelling and capricious use of capital and small
initials, could fully reveal the expressiveness of this document.
However, even in the translation there may be found some of the man's
characteristic old-fashioned formality, grave benevolence, and quiet
homeliness. The outside of the sheet on which the letter is written
bears the words, "From the old music-master Adalbert Ziwny [at least
this I take to be the meaning of the seven letters followed by dots],
kindly to be transmitted to my best friend, Mr. Frederick Chopin, in
Paris." The letter itself runs as follows:--

   DEAREST MR. F. CHOPIN,--Wishing you perfect health I have the
   honour to write to you through Mr. Eduard Wolf. [FOOTNOTE:
   The language of the first sentence is neither logical nor
   otherwise precise. I shall keep throughout as close as
   possible to the original, and also retain the peculiar
   spelling of proper names.] I recommend him to your esteemed
   friendship. Your whole family and I had also the pleasure of
   hearing at his concert the Adagio and Rondo from your
   Concerto, which called up in our minds the most agreeable
   remembrance of you. May God give you every prosperity! We are
   all well, and wish so much to see you again. Meanwhile I send
   you through Mr. Wolf my heartiest kiss, and recommending
   myself to your esteemed friendship, I remain your faithful
   friend,

   ADALBERT ZIWNY.

   Warsaw, the 12th of June, 1835.

   N.B.--Mr. Kirkow, the merchant, and his son George, who was
   at Mr. Reinschmid's at your farewell party, recommend
   themselves to you, and wish you good health. Adieu.

Julius Fontana, the friend and companion of Frederick, after stating (in
his preface to Chopin's posthumous works) that Chopin had never another
pianoforte teacher than Zywny, observes that the latter taught his
pupil only the first principles. "The progress of the child was so
extraordinary that his parents and his professor thought they could do
no better than abandon him at the age of 12 to his own instincts, and
follow instead of directing him." The progress of Frederick must indeed
have been considerable, for in Clementina Tanska-Hofmanowa's Pamiatka po
dobrej matce (Memorial of a good Mother) [FOOTNOTE: Published in 1819.]
the writer relates that she was at a soiree at Gr----'s, where she found
a numerous party assembled, and heard in the course of the evening young
Chopin play the piano--"a child not yet eight years old, who, in the
opinion of the connoisseurs of the art, promises to replace Mozart."
Before the boy had completed his ninth year his talents were already so
favourably known that he was invited to take part in a concert which was
got up by several persons of high rank for the benefit of the poor. The
bearer of the invitation was no less a person than Ursin Niemcewicz, the
publicist, poet, dramatist, and statesman, one of the most remarkable
and influential men of the Poland of that day. At this concert, which
took place on February 24, 1818, the young virtuoso played a concerto
by Adalbert Gyrowetz, a composer once celebrated, but now ignominiously
shelved--sic transit gloria mundi--and one of Riehl's "divine
Philistines." An anecdote shows that at that time Frederick was neither
an intellectual prodigy nor a conceited puppy, but a naive, modest child
that played the pianoforte, as birds sing, with unconscious art. When
he came home after the concert, for which of course he had been arrayed
most splendidly and to his own great satisfaction, his mother said to
him: "Well, Fred, what did the public like best?"--"Oh, mamma," replied
the little innocent, "everybody was looking at my collar."

The debut was a complete success, and our Frederick--Chopinek
(diminutive of Chopin) they called him--became more than ever the pet of
the aristocracy of Warsaw. He was invited to the houses of the Princes
Czartoryski, Sapieha, Czetwertynski, Lubecki, Radziwill, the Counts
Skarbek, Wolicki, Pruszak, Hussarzewski, Lempicki, and others. By the
Princess Czetwertynska, who, says Liszt, cultivated music with a true
feeling of its beauties, and whose salon was one of the most brilliant
and select of Warsaw, Frederick was introduced to the Princess Lowicka,
the beautiful Polish wife of the Grand Duke Constantine, who, as
Countess Johanna Antonia Grudzinska, had so charmed the latter that,
in order to obtain the Emperor's consent to his marriage with her, he
abdicated his right of succession to the throne. The way in which
she exerted her influence over her brutal, eccentric, if not insane,
husband, who at once loved and maltreated the Poles, gained her the
title of "guardian angel of Poland." In her salon Frederick came of
course also in contact with the dreaded Grand Duke, the Napoleon of
Belvedere (thus he was nicknamed by Niemcewicz, from the palace where
he resided in Warsaw), who on one occasion when the boy was improvising
with his eyes turned to the ceiling, as was his wont, asked him why he
looked in that direction, if he saw notes up there. With the exalted
occupants of Belvedere Frederick had a good deal of intercourse, for
little Paul, a boy of his own age, a son or adopted son of the Grand
Duke, enjoyed his company, and sometimes came with his tutor, Count de
Moriolles, to his house to take him for a drive. On these occasions
the neighbours of the Chopin family wondered not a little what business
brought the Grand Duke's carriage, drawn by four splendid horses, yoked
in the Russian fashion--i.e., all abreast--to their quarter.

Chopin's early introduction into aristocratic society and constant
intercourse with the aristocracy is an item of his education which must
not be considered as of subordinate importance. More than almost any
other of his early disciplines, it formed his tastes, or at least
strongly assisted in developing certain inborn traits of his nature, and
in doing this influenced his entire moral and artistic character. In the
proem I mentioned an English traveller's encomiums on the elegance in
the houses, and the exquisite refinement in the entertainments, of the
wealthy nobles in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. We may be
sure that in these respects the present century was not eclipsed by
its predecessors, at least not in the third decade, when the salons of
Warsaw shone at their brightest. The influence of French thought and
manners, for the importation and spreading of which King Stanislas
Leszczinski was so solicitous that he sent at his own expense many young
gentlemen to Paris for their education, was subsequently strengthened by
literary taste, national sympathies, and the political connection during
the first Empire. But although foreign notions and customs caused
much of the old barbarous extravagance and also much of the old
homely simplicity to disappear, they did not annihilate the national
distinctiveness of the class that was affected by them. Suffused with
the Slavonic spirit and its tincture of Orientalism, the importation
assumed a character of its own. Liszt, who did not speak merely from
hearsay, emphasises, in giving expression to his admiration of the
elegant and refined manners of the Polish aristocracy, the absence of
formalism and stiff artificiality:--

   In these salons [he writes] the rigorously observed
   proprieties were not a kind of ingeniously-constructed
   corsets that served to hide deformed hearts; they only
   necessitated the spiritualisation of all contacts, the
   elevation of all rapports, the aristocratisation of all
   impressions.

But enough of this for the present.

A surer proof of Frederick's ability than the applause and favour of the
aristocracy was the impression he made on the celebrated Catalani, who,
in January, 1820, gave four concerts in the town-hall of Warsaw, the
charge for admission to each of which was, as we may note in passing, no
less than thirty Polish florins (fifteen shillings). Hearing much of the
musically-gifted boy, she expressed the wish to have him presented to
her. On this being done, she was so pleased with him and his playing
that she made him a present of a watch, on which were engraved the
words: "Donne par Madame Catalani a Frederic Chopin, age de dix ans."

As yet I have said nothing of the boy's first attempts at composition.
Little Frederick began to compose soon after the commencement of his
pianoforte lessons and before he could handle the pen. His master had
to write down what the pupil played, after which the youthful maestro,
often dissatisfied with his first conception, would set to work with the
critical file, and try to improve it. He composed mazurkas, polonaises,
waltzes, &c. At the age of ten he dedicated a march to the Grand Duke
Constantine, who had it scored for a military band and played on parade
(subsequently it was also published, but without the composer's name),
and these productions gave such evident proof of talent that his father
deemed it desirable to get his friend Elsner to instruct him in
harmony and counterpoint. At this time, however, it was not as yet in
contemplation that Frederick should become a professional musician; on
the contrary, he was made to understand that his musical studies must
not interfere with his other studies, as he was then preparing for his
entrance into the Warsaw Lyceum. As we know that this event took place
in 1824, we know also the approximate time of the commencement of
Elsner's lessons. Fontana says that Chopin began these studies when he
was already remarkable as a pianist. Seeing how very little is known
concerning the nature and extent of Chopin's studies in composition, it
may be as well to exhaust the subject at once. But before I do so I must
make the reader acquainted with the musician who, as Zyvny was Chopin's
only pianoforte teacher, was his only teacher of composition.

Joseph Elsner, the son of a cabinet and musical instrument maker at
Grottkau, in Silesia, was born on June 1, 1769. As his father intended
him for the medical profession, he was sent in 1781 to the Latin school
at Breslau, and some years later to the University at Vienna. Having
already been encouraged by the rector in Grottkau to cultivate his
beautiful voice, he became in Breslau a chorister in one of the
churches, and after some time was often employed as violinist and singer
at the theatre. Here, where he got, if not regular instruction, at least
some hints regarding harmony and kindred matters (the authorities are
hopelessly at variance on this and on many other points), he made his
first attempts at composition, writing dances, songs, duets, trios, nay,
venturing even on larger works for chorus and orchestra. The musical
studies commenced in Breslau were continued in Vienna; preferring
musical scores to medical books, the conversations of musicians to
the lectures of professors, he first neglected and at last altogether
abandoned the study of the healing art. A. Boguslawski, who wrote a
biography of Elsner, tells the story differently and more poetically.
When, after a long illness during his sojourn in Breslau, thus runs his
version, Elsner went, on the day of the Holy Trinity in the year 1789,
for the first time to church, he was so deeply moved by the sounds of
the organ that he fainted. On recovering he felt his whole being filled
with such ineffable comfort and happiness that he thought he saw in this
occurrence the hand of destiny. He, therefore, set out for Vienna,
in order that he might draw as it were at the fountain-head the great
principles of his art. Be this as it may, in 1791 we hear of Elsner
as violinist in Brunn, in 1792 as musical conductor at a theatre in
Lemberg--where he is busy composing dramatic and other works--and near
the end of the last century as occupant of the same post at the National
Theatre in Warsaw, which town became his home for the rest of his life.
There was the principal field of his labours; there he died, after a
sojourn of sixty-two years in Poland, on April 18, 1854, leaving
behind him one of the most honoured names in the history of his adopted
country. Of the journeys he undertook, the longest and most important
was, no doubt, that to Paris in 1805. On the occasion of this visit
some of his compositions were performed, and when Chopin arrived there
twenty-five years afterwards, Elsner was still remembered by Lesueur,
who said: "Et que fait notre bon Elsner? Racontez-moi de ses nouvelles."
Elsner was a very productive composer: besides symphonies, quartets,
cantatas, masses, an oratorio, &c., he composed twenty-seven Polish
operas. Many of these works were published, some in Warsaw, some in
various German towns, some even in Paris. But his activity as a teacher,
conductor, and organiser was perhaps even more beneficial to the
development of the musical art in Poland than that as a composer. After
founding and conducting several musical societies, he became in 1821
director of the then opened Conservatorium, at the head of which he
continued to the end of its existence in 1830. To complete the idea of
the man, we must not omit to mention his essay In how far is the Polish
language suitable for music? As few of his compositions have been heard
outside of Poland, and these few long ago, rarely, and in few places, it
is difficult to form a satisfactory opinion with regard to his position
as a composer. Most accounts, however, agree in stating that he wrote in
the style of the modern Italians, that is to say, what were called the
modern Italians in the later part of the last and the earlier part of
this century. Elsner tried his strength and ability in all genres, from
oratorio, opera, and symphony, down to pianoforte variations, rondos,
and dances, and in none of them did he fail to be pleasing and
intelligible, not even where, as especially in his sacred music, he
made use--a sparing use--of contrapuntal devices, imitations, and fugal
treatment. The naturalness, fluency, effectiveness, and practicableness
which distinguish his writing for voices and instruments show that he
possessed a thorough knowledge of their nature and capability. It was,
therefore, not an empty rhetorical phrase to speak of him initiating
his pupils "a la science du contre-point et aux effets d'une savante
instrumentation."

[FOOTNOTE: "The productions of Elsner," says Fetis, "are in the style of
Paer and Mayer's music. In his church music there is a little too much
of modern and dramatic forms; one finds in them facility and a natural
manner of making the parts sing, but little originality and variety in
his ideas. Elsner writes with sufficient purity, although he shows in
his fugues that his studies have not been severe."]

For the pupils of the Conservatorium he wrote vocal pieces in from one
to ten parts, and he composed also a number of canons in four and five
parts, which fact seems to demonstrate that he had no ill-will against
the scholastic forms. And now I shall quote a passage from an apparently
well-informed writer [FOOTNOTE: The writer of the article Elsner in
Schilling's Universal-Lexikon der Tonkunst] (to whom I am, moreover,
otherwise indebted in this sketch), wherein Elsner is blamed for certain
shortcomings with which Chopin has been often reproached in a less
charitable spirit. The italics, which are mine, will point out the words
in question:--

   One forgives him readily [in consideration of the general
   excellence of his style] THE OFFENCES AGAINST THE LAW OF
   HARMONIC CONNECTION THAT OCCUR HERE AND THERE, AND THE
   FACILITY WITH WHICH HE SOMETIMES DISREGARDS THE FIXED RULES
   OF STRICT PART-WRITING, especially in the dramatic works,
   where he makes effect apparently the ultimate aim of his
   indefatigable endeavours.

The wealth of melody and technical mastery displayed in "The Passion
of our Lord Jesus Christ" incline Karasowski to think that it is the
composer's best work. When the people at Breslau praised Elsner's
"Echo Variations" for orchestra, Chopin exclaimed: "You must hear his
Coronation Mass, then only can you judge of him as a composer." To
characterise Elsner in a few words, he was a man of considerable musical
aptitude and capacity, full of nobleness of purpose, learning, industry,
perseverance, in short, possessing all qualities implied by talent, but
lacking those implied by genius.

A musician travelling in 1841 in Poland sent at the time to the Neue
Zeitschrift fur Musik a series of "Reiseblatter" (Notes of Travel),
which contain so charming and vivid a description of this interesting
personality that I cannot resist the temptation to translate and insert
it here almost without any abridgment. Two noteworthy opinions of the
writer may be fitly prefixed to this quotation--namely, that Elsner was
a Pole with all his heart and soul, indeed, a better one than thousands
that are natives of the country, and that, like Haydn, he possessed the
quality of writing better the older he grew:--

   The first musical person of the town [Warsaw] is still the
   old, youthful Joseph Elsner, a veteran master of our art, who
   is as amiable as he is truly estimable. In our day one hardly
   meets with a notable Polish musician who has not studied
   composition under Pan [i.e., Mr.] Elsner; and he loves all
   his pupils, and all speak of him with enthusiasm, and,
   according to the Polish fashion, kiss the old master's
   shoulder, whereupon he never forgets to kiss them heartily on
   both cheeks. Even Charles Kurpinski, the pensioned
   Capelhneister of the Polish National Theatre, whose hair is
   already grey, is, if I am not very much misinformed, also a
   pupil of Joseph Elsner's. One is often mistaken with regard
   to the outward appearance of a celebrated man; I mean, one
   forms often a false idea of him before one has seen him and
   knows a portrait of him. I found Elsner almost exactly as I
   had imagined him. Wisocki, the pianist, also a pupil of his,
   took me to him. Pan Elsner lives in the Dom Pyarow [House of
   Piarists]. One has to start early if one wishes to find him
   at home; for soon after breakfast he goes out, and rarely
   returns to his cell before evening. He inhabits, like a
   genuine church composer, two cells of the old Piarist
   Monastery in Jesuit Street, and in the dark passages which
   lead to his rooms one sees here and there faded laid-aside
   pictures of saints lying about, and old church banners
   hanging down. The old gentleman was still in bed when we
   arrived, and sent his servant to ask us to wait a little in
   the anteroom, promising to be with us immediately. All the
   walls of this room, or rather cell, were hung to the ceiling
   with portraits of musicians, among them some very rare names
   and faces. Mr. Elsner has continued this collection down to
   the present time; also the portraits of Liszt, Thalberg,
   Chopin, and Clara Wieck shine down from the old monastic
   walls. I had scarcely looked about me in this large company
   for a few minutes, when the door of the adjoining room
   opened, and a man of medium height (not to say little),
   somewhat stout, with a round, friendly countenance, grey
   hair, but very lively eyes, enveloped in a warm fur dressing-
   gown, stepped up to us, comfortably but quickly, and bade us
   welcome. Wisocki kissed him, according to the Polish fashion,
   as a token of respect, on the right shoulder, and introduced
   me to him, whereupon the old friendly gentleman shook hands
   with me and said some kindly words.

   This, then, was Pan Joseph Elsner, the ancestor of modern
   Polish music, the teacher of Chopin, the fine connoisseur and
   cautious guide of original talents. For he does not do as is
   done only too often by other teachers in the arts, who insist
   on screwing all pupils to the same turning-lathe on which
   they themselves were formed, who always do their utmost to
   ingraft their own I on the pupil, so that he may become as
   excellent a man as they imagine themselves to be. Joseph
   Elsner did not proceed thus. When all the people of Warsaw
   thought Frederick Chopin was entering on a wrong path, that
   his was not music at all, that he must keep to Himmel and
   Hummel, otherwise he would never do anything decent--the
   clever Pan Elsner had already very clearly perceived what a
   poetic kernel there was in the pale young dreamer, had long
   before felt very clearly that he had before him the founder
   of a new epoch of pianoforte-playing, and was far from laying
   upon him a cavesson, knowing well that such a noble
   thoroughbred may indeed be cautiously led, but must not be
   trained and fettered in the usual way if he is to conquer.

Of Chopin's studies under this master we do not know much more than
of his studies under Zywny. Both Fontana and Sowinski say that he went
through a complete course of counterpoint and composition. Elsner, in a
letter written to Chopin in 1834, speaks of himself as "your teacher
of harmony and counterpoint, of little merit, but fortunate." Liszt
writes:--

   Joseph Elsner taught Chopin those things that are most
   difficult to learn and most rarely known: to be exacting
   to one's self, and to value the advantages that are only
   obtained by dint of patience and labour.

What other accounts of the matter under discussion I have got from books
and conversations are as general and vague as the foregoing. I therefore
shall not weary the reader with them. What Elsner's view of teaching was
may be gathered from one of his letters to his pupil. The gist of his
remarks lies in this sentence:--

   That with which the artist (who learns continually from his
   surroundings) astonishes his contemporaries, he can only
   attain by himself and through himself.

Elsner had insight and self-negation (a rare quality with teachers)
enough to act up to his theory, and give free play to the natural
tendencies of his pupil's powers. That this was really the case is seen
from his reply to one who blamed Frederick's disregard of rules and
custom:--

   Leave him in peace [he said], his is an uncommon way because
   his gifts are uncommon. He does not strictly adhere to the
   customary method, but he has one of his own, and he will
   reveal in his works an originality which in such a degree has
   not been found in anyone.

The letters of master and pupil testify to their unceasing mutual esteem
and love. Those of the master are full of fatherly affection and advice,
those of the pupil full of filial devotion and reverence. Allusions to
and messages for Elsner are very frequent in Chopin's letters. He seems
always anxious that his old master should know how he fared, especially
hear of his success. His sentiments regarding Elsner reveal themselves
perhaps nowhere more strikingly than in an incidental remark which
escapes him when writing to his friend Woyciechowski. Speaking of a new
acquaintance he has made, he says, "He is a great friend of Elsner's,
which in my estimation means much." No doubt Chopin looked up with more
respect and thought himself more indebted to Elsner than to Zywny; but
that he had a good opinion of both his masters is evident from his pithy
reply to the Viennese gentleman who told him that people were astonished
at his having learned all he knew at Warsaw: "From Messrs. Zywny and
Elsner even the greatest ass must learn something."



CHAPTER III



FREDERICK ENTERS THE WARSAW LYCEUM.--VARIOUS EDUCATIONAL
INFLUENCES.--HIS FATHER'S FRIENDS.--RISE OF ROMANTICISM IN POLISH
LITERATURE.--FREDERICK'S STAY AT SZAFARNIA DURING HIS FIRST SCHOOL
HOLIDAYS.--HIS TALENT FOR IMPROVISATION.--HIS DEVELOPMENT AS A COMPOSER
AND PIANIST.--HIS PUBLIC PERFORMANCES.--PUBLICATION OF OP. I.--EARLY
COMPOSITIONS.--HIS PIANOFORTE STYLE.



FREDERICK, who up to the age of fifteen was taught at home along with
his father's boarders, became in 1824 a pupil of the Warsaw Lyceum, a
kind of high-school, the curriculum of which comprised Latin, Greek,
modern languages, mathematics, history, &c. His education was so
far advanced that he could at once enter the fourth class, and the
liveliness of his parts, combined with application to work, enabled him
to distinguish himself in the following years as a student and to carry
off twice a prize. Polish history and literature are said to have been
his favourite studies.

Liszt relates that Chopin was placed at an early age in one of the first
colleges of Warsaw, "thanks to the generous and intelligent protection
which Prince Anton Radziwill always bestowed upon the arts and upon
young men of talent." This statement, however, has met with a direct
denial on the part of the Chopin family, and may, therefore, be
considered as disposed of. But even without such a denial the statement
would appear suspicious to all but those unacquainted with Nicholas
Chopin's position. Surely he must have been able to pay for his son's
schooling! Moreover, one would think that, as a professor at the Lyceum,
he might even have got it gratis. As to Frederick's musical education
in Warsaw, it cannot have cost much. And then, how improbable that the
Prince should have paid the comparatively trifling school-fees and left
the young man when he went abroad dependent upon the support of his
parents! The letters from Vienna (1831) show unmistakably that Chopin
applied to his father repeatedly for money, and regretted being such a
burden to him. Further, Chopin's correspondence, which throws much light
on his relation to Prince Radziwili, contains nothing which would lead
one to infer any such indebtedness as Liszt mentions. But in order that
the reader may be in possession of the whole evidence and able to judge
for himself, I shall place before him Liszt's curiously circumstantial
account in its entirety:--

   The Prince bestowed upon him the inappreciable gift of a good
   education, no part of which remained neglected. His elevated
   mind enabling him to understand the exigencies of an artist's
   career, he, from the time of his protege's entering the
   college to the entire completion of his studies, paid the
   pension through the agency of a friend, M. Antoine
   Korzuchowski, [FOOTNOTE: Liszt should have called this
   gentleman Adam Kozuchowski.] who always maintained cordial
   relations and a constant friendship with Chopin.

Liszt's informant was no doubt Chopin's Paris friend Albert Grzymala,
[FOOTNOTE: M. Karasowski calls this Grzymala erroneously Francis. More
information about this gentleman will be given in a subsequent chapter.]
who seems to have had no connection with the Chopin family in Poland.
Karasowski thinks that the only foundation of the story is a letter and
present from Prince Radziwill--acknowledgments of the dedication to him
of the Trio, Op. 8--which Adam Kozuchowski brought to Chopin in 1833.
[FOOTNOTE: M. Karasowski, Fryderyk Chopin, vol. i., p. 65.]

Frederick was much liked by his school-fellows, which, as his manners
and disposition were of a nature thoroughly appreciated by boys, is
not at all to be wondered at. One of the most striking features in
the character of young Chopin was his sprightliness, a sparkling
effervescence that manifested itself by all sorts of fun and mischief.
He was never weary of playing pranks on his sisters, his comrades,
and even on older people, and indulged to the utmost his fondness for
caricaturing by pictorial and personal imitations. In the course of a
lecture the worthy rector of the Lyceum discovered the scapegrace making
free with the face and figure of no less a person than his own rectorial
self. Nevertheless the irreverent pupil got off easily, for the master,
with as much magnanimity as wisdom, abstained from punishing the
culprit, and, in a subscript which he added to the caricature, even
praised the execution of it. A German Protestant pastor at Warsaw, who
made always sad havoc of the Polish language, in which he had every
Sunday to preach one of his sermons, was the prototype of one of the
imitations with which Frederick frequently amused his friends. Our
hero's talent for changing the expression of his face, of which
George Sand, Liszt, Balzac, Hiller, Moscheles, and other personal
acquaintances, speak with admiration, seems already at this time to have
been extraordinary. Of the theatricals which the young folks were wont
to get up at the paternal house, especially on the name-days of their
parents and friends, Frederick was the soul and mainstay. With a good
delivery he combined a presence of mind that enabled him to be always
ready with an improvisation when another player forgot his part. A
clever Polish actor, Albert Piasecki, who was stage-manager on these
occasions, gave it as his opinion that the lad was born to be a great
actor. In after years two distinguished members of the profession in
France, M. Bocage and Mdme. Dorval, expressed similar opinions. For
their father's name-day in 1824, Frederick and his sister Emilia wrote
conjointly a one-act comedy in verse, entitled THE MISTAKE; OR, THE
PRETENDED ROGUE, which was acted by a juvenile company. According to
Karasowski, the play showed that the authors had a not inconsiderable
command of language, but in other respects could not be called a very
brilliant achievement. Seeing that fine comedies are not often written
at the ages of fifteen and eleven, nobody will be in the least surprised
at the result.

These domestic amusements naturally lead us to inquire who were the
visitors that frequented the house. Among them there was Dr. Samuel
Bogumil Linde, rector of the Lyceum and first librarian of the National
Library, a distinguished philologist, who, assisted by the best Slavonic
scholars, wrote a valuable and voluminous "Dictionary of the Polish
Language," and published many other works on the Slavonic languages.
After this oldest of Nicholas Chopin's friends I shall mention Waclaw
Alexander Maciejowski, who, like Linde, received his university
education in Germany, taught then for a short time at the Lyceum,
and became in 1819 a professor at the University of Warsaw. His
contributions to various branches of Slavonic history (law, literature,
&c.) are very numerous. However, one of the most widely known of those
who were occasionally seen at Chopin's home was Casimir Brodzinski, the
poet, critic, and champion of romanticism, a prominent figure in Polish
literary history, who lived in Warsaw from about 1815 to 1822, in which
year he went as professor of literature to the University of Cracow.
Nicholas Chopin's pupil, Count Frederick Skarbek, must not be forgotten;
he had now become a man of note, being professor of political economy at
the university, and author of several books that treat of that science.
Besides Elsner and Zywny, who have already been noticed at some
length, a third musician has to be numbered among friends of the Chopin
family--namely, Joseph Javurek, the esteemed composer and professor at
the Conservatorium; further, I must yet make mention of Anton Barcinski,
professor at the Polytechnic School, teacher at Nicholas Chopin's
institution, and by-and-by his son-in-law; Dr. Jarocki, the zoologist;
Julius Kolberg, the engineer; and Brodowski, the painter. These and
others, although to us only names, or little more, are nevertheless not
without their significance. We may liken them to the supernumeraries on
the stage, who, dumb as they are, help to set off and show the position
of the principal figure or figures.

The love of literature which we have noticed in the young Chopins, more
particularly in the sisters, implanted by an excellent education and
fostered by the taste, habits, and encouragement of their father, cannot
but have been greatly influenced and strengthened by the characters and
conversation of such visitors. And let it not be overlooked that
this was the time of Poland's intellectual renascence--a time when the
influence of man over man is greater than at other times, he being, as
it were, charged with a kind of vivifying electricity. The
misfortunes that had passed over Poland had purified and fortified the
nation--breathed into it a new and healthier life. The change which the
country underwent from the middle of the eighteenth to the earlier
part of the nineteenth century was indeed immense. Then Poland, to
use Carlyle's drastic phraseology, had ripened into a condition
of "beautifully phosphorescent rot-heap"; now, with an improved
agriculture, reviving commerce, and rising industry, it was more
prosperous than it had been for centuries. As regards intellectual
matters, the comparison with the past was even more favourable to
the present. The government that took the helm in 1815 followed the
direction taken by its predecessors, and schools and universities
flourished; but a most hopeful sign was this, that whilst the epoch of
Stanislas Augustus was, as Mickiewicz remarked (in Les Slaves), little
Slavonic and not even national, now the national spirit pervaded the
whole intellectual atmosphere, and incited workers in all branches of
science and art to unprecedented efforts. To confine ourselves to one
department, we find that the study of the history and literature of
Poland had received a vigorous impulse, folk-songs were zealously
collected, and a new school of poetry, romanticism, rose victoriously
over the fading splendour of an effete classicism. The literature of
the time of Stanislas was a court and salon literature, and under the
influence of France and ancient Rome. The literature that began to
bud about 1815, and whose germs are to be sought for in the preceding
revolutionary time, was more of a people's literature, and under the
influence of Germany, England, and Russia. The one was a hot-house
plant, the other a garden flower, or even a wild flower. The classics
swore by the precepts of Horace and Boileau, and held that among
the works of Shakespeare there was not one veritable tragedy. The
romanticists, on the other hand, showed by their criticisms and works
that their sympathies were with Schiller, Goethe, Burger, Byron,
Shukovski, &c. Wilna was the chief centre from which this movement
issued, and Brodziriski one of the foremost defenders of the new
principles and the precursor of Mickiewicz, the appearance of whose
ballads, romances, "Dziady" and "Grazyna" (1822), decided the war in
favour of romanticism. The names of Anton Malczewski, Bogdan Zaleski,
Severyn Goszczynski, and others, ought to be cited along with that of
the more illustrious Mickiewicz, but I will not weary the reader either
with a long disquisition or with a dry enumeration. I have said above
that Polish poetry had become more of a people's poetry. This, however,
must not be understood in the sense of democratic poetry.

The Polish poets [says C. Courriere, to whose "Histoire de la
litterature chez les Slaves" I am much indebted] ransacked with avidity
the past of their country, which appeared to them so much the more
brilliant because it presented a unique spectacle in the history of
nations. Instead of breaking with the historic traditions they respected
them, and gave them a new lustre, a new life, by representing them under
a more beautiful, more animated, and more striking form. In short, if
Polish romanticism was an evolution of poetry in the national sense, it
did not depart from the tendencies of its elder sister, for it saw
in the past only the nobility; it was and remained, except in a few
instances, aristocratic.

Now let us keep in mind that this contest of classicism and romanticism,
this turning away from a dead formalism to living ideals, was taking
place at that period of Frederick Chopin's life when the human mind is
most open to new impressions, and most disposed to entertain bold and
noble ideas. And, further, let us not undervalue the circumstance that
he must have come in close contact with one of the chief actors in this
unbloody revolution.

Frederick spent his first school holidays at Szafarnia, in Mazovia, the
property of the Dziewanowski family. In a letter written on August
19, 1824, he gives his friend and school-fellow William Kolberg, some
account of his doings there--of his strolls and runs in the garden, his
walks and drives to the forest, and above all of his horsemanship. He
tells his dear Willie that he manages to keep his seat, but would
not like to be asked how. Indeed, he confesses that, his equestrian
accomplishments amount to no more than to letting the horse go slowly
where it lists, and sitting on it, like a monkey, with fear. If he had
not yet met with an accident, it was because the horse had so far not
felt any inclination to throw him off. In connection with his drives--in
britzka and in coach--he does not forget to mention that he is always
honoured with a back-seat. Still, life at Szafarnia was not unmixed
happiness, although our hero bore the ills with admirable stoicism:--

   Very often [he writes] the flies sit on my prominent nose--
   this, however, is of no consequence, it is the habit of these
   little animals. The mosquitoes bite me--this too, however, is
   of no consequence, for they don't bite me in the nose.

The reader sees from this specimen of epistolary writing that Frederick
is still a boy, and if I had given the letter in extenso, the boyishness
would have been even more apparent, in the loose and careless style as
well as in the frolicsome matter.

His letters to his people at home took on this occasion the form of a
manuscript newspaper, called, in imitation of the "Kuryer Warszawski"
("Warsaw Courier"), "Kuryer Szafarski" ("Szafarnia Courier"), which the
editor, in imitation of the then obtaining press regulation, did not
send off until it had been seen and approved of by the censor, Miss
Dziewanowska. One of the numbers of the paper contains among other news
the report of a musical gathering of "some persons and demi-persons"
at which, on July 15, 1824, Mr. Pichon (anagram of Chopin) played a
Concerto of Kalkbrenner's and a little song, the latter being received
by the youthful audience with more applause than the former.

Two anecdotes that relate to this stay at Szafarnia further exemplify
what has already been said of Frederick's love of fun and mischief.
Having on one of his visits to the village of Oberow met some Jews
who had come to buy grain, he invited them to his room, and there
entertained them with music, playing to them "Majufes."

[FOOTNOTE: Karasowski describes "Majufes" as a kind of Jewish wedding
march. Ph. Lobenstein says that it means "the beautiful, the pleasing
one." With this word opened a Hebrew song which dates from the time of
the sojourn of the Jews in Spain, and which the orthodox Polish Jews
sing on Saturdays after dinner, and whose often-heard melody the Poles
imitate as a parody of Jewish singing.]

His guests were delighted--they began to dance, told him that he played
like a born Jew, and urged him to come to the next Jewish wedding and
play to them there. The other anecdote would be a very ugly story were
it not for the redeeming conclusion. Again we meet with one of the
numerous, but by no means well-loved, class of Polish citizens.
Frederick, having heard that a certain Jew had bought grain from
Mr. Romecki, the proprietor of Oberow, sent this gentleman a letter
purporting to be written by the grain-dealer in question, in which he
informed him that after reconsidering the matter he would rather not
take the grain. The imitation of the jargon in use among the Polish Jews
was so good, and the spelling and writing so bad, that Mr. Romecki was
taken in. Indeed, he flew at once into such a passion that he sent for
the Jew with the intention of administering to him a sound thrashing.
Only Frederick's timely confession saved the poor fellow from his
undeserved punishment. But enough of Szafarnia, where the young
scapegrace paid so long a holiday visit (from his letter to William
Kolberg we learn that he would not see his friend for four weeks more),
and where, judging from what has already been told, and also from a
remark in the same letter, he must have "enjoyed himself pretty well."
And now we will return to Warsaw, to Nicholas Chopin's boarding-school.

To take away any bad impression that may be left by the last anecdote, I
shall tell another of a more pleasing character, which, indeed, has had
the honour of being made the subject of a picture. It was often told,
says Karasowski, by Casimir Wodzinski, a boarder of Nicholas Chopin's.
One day when the latter was out, Barcinski, the assistant master,
could not manage the noisy boys. Seeing this, Frederick, who just then
happened to come into the room, said to them that he would improvise a
pretty story if they would sit down and be quiet. This quickly restored
silence. He thereupon had the lights extinguished, took his seat at the
piano, and began as follows:--

    Robbers set out to plunder a house. They come nearer and
    nearer. Then they halt, and put up the ladders they have
    brought with them. But just when they are about to enter
    through the windows, they hear a noise within. This gives
    them a fright. They run away to the woods. There, amidst the
    stillness and darkness of the night, they lie down and
    before long fall fast asleep.

When Frederick had got to this part of the story he began to play softer
and softer, and ever softer, till his auditors, like the robbers, were
fast asleep. Noticing this he stole out of the room, called in the other
inmates of the house, who came carrying lights with them, and then
with a tremendous, crashing chord disturbed the sweet slumbers of the
evil-doers.

Here we have an instance of "la richesse de son improvisation," by
which, as Fontana tells us, Chopin, from his earliest youth, astonished
all who had the good fortune to hear him. Those who think that there
is no salvation outside the pale of absolute music, will no doubt be
horror-stricken at the heretical tendency manifested on this occasion by
an otherwise so promising musician. Nay, even the less orthodox, those
who do not altogether deny the admissibility of programme-music if it
conforms to certain conditions and keeps within certain limits, will
shake their heads sadly. The duty of an enthusiastic biographer, it
would seem, is unmistakable; he ought to justify, or, at least, excuse
his hero--if nothing else availed, plead his youth and inexperience.
My leaving the poor suspected heretic in the lurch under these
circumstances will draw upon me the reproach of remissness; but, as
I have what I consider more important business on hand, I must not be
deterred from proceeding to it by the fear of censure.

The year 1825 was, in many respects, a memorable one in the life of
Chopin. On May 27 and June 10 Joseph Javurek, whom I mentioned a few
pages back among the friends of the Chopin family, gave two concerts for
charitable purposes in the large hall of the Conservatorium. At one of
these Frederick appeared again in public. A Warsaw correspondent of the
"Leipzig Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung" says in the course of one of
his letters:--

   The Academist Chopin performed the first Allegro of
   Moscheles' Pianoforte Concerto in F [G?] minor, and an
   improvisation on the aeolopantaleon. This instrument,
   invented by the cabinet-maker Dlugosz, of this town, combines
   the aeolomelodicon [FOOTNOTE: An instrument of the organ
   species, invented by Professor Hoffmann, and constructed by
   the mechanician Brunner, of Warsaw.] with the piano-
   forte....Young Chopin distinguished himself in his
   improvisation by wealth of musical ideas, and under his hands
   this instrument, of which he is a thorough master, made a
   great impression.

Unfortunately we learn nothing of Chopin's rendering of the movement
from Moscheles' Concerto. Still, this meagre notice, written by a
contemporary--an ear-witness, who wrote down his impressions soon after
the performance--is very precious, indeed more precious than the
most complete and elaborate criticism written fifty years after the
occurrence would be. I cannot help thinking that Karasowski somewhat
exaggerates when he says that Chopin's pianoforte playing transported
the audience into a state of enthusiasm, and that no concert had a
brilliant success unless he took part in it. The biographer seems either
to trust too much to the fancy-coloured recollections of his informants,
or to allow himself to be carried away by his zeal for the exaltation of
his hero. At any rate, the tenor of the above-quoted notice, laudatory
as it is, and the absence of Chopin's name from other Warsaw letters,
do not remove the doubts which such eulogistic superlatives raise in the
mind of an unbiassed inquirer. But that Chopin, as a pianist and as
a musician generally, had attained a proficiency far beyond his years
becomes evident if we examine his compositions of that time, to which I
shall presently advert. And that he had risen into notoriety and saw his
talents appreciated cannot be doubted for a moment after what has been
said. Were further proof needed, we should find it in the fact that he
was selected to display the excellences of the aeolomelodicon when the
Emperor Alexander I, during his sojourn in Warsaw in 1825, [FOOTNOTE:
The Emperor Alexander opened the Diet at Warsaw on May 13, 1825, and
closed it on June 13.] expressed the wish to hear this instrument.
Chopin's performance is said to have pleased the august auditor, who, at
all events, rewarded the young musician with a diamond ring.

A greater event than either the concert or the performance before the
Emperor, in fact, THE event of the year 1825, was the publication of
Chopin's Opus 1. Only he who has experienced the delicious sensation of
seeing himself for the first time in print can realise what our young
author felt on this occasion. Before we examine this work, we will
give a passing glance at some less important early compositions of the
maestro which were published posthumously.

There is first of all a Polonaise in G sharp minor, said to be of
the year 1822, [FOOTNOTE: See No. 15 of the Posthumous Works in the
Breitkopf and Hartel edition.] but which, on account of the savoir-faire
and invention exhibited in it, I hold to be of a considerably later
time. Chopin's individuality, it is true, is here still in a rudimentary
state, chiefly manifested in the light-winged figuration; the thoughts
and the expression, however, are natural and even graceful, bearing
thus the divine impress. The echoes of Weber should be noted. Of
two mazurkas, in G and B flat major, of the year 1825, the first is,
especially in its last part, rather commonplace; the second is more
interesting, because more suggestive of better things, which the first
is only to an inconsiderable extent. In No. 2 we meet already with
harmonic piquancies which charmed musicians and lovers of music so
much in the later mazurkas. Critics and students will not overlook the
octaves between, treble and bass in the second bar of part two in No.
1. A. Polonaise in B flat minor, superscribed "Farewell to William
Kolberg," of the year 1826, has not less naturalness and grace than the
Polonaise of 1822, but in addition to these qualities, it has also at
least one thought (part 1) which contains something of the sweet ring of
Chopinian melancholy. The trio of the Polonaise is headed by the words:
"Au revoir! after an aria from 'Gazza ladra'." Two foot-notes accompany
this composition in the Breitkopf and Hartel edition (No. 16 of the
Posthumous Works). The first says that the Polonaise was composed "at
Chopin's departure from [should be 'for'] Reinerz"; and the second, in
connection with the trio, that "some days before Chopin's departure the
two friends had been present at a performance of Rossini's opera."
There is one other early posthumously-published work of Chopin's, whose
status, however, differs from the above-mentioned ones in this, that
the composer seems to have intended to publish it. The composition in
question is the Variations sur un air national allemand.

Szulc says that Oskar Kolberg related that he had still in his
possession these Variations on the theme of Der Schweizerbub, which
Chopin composed between his twelfth and seventeenth years at the house
of General Sowinski's wife in the course of "a few quarter-hours."
The Variations sur un air national allemand were published after the
composer's death along with his Sonata, Op. 4, by Haslinger, of Vienna,
in 1851. They are, no doubt, the identical composition of which Chopin
in a letter from Vienna (December 1, 1830) writes: "Haslinger received
me very kindly, but nevertheless would publish neither the Sonata nor
the Second Variations." The First Variations were those on La ci darem,
Op. 2, the first of his compositions that was published in Germany.
Without inquiring too curiously into the exact time of its production
and into the exact meaning of "a few quarter-hours," also leaving it
an open question whether the composer did or did not revise his first
conception of the Variations before sending them to Vienna, I shall
regard this unnumbered work--which, by the way, in the Breitkopf and
Hartel edition is dated 1824--on account of its greater simplicity and
inferior interest, as an earlier composition than the Premier Rondeau
(C minor), Op. 1, dedicated to Mdme. de Linde (the wife of his father's
friend and colleague, the rector Dr. Linde), a lady with whom Frederick
often played duets. What strikes one at once in both of them is
the almost total absence of awkwardness and the presence of a
rarely-disturbed ease. They have a natural air which is alike free from
affected profundity and insipid childishness. And the hand that wrote
them betrays so little inexperience in the treatment of the instrument
that they can hold their ground without difficulty and honourably among
the better class of light drawing-room pieces. Of course, there are
weak points: the introduction to the Variations with those interminable
sequences of dominant and tonic chords accompanying a stereotyped run,
and the want of cohesiveness in the Rondo, the different subjects of
which are too loosely strung together, may be instanced. But, although
these two compositions leave behind them a pleasurable impression,
they can lay only a small claim to originality. Still, there are slight
indications of it in the tempo di valse, the concluding portion of the
Variations, and more distinct ones in the Rondo, in which it is
possible to discover the embryos of forms--chromatic and serpentining
progressions, &c.--which subequently develop most exuberantly. But if on
the one hand we must admit that the composer's individuality is as yet
weak, on the other hand we cannot accuse him of being the imitator of
any one master--such a dominant influence is not perceptible.

[FOOTNOTE: Schumann, who in 1831 became acquainted with Chopin's Op.
2, and conceived an enthusiastic admiration for the composer, must have
made inquiries after his Op. 1, and succeeded in getting it. For on
January 1832, he wrote to Frederick Wieck: "Chopin's first work (I
believe firmly that it is his tenth) is in my hands: a lady would
say that it was very pretty, very piquant, almost Moschelesque. But
I believe you will make Clara [Wieck's daughter, afterwards Mdme.
Schumann] study it; for there is plenty of Geist in it and few
difficulties. But I humbly venture to assert that there are between this
composition and Op. 2 two years and twenty works"]

All this, however, is changed in another composition, the Rondeau a
la Mazur, Op. 5, dedicated to the Comtesse Alexandrine de Moriolles (a
daughter of the Comte de Moriolles mentioned in Chapter II), which, like
the Rondo, Op. 1, was first published in Warsaw, and made its appearance
in Germany some years later. I do not know the exact time of its
composition, but I presume it was a year or two after that of the
previously mentioned works. Schumann, who reviewed it in 1836, thought
it had perhaps been written in the eighteenth year of the composer, but
he found in it, some confused passages excepted, no indications of the
author's youth. In this Rondeau a la Mazur the individuality of Chopin
and with it his nationality begin to reveal themselves unmistakably. Who
could fail to recognise him in the peculiar sweet and persuasive flows
of sound, and the serpent-like winding of the melodic outline, the
wide-spread chords, the chromatic progressions, the dissolving of the
harmonies and the linking of their constituent parts! And, as I have
said elsewhere in speaking of this work: "The harmonies are often novel,
and the matter is more homogeneous and better welded into oneness."

Chopin's pianoforte lessons, as has already been stated, came to an end
when he was twelve years old, and thenceforth he was left to his own
resources.

   The school of that time [remarks Fontana] could no longer
   suffice him, he aimed higher, and felt himself impelled
   towards an ideal which, at first vague, before long grew into
   greater distinctness. It was then that, in trying his
   strength, he acquired that touch and style, so different from
   those of his predecessors, and that he succeeded in creating
   at last that execution which since then has been the
   admiration of the artistic world.

The first stages of the development of his peculiar style may be traced
in the compositions we have just now discussed. In the variations and
first Rondo which Chopin wrote at or before the age of fifteen, the
treatment of the instrument not only proves that he was already as much
in his element on the pianoforte as a fish in the water, but also shows
that an as yet vaguely-perceived ideal began to beckon him onward.
Karasowski, informed by witnesses of the boy's studies in pianoforte
playing, relates that Frederick, being struck with the fine effect of
a chord in extended harmony, and unable, on account of the smallness of
his hands, to strike the notes simultaneously, set about thinking how
this physical obstacle could be overcome. The result of his cogitations
was the invention of a contrivance which he put between his fingers and
kept there even during the night, by this means endeavouring to increase
the extensibility and flexibility of his hands. Who, in reading of this
incident in Chopin's life, is not reminded of Schumann and his attempt
to strengthen his fingers, an attempt that ended so fatally for his
prospects as a virtuoso! And the question, an idle one I admit, suggests
itself: Had Chopin been less fortunate than he was, and lost, like
Schumann, the command of one of his hands before he had formed his
pianoforte style, would he, as a composer, have risen to a higher
position than we know him to have attained, or would he have achieved
less than he actually did? From the place and wording of Karasowski's
account it would appear that this experiment of Chopin's took place at
or near the age of ten. Of course it does not matter much whether we
know or do not know the year or day of the adoption of the practice,
what is really interesting is the fact itself. I may, however, remark
that Chopin's love of wide-spread chords and skips, if marked at all,
is not strongly marked in the Variations on the German air and the first
Rondo. Let the curious examine with regard to this matter the Tempo di
Valse of the former work, and bars 38-43 of the Piu lento of the latter.
In the Rondeau a la Mazur, the next work in chronological order, this
peculiarity begins to show itself distinctly, and it continues to grow
in the works that follow. It is not my intention to weary the reader
with microscopical criticism, but I thought the first manifestations of
Chopin's individuality ought not to be passed over in silence. As to his
style, it will be more fully discussed in a subsequent chapter, where
also the seeds from which it sprang will be pointed out.



CHAPTER IV.



FREDERICK WORKS TOO HARD.--PASSES PART OF HIS HOLIDAYS (1826)
IN REINERZ.--STAYS ALSO AT STRZYZEWO, AND PAYS A VISIT TO PRINCE
RADZIWILL.--HE TERMINATES HIS STUDIES AT THE LYCEUM (1827). ADOPTION
OF MUSIC AS HIS PROFESSION.--EXCURSIONS.--FOLK-MUSIC AND THE POLISH
PEASANTRY.--SOME MORE COMPOSITIONS.--PROJECTED TRAVELS FOR HIS
IMPROVEMENT.--HIS OUTWARD APPEARANCE AND STATE OF HEALTH.



THE art which had attracted the child took every day a stronger hold of
the youth. Frederick was not always in that sportive humour in which
we have seen him repeatedly. At times he would wander about silent and
solitary, wrapped in his musical meditations. He would sit up late, busy
with his beloved music, and often, after lying down, rise from his bed
in the middle of the night in order, to strike a few chords or try a
short phrase--to the horror of the servants, whose first thought was of
ghosts, the second that their dear young master was not quite right in
his mind. Indeed, what with his school-work and his musical studies,
our young friend exerted himself more than was good for him. When,
therefore, in the holidays of 1826 his youngest sister, Emilia, was
ordered by the physicians to go to Reinerz, a watering-place in
Prussian Silesia, the parents thought it advisable that the too diligent
Frederick should accompany her, and drink whey for the benefit of his
health. The travelling party consisted of the mother, two sisters,
and himself. A letter which he wrote on August 28, 1826, to his friend
William Kolberg, furnishes some information about his doings there. It
contains, as letters from watering-places usually do, criticisms of the
society and accounts of promenadings, excursions, regular meals, and
early hours in going to bed and in rising. As the greater part of the
contents can be of no interest to us, I shall confine myself to picking
up what seems to me worth preserving. He had been drinking whey and the
waters for a fortnight and found he was getting somewhat stouter and at
the same time lazy. People said he began to look better. He enjoyed
the sight of the valleys from the hills which surround Reinerz, but
the climbing fatigued him, and he had sometimes to drag himself down
on all-fours. One mountain, the rocky Heuscheuer, he and other delicate
persons were forbidden to ascend, as the doctor was afraid that the
sharp air at the top would do his patients harm. Of course, Frederick
tried to make fun of everything and everyone--for instance, of the
wretched wind-band, which consisted of about a dozen "caricatures,"
among whom a lean bassoon-player with a snuffy hook-nose was the most
notable. To the manners of the country, which in some respects seem to
have displeased him, he got gradually accustomed.

   At first I was astonished that in Silesia the women work
   generally more than the men, but as I am doing nothing myself
   just now I have no difficulty in falling in with this
   arrangement.

During his stay at Reinerz he gave also a concert on behalf of two
orphans who had come with their sick mother to this watering-place, and
at her death were left so poor as to be unable even to pay the funeral
expenses and to return home with the servant who took care of them.

From Reinerz Frederick went to Strzyzewo, the property of Madame
Wiesiolowska, his godmother, and sister of his godfather, Count
Frederick Skarbek. While he was spending here the rest of his holidays,
he took advantage of an invitation he had received from Prince Radziwill
(governor of the grand duchy of Posen, and, through his wife, a daughter
of Prince Ferdinand, related to the royal family of Prussia) to visit
him at his country-seat Antonin, which was not very far from Strzyzewo.
The Prince, who had many relations in Poland, and paid frequent visits
to that country, must on these occasions have heard of and met with the
musical prodigy that was the pet of the aristocracy. Moreover, it is
on record that he was present at the concert at Warsaw in 1825 at
which Frederick played. We have already considered and disposed of the
question whether the Prince, as has been averred by Liszt, paid for
young Chopin's education. As a dilettante Prince Radziwill occupied a
no less exalted position in art and science than as a citizen and
functionary in the body politic. To confine ourselves to music, he was
not only a good singer and violoncellist, but also a composer; and in
composition he did not confine himself to songs, duets, part-songs, and
the like, but undertook the ambitious and arduous task of writing music
to the first part of Goethe's Faust. By desire of the Court the Berlin
Singakademie used to bring this work to a hearing once every year, and
they gave a performance of it even as late as 1879. An enthusiastic
critic once pronounced it to be among modern works one of those that
evince most genius. The vox populi seems to have repealed this judgment,
or rather never to have taken cognisance of the case, for outside Berlin
the work has not often been heard. Dr. Langhans wrote to me after the
Berlin performance in 1879:--

   I heard yesterday Radziwill's Faust for the first time, and,
   I may add, with much satisfaction; for the old-fashioned
   things to be found in it (for instance, the utilisation of
   Mozart's C minor Quartet fugue as overture, the strictly
   polyphonous treatment of the choruses, &c.) are abundantly
   compensated for by numerous traits of genius, and by the
   thorough knowledge and the earnest intention with which the
   work is conceived and executed. He dares incredible things in
   the way of combining speech and song. That this combination
   is an inartistic one, on that point we are no doubt at one,
   but what he has effected by this means is nevertheless in the
   highest degree remarkable....

By-and-by Chopin will pay the Prince a longer visit, and then we shall
learn what he thought of Faust, and how he enjoyed himself at this
nobleman's house.

Chopin's studies at the Lyceum terminated in the year 1827. Through his
final examination, however, he did not pass so brilliantly as through
his previous ones; this time he carried off no prize. The cause of this
falling-off is not far to seek; indeed, has already been hinted at.
Frederick's inclination and his successes as a pianist and composer,
and the persuasions of Elsner and other musical friends, could not
but lessen and at last altogether dispel any doubts and misgivings the
parents may at first have harboured. And whilst in consequence of this
change of attitude they became less exacting with their son in the
matter of school-work, the latter, feeling the slackening of the reins,
would more and more follow his natural bent. The final examination was
to him, no doubt, a kind of manumission which freed him from the last
remnant of an oppressive bondage. Henceforth, then, Chopin could,
unhindered by disagreeable tasks or other obstacles, devote his whole
time and strength to the cultivation of his chosen art. First, however,
he spent now, as in the preceding year, some weeks with his friends
in Strzyzewo, and afterwards travelled to Danzig, where he visited
Superintendent von Linde, a brother of the rector of the Warsaw Lyceum.

Chopin was fond of listening to the singing and fiddling of the country
people; and everyone acquainted with the national music of Poland as
well as with the composer's works knows that he is indebted to it
for some of the most piquant rhythmic, melodic, and even harmonic
peculiarities of his style. These longer stays in the country would
offer him better opportunities for the enjoyment and study of this land
of music than the short excursions which he occasionally made with his
father into the neighbourhood of Warsaw. His wonder always was who
could have composed the quaint and beautiful strains of those mazurkas,
polonaises, and krakowiaks, and who had taught these simple men and
women to play and sing so truly in tune. The conditions then existing
in Poland were very favourable to the study of folk-lore of any kind.
Art-music had not yet corrupted folk-music; indeed, it could hardly be
said that civilisation had affected the lower strata of society at
all. Notwithstanding the emancipation of the peasants in 1807, and the
confirmation of this law in 1815--a law which seems to have remained
for a long time and in a great measure a dead letter--the writer of an
anonymous book, published at Boston in 1834, found that the freedom of
the wretched serfs in Russian Poland was much the same as that of their
cattle, they being brought up with as little of human cultivation; nay,
that the Polish peasant, poor in every part of the country, was of all
the living creatures he had met with in this world or seen described
in books, the most wretched. From another publication we learn that the
improvements in public instruction, however much it may have benefited
the upper classes, did not affect the lowest ones: the parish schools
were insufficient, and the village schools not numerous enough. But the
peasants, although steeped in superstition and ignorance, and too much
addicted to brandy-drinking with its consequences--quarrelsomeness and
revengefulness--had not altogether lost the happier features of their
original character--hospitality, patriotism, good-naturedness, and,
above all, cheerfulness and love of song and dance. It has been said
that a simple Slavonic peasant can be enticed by his national songs
from one end of the world to the other. The delight which the Slavonic
nations take in dancing seems to be equally great. No other nation,
it has been asserted, can compare with them in ardent devotion to
this amusement. Moreover, it is noteworthy that song and dance were in
Poland--as they were of course originally everywhere--intimately
united. Heine gives a pretty description of the character of the Polish
peasant:--

   It cannot be denied [he writes] that the Polish peasant has
   often more head and heart than the German peasant in some
   districts. Not infrequently did I find in the meanest Pole
   that original wit (not Gemuthswitz, humour) which on every
   occasion bubbles forth with wonderful iridescence, and that
   dreamy sentimental trait, that brilliant flashing of an
   Ossianic feeling for nature whose sudden outbreaks on
   passionate occasions are as involuntary as the rising of the
   blood into the face.

The student of human nature and its reflex in art will not call these
remarks a digression; at least, not one deserving of censure.

We may suppose that Chopin, after his return to Warsaw and during the
following winter, and the spring and summer of 1828, continued his
studies with undiminished and, had this been possible, with redoubled
ardour. Some of his compositions that came into existence at this time
were published after his death by his friend Julius Fontana, who was a
daily visitor at his parents' house. We have a Polonaise (D minor) and a
Nocturne (E minor) of 1827, and another Polonaise (B flat) and the Rondo
for two pianos of 1828. The Sonata, Op. 4, and La ci darem la mano,
varie for pianoforte, with orchestral accompaniments, belong also to
this time. The Trio (Op. 8), although not finished till 1829, was begun
and considerably advanced in 1828. Several of the above compositions are
referred to in a letter written by him on September 9, 1828, to one
of his most intimate friends, Titus Woyciechowski. The Rondo in C had
originally a different form and was recast by him for two pianos at
Strzyzewo, where he passed the whole summer of 1828. He tried it
with Ernemann, a musician living in Warsaw, at the warehouse of the
pianoforte-manufacturer Buchholtz, and was pretty well pleased with his
work.

   We intend to play it some day at the Ressource. As to my new
   compositions, I have nothing to show except the as yet
   unfinished Trio (G minor), which I began after your
   departure. The first Allegro I have already tried with
   accompaniment. It appears to me that this trio will have the
   same fate as my sonata and the variations. Both works are now
   in Vienna; the first I have, as a pupil of Elsner's,
   dedicated to him, and on the second I have placed (perhaps
   too boldly) your name. I followed in this the impulse of my
   heart and you will not take it unkindly.

The opportunities which Warsaw offered being considered insufficient for
the completion of his artistic education, ways and means were discussed
as to how his wants could be best provided for. The upshot of the
discussions was the project of excursions to Berlin and Vienna. As,
however, this plan was not realised till the autumn of 1828, and
no noteworthy incidents or interesting particulars concerning the
intervening period of his life have become known, I shall utilise this
break in the narrative by trying my hand at a slight sketch of that
terra incognita, the history of music in Poland, more particularly the
history of the musical life in Warsaw, shortly before and in Chopin's
time. I am induced to undertake this task by the consideration that a
knowledge of the means of culture within the reach of Chopin during his
residence in the Polish capital is indispensable if we wish to form a
clear and complete idea of the artist's development, and that such
a knowledge will at the same time help us to understand better the
contents of some of the subsequent portions of this work. Before,
however, I begin a new chapter and with it the above-mentioned sketch, I
should like to advert to a few other matters.

The reader may perhaps already have asked the question--What was Chopin
like in his outward appearance? As I have seen a daguerreotype from a
picture painted when he was seventeen, I can give some sort of answer to
this question. Chopin's face was clearly and finely cut, especially
the nose with its wide nostrils; the forehead was high, the eyebrows
delicate, the lips thin, and the lower one somewhat protruding. For
those who know A. Bovy's medallion I may add that the early portrait is
very like it; only, in the latter, the line formed by the lower jawbone
that runs from the chin towards the ear is more rounded, and the whole
has a more youthful appearance. As to the expression, it is not only
meditative but even melancholy. This last point leads me naturally to
another question. The delicate build of Chopin's body, his early death
preceded by many years of ill-health, and the character of his music,
have led people into the belief that from childhood he was always sickly
in body, and for the most part also melancholy in disposition. But as
the poverty and melancholy, so also disappears on closer investigation
the sickliness of the child and youth. To jump, however, from this to
the other extreme, and assert that he enjoyed vigorous health, would be
as great a mistake. Karasowski, in his eagerness to controvert Liszt,
although not going quite this length, nevertheless overshoots the mark.
Besides it is a misrepresentation of Liszt not to say that the passage
excerpted from his book, and condemned as not being in accordance with
the facts of the case, is a quotation from G. Sand's novel Lucrezia
Floriani (of which more will be said by-and-by), in which the authoress
is supposed, although this was denied by her, to have portrayed Chopin.
Liszt is a poet, not a chronicler; he must be read as such, and not
be taken au pied de la lettre. However, even Karasowski, in whom one
notices a perhaps unconscious anxiety to keep out of sight anything
which might throw doubt on the health and strength of his hero, is
obliged to admit that Chopin was "delicate," although he hastens to
add, "but nevertheless healthy and pretty strong." It seems to me
that Karasowski makes too much of the statement of a friend of
Chopin's--namely, that the latter was, up to manhood, only once ill, and
then with nothing worse than a cold. Indeed, in Karasowski's narrative
there are not wanting indications that the health of Chopin cannot have
been very vigorous; nor his strength have amounted to much; for in one
place we read that the youth was no friend of long excursions on foot,
and preferred to lie down and dream under beautiful trees; in another
place, that his parents sent him to Reinerz and some years afterwards
to Vienna, because they thought his studies had affected his health,
and that rest and change of air and scene would restore his strength.
Further, we are told that his mother and sisters never tired of
recommending him to wrap up carefully in cold and wet weather, and
that, like a good son and brother, he followed their advice. Lastly,
he objected to smoking. Some of the items of this evidence are very
trivial, but taken collectively they have considerable force. Of greater
significance are the following additional items. Chopin's sister Emilia
was carried off at the age of fourteen by pulmonary disease, and his
father, as a physician informed me, died of a heart and chest complaint.
Stephen Heller, who saw Chopin in 1830 in Warsaw, told me that the
latter was then in delicate health, thin and with sunken cheeks, and
that the people of Warsaw said that he could not live long, but would,
like so many geniuses, die young. The real state of the matter seems
to me to have been this. Although Chopin in his youth was at no time
troubled with any serious illness, he enjoyed but fragile health, and if
his frame did not alreadv contain the seeds of the disease to which he
later fell a prey, it was a favourable soil for their reception.
How easily was an organisation so delicately framed over-excited and
disarranged! Indeed, being vivacious, active, and hard-working, as he
was, he lived on his capital. The fire of youth overcame much, not,
however, without a dangerous waste of strength, the lamentable results
of which we shall see before we have gone much farther. This statement
of the case we find, I think, confirmed by Chopin's correspondence--the
letter written at Reinerz is in this respect noteworthy.



CHAPTER V.



MUSIC AND MUSICIANS IN POLAND BEFORE AND IN CHOPIN'S TIME.



THE golden age of Polish music, which coincides with that of Polish
literature, is the sixteenth century, the century of the Sigismonds. The
most remarkable musician of that time, and probably the greatest that
Poland produced previous to the present century, was Nicolas Gomolka,
who studied music in Italy, perhaps under Palestrina, in whose style
he wrote. Born in or about the beginning of the second half of the
sixteenth century, he died on March 5, 1609. During the reigns of the
kings of the house of Saxony (1697-1763) instrumental music is said
to have made much progress. Be this as it may, there was no lack of
opportunities to study good examples. Augustus the Strong (I. of
Saxony and II of Poland) established a special Polish band, called,
in contradistinction to the Grosse Kammermusik (Great Chamber-band) in
Dresden, Kleine Kammermusik (Little Chamber-band), whose business it was
to be in attendance when his majesty went to Poland. These visits took
place usually once a year, and lasted from, August to December, but
sometimes were more frequent, and shorter or longer, just as occasion
might call for. Among the members of the Polish band--which consisted
of a leader (Premier), four violins, one oboe, two French horns, three
bassoons, and one double bass--we meet with such well-known men as
Johann Joachim Quanz and Franz Benda. Their conductor was Alberto
Ristori, who at the same time held the post of composer to the Italian
actors, a company that, besides plays, performed also little operas,
serenades, intermezzi, &c. The usual retinue of the King on his visits
to Poland included also a part of the French ballet and comedy. These
travels of the artistic forces must have been rich in tragic, comic, and
tragi-comic incidents, and would furnish splendid material for the pen
of a novelist. But such a journey from the Saxon capital to Warsaw,
which took about eight days, and cost on an average from 3,000 to
3,500 thalers (450 to 525 pounds), was a mere nothing compared with the
migration of a Parisian operatic company in May, 1700. The ninety-three
members of which it was composed set out in carriages and drove by
Strasburg to Ulm, there they embarked and sailed to Cracow, whence the
journey was continued on rafts. [FOOTNOTE: M. Furstenau, Zur Geschichte
der Music und des Theaters am Hofe zu Dresden.] So much for artistic
tours at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Frederick Augustus (II
of Saxony and III of Poland, 1733-1763) dissolved the Polish band, and
organised a similar body which was destined solely for Poland, and was
to be resident there. It consisted in 1753 of an organist, two singers,
twenty instrumentalists (almost all Germans), and a band-servant, their
salary amounting to 5,383 thalers, 10 groschen (a little more than 805
pounds). Notwithstanding this new arrangement, the great Dresden band
sometimes accompanied the King to Poland, and when it did not, some of
its members at least had to be in attendance for the performance of the
solos at the chamber concerts and in the operas. Also such singers, male
and female, as were required for the operas proposed for representation
had to take to the road. Hasse and his wife Faustina came several times
to Poland. That the constellation of the Dresden musical establishment,
in its vocal as well as instrumental department, was one of the most
brilliant imaginable is sufficiently proved by a glance at the names
which we meet with in 1719: Lotti, Heinichen, Veracini, Volumier,
Senesino, Tesi, Santa Stella Lotti, Durastanti, &c. Rousseau, writing in
1754, calls the Dresden orchestra the first in Europe. And Burney says
in 1772 that the instrumental performers had been some time previously
of the first class. No wonder, then, if the visits of such artists
improved the instrumental music of Poland.

From Sowinski's Les Musiciens Polonais we learn that on great occasions
the King's band was reinforced by those of Prince Czartoryski and Count
Wielhorski, thus forming a body of 100 executants. This shows that
outside the King's band good musicians were to be found in Poland.
Indeed, to keep in their service private bands of native and foreign
singers and players was an ancient custom among the Polish magnates; it
obtained for a long time, and had not yet died out at the beginning of
this century. From this circumstance, however, we must not too rashly
conclude that these wealthy noblemen were all animated by artistic
enthusiasm. Ostentatiousness had, I am afraid, more to do with it than
love of art for art's sake. Music was simply one of the indispensable
departments of their establishments, in the splendour and vastness of
which they tried to outdo each other and vie with sovereign rulers. The
promiscuous enumeration of musicians, cooks, footmen, &c., in the lady's
description of a nobleman's court which I referred to in the proem,
is in this respect very characteristic. Towards the middle of the last
century Prince Sanguszko, who lived at Dubno, in Volhynia, had in his
service no less than two bands, to which was sometimes joined a third
belonging to Prince Lubomirski. But, it will be asked, what music did
they play? An author of Memoirs of the reign of Augustus III tells us
that, according to the Polish fashion, they had during meal-times
to play national airs, polonaises, mazurkas, &c., arranged for
wind-instruments, with or without violins. For special occasions the
Prince got a new kind of music, then much in favour--viz., a band of
mountaineers playing on flutes and drums. And while the guests were
sitting at the banquet, horns, trumpets, and fifes sounded fanfares.
Besides the ordinary and extraordinary bands, this exalted personage
had among his musical retainers a drummer who performed solos on his
instrument. One is glad to learn that when the Prince was alone or had
little company, he took delight in listening to trios for two violins
and bass, it being then the fashion to play such ensemble pieces. Count
Ilinski, the father of the composer John Stanislas Ilinski, engaged for
his private theatre two companies, one from Germany and one from Italy.
The persons employed in the musical department of his household numbered
124. The principal band, conducted by Dobrzyrnski pere, a good violinist
and conductor, consisted of four violins, one viola, one violoncello,
one double bass, one flute, one oboe, one clarinet, and one bassoon.
Villagers were trained by these players to assist them. Then there
was yet another band, one of wind instruments, under the direction of
Karelli, a pupil of the Russian composer Bartnianski [Footnote: The
Russian Palestrina, whose name is oftener met with in the forms of
Bortnianski and Bortniansky]. The chorus was composed of twenty four
voices, picked from the young people on Count Ilinski's estates. However
questionable the taste of many of these noble art patrons may have been,
there were not wanting some who cultivated music with a purer spirit.
Some of the best bands were those of the Princes D. Radziwill, Adam
Czartoryski, F. Sulkowski, Michael Lubomirski, Counts Ilinski, Oginski,
and Wielhorski. Our inquiry into the cultivation of music at the courts
of the Polish magnates has carried us beyond the point we had reached in
our historical survey. Let us now retrace our steps.

The progress of music above spoken of was arrested by the anarchy and
the civil and other wars that began to rage in Poland with such fury in
the middle of the last century. King Stanislas Poniatowski (1764-1795)
is credited with having exercised great influence on the music of
Poland; at any rate, he patronised the arts and sciences right royally.
The Italian opera at Warsaw cannot have been of mean standing, seeing
that artists such as the composers Paisiello and Cimarosa, and the great
violinist, composer, and conductor Pugnani, with his pupil Viotti (the
latter playing second violin in the orchestra), were members of the
company. And the King's band of foreign and native players has been
called one of the best in Europe. Still, all this was but the hothouse
bloom of exotics. To bring about a natural harvest of home produce
something else was wanted than royal patronage, and this something
sprang from the series of disasters that befell the nation in the latter
half of the last century, and by shaking it to its very heart's core
stirred up its nobler self. As in literature, so in music, the national
element came now more and more into action and prominence.

Up to 1778 there had been heard in Poland only Italian and French
operas; in this year, for the first time, a Polish opera was put on
the stage. It is true the beginning was very modest. The early attempts
contained few ensemble pieces, no choruses, and no complex finales. But
a new art does not rise from the mind of a nation as Minerva is said to
have risen from the head of Jupiter. Nay, even the fact that the first
three composers of Polish operas (Kamienski, Weynert, and Kajetani) were
not Poles, but foreigners endeavouring to write in the Polish style,
does not destroy the significance of the movement. The following
statistics will, no doubt, take the reader by surprise:--From the
foundation of the national Polish opera in 1778 till April 20, 1859,
5,917 performances of 285 different operas with Polish words took place
in Poland. Of these 92 were national Polish operas, the remaining 193 by
Italian, French, and German composers; 1,075 representations being given
of the former, 4,842 of the latter. The libretti of 41 of the 92 Polish
operas were originals, the other 51 were translations. And, lastly, the
majority of the 16 musicians who composed the 92 Polish operas were not
native Poles, but Czechs, Hungarians, and Germans [FOOTNOTE: Ladislas
von Trocki, Die Entwickelung der Oper in Polen. (Leipzig, 1867.)]

A step hardly less important than the foundation of a national opera was
the formation, in 1805, of a Musical Society, which had for its object
the improvement as well as the amusement of its members. The idea, which
originated in the head of one of the Prussian officials then in Warsaw,
finding approval, and the pecuniary supplies flowing in abundantly, the
Oginski Palace was rented and fitted up, two masters were engaged for
the teaching of solo and choral singing, and a number of successful
concerts were given. The chief promoters seem to have been Count
Krasinski and the two Prussian officials Mosqua and E. Th. A. Hoffmann.
In the last named the reader will recognise the famous author of
fantastic tales and of no less fantastic musical criticisms, the
conductor and composer of operas and other works, &c. According to his
biographer, J. E. Hitzig, Hoffmann did not take much interest in the
proceedings of the Musical Ressource (that was the name of the society)
till it bought the Mniszech Palace, a large building, which, having been
damaged by fire, had to undergo extensive repairs. Then, indeed, he
set to work with a will, planned the arrangement and fitting-up of the
rooms, designed and partly painted the decorations--not without freely
indulging his disposition for caricature--and when all was ready, on
August 3, 1806 (the King of Prussia's birthday), conducted the first
concert in the splendid new hall. The activity of the society was great,
and must have been beneficial; for we read that they had every Sunday
performances of quartets and other kinds of chamber music, that ladies
frequently came forward with pianoforte sonatas, and that when the
celebrated violinist Moser, of Berlin, visited Warsaw, he made them
acquainted with the finest quartets of Mozart and Haydn. Still, I should
not have dwelt so long on the doings of the Musical Ressource were it
not that it was the germ of, or at least gave the impulse to, even more
influential associations and institutions that were subsequently founded
with a view to the wider diffusion and better cultivation of the musical
art in Poland. After the battle of Jena the French were not long in
making their appearance in Warsaw, whereby an end was put to Prussia's
rule there, and her officials were sent about, or rather sent out of,
their business. Thus the Musical Ressource lost many of its members,
Hoffmann and Mosqua among others. Still, it survived, and was
reconstructed with more national elements. In Frederick Augustus of
Saxony's reign it is said to have been transformed into a school of
singing.

The year 1815 brought into existence two musical institutions that
deserve to be noticed--society for the cultivation of church music,
which met at the College of the Pianists, and had at its head Count
Zabiello as president and Elsner as conductor; and an association,
organised by the last-named musician, and presided over by the Princess
Sophia Zamoyska, which aimed at the advancement of the musical art in
Poland, and provided for the education of music teachers for schools,
organists for churches, and singers for the stage. Although I try to
do my best with the unsatisfactory and often contradictory newspaper
reports and dictionary articles from which I have to draw my data, I
cannot vouch for the literal correctness of my notes. In making use of
Sowinski's work I am constantly reminded of Voltaire's definition of
dictionaries: "Immenses archives de mensonges et d'un peu de verite."
Happy he who need not consult them! In 1816 Elsner was entrusted by the
minister Staszyc with the direction of a school of dramatic singing and
recitation; and in 1821, to crown all previous efforts, a conservatorium
was opened, the programme of which might almost have satisfied a
Berlioz. The department of instrumental music not only comprised
sections for the usual keyed, stringed, and wind instruments, but also
one for instruments of percussion. Solo and choral singing were to be
taught with special regard to dramatic expression. Besides these and the
theoretical branches of music, the curriculum included dancing, Polish
literature, French, and Italian. After reading the programme it is
superfluous to be informed that the institution was chiefly intended for
the training of dramatic artists. Elsner, who was appointed director,
selected the teaching staff, with one exception, however, that of the
first singing-master, for which post the Government engaged the composer
Carlo Evasio Soliva, a pupil of Asioli and Frederici.

The musical taste and culture prevailing in Poland about 1819 is pretty
accurately described by a German resident at Cracow. So far as music was
concerned Poland had hitherto been ignored by the rest of Europe, and
indeed could lay no claim to universal notice in this respect. But the
improved culture and greater insight which some had acquired in foreign
lands were good seeds that began to bear fruit. As yet, however, the
greater part of the public took little or no interest in the better
class of music, and was easily pleased and satisfied with polonaises,
mazurkas, and other trivial things. In fact, the music in Cracow,
notwithstanding the many professional musicians and amateurs living
there, was decidedly bad, and not comparable to the music in many a
small German town. In Warsaw, where the resources were more plentiful,
the state of music was of course also more prosperous. Still, as late
as 1815 we meet with the complaint that what was chiefly aimed at in
concerts was the display of virtuosity, and that grand, serious works
were neglected, and complete symphonies rarely performed. To remedy this
evil, therefore, 150 amateurs combined and organised in 1818 a concert
institution. Their concerts took place once a week, and at every meeting
a new and entire symphony, an overture, a concerto, an aria, and
a finale, were performed. The names of Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart,
Cherubini, Spohr, Mehul, Romberg, &c., were to be found on their
programmes. Strange to say, there were no less than seven conductors:
Lessel, Lentz, Wurfel, Haase, Javurek, Stolpe, and Peschke, all good
musicians. The orchestra consisted in part of amateurs, who were
most numerous among the violins, tenors, and violoncellos. The solo
department seems to have been well stocked. To confine ourselves to one
instrument, they could pride themselves on having four excellent
lady pianists, one of whom distinguished herself particularly by
the wonderful dexterity with which she played the most difficult
compositions of Beethoven, Field, Ries, and Dussek. Another good sign
of the improving taste was a series of twenty-four matinees given
on Sundays from twelve to two during the winter of 1818-1819 by Carl
Arnold, and much patronised by the highest nobility. The concert-giver,
a clever pianist and composer, who enjoyed in his day a good reputation
in Germany, Russia, and Poland, produced at every matinee a new
pianoforte concerto by one of the best composers--sometimes one of
his own--and was assisted by the quartet party of Bielawski, a good
violinist, leader in the orchestra, and professor at the Conservatorium.
Although Arnold's stay was not of long duration, his departure did not
leave the town without good pianists. Indeed, it is a mistake to suppose
that Warsaw was badly off with regard to musicians. This will be evident
to the reader as soon as I have named some of those living there in
the time of Chopin. Wenzel W. Wurfel, one of the professors at the
Conservatorium, who stayed in Warsaw from 1815 to 1824, and afterwards
went to Vienna, where he became conductor at the Karnthnerthor Theater,
was an esteemed pianist and composer, and frequently gave concerts, at
one of which he played Field's Concerto in C.

[FOOTNOTE: Wenzel Wilhelm Wurfel, in most dictionaries called Wilhelm
Wurfel (exceptions are: E. Bernsdorf's "Neues Universal-Lexikon
der Tonkunst", and Dr. Hugo Riemann's "Opern-Handbuch"). A Warsaw
correspondent of a German musical paper called him Waclaw Wurfel. In
Whistling's "Handbuch der musikalischen Literatur" his Christian names
are only indicated by initials--W. W.]

If we scan the list of professors at the Conservatorium we find other
musicians whose reputation was not confined to the narrow limits of
Warsaw or even Poland. There was, for instance, the pianist and
composer Franz Lessel, the favourite pupil of Haydn; and, further, that
interesting character Heinrich Gerhard Lentz, who, born and educated at
Cologne, went in 1784 to Paris, played with success his first concerto
at the Concert Spirituel, published some of his compositions and taught
in the best families, arrived in London in 1791, lived in friendly
intercourse with Clementi and Haydn, and had compositions of his
performed at Solomon's concerts, returned to Germany in 1795, stayed
with Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia till Dussek supplanted him, and
so, wandering about, reached Warsaw, where he gave lessons, founded
a pianoforte manufactory, became professor of the organ at the
Conservatorium, married twice, and died in 1839. The only other
professor at the Conservatorium about whom I shall say a few words is C.
E. Soliva, whose name and masters I have already mentioned. Of his works
the opera "La testa di bronzo" is the best known. I should have said
"was," for nobody now knows anything of his. That loud, shallow talker
Count Stendhal, or, to give him his real name, Marie Henry Beyle, heard
it at Milan in 1816, when it was first produced. He had at first some
difficulty in deciding whether Soliva showed himself in that opera a
plagiarist of Mozart or a genius. Finally he came to the conclusion
that--

   there is in it a warmth, a dramatic life, and a strength in
   all its effects, which are decidedly not in the style of
   Mozart. But Soliva, who is a young man and full of the
   warmest admiration for Mozart, has imbibed certain tints of
   his colouring.
The rest is too outrageously ridiculous to be quoted. Whatever Beyle's
purely literary merits and his achievements in fiction may be, I quite
agree with Berlioz, who remarks, a propos of this gentleman's Vie de
Rossini, that he writes "les plus irritantes stupidites sur la musique,
dont il croyait avoir le secret." To which cutting dictum may be added
a no less cutting one of M. Lavoix fils, who, although calling Beyle
an "ecrivain d'esprit," applies to him the appellation of "fanfaron
d'ignorance en musique." I would go a step farther than either of these
writers. Beyle is an ignorant braggart, not only in music, but in art
generally, and such esprit as his art criticisms exhibit would be even
more common than it unfortunately now is, if he were oftener equalled
in conceit and arrogance. The pillorying of a humbug is so laudable an
object that the reader will excuse the digression, which, moreover, may
show what miserable instruments a poor biographer has sometimes to
make use of. Another informant, unknown to fame, but apparently more
trustworthy, furnishes us with an account of Soliva in Warsaw. The
writer in question disapproves of the Italian master's drill-method in
teaching singing, and says that as a composer his power of invention
was inferior to his power of construction; and, further, that he was
acquainted with the scores of the best musicians of all times, and an
expert in accompanying on the pianoforte. As Elsner, Zywny, and the
pianist and composer Javurek have already been introduced to the reader,
I shall advert only to one other of the older Warsaw musicians--namely,
Charles Kurpinski, the most talented and influential native composer
then living in Poland. To him and Elsner is chiefly due the progress
which Polish music made in the first thirty years of this century.
Kurpinski came to Warsaw in 1810, was appointed second conductor at
the National Opera-house, afterwards rose to the position of first
conductor, was nominated maitre de chapelle de la cour de Varsovie, was
made a Knight of the St. Stanislas Order, &c. He is said to have learnt
composition by diligently studying Mozart's scores, and in 1811 began to
supply the theatre with dramatic works. Besides masses, symphonies,
&c., he composed twenty-four operas, and published also some theoretical
works and a sketch of the history of the Polish opera. Kurpinski was
by nature endowed with fine musical qualities, uniting sensibility and
energy with easy productivity. Chopin did homage to his distinguished
countryman in introducing into his Grande Fantaisie sur des airs
polonais, Op. 13, a theme of Kurpinski's. Two younger men, both born in
1800, must yet be mentioned to compete the picture. One of them, Moritz
Ernemann, a pupil of Mendelssohn's pianoforte-master, L. Berger,
played with success in Poland and Germany, and has been described by
contemporaries as a finished and expressive, but not brilliant, pianist.
His pleasing compositions are of an instructive and mildly-entertaining
character. The other of the two was Joseph Christoph Kessler, a musician
of very different mettle. After studying philosophy in Vienna, and
composing at the house of Count Potocki in Lemberg his celebrated
Etudes, Op. 20 (published at Vienna, reprinted at Paris, recommended
by Kalkbrenner in his Methode, quoted by Fetis and Moscheles in their
Methode des Methodes, and played in part by Liszt at his concerts),
he tried in 1829 his luck in Warsaw. Schumann thought (in 1835) that
Kessler had the stuff in him to do something great, and always looked
forward with expectation to what he would yet accomplish. Kessler's
studies might be dry, but he was assuredly a "Mann von Geist und sogar
poetischem Geist." He dedicated his twenty-four Preludes, Op. 31, to
Chopin, and Chopin his twenty-four Preludes, Op. 28, to him--that is to
say, the German edition.

By this time the reader must have found out that Warsaw was not such a
musical desert as he may at first have imagined. Perfect renderings
of great orchestral works, it is true, seem to have been as yet
unattainable, and the performances of operas failed likewise to satisfy
a pure and trained taste. Nay, in 1822 it was even said that the opera
was getting worse. But when the fruits of the Conservatorium had had
time to ripen and could be gathered in, things would assume a more
promising aspect. Church music, which like other things had much
deteriorated, received a share of the attention which in this century
was given to the art. The best singing was in the Piarist and University
churches. In the former the bulk of the performers consisted of
amateurs, who, however, were assisted by members of the opera. They sang
Haydn's masses best and oftenest. In the other church the executants
were students and professors, Elsner being the conductor. Besides these
choirs there existed a number of musical associations in connection with
different churches in Warsaw. Indeed, it cannot be doubted that great
progress was made in the first thirty years of this century, and had
it not been for the unfortunate insurrection of 1830, Poland would
have succeeded in producing a national art and taking up an honourable
position among the great musical powers of Europe, whereas now it can
boast only of individual artists of more or less skill and originality.
The musical events to which the death of the Emperor Alexander I.
gave occasion in 1826, show to some extent the musical capabilities
of Warsaw. On one day a Requiem by Kozlowski (a Polish composer, then
living in St. Petersburg; b. 1757, d. 1831), with interpolations of
pieces by other composers, was performed in the Cathedral by two hundred
singers and players under Soliva. On another day Mozart's Requiem,
with additional accompaniments by Kurpinski (piccolos, flutes, oboes,
clarinets, and horns to the Dies irae and Sanctus; harps to the Hostias
and Benedictus; and a military brass-band to the closing chorus!!!), was
given in the same place by two hundred and fifty executants under
the last-mentioned musician. And in the Lutheran church took place a
performance of Elsner's Requiem for male voices, violoncellos, bassoons,
horns, trumpets, trombones, and drums.

Having made the reader acquainted with the musical sphere in which
Chopin moved, I shall take up the thread of the narrative where I left
it, and the reader may follow without fear of being again detained by so
long an interruption.



CHAPTER VI



Fourteen days in Berlin (From September 14 to 28, 1828).--Return by
Posen (Prince Radziwill) and Zullichau (anecdotes) to Warsaw.--Chopin's
doings there in the following winter and spring.--his home-life,
companions, and preparations for a journey to Vienna.


Chopin, leaving his apprenticeship behind him, was now entering on that
period of his life which we may call his Wanderjahre (years of travel).
This change in his position and circumstances demands a simultaneous
change in the manner of the biographical treatment. Hitherto we have
been much occupied with the agencies that made and moulded the man,
henceforth we shall fix our main attention on his experiences, actions,
and utterances. The materials at our disposal become now more abundant
and more trustworthy. Foremost in importance among them, up to Chopin's
arrival in Paris, are the letters he wrote at that time, the publication
of which we owe to Karasowski. As they are, however, valuable only
as chronicles of the writer's doings and feelings, and not, like
Mendelssohn's and Berlioz's, also as literary productions, I shall,
whilst fully availing myself of the information they contain, confine my
quotations from them to the characteristic passages.

Chopin's long-projected and much-desired visit to Berlin came about in
this way. In 1828 Frederick William III of Prussia requested the Berlin
University to invite the most eminent natural philosophers to take part
in a congress to be held in that city under the presidency of Alexander
von Humboldt. Nicholas Chopin's friend Dr. Jarocki, the zoologist and
professor at the Warsaw University, who had studied and obtained his
degree at Berlin, was one of those who were honoured with an invitation.
The favourable opportunity which thus presented itself to the
young musician of visiting in good company one of the centres of
civilisation--for the professor intended to comply with the invitation,
and was willing to take his friend's son under his wing--was not allowed
to slip by, on the contrary, was seized eagerly. With what feelings,
with what an infinitude of youthful hopes and expectations, Chopin
looked forward to this journey may be gathered from some expressions in
a letter of his (September 9, 1828) addressed to Titus Woyciechowski,
where he describes himself as being at the time of writing "like a
madman," and accounts for his madness by the announcement: "For I am
going to-day to Berlin." To appear in public as a pianist or composer
was not one of the objects he had in view. His dearest wishes were to
make the acquaintance of the musical celebrities of Berlin, and to
hear some really good music. From a promised performance of Spontini's
Ferdinand Cortez he anticipated great things.

Professor Jarocki and Chopin left Warsaw on the 9th of September, 1828,
and after five days' posting arrived in Berlin, where they put up at
the Kronprinz. Among the conveniences of this hotel our friend had the
pleasant surprise of finding a good grand piano. He played on it every
day, and was rewarded for his pains not only by the pleasure it gave
him, but also by the admiration of the landlord. Through his travelling
companion's friend and teacher, M. H. K. Lichtenstein, professor of
zoology and director of the Zoological Museum, who was a member of
the Singakademie and on good terms with Zelter, the conductor of that
society, he hoped to be made acquainted with the most distinguished
musicians of the Prussian capital, and looked to Prince Radziwill for
an introduction to the musical autocrat Spontini, with whom Lichtenstein
was not on a friendly footing. In these hopes, however, Chopin was
disappointed, and had to content himself with looking at the stars from
afar. Speaking of a performance of the Singakademie at which he was
present, he says:--

   Spontini, Zelter, and Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy were also
   there; but I spoke to none of these gentlemen, as I did not
   think it becoming to introduce myself.

It is not difficult to discover the circumstances that in this respect
caused matters to turn out so little in accordance with the young man's
wishes. Prince Radziwill was not in Berlin when Chopin arrived, and,
although he was expected, perhaps never came, or came too late to be
of any use. As to Lichtenstein, his time was too much taken up by his
duties as secretary to the congress. Had this not been so, the professor
could not only have brought the young artist in contact with many of
the musical celebrities in Berlin, but also have told him much about his
intimate friend Carl Maria von Weber, who had died little more than
two years before. Lichtenstein's connection with Weber was probably
the cause of his disagreement with Spontini, alluded to by Chopin.
The latter relates in an off-hand way that he was introduced to and
exchanged a few words with the editor of the Berliner Musikzeitung,
without mentioning that this was Marx. The great theorist had of course
then still to make his reputation.

One cannot help wondering at the absence from Chopin's Berlin letters
of the name of Ludwig Berger, who, no doubt, like Bernhard Klein,
Rungenhagen, the brothers Ganz, and many another composer and virtuoso
in Berlin, was included in the collective expression "distinguished
musicians." But one would have thought that the personality of the pupil
of Clementi, the companion of A. Klengel, the friend of Steibelt, Field,
and Crotch, and the teacher of Mendelssohn and Taubert, would have
particularly interested a young pianist. Berger's compositions cannot
have been unknown to Chopin, who, moreover, must have heard of him from
his Warsaw acquaintance Ernemann. However, be this as it may, our friend
was more fortunate as regards hearing good music, which certainly was a
more important business than interviewing celebrities, often, alas,
so refrigerating in its effect on enthusiastic natures. Before his
departure from Warsaw Chopin wrote:--"It is much to hear a really good
opera, were it only once; it enables one to form an idea of what a
perfect performance is like." Although the most famous singers were
on leave of absence, he greatly enjoyed the performances of Spontini's
"Ferdinand Cortez", Cimarosa's "Die heimliche Eke" ("Il Matrimonio
segreto"), Onslow's "Der Hausirer" ("Le colporteur"), and Winter's "Das
unterbrochene Opferfest." Still, they gave rise to some "buts," which
he thought would be wholly silenced only in Paris; nay, one of the two
singers he liked best, Fraulein von Schatzel (Signora Tibaldi was
the other), reminded him by her omissions of chromatic scales even of
Warsaw. What, however, affected him more than anything else was Handel's
"Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," which he heard at the Singakademie; it came
nearest, he said, to the ideal of sublime music which he harboured in
his soul. A propos of another musical event he writes:--

   To-morrow the "Freischutz" will be performed; this is the
   fulfilment of my most ardent wish. When I hear it I shall be
   able to make a comparison between the singers here and our
   own.

The "Freischutz" made its first appearance on the Warsaw stage in 1826,
and therefore was known to Chopin; whereas the other operas were either
unknown to him or were not considered decisive tests.

Music and things connected with music, such as music-shops and
pianoforte-manufactories, took up Chopin's attention almost exclusively.
He declines with thanks the offer of a ticket for the meetings of the
congress:--

   I should gain little or nothing for my mind from these
   discussions, because I am too little of a savant; and,
   moreover, the professional gentlemen might perhaps look at
   me, the layman, and think: "How comes Saul among the
   prophets?"

Of the Royal Library, to which he went with Professor Jarocki, he has
no more to say than that "it is very large, but contains few musical
works"; and when he visits the Zoological Museum, he thinks all the time
what a bore it is, and how he would rather be at Schlesinger's, the best
music-shop in the town, and an enterprising publishing house. That
he neglects many things which educated men generally prize, he feels
himself, and expresses the fear that his father will reproach him with
one-sidedness. In his excuse he says:--

   I have come to Berlin for my musical education, and the
   library of Schlesinger, consisting of the most interesting
   works of the composers of all countries and times, must
   interest me more than any other collections.

The words, he adds, add nothing to the strength of his argument.

   It is a comfort to think that I, too, shall yet come to
   Schlesinger's, and that it is always good for a young man to
   see much, as from everything something may be learnt.

According to Karasowski, who reports, no doubt faithfully, what he has
heard, Chopin was so well versed in all the branches of science, which
he cultivated at the Lyceum, that all who knew him were astonished at
his attainments, and prognosticated for him a brilliant future. I am
afraid the only authorities for this statement were the parents, the
sisters, and other equally indiscriminately-admiring connections, who
often discover genius where it is hidden from the cold, unfeeling world
outside this sympathetic circle. Not that I would blame an amiable
weakness without which love, friendship, in short, happiness were
well-nigh impossible. Only a biographer who wishes to represent a man as
he really was, and not as he appeared to be to one or more individuals,
has to be on his guard against it. Let us grant at once that Chopin made
a good figure at the Lyceum--indeed, a quick-witted boy who found
help and encouragement at home (the secret of almost all successful
education) could hardly do otherwise. But from this to a master of all
the arts, to an admirable Crichton, is a great step. Where there is
genius there is inclination. Now, however well Chopin acquitted himself
of his school-tasks--and even therein you will remember a falling-off
was noticeable when outward pressure ceased--science and kindred
subjects were subsequently treated by him with indifference. The
thorough training which he received in general knowledge entirely failed
to implant in him the dispositions of a scholar or thinker. His nature
was perhaps a soil unfavourable to such growths, and certainly already
preoccupied by a vegetation the luxuriance of which excluded, dwarfed,
or crushed everything else. The truth of these remarks is proved
by Chopin's letters and his friends' accounts of his tastes and
conversation. In connection with this I may quote a passage from a
letter which Chopin wrote immediately before starting on his Berlin
trip. Jedrzejewicz, a gentleman who by-and-by became Chopin's
brother-in-law, and was just then staying in Paris, made there the
acquaintance of the Polish musician Sowinski. The latter hearing thus of
his talented countryman in Warsaw, and being co-editor with Fetis of the
"Revue musicale" (so at least we read in the letter in question, but
it is more likely that Sowinski was simply a contributor to the paper),
applied to him for a description of the state of music in Poland, and
biographical notes on the most celebrated executants and composers. Now
let us see what Chopin says in reference to this request.

   All these are things with which I have no intention to
   meddle. I shall write to him from Berlin that this affair is
   not in my line, and that, moreover, I cannot yet form a
   judgment such as would be worthy of a Parisian journal, which
   must contain only mature and competent opinions, &c.

How much of this is self-knowledge, modesty, or disinclination, I leave
the reader to decide, who, no doubt, will smile at the young man's
innocence in imagining that Parisian, or, indeed, any journals
distinguish themselves generally by maturity and competence of judgment.

At the time of the Berlin visit Chopin was a lively, well-educated, and
well-mannered youth, who walked through life pleased and amused with
its motley garb, but as yet unconscious of the deeper truths, and the
immensities of joy and sadness, of love and hate, that lie beneath.
Although the extreme youthfulness, nay boyishness, of the letters
written by him at that time, and for some time after, makes him appear
younger than he really was, the criticisms and witticisms on what is
going on around which they contain, show incontestably that he had
more than the usual share of clear and quick-sightedness. His power of
observation, however, was directed rather to dress, manners, and the
peculiarities and eccentricities of outward appearance generally, than
to the essentials which are not always indicated and are often hidden
by them. As to his wit, it had a decided tendency towards satire and
caricature. He notices the pleasing orderliness and cleanliness of the
otherwise not well-favoured surroundings of Berlin as he approaches,
considers the city itself too much extended for the number of its
inhabitants, of 

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