Frederick Chopin as a Man and Musician, Volume 2 (of 2)

Frederick Niecks

Third Edition (1902)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

 CHAPTERS XX-XXXII APPENDICES I-IX REMARKS PRELIMINARY TO THE LIST OF CHOPIN'S WORKS. LIST OF CHOPIN'S PUBLISHED WORKS

CHAPTER XX. 

1836--1838. 

THE LOVES OF CELEBRITIES. --VARIOUS ACCOUNTS OF CHOPIN AND GEORGESAND'S FIRST MEETING. --CHOPIN'S FIRST IMPRESSION OF HER. --ACOMPARISON OF THE TWO CHARACTERS. --PORTRAYALS OF CHOPIN ANDGEORGE SAND. --HER POWER OF PLEASING. --CHOPIN'S PUBLICATIONS IN1837 AND 1838. --HE PLAYS AT COURT AND AT CONCERTS IN PARIS ANDROUEN. --CRITICISM. 

THE loves of famous men and women, especially of those connectedwith literature and the fine arts, have always excited muchcuriosity. In the majority of cases the poet's and artist'schoice of a partner falls on a person who is incapable ofcomprehending his aims and sometimes even of sympathising withhis striving. The question "why poets are so apt to choose theirmates, not for any similarity of poetical endowment, but forqualities which might make the happiness of the rudesthandicrafts-man as well as that of the ideal craftsman" hasperhaps never been better answered than by Nathaniel Hawthorne, who remarks that "at his highest elevation the poet needs nohuman intercourse; but he finds it dreary to descend, and be astranger. " Still, this is by no means a complete solution of theproblem which again and again presents itself and challenges ouringenuity. Chopin and George Sand's case belongs to the smallminority of loves where both parties are distinguishedpractitioners of ideal crafts. Great would be the mistake, however, were we to assume that the elective affinities of suchlovers are easily discoverable On the contrary, we have hereanother problem, one which, owing to the higher, finer, and morevaried factors that come into play, is much more difficult tosolve than the first. But before we can engage in solving theproblem, it must be properly propounded. Now, to ascertain factsabout the love-affairs of poets and artists is the very reverseof an easy task; and this is so partly because the partiesnaturally do not let outsiders into all their secrets, and partlybecause romantic minds and imaginative litterateurs are alwaysbusy developing plain facts and unfounded rumours into wonderfulmyths. The picturesqueness of the story, the piquancy of theanecdote, is generally in inverse proportion to the narrator'sknowledge of the matter in question. In short, truth is only toooften most unconscionably sacrificed to effect. Accounts, forinstance, such as L. Enault and Karasowski have given of Chopin'sfirst meeting with George Sand can be recommended only to thosewho care for amusing gossip about the world of art, and do notmind whether what they read is the simple truth or not, nay, donot mind even whether it has any verisimilitude. Nevertheless, wewill give these gentlemen a hearing, and then try if we cannotfind some firmer ground to stand on. 

L. Enault relates that Chopin and George Sand met for the firsttime at one of the fetes of the Marquis de C. , where thearistocracy of Europe assembled--the aristocracy of genius, ofbirth, of wealth, of beauty, &c. :--

 The last knots of the chaine anglaise had already been untied, the brilliant crowd had left the ball-room, the murmur of discreet conversation was heard in the boudoirs: the fetes of the intimate friends began. Chopin seated himself at the piano. He played one of those ballads whose words are written by no poet, but whose subjects, floating in the dreamy soul of nations, belong to the artist who likes to take them. I believe it was the Adieux du Cavalier. .. Suddenly, in the middle of the ballad, he perceived, close to the door, immovable and pale, the beautiful face of Lelia. [FOOTNOTE: This name of the heroine of one of her romances is often given to George Sand. See Vol. I. , p. 338. ] She fixed her passionate and sombre eyes upon him; the impressionable artist felt at the same time pain and pleasure. .. Others might listen to him: he played only for her. 

 They met again. 

 From this moment fears vanished, and these two noble souls understood each other. .. Or believed they understood each other. 

Karasowski labours hard to surpass Enault, but is not like him amaster of the ars artem celare. The weather, he tells us, wasdull and damp, and had a depressing effect on the mind of Chopin. No friend had visited him during the day, no book entertainedhim, no musical idea gladdened him. It was nearly ten o'clock atnight (the circumstantiality of the account ought to inspireconfidence) when he bethought himself of paying a visit to theCountess C. (the Marquis, by some means, magical or natural, hasbeen transformed into a Countess), this being her jour fixe, onwhich an intellectual and agreeable company was always assembledat her house. 

 When he ascended the carpet-covered stairs [Unfortunately we are not informed whether the carpet was Turkey, Brussels, or Kidderminster], it seemed to him as if he were followed by a shadow that diffused a fragrance of violets [Ah!], and a presentiment as if something strange and wonderful were going to happen to him flashed through his soul. He was on the point of turning back and going home, but, laughing at his own superstition, he bounded lightly and cheerfully over the last steps. 

Skipping the fine description of the brilliant company assembledin the salon, the enumeration of the topics on which theconversation ran, and the observation that Chopin, beingdisinclined to talk, seated himself in a corner and watched thebeautiful ladies as they glided hither and thither, we will joinKarasowski again where, after the departure of the greater numberof the guests, Chopin goes to the piano and begins to improvise. 

 His auditors, whom he, absorbed in his own thoughts and looking only at the keys, had entirely forgotten, listened with breathless attention. When he had concluded his improvisation, he raised his eyes, and noticed a plainly- dressed lady who, leaning on the instrument, seemed to wish to read his soul with her dark fiery eyes. [Although a severe critic might object to the attitude of a lady leaning on a piano as socially and pictorially awkward, he must admit that from a literary point of view it is unquestionably more effective than sitting or standing by the door. ] Chopin felt he was blushing under the fascinating glances of the lady [Bravo! This is a master-touch]; she smiled [Exquisite!], and when the artist was about to withdraw from the company behind a group of camellias, he heard the peculiar rustling of a silk dress, which exhaled a fragrance of violets [Camellias, rustling silks, fragrance of violets! What a profusion of beauty and sweetness!], and the same lady who had watched him so inquiringly at the piano approached him accompanied by Liszt. Speaking to him with a deep, sweet voice, she made some remarks on his playing, and more especially on the contents of his improvisation. Frederick listened to her with pleasure and emotion, and while words full of sparkling wit and indescribable poetry flowed from the lady's eloquent lips [Quite a novel representation of her powers of conversation], he felt that he was understood as he had never been. 

All this is undoubtedly very pretty, and would be invaluable in anovel, but I am afraid we should embarrass Karasowski were we toask him to name his authorities. 

Of this meeting at the house of the Marquis de C. --i. E. , theMarquis de Custine--I was furnished with a third version by aneye-witness--namely, by Chopin's pupil Adolph Gutmann. From him Ilearned that the occasion was neither a full-dress ball nor achance gathering of a jour fixe, but a musical matinee. Gutmann, Vidal (Jean Joseph), and Franchomme opened the proceedings with atrio by Mayseder, a composer the very existence of whose oncepopular chamber-music is unknown to the present generation. Chopin played a great deal, and George Sand devoured him with hereyes. Afterwards the musician and the novelist walked together along time in the garden. Gutmann was sure that this matinee tookplace either in 1836 or in 1837, and was inclined to think thatit was in the first-mentioned year. 

Franchomme, whom I questioned about the matinee at the Marquis deCustine's, had no recollection of it. Nor did he remember thecircumstance of having on this or any other occasion played atrio of Mayseder's with Gutmann and Vidal. But this friend of thePolish pianist--composer, while confessing his ignorance as tothe place where the latter met the great novelist for the firsttime, was quite certain as to the year when he met her. Chopin, Franchomme informed me, made George Sand's acquaintance in 1837, their connection was broken in 1847, and he died, as everyoneknows, on October 17, 1849. In each of these dates appears thenumber which Chopin regarded with a superstitious dread, which heavoided whenever he could-for instance, he would not at any pricetake lodgings in a house the number of which contained a seven--and which may be thought by some to have really exercised a fatalinfluence over him. It is hardly necessary to point out that itwas this fatal number which fixed the date in Franchomme'smemory. 

But supposing Chopin and George Sand to have really met at theMarquis de Custine's, was this their first meeting?

[FOONOTE: That they were on one occasion both present at a partygiven by the Marquis de Custine may be gathered from Freiherr vonFlotow's Reminiscences of his life in Paris (published in the"Deutsche Revue" of January, 1883, p. 65); but not that this wastheir first meeting, nor the time when it took place. As to thecharacter of this dish of reminiscences, I may say that it issauced and seasoned for the consumption of the blase magazinereader, and has no nutritive substance whatever. ]

I put the question to Liszt in the course of a conversation I hadwith him some years ago in Weimar. His answer was most positive, and to the effect that the first meeting took place at Chopin'sown apartments. "I ought to know best, " he added, "seeing that Iwas instrumental in bringing the two together. " Indeed, it wouldbe difficult to find a more trustworthy witness in this matterthan Liszt, who at that time not only was one of the chiefcomrades of Chopin, but also of George Sand. According to him, then, the meeting came about in this way. George Sand, whosecuriosity had been excited both by the Polish musician'scompositions and by the accounts she had heard of him, expressedto Liszt the wish to make the acquaintance of his friend. Lisztthereupon spoke about her to Chopin, but the latter was averse tohaving any intercourse with her. He said he did not like literarywomen, and was not made for their society; it was different withhis friend, who there found himself in his element. George Sand, however, did not cease to remind Liszt of his promise tointroduce her to Chopin. One morning in the early part of 1837Liszt called on his friend and brother-artist, and found him inhigh spirits on account of some compositions he had latelyfinished. As Chopin was anxious to play them to his friends, itwas arranged to have in the evening a little party at his rooms. 

This seemed to Liszt an excellent opportunity to redeem thepromise which he had given George Sand when she asked for anintroduction; and, without telling Chopin what he was going todo, he brought her with him along with the Comtesse d'Agoult. Thesuccess of the soiree was such that it was soon followed by asecond and many more. 

In the foregoing accounts the reader will find contradictionsenough to exercise his ingenuity upon. But the involuntary tricksof memory and the voluntary ones of imagination make always suchterrible havoc of facts that truth, be it ever so much sought andcared for, appears in history and biography only in a more orless disfigured condition. George Sand's own allusion to thecommencement of the acquaintance agrees best with Liszt'saccount. After passing in the latter part of 1836 some months inSwitzerland with Liszt and the Comtesse d'Agoult, she meets themagain at Paris in the December of the same year:--

 At the Hotel de France, where Madame d'Agoult had persuaded me to take quarters near her, the conditions of existence were charming for a few days. She received many litterateurs, artists, and some clever men of fashion. It was at Madame d'Agoult's, or through her, that I made the acquaintance of Eugene Sue, Baron d'Eckstein, Chopin, Mickiewicz, Nourrit, Victor Schoelcher, &c. My friends became also hers. Through me she got acquainted with M. Lamennais, Pierre-Leroux, Henri Heine, &c. Her salon, improvised in an inn, was therefore a reunion d'elite over which she presided with exquisite grace, and where she found herself the equal of all the eminent specialists by reason of the extent of her mind and the variety of her faculties, which were at once poetic and serious. Admirable music was performed there, and in the intervals one could instruct one's self by listening to the conversation. 

To reconcile Liszt's account with George Sand's remark thatChopin was one of those whose acquaintance she made at Madamed'Agoult's or through her, we have only to remember the intimaterelation in which Liszt stood to this lady (subsequently known inliterature under the nom de plume of Daniel Stern), who had lefther husband, the Comte d'Agoult, in 1835. 

And now at last we can step again from the treacherous quicksandof reminiscences on the terra firma of documents. The followingextracts from some letters of George Sand's throw light on herrelation to Chopin in the early part of 1837:--

 Nohant, March 28, 1837. 

 [To Franz Liszt. ]. .. Come and see us as soon as possible. Love, esteem, and friendship claim you at Nohant. Love (Marie [FOOTNOTE: The Comtesse d'Agoult. ]) is some what ailing, esteem (Maurice and Pelletan [FOOTNOTE: The former, George Sand's son; the latter, Eugene Pelletan, Maurice's tutor. ]) pretty well, and friendship (myself) obese and in excellent health. 

 Marie told me that there was some hope of Chopin. Tell Chopin that I beg of him to accompany you; that Marie cannot live without him, and that I adore him. 

 I shall write to Grzymala personally in order to induce him also, if I can, to come and see us. I should like to be able to surround Marie with all her friends, in order that she also may live in the bosom of love, esteem, and friendship. 

[FOOTNOTE: Albert Grzymala, a man of note among the Polishrefugees. He was a native of Dunajowce in Podolia, had heldvarious military and other posts--those of maitre des requites, director of the Bank of Poland, attache to the staff of PrincePoniatowski, General Sebastiani, and Lefebvre, &c. --and was in1830 sent by the Polish Government on a diplomatic mission toBerlin, Paris, and London. (See L'Amanach de L'Emigrationpolonaise, published at Paris some forty years ago. ) He must notbe confounded with the publicist Francis Grzymala, who at Warsawwas considered one of the marechaux de plume, and at Paris wasconnected with the Polish publication Sybilla. With one exception(Vol. I. , p. 3), the Grzymala spoken of in these volumes isAlbert Grzymala, sometimes also called Count Grzymala. Thistitle, however, was, if I am rightly informed, only a courtesytitle. The Polish nobility as such was untitled, titles being offoreign origin and not legally recognised. But many Polishnoblemen when abroad assume the prefix de or von, or the title"Count, " in order to make known their rank. ]

 Nohant, April 5, 1837. 

 [To the Comtesse d'Agoult. ]. .. Tell Mick. .. . [FOOTNOTE: Mickiewicz, the poet. ] (non-compromising manner of writing Polish names) that my pen and my house are at his service, and are only too happy to be so; tell Grzy. . .. , [FOOTNOTE: Gryzmala] whom I adore, Chopin, whom I idolatrise, and all those whom you love that I love them, and that, brought by you, they will be welcome. Berry in a body watches for the maestro's [FOOTNOTE: Liszt's] return in order to hear him play the piano. I believe we shall be obliged to place le garde- champetre and la garde nationals of Nohant under arms in order to defend ourselves against the dilettanti berrichoni. 

 Nohant, April 10, 1837. 

 [To the Comtesse d'Agoult. ] I want the fellows, [FOOTNOTE: "Fellows" (English) was the nickname which Liszt gave to himself and his pupil Hermann Cohen. ] I want them as soon and as LONG as possible. I want them a mort. I want also Chopin and all the Mickiewiczs and Grzymalas in the world. I want even Sue if you want him. What more would I not want if that were your fancy? For instance, M. De Suzannet or Victor Schoelcher! Everything, a lover excepted. 

 Nohant, April 21, 1837. 

 [To the Comtesse d'Agoult. ] Nobody has permitted himself to breathe the air of your room since you left it. Arrangements will be made to put up all those you may bring with you. I count on the maestro, on Chopin, on the Rat, [FOOTNOTE: Liszt's pupil, Hermann Cohen. ] if he does not weary you too much, and all the others at your choice. 

Chopin's love for George Sand was not instantaneous like that ofRomeo for Juliet. Karasowski remembers having read in one ofthose letters of the composer which perished in 1863: "YesterdayI met George Sand. .. ; she made a very disagreeable impressionupon me. " Hiller in his Open Letter to Franz Liszt writes:--

 One evening you had assembled in your apartments the aristocracy of the French literary world--George Sand was of course one of the company. On the way home Chopin said to me "What a repellent [antipathische] woman the Sand is! But is she really a woman? I am inclined to doubt it. "

Liszt, in discussing this matter with me, spoke only of Chopin's"reserve" towards George Sand, but said nothing of his "aversion"to her. And according to this authority the novelist'sextraordinary mind and attractive conversation soon overcame themusician's reserve. Alfred de Musset's experience had been of asimilar nature. George Sand did not particularly please him atfirst, but a few visits which he paid her sufficed to inflame hisheart with a violent passion. The liaisons of the poet andmusician with the novelist offer other points of resemblancebesides the one just mentioned: both Musset and Chopin wereyounger than George Sand--the one six, the other five years; andboth, notwithstanding the dissimilarity of their characters, occupied the position of a weaker half. In the case of Chopin Iam reminded of a saying of Sydney Smith, who, in speaking of hisfriends the historian Grote and his wife, remarked: "I do likethem both so much, for he is so lady-like, and she is such aperfect gentleman. " Indeed, Chopin was described to me by hispupil Gutmann as feminine in looks, gestures, and taste; as toGeorge Sand, although many may be unwilling to admit her perfectgentlemanliness, no one can doubt her manliness:--

 Dark and olive-complexioned Lelia! [writes Liszt] thou hast walked in solitary places, sombre as Lara, distracted as Manfred, rebellious as Cain, but more fierce [farouche], more pitiless, more inconsolable than they, because thou hast found among the hearts of men none feminine enough to love thee as they have been loved, to pay to thy virile charms the tribute of a confiding and blind submission, of a silent and ardent devotion, to suffer his allegiance to be protected by thy Amazonian strength!

The enthusiasm with which the Poles of her acquaintance spoke oftheir countrywomen, and the amorous suavity, fulness of feeling, and spotless nobleness which she admired in the Polish composer'sinspirations, seem to have made her anticipate, even beforemeeting Chopin, that she would find in him her ideal lover, onewhose love takes the form of worship. To quote Liszt's words:"She believed that there, free from all dependence, secureagainst all inferiority, her role would rise to the fairy-likepower of some being at once the superior and the friend of man. "Were it not unreasonable to regard spontaneous utterances--expressions of passing moods and fancies, perhaps mere flights ofrhetoric--as well-considered expositions of stable principles, one might be tempted to ask: Had George Sand found in Chopin theman who was "bold or vile enough" to accept her "hard and clear"conditions? [FOOTNOTE: See extract from one of her letters in thepreceding chapter, Vol. I. , p. 334. ]

While the ordinary position of man and woman was entirelyreversed in this alliance, the qualities which characterised themcan nevertheless hardly ever have been more nearly diametricallyopposed. Chopin was weak and undecided; George Sand strong andenergetic. The former shrank from inquiry and controversy; thelatter threw herself eagerly into them. [FOOTNOTE: George Sandtalks much of the indolence of her temperament: we may admit thisfact, but must not overlook another one--namely, that she was inpossession of an immense fund of energy, and was always ready todraw upon it whenever speech or action served her purpose orfancy. ] The one was a strict observer of the laws of proprietyand an almost exclusive frequenter of fashionable society; theother, on the contrary, had an unmitigated scorn for the so-called proprieties and so-called good society. Chopin's mannersexhibited a studied refinement, and no woman could be moreparticular in the matter of dress than he was. It ischaracteristic of the man that he was so discerning a judge ofthe elegance and perfection of a female toilette as to be able totell at a glance whether a dress had been made in a first-classestablishment or in an inferior one. The great composer is saidto have had an unlimited admiration for a well-made and well-carried (bien porte) dress. Now what a totally different picturepresents itself when we turn to George Sand, who says of herself, in speaking of her girlhood, that although never boorish orimportunate, she was always brusque in her movements and naturalin her manners, and had a horror of gloves and profound bows. Herfondness for male garments is as characteristic as Chopin'sconnoisseurship of the female toilette; it did not end with herstudent life, for she donned them again in 1836 when travellingin Switzerland. 

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

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

A slim frame of middle height; fragile but wonderfully flexiblelimbs; delicately-formed hands; very small feet; an oval, softly-outlined head; a pale, transparent complexion; long silken hairof a light chestnut colour, parted on one side; tender browneyes, intelligent rather than dreamy; a finely-curved aquilinenose; a sweet subtle smile; graceful and varied gestures: suchwas the outward presence of Chopin. As to the colour of the eyesand hair, the authorities contradict each other most thoroughly. Liszt describes the eyes as blue, Karasowski as dark brown, andM. Mathias as "couleur de biere. " [FOOTNOTE: This strangeexpression we find again in Count Wodzinski's Les trois Romans deFrederic Chopin, where the author says: "His large limpid, expressive, and soft eyes had that tint which the English callauburn, which the Poles, his compatriots, describe as piwne (beercolour), and which the French would denominate brown. "] Of thehair Liszt says that it was blonde, Madame Dubois and others thatit was cendre, Miss L. Ramann that it was dark blonde, and aScotch lady that it was dark brown. [FOOTNOTE: Count Wodzinskiwrites: "It was not blonde, but of a shade similar to that of hiseyes: ash-coloured (cendre), with golden reflections in thelight. "] Happily the matter is settled for us by an authority towhich all others must yield--namely, by M. T. Kwiatkowski, thefriend and countryman of Chopin, an artist who has drawn andpainted the latter frequently. Well, the information I receivedfrom him is to the effect that Chopin had des yeux bruns tendres(eyes of a tender brown), and les cheveux blonds chatains(chestnut-blonde hair). Liszt, from whose book some of the abovedetails are derived, completes his portrayal of Chopin by somecharacteristic touches. The timbre of his voice, he says, wassubdued and often muffled; and his movements had such adistinction and his manners such an impress of good society thatone treated him unconsciously like a prince. His whole appearancemade one think of that of the convolvuli, which on incrediblyslender stems balance divinely-coloured chalices of suchvapourous tissue that the slightest touch destroys them. 

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

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

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

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

While admiring the clever drawing and the life-like appearance ofthe portrait, we must, however, not overlook the exaggerationsand inaccuracies. The reader cannot have failed to detect thelimner tripping with regard to Musset, who occupied not manyyears but less than a year the post of cavaliere servente. Butwho would expect religious adherence to fact from Heine, who atall times distinguishes himself rather by wit thanconscientiousness? What he says of George Sand's taciturnity incompany and want of wit, however, must be true; for she herselftells us of these negative qualities in the Histoire de ma Vie. 

The musical accomplishments of Chopin's beloved one have, ofcourse, a peculiar interest for us. Liszt, who knew her so well, informed me that she was not musical, but possessed taste andjudgment. By "not musical" he meant no doubt that she was not inthe habit of exhibiting her practical musical acquirements, ordid not possess these latter to any appreciable extent. Sheherself seems to me to make too much of her musical talents, studies, and knowledge. Indeed, her writings show that, whateverher talents may have been, her taste was vague and her knowledgevery limited. 

When we consider the diversity of character, it is not a matterfor wonder that Chopin was at first rather repelled thanattracted by the personality of George Sand. Nor is it, on theother hand, a matter for wonder that her beauty and power ofpleasing proved too strong for his antipathy. How great thispower of pleasing was when she wished to exercise it, the readermay judge from the incident I shall now relate. Musset's mother, having been informed of her son's projected tour to Italy, beggedhim to give it up. The poet promised to comply with her request:"If one must weep, it shall not be you, " he said. In the eveningGeorge Sand came in a carriage to the door and asked for MadameMusset; the latter came out, and after a short interview gave herconsent to her son's departure. Chopin's unsuccessful wooing ofMiss Wodzinska and her marriage with Count Skarbek in this year(1837) may not have been without effect on the composer. Hisheart being left bruised and empty was as it were sensitised (ifI may use this photographic term) for the reception of a newimpression by the action of love. In short, the intimacy betweenChopin and George Sand grew steadily and continued to grow tillit reached its climax in the autumn of 1838, when they wenttogether to Majorca. Other matters, however, have to be advertedto before we come to this passage of Chopin's life. First I shallhave to say a few words about his artistic activity during theyears 1837 and 1838. 

Among the works composed by Chopin in 1837 was one of theVariations on the March from I Puritani, which were publishedunder the title Hexameron: Morceau de Concert. Grandes variationsde bravoure sur la marche des Puritains de Bellini, composeespour le concert de Madame la Princesse Belgiojoso au benefice despauvres, par M. M. Liszt, Thalberg, Pixis, H. Herz, Czerny, etChopin. This co-operative undertaking was set on foot by thePrincess, and was one of her many schemes to procure money forher poor exiled countrymen. Liszt played these Variations oftenat his concerts, and even wrote orchestral accompaniments tothem, which, however, were never published. 

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

There are also to be recorded some public and semi-publicappearances of Chopin as a virtuoso. On February 25, 1838, theGazette musicale informs its readers that Chopin, "that equallyextraordinary and modest pianist, " had lately been summoned toCourt to be heard there en cercle intime. His inexhaustibleimprovisations, which almost made up the whole of the evening'sentertainment, were particularly admired by the audience, whichknew as well as a gathering of artists how to appreciate thecomposer's merits. At a concert given by Valentin Alkan on March3, 1838, Chopin performed with Zimmermann, Gutmann, and theconcert-giver, the latter's arrangement of Beethoven's A majorSymphony (or rather some movements from it) for two pianos andeight hands. And in the Gazette musicale of March 25, 1838, thereis a report by M. Legouve of Chopin's appearance at a concertgiven by his countryman Orlowski at Rouen, where the latter hadsettled after some years stay in Paris. From a writer in theJournal de Rouen (December 1, 1849) we learn that ever since thisconcert, which was held in the town-hall, and at which thecomposer played his E minor Concerto with incomparableperfection, the name of Chopin had in the musical world of Rouena popularity which secured to his memory an honourable andcordial sympathy. But here is what Legouve says about thisconcert. I transcribe the notice in full, because it shows usboth how completely Chopin had retired from the noise and strifeof publicity, and how high he stood in the estimation of hiscontemporaries. 

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

Chopin's artistic achievements, however, were not unanimouslyreceived with such enthusiastic approval. A writer in the lessfriendly La France musicale goes even so far as to stultifyhimself by ridiculing, a propos of the A flat Impromptu, thecomposer's style. This jackanapes--who belongs to that numerousclass of critics whose smartness of verbiage combined withobtuseness of judgment is so well-known to the serious musicalreader and so thoroughly despised by him--ignores the spiritualcontents of the work under discussion altogether, and condemnswithout hesitation every means of expression which in theslightest degree deviates from the time-honoured standards. Weare told that Chopin's mode of procedure in composing is this. Hegoes in quest of an idea, writes, writes, modulates through allthe twenty-four keys, and, if the idea fails to come, doeswithout it and concludes the little piece very nicely (tres-bien). And now, gentle reader, ponder on this momentous andimmeasurably sad fact: of such a nature was, is, and ever will bethe great mass of criticism. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

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

In a letter written in 1837, and quoted on p. 313 of Vol. I. , Chopin said: "I may perhaps go for a few days to George Sand's. "How heartily she invited him through their common friends Lisztand the Comtesse d'Agoult, we saw in the preceding chapter. Wemay safely assume, I think, that Chopin went to Nohant in thesummer of 1837, and may be sure that he did so in the summer of1838, although with regard to neither visit reliable informationof any kind is discoverable. Karasowski, it is true, quotes fourletters of Chopin to Fontana as written from Nohant in 1838, butinternal evidence shows that they must have been written threeyears later. 

We know from Mendelssohn's and Moscheles' allusions to Chopin'svisit to London that he was at that time ailing. He himself wrotein the same year (1837) to Anthony Wodzinski that during thewinter he had been again ill with influenza, and that the doctorshad wanted to send him to Ems. As time went on the state of hishealth seems to have got worse, and this led to his going toMajorca in the winter of 1838-1839. The circumstance that he hadthe company of Madame Sand on this occasion has given rise tomuch discussion. According to Liszt, Chopin was forced by thealarming state of his health to go to the south in order to avoidthe severities of the Paris winter; and Madame Sand, who alwayswatched sympathetically over her friends, would not let himdepart alone, but resolved to accompany him. Karasowski, on theother hand, maintains that it was not Madame Sand who was inducedto accompany Chopin, but that Madame Sand induced Chopin toaccompany her. Neither of these statements tallies with MadameSand's own account. She tells us that when in 1838 her sonMaurice, who had been in the custody of his father, wasdefinitively entrusted to her care, she resolved to take him to amilder climate, hoping thus to prevent a return of the rheumatismfrom which he had suffered so much in the preceding year. Besides, she wished to live for some time in a quiet place whereshe could make her children work, and could work herself, undisturbed by the claims of society. 

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

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

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

Seeing that Liszt--who was at the time in Italy--and Karasowskispeak only from hearsay, we cannot do better than accept GeorgeSand's account, which contains nothing improbable. In connectionwith this migration to the south, I must, however, not omit tomention certain statements of Adolph Gutmann, one of Chopin'spupils. Here is the substance of what Gutmann told me. Chopin wasanxious to go to Majorca, but for some time was kept in suspenseby the scantiness of his funds. This threatening obstacle, however, disappeared when his friend the pianoforte-maker andpublisher, Camille Pleyel, paid him 2, 000 francs for thecopyright of the Preludes, Op. 28. Chopin remarked of thistransaction to Gutmann, or in his hearing: "I sold the Preludesto Pleyel because he liked them [parcequ'il les. Aimait]. " AndPleyel exclaimed on one occasion: "These are my Preludes [Ce sontmes Preludes]. " Gutmann thought that Pleyel, who was indebted toChopin for playing on his instruments and recommending them, wished to assist his friend in a delicate way with some money, and therefore pretended to be greatly taken with thesecompositions and bent upon possessing them. This, however, cannotbe quite correct; for from Chopin's letters, which I shall quoteI presently, it appears that he had indeed promised Pleyel thePreludes, but before his departure received from him only 500francs, the remaining 1, 500 being paid months afterwards, on thedelivery of the manuscript. These letters show, on the otherhand, that when Chopin was in Majorca he owed to Leo 1, 000francs, which very likely he borrowed from him to defray part ofthe expenses of his sojourn in the south. 

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

Chopin kept his intention of going with Madame Sand to Majorcasecret from all but a privileged few. According to Franchomme, hedid not speak of it even to his friends. There seem to have beenonly three exceptions--Fontana, Matuszynski, and Grzymala, and inhis letters to the first he repeatedly entreats his friend not totalk about him. Nor does he seem to have been much morecommunicative after his return, for none of Chopin'sacquaintances whom I questioned was able to tell me whether thecomposer looked back on this migration with satisfaction or withregret; still less did they remember any remark made by him thatwould throw a more searching light on this period of his life. 

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

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

 Chopin arrived at Perpignan last night, fresh as a rose, and rosy as a turnip; moreover, in good health, having stood his four nights of the mail-coach heroically. As to ourselves, we travelled slowly, quietly, and surrounded at all stations by our friends, who overwhelmed us with kindness. 

As the weather was fine and the sea calm Chopin did not suffermuch on the passage from Port-Vendres to Barcelona. At the lattertown the party halted for a while-spending some busy days withinits walls, and making an excursion into the country-and then tookship for Palma, the capital of Majorca and the Balearic Islesgenerally. Again the voyagers were favoured by the elements. 

 The night was warm and dark, illumined only by an extraordinary phosphorescence in the wake of the ship; everybody was asleep on board except the steersman, who, in order to keep himself awake, sang all night, but in a voice so soft and so subdued that one might have thought that he feared to awake the men of the watch, or that he himself was half asleep. We did not weary of listening to him, for his singing was of the strangest kind. He observed a rhythm and modulations totally different from those we are accustomed to, and seemed to allow his voice to go at random, like the smoke of the vessel carried away and swayed by the breeze. It was a reverie rather than a song, a kind of careless divagation of the voice, with which the mind had little to do, but which kept time with the swaying of the ship, the faint sound of the dead water, and resembled a vague improvisation, restrained, nevertheless, by sweet and monotonous forms. 

When night had passed into day, the steep coasts of Majorca, dentelees au soleil du matin par les aloes et les palmiers, camein sight, and soon after El Mallorquin landed its passengers atPalma. Madame Sand had left Paris a fortnight before in extremelycold weather, and here she found in the first half of Novembersummer heat. The newcomers derived much pleasure from theirrambles through the town, which has a strongly-pronouncedcharacter of its own and is rich in fine and interestingbuildings, among which are most prominent the magnificentCathedral, the elegant Exchange (la lonja), the stately Town-Hall, and the picturesque Royal Palace (palacio real). Indeed, inMajorca everything is picturesque, from the hut of the peasant, who in his most insignificant buildings has preserved the tradition of the Arabic style, to the infant clothed in rags and triumphant in his "malproprete grandiose, " as Heine said a propos of the market-women of Verona. The character of the landscape, whose vegetation is richer than that of Africa is in general, has quite as much breadth, calm, and simplicity. It is green Switzerland under the sky of Calabria, with the solemnity and silence of the East. 

But picturesqueness alone does not make man's happiness, andPalma seems to have afforded little else. If we may believeMadame Sand, there was not a single hotel in the town, and theonly accommodation her party could get consisted of two smallrooms, unfurnished rather than furnished, in some wretched placewhere travellers are happy to find "a folding-bed, a straw-bottomed chair, and, as regards food, pepper and garlic adiscretion. " Still, however great their discomfort and disgustmight be, they had to do their utmost to hide their feelings;for, if they had made faces on discovering vermin in their bedsand scorpions in their soup, they would certainly have hurt thesusceptibilities of the natives, and would probably have exposedthemselves to unpleasant consequences. No inhabitable apartmentswere to be had in the town itself, but in its neighbourhood avilla chanced to be vacant, and this our party rented at once. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Palma, November 14, 1838:--

 I am leaving the town, and shall establish myself in the country: I have a pretty furnished house, with a garden and a magnificent view, for fifty francs per month. Besides, two leagues from there I have a cell, that is to say, three rooms and a garden full of oranges and lemons, for thirty-five francs PER YEAR, in the large monastery of Valdemosa. 

The furniture of the villa was indeed of the most primitive kind, and the walls were only whitewashed, but the house was otherwiseconvenient, well ventilated--in fact, too well ventilated--andabove all beautifully situated at the foot of rounded, fertilemountains, in the bosom of a rich valley which was terminated bythe yellow walls of Palma, the mass of the cathedral, and thesparkling sea on the horizon. 

Chopin to Fontana; Palma, November 15, 1838:--

[FOOTNOTE: Julius Fontana, born at Warsaw in 1810, studied music(at the Warsaw Conservatoire under Elsner) as an amateur and lawfor his profession; joined in 1830 the Polish insurrectionaryarmy; left his country after the failure of the insurrection;taught the piano in London; played in 1835 several times withsuccess in Paris; resided there for some years; went in 1841 toHavannah; on account of the climate, removed to New York; gavethere concerts with Sivori; and returned to Paris in 1850. Thisat least is the account we get of him in Sowinski's "LesMusiciens polonais et slaves. " Mr. A. J. Hipkins, who becameacquainted with Fontana during a stay which the latter made inLondon in 1856 (May and early part of June), described him to meas "an honourable and gentlemanly man. " From the same informant Ilearned that Fontana married a lady who had an income for life, and that by this marriage he was enabled to retire from theactive exercise of his profession. Later on he became very deaf, and this great trouble was followed by a still greater one, thedeath of his wife. Thus left deaf and poor, he despaired, and, putting a pistol to one of his ears, blew out his brains. According to Karasowski he died at Paris in 1870. Thecompositions he published (dances, fantasias, studies, &c. ) areof no importance. He is said to have published also two books, one on Polish orthography in 1866 and one on popular astronomy in1869. The above and all the following letters of Chopin toFontana are in the possession of Madame Johanna Lilpop, ofWarsaw, and are here translated from Karasowski's Polish editionof his biography of Chopin. Many of the letters are undated, andthe dates suggested by Karasowski generally wrong. There are, moreover, two letters which are given as if dated by Chopin; butas the contents point to Nohant and 1841 rather than to Majorcaand 1838 and 1839, I shall place them in Chapter XXIV. , wherealso my reasons for doing so will be more particularly stated. Athird letter, supposed by Karasowski to be written at Valdemosain February, I hold to be written at Marseilles in April. It willbe found in the next chapter. ]

 My dear friend, --I am at Palma, among palms, cedars, cactuses, aloes, and olive, orange, lemon, fig, and pomegranate trees, &c. , which the Jardin des Plantes possesses only thanks to its stoves. The sky is like a turquoise, the sea is like lazuli, and the mountains are like emeralds. The air? The air is just as in heaven. During the day there is sunshine, and consequently it is warm--everybody wears summer clothes. During the night guitars and songs are heard everywhere and at all hours. Enormous balconies with vines overhead, Moorish walls. .. The town, like everything here, looks towards Africa. .. In one word, a charming life"!

 Dear Julius, go to Pleyel--the piano has not yet arrived--and ask him by what route they have sent it. 

 The Preludes you shall have soon. 

 I shall probably take up my quarters in a delightful monastery in one of the most beautiful sites in the world: sea, mountains, palm trees, cemetery, church of the Knights of the Cross, ruins of mosques, thousand-year-old olive trees!. .. Ah, my dear friend, I am now enjoying life a little more; I am near what is most beautiful--I am a better man. 

 Letters from my parents and whatever you have to send me give to Grzymala; he knows the safest address. 

 Embrace Johnnie. [FOOTNOTE: The Johnnie so frequently mentioned in the letters to Fontana is John Matuszynski. ] How soon he would recover here!

 Tell Schlesinger that before long he will receive MS. To acquaintances speak little of me. Should anybody ask, say that I shall be back in spring. The mail goes once a week; I write through the French Consulate here. 

 Send the enclosed letter as it is to my parents; leave it at the postoffice yourself. 

 Yours, CHOPIN. 

George Sand relates in "Un Hiver a Majorque" that the first dayswhich her party passed at the Son-Vent (House of the Wind)--thiswas the name of the villa they had rented--were pretty well takenup with promenading and pleasant lounging, to which the deliciousclimate and novel scenery invited. But this paradisaic conditionwas suddenly changed as if by magic when at the end of two orthree weeks the wet season began and the Son-Vent becameuninhabitable. 

 The walls of it were so thin that the lime with which our rooms were plastered swelled like a sponge. For my part I never suffered so much from cold, although it was in reality not very cold; but for us, who are accustomed to warm ourselves in winter, this house without a chimney was like a mantle of ice on our shoulders, and I felt paralysed. Chopin, delicate as he was and subject to violent irritation of the larynx, soon felt the effects of the damp. 

 We could not accustom ourselves to the stifling odour of the brasiers, and our invalid began to ail and to cough. 

 From this moment we became an object of dread and horror to the population. We were accused and convicted of pulmonary phthisis, which is equivalent to the plague in the prejudices regarding contagion entertained by Spanish physicians. A rich doctor, who for the moderate remuneration of forty-five francs deigned to come and pay us a visit, declared, nevertheless, that there was nothing the matter, and prescribed nothing. 

 Another physician came obligingly to our assistance; but the pharmacy at Palma was in such a miserable state that we could only procure detestable drugs. Moreover, the illness was to be aggravated by causes which no science and no devotion could efficiently battle against. 

 One morning, when we were given up to serious fears on account of the duration of these rains and these sufferings which were bound up together, we received a letter from the fierce Gomez [the landlord], who declared, in the Spanish style, that we held a person who held a disease which carried contagion into his house, and threatened prematurely the life of his family; in consequence of which he requested us to leave his palace with the shortest delay possible. 

 This did not cause us much regret, for we could no longer stay there without fear of being drowned in our rooms; but our invalid was not in a condition to be moved without danger, especially by such means of transport as are available in Majorca, and in the weather then obtaining. And then the difficulty was to know where to go, for the rumour of our phthisis had spread instantaneously, and we could no longer hope to find a shelter anywhere, not even at a very high price for a night. We knew that the obliging persons who offeredto take us in were themselves not free from prejudices, and that, moreover, we should draw upon them, in going near them, the reprobation which weighed upon us. Without the hospitality of the French consul, who did wonders in order to gather us all under his roof, we were threatened with the prospect of camping in some cavern like veritable Bohemians. 

 Another miracle came to pass, and we found an asylum for the winter. At the Carthusian monastery of Valdemosa there was a Spanish refugee, who had hidden himself there for I don't know what political reason. Visiting the monastery, we were struck with the gentility of his manners, the melancholy beauty of his wife, and the rustic and yet comfortable furniture of their cell. The poesy of this monastery had turned my head. It happened that the mysterious couple wished to leave the country precipitately, and--that they were as delighted to dispose to us of their furniture and cell as we were to acquire them. For the moderate sum of a thousand francs we had then a complete establishment, but such a one as we could have procured in France for 300 francs, so rare, costly, and difficult to get are the most necessary things in Majorca. 

The outcasts decamped speedily from the Son-Vent. But beforeSenor Gomez had done with his tenants, he made them pay for thewhitewashing and the replastering of the whole house, which heheld to have been infected by Chopin. 

And now let us turn once more from George Sand's poeticalinventions, distortions, and exaggerations, to the comparativesobriety and trustworthiness of letters. 

Chopin to Fontana; Palma, December 3, 1838:--

 I cannot send you the MSS. As they are not yet finished. During the last two weeks I have been as ill as a dog, in spite of eighteen degrees of heat, [FOOTNOTE: That is, eighteen degrees Centigrade, which are equal to about sixty- four degrees Fahrenheit. ] and of roses, and orange, palm, and fig trees in blossom. I caught a severe cold. Three doctors, the most renowned in the island, were called in for consultation. One smelt what I spat, the second knocked whence I spat, the third sounded and listened when I spat. The first said that I would die, the second that I was dying, the third that I had died already; and in the meantime I live as I was living. I cannot forgive Johnnie that in the case of bronchite aigue, which he could always notice in me, he gave me no advice. I had a narrow escape from their bleedings, cataplasms, and such like operations. Thanks to Providence, I am now myself again. My illness has nevertheless a pernicious effect on the Preludes, which you will receive God knows when. 

 In a few days I shall live in the most beautiful part of the world. Sea, mountains. .. Whatever you wish. We are to have our quarters in an old, vast, abandoned and ruined monastery of Carthusians whom Mend [FOOTNOTE: Mendizabal] drove away as it were for me. Near Palma--nothing more wonderful: cloisters, most poetic cemeteries. In short, I feel that there it will be well with me. Only the piano has not yet come! I wrote to Pleyel. Ask there and tell him that on the day after my arrival here I was taken very ill, and that I am well again. On the whole, speak little about me and my manuscripts. Write to me. As yet I have not received a letter from you. 

 Tell Leo that I have not as yet sent the Preludes to the Albrechts, but that I still love them sincerely, and shall write to them shortly. 

 Post the enclosed letter to my parents yourself, and write as soon as possible. 

 My love to Johnnie. Do not tell anyone that I was ill, they would only gossip about it. 

[FOOTNOTE: to Madame Dubois I owe the information that Albrecht, an attache to the Saxon legation (a post which gave him a goodstanding in society) and at the same time a wine-merchant (withoffices in the Place Vendome--his specialty being "vins deBordeaux"), was one of Chopin's "fanatic friends. " In the lettersthere are allusions to two Albrechts, father and son; theforegoing information refers to the son, who, I think, is the T. Albrecht to whom the Premier Scherzo, Chopin's Op. 20, isdedicated. ]

Chopin to Fontana; Palma, December 14, 1838:--

 As yet not a word from you, and this is my third or fourth letter. Did you prepay? Perhaps my parents did not write. Maybe some misfortune has befallen them. Or are you so lazy? But no, you are not lazy, you are so obliging. No doubt you sent my two letters to my people (both from Palma). And you must have written to me, only the post of this place, which is the most irregular in the world, has not yet delivered your letters. 

 Only to-day I was informed that on the ist of December my piano was embarked at Marseilles on a merchant vessel. The letter took fourteen days to come from that town. Thus there is some hope that the piano may pass the winter in the port, as here nobody stirs when it rains. The idea of my getting it just at my departure pleases me, for in addition to the 500 francs for freight and duty which I must pay, I shall have the pleasure of packing it and sending it back. Meanwhile my manuscripts are sleeping, whereas I cannot sleep, but cough, and am covered with plasters, waiting anxiously for spring or something else. 

 To-morrow I start for this delightful monastery of Valdemosa. I shall live, muse, and write in the cell of some old monk who may have had more fire in his heart than I, and was obliged to hide and smother it, not being able to make use of it. 

 I think that shortly I shall be able to send you my Preludes and my Ballade. Go and see Leo; do not mention that I am ill, he would fear for his 1, 000 francs. 

 Give my kind remembrances to Johnnie and Pleyel. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Palma, December 14, 1838:--

 . .. What is really beautiful here is the country, the sky, the mountains, the good health of Maurice, and the radoucissement of Solange. The good Chopin is not in equally brilliant health. He misses his piano very much. We received news of it to-day. It has left Marseilles, and we shall perhaps have it in a fortnight. Mon Dieu, how hard, difficult, and miserable the physical life is here! It is beyond what one can imagine. 

 By a stroke of fortune I have found for sale a clean suite of furniture, charming for this country, but which a French peasant would not have. Unheard-of trouble was required to get a stove, wood, linen, and who knows what else. Though for a month I have believed myself established, I am always on the eve of being so. Here a cart takes five hours to go three leagues; judge of the rest. They require two months to manufacture a pair of tongs. There is no exaggeration in what I say. Guess about this country all I do not tell you. For my part I do not mind it, but I have suffered a little from it in the fear of seeing my children suffer much from it. 

 Happily, my ambulance is doing well. To-morrow we depart for the Carthusian monastery of Valdemosa, the most poetic residence on earth. We shall pass there the winter, which has hardly begun and will soon end. This is the sole happiness of this country. I have never in my life met with a nature so delicious as that of Majorca. 

 . .. The people of this country are generally very gracious, very obliging; but all this in words. .. 

 I shall write to Leroux from the monastery at leisure. If you knew what I have to do! I have almost to cook. Here, another amenity, one cannot get served. The domestic is a brute: bigoted, lazy, and gluttonous; a veritable son of a monk (I think that all are that). It requires ten to do the work which your brave Mary does. Happily, the maid whom I have brought with me from Paris is very devoted, and resigns herself to do heavy work; but she is not strong, and I must help her. Besides, everything is dear, and proper nourishment is difficult to get when the stomach cannot stand either rancid oil or pig's grease. I begin to get accustomed to it; but Chopin is ill every time that we do not prepare his food ourselves. In short, our expedition here is, in many respects, a frightful fiasco. 

On December 15, 1838, then, the Sand party took possession oftheir quarters in the monastery of Valdemosa, and thence the nextletters are dated. 

Chopin to Fontana; "Palma, December 28, 1838, or ratherValdemosa, a few miles distant from Palma":--

 Between rocks and the sea, in a great abandoned Carthusian monastery, in one of the cells with doors bigger than the gates in Paris, you may imagine me with my hair uncurled, without white gloves, pale as usual. The cell is in the shape of a coffin, high, and full of dust on the vault. The window small, before the window orange, palm, and cypress trees. Opposite the window, under a Moorish filigree rosette, stands my bed. By its side an old square thing like a table for writing, scarcely serviceable; on it a leaden candlestick (a great luxury) with a little tallow-candle, Works of Bach, my jottings, and old scrawls that are not mine, this is all I possess. Quietness. .. One may shout and nobody will hear. .. In short, I am writing to you from a strange place. 

 Your letter of the 9th of December I received the day before yesterday; as on account of the holidays the express mail does not leave till next week, I write to you in no great hurry. It will be a Russian month before you get the bill of exchange which I send you. 

 Sublime nature is a fine thing, but one should have nothing to do with men--nor with roads and posts. Many a time I came here from Palma, always with the same driver and always by another road. Streams of water make roads, violent rains destroy them; to-day it is impossible to pass, for what was a road is ploughed; next day only mules can pass where you were driving yesterday. And what carriages here! That is the reason, Julius, why you do not see a single Englishman, not even an English consul. 

 Leo is a Jew, a rogue! I was at his house the day before my departure, and I told him not to send me anything here. I cannot send you the Preludes, they are not yet finished. At present I am better and shall push on the work. I shall write and thank him in a way that will make him wince. 

 But Schlesinger is a still worse dog to put my Waltzes [FOOTNOTE: "Trois Valses brillantes, " Op. 34. ] in the Album, and to sell them to Probst [FOOTNOTE: Heinrich Albert Probst founded in 1823 a music-shop and publishing-house at Leipzig. In 1831 Fr. Kistner entered the business (Probst-Kistner), which under his name has existed from 1836 down to this day. In the Chopin letters we meet Probst in the character of Breitkopf and Hartel's agent. ] when I gave him them because he begged them for his father in Berlin. [FOOTNOTE: Adolf Martin Schlesinger, a music-publisher like his son Maurice Adolph of Paris, so frequently mentioned in these letters. ] All this irritates me. I am only sorry for you; but in one month at the latest you will be clear of Leo and my landlord. With the money which you receive on the bill of exchange, do what is necessary. And my servant, what is he doing? Give the portier twenty francs as a New Year's present. 

 I do not remember whether I left any debts of importance. At all events, as I promised you, we shall be clear in a month at the latest. 

 To-day the moon is wonderful, I never saw it more beautiful. 

 By the way, you write that you sent me a letter from my people. I neither saw nor heard of one, and I am longing so much for one! Did you prepay when you sent them the letter?

 Your letter, the only one I have hitherto received, was very badly addressed. Here nature is benevolent, but the people are thievish. They never see any strangers, and therefore do not know what to ask of them. For instance, an orange they will give you for nothing, but ask a fabulous sum for a coat- button. 

 Under this sky you are penetrated with a kind of poetical feeling which everything seems to exhale. Eagles alarmed by no one soar every day majestically over our heads. 

 For God's sake write, always prepay, and to Palma add always Valdemosa. 

 I love Johnnie, and I think it is a pity that he did not altogether qualify himself as director of the children of some benevolent institution in some Nuremberg or Bamberg. Get him to write to me, were it only a few words. 

 I enclose you a letter to my people. .. I think it is already the third or fourth that I send you for my parents. 

 My love to Albrecht, but speak very little about me. 

Chopin to Fontana; Valdemosa, January 12, 1839:--

 I send you the Preludes, make a copy of them, you and Wolf; [FOOTNOTE: Edouard Wolff] I think there are no mistakes. You will give the transcript to Probst, but my manuscript to Pleyel. When you get the money from Probst, for whom I enclose a receipt, you will take it at once to Leo. I do not write and thank him just now, for I have no time. Out of the money which Pleyel will give you, that is 1, 500 francs, you will pay the rent of my rooms till the New Year, 450 francs and you will give notice of my giving them up if you have a chance to get others from April. If not it will be necessary to keep them for a quarter longer. The rest of the amount, or 1, 000 francs, you will return from me to Nougi. Where he lives you will learn from Johnnie, but don't tell the latter of the money, for he might attack Nougi, and I do not wish that anyone but you and I should know of it. Should you succeed in finding rooms, you could send one part of the furniture to Johnnie and another to Grzymala. You will tell Pleyel to send letters through you. 

 I sent you before the New Year a bill of exchange for Wessel; tell Pleyel that I have settled with Wessel. 

 [FOOTNOTE: The music-publisher Christian Rudolph Wessel, of Bremen, who came to London in 1825. Up to 1838 he had Stodart, and from 1839 to 1845 Stapleton, as partner. He retired in 1860, Messrs. Edwin Ashdown and Henry Parry being his successors. Since the retirement of Mr. Parry, in 1882, Mr. Ashdown is the sole proprietor. Mr. Ashdown, whom I have to thank for the latter part of this note, informs me that Wessel died in 1885. ]

 In a few weeks you will receive a Ballade, a Polonaise, and a Scherzo. 

 Until now I have not yet received any letters from my parents. 

 I embrace you. 

 Sometimes I have Arabian balls, African sun, and always before my eyes the Mediterranean Sea. 

 I do not know when I shall be back, perhaps as late as May, perhaps even later. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Valdemosa, January 15, 1839:--

 . .. We inhabit the Carthusian monastery of Valdemosa, a really sublime place, which I have hardly the time to admire, so many occupations have I with my children, their lessons, and my work. 

 There are rains here of which one has elsewhere no idea: it is a frightful deluge! The air is on account of it so relaxing, so soft, that one cannot drag one's self along; one is really ill. Happily, Maurice is in admirable health; his constitution is only afraid of frost, a thing unknown here. But the little Chopin [FOOTNOTE: Madame Marliani seems to have been in the habit of calling Chopin "le petit. " In another letter to her (April 28, 1839) George Sand writes of Chopin as votre petit. This reminds one of Mendelssohn's Chopinetto. ] is very depressed and always coughs much. For his sake I await with impatience the return of fine weather, which will not be long in coming. His piano has at last arrived at Palma; but it is in the clutches of the custom-house officers, who demand from five to six hundred francs duty, and show themselves intractable. 

 . .. I am plunged with Maurice in Thucydides and company; with Solange in the indirect object and the agreement of the participle. Chopin plays on a poor Majorcan piano which reminds me of that of Bouffe in "Pauvre Jacques. " I pass my nights generally in scrawling. When I raise my nose, it is to see through the sky-light of my cell the moon which shines in the midst of the rain on the orange trees, and I think no more of it than she. 

Madame Sand to M. A. M. Duteil; Valdemosa, January 20, 1839:--

 . .. This [the slowness and irregularity of the post] is not the only inconvenience of the country. There are innumerable ones, and yet this is the most beautiful country. The climate is delicious. At the time I am writing, Maurice is gardening in his shirt-sleeves, and Solange, seated under an orange tree loaded with fruit, studies her lesson with a grave air. We have bushes covered with roses, and spring is coming in. Our winter lasted six weeks, not cold, but rainy to a degree to frighten us. It is a deluge! The rain uproots the mountains; all the waters of the mountain rush into the plain; the roads become torrents. We found ourselves caught in them, Maurice and I. We had been at Palma in superb weather. When we returned in the evening, there were no fields, no roads, but only trees to indicate approximately the way which we had to go. I was really very. Frightened, especially as the horse refused to proceed, and we were obliged to traverse the mountain on foot in the night, with torrents across our legs. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Valdemosa, February 22, 1839:--

 . .. You see me at my Carthusian monastery, still sedentary, and occupied during the day with my children, at night with my work. In the midst of all this, the warbling of Chopin, who goes his usual pretty way, and whom the walls of the cell are much astonished to hear. 

 The only remarkable event since my last letter is the arrival of the so much-expected piano. After a fortnight of applications and waiting we have been able to get it out of the custom-house by paying three hundred francs of duty. Pretty country this! After all, it has been disembarked without accident, and the vaults of the monastery are delighted with it. And all this is not profaned by the admiration of fools-we do not see a cat. 

 Our retreat in the mountains, three leagues from the town, has freed us from the politeness of idlers. 

 Nevertheless, we have had one visitor, and a visitor from Paris!--namely, M. Dembowski, an Italian Pole whom Chopin knew, and who calls himself a cousin of Marliani--I don't know in what degree. 

 . .. The fact is, that we are very much pleased with the freedom which this gives us, because we have work to do; but we understand very well that these poetic intervals which one introduces into one's life are only times of transition and rest allowed to the mind before it resumes the exercise of the emotions. I mean this in the purely intellectual sense; for, as regards the life of the heart, it cannot cease for a moment. .. 

This brings us to the end of the known letters written by Chopinand Madame Sand from Majorca. And now let us see what we can findin George Sand's books to complete the picture of the life of herand her party at Valdemosa, of which the letters give only moreor less disconnected indications. I shall use the materials at mydisposal freely and cautiously, quoting some passages in full, regrouping and summing-up others, and keeping always in mind--which the reader should likewise do--the authoress's tendency toemphasise, colour, and embellish, for the sake of literary andmoral effect. 

Not to extend this chapter too much, I refer the curious toGeorge Sand's "Un Hiver a Majorque" for a description of the"admirable, grandiose, and wild nature" in the midst of which the"poetic abode" of her and her party was situated--of the grandlyand beautifully-varied surface of the earth, the luxuriantsouthern vegetation, and the marvellous phenomena of light andair; of the sea stretching out on two sides and meeting thehorizon; of the surrounding formidable peaks, and the moredistant round-swelling hills; of the eagles descending in thepursuit of their prey down to the orange trees of the monasterygardens; of the avenue of cypresses serpentining from the top ofthe mountain to the bottom of the gorge; of the torrents coveredwith myrtles; in short, of the immense ensemble, the infinitedetails, which overwhelm the imagination and outvie the poet'sand painter's dreams. Here it will be advisable to confineourselves to the investigation of a more limited sphere, toinspect rather narrow interiors than vast landscapes. 

As the reader has gathered from the preceding letters, there wasno longer a monastic community at Valdemosa. The monks had beendispersed some time before, and the monastery had become theproperty of the state. During the hot summer months it was ingreat part occupied by small burghers from Palma who came inquest of fresh air. The only permanent inhabitants of themonastery, and the only fellow-tenants of George Sand's party, were two men and one woman, called by the novelist respectivelythe Apothecary, the Sacristan, and Maria Antonia. The first, aremnant of the dispersed community, sold mallows and couch-grass, the only specifics he had; the second was the person in whosekeeping were the keys of the monastery; and the third was a kindof housekeeper who, for the love of God and out of neighbourlyfriendship, offered her help to new-comers, and, if it wasaccepted, did not fail to levy heavy contributions. 

The monastery was a complex of strongly-constructed, buildingswithout any architectural beauty, and such was, its circumferenceand mass of stones that it would have been easy to house an armycorps. Besides the dwelling of the superior, the cells of the lay-brothers, the lodgings for visitors, the stables, and otherstructures, there were three cloisters, each consisting of twelvecells and twelve chapels. The most ancient of these cloisters, which is also the smallest, dates from the 15th century. 

 It presents a charming coup d'oeil. The court which it encloses with its broken-down walls is the ancient cemetery of the monks. No inscription distinguishes these tombs. .. The graves are scarcely indicated by the swellings of the turf. 

In the cells were stored up the remains of all sorts of fine oldfurniture and sculpture, but these could only be seen through thechinks, for the cells were carefully locked, and the sacristanwould not open them to anyone. The second cloister, although ofmore recent date, was likewise in a dilapidated state, which, however, gave it character. In stormy weather it was not at allsafe to pass through it on account of the falling fragments ofwalls and vaults. 

 I never heard the wind sound so like mournful voices and utter such despairing howls as in these empty and sonorous galleries. The noise of the torrents, the swift motion of the clouds, the grand, monotonous sound of the sea, interrupted by the whistling of the storm and the plaintive cries of sea- birds which passed, quite terrified and bewildered, in the squalls; then thick fogs which fell suddenly like a shroud and which, penetrating into the cloisters through the broken arcades, rendered us invisible, and made the little lamp we carried to guide us appear like a will-o'-the-wisp wandering under the galleries; and a thousand other details of this monastic life which crowd all at once into my memory: all combined made indeed this monastery the most romantic abode in the world. 

 I was not sorry to see for once fully and in reality what I had seen only in a dream, or in the fashionable ballads, and in the nuns' scene in Robert le Diable at the Opera. Even fantastic apparitions were not wanting to us. [FOOTNOTE: "Un Hiver a Majorque, " pp. 116 and 117. ]

In the same book from which the above passage is extracted wefind also a minute description of the new cloister; the chapels, variously ornamented, covered with gilding, decorated with rudepaintings and horrible statues of saints in coloured wood, pavedin the Arabic style with enamelled faience laid out in variousmosaic designs, and provided with a fountain or marble conch; thepretty church, unfortunately without an organ, but with wainscot, confessionals, and doors of most excellent workmanship, a floorof finely-painted faience, and a remarkable statue in paintedwood of St. Bruno; the little meadow in the centre of thecloister, symmetrically planted with box-trees, &c. , &c. 

George Sand's party occupied one of the spacious, well-ventilated, and well-lighted cells in this part of the monastery. I shall let her describe it herself. 

 The three rooms of which it was composed were spacious, elegantly vaulted, and ventilated at the back by open rosettes, all different and very prettily designed. These three rooms were separated from the cloister by a dark passage at the end of which was a strong door of oak. The wall was three feet thick. The middle room was destined for reading, prayer, and meditation; all its furniture consisted of a large chair with a praying-desk and a back, from six to eight feet high, let into and fixed in the wall. The room to the right of this was the friar's bed-room; at the farther end of it was situated the alcove, very low, and paved above with flags like a tomb. The room to the left was the workshop, the refectory, the store-room of the recluse. A press at the far end of the room had a wooden compartment with a window opening on the cloister, through which his provisions were passed in. His kitchen consisted of two little stoves placed outside, but not, as was the strict rule, in the open air; a vault, opening on the garden, protected the culinary labours of the monk from the rain, and allowed him to give himself up to this occupation a little more than the founder would have wished. Moreover, a fire-place introduced into this third room indicated many other relaxations, although the science of the architect had not gone so far as to make this fire-place serviceable. 

 Running along the back of the rooms, on a level with the rosettes, was a long channel, narrow and dark, intended for the ventilation of the cell, and above was a loft in which the maize, onions, beans, and other simple winter provisions were kept. On the south the three rooms opened on a flower garden, exactly the size of the cell itself, which was separated from the neighbouring gardens by walls ten feet high, and was supported by a strongly-built terrace above a little orange grove which occupied this ledge of the mountain. The lower ledge was covered with a beautiful arbour of vines, the third with almond and palm trees, and so on to the bottom of the little valley, which, as I have said, was an immense garden. 

 The flower garden of each cell had all along its right side a reservoir, made of freestone, from three to four feet in width and the same in depth, receiving through conduits placed in the balustrade of the terrace the waters of the mountain, and distributing them in the flower garden by means of a stone cross, which divided it into four equal squares. 

 As to this flower garden, planted with pomegranate, lemon, and orange trees, surrounded by raised walks made of bricks which, like the reservoir, were shaded by perfumed arbours, it was like a pretty salon of flowers and verdure, where the monk could walk dry-footed on wet days. 

Even without being told, we should have known that the artistswho had now become inmates of the monastery were charmed withtheir surroundings. Moreover, George Sand did her utmost to makelife within doors comfortable. When the furniture bought from theSpanish refugee had been supplemented by further purchases, theywere, considering the circumstances, not at all badly off in thisrespect. The tables and straw-bottomed chairs were indeed nobetter than those one finds in the cottages of peasants; the sofaof white wood with cushions of mattress cloth stuffed with woolcould only ironically be called "voluptuous"; and the largeyellow leather trunks, whatever their ornamental properties mightbe, must have made but poor substitutes for wardrobes. Thefolding-beds, on the other hand, proved irreproachable; themattresses, though not very soft, were new and clean, and thepadded and quilted chintz coverlets left nothing to be desired. Nor does this enumeration exhaust the comforts and adornments ofwhich the establishment could boast. Feathers, a rare article inMajorca, had been got from a French lady to make pillows forChopin; Valenciennes matting and long-fleeced sheep skins coveredthe dusty floor; a large tartan shawl did duty as an alcovecurtain; a stove of somewhat eccentric habits, and consistingsimply of an iron cylinder with a pipe that passed through thewindow, had been manufactured for them at Palma; a charming clayvase surrounded with a garland of ivy displayed its beauty on thetop of the stove; a beautiful large Gothic carved oak chair witha small chest convenient as a book-case had, with the consent ofthe sacristan, been brought from the monks' chapel; and last, butnot least, there was, as we have already read in the letters, apiano, in the first weeks only a miserable Majorcan instrument, which, however, in the second half of January, after muchwaiting, was replaced by one of Pleyel's excellent cottagepianos. 

[FOOTNOTE: By the way, among the many important and unimportantdoubtful points which Chopin's and George Sand's letters settle, is also that of the amount of duty paid for the piano. The sumoriginally asked by the Palma custom-house officers seems to havebeen from 500 to 600 francs, and this demand was after afortnight's negotiations reduced to 300 francs. That theimaginative novelist did not long remember the exact particularsof this transaction need not surprise us. In Un Hiver a Majorqueshe states tha the original demand was 700 francs, and the sumultimately paid about 400 francs. ]

These various items collectively and in conjunction with therooms in which they were gathered together form a tout-ensemblepicturesque and homely withal. As regards the supply ofprovisions, the situation of our Carthusians was decidedly lessbrilliant. Indeed, the water and the juicy raisins, Malagapotatoes, fried Valencia pumpkins, &c. , which they had fordessert, were the only things that gave them unmixedsatisfaction. With anything but pleasure they made the discoverythat the chief ingredient of Majorcan cookery, an ingredientappearing in all imaginable and unimaginable guises anddisguises, was pork. Fowl was all skin and bones, fish dry andtasteless, sugar of so bad a quality that it made them sick, andbutter could not be procured at all. Indeed, they found itdifficult to get anything of any kind. On account of their non-attendance at church they were disliked by the villagers ofValdemosa, who sold their produce to such heretics only at twiceor thrice the usual price. Still, thanks to the good offices ofthe French consul's cook, they might have done fairly well hadnot wet weather been against them. But, alas, their eagerly-awaited provisions often arrived spoiled with rain, oftener stillthey did not arrive at all. Many a time they had to eat bread ashard as ship-biscuits, and content themselves with realCarthusian dinners. The wine was good and cheap, but, unfortunately, it had the objectionable quality of being heady. 

These discomforts and wants were not painfully felt by GeorgeSand and her children, nay, they gave, for a time at least, a newzest to life. It was otherwise with Chopin. "With his feeling fordetails and the wants of a refined well-being, he naturally tookan intense dislike to Majorca after a few days of illness. " Wehave already seen what a bad effect the wet weather and the dampof Son-Vent had on Chopin's health. But, according to GeorgeSand, [FOOTNOTE: "Un Hiver a Marjorque, " pp. 161-168. I suspectthat she mixes up matters in a very unhistorical manner; I have, however, no means of checking her statements, her and hercompanion's letters being insufficient for the purpose. Chopincertainly was not likely to tell his friend the worst about hishealth. ] it was not till later, although still in the early daysof their sojourn in Majorca, that his disease declared itself ina really alarming manner. The cause of this change for the worsewas over-fatigue incurred on an excursion which he made with hisfriends to a hermitage three miles [FOOTNOTE: George Sand doesnot say what kind of miles] distant from Valdemosa; the lengthand badness of the road alone would have been more than enough toexhaust his fund of strength, but in addition to these hardshipsthey had, on returning, to encounter a violent wind which threwthem down repeatedly. Bronchitis, from which he had previouslysuffered, was now followed by a nervous excitement that producedseveral symptoms of laryngeal phthisis. [FOOTNOTE: In theHistoire de ma Vie George Sand Bays: "From the beginning ofwinter, which set in all at once with a diluvian rain, Chopinshowed, suddenly also, all the symptoms of pulmonary affection. "]The physician, judging of the disease by the symptoms thatpresented themselves at the time of his visits, mistook its realnature, and prescribed bleeding, milk diet, &c. Chopin feltinstinctively that all this would be injurious to him, thatbleeding would even be fatal. George Sand, who was an experiencednurse, and whose opportunities for observing were less limitedthan those of the physician, had the same presentiment. After along and anxious struggle she decided to disregard the strongly-urged advice of the physician and to obey the voice that said toher, even in her sleep: "Bleeding will kill him; but if you savehim from it, he will not die, " She was persuaded that this voicewas the voice of Providence, and that by obeying it she saved herfriend's life. What Chopin stood most in need of in his weaknessand languor was a strengthening diet, and that, unfortunately, was impossible to procure:--

 What would I not have given to have had some beef-tea and a glass of Bordeaux wine to offer to our invalid every day! The Majorcan food, and especially the manner in which it was prepared when we were not there with eye and hand, caused him an invincible disgust. Shall I tell you how well founded this disgust was? One day when a lean chicken was put on the table we saw jumping on its steaming back enormous Mattres Floh, [FOOTNOTE: Anglice "fleas. "] of which Hoffmann would have made as many evil spirits, but which he certainly would not have eaten in gravy. My children laughed so heartily that they nearly fell under the table. 

Chopin's most ardent wish was to get away from Majorca and backto France. But for some time he was too weak to travel, and whenhe had got a little stronger, contrary winds prevented thesteamer from leaving the port. The following words of George Sanddepict vividly our poor Carthusian friends' situation in all itsgloom:--

 As the winter advanced, sadness more and more paralysed my efforts at gaiety and cheerfulness. The state of our invalid grew always worse; the wind wailed in the ravines, the rain beat against our windows, the voice of the thunder penetrated through our thick walls and mingled its mournful sounds with the laughter and sports of the children. The eagles and vultures, emboldened by the fog, came to devour our poor sparrows, even on the pomegranate tree which shaded my window. The raging sea kept the ships in the harbours; we felt ourselves prisoners, far from all enlightened help and from all efficacious sympathy. Death seemed to hover over our heads to seize one of us, and we were alone in contending with him for his prey. 

If George Sand's serenity and gaiety succumbed to theseinfluences, we may easily imagine how much more they oppressedChopin, of whom she tells us that--

 the mournful cry of the famished eagle and the gloomy desolation of the yew trees covered with snow saddened him much longer and more keenly than the perfume of the orange trees, the gracefulness of the vines, and the Moorish song of the labourers gladdened him. 

The above-quoted letters have already given us some hints of howthe prisoners of Valdemosa passed their time. In the morningthere were first the day's provisions to be procured and therooms to be tidied--which latter business could not be entrustedto Maria Antonia without the sacrifice of their night's rest. [FOOTNOTE: George Sand's share of the household work was not sogreat as she wished to make the readers of Un Hiver a Majorquebelieve, for it consisted, as we gather from her letters, only ingiving a helping hand to her maid, who had undertaken to cook andclean up, but found that her strength fell short of therequirements. ] Then George Sand would teach her children for somehours. These lessons over, the young ones ran about and amusedthemselves for the rest of the day, while their mother sat downto her literary studies and labours. In the evening they eitherstrolled together through the moonlit cloisters or read in theircell, half of the night being generally devoted by the novelistto writing. George Sand says in the "Histoire de ma Vie" that shewrote a good deal and read beautiful philosophical and historicalworks when she was not nursing her friend. The latter, however, took up much of her time, and prevented her from getting outmuch, for he did not like to be left alone, nor, indeed, could hesafely be left long alone. Sometimes she and her children wouldset out on an expedition of discovery, and satisfy theircuriosity and pleasantly while away an hour or two in examiningthe various parts of the vast aggregation of buildings; or thewhole party would sit round the stove and laugh over therehearsal of the morning's transactions with the villagers. Oncethey witnessed even a ball in this sanctuary. It was on Shrove-Tuesday, after dark, that their attention was roused by astrange, crackling noise. On going to the door of their cell theycould see nothing, but they heard the noise approaching. After alittle there appeared at the opposite end of the cloister a faintglimmer of white light, then the red glare of torches, and atlast a crew the sight of which made their flesh creep and theirhair stand on end--he-devils with birds' heads, horses' tails, and tinsel of all colours; she-devils or abducted shepherdessesin white and pink dresses; and at the head of them Luciferhimself, horned and, except the blood-red face, all black. Thestrange noise, however, turned out to be the rattling ofcastanets, and the terrible-looking figures a merry company ofrich farmers and well-to-do villagers who were going to have adance in Maria Antonia's cell. The orchestra, which consisted ofa large and a small guitar, a kind of high-pitched violin, andfrom three to four pairs of castanets, began to play indigenousjotas and fandangos which, George Sand tells us, resemble thoseof Spain, but have an even bolder form and more original rhythm. The critical spectators thought that the dancing of the Majorcanswas not any gayer than their singing, which was not gay at all, and that their boleros had "la gravite des ancetres, et point deces graces profanes qu'on admire en Andalousie. " Much of themusic of these islanders was rather interesting than pleasing totheir visitors. The clicking of the castanets with which theyaccompany their festal processions, and which, unlike the brokenand measured rhythm of the Spaniards, consists of a continuousroll like that of a drum "battant aux champs, " is from time totime suddenly interrupted in order to sing in unison a coplita ona phrase which always recommences but never finishes. George Sandshares the opinion of M. Tastu that the principal Majorcanrhythms and favourite fioriture are Arabic in type and origin. 

Of quite another nature was the music that might be heard inthose winter months in one of the cells of the monastery ofValdemosa. "With what poesy did his music fill this sanctuary, even in the midst of his most grievous troubles!" exclaims GeorgeSand. I like to picture to myself the vaulted cell, in whichPleyel's piano sounded so magnificently, illumined by a lamp, therich traceries of the Gothic chair shadowed on the wall, GeorgeSand absorbed in her studies, her children at play, and Chopinpouring out his soul in music. 

It would be a mistake to think that those months which thefriends spent in Majorca were for them a time of unintermittentor even largely-predominating wretchedness. Indeed, George Sandherself admits that, in spite of the wildness of the country andthe pilfering habits of the people, their existence might havebeen an agreeable one in this romantic solitude had it not beenfor the sad spectacle of her companion's sufferings and certaindays of serious anxiety about his life. And now I must quote a. Long but very important passage from the "Histoire de ma Vie":--

 The poor great artist was a detestable patient. What I had feared, but unfortunately not enough, happened. He became completely demoralised. Bearing pain courageously enough, he could not overcome the disquietude of his imagination. The monastery was for him full of terrors and phantoms, even when he was well. He did not say so, and I had to guess it. On returning from my nocturnal explorations in the ruins with my children, I found him at ten o'clock at night before his piano, his face pale, his eyes wild, and his hair almost standing on end. It was some moments before he could recognise us. 

 He then made an attempt to laugh, and played to us sublime things he had just composed, or rather, to be more accurate, terrible or heartrending ideas which had taken possession of him, as it were without his knowledge, in that hour of solitude, sadness, and terror. 

 It was there that he composed the most beautiful of those short pages he modestly entitled "Preludes. " They are masterpieces. Several present to the mind visions of deceased monks and the sounds of the funeral chants which beset his imagination; others are melancholy and sweet--they occurred to him in the hours of sunshine and of health, with the noise of the children's laughter under the window, the distant sound of guitars, the warbling of the birds among the humid foliage, and the sight of the pale little full-blown roses on the snow. 

 Others again are of a mournful sadness, and, while charming the ear, rend the heart. There is one of them which occurred to him on a dismal rainy evening which produces a terrible mental depression. We had left him well that day, Maurice and I, and had gone to Palma to buy things we required for our encampment. The rain had come on, the torrents had overflowed, we had travelled three leagues in six hours to return in the midst of the inundation, and we arrived in the dead of night, without boots, abandoned by our driver, having passed through unheard-of dangers. We made haste, anticipating the anxiety of our invalid. It had been indeed great, but it had become as it were congealed into a kind of calm despair, and he played his wonderful prelude weeping. On seeing us enter he rose, uttering a great cry, then he said to us, with a wild look and in a strange tone: "Ah! I knew well that you were dead!"

 When he had come to himself again, and saw the state in which we were, he was ill at the retrospective spectacle of our dangers; but he confessed to me afterwards that while waiting for our return he had seen all this in a dream and that, no longer distinguishing this dream from reality, he had grown calm and been almost lulled to sleep while playing the piano, believing that he was dead himself. He saw himself drowned in a lake; heavy and ice-cold drops of water fell at regular intervals upon his breast, and when I drew his attention to those drops of water which were actually falling at regular intervals upon the roof, he denied having heard them. He was even vexed at what I translated by the term imitative harmony. He protested with all his might, and he was right, against the puerility of these imitations for the ear. His genius was full of mysterious harmonies of nature, translated by sublime equivalents into his musical thought, and not by a servile repetition of external sounds. His composition of this evening was indeed full of the drops of rain which resounded on the sonorous tiles of the monastery, but they were transformed in his imagination and his music into tears falling from heaven on his heart. 

Although George Sand cannot be acquitted of the charge ofexaggerating the weak points in her lover's character, what shesays about his being a detestable patient seems to have a goodfoundation in fact. Gutmann, who nursed him often, told me thathis master was very irritable and difficult to manage insickness. On the other hand, Gutmann contradicted George Sand'sremarks about the Preludes, saying that Chopin composed thembefore starting on his journey. When I mentioned to him thatFontana had made a statement irreconcilable with his, andsuggested that Chopin might have composed some of the Preludes inMajorca, Gutmann maintained firmly that every one of them wascomposed previously, and that he himself had copied them. Nowwith Chopin's letters to Fontana before us we must come to theconclusion that Gutmann was either under a false impression orconfirmed a rash statement by a bold assertion, unless we preferto assume that Chopin's labours on the Preludes in Majorca wereconfined to selecting, [FOOTNOTE: Internal evidence suggests thatthe Preludes consist (to a great extent at least) of pickingsfrom the composer's portfolios, of pieces, sketches, andmemoranda written at various times and kept to be utilised whenoccasion might offer. ] filing, and polishing. My opinion--whichnot only has probability but also the low opus number (28) andthe letters in its favour--is that most of the Preludes, if notall, were finished or sketched before Chopin went to the south, and that a few, if any, were composed and the whole revised atPalma and Valdemosa. Chopin cannot have composed many in Majorca, because a few days after his arrival there he wrote: from Palma(Nov. 15, 1838) to Fontana that he would send the Preludes soon;and it was only his illness that prevented him from doing so. There is one statement in George Sand's above-quoted narrativewhich it is difficult to reconcile with other statements in "UnHiver a Majorque" and in her and Chopin's letters. In the just-mentioned book (p. 177) she says that the journey in question wasmade for the purpose of rescuing the piano from the hands of thecustom-house officers; and in a letter of January 15, 1839, toher friend Madame Marliani (quoted on p. 31), which does notcontain a word about adventures on a stormy night, [They arefirst mentioned in the letter of January 20, 1839, quoted on p. 32. ] she writes that the piano is still in the clutches of thecustom-house officers. From this, I think, we may conclude thatit must have taken place after January 15. But, then, how couldChopin have composed on that occasion a Prelude included in awork the manuscript of which he sent away on the lath? Still, this does not quite settle the question. Is it not possible thatChopin may have afterwards substituted the new Prelude for one ofthose already forwarded to France? To this our answer must bethat it is possible, but that the letters do not give any supportto such an assumption. Another and stronger objection would bethe uncertainty as to the correctness of the date of the letter. Seeing that so many of Chopin's letters have been published withwrong dates, why not also that of January 12? Unfortunately, wecannot in this case prove or disprove the point by internalevidence. There is, however, one factor we must be especiallycareful not to forget in our calculations--namely, George Sand'shabitual unconscientious inaccuracy; but the nature of hernarrative will indeed be a sufficient warning to the reader, fornobody can read it without at once perceiving that it is not aplain, unvarnished recital of facts. 

It would be interesting to know which were the compositions thatChopin produced at Valdemosa. As to the Prelude particularlyreferred to by George Sand, it is generally and reasonablybelieved to be No. 6 (in B minor). [FOOTNOTE: Liszt, who tellsthe story differently, brings in the F sharp minor Prelude. (SeeLiszt's Chopin, new edition, pp. 273 and 274. )] The onlycompositions besides the Preludes which Chopin mentions in hisletters from Majorca are the Ballade, Op, 38, the Scherzo, Op. 39, and the two Polonaises, Op. 40. The peevish, fretful, andfiercely-scornful Scherzo and the despairingly-melancholy secondPolonaise (in C minor) are quite in keeping with the moods oneimagines the composer to have been in at the time. Nor is thereanything discrepant in the Ballade. But if the sadly-ailingcomposer really created, and not merely elaborated and finished, in Majorca the superlatively-healthy, vigorously-martial, brilliantly-chivalrous Polonaise in A major, we have here aremarkable instance of the mind's ascendency over the body, ofits independence of it. This piece, however, may have beenconceived under happier circumstances, just as the gloomy Sonata, Op. 35 (the one in B flat minor, with the funeral march), and thetwo Nocturnes, Op. 37--the one (in G minor) plaintive, longing, and prayerful; the other (in G major) sunny and perfume-laden--may have had their origin in the days of Chopin's sojourn in theBalearic island. A letter of Chopin's, written from Nohant in thesummer of 1839, leaves, as regards the Nocturnes, scarcely roomfor such a conjecture. On the other hand, we learn from the sameletter that he composed at Palma the sad, yearning Mazurka in Eminor (No. 2 of Op. 41). 

As soon as fair weather set in and the steamer resumed its. Weekly courses to Barcelona, George Sand and her party hastenedto leave the island. The delightful prospects of spring could notdetain them. 

 Our invalid (she says) did not seem to be in a state to stand the passage, but he seemed equally incapable of enduring another week in Majorca. The situation was frightful; there were days when I lost hope and courage. To console us, Maria Antonia and her village gossips repeated to us in chorus the most edifying discourses on the future life. "This consumptive person, " they said, "is going to hell, first because he is consumptive, secondly, because he does not confess. If he is in this condition when he dies, we shall not bury him in consecrated ground, and as nobody will be willing to give him a grave, his friends will have to manage matters as well as they can. It remains to be seen how they will get out of the difficulty; as for me, I will have Inothing to do with it, -- Nor I--Nor I: and Amen!"

In fact, Valdemosa, which at first was enchanting to them, lostafterwards much of its poesy in their eyes. George Sand, as wehave seen, said that their sojourn was I in many respects afrightful fiasco; it was so certainly as far as Chopin wasconcerned, for he arrived with a cough and left the placespitting blood. 

The passage from Palma to Barcelona was not so pleasant as thatfrom Barcelona to Palma had been. Chopin suffered much fromsleeplessness, which was caused by the noise and bad smell of themost favoured class of passengers on board the Mallorquin--i. E. , pigs. "The captain showed us no other attention than that ofbegging us not to let the invalid lie down on the best bed of thecabin, because according to Spanish prejudice every illness iscontagious; and as our man thought already of burning the couchon which the invalid reposed, he wished it should be the worst. "[FOOTNOTE: "Un Hiver a Majorque, " pp. 24--25. ]

On arriving at Barcelona George Sand wrote from the Mallorquinand sent by boat a note to M. Belves, the officer in command atthe station, who at once came in his cutter to take her and herparty to the Meleagre, where they were well received by theofficers, doctor, and all the crew. It seemed to them as if theyhad left the Polynesian savages and were once more in civilisedsociety. When they shook hands with the French consul they couldcontain themselves no longer, but jumped for joy and cried "ViveLa France!"

A fortnight after their leaving Palma the Phenicien landed themat Marseilles. The treatment Chopin received from the Frenchcaptain of this steamer differed widely from that he had met withat the hands of the captain of the Mallorquin; for fearing thatthe invalid was not quite comfortable in a common berth, he gavehim his own bed. [FOOTNOTE: "Un Hiver a Majorque, " p. 183. ]

An extract from a letter written by George Sand from Marseilleson March 8, 1839, to her friend Francois Rollinat, which containsinteresting details concerning Chopin in the last scenes of theMajorca intermezzo, may fitly conclude this chapter. 

 Chopin got worse and worse, and in spite of all offers of service which were made to us in the Spanish manner, we should not have found a hospitable house in all the island. At last we resolved to depart at any price, although Chopin had not the strength to drag himself along. We asked only one--a first and a last service--a carriage to convey him to Palma, where we wished to embark. This service was refused to us, although our FRIENDS had all equipages and fortunes to correspond. We were obliged to travel three leagues on the worst roads in a birlocho [FOOTNOTE: A cabriolet. In a Spainish Dictionary I find a birlocho defined as a vehicle open in front, with two seats, and two or four wheels. A more detailed description is to be found on p. 101 of George Sand's "Un Hiver a Marjorque. "] that is to say, a brouette. 

 On arriving at Palma, Chopin had a frightful spitting of blood; we embarked the following day on the only steamboat of the island, which serves to transport pigs to Barcelona. There is no other way of leaving this cursed country. We were in company of 100 pigs, whose continual cries and foul odour left our patient no rest and no respirable air. He arrived at Barcelona still spitting basins full of blood, and crawling along like a ghost. There, happily, our misfortunes were mitigated! The French consul and the commandant of the French maritime station received us with a hospitality and grace which one does not know in Spain. We were brought on board a fine brig of war, the doctor of which, an honest and worthy man, came at once to the assistance of the invalid, and stopped the hemorrhage of the lung within twenty-four hours. 

 From that moment he got better and better. The consul had us driven in his carriage to an hotel. Chopin rested there a week, at the end of which the same vessel which had conveyed us to Spain brought us back to France. When we left the hotel at Barcelona the landlord wished to make us pay for the bed in which Chopin had slept, under the pretext that it had been infected, and that the police regulations obliged him to burn it. 

Chapter XXII. 

STAY AT MARSEILLES (FROM MARCH TO MAY, 1839) AS DESCRIBED INCHOPIN'S AND MADAME SAND'S LETTERS. --HIS STATE OF HEALTH. --COMPOSITIONS AND THEIR PUBLICATION. --PLAYING THE ORGAN AT AFUNERAL SERVICE FOR NOURRIT. --AN EXCURSION TO GENOA. --DEPARTUREFOR NOHANT. 

As George Sand and her party were obliged to stop at Marseilles, she had Chopin examined by Dr. Cauviere. This celebratedphysician thought him in great danger, but, on seeing him recoverrapidly, augured that with proper care his patient mightnevertheless live a long time. Their stay at Marseilles was moreprotracted than they intended and desired; in fact, they did notstart for Nohant till the 22nd of May. Dr. Cauviere would notpermit Chopin to leave Marseilles before summer; but whether thiswas the only cause of the long sojourn of the Sand party in thegreat commercial city, or whether there were others, I have notbeen able to discover. Happily, we have first-hand information--namely, letters of Chopin and George Sand--to throw a littlelight on these months of the pianist-composer's life. As to hisletters, their main contents consist of business matters--wranglings about terms, abuse of publishers, &c. Here and there, however, we find also a few words about his health, characteristic remarks about friends and acquaintances, interesting hints about domestic arrangements and the like--theallusion (in the letter of March 2, 1839) to a will made by himsome time before, and which he wishes to be burned, will be readwith some curiosity. 

An extract or two from the letter which George Sand wrote onMarch 8, 1839, to Francois Rollinat, launches us at once inmedias res. 

 At last we are in Marseilles. Chopin has stood the passage very well. He is very weak here, but is doing infinitely better in all respects, and is in the hands of Dr. Cauviere, an excellent man and excellent physician, who takes a paternal care of him, and who answers for his recovery. We breathe at last, but after how many troubles and anxieties!. .. Write to me here to the address of Dr. Cauviere, Rue de Rome, 71. 

 Chopin charges me to shake you heartily by the hand for him. Maurice and Solange embrace you. They are wonderfully well. Maurice has completely recovered. 

Chopin to Fontana; Marseilles, March 2, 1839:--

 You no doubt learned from Grzymala of the state of my health and my manuscripts. Two months ago I sent you from Palma my Preludes. After making a copy of them for Probst and getting the money from him, you were to give to Leo 1, 000 francs; and out of the 1, 500 francs which Pleyel was to give you for the Preludes I wrote you to pay Nougi and one term to the landlord. In the same letter, if I am not mistaken, I asked you to give notice of my leaving the apartments; for were this not done before April, I should be obliged to retain them for the next quarter, till July. 

 The second batch of manuscripts may have now reached you; for it must have remained a long time at the custom-house, on the sea, and again at the custom-house. 

 I also wrote to Pleyel with the Preludes that I give him the Ballade (which I sold to Probst for Germany) for 1, 000 francs. For the two Polonaises I asked 1, 500 francs for France, England, and Germany (the right of Probst is confined to the Ballade). It seems to me that this is not too dear. 

 In this way you ought to get, on receiving the second batch of manuscripts, from Pleyel 2, 500 francs, and from Probst, for the Ballade, 500 or 600 francs, I do not quite remember, which makes altogether 3, 000 francs. 

 I asked Grzymala if he could send me immediately at least 500 francs, which need not prevent him from sending me soon the rest. Thus much for business. 

 Now if, which I doubt, you succeed in getting apartments from next month, divide my furniture amongst you three: Grzymala, Johnnie, and you. Johnnie has the most room, although not the most sense, judging from the childish letter he wrote to me. For his telling me that I should become a Camaldolite, let him take all the shabby things. Do not overload Grzymala too much, and take to your house what you judge necessary and serviceable to you, as I do not know whether I shall return to Paris in summer (keep this to yourself). At all events, we will always write one another, and if, as I expect, it be necessary to keep my apartments till July, I beg of you to look after them and pay the quarterly rent. 

 For your sincere and truly affectionate letter you have an answer in the second Polonaise. [FOOTNOTE: See next foot- note. ] It is not my fault that I am like a mushroom that poisons when you unearth and taste it. I know I have never in anything been of service to anyone, but also not of much to myself. 

 I told you that in the first drawer of my writing-desk near the door there was a paper which you or Grzymala or Johnnie might unseal on a certain occasion. Now I beg of you to take it out and, WITHOUT READING IT, BURN IT. Do this, I entreat you, for friendship's sake. This paper is now of no use. 

 If Anthony leaves without sending you the money, it is very much in the Polish style; nota bene, do not say to him a word about it. Try to see Pleyel; tell him I have received no word from him, and that his pianino is entrusted to safe hands. Does he agree to the transaction I proposed to him?

 The letters from home reached me all three together, with yours, before going on board the vessel. I again send you one. 

 I thank you for the friendly help you give me, who am not strong. My love to Johnnie, tell him that I did not allow them, or rather that they were not permitted, to bleed me; that I wear vesicatories, that I am coughing a very little in the morning, and that I am not yet at all looked upon as a consumptive person. I drink neither coffee nor wine, but milk. Lastly, I keep myself warm, and look like a girl. 

Chopin to Fontana; Marseilles, March 6, 1839:--

 My health is still improving; I begin to play, eat, walk, and speak, like other men; and when you receive these few words from me you will see that I again write with ease. But once more of business. I would like very much that my Preludes should be dedicated to Pleyel (surely there is still time, for they are not yet printed) and the Ballade to Robert Schumann. The Polonaises, as they are, to you and to Kessler. If Pleyel does not like to give up the dedication of the Ballade, you will dedicate the Preludes to Schumann. 

 [FOOTNOTE: The final arrangement was that Op. 38, the "Deuxieme Ballade, " was dedicated to Robert Schumann; Op. 40, the "Deux Polonaises, " to Julius Fontana; the French and the English edition of Op. 28, "Vingt-quatre Preludes, " to Camille Pleyel, and the German editon to J. C. Kessler. ]

 Garczynski called upon me yesterday on his way back from Aix; he is the only person that I have received, for I keep the door well shut to all amateurs of music and literature. 

 Of the change of dedication you will inform Probst as soon as you have arranged with Pleyel. 

 From the money obtained you will give Grzymala 500 francs, the rest, 2, 500 francs, you will send me as soon as possible. 

 Love me and write. 

 Pardon me if I overwhelm you too much with commissions, but do not be afraid, these are not the last. I think you do willingly what I ask you. 

 My love to Johnnie. 

Chopin to Fontana; Marseilles, March 10, 1839:--

 Thanks for your trouble. I did not expect Jewish tricks from Pleyel; but if it is so, I beg of you to give him the enclosed letter, unless he makes no difficulties about the Ballade and the Polonaises. On the other hand, on receiving for the Ballade 500 francs from Probst, you will take it to Schlesinger. If one has to deal with Jews, let it at least be with orthodox ones. Probst may cheat me still worse; he is a bird you will not catch. Schlesinger used to cheat me, he gained enough by me, and he will not reject new profit, only be polite to him. Though a Jew, he nevertheless wishes to pass for something better. 

 Thus, should Pleyel make the least difficulties, you will go to Schlesinger, and tell him that I give him the Ballade for France and England for 800 francs, and the Polonaises for Germany, England, and France for 1, 500 francs (should he not be inclined to give so much, give them for 1, 400, 1, 300, and even for 1, 200 francs). If he mentions the Preludes, you may say that it is a thing long ago promised to Pleyel--he wished to be the publisher of them; that he asked them from me as a favour before my departure from Paris--as was really the case. You see, my very dear friend, for Pleyel I could break with Schlesinger, but for Probst I cannot. What is it to me if Schlesinger makes Probst pay dearer for my manuscripts? If Probst pays dear for them to Schlesinger, it shows that the latter cheats me, paying me too little. After all, Probst has no establishment in Paris. For all my printed things Schlesinger paid me at once, and Probst very often made me wait for money. If he will not have them all, give him the Ballade separately, and the Polonaises separately, but at the latest within two weeks. If he does not accept the offer, then apply to Probst. Being such an admirer of mine, he must not pay less than Pleyel. You will deliver my letter to Pleyel only if he makes any difficulties. 

 Dear me! this Pleyel who is such an adorer of mine! He thinks, perhaps, that I shall never return to Paris alive. I shall come back, and shall pay him a visit, and thank him as well as Leo. 

 I enclose a note to Schlesinger, in which I give you full authority to act in this matter. 

 I feel better every day; nevertheless, you will pay the portier these fifty francs, to which I completely agree, for my doctor does not permit me to move from here before summer. 

 Mickiewicz's "Dziady" I received yesterday. What shall you do with my papers?

 The letters you will leave in the writing-desk, and send the music to Johnnie, or take it to your own house. In the little table that stands in the anteroom there are also letters; you must lock it well. 

 My love to Johnnie, I am glad he is better. 

Chopin to Fontana; March 17, 1839:--

 I thank you for all your efforts. Pleyel is a scoundrel, Probst a scape-grace. He never gave me 1, 000 francs for three manuscripts. Very likely you have received my long letter about Schlesinger, therefore I wish you and beg of you to give that letter of mine to Pleyel, who thinks my manuscripts too dear. If I have to sell them cheap, I would rather do so to Schlesinger than look for new and improbable connections. For Schlesinger can always count upon England, and as I am square with Wessel, he may sell them to whomsoever he likes. The same with the Polonaises in Germany, for Probst is a bird whom I have known a long time. As regards the money, you must make an unequivocal agreement, and do not give the manuscripts except for cash. I send you a reconnaissance for Pleyel, it astonishes me that he absolutely wants it, as if he could not trust me and you. 

 Dear me, this Pleyel who said that Schlesinger paid me badly! 500 francs for a manuscript for all the countries seems to him too dear! I assure you I prefer to deal with a real Jew. And Probst, that good-for-nothing fellow, who pays me 300 francs for my mazurkas! You see, the last mazurkas brought me with ease 800 francs--namely, Probst 300 francs, Schlesinger 400, and Wessel 100. I prefer giving my manuscripts as formerly at a very low price to stooping before these. .. I prefer being submissive to one Jew to being so to three. Therefore go to Schlesinger, but perhaps you settled with Pleyel. 

 Oh, men, men! But this Mrs. Migneron, she too is a good one! However, Fortune turns round, I may yet live and hear that this lady will come and ask you for some leather; if, as you say, you are aiming at being a shoemaker. I beg of you to make shoes neither for Pleyel nor for Probst. 

 Do not yet speak to anyone of the Scherzo [Op. 39]. I do not know when I shall finish it, for I am still weak and cannot write. 

 As yet I have no idea when I shall see you. My love to Grzymala; and give him such furniture as he will like, and let Johnnie take the rest from the apartments. I do not write to him, but I love him always. Tell him this, and give him my love. 

 Wodzinski still astonishes me. 

 When you receive the money from Pleyel, pay first the landlord's rent, and send me immediately 500 francs. I left on the receipt for Pleyel the Op. Blank, for I do not remember the following number. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Marseilles, April 22, 1839:--

 . .. I was also occupied with the removal from one hotel to another. Notwithstanding all his efforts and inquiries, the good doctor was not able to find me a corner in the country where to pass the month of April. 

 I am pretty tired of this town of merchants and shopkeepers, where the intellectual life is wholly unknown; but here I am still shut up for the month of April. 

Further on in the letter, after inviting Madame Marliani and herhusband to come to Nohant in May, she proceeds thus:--

 He [M. Marliani] loves the country, and I shall be a match for him as regards rural pleasures, while you [Madame Marliani] will philosophise at the piano with Chopin. It can hardly be said that he enjoys himself in Marseilles; but he resigns himself to recover patiently. 

The following letter of Chopin to Fontana, which Karasowskithinks was written at Valdemosa in the middle of February, oughtto be dated Marseilles, April, 1839:--

 As they are such Jews, keep everything till my return. The Preludes I have sold to Pleyel (I received from him 500 francs). He is entitled to do with them what he likes. But as to the Ballades and Polonaises, sell them neither to Schlesinger nor to Probst. But whatever may happen, with no Schonenberger [FOOTNOTE: A Paris music-publisher] will I have anything to do. Therefore, if you gave the Ballade to Probst, take it back, even though he offered a thousand. You may tell him that I have asked you to keep it till my return, that when I am back we shall see. 

 Enough of these. .. Enough for me and for you. 

 My very life, I beg of you to forgive me all the trouble; you have really been busying yourself like a friend, and now you will have still on your shoulders my removal. I beg Grzymala to pay the cost of the removal. As to the portier, he very likely tells lies, but who will prove it? You must give, in order to stop his barking. 

 My love to Johnnie, I will write to him when I am in better spirits. My health is improved, but I am in a rage. Tell Johnnie that from Anthony as well as from me he will have neither word nor money. 

 Yesterday I received your letter, together with letters from Pleyel and Johnnie. 

 If Clara Wieck pleased you, that is good, for nobody can play better than she does. When you see her give her my compliments, and also to her father. 

 Did I happen to lend you Witwicki's songs? I cannot find them. I only ask for them in case you should chance to have them. 

Chopin to Fontana; Marseilles, March 25 [should no doubt be April25], 1839:--

 I received your letter, in which you let me know the particulars of the removal. I have no words to thank you for your true, friendly help. The particulars were very interesting to me. But I am sorry that you complain, and that Johnnie is spitting blood. Yesterday I played for Nourrit on the organ, you see by this that I am better. Sometimes I play to myself at home, but as yet I can neither sing nor dance. 

 Although the news of my mother is welcome, its having been originated by Plat. .. Is enough to make one consider it a falsehood. 

 The warm weather has set in here, and I shall certainly not leave Marseilles before May, and then go somewhere else in the south of France. 

 It is not likely that we shall soon have news from Anthony. Why should he write? Perhaps to pay his debts? But this is not customary in Poland. The reason Raciborski appreciates you so much is that you have no Polish habits, nota bene, not those Polish habits you know and I mean. 

 You are staying at No. 26 [Chaussee d'Antin]. Are you comfortable? On what floor, and how much do you pay? I take more and more interest in these matters, for I also shall be obliged to think of new apartments, but not till after my return to Paris. 

 I had only that letter from Pleyel which he sent through you-- it is a month ago or more. Write to the same address, Rue et Hotel Beauveau. 

 Perhaps you did not understand what I said above about my having played for Nourrit. His body was brought from Italy and carried to Paris. There was a Requiem Mass for his soul. I was asked by his friends to play on the organ during the Elevation. 

 Did Miss Wieck play my Etude well? Could she not select something better than just this etude, the least interesting for those who do not know that it is written for the black keys? It would have been far better to do nothing at all. [FOOTNOTE: Clara Wieck gave a concert in Paris on April 16, 1839. The study in question is No. 5 of Op. 10 (G flat major). Only the right hand plays throughout on black keys. ]

 In conclusion, I have nothing more to write, except to wish you good luck in the new house. Hide my manuscripts, that they may not appear printed before the time. If the Prelude is printed, that is Pleyel's trick. But I do not care. Mischievous Germans, rascally Jews. .. ! Finish the litany, for you know them as well as I do. 

 Give my love to Johnnie and Grzymaia if you see them. --Your

 FREDERICK. 

One subject mentioned in this letter deserves a fullerexplanation than Chopin vouchsafes. Adolphe Nourrit, thecelebrated tenor singer, had in a state of despondency, caused bythe idea that since the appearance of his rival Duprez hispopularity was on the wane, put an end to his life by throwinghimself out of a window at Naples on the 8th of March, 1839. [FOOTNOTE: This is the generally-accepted account of Nourrit'sdeath. But Madame Garcia, the mother of the famous Malibran, whoat the time was staying in the same house, thought it might havebeen an accident, the unfortuante artist having in the darkopened a window on a level with the floor instead of a door. (SeeFetis: Biographie universelle des Musiciens. )] Madame Nourritbrought her husband's body to Paris, and it was on the waythither that a funeral service was held at Marseilles for themuch-lamented man and singer. 

Le Sud, Journal de la Mediterranee of April 25, 1839, [FOOTNOTE:Quoted in L. M. Quicherat's Adolphe Nourrit, sa vie, son talent, son caractere] shall tell us of Chopin's part in this service:--

 At the Elevation of the Host were heard the melancholy tones of the organ. It was M. Chopin, the celebrated pianist, who came to place a souvenir on the coffin of Nourrit; and what a souvenir! a simple melody of Schubert, but the same which had so filled us with enthusiasm when Nourrit revealed it to us at Marseilles--the melody of Les Astres. [FOOTNOTE: Die gestirne is the original German title of this song. ]

A less colourless account, one full of interesting facts and freefrom conventional newspaper sentiment and enthusiasm, we find ina letter of Chopin's companion. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Marseilles, April 28, 1839:--

 The day before yesterday I saw Madame Nourrit with her six children, and the seventh coming shortly. .. Poor unfortunate woman! what a return to France! accompanying this corpse, and she herself super-intending the packing, transporting, and unpacking [charger, voiturer, deballer] of it like a parcel!

 They held here a very meagre service for the poor deceased, the bishop being ill-disposed. This was in the little church of Notre-Dame-du-Mont. I do not know if the singers did so intentionally, but I never heard such false singing. Chopin devoted himself to playing the organ at the Elevation, what an organ! A false, screaming instrument, which had no wind except for the purpose of being out of tune. Nevertheless, YOUR LITTLE ONE [votre petit] made the most of it. He took the least shrill stops, and played Les Astres, not in a proud and enthusiastic style as Nourrit used to sing it, but in a plaintive and soft style, like the far-off echo from another world. Two, at the most three, were there who deeply felt this, and our eyes filled with tears. 

 The rest of the audience, who had gone there en masse, and had been led by curiosity to pay as much as fifty centimes for a chair (an unheard-of price for Marseilles), were very much disappointed; for it was expected that he would make a tremendous noise and break at least two or three stops. They expected also to see me, in full dress, in the very middle of the choir; what not? They did not see me at all; I was hidden in the organ-loft, and through the balustrade I descried the coffin of poor Nourrit. 

Thanks to the revivifying influences of spring and Dr. Cauviere'sattention and happy treatment, Chopin was able to accompanyGeorge Sand on a trip to Genoa, that vaga gemma del mar, fiordelta terra. It gave George Sand much pleasure to see again, nowwith her son Maurice by her side, the beautiful edifices andpictures of the city which six years before she had visited withMusset. Chopin was probably not strong enough to join his friendsin all their sight-seeing, but if he saw Genoa as it presentsitself on being approached from the sea, passed along the ViaNuova between the double row of magnificent palaces, and viewedfrom the cupola of S. Maria in Carignano the city, its port, thesea beyond, and the stretches of the Riviera di Levante andRiviera di Ponente, he did not travel to Italy in vain. ThusChopin got at last a glimpse of the land where nine years beforehe had contemplated taking up his abode for some time. 

On returning to Marseilles, after a stormy passage, on whichChopin suffered much from sea-sickness, George Sand and her partyrested for a few days at the house of Dr. Cauviere, and then setout, on the 22nd of May, for Nohant. 

Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Marseilles, May 20, 1839:--

 We have just arrived from Genoa, in a terrible storm. The bad weather kept us on sea double the ordinary time; forty hours of rolling such as I have not seen for a long time. It was a fine spectacle, and if everybody had not been ill, I would have greatly enjoyed it. .. 

 We shall depart the day after to-morrow for Nohant. Address your next letter to me there, we shall be there in eight days. My carriage has arrived from Chalon at Arles by boat, and we shall post home very quietly, sleeping at the inns like good bourgeois. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

JUNE TO OCTOBER, 1839. 

GEORGE SAND AND CHOPIN'S RETURN TO NOHANT. --STATE OF HIS HEALTH. --HIS POSITION IN HIS FRIEND'S HOUSE. --HER ACCOUNT OF THEIRRELATIONSHIP. --HIS LETTERS TO FONTANA, WHICH, AMONG MANY OTHERMATTERS, TREAT OF HIS COMPOSITIONS AND OF PREPARATIONS TO BE MADEFOR HIS AND GEORGE SAND'S ARRIVAL IN PARIS. 

The date of one of George Sand's letters shows that thetravellers were settled again at Nohant on the 3rd of June, 1839. Dr. Papet, a rich friend of George Sand's, who practised his artonly for the benefit of the poor and his friends, took theconvalescent Chopin at once under his care. He declared that hispatient showed no longer any symptoms of pulmonary affection, butwas suffering merely from a slight chronic laryngeal affectionwhich, although he did not expect to be able to cure it, need notcause any serious alarm. 

On returning to Nohant, George Sand had her mind much exercisedby the question how to teach her children. She resolved toundertake the task herself, but found she was not suited for it, at any rate, could not acquit herself of it satisfactorilywithout giving up writing. This question, however, was not theonly one that troubled her. 

 In the irresolution in which I was for a time regarding the arrangement of my life with a view to what would be best for my dear children, a serious question was debated in my conscience. I asked myself if I ought to entertain the idea which Chopin had formed of taking up his abode near me. I should not have hesitated to say "no, " had I known then for how short a time the retired life and the solemnity of the country suited his moral and physical health. I still attributed his despair and horror of Majorca to the excitement of fever and the exces de caractere of that place. Nohant offered pleasanter conditions, a less austere retreat, congenial society, and resources in case of illness. Papet was to him an enlightened and kind physician. Fleury, Duteil, Duvernet, and their families, Planet, and especially Rollinat, were dear to him at first sight. All of them loved him also, and felt disposed to spoil him as I did. 

Among those with whom the family at Nohant had much intercourse, and who were frequent guests at the chateau, was also an oldacquaintance of ours, one who had not grown in wisdom as in age, I mean George Sand's half-brother, Hippolyte Chatiron, who wasnow again living in Berry, his wife having inherited the estateof Montgivray, situated only half a league from Nohant. 

 His warmth of manner, his inexhaustible gaiety, the originality of his sallies, his enthusiastic and naive effusions of admiration for the genius of Chopin, the always respectful deference which he showed to him alone, even in the inevitable and terrible apres-boire, found favour with the eminently-aristocratic artist. All, then, went very well at first, and I entertained eventually the idea that Chopin might rest and regain his health by spending a few summers with us, his work necessarily calling him back to Paris in the winter. 

 However, the prospect of this kind of family union with a newly-made friend caused me to reflect. I felt alarmed at the task which I was about to undertake, and which I had believed would be limited to the journey in Spain. 

In short, George Sand presents herself as a sister of mercy, who, prompted by charity, sacrifices her own happiness for that ofanother. Contemplating the possibility of her son falling ill andherself being thereby deprived of the joys of her work, sheexclaims: "What hours of my calm and invigorating life should Ibe able to devote to another patient, much more difficult tonurse and comfort than Maurice?"

The discussion of this matter by George Sand is so characteristicof her that, lengthy as it is, I cannot refrain from giving it infull. 

 A kind of terror seized me in presence of a new duty which I was to take upon me. I was not under the illusion of passion. I had for the artist a kind of maternal adoration which was very warm, very real, but which could not for a moment contend with maternal love, the only chaste feeling which may be passionate. 

 I was still young enough to have perhaps to contend with love, with passion properly so called. This contingency of my age, of my situation, and of the destiny of artistic women, especially when they have a horror of passing diversions, alarmed me much, and, resolved as I was never to submit to any influence which might divert me from my children, I saw a less, but still possible danger in the tender friendship with which Chopin inspired me. 

 Well, after reflection, this danger disappeared and even assumed an opposite character--that of a preservative against emotions which I no longer wished to know. One duty more in my life, already so full of and so overburdened with work, appeared to me one chance more to attain the austerity towards which I felt myself attracted with a kind of religious enthusiasm. 

If this is a sincere confession, we can only wonder at the heightof self-deception attainable by the human mind; if, however, itis meant as a justification, we cannot but be surprised at thewant of skill displayed by the generally so clever advocate. Infact, George Sand has in no instance been less happy in defendingher conduct and in setting forth her immaculate virtuousness. Thegreat words "chastity" and "maternity" are of course not absent. George Sand could as little leave off using them as some peoplecan leave off using oaths. In either case the words imply muchmore than is intended by those from whose mouths or pens theycome. A chaste woman speculating on "real love" and "passingdiversions, " as George Sand does here, seems to me a strangephenomenon. And how charmingly naive is the remark she makesregarding her relations with Chopin as a "PRESERVATIVE againstemotions which she no longer wished to know"! I am afraid theconcluding sentence, which in its unction is worthy of Pecksniff, and where she exhibits herself as an ascetic and martyr in allthe radiance of saintliness, will not have the desired effect, but will make the reader laugh as loud as Musset is said to havedone when she upbraided him with his ungratefulness to her, whohad been devoted to him to the utmost bounds of self-abnegation, to the sacrifice of her noblest impulses, to the degradation ofher chaste nature. 

George Sand, looking back in later years on this period of herlife, thought that if she had put into execution her project ofbecoming the teacher of her children, and of shutting herself upall the year round at Nohant, she would have saved Chopin fromthe danger which, unknown to her, threatened him--namely, thedanger of attaching himself too absolutely to her. At that time, she says, his love was not so great but that absence would havediverted him from it. Nor did she consider his affectionexclusive. In fact, she had no doubt that the six months whichhis profession obliged him to pass every year in Paris would, "after a few days of malaise and tears, " have given him back to"his habits of elegance, exquisite success, and intellectualcoquetry. " The correctness of the facts and the probability ofthe supposition may be doubted. At any rate, the reasons whichled her to assume the non-exclusiveness of Chopin's affection aresimply childish. That he spoke to her of a romantic love-affairhe had had in Poland, and of sweet attractions he had afterwardsexperienced in Paris, proves nothing. What she says about hismother having been his only passion is still less to the point. But reasoning avails little, and the strength of Chopin's lovewas not put to the test. He went, indeed, in the autumn of 1839to Paris, but not alone; George Sand, professedly for the sake ofher children's education, went there likewise. "We were driven byfate, " she says, "into the bonds of a long connection, and bothof us entered into it unawares. " The words "driven by fate, " and"entered into it unawares, " sound strange, if we remember thatthey apply not to a young girl who, inexperienced and confiding, had lost herself in the mazes of life, but to a novelist skilledin the reading of human hearts, to a constantly-reasoning andcalculating woman, aged 35, who had better reasons than poorAmelia in Schiller's play for saying "I have lived and loved. "

After all this reasoning, moralising, and sentimentalising, it ispleasant to be once more face to face with facts, of which thefollowing letters, written by Chopin to Fontana during the monthsfrom June to October, 1839, contain a goodly number. The rathermonotonous publishing transactions play here and there again aprominent part, but these Nohant letters are on the whole moreinteresting than the Majorca letters, and decidedly more variedas regards contents than those he wrote from Marseilles--theytell us much more of the writer's tastes and requirements, andeven reveal something of his relationship to George Sand. Chopin, it appears to me, did not take exactly the same view of thisrelationship as the novelist. What will be read with mostinterest are Chopin's directions as to the decoration andfurnishing of his rooms, the engagement of a valet, the orderingof clothes and a hat, the taking of a house for George Sand, andcertain remarks made en passant on composers and other less-knownpeople. 

 [I. ]

 . .. The best part of your letter is your address, which I had already forgotten, and without which I do not know if I would have answered you so soon; but the worst is the death of Albrecht. [FOOTNOTE: See p. 27 foot-note 7. ]

 You wish to know when I shall be back. When the misty and rainy weather begins, for I must breathe fresh air. 

 Johnnie has left. I don't know if he asked you to forward to me the letters from my parents should any arrive during his absence and be sent to his usual address. Perhaps he thought of it, perhaps not. I should be very sorry if any of them miscarried. It is not long since I had a letter from home, they will not write soon, and by this time he, who is so kind and good, will be in good health and return. 

 I am composing here a Sonata in B flat minor, in which will be the Funeral March which you have already. There is an allegro, then a "Scherzo" in E flat minor, the "March, " and a short "Finale" of about three pages. The left hand unisono with the right hand are gossiping [FOOTNOTE: "Lewa reka unisono z prawa, ogaduja po Marszu. "] after the March. I have a new "Nocturne" in G major, which will go along with the Nocturne in G minor, [FOOTNOTE: "Deux Nocturnes, " Op. 37. ] if you remember such a one. 

 You know that I have four new mazurkas: one from Palma in E minor, three from here in B major, A flat major, and C sharp minor. [FOOTNOTE: Quatre mazurkas, Op. 41. ] They seem to me pretty, as the youngest children usually do when the parents grow old. 

 Otherwise I do nothing; I correct for myself the Parisian edition of Bach; not only the stroke-makers' [FOOTNOTE: In Polish strycharz, the usual meaning of which is "brickmaker. " Chopin may have played upon the word. A mistake, however, is likewise possible, as the Polish for engraver is sztycharz. ] (engravers') errors, but, I think, the harmonic errors committed by those who pretend to understand Bach. I do not do it with the pretension that I understand him better than they, but from a conviction that I sometimes guess how it ought to be. 

 You see I have praised myself enough to you. 

 Now, if Grzymata will visit me (which is doubtful), send me through him Weber for four hands. Also the last of my Ballade in manuscript, as I wish to change something in it. I should like very much to have your copy of the last mazurkas, if you have such a thing, for I do not know if my gallantry went so far as to give you a copy. 

 Pleyel wrote to me that you were very obliging, and have corrected the Preludes. Do you know how much Wessel paid him for them? It would be well to know this for the future. 

 My father has written to me that my old sonata has been published by Haslinger, and that the Germans praise it. [FOOTNOTE: There must have been some misunderstanding; the Sonata, Op. 4, was not published till 1851. ]

 I have now, counting those you have, six manuscripts; the devil take them if they get them for nothing. Pleyel did not do me any service with his offers, for he thereby made Schlesinger indifferent about me. But I hope this will be set right, f wrote to ask him to let me know if he had been paid for the piano sent to Palma, and I did so because the French consul in Majorca, whom I know very well, was to be changed, and had he not been paid, it would have been very difficult for me to settle this affair at such a distance. Fortunately, he is paid, and very liberally, as he wrote to me only last week. 

 Write to me what sort of lodgings you have. Do you board at the club?

 Woyciechowski wrote to me to compose an oratorio. I answered him in the letter to my parents. Why does he build a sugar- refinery and not a monastery of Camaldolites or a nunnery of Dominican sisters!

 [2. ]

 I give you my most hearty thanks for your upright, friendly, not English but Polish soul. 

 Select paper (wall-paper) such as I had formerly, tourterelle (dove colour), only bright and glossy, for the two rooms, also dark green with not too broad stripes. For the anteroom something else, but still respectable. Nevertheless, if there are any nicer and more fashionable papers that are to your liking, and you think that I also will like them, then take them. I prefer the plain, unpretending, and neat ones to the common shopkeeper's staring colours. Therefore, pearl colour pleases me, for it is neither loud nor does it look vulgar. I thank you for the servant's room, for it is much needed. 

 Now, as to the furniture: you will make the best of it if you look to it yourself. I did not dare to trouble you with it, but if you will be so kind, take it and arrange it as it ought to be. I shall ask Grzymala to give money for the removal. I shall write to him about it at once. As to the bed and writing- desk, it may be necessary to give them to the cabinet-maker to be renewed. In this case you will take the papers out of the writing-desk, and lock them up somewhere else. I need not tell you what you ought to do. Act as you like and judge what is necessary. Whatever you may do will be well done. You have my full confidence: this is one thing. 

 Now the second. 

 You must write to Wessel--doubtless you have already written about the Preludes. Let him know that I have six new manuscripts, for which I want 300 francs each (how many pounds is that?). If you think he would not give so much, let me know first. Inform me also if Probst is in Paris. Further look out for a servant. I should prefer a respectable honest Pole. Tell also Grzymala of it. Stipulate that he is to board himself; no more than 80 francs. I shall not be in Paris before the end of October--keep this, however, to yourself. 

 My dear friend, the state of Johnnie's health weighs sometimes strangely on my heart. May God give him what he stands in need of, but he should not allow himself to be cheated. .. However, this is neither here nor there. The greatest truth in the world is that I shall always love you as a most honest and kind man and Johnnie as another. 

 I embrace you both, write each of you and soon, were it of nothing more than the weather. --Your old more than ever long- nosed

 FREDERICK. 

 [3. ]

 According to your description and that of Grzymala you have found such capital rooms that we are now thinking you have a lucky hand, and for this reason a man--and he is a great man, being the portier of George's house--who will run about to find a house for her, is ordered to apply to you when he has found a few; and you with your elegant tact (you see how I flatter you) will also examine what he has found, and give your opinion thereon. The main point is that it should be detached, if possible; for instance, a little hotel. Or something in a courtyard, with a view into a garden, or, if there be no garden, into a large court-yard; nota bene, very few lodgers--elegant--not higher than the second story. Perhaps some corps de logis, but small, or something like Perthuis's house, or even smaller. Lastly, should it be in front, the street must not be noisy. In one word, something you judge would be good for her. If it could be near me, so much the better; but if it cannot be, this consideration need not prevent you. 

 It seems to me that a little hotel in the new streets--such as Clichy, Blanche, or Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, as far as Rue des Martyrs--would be most suitable. Moreover, I send you a list of the streets where Mr. Mardelle--the portier of the Hotel Narbonne, Rue de la Harpe, No. 89, which belongs to George-- will look for a house. If in your leisure time you also looked out for something in our part of the town, it would be very nice. Fancy, I don't know why, but we think that you will find something wonderfully good, although it is already late. 

 The price she wishes to pay is from 2, 000 to 2, 500 francs, you might also give a couple of hundred francs more if anything extra fine should turn up. Grzymala and Arago promised to look out for something, but in spite of Grzymala's efforts nothing acceptable has thus far been found. I have written to him that he should employ you also in this business of mine (I say of MINE, for it is just the same as if it were mine). I shall write to him again to-day and tell him that I have asked you to give your help and use all your talents. It is necessary that there should be three bedrooms, two of which must be beside each other and one separated, for instance, by the drawing-room. Adjoining the third there will be required a well-lighted cabinet for her study. The other two may be small, this one, the third, also not very large. Besides this a drawing-room and dining-room in proportion. A pretty large kitchen. Two rooms for the servants, and a coal-cellar. The rooms must of course have inlaid floors, be newly laid, if possible, and require no repairs. But a little hotel or a separate part of a house in a court-yard looking into a garden would be most desirable. There must be tranquillity, quietness, no blacksmith in the neighbourhood. Respectable stairs. The windows exposed to the sun, absolutely to the south. Further, there must be no smoke, no bad odour, but a fine view, a garden, or at least a large court. A garden would be best. In the Faubourg St. Germain are many gardens, also in the Faubourg St. Honore. Find something quickly, something splendid, and near me. As soon as you have any chance, write immediately, don't be lazy; or get hold of Grzymala, go and see, both of you, take et que cela finisse. I send you a plan of the arrangement of the apartments. If you find something like this, draw the plan, or take it at once, which will be better than letting it slip out of your hands. 

 Mr. Mardelle is a decent man, and no fool, he was not always a portier. He is ordered to go and see you whenever he finds anything. You must also on your part be on the look-out, but let us keep that between us. I embrace you and Johnnie also. You will have our true gratitude when you find a house. 

 [a diagram of the apartments is inserted here in the letter. ]

 +----------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | Study | Bedroom. | Drawing room. | Bedroom. | Servants’ room. | | | | | | | |----------------------------------------------------------------| | | | | | | Dining room | | | | | | |----------------------------------------------------------------| | | | | | | Lobby | | | | | | +----------------------------------------------------------------+

 Pas de voisinage, surtout blacksmith, nor anything that belongs to him. For God's sake I beg of you take an active interest in the matter, my dear friend!

 [4. ]

 I thank you for all your kind actions. 

 In the anteroom you will direct the grey curtains to be hung which were in my cabinet with the piano, and in the bedroom the same that were in the bedroom, only under them the white muslin ones which were under the grey ones. 

 I should like to have a little press in my bedroom, unless there be not room enough, or the drawing-room be too bare between the windows. 

 If the little sofa, the same which stood in the dining-room, could be covered with red, with the same stuff with which the chairs are covered, it might be placed in the drawing-room; but as it would be necessary to call in the upholsterer for that, it may be difficult. 

 It is a good thing that Domaradzki is going to be married, for surely he will give me back the 80 francs after the wedding. I should like also to see Podczaski married, and Nakw. (Nakwaska), and Anthony also. Let this remain between this paper, myself, and you. 

 Find me a valet. Kiss Madame Leo (surely the first commission will be the more pleasant to you, wherefore I relieve you of the second if you will do the first). 

 Let me know about Probst, whether he is in Paris or not. Do not forget Wessel. Tell Gutmann that I was much pleased that he asked for me at least once. To Moscheles, should he be in Paris, order to be given an injection of Neukomm's oratorios, prepared with Berlioz's "Cellini" and Doehler's Concerto. Give Johnnie from me for his breakfast moustaches of sphinxes and kidneys of parrots, with tomato sauce powdered with little eggs of the microscopic world. You yourself take a bath in whale's infusion as a rest from all the commissions I give you, for I know that you will do willingly as much as time will permit, and I shall do the same for you when you are married--of which Johnnie will very likely inform me soon. Only not to Ox, for that is my party. 

 [5. ]

 My dear friend, --In five, six, or seven days I shall be in Paris. Get things prepared as quickly as possible; if not all, let me find at least the rooms papered and the bed ready. 

 I am hastening my arrival as the presence of George Sand is necessary on account of a piece to be played. [FOOTNOTE: "Cosima. " The first representation, at the Comedie Francaise, did not take place until April, 1840. ] But this remains between us. We have fixed our departure for the day after to- morrow; thus, counting a few days for delay, we shall see each other on Wednesday or Thursday. 

 Besides the different commissions I gave you, especially that in the last letter about her house, which after our arrival will be off your shoulders--but till then, for God's sake, be obliging--besides all this, I say, I forgot to ask you to order for me a hat from my Duport in your street, Chaussee d'Antin. He has my measure, and knows how light I want it and of what kind. Let him give the hat of this year's shape, not too much exaggerated, for I do not know how you are dressing yourself just now. Again, besides this, call in passing at Dautremont's, my tailor's, on the Boulevards, and order him to make me at once a pair of grey trousers. You will yourself select a dark-grey colour for winter trousers; something respectable, not striped, but plain and elastic. You are an Englishman, so you know what I require. Dautremont will be glad to hear that I am coming. Also a quiet black velvet waistcoat, but with very little and no loud pattern, something very quiet but very elegant. Should he not have the best velvet of this kind, let him make a quiet, fine silk waistcoat, but not too much open. If the servant could be got for less than 80 francs, I should prefer it; but as you have already found one, let the matter rest. 

 My very dear friend, pardon me once more for troubling you, but I must. In a few days we shall see each other, and embrace for all this. 

 I beg of you, for God's sake, do not say to any Poles that I am coming so soon, nor to any Jewess either, as I should like to reserve myself during the first few days only for you, Grzymala, and Johnnie. Give them my love; to the latter I shall write once more. 

 I expect that the rooms will be ready. Write constantly to me, three times a day if you like, whether you have anything to say or not. Before leaving here I shall once more write to you. 

 Monday. 

 You are inappreciable! Take Rue Pigal [Pigalle], both houses, without asking anybody. Make haste. If by taking both houses you can diminish a little the price, well; if not, take them for 2, 500 francs. Do not let them slip out of your hands, for we think them the best and most excellent. SHE regards you as my most logical and best--and I would add: the most splenetic, Anglo-Polish, from my soul beloved--friend. 

 [6. ]

 The day after to-morrow, Thursday, at five o'clock in the morning, we start, and on Friday at three, four, certainly at five o'clock, I shall be in Rue Tronchet, No. 5. I beg of you to inform the people there of this, I wrote to Johnnie to-day to retain for me that valet, and order him to wait for me at Rue Tronchet on Friday from noon. Should you have time to call upon me at that time, we would most heartily embrace each other. Once more my and my companion's most sincere thanks for Rue Pigalle. 

 Now, keep a sharp look-out on the tailor, he must have the clothes ready by Friday morning, so that I can change my clothes as soon as I come. Order him to take them to Rue Tronchet, and deliver them there to the valet Tineau--if I mistake not, that is his name. Likewise the hat from Dupont, [FOOTNOTE: In the preceding letter it was Duport] and for that I shall alter for you the second part of the Polonaise till the last moment of my life. Yesterday's version also may not please you, although I racked my brains with it for at least eighty seconds. 

 I have written out my manuscripts in good order. There are six with your Polonaises, not counting the seventh, an impromptu, which may perhaps be worthless--I do not know myself, it is too new. But it would be well if it be not too much in the style of Orlowski, Zimmermann, or Karsko-Konski, [FOOTNOTE: Chopin's countryman, the pianist and composer Antoine Kontski] or Sowinski, or other similar animals. For, according to my reckoning, it might fetch me about 800 francs. That will be seen afterwards. 

 As you are such a clever man, you might also arrange that no black thoughts and suffocating coughs shall annoy me in the new rooms. Try to make me good. Change, if you can, many episodes of my past. It would also not be a bad thing if I should find a few years of great work accomplished. By this you will greatly oblige me, also if you would make yourself younger or bring about that we had never been born. --Your old

 FREDERICK. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

1839-1842. 

RETURN OF GEORGE SAND AND CHOPIN TO PARIS. --GEORGE SAND IN THERUE PIGALLE. --CHOPIN IN THE RUE TRONCHET: REMINISCENCES OFBRINLEY RICHARDS AND MOSCHELES. --SOIREES AT LEO'S AND ST. CLOUD. --CHOPIN JOINS MADAME SAND IN THE RUE PIGALLE. --EXTRACTS FROMGEORGE SAND'S CORRESPONDANCE; A LETTER OF MADAME SAND'S TOCHOPIN; BALZAC ANECDOTES. --MADAME SAND AND CHOPIN DO NOT GO TONOHANT IN 1840. --COMPOSITIONS OF THIS PERIOD. --ABOUT CHOPIN AS APIANIST. --LETTERS WRITTEN TO FONTANA IN THE SUMMER AND AUTUMN OF1841. 

Although Chopin and George Sand came to Paris towards the end ofOctober, 1839, months passed before the latter got into the housewhich Fontana had taken for her. This we learn from a letterwritten by her to her friend Gustave Papet, and dated Paris, January, 1840, wherein we read:--

 At last I am installed in the Rue Pigalle, 16, only since the last two days, after having fumed, raged, stormed, and sworn at the upholsterers, locksmith, &c. , &c. What a long, horrible, unbearable business it is to lodge one's self here!

 [FOOTNOTE: In the letter, dated Paris, October, 1839, preceding, in the George Sand "Correspondance, " the one from which the above passage is extracted, occur the following words: "Je suis enfin installee chez moi a Paris. " Where this chez moi was, I do not know. ]

How greatly the interiors of George Sand's pavilions in the RuePigalle differed from those of Senor Gomez's villa and the cellsin the monastery of Valdemosa, may be gathered from Gutmann'sdescription of two of the apartments. 

[FOOTNOTE: I do not guarantee the correctness of all thefollowing details, although I found them in a sketch of Gutmann'slife inspired by himself ("Der Lieblings-schuler Chopin's", No. 3of "Schone Geister, " by Bernhard Stavenow, Bremen, 1879), andwhich he assured me was trustworthy. The reasons of my scepticismare--1, Gutmann's imaginative memory and tendency to show himselfoff to advantage; 2, Stavenow's love of fine writing and a goodstory; 3, innumerable misstatements that can be indisputablyproved by documents. ]

Regarding the small salon, he gives only the general informationthat it was quaintly fitted up with antique furniture. But ofGeorge Sand's own room, which made a deeper impression upon him, he mentions so many particulars--the brown carpet covering thewhole floor, the walls hung with a dark-brown ribbed cloth(Ripsstoff), the fine paintings, the carved furniture of darkoak, the brown velvet seats of the chairs, the large square bed, rising but little above the floor, and covered with a Persian rug(Teppich)--that it is easy to picture to ourselves the tout-ensemble of its appearance. Gutmann tells us that he had an earlyopportunity of making these observations, for Chopin visited hispupil the very day after his arrival (?), and invited him at onceto call on George Sand in order to be introduced to her. WhenGutmann presented himself in the small salon above alluded to, hefound George Sand seated on an ottoman smoking a cigarette. Shereceived the young man with great cordiality, telling him thathis master had often spoken to her of him most lovingly. Chopinentered soon after from an adjoining apartment, and then they allwent into the dining-room to have dinner. When they were seatedagain in the cosy salon, and George Sand had lit anothercigarette, the conversation, which had touched on a variety oftopics, among the rest on Majorca, turned on art. It was thenthat the authoress said to her friend: "Chop, Chop, show Gutmannmy room that he may see the pictures which Eugene Delacroixpainted for me. "

Chopin on arriving in Paris had taken up his lodgings in the RueTronchet, No. 5, and resumed teaching. One of his pupils therewas Brinley Richards, who practised under him one of the books ofstudies. Chopin also assisted the British musician in thepublication, by Troupenas, of his first composition, havingpreviously looked over and corrected it. Brinley Richardsinformed me that Chopin, who played rarely in these lessons, making his corrections and suggestions rather by word of mouththan by example, was very languid, indeed so much so that helooked as if he felt inclined to lie down, and seemed to say: "Iwish you would come another time. "

About this time, that is in the autumn or early in the winter of1839, Moscheles came to Paris. We learn from his diary that atLeo's, where he liked best to play, he met for the first timeChopin, who had just returned from the country, and whoseacquaintance he was impatient to make. I have already quoted whatMoscheles said of Chopin's appearance--namely, that it wasexactly like [identificirt mit] his music, both being delicateand dreamy [schwarmerisch]. His remarks on his greatcontemporary's musical performances are, of course, still moreinteresting to us. 

 He played to me at my request, and now for the first time I understand his music, and can also explain to myself the enthusiasm of the ladies. His ad libitum playing, which with the interpreters of his music degenerates into disregard of time, is with him only the most charming originality of execution; the dilettantish harsh modulations which strike me disagreeably when I am playing his compositions no longer shock me, because he glides lightly over them in a fairy-like way with his delicate fingers; his piano is so softly breathed forth that he does not need any strong forte in order to produce the wished-for contrasts; it is for this reason that one does not miss the orchestral-like effects which the German school demands from a pianoforte-player, but allows one's self to be carried away, as by a singer who, little concerned about the accompaniment, entirely follows his feeling. In short, he is an unicum in the world of pianists. He declares that he loves my music very much, and at all events he knows it very well. He played me some studies and his latest work, the "Preludes, " and I played him many of my compositions. 

In addition to this characterisation of the artist Chopin, Moscheles' notes afford us also some glimpses of the man. "Chopinwas lively, merry, nay, exceedingly comical in his imitations ofPixis, Liszt, and a hunchbacked pianoforte-player. " Some daysafterwards, when Moscheles saw him at his own house, he found himan altogether different Chopin:--

 I called on him according to agreement with Ch. And E. , who are also quite enthusiastic about him, and who were particularly struck with the "Prelude" in A flat major in 6/8 time with the ever-recurring pedal A flat. Only the Countess O. [Obreskoff] from St. Petersburg, who adores us artists en bloc, was there, and some gentlemen. Chopin's excellent pupil Gutmann played his master's manuscript Scherzo in C sharp minor. Chopin himself played his manuscript Sonata in B flat minor with the Funeral March. 

Gutmann relates that Chopin sent for him early in the morning ofthe day following that on which he paid the above-mentioned visitto George Sand, and said to him:--

 Pardon me for disturbing you so early in the morning, but I have just received a note from Moscheles, wherein he expresses his joy at my return to Paris, and announces that he will visit me at five in the afternoon to hear my new compositions. Now I am unfortunately too weak to play my things to him; so you must play. I am chiefly concerned about this Scherzo. 

Gutmann, who did not yet know the work (Op. 39), thereupon satdown at Chopin's piano, and by dint of hard practising managed toplay it at the appointed hour from memory, and to thesatisfaction of the composer. Gutmann's account does not tally inseveral of its details with Moscheles'. As, however, Moschelesdoes not give us reminiscences, but sober, business-like notestaken down at the time they refer to, and without any attempt atmaking a nice story, he is the safer authority. Still, thus muchat least we may assume to be certain:--Gutmann played theScherzo, Op. 39, on this occasion, and his rendering of it wassuch as to induce his master to dedicate it to him. 

Comte de Perthuis, the adjutant of King Louis Philippe, who hadheard Chopin and Moscheles repeatedly play the latter's Sonata inE flat major for four hands, spoke so much and soenthusiastically about it at Court that the royal family, wishing"to have also the great treat, " invited the two artists to cometo St. Cloud. The day after this soiree Moscheles wrote in hisdiary:--

 Yesterday was a memorable day. .. At nine o'clock Chopin and I, with Perthuis and his amiable wife, who had called for us, drove out to St. Cloud in the heaviest showers of rain, and felt so much the more comfortable when we entered the brilliant, well-lighted palace. We passed through many state- rooms into a salon carre, where the royal family was assembled en petit comite. At a round table sat the queen with an elegant work-basket before her (perhaps to embroider a purse for me?); near her were Madame Adelaide, the Duchess of Orleans, and ladies-in-waiting. The noble ladies were as affable as if we had been old acquaintances. .. Chopin played first a number of nocturnes and studies, and was admired and petted like a favourite. After I also had played some old and new studies, and been honoured with the same applause, we seated ourselves together at the instrument--he again playing the bass, which he always insists on doing. The close attention of the little circle during my E flat major Sonata was interrupted only by the exclamations "divine!" "delicious!" After the Andante the queen whispered to a lady- in-waiting: "Would it not be indiscreet to ask them to play it again?" which naturally was equivalent to a command to repeat it, and so we played it again with increased abandon. In the Finale we gave ourselves up to a musical delirium. Chopin's enthusiasm throughout the whole piece must, I believe, have infected the auditors, who now burst forth into eulogies of us. Chopin played again alone with the same charm, and called forth the same sympathy as before; then I improvised. .. 

 [FOOTNOTE: In the "Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik" of November 12, 1839, we read that Chopin improvised on Grisar's "La Folle, " Moscheles on themes by Mozart. La Folle is a romance the success of which was so great that a wit called it une folie de salon. It had for some years an extraordinary popularity, and made the composer a reputation. ]

To show his gratitude, the king sent the two artists valuablepresents: to Chopin a gold cup and saucer, to Moscheles atravelling case. "The king, " remarked Chopin, "gave Moscheles atravelling case to get the sooner rid of him. " The composer wasfond of and had a talent for throwing off sharp and wittysayings; but it is most probable that on this occasion the wordswere prompted solely by the fancy, and that their ill-nature wasonly apparent. Or must we assume that the man Moscheles was lesscongenial to Chopin than the artist? Moscheles was a Jew, andChopin disliked the Jews. As, however, the tempting opportunityafforded by the nature of the king's present to Moscheles issufficient to account for Chopin's remark, and no proofswarranting a less creditable explanation are forthcoming, itwould be unfair to listen to the suggestions of suspicion. 

George Sand tells us in the "Histoire de ma Vie" that Chopinfound his rooms in the Rue Tronchet cold and damp, and feltsorely the separation from her. The consequence of this was thatthe saintly woman, the sister of mercy, took, after some time, pity upon her suffering worshipper, and once more sacrificedherself. Not to misrepresent her account, the only one we have, of this change in the domestic arrangements of the two friends, Ishall faithfully transcribe her delicately-worded statements:--

 He again began to cough alarmingly, and I saw myself forced either to give in my resignation as nurse, or to pass my life in impossible journeyings to and fro. He, in order to spare me these, came every day to tell me with a troubled face and a feeble voice that he was wonderfully well. He asked if he might dine with us, and he went away in the evening, shivering in his cab. Seeing how he took to heart his exclusion from our family life, I offered to let to him one of the pavilions, a part of which I could give up to him. He joyfully accepted. He had there his room, received there his friends, and gave there his lessons without incommoding me. Maurice had the room above his; I occupied the other pavilion with my daughter. 

Let us see if we cannot get some glimpses of the life in thepavilions of the Rue Pigalle, No. 16. In the first months of1840, George Sand was busy with preparations for the performanceof her drama Cosima, moving heaven and earth to bring about theadmission of her friend Madame Dorval into the company of theTheatre-Francais, where her piece, in which she wished this ladyto take the principal part, was to be performed. Her son Mauricepassed his days in the studio of Eugene Delacroix; and Solangegave much time to her lessons, and lost much over her toilet. OfGrzymala we hear that he is always in love with all the beautifulwomen, and rolls his big eyes at the tall Borgnotte and thelittle Jacqueline; and that Madame Marliani is always up to herears in philosophy. This I gathered from George Sand'sCorrespondance, where, as the reader will see presently, more isto be found. 

George Sand to Chopin; Cambrai, August 13, 1840:--

 I arrived at noon very tired, for it is 45 and 35 leagues from Paris to this place. We shall relate to you good stories of the bourgeois of Cambrai. They are beaux, they are stupid, they are shopkeepers; they are the sublime of the genre. If the Historical Procession does not console us, we are capable of dying of ennui at the politeness which people show us. We are lodged like princes. But what hosts, what conversations, what dinners! We laugh at them when we are by ourselves, but when we are before the enemy, what a pitiable figure we selves, make! I am no longer desirous to see you come; but I aspire to depart very quickly, and I understand why you do not wish to give concerts. It is not unlikely that Pauline Viardot may not sing the day after to-morrow, for want of a hall. We shall, perhaps, leave a day sooner. I wish I were already far away from the Cambresians, male and female. 

 Good night! I am going to bed, I am overcome with fatigue. 

 Love your old woman [votre vieille] as she loves you. 

From a letter written two days later to her son, we learn thatMadame Viardot after all gave two concerts at Cambrai. Butamusing as the letter is, we will pass it over as not concerningus here. Of another letter (September 20, 1840), likewiseaddressed to her son, I shall quote only one passage, although itcontains much interesting matter about the friends and visitorsof the inmates of the pavilions of the Rue Pigalle, No. 16:--

 Balzac came to dine here the day before yesterday. He is quite mad. He has discovered the blue rose, for which the horticultural societies of London and Belgium have promised a reward of 500, 000 francs (qui dit, dit-il). He will sell, moreover, every grain at a hundred sous, and for this great botanic production he will lay out only fifty centimes. Hereupon Rollinat asked him naively:--

 "Well, why, then, do you not set about it at once?"

 To which Balzac replied:

 "Oh! because I have so many other things to do; but I shall set about it one of these days. "

Stavenow, in Schone Geister (see foot-note, p. 70), tells ananecdote of Balzac, which may find a place here:--

 One day Balzac had invited George Sand, Chopin, and Gutmann to dinner. On that occasion he related to them that the next day he would have to meet a bill of 30, 000 francs, but that he had not a sou in his pocket. Gutmann asked what he intended to do? "Well, " replied Balzac, "what shall I do? I wait quietly. Before to-morrow something unexpected may turn up, and give me the means to pay the sum. " Scarcely had he said this when the door bell rang. The servant entered and announced that a gentleman was there who urgently wished to speak with M. Balzac. 

 Balzac rose and left the room. After a quarter of an hour he came back in high spirits and said:

 "The 30, 000 francs are found. My publisher wishes to bring out a new edition of my works, and he offers me just this sum. "

 George Sand, Chopin, and Gutmann looked at each other with a smile, and thought--"Another one!"

George Sand to her son; Paris, September 4, 1840:--

 We have had here great shows of troops. They have fione the gendarme and cuisse the national guardsman. All Paris was in agitation, as if there were to be a revolution. Nothing took place, except that some passers-by were knocked down by the police. 

 There were places in Paris where it was dangerous to pass, as these gentlemen assassinated right and left for the pleasure of getting their hands into practice. Chopin, who will not believe anything, has at last the proof and certainty of it. 

 Madame Marliani is back. I dined at her house the day before yesterday with the Abbe de Lamennais. Yesterday Leroux dined here. Chopin embraces you a thousand times. He is always qui, qui, qui, me, me, me. Rollinat smokes like a steam-boat. Solange has been good for two or three days, but yesterday she had a fit of temper [acces de fureur]. It is the Rebouls, the English neighbours, people and dogs, who turn her head. 

In the summer of 1840 George Sand did not go to Nohant, andChopin seems to have passed most of, if not all, the time inParis. From a letter addressed to her half-brother, we learn thatthe reason of her staying away from her country-seat was a wishto economise:--

 If you will guarantee my being able to pass the summer at Nohant for 4, 000 francs, I will go. But I have never been there without spending 1, 500 francs per month, and as I do not spend here the half of this, it is neither the love of work, nor that of spending, nor that of glory, which makes me stay. .. 

George Sand's fits of economy never lasted very long. At anyrate, in the summer of 1841 we find her again at Nohant. But asit is my intention to treat of Chopin's domestic life at Nohantand in Paris with some fulness in special chapters, I shall nowturn to his artistic doings. 

In 1839 there appeared only one work by Chopin, Op. 28, the"Preludes, " but in the two following years as many as sixteen--namely, Op. 35-50. Here is an enumeration of these compositions, with the dates of publication and the dedications. 

[FOOTNOTE: Both the absence of dedications in the case of somecompositions, and the persons to whom others are dedicated, havea biographical significance. They tell us of the composer'sabsence from Paris and aristocratic society, and his return tothem. ]

The "Vingt-quatre Preludes, " Op. 28, published in September, 1839, have a twofold dedication, the French and English editionsbeing dedicated a son ami Pleyel, and the German to Mr. J. C. Kessler. The publications of 1840 are: in May--Op. 35, "Sonate"(B flat minor); Op. 36, "Deuxieme Impromptu" (F sharp minor); Op. 37, "Deux Nocturnes" (G minor and G major); in July--Op. 42, "Valse" (A flat major); in September--Op. 38, "Deuxieme Ballade"(F major), dedicated to Mr. R. Schumann; in October--Op. 39, "Troisieme Scherzo" (C sharp minor), dedicated to Mr. A. Gutmann;in November--Op. 40, "Deux Polonaises" (A major and C minor), dedicated to Mr. J. Fontana; and in December--Op. 41, "QuatreMazurkas" (C sharp and E minor, B and A flat major), dedicated toE. Witwicki. Those of 1841 are: in October--Op. 43, "Tarantelle"(A flat major), without any dedication; and in November--Op. 44, "Polonaise" (F sharp minor), dedicated to Madame la PrincesseCharles de Beauvau; Op. 45, "Prelude" (C sharp minor), dedicatedto Madame la Princesse Elizabeth Czernicheff; Op. 46, "Allegro deConcert" (A major), dedicated to Mdlle. F. Muller; Op. 47, "Troisieme Ballade" (A flat major), dedicated to Mdlle. P. DeNoailles; Op. 48, "Deux Nocturnes" (C minor and F sharp minor), dedicated to Mdlle. L. Duperre; Op. 49, "Fantaisie" (F minor), dedicated to Madame la Princesse C. De Souzzo; and Op. 50, "TroisMazurkas" (G and A flat major, and C sharp minor), dedicated toMr. Leon Smitkowski. 

Chopin's genius had now reached the most perfect stage of itsdevelopment, and was radiating with all the intensity of whichits nature was capable. Notwithstanding such later creations asthe fourth "Ballade, " Op. 52, the "Barcarolle, " Op. 60, and the"Polonaise, " Op. 53, it can hardly be said that the composersurpassed in his subsequent works those which he had published inrecent years, works among which were the first three ballades, the preludes, and a number of stirring polonaises and charmingnocturnes, mazurkas, and other pieces. 

However, not only as a creative artist, but also as an executant, Chopin was at the zenith of his power. His bodily frame hadindeed suffered from disease, but as yet it was not seriouslyinjured, at least, not so seriously as to disable him todischarge the functions of a musical interpreter. Moreover, thegreat majority of his compositions demanded from the executantother qualities than physical strength, which was indispensablein only a few of his works. A writer in the "Menestrel" (April25, 1841) asks himself the question whether Chopin had progressedas a pianist, and answers: "No, for he troubles himself littleabout the mechanical secrets of the piano; in him there is nocharlatanism; heart and genius alone speak, and in these respectshis privileged organisation has nothing to learn. " Or rather letus say, Chopin troubled himself enough about the mechanicalsecrets of the piano, but not for their own sakes: he regardedthem not as ends, but as means to ends, and although mechanicallyhe may have made no progress, he had done so poetically. Love andsorrow, those most successful teachers of poets and musicians, had not taught him in vain. 

It was a fortunate occurrence that at this period of his careerChopin was induced to give a concert, and equally fortunate thatmen of knowledge, judgment, and literary ability have left ustheir impressions of the event. The desirability of replenishingan ever-empty purse, and the instigations of George Sand, were nodoubt the chief motive powers which helped the composer toovercome his dislike to playing in public. 

"Do you practise when the day of the concert approaches?" askedLenz. [FOOTNOTE: Die grossen Pianoforte-Virtusen unstrer Zeit, p. 36. ] "It is a terrible time for me, " was Chopin's answer; "Idislike publicity, but it is part of my position. I shut myselfup for a fortnight and play Bach. That is my preparation; I neverpractise my own compositions. " What Gutmann told me confirmsthese statements. Chopin detested playing in public, and becamenervous when the dreaded time approached. He then fidgeted agreat deal about his clothes, and felt very unhappy if one or theother article did not quite fit or pinched him a little. On oneoccasion Chopin, being dissatisfied with his own things, made useof a dress-coat and shirt of his pupil Gutmann. By the way, thelatter, who gave me this piece of information, must have been inthose days of less bulk, and, I feel inclined to add, of lessheight, than he was when I became acquainted with him. 

Leaving the two concerts given by Chopin in 1841 and 1842 to bediscussed in detail in the next chapter, I shall now give atranslation of the Polish letters which he wrote in the summerand autumn of 1841 to Fontana. The letters numbered 4 and 5 arethose already alluded to on p. 24 (foot-note 3) which Karasowskigives as respectively dated by Chopin: "Palma, November 17, 1838"; and "Valdemosa, January 9, 1839. " But against these datesmilitate the contents: the mention of Troupenas, with whom thecomposer's business connection began only in 1840 (with theSonata, Op. 35); the mention of the Tarantelle, which was notpublished until 1841; the mention (contradictory to an earlierinquiry--see p. 30) of the sending back of a valet nowhere elsealluded to; the mention of the sending and arrival of a piano, irreconcilable with the circumstances and certain statements inindisputably correctly-dated letters; and, lastly, the absence ofall mention of Majorca and the Preludes, those important topicsin the letters really from that place and of that time. Karasowski thinks that the letters numbered 1, 2, 3, and 9 wereof the year 1838, and those numbered 6, 7, and 8 of the year1839; but as the "Tarantelle, " Op. 43, the "Polonaise, " Op. 44, the "Prelude, " Op. 45, the "Allegro de Concert, " Op. 46, thethird "Ballade, " Op. 47, the two "Nocturnes, " Op. 48, and the"Fantaisie, " Op. 49, therein mentioned, were published in 1841, Ihave no doubt that they are of the year 1841. The mention in theninth letter of the Rue Pigalle, 16, George Sand's and Chopin'sabode in Paris, of Pelletan, the tutor of George Sand's sonMaurice, and of the latter's coming to Paris, speaks likewiseagainst 1838 and for 1841, 1840 being out of the question, asneither George Sand nor Chopin was in this year at Nohant. Whatdecides me especially to reject the date 1839 for the seventhletter is that Pauline Garcia had then not yet become the wife ofLouis Viardot. There is, moreover, an allusion to a visit ofPauline Viardot to Nohant in the summer of 1841 in one of GeorgeSand's letters (August 13, 1841). In this letter occurs a passagewhich is important for the dating both of the fifth and theseventh letter. As to the order of succession of the letters, itmay be wrong, it certainly does not altogether satisfy me; but itis the result of long and careful weighing of all the pros andcons. I have some doubt about the seventh letter, which, read bythe light of George Sand's letter, ought perhaps to be placedafter the ninth. But the seventh letter is somewhat of a puzzle. Puzzles, owing to his confused statements and slipshod style, are, however, not a rare thing in Chopin's correspondence. Thepassage in the above-mentioned letter of George Sand runs thus:"Pauline leaves me on the 16th [of August]; Maurice goes on the17th to fetch his sister, who should be here on the 23rd. "

 [I. ] Nohant [1841]. 

 My very dear friend, --I arrived here yesterday, Thursday. For Schlesinger [FOOTNOTE: The Paris music-publisher. ] I have composed a Prelude in C sharp minor [Op. 45], which is short, as he wished it. Seeing that, like Mechetti's [FOOTNOTE: The Vienna music-publisher. ] Beethoven, this has to come out at the New Year, do not yet give my Polonaise to Leo (although you have already transcribed it), for to-morrow I shall send you a letter for Mechetti, in which I shall explain to him that, if he wishes something short, I will give him for the Album instead of the mazurka (which is already old) the NEW prelude. It is well modulated, and I can send it without hesitation. He ought to give me 300 francs for it, n'est-ce pas? Par-dessus le marche he may get the mazurka, only he must not print it in the Album. 

 Should Troupenas, [FOOTNOTE: Eugene Troupenas, the Paris music- publisher. ] that is, Masset, [FOOTNOTE: Masset (his daughter, Madame Colombier, informed me) was the partner of Troupenas, and managed almost the whole business, Troupenas being in weak health, which obliged him to pass the last ten winters of his life at Hyeres. ] make any difficulties, do not give him the pieces a farthing cheaper, and tell him that if he does not wish to print them all--which I should not like--I could sell them at a better price to others. 

 Now of something else. 

 You will find in the right-hand drawer of my writing-desk (in the place where the cash-box always is) a sealed parcel addressed to Madame Sand. Wrap this parcel in wax-cloth, seal it, and send it by post to Madame Sand's address. Sew on the address with a strong thread, that it may not come off the wax- cloth. It is Madame Sand who asks me to do this. I know you will do it perfectly well. The key, I think, is on the top shelf of the little cabinet with the mirror. If it should not be there, get a locksmith to open the drawer. 

 I love you as an old friend. Embrace Johnnie. --Your

 FREDERICK. 

 [2. ] Nohant [1841]. 

 Thanks for forwarding the parcel. I send you the Prelude, in large characters for Schlesinger and in small characters for Mechetti. Clip the MS. Of the Polonaise to the same size, number the pages, and fold it like the Prelude, add to the whole my letter to Mechetti, and deliver it into Leo's own hands, praying him to send it by the first mail, as Mechetti is waiting for it. 

 The letter to Haslinger [FOOTNOTE: The Vienna music- publisher. ] post yourself; and if you do not find Schlesinger at home leave the letter, but do not give him the MS. Until he tells you that he accepts the Prelude as a settlement of the account. If he does not wish to acquire the right of publication for London, tell him to inform me of it by letter. Do not forget to add the opus on the Polonaise and the following number on the Prelude--that is, on the copies that are going to Vienna. 

 I do not know how Czerniszewowa is spelt. Perhaps you will find under the vase or on the little table near the bronze ornament a note from her, from her daughter, or from the governess; if not, I should be glad if you would go--they know you already as my friend--to the Hotel de Londres in the Place Vendome, and beg in my name the young Princess to give you her name in writing and to say whether it is Tscher or Tcher. Or better still, ask for Mdlle. Krause, the governess; tell her that I wish to give the young Princess a surprise; and inquire of her whether it is usual to write Elisabeth and Tschernichef, or ff. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin dedicated the Prelude, Op. 45, to Mdlle. La Princesse Elisabeth Czernicheff. ]

 If you do not wish to do this, don't be bashful with me, and write that you would rather be excused, in which case I shall find it out by some other means. But do not yet direct Schlesinger to print the title. Tell him I don't know how to spell. Nevertheless, I hope that you will find at my house some note from them on which will be the name. .. . 

 I conclude because it is time for the mail, and I wish that my letter should reach Vienna without fail this week. 

 [3. ] Nohant, Sunday [1841]. 

 I send you the Tarantella [Op. 43]. Please to copy it. But first go to Schlesinger, or, better still, to Troupenas, and see the collection of Rossini's songs published by Troupenas. In it there is a Tarantella in F. I do not know whether it is written in 6/8 or 12/8 time. As to my composition, it does not matter which way it is written, but I should prefer it to be like Rossini's. Therefore, if the latter be in 12/8 or in C with triplets, make in copying one bar out of two. It will be thus: [here follows one bar of music, bars four and five of the Tarantella as it is printed. ] [FOOTNOTE: This is a characteristic instance of Chopin's carelessness in the notation of his music. To write his Tarantella in 12/8 or C would have been an egregious mistake. How Chopin failed to see this is inexplicable to me. ]

 I beg of you also to write out everything in full, instead of marking repeats. Be quick, and give it to Leo with my letter to Schubert. [FOOTNOTE: Schuberth, the Hamburg music- publisher. ] You know he leaves for Hamburg before the 8th of next month, and I should not like to lose 500 francs. 

 As regards Troupenas, there is no hurry. If the time of my manuscript is not right, do not deliver the latter, but make a copy of it. Besides this, make a third copy of it for Wessel. It will weary you to copy this nasty thing so often; but I hope I shall not compose anything worse for a long time. I also beg of you to look up the number of the last opus-- namely, the last mazurkas, or rather the waltz published by Paccini [FOOTNOTE: Pacini, a Paris music-publisher. He published the Waltz in A flat major, Op. 42, in the summer of 1840, if not earlier. ]--and give the following number to the Tarantella. 

 I am keeping my mind easy, for I know you are willing and clever. I trust you will receive from me no more letters burdened with commissions. Had I not been with only one foot at home before my departure you would have none of these unpleasantnesses. Attend to the Tarantella, give it to Leo, and tell him to keep the money he may receive till I come back. Once more I beg of you to excuse my troubling you so much. To-day I received the letter from my people in Poland you sent me. Tell the portier to give you all the letters addressed to me. 

 [4. ]

 My dear friend, --As you are so good, be so to the end. Go to the transport commission-office of Mr. Hamberg et Levistal successeurs de Mr. Corstel fils aine et Cie, rue des Marais St. Martin, No. 51, a Paris, and direct them to send at once to Pleyel for the piano I am to have, so that it may go off the next day. Say at the office that it is to be forwarded par un envoy [sic] accelere et non ordinaire. Such a transport costs of course far more, but is incomparably quicker. It will probably cost five francs per cwt. I shall pay here. Only direct them to give you a receipt, on which they will write how many cwts. The piano weighs, when it leaves, and when it will arrive at Chateauroux. If the piano is conveyed by roulage [land-transport]--which goes straight to Toulouse and leaves goods only on the route--the address must not be a la Chatre, [FOOTNOTE: Instead of "la Chatre" we have in Karasowski's Polish book "la Chatie, " which ought to warn us not to attribute all the peculiar French in this letter to Chopin, who surely knew how to spell the name of the town in the neighbourhood of the familiar Nohant. ] but Madame Dudevant, a Chateauroux, as I wrote above. [FOOTNOTE: "Address of the piano: Madame Dudevant, a Chateauroux. Bureau Restant chez M. Vollant Patureau. " This is what Chopin wrote above. ] At the last-mentioned place the agency has been informed, and will forward it at once. You need not send me the receipt, we should require it only in case of some unforeseen reclamation. The correspondent in Chateauroux says that PAR LA VOYE ACCELERE [SIC] it will come from Paris in four days. If this is so, let him bind himself to deliver the piano at Chateauroux in four or five days. 

 Now to other business. 

 Should Pleyel make any difficulties, apply to Erard; I think that the latter in all probability ought to be serviceable to you. Only do not act hastily, and first ascertain how the matter really stands. 

 As to the Tarantella, seal it and send it to Hamburg. To- morrow I shall write you of other affairs, concerning Troupenas, &c. 

 Embrace Johnnie, and tell him to write. 

 [5. ]

 Thanks for all the commissions you have executed so well. To- day, that is on the 9th, I received the piano and the other things. Do not send my little bust to Warsaw, it would frighten them, leave it in the press. Kiss Johnnie for his letter. I shall write him a few lines shortly. 

 To-morrow I shall very likely send back my old servant, who loses his wits here. He is an honest man and knows how to serve, but he is tiresome, and makes one lose one's patience. I shall send him back, telling him to wait for me in Paris. If he appears at the house, do not be frightened. 

 Latterly the weather has been only so-so. 

 The man in Chateauroux was waiting three days for the piano; yesterday, after receiving your letter, I gave orders that he should be recalled. To-day I do not yet know what kind of tone the piano has, as it is not yet unpacked; this great event is to take place to-morrow. As to the delay and misunderstanding in sending it, do not make any inquiries; let the matter rest, it is not worth a quarrel. You did the best you could. A little ill-humour and a few days lost in expectation are not worth a pinch of snuff. Forget, therefore, my commissions and your transaction; next time, if God permits us to live, matters will turn out better. 

 I write you these few words late at night. Once more I thank you, most obliging of men, for the commissions, which are not yet ended, for now comes the turn of the Troupenas business, which will hang on your shoulders. I shall write to you on this subject more fully some other time, and to-day I wish you good night. But don't have dreams like Johnnie--that I died; but rather dream that I am about to be born, or something of the sort. 

 In fact, I am feeling now as calm and serene as a baby in swaddling-clothes; and if somebody wished to put me in leading- strings, I should be very glad--nota bene, with a cap thickly lined with wadding on my head, for I feel that at every moment I should stumble and turn upside down. Unfortunately, instead of leading-strings there are probably awaiting me crutches, if I approach old age with my present step. I once dreamt that I was dying in a hospital, and this is so strongly rooted in my mind that I cannot forget it--it is as if I had dreamt it yesterday. If you survive me, you will learn whether we may believe in dreams. 

 And now I often dream with my eyes open what may be said to have neither rhyme nor reason in it. 

 That is why I write you such a foolish letter, is it?

 Send me soon a letter from my people, and love your old

 FREDERICK. 

 [6. ] Nohant [1841]. 

 Thanks for your very kind letter. Unseal all you judge necessary. 

 Do not give the manuscripts to Troupenas till Schubert has informed you of the day of publication. The answer will very likely come soon through Leo. 

 What a pity that the Tarantella is gone to Berlin, for, as you know from Schubert's letter, Liszt is mixed up in this monetary affair, and I may have some unpleasantness. He is a thin-skinned Hungarian, and may think that I do not trust him because I directed that the manuscripts should not be given otherwise than for cash. I do not know, but I have a presentiment of a disagreeable mess. Do not say anything about it to the ailing Leo; go and see him if you think it necessary, give him my compliments and thanks (although undeserved), and ask pardon for troubling him so much. After all, it is kind of him to take upon him the forwarding of my things. Give my compliments, also to Pleyel, and ask him to excuse my not writing to him (do not say anything about his sending me a very inferior piano). 

 I beg of you to put into the letter-box at the Exchange yourself the letter to my parents, but I say do it yourself, and before 4 o'clock. Excuse my troubling you, but you know of what great importance my letter is to my people. 

 Escudier has very likely sent you that famous album. If you wish you may ask Troupenas to get you a copy as if it were for me; but if you don't wish, say nothing. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Leon Escudier, I suppose. The brothers Marie and Leon Escudier established a music business in the latter part of the fourth decade of this century; but when soon after both married and divided their common property, Marie got their journal "La France Musicale" and Leon the music-business. They wrote and published together various books on music and musicians. ]

 Still one more bother. 

 At your leisure transcribe once more this unlucky Tarantella, which will be sent to Wessel when the day [of publication] is known. If I tire you so much with this Tarentella, you may be sure that it is for the last time. From here, I am sure you will have no more manuscript from me. If there should not be any news from Schubert within a week, please write to me. In that case you would give the manuscript to Troupenas. But I shall write him about it. 

 [7. ] Nohant [1841], Friday evening. 

 My dear Julius, --I send you a letter for Bonnet; read, seal, and deliver it. And if in passing through the streets in which you know I can lodge, you find something suitable for me, please write to me. Just now the condition about the staircase exists no longer. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin felt so much stronger that high stairs were no longer any objection to lodgings. ] I also send you a letter to Dessauer [FOOTNOTE: Joseph Dessauer, a native of Prague, best known by his songs. He stayed in Paris in 1833, and afterwards settled in Vienna. George Sand numbered him among her friends. ] in answer to his letter which Madame Deller sent me from Austria. He must already be back to Paris; be sure and ask Schlesinger, who will be best able to inform you of this. 

 Do not give Dessauer many particulars about me; do not tell him that you are looking for rooms, nor Anthony either, for he will mention it to Mdlle. De Rozieres, and she is a babbler and makes the least thing a subject for gossip. Some of her gossipings have already reached me here in a strange way. You know how great things sometimes grow out of nothing if they pass through a mouth with a loose tongue. Much could be said on this head. 

 As to the unlucky Tarantella, you may give it to Troupenas (that is, to Masset); but, if you think otherwise, send it by post to Wessel, only insist on his answering at once that he has received it. The weather has been charming here for the last few days, but my music--is ugly. Madame Viardot spent a fortnight here; we occupied ourselves less with music than with other things. 

 Please write to me whatever you like, but write. 

 May Johnnie be in good health!

 But remember to write on Troupenas's copy: Hamburg, Schubert; Wessel, London. 

 In a few days I shall send you a letter for Mechetti in Vienna, to whom I promised to give some compositions. If you see Dessauer or Schlesinger, ask if it is absolutely necessary to pay postage for the letters sent to Vienna. --I embrace you, adieu. 

 CHOPIN. 

 [8. ]

 Nohant, Sunday [1841]. 

 What you have done you have done well. Strange world! Masset is a fool, so also is Pelletan. Masset knew of Pacini's waltz and that I promised it to the "Gazette" for the Album. I did not wish to make any advances to him. If he does not wish them at 600 francs, with London (the price of my USUAL manuscripts was 300 francs with him)--three times five being fifteen--I should have to give so much labour for 1, 500 francs--that cannot be. So much the more as I told him when I had the first conversation with him that it might happen that I could not let him have my things at this price. For instance, he cannot expect that I should give him twelve Etudes or a new Methode de Piano for 300 francs. The Allegro maestoso ["Allegro de Concert, " Op. 46] which I send you to-day I cannot give for 300 francs, but only for 600 francs, nor the "Fantasia" [Op. 49], for which I ask 500 francs. Nevertheless, the "Ballade" [the third, Op. 47], the Nocturnes ["Deux Nocturnes, " Op. 48], and Polonaise [F sharp minor, Op. 44], I shall let him have at 300 francs, for he has already formerly printed such things. In one word, for Paris I give these five compositions for 2, 000 francs. If he does not care for them, so much the better. I say it entre nous--for Schlesinger will most willingly buy them. But I should not like him to take me for a man who does not keep his word in an agreement. "Il n'y avait qu'une convention facile d'honnete homme a honnete homme. " therefore, he should not complain of my terms, for they are very easy. I want nothing but to come out of this affair respectably. You know that I do not sell myself. But tell him further that if I were desirous of taking advantage of him or of cheating him, I could write fifteen things per year, but worthless ones, which he would buy at 300 francs and I would have a better income. Would it be an honest action?

 My dear friend, tell him that I write seldom, and spend but little. He must not think that I wish to raise the price. But when you yourself see my manuscript flies, [FOOTNOTE: An allusion to his small, fine writing. ] you will agree with me that I may ask 600 francs when I was paid 300 francs for the Tarantella and 500 for the Bolero. 

 For God's sake take good care of the manuscripts, do not squeeze, dirty, or tear them. I know you are not capable of doing anything of the sort, but I love my WRITTEN TEDIOUSNESS [NUDY, tediousness; NUTY, notes] so much that I always fear that something might happen to them. 

 To-morrow you will receive the Nocturne, and at the end of the week the Ballade and Fantasia; I cannot get my writing done sooner. Each of these things you will transcribe; your copies will remain in Paris. If copying wearies you, console yourself with thinking that you are doing it for THE REMISSION OF YOUR SINS. I should not like to give my little spider-feet to any copyist who would daub coarsely. Once more I make this request, for had I again to write these eighteen pages, I should most certainly go wrong in my mind. 

 I send you a letter from Hartel. 

 Try to get another valet instead of the one you have. I shall probably be in Paris during the first days of November. To- morrow I will write to you again. 

 Mondaymorning. 

 On reading your letter attentively, I see that Masset does not ask for Paris. Leave this point untouched if you can. Mention only 3, 000 francs pour les deux pays, and 2, 000 francs for Paris itself if he particularly asks about it. Because la condition des deux pays is still easier, and for me also more convenient. If he should not want it, it must be because he seeks an opportunity for breaking with me. In that case, wait for his answer from London. Write to him openly and frankly, but always politely, and act cautiously and coolly, but mind, not to me, for you know how much loves you your. .. 

 [9. ] Nohant [1841]. 

 My dear friend, --You would be sure to receive my letters and compositions. You have read the German letters, sealed them, and done everything I asked you, have you not? As to Wessel, he is a fool and a cheat. Write him whatever you like, but tell him that I do not intend to give up my rights to the Tarantella, as he did not send it back in time. If he sustained losses by my compositions, it is most likely owing to the foolish titles he gave them, in spite of my directions. Were I to listen to the voice of my soul, I would not send him anything more after these titles. Say as many sharp things to him as you can. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Here are some specimens of the publisher's ingenious inventiveness:--"Adieu a Varsovie" (Rondeau, Op. 1), "Hommage a Mozart" (Variations, Op. 2), "La Gaite" (Introduction et Polonaise, Op. 3), "La Posiana" (Rondeau a la Mazur, Op. 5), "Murmures de la Seine" (Nocturnes, Op. 9), "Les Zephirs" (Nocturnes, Op. 15), "Invitation a la Valse" (Valse, Op. 18), "Souvenir d'Andalousie" (Bolero, Op. 19), "Le banquet infernal" (Premier Scherzo, Op. 20), "Ballade ohne Worte" [Ballad without words] (Ballade, Op. 23), "Les Plaintives" (Nocturnes, Op. 27), "La Meditation" (Deuxieme Scherzo, Op. 31), "Il lamento e la consolazione" (Nocturnes, Op. 32), "Les Soupirs" (Nocturnes, Op. 37), and "Les Favorites" (Polonaises, Op. 40). The mazurkas generally received the title of "Souvenir de la Pologne. "]

 Madame Sand thanks you for the kind words accompanying the parcel. Give directions that my letters may be delivered to Pelletan, Rue Pigal [i. E. , Pigalle], 16, and impress it very strongly on the portier. The son of Madame Sand will be in Paris about the 16th. I shall send you, through him, the MS. Of the Concerto ["Allegro de Concert"] and the Nocturnes [Op. 46 and 48]. 

These letters of the romantic tone-poet to a friend and fellow-artist will probably take the reader by surprise, nay, may evendisillusionise him. Their matter is indeed very suggestive of acommercial man writing to one of his agents. Nor is this feature, as the sequel will show, peculiar to the letters just quoted. Trafficking takes up a very large part of Chopin's Parisiancorrespondence; [FOOTNOTE: I indicate by this phrasecomprehensively the whole correspondence since his settling inthe French capital, whether written there or elsewhere. ] of theideal within him that made him what he was as an artist we catch, if any, only rare glimmerings and glimpses. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

TWO PUBLIC CONCERTS, ONE IN 1841 AND ANOTHER IN 1842. --CHOPIN'SSTYLE OF PLAYING: TECHNICAL QUALITIES; FAVOURABLE PHYSICALCONDITIONS; VOLUME OF TONE; USE OF THE PEDALS; SPIRITUALQUALITIES; TEMPO RUBATO; INSTRUMENTS. --HIS MUSICAL SYMPATHIES ANDANTIPATHIES. --OPINIONS ON MUSIC AND MUSICIANS. 

The concert which Chopin gave in 1841, after several years ofretirement, took place at Pleyel's rooms on Monday, the 26th ofApril. It was like his subsequent concerts a semi-public ratherthan a public one, for the audience consisted of a select circleof pupils, friends, and partisans who, as Chopin told Lenz, tookthe tickets in advance and divided them among themselves. As mostof the pupils belonged to the aristocracy, it followed as amatter of course that the concert was emphatically what Lisztcalls it, "un concert de fashion. " The three chief musical papersof Paris: the "Gazette Musicale, " the "France Musicale, " and the"Menestrel" were unanimous in their high, unqualified praise ofthe concert-giver, "the king of the fete, who was overwhelmedwith bravos. " The pianoforte performances of Chopin took up byfar the greater part of the programme, which was varied by twoarias from Adam's "La Rose de Peronne, " sung by Mdme. Damoreau--Cinti, who was as usual "ravissante de perfection, " and byErnst's "Elegie, " played by the composer himself "in a grandstyle, with passionate feeling and a purity worthy of the greatmasters. " Escudier, the writer of the notice in the "FranceMusicale, " says of Ernst's playing: "If you wish to hear theviolin weep, go and hear Ernst; he produces such heart-rending, such passionate sounds, that you fear every moment to see hisinstrument break to pieces in his hands. It is difficult to carryfarther the expression of sadness, of suffering, and of despair. "

To give the reader an idea of the character of the concert, Ishall quote largely from Liszt's notice, in which he not onlysets forth the merits of the artists, but also describes theappearance of the room and the audience. First, however, I musttell a pretty anecdote of which this notice reminds me. WhenLiszt was moving about among the audience during the intervals ofthe concert, paying his respects here and there, he came upon M. Ernest Legouve. The latter told him of his intention to give anaccount of the concert in the "Gazette Musicale. " Liszt thereuponsaid that he had a great wish to write one himself, and M. Legouve, although reluctantly, gave way. When it came to the earsof Chopin that Liszt was going to report on the concert, heremarked: "Il me donnera un petit royaume dans son empire" (Hewill give me a little kingdom in his empire). 

[FOOTNOTE: Since I wrote the above, M. Legouve has published his"Soixante ans de Souvenirs, " and in this book gives his versionof the story, which, it is to be hoped, is less. Incorrect thansome other statements of his relating to Chopin: "He [Chopin] hadasked me to write a report of the concert. Liszt claimed thehonour. I hastened to announce this good news to Chopin, whoquietly said to me: "I should have liked better if it had beenyou. " "What are you thinking of my dear friend! An article byLiszt, that is a fortunate thing for the public and for you. Trust in his admiration for your talent. I promise you qu'il vousfera un beau royaume. '--'Oui, me dit-il en souriant, dans sonempire!'"]

These few words speak volumes. But here is what Liszt wrote aboutthe concert in the "Gazette musicale" of May 2, 1841:--

 Last Monday, at eight o'clock in the evening, M. Pleyel's rooms were brilliantly lighted up; numerous carriages brought incessantly to the foot of a staircase covered with carpet and perfumed with flowers the most elegant women, the most fashionable young men, the most celebrated artists, the richest financiers, the most illustrious noblemen, a whole elite of society, a whole aristocracy of birth, fortune, talent, and beauty. 

 A grand piano was open on a platform; people crowded round, eager for the seats nearest it; they prepared to listen, they composed them-selves, they said to themselves that they must not lose a chord, a note, an intention, a thought of him who was going to seat himself there. And people were right in being thus eager, attentive, and religiously moved, because he for whom they waited, whom they wished to hear, admire, and applaud, was not only a clever virtuoso, a pianist expert in the art of making notes [de faire des notes], not only an artist of great renown, he was all this and more than all this, he was Chopin. .. 

 . .. If less eclat has gathered round his name, if a less bright aureole has encircled his head, it is not because he had not in him perhaps the same depth of feeling as the illustrious author of "Conrad Wallenrod" and the "Pilgrims, " [FOOTNOTE: Adam Mickiewicz. ] but his means of expression were too limited, his instrument too imperfect; he could not reveal his whole self by means of a piano. Hence, if we are not mistaken, a dull and continual suffering, a certain repugnance to reveal himself to the outer world, a sadness which shrinks out of sight under apparent gaiety, in short, a whole individuality in the highest degree remarkable and attractive. 

 . .. It was only rarely, at very distant intervals, that Chopin played in public; but what would have been for anyone else an almost certain cause of oblivion and obscurity was precisely what assured to him a fame above the caprices of fashion, and kept him from rivalries, jealousies, and injustice. Chopin, who has taken no part in the extreme movement which for several years has thrust one on another and one against another the executive artists from all quarters of the world, has been constantly surrounded by faithful adepts, enthusiastic pupils, and warm friends, all of whom, while guarding him against disagreeable contests and painful collisions, have not ceased to spread abroad his works, and with them admiration for his name. Moreover, this exquisite, altogether lofty, and eminently aristocratic celebrity has remained unattacked. A complete silence of criticism already reigns round it, as if posterity were come; and in the brilliant audience which flocked together to hear the too long silent poet there was neither reticence nor restriction, unanimous praise was on the lips of all. 

 . .. He has known how to give to new thoughts a new form. That element of wildness and abruptness which belongs to his country has found its expression in bold dissonances, in strange harmonies, while the delicacy and grace which belong to his personality were revealed in a thousand contours, in a thousand embellishments of an inimitable fancy. 

 In Monday's concert Chopin had chosen in preference those of his works which swerve more from the classical forms. He played neither concerto, nor sonata, nor fantasia, nor variations, but preludes, studies, nocturnes, and mazurkas. Addressing himself to a society rather than to a public, he could show himself with impunity as he is, an elegiac poet, profound, chaste, and dreamy. He did not need either to astonish or to overwhelm, he sought for delicate sympathy rather than for noisy enthusiasm. Let us say at once that he had no reason to complain of want of sympathy. From the first chords there was established a close communication between him and his audience. Two studies and a ballade were encored, and had it not been for the fear of adding to the already great fatigue which betrayed itself on his pale face, people would have asked for a repetition of the pieces of the programme one by one. .. 

An account of the concert in La France musicale of May 2, 1841, contained a general characterisation of Chopin's artisticposition with regard to the public coinciding with that given byLiszt, but the following excerpts from the other parts of thearticle may not be unacceptable to the reader:--

 We spoke of Schubert because there is no other nature which has a more complete analogy with him. The one has done for the piano what the other has done for the voice. .. Chopin was a composer from conviction. He composes for himself, and what he composes he performs for himself. .. Chopin is the pianist of sentiment PAR EXCELLENCE. One may say that Chopin is the creator of a school of pianoforte-playing and of a school of composition. Indeed, nothing equals the lightness and sweetness with which the artist preludes on the piano, nothing again can be placed by the side of his works full of originality, distinction, and grace. Chopin is an exceptional pianist who ought not to be, and cannot be, compared with anyone. 

The words with which the critic of the Menestrel closes hisremarks, describe well the nature of the emotions which theartist excited in his hearers:--

 In order to appreciate Chopin rightly, one must love gentle impressions, and have the feeling for poetry: to hear Chopin is to read a strophe of Lamartine. .. . Everyone went away full of sweet joy and deep reverie (recueillement). 

The concert, which was beyond a doubt a complete success, musthave given Chopin satisfaction in every respect. At any rate, hefaced the public again before a year had gone by. In the GazetteMusicale of February 20, 1842, we read that on the followingevening, Monday, at Pleyel's rooms, the haute societe de Paris ettous les artistes s'y donneront rendez-vous. The programme of theconcert was to be as follows:--

 1. Andante suivi de la 3ieme Ballade, par Chopin. 

 2. Felice Donzella, air de Dessauer. 

 3. Suite de Nocturnes, Preludes et Etudes, par Chopin. 

 4. Divers fragments de Handel, chante par Madame Viardot- Garcia. 

 5. Solo pour Violoncello, par M. Franchomme. 

 6. Nocturne, Preludes, Mazurkas et Impromptu. 

 7. Le Chene et le Roseau, chante par Madame Viardot-Garcia, accompagne par Chopin. 

Maurice Bourges, who a week later reports on the concert, statesmore particularly what Chopin played. He mentions three mazurkasin A flat major, B major, and A minor; three studies in A flatmajor, F minor, and C minor; the Ballade in A flat major; fournocturnes, one of which was that in F sharp minor; a prelude in Dflat; and an impromptu in G (G flat major?). Maurice Bourges'saccount is not altogether free from strictures. He finds Chopin'sornamentations always novel, but sometimes mannered (manierees). He says: "Trop de recherche fine et minutieuse n'est pasquelquefois sans pretention et san froideur. " But on the wholethe critique is very laudatory. "Liszt and Thalberg excite, as iswell known, violent enthusiasm; Chopin also awakens enthusiasm, but of a less energetic, less noisy nature, precisely because hecauses the most intimate chords of the heart to vibrate. "

From the report in the "France musicale" we see that the audiencewas not less brilliant than that of the first concert:--

 . .. Chopin has given in Pleyel's hall a charming soiree, a fete peopled with adorable smiles, delicate and rosy faces, small and well-formed white hands; a splendid fete where simplicity was combined with grace and elegance, and where good taste served as a pedestal to wealth. Those ugly black hats which give to men the most unsightly appearance possible were very few in number. The gilded ribbons, the delicate blue gauze, the chaplets of trembling pearls, the freshest roses and mignonettes, in short, a thousand medleys of the prettiest and gayest colours were assembled, and intersected each other in all sorts of ways on the perfumed heads and snowy shoulders of the most charming women for whom the princely salons contend. The first success of the seance was for Madame George Sand. As soon as she appeared with her two charming daughters [daughter and cousin?], she was the observed of all observers. Others would have been disturbed by all those eyes turned on her like so many stars; but George Sand contented herself with lowering her head and smiling. .. 

This description is so graphic that one seems to see the actualscene, and imagines one's self one of the audience. It alsopoints out a very characteristic feature of these concerts--namely, the preponderance of the fair sex. As regards Chopin'splaying, the writer remarks that the genre of execution whichaims at the imitation of orchestral effects suits neitherChopin's organisation nor his ideas:--

 In listening to all these sounds, all these nuances, which follow each other, intermingle, separate, and reunite to arrive at one and the same goal, melody, do you not think you hear little fairy voices sighing under silver bells, or a rain of pearls falling on crystal tables? The fingers of the pianist seem to multiply ad infinitum; it does not appear possible that only two hands can produce effects of rapidity so precise and so natural. .. 

I shall now try to give the reader a clearer idea of whatChopin's style of playing was like than any and all of thecriticisms and descriptions I have hitherto quoted can have done. And I do this not only in order to satisfy a natural curiosity, but also, and more especially, to furnish a guide for the betterunderstanding and execution of the master's works. Some, seeingthat no music reflects more clearly its author's nature than thatof Chopin, may think that it would be wiser to illustrate thestyle of playing by the style of composition, and not the styleof composition by the style of playing. Two reasons determine meto differ from them. Our musical notation is an inadequateexponent of the conceptions of the great masters--visible signscannot express the subtle shades of the emotional language; andthe capabilities of Chopin the composer and of Chopin theexecutant were by no means coextensive--we cannot drawconclusions as to the character of his playing from the characterof his Polonaises in A major (Op. 40) and in A flat (Op. 53), andcertain movements of the Sonata in B flat minor (Op. 35). Theinformation contained in the following remarks is derived partlyfrom printed publications, partly from private letters andconversations; nothing is admitted which does not proceed fromChopin's pupils, friends, and such persons as have frequentlyheard him. 

What struck everyone who had the good fortune to hear Chopin wasthe fact that he was a pianist sui generis. Moscheles calls himan unicum; Mendelssohn describes him as "radically original"(Gruneigentumlich); Meyerbeer said of him that he knew nopianist, no composer for the piano, like him; and thus I could goon quoting ad infinitum. A writer in the "Gazette musicale" (ofthe year 1835, I think), who, although he places at the head ofhis article side by side the names of Liszt, Hiller, Chopin, and--Bertini, proved himself in the characterisation of thesepianists a man of some insight, remarks of Chopin: "Thought, style, conception, even the fingering, everything, in fact, appears individual, but of a communicative, expansiveindividuality, an individuality of which superficialorganisations alone fail to recognise the magnetic influence. "Chopin's place among the great pianists of the second quarter ofthis century has been felicitously characterised by an anonymouscontemporary: Thalberg, he said, is a king, Liszt a prophet, Chopin a poet, Herz an advocate, Kalkbrenner a minstrel, MadamePleyel a sibyl, and Doehler a pianist. 

But if our investigation is to be profitable, we must proceedanalytically. It will be best to begin with the fundamentaltechnical qualities. First of all, then, we have to note thesuppleness and equality of Chopin's fingers and the perfectindependence of his hands. "The evenness of his scales andpassages in all kinds of touch, " writes Mikuli, "was unsurpassed, nay, prodigious. " Gutmann told me that his master's playing wasparticularly smooth, and his fingering calculated to attain thisresult. A great lady who was present at Chopin's last concert inParis (1848), when he played among other works his Valse in Dflat (Op. 64, No. 1), wished to know "le secret de Chopin pourque les gammes fussent si COULEES sur le piano. " Madame Dubois, who related this incident to me, added that the expression wasfelicitous, for this "limpidite delicate" had never beenequalled. Such indeed were the lightness, delicacy, neatness, elegance, and gracefulness of Chopin's playing that they won forhim the name of Ariel of the piano. The reader will remember howmuch Chopin admired these qualities in other artists, notably inMdlle. Sontag and in Kalkbrenner. 

So high a degree and so peculiar a kind of excellence was ofcourse attainable only under exceptionally favourable conditions, physical as well as mental. The first and chief condition was asuitably formed hand. Now, no one can look at Chopin's hand, ofwhich there exists a cast, without perceiving at once itscapabilities. It was indeed small, but at the same time it wasthin, light, delicately articulated, and, if I may say so, highlyexpressive. Chopin's whole body was extraordinarily flexible. According to Gutmann, he could, like a clown, throw his legs overhis shoulders. After this we may easily imagine how great musthave been the flexibility of his hands, those members of his bodywhich he had specially trained all his life. Indeed, thestartlingly wide-spread chords, arpeggios, &c. , which constantlyoccur in his compositions, and which until he introduced them hadbeen undreamt-of and still are far from being common, seemed tooffer him no difficulty, for he executed them not only withoutany visible effort, but even with a pleasing ease and freedom. Stephen Heller told me that it was a wonderful sight to see oneof those small hands expand and cover a third of the keyboard. Itwas like the opening of the mouth of a serpent which is going toswallow a rabbit whole. In fact, Chopin appeared to be made ofcaoutchouc. 

In the criticisms on Chopin's public performances we have metagain and again with the statement that he brought little toneout of the piano. Now, although it is no doubt true that Chopincould neither subdue to his sway large audiences nor successfullybattle with a full orchestra, it would be a mistake to infer fromthis that he was always a weak and languid player. StephenHeller, who declared that Chopin's tone was rich, rememberedhearing him play a duet with Moscheles (the latter's duet, ofwhich Chopin was so fond), and on this occasion the Polishpianist, who insisted on playing the bass, drowned the treble ofhis partner, a virtuoso well known for his vigour and brilliancy. Were we, however, to form our judgment on this single item ofevidence, we should again arrive at a wrong conclusion. Wheremusical matters--i. E. , matters generally estimated according toindividual taste and momentary impressibility alone--areconcerned, there is safety only in the multitude of witnesses. Let us, therefore, hear first what Chopin's pupils have got tosay on this point, and then go and inquire further. Gutmann saidthat Chopin played generally very quietly, and rarely, indeedhardly ever, fortissimo. The A flat major Polonaise (Op. 53), forinstance, he could not thunder forth in the way we are accustomedto hear it. As for the famous octave passages which occur in it, he began them pianissimo and continued thus without much increasein loudness. And, then, Chopin never thumped. M. Mathias remarksthat his master had extraordinary vigour, but only in flashes. Mikuli's preface to his edition of the works of Chopin affordsmore explicit information. We read there:--

 The tone which Chopin brought out of the instrument was always, especially in the cantabiles, immense (riesengross), only Field could perhaps in this respect be compared to him. A manly energy gave to appropriate passages overpowering effect-- energy without roughness (Rohheit); but, on the other hand, he knew how by delicacy--delicacy without affectation--to captivate the hearer. 

We may summarise these various depositions by saying with Lenzthat, being deficient in physical strength, Chopin put his all inthe cantabile style, in the connections and combinations, in thedetail. But two things are evident, and they ought to be noted:(1) The volume of tone, of pure tone, which Chopin was capable ofproducing was by no means inconsiderable; (2) he had learnt theart of economising his means so as to cover his shortcomings. This last statement is confirmed by some remarks of Moscheleswhich have already been quoted--namely, that Chopin's piano wasbreathed forth so softly that he required no vigorous forte toproduce the desired contrasts; and that one did not miss theorchestral effects which the German school demanded from apianist, but allowed one's self to be carried away as by a singerwho takes little heed of the accompaniment and follows his ownfeelings. 

In listening to accounts of Chopin's style of playing, we mustnot leave out of consideration the time to which they refer. Whatis true of the Chopin of 1848 is not true of the Chopin of 1831nor of 1841. In the last years of his life he became so weak thatsometimes, as Stephen Heller told me, his playing was hardlyaudible. He then made use of all sorts of devices to hide thewant of vigour, often modifying the original conception of hiscompositions, but always producing beautiful effects. Thus, togive only one example (for which and much other interestinginformation I am indebted to Mr. Charles Halle), Chopin played athis last concert in Paris (February, 1848) the two forte passagestowards the end of the Barcarole, not as they are printed, butpianissimo and with all sorts of dynamic finesses. Havingpossessed himself of the most recondite mysteries of touch, andmastered as no other pianist had done the subtlest gradations oftone, he even then, reduced by disease as he was, did not givethe hearer the impression of weakness. At least this is what Mr. Otto Goldschmidt relates, who likewise was present at thisconcert. There can be no doubt that what Chopin aimed at chiefly, or rather, let us say, what his physical constitution permittedhim to aim at, was quality not quantity of tone. A writer in the"Menestrel" (October 21, 1849) remarks that for Chopin, who inthis was unlike all other pianists, the piano had always too muchtone; and that his constant endeavour was to SENTIMENTALISE thetimbre, his greatest care to avoid everything which approachedthe fracas pianistique of the time. 

Of course, a true artist's touch has besides its mechanical alsoits spiritual aspect. With regard to this it is impossible tooverlook the personal element which pervaded and characterisedChopin's touch. M. Marmontel does not forget to note it in his"Pianistes Celebres. " He writes:--

 In the marvellous art of carrying and modulating the tone, in the expressive, melancholy manner of shading it off, Chopin was entirely himself. He had quite an individual way of attacking the keyboard, a supple, mellow touch, sonorous effects of a vaporous fluidity of which only he knew the secret. 

In connection with Chopin's production of tone, I must not omitto mention his felicitous utilisation of the loud and softpedals. It was not till the time of Liszt, Thalberg, and Chopinthat the pedals became a power in pianoforte-playing. Hummel didnot understand their importance, and failed to take advantage ofthem. The few indications we find in Beethoven's works prove thatthis genius began to see some of the as yet latent possibilities. Of the virtuosi, Moscheles was the first who made a more extensive and artisticuse of the pedals, although also he employed them sparinglycompared with his above-named younger contemporaries. Everypianist of note has, of course, his own style of pedalling. Unfortunately, there are no particulars forthcoming with regardto Chopin's peculiar style; and this is the more to be regrettedas the composer was very careless in his notation of the pedals. Rubinstein declares that most of the pedal marks in Chopin'scompositions are wrongly placed. If nothing more, we know atleast thus much: "No pianist before him [Chopin] has employed thepedals alternately or simultaneously with so much tact andability, " and "in making constantly use of the pedal he obtaineddes harmonies ravissantes, des bruissements melodiques quietonnaient et charmaient. " [FOOTNOTE: Marmontel: "Les Pianistescelebres. "]

The poetical qualities of Chopin's playingare not so easilydefined as the technical ones. Indeed, if they are definable atall they are so only by one who, like Liszt, is a poet as well asa great pianist. I shall, therefore, transcribe from his booksome of the most important remarks bearing on this matter. 

After saying that Chopin idealised the fugitive poesy inspired byfugitive apparitions like "La Fee aux Miettes, " "Le Lutind'Argail, " &c. , to such an extent as to render its fibres so thinand friable that they seemed no longer to belong to our nature, but to reveal to us the indiscreet confidences of the Undines, Titanias, Ariels, Queen Mabs, and Oberons, Liszt proceeds thus:--

 When this kind of inspiration laid hold of Chopin his playing assumed a distinctive character, whatever the kind of music he executed might be--dance-music or dreamy music, mazurkas or nocturnes, preludes or scherzos, waltzes or tarantellas, studies or ballades. He imprinted on them all one knows not what nameless colour, what vague appearance, what pulsations akin to vibration, that had almost no longer anything material about them, and, like the imponderables, seemed to act on one's being without passing through the senses. Sometimes one thought one heard the joyous tripping of some amorously- teasing Peri; sometimes there were modulations velvety and iridescent as the robe of a salamander; sometimes one heard accents of deep despondency, as if souls in torment did not find the loving prayers necessary for their final deliverance. At other times there breathed forth from his fingers a despair so mournful, so inconsolable, that one thought one saw Byron's Jacopo Foscari come to life again, and contemplated the extreme dejection of him who, dying of love for his country, preferred death to exile, being unable to endure the pain of leaving Venezia la bella!

It is interesting to compare this description with that ofanother poet, a poet who sent forth his poetry daintily dressedin verse as well as carelessly wrapped in prose. Liszt tells usthat Chopin had in his imagination and talent something "qui, parla purete de sa diction, par ses accointances avec La Fee auxMiettes et Le Lutin d'Argail, par ses rencon-tres de Seraphine etde Diane, murmurant a son oreille leurs plus confidentiellesplaintes, leurs reves les plus innommes, " [FOOTNOTE: Theallusions are to stories by Charles Nodier. According to Sainte-Beuve, "La Fee aux Miettes" was one of those stories in which theauthor was influenced by Hoffmann's creations. ] reminded him ofNodier. Now, what thoughts did Chopin's playing call up in Heine?

 Yes, one must admit that Chopin has genius in the full sense of the word; he is not only a virtuoso, he is also a poet; he can embody for us the poesy which lives within his soul, he is a tone-poet, and nothing can be compared to the pleasure which he gives us when he sits at the piano and improvises. He is then neither a Pole, nor a Frenchman, nor a German, he reveals then a higher origin, one perceives then that he comes from the land of Mozart, Raphael, and Goethe, his true fatherland is the dream-realm of poesy. When he sits at the piano and improvises I feel as though a countryman from my beloved native land were visiting me and telling me the most curious things which have taken place there during my absence. .. Sometimes I should like to interrupt him with questions: And how is the beautiful little water-nymph who knows how to fasten her silvery veil so coquettishly round her green locks? Does the white-bearded sea-god still persecute her with his foolish, stale love? Are the roses at home still in their flame-hued pride? Do the trees still sing as beautifully in the moonlight?

But to return to Liszt. A little farther on than the passage Iquoted above he says:--

 In his playing the great artist rendered exquisitely that kind of agitated trepidation, timid or breathless, which seizes the heart when one believes one's self in the vicinity of supernatural beings, in presence of those whom one does not know either how to divine or to lay hold of, to embrace or to charm. He always made the melody undulate like a skiff borne on the bosom of a powerful wave; or he made it move vaguely like an aerial apparition suddenly sprung up in this tangible and palpable world. In his writings he at first indicated this manner which gave so individual an impress to his virtuosity by the term tempo rubato: stolen, broken time--a measure at once supple, abrupt, and languid, vacillating like the flame under the breath which agitates it, like the corn in a field swayed by the soft pressure of a warm air, like the top of trees bent hither and thither by a keen breeze. 

 But as the term taught nothing to him who knew, said nothing to him who did not know, understand, and feel, Chopin afterwards ceased to add this explanation to his music, being persuaded that if one understood it, it was impossible not to divine this rule of irregularity. Accordingly, all his compositions ought to be played with that kind of accented, rhythmical balancement, that morbidezza, the secret of which it was difficult to seize if one had not often heard him play. 

Let us try if it is not possible to obtain a clearer notion ofthis mysterious tempo rubato. Among instrumentalists the "stolentime" was brought into vogue especially by Chopin and Liszt. Butit is not an invention of theirs or their time. Quanz, the greatflutist (see Marpurg: "Kritische Beitrage. " Vol. I. ), said thathe heard it for the first time from the celebrated singer SantaStella Lotti, who was engaged in 1717 at the Dresden Opera, anddied in 1759 at Venice. Above all, however, we have to keep inmind that the tempo rubato is a genus which comprehends numerousspecies. In short, the tempo rubato of Chopin is not that ofLiszt, that of Liszt is not that of Henselt, and so on. As forthe general definitions we find in dictionaries, they can affordus no particular enlightenment. But help comes to us fromelsewhere. Liszt explained Chopin's tempo rubato in a verypoetical and graphic manner to his pupil the Russian pianistNeilissow:--"Look at these trees!" he said, "the wind plays inthe leaves, stirs up life among them, the tree remains the same, that is Chopinesque rubato. " But how did the composer himselfdescribe it? From Madame Dubois and other pupils of Chopin welearn that he was in the habit of saying to them: "Que votre maingauche soit votre maitre de chapelle et garde toujours la mesure"(Let your left hand be your conductor and always keep time). According to Lenz Chopin taught also: "Angenommen, ein Stuckdauert so und so viel Minuten, wenn das Ganze nur so langegedauert hat, im Einzelnen kann's anders sein!" (Suppose a piecelasts so and so many minutes, if only the whole lasts so long, the differences in the details do not matter). This is somewhatambiguous teaching, and seems to be in contradiction to thepreceding precept. Mikuli, another pupil of Chopin's, explainshis master's tempo rubato thus:--"While the singing hand, eitherirresolutely lingering or as in passionate speech eagerlyanticipating with a certain impatient vehemence, freed the truthof the musical expression from all rhythmical fetters, the other, the accompanying hand, continued to play strictly in time. " Weget a very lucid description of Chopin's tempo rubato from thecritic of the Athenaeum who after hearing the pianist-composer ata London matinee in 1848 wrote:--"He makes free use of temporubato; leaning about within his bars more than any player werecollect, but still subject to a presiding measure such aspresently habituates the ear to the liberties taken. " Often, nodoubt, people mistook for tempo rubato what in reality was asuppression or displacement of accent, to which kind of playingthe term is indeed sometimes applied. The reader will rememberthe following passage from a criticism in the "WienerTheaterzeitung" of 1829:--"There are defects noticeable in theyoung man's [Chopin's] playing, among which is perhaps especiallyto be mentioned the non-observance of the indication by accent ofthe commencement of musical phrases. " Mr. Halle related to me aninteresting dispute bearing on this matter. The German pianisttold Chopin one day that he played in his mazurkas often 4/4instead of 3/4 time. Chopin would not admit it at first, but whenMr. Halle proved his case by counting to Chopin's playing, thelatter admitted the correctness of the observation, and laughingsaid that this was national. Lenz reports a similar disputebetween Chopin and Meyerbeer. In short, we may sum up inMoscheles' words, Chopin's playing did not degenerate intoTactlosigkeit [lit. , timelessness], but it was of the mostcharming originality. Along with the above testimony we have, however, to take note of what Berlioz said on the subject:"Chopin supportait mal le frein de la mesure; il a poussebeaucoup trap loin, selon moi, l'independance rhythmique. "Berlioz even went so far as to say that "Chopin could not playstrictly in time [ne pouvait pas jouer regulierement]. "

Indeed, so strange was Chopin's style that when Mr. Charles Hallefirst heard him play his compositions he could not imagine howwhat he heard was represented by musical signs. But strange asChopin's style of playing was he thinks that its peculiaritiesare generally exaggerated. The Parisians said of Rubinstein'splaying of compositions of Chopin: "Ce n'est pas ca!" Mr. Hallehimself thinks that Rubinstein's rendering of Chopin is clever, but not Chopinesque. Nor do Von Bulow's readings come near theoriginal. As for Chopin's pupils, they are even less successfulthan others in imitating their master's style. The opinion of onewho is so distinguished a pianist and at the same time was sowell acquainted with Chopin as Mr. Halle is worth having. HearingChopin often play his compositions he got so familiar with thatmaster's music and felt so much in sympathy with it that thecomposer liked to have it played by him, and told him that whenhe was in the adjoining room he could imagine he was playinghimself. 

But it is time that we got off the shoals on which we have beenlying so long. Well, Lenz shall set us afloat:--

 In the undulation of the motion, in that suspension and unrest [Hangen und Bangen], in the rubato as he understood it, Chopin was captivating, every note was the outcome of the best taste in the best sense of the word. If he introduced an embellishment, which happened only rarely, it was always a kind of miracle of good taste. Chopin was by his whole nature unfitted to render Beethoven or Weber, who paint on a large scale and with a big brush. Chopin was an artist in crayons [Pastellmaler], but an INCOMPARABLE one! By the side of Liszt he might pass with honour for that master's well-matched wife [ebenburtige Frau, i. E. , wife of equal rank]. Beethoven's B flat major Sonata, Op. 106, and Chopin exclude each other. 

One day Chopin took Lenz with him to the Baronne Krudner and herfriend the Countess Scheremetjew to whom he had promised to playthe variations of Beethoven's Sonata in A flat major (Op. 26). And how did he play them?

 Beautifully [says Lenz], but not so beautifully as his own things, not enthrallingly [packend], not en relief, not as a romance increasing in interest from variation to variation. He whispered it mezza voce, but it was incomparable in the cantilena, infinitely perfect in the phrasing of the structure, ideally beautiful, but FEMININE! Beethoven is a man and never ceases to be one!

 Chopin played on a Pleyel, he made it a point never to give lessons on another instrument; they were obliged to get a Pleyel. All were charmed, I also was charmed, but only with the tone of Chopin, with his touch, with his sweetness and grace, with the purity of his style. 

Chopin's purity of style, self-command, and aristocratic reservehave to be quite especially noted by us who are accustomed tohear the master's compositions played wildly, deliriously, ostentatiously. J. B. Cramer's remarks on Chopin are significant. The master of a bygone age said of the master of the thenflourishing generation:--

 I do not understand him, but he plays beautifully and correctly, oh! very correctly, he does not give way to his passion like other young men, but I do not understand him. 

What one reads and hears of Chopin's playing agrees with theaccount of his pupil Mikuli, who remarks that, with all thewarmth which Chopin possessed in so high a degree, his renderingwas nevertheless temperate [massvoll], chaste, nay, aristocratic, and sometimes even severely reserved. When, on returning homefrom the above-mentioned visit to the Russian ladies, Lenzexpressed his sincere opinion of Chopin's playing of Beethoven'svariations, the master replied testily: "I indicate (j'indique);the hearer must complete (parachever) the picture. " And whenafterwards, while Chopin was changing his clothes in an adjoiningroom, Lenz committed the impertinence of playing Beethoven'stheme as he understood it, the master came in in his shirt-sleeves, sat down beside him, and at the end of the theme laidhis hand on Lenz's shoulder and said: "I shall tell Liszt of it;this has never happened to me before; but it is beautiful--well, BUT MUST ONE THEN ALWAYS SPEAK SO PASSIONATELY (sideclamatoirement)?" The italics in the text, not those inparentheses, are mine. I marked some of Chopin's words thus thatthey might get the attention they deserve. "Tell me with whom youassociate, and I will tell you who you are. " Parodying thisaphorism one might say, not without a good deal of truth: Tell mewhat piano you use, and I will tell you what sort of a pianistyou are. Liszt gives us all the desirable information as toChopin's predilection in this respect. But Lenz too has, as wehave seen, touched on this point. Liszt writes:--

 While Chopin was strong and healthy, as during the first years of his residence in Paris, he used to play on an Erard piano; but after his friend Camille Pleyel had made him a present of one of his splendid instruments, remarkable for their metallic ring and very light touch, he would play on no other maker's. 

 If he was engaged for a soiree at the house of one of his Polish or French friends, he would often send his own instrument, if there did not happen to be a Pleyel in the house. 

 Chopin was very partial to [affectionnait] Pleyel's pianos, particularly on account of their silvery and somewhat veiled sonority, and of the easy touch which permitted him to draw from them sounds which one might have believed to belong to those harmonicas of which romantic Germany has kept the monopoly, and which her ancient masters constructed so ingeniously, marrying crystal to water. 

Chopin himself said:--

 When I am indisposed, I play on one of Erard's pianos and there I easily find a ready-made tone. But when I feel in the right mood and strong enough to find my own tone for myself, I must have one of Pleyel's pianos. 

From the fact that Chopin played during his visit to GreatBritain in 1848 at public concerts as well as at private partieson instruments of Broadwood's, we may conclude that he alsoappreciated the pianos of this firm. In a letter dated London, 48, Dover Street, May 6, 1848, he writes to Gutmann: "Erard a etecharmant, il m'a fait poser un piano. J'ai un de Broadwood et unde Pleyel, ce qui fait 3, et je ne trouve pas encore le tempspour les jouer. " And in a letter dated Edinburgh, August 6, andCalder House, August 11, he writes to Franchomme: "I have aBroadwood piano in my room, and the Pleyel of Miss Stirling inthe salon. "

Here, I think, will be the fittest place to record what I havelearnt regarding Chopin's musical taste and opinions on music andmusicians, and what will perhaps illustrate better than any otherpart of this book the character of the man and artist. Hisopinions of composers and musical works show that he had in ahigh degree les vices de ses qualites. The delicacy of hisconstitution and the super-refinement of his breeding, which putwithin his reach the inimitable beauties of subtlest tendernessand grace that distinguish his compositions and distinguished hisplaying, were disqualifications as well as qualifications. "Everykind of uncouth roughness [toutes les rudesses sauvages] inspiredhim with aversion, " says Liszt. "In music as in literature and inevery-day life everything which bordered on melodrama was tortureto him. " In short, Chopin was an aristocrat with all theexclusiveness of an aristocrat. 

The inability of men of genius to appreciate the merit of one orthe other of their great predecessors and more especially oftheir contemporaries has often been commented on and wondered at, but I doubt very much whether a musician could be instanced whosesympathies were narrower than those of Chopin. Besides beingbiographically important, the record of the master's likings anddislikings will teach a useful lesson to the critic and furnishsome curious material for the psychological student. 

Highest among all the composers, living and dead, Chopin esteemedMozart. Him he regarded as "the ideal type, the poet parexcellence. " It is related of Chopin--with what truth I do notknow--that he never travelled without having either the score of"Don Giovanni" or that of the "Requiem" in his portmanteau. Significant, although not founded on fact, is the story accordingto which he expressed the wish that the "Requiem" should beperformed at his funeral service. Nothing, however, shows hislove for the great German master more unmistakably and moretouchingly than the words which on his death-bed he addressed tohis dear friends the Princess Czartoryska and M. Franchomme: "Youwill play Mozart together, and I shall hear you. " And why didChopin regard Mozart as the ideal type, the poet par excellence?Liszt answers: "Because Mozart condescended more rarely than anyother composer to cross the steps which separate refinement fromvulgarity. " But what no doubt more especially stirredsympathetic chords in the heart of Chopin, and inspired him withthat loving admiration for the earlier master, was the sweetness, the grace, and the harmoniousness which in Mozart's works reignsupreme and undisturbed--the unsurpassed and unsurpassableperfect loveliness and lovely perfection which result from acomplete absence of everything that is harsh, hard, awkward, unhealthy, and eccentric. And yet, says Liszt of Chopin:--

 His sybaritism of purity, his apprehension of what was commonplace, were such that even in "Don Giovanni, " even in this immortal chef-d'oeuvre, he discovered passages the presence of which we have heard him regret. His worship of Mozart was not thereby diminished, but as it were saddened. 

The composer who next to Mozart stood highest in Chopin's esteemwas Bach. "It was difficult to say, " remarks Mikuli, "which ofthe two he loved most. " Chopin not only, as has already beenmentioned, had works of Bach on his writing-table at Valdemosa, corrected the Parisian edition for his own use, and preparedhimself for his concerts by playing Bach, but also set his pupilsto study the immortal cantor's suites, partitas, and preludes andfugues. Madame Dubois told me that at her last meeting with him(in 1848) he recommended her "de toujours travailler Bach, "adding that that was the best means of making progress. 

Hummel, Field, and Moscheles were the pianoforte composers whoseem to have given Chopin most satisfaction. Mozart and Bach werehis gods, but these were his friends. Gutmann informed me thatChopin was particularly fond of Hummel; Liszt writes that Hummelwas one of the composers Chopin played again and again with thegreatest pleasure; and from Mikuli we learn that of Hummel'scompositions his master liked best the Fantasia, the Septet, andthe Concertos. Liszt's statement that the Nocturnes of Field wereregarded by Chopin as "insuffisants" seems to me disproved byunexceptionable evidence. Chopin schooled his pupils mostassiduously and carefully in the Nocturnes as well as in theConcertos of Field, who was, to use Madame Dubois's words, "anauthor very sympathetic to him. " Mikuli relates that Chopin had apredilection for Field's A flat Concerto and the Nocturnes, andthat, when playing the latter, he used to improvise the mostcharming embellishments. To take liberties with another artist'sworks and complain when another artist takes liberties with yourown works is very inconsistent, is it not? But it is alsothoroughly human, and Chopin was not exempt from the commonfailing. One day when Liszt did with some composition of Chopin'swhat the latter was in the habit of doing with Field's Nocturnes, the enraged composer is said to have told his friend to play hiscompositions as they were written or to let them alone. M. Marmontel writes:--

 Either from a profound love of the art or from an excess of conscience personelle, Chopin could not bear any one to touch the text of his works. The slightest modification seemed to him a grave fault which he did not even forgive his intimate friends, his fervent admirers, Liszt not excepted. I have many a time, as well as my master, Zimmermann, caused Chopin's sonatas, concertos, ballades, and allegros to be played as examination pieces; but restricted as I was to a fragment of the work, I was pained by the thought of hurting the composer, who considered these alterations a veritable sacrilege. 

This, however, is a digression. Little need be added to what hasalready been said in another chapter of the third composer of thegroup we were speaking of. Chopin, the reader will remember, toldMoscheles that he loved his music, and Moscheles admitted that hewho thus complimented him was intimately acquainted with it. FromMikuli we learn that Moscheles' studies were very sympathetic tohis master. As to Moscheles' duets, they were played by Chopinprobably more frequently than the works of any other composer, excepting of course his own works. We hear of his playing themnot only with his pupils, but with Osborne, with Moscheleshimself, and with Liszt, who told me that Chopin was fond ofplaying with him the duets of Moscheles and Hummel. 

Speaking of playing duets reminds me of Schubert, who, Gutmanninformed me, was a favourite of Chopin's. The Viennese master's"Divertissement hongrois" he admired without reserve. Also themarches and polonaises a quatre mains he played with his pupils. But his teaching repertoire seems to have contained, with theexception of the waltzes, none of the works a deux mains, neitherthe sonatas, nor the impromptus, nor the "Moments musicals. " Thisshows that if Schubert was a favourite of Chopin's, he was soonly to a certain extent. Indeed, Chopin even found fault withthe master where he is universally regarded as facile princeps. Liszt remarks:--

 In spite of the charm which he recognised in some of Schubert's melodies, he did not care to hear those whose contours were too sharp for his ear, where feeling is as it were denuded, where one feels, so to speak, the flesh palpitate and the bones crack under the grasp of anguish. A propos of Schubert, Chopin is reported to have said: "The sublime is dimmed when it is followed by the common or the trivial. "

I shall now mention some of those composers with whom Chopin wasless in sympathy. In the case of Weber his approval, however, seems to have outweighed his censure. At least Mikuli relatesthat the E minor and A flat major Sonatas and the "Concertstuck"were among those works for which his master had a predilection, and Madame Dubois says that he made his pupils play the Sonatasin C and in A flat major with extreme care. Now let us hear Lenz:--

 He could not appreciate Weber; he spoke of "opera, " "unsuitable for the piano" [unklaviermassig]! On the whole, Chopin was little in sympathy with the GERMAN spirit in music, although I heard him say: "There is only ONE SCHOOL, the German!"

Gutmann informed me that he brought the A flat major Sonata withhim from Germany in 1836 or 1837, and that Chopin did not know itthen. It is hard enough to believe that Liszt asked Lenz in 1828if the composer of the "Freischutz" had also written for thepiano, but Chopin's ignorance in 1836 is much more startling. Didfame and publications travel so slowly in the earlier part of thecentury? Had genius to wait so long for recognition? If thestatement, for the correctness of which Gutmann alone isresponsible, rests on fact and not on some delusion of memory, this most characteristic work of Weber and one of the mostimportant items of the pianoforte literature did not reachChopin, one of the foremost European pianists, till twenty yearsafter its publication, which took place in December, 1816. 

That Chopin had a high opinion of Beethoven may be gathered froma story which Lenz relates in an article written for the"Berliner Musikzeitung" (Vol. XXVI). Little Filtsch--the talentedyoung Hungarian who made Liszt say: "I shall shut my shop when hebegins to travel"--having played to a select company invited byhis master the latter's Concerto in E minor, Chopin was sopleased with his pupil's performance that he went with him toSchlesinger's music-shop, asked for the score of "Fidelio, " andpresented it to him with the words:--"I am in your debt, you havegiven me great pleasure to-day, I wrote the concerto in a happytime, accept, my dear young friend, the great master work! readin it as long as you live and remember me also sometimes. " ButChopin's high opinion of Beethoven was neither unlimited norunqualified. His attitude as regards this master, whichFranchomme briefly indicated by saying that his friend lovedBeethoven, but had his dislikes in connection with him, is morefully explained by Liszt. 

 However great his admiration for the works of Beethoven might be, certain parts of them seemed to him too rudely fashioned. Their structure was too athletic to please him; their wraths seemed to him too violent [leurs courroux lui semblaient trop rugissants]. He held that in them passion too closely approaches cataclysm; the lion's marrow which is found in every member of his phrases was in his opinion a too substantial matter, and the seraphic accents, the Raphaelesque profiles, which appear in the midst of the powerful creations of this genius, became at times almost painful to him in so violent a contrast. 

I am able to illustrate this most excellent general descriptionby some examples. Chopin said that Beethoven raised him onemoment up to the heavens and the next moment precipitated him tothe earth, nay, into the very mire. Such a fall Chopinexperienced always at the commencement of the last movement ofthe C minor Symphony. Gutmann, who informed me of this, addedthat pieces such as the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata (Csharp minor) were most highly appreciated by his master. One daywhen Mr. Halle played to Chopin one of the three Sonatas, Op. 31(I am not sure which it was), the latter remarked that he hadformerly thought the last movement VULGAR. From this Mr. Hallenaturally concluded that Chopin could not have studied the worksof Beethoven thoroughly. This conjecture is confirmed by what welearn from Lenz, who in 1842 saw a good deal of Chopin, andthanks to his Boswellian inquisitiveness, persistence, andforwardness, made himself acquainted with a number of interestingfacts. Lenz and Chopin spoke a great deal about Beethoven afterthat visit to the Russian ladies mentioned in a foregoing part ofthis chapter. They had never spoken of the great master before. Lenz says of Chopin:--

 He did not take a very serious interest in Beethoven; he knew only his principal compositions, the last works not at all. This was in the Paris air! People knew the symphonies, the quartets of the middle period but little, the last ones not at all. 

Chopin, on being told by Lenz that Beethoven had in the F minorQuartet anticipated Mendelssohn, Schumann, and him; and that thescherzo prepared the way for his mazurka-fantasias, said: "Bringme this quartet, I do not know it. " According to Mikuli Chopinwas a regular frequenter of the concerts of the Societe desConcerts du Conservatoire and of the Alard, Franchomme, &c. , quartet party. But one of the most distinguished musicians livingin Paris, who knew Chopin's opinion of Beethoven, suspects thatthe music was for him not the greatest attraction of theConservatoire concerts, that in fact, like most of those who wentthere, he considered them a fashionable resort. True or not, thesuspicion is undeniably significant. "But Mendelssohn, " thereader will say, "surely Chopin must have admired and felt insympathy with this sweet-voiced, well-mannered musician?"Nothing, however, could be farther from the truth. Chopin hatedMendelssohn's D minor Trio, and told Halle that that composer hadnever written anything better than the first Song without Words. Franchomme, stating the case mildly, says that Chopin did notcare much for Mendelssohn's music; Gutmann, however, declaredstoutly that his master positively disliked it and thought itCOMMON. This word and the mention of the Trio remind me of apassage in Hiller's "Mendelssohn: Letters and Recollections, " inwhich the author relates how, when his friend played to him the Dminor Trio after its completion, he was favourably impressed bythe fire, spirit, and flow, in one word, the masterly characterof the work, but had some misgivings about certain pianofortepassages, especially those based on broken chords, which, accustomed as he was by his constant intercourse with Liszt andChopin during his stay of several years in Paris to the richpassage work of the new school, appeared to him old-fashioned. Mendelssohn, who in his letters repeatedly alludes to hissterility in the matter of new pianoforte passages, allowedhimself to be persuaded by Hiller to rewrite the pianoforte part, and was pleased with the result. It is clear from the above thatif Mendelssohn failed to give Chopin his due, Chopin did morethan apply the jus talionis. 

Schumann, however, found still less favour in the eyes of Chopinthan Mendelssohn; for whilst among the works which, for instance, Madame Dubois, who was Chopin's pupil for five years, studiedunder her master, Mendelssohn was represented at least by theSongs without Words and the G minor Concerto, Schumann wasconspicuous by his total absence. And let it be remarked thatthis was in the last years of Chopin's life, when Schumann hadcomposed and published almost all his important works forpianoforte alone and many of his finest works for pianoforte withother instruments. M. Mathias, Chopin's pupil during the years1839-1844, wrote to me: "I think I recollect that he had no greatopinion of Schumann. I remember seeing the "Carnaval, " Op. 9, onhis table; he did not speak very highly of it. " In 1838, whenStephen Heller was about to leave Augsburg for Paris, Schumannsent him a copy of his "Carnaval" (published in September, 1837), to be presented to Chopin. This copy had a title-page printed invarious colours and was most tastefully bound; for Schumann knewChopin's love of elegance, and wished to please him. Soon afterhis arrival in Paris, Heller called on the Polish musician andfound him sitting for his portrait. On receiving the copy of the"Carnaval" Chopin said: "How beautifully they get up these thingsin Germany!" but uttered not a word about the music. However, weshall see presently what his opinion of it was. Some time, perhaps some years, after this first meeting with Chopin, Hellerwas asked by Schlesinger whether he would advise him to publishSchumann's "Carnaval. " Heller answered that it would be a goodspeculation, for although the work would probably not sell wellat first, it was sure to pay in the long run. ThereuponSchlesinger confided to Heller what Chopin had told him--namely, that the "Carnaval" was not music at all. The contemplation ofthis indifference and more than indifference of a great artist tothe creations of one of his most distinguished contemporaries issaddening, especially if we remember how devoted Schumann was toChopin, how he admired him, loved him, upheld him, and idolisedhim. Had it not been for Schumann's enthusiastic praise andvaliant defence Chopin's fame would have risen and spread, moreslowly in Germany. 

"Of virtuoso music of any kind I never saw anything on his desk, nor do I think anybody else ever did, " says Mikuli. . This, although true in the main, is somewhat too strongly stated. Kalkbrenner, whose "noisy virtuosities [virtuosites tapageuses]and decorative expressivities [expressivites decoratives]" Chopinregarded with antipathy, and Thalberg, whose shallow eleganciesand brilliancies he despised, were no doubt altogether banishedfrom his desk; this, however, seems not to have been the casewith Liszt, who occasionally made his appearance there. ThusMadame Dubois studied under Chopin Liszt's transcription ofRossini's "Tarantella" and of the Septet from Donizetti's "Luciadi Lammermoor. " But the compositions of Liszt that had Chopin'sapproval were very limited in number. Chopin, who viewed makingconcessions to bad taste at the cost of true art and for the sakeof success with the greatest indignation, found his former friendoften guilty of this sin. In 1840 Liszt's transcription ofBeethoven's "Adelaide" was published in a supplement to theGazette musicale. M. Mathias happened to come to Chopin on theday when the latter had received the number of the journal whichcontained the piece in question, and found his master furious, outre, on account of certain cadenzas which he considered out ofplace and out of keeping. 

We have seen in one of the earlier chapters how little Chopinapproved of Berlioz's matter and manner; some of the ultra-romanticist's antipodes did not fare much better. As for Halevy, Chopin had no great opinion of him; Meyerbeer's music he heartilydisliked; and, although not insensible to Auber's French espritand liveliness, he did not prize this master's works very highly. Indeed, at the Italian opera-house he found more that was to histaste than at the French opera-houses. Bellini's music had aparticular charm for Chopin, and he was also an admirer ofRossini. 

The above notes exemplify and show the truth of Liszt's remark:--

 In the great models and the master-works of art Chopin sought only what corresponded with his nature. What resembled it pleased him; what differed from it hardly received justice from him. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

1843-1847. 

CHOPIN'S PECUNIARY CIRCUMSTANCES, AND BUSINESS EXPERIENCES WITHPUBLISHERS. --LETTERS TO FRANCHOMME. --PUBLICATIONS FROM 1842-7. --SOJOURNS AT NOHANT. --LISZT, MATTHEW ARNOLD, GEORGE SAND, CHARLESROLLINAT, AND EUGENE DELACROIX ON NOHANT AND LIFE AT NOHANT. --CHOPIN'S MODE OF COMPOSITION. --CHOPIN AND GEORGE SAND TAKE UPTHEIR PARIS QUARTERS IN THE CITE D'ORLEANS. --THEIR WAY OF LIFETHERE, PARTICULARLY CHOPIN'S, AS DESCRIBED BY HIS PUPILS LINDSAYSLOPER, MATHIAS, AND MADAME DUBOIS, AND MORE ESPECIALLY BY LENZ, MADAME SAND HERSELF, AND PROFESSOR ALEXANDER CHODZKO (DOMESTICRELATIONS, APARTMENTS, MANNERS, SYMPATHIES, HIS TALENT FORMIMICRY, GEORGE SAND'S FRIENDS, AND HER ESTIMATE OF CHOPIN'SCHARACTER). 

Chopin's life from 1843 to 1847 was too little eventful to lenditself to a chronologically progressive narrative. I shall, therefore, begin this chapter with a number of letters written bythe composer during this period to his friend Franchomme, andthen endeavour to describe Chopin's mode of life, friends, character, &c. 

The following fascicle of letters, although containing less aboutthe writer's thoughts, feelings, and doings than we could wish, affords nevertheless matter of interest. At any rate, muchadditional light is thrown on Chopin's pecuniary circumstancesand his dealings with his publishers. 

Impecuniosity seems to have been a chronic state with the artistand sometimes to have pressed hard upon him. On one occasion iteven made him write to the father of one of his pupils, and askfor the payment of the fees for five lessons (100 francs). M. Mathias tells me that the letter is still in his possession. Onewould hardly have expected such a proceeding from a grandseigneur like Chopin, and many will, no doubt, ask, how it wasthat a teacher so much sought after, who got 20 francs a lesson, and besides had an income from his compositions, was reduced tosuch straits. The riddle is easily solved. Chopin was open-handedand not much of an economist: he spent a good deal on prettytrifles, assisted liberally his needy countrymen, made handsomepresents to his friends, and is said to have had occasionally topay bills of his likewise often impecunious lady-love. Moreover, his total income was not so large as may be supposed, foralthough he could have as many pupils as he wished, he nevertaught more than five hours a day, and lived every year forseveral months in the country. And then there is one other pointto be taken into consideration: he often gave his lessons gratis. From Madame Rubio I learned that on one occasion when she hadplaced the money for a series of lessons on the mantel-piece, themaster declined to take any of it, with the exception of a 20-franc piece, for which sum he put her name down on a subscriptionlist for poor Poles. Lindsay Sloper, too, told me that Chopindeclined payment for the lessons he gave him. 

Chopin's business experiences were not, for the most part, of apleasant nature; this is shown as much by the facts he mentionsin his letters as by the distrust with which he speaks of thepublishers. Here are some more particulars on the same subject. Gutmann says that Chopin on his return from Majorca askedSchlesinger for better terms. But the publisher, whilstprofessing the highest opinion of the composer's merit, regrettedthat the sale of the compositions was not such as to allow him topay more than he had hitherto done. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin's lettersshow that Gutmann's statement is correct. Troupenas was Chopin'spublisher for some time after his return from Majorca. ] StephenHeller remembered hearing that Breitkopf and Hartel, of Leipzig, wrote to their Paris agent informing him that they would go onpublishing Chopin's compositions, although, considering their byno means large sale, the terms at which they got them were toohigh. Ed. Wolff related to me that one day he drove with hiscountryman to the publisher Troupenas, to whom Chopin wished tosell his Sonata (probably the one in B flat minor). When afterhis negotiations with the publisher Chopin was seated again inthe carriage, he said in Polish: "The pig, he offered me 200francs for my Sonata!" Chopin's relations with England were evenless satisfactory. At a concert at which Filtsch played, Chopinintroduced Stephen Heller to Wessel or to a representative ofthatfirm, but afterwards remarked: "You won't find them pleasant todeal with. " Chopin at any rate did not find them pleasant to dealwith. Hearing that Gutmann was going to London he asked his pupilto call at Wessel's and try to renew the contract which hadexpired. The publisher on being applied to answered that not onlywould he not renew the contract, but that he would not even printChopin's compositions if he got them for nothing. Among thepieces offered was the Berceuse. With regard to this story ofGutmann's it has, however, to be stated that, though it may havesome foundation of fact, it is not true as he told it; for Wesselcertainly had published the Berceuse by June 26, 1845, and alsopublished in the course of time the five following works. Then, however, the connection was broken off by Wessel. Chopin'sgrumblings at his English publisher brings before us only oneside of the question. The other side comes in view in thefollowing piece of information with which Wessel's successor, Mr. Edwin Ashdown, favoured me:--"In 1847 Mr. Wessel got tired ofbuying Chopin's works, which at that time had scarcely any sale, and discontinued the agreement, his last assignment from Chopin(of Op. 60, 61, and 62) being dated July 17, 1847. " Wesseladvertised these works on September 26, 1846. 

Although in the first of the following letters the day, month, and year when it was written are not mentioned, and the secondand third inform us only of the day and month, but not of theyear, internal evidence shows that the first four letters formone group and belong to the year 1844. Chopin places the datesometimes at the head, sometimes at the foot, and sometimes inthe middle of his letters; to give it prominence I shall place italways at the head, but indicate where he places it in themiddle. 

Chateau de Nohant, near La Chatre, Indre [August 1, 1844]. 

 Dearest [Cherissime], --I send you [FOOTNOTE: In addressing Franchomme Chopin makes use of the pronoun of the second person singular. ] the letter from Schlesinger and another for him. Read them. He wishes to delay the publication, and I cannot do so. If he says NO, give my manuscripts to Maho [FOOTNOTE: See next letter. ] so that he may get M. Meissonnier [FOOTNOTE: A Paris music-publisher. He brought out in the following year (1845) Chopin's Op. 57, Berceuse, and Op. 58, Sonate (B minor). The compositions spoken of in this and the next two letters are Op. 55, Deux Nocturnes, and Op. 56, Trois Mazurkas. ] to take them for the same price, 600 francs, I believe that he (Schlesinger) will engrave them. They must be published on the 20th. But you know it is only necessary to register the title on that day. I ask your pardon for troubling you with all these things. I love you, and apply to you as I would to my brother. Embrace your children. My regards to Madame Franchomme. --Your devoted friend, F. Chopin. 

 A thousand compliments from Madame Sand. 

 Chateau de Nohant, Indre, August 2 [1844]. 

 Dearest, --I was in great haste yesterday when I wrote to you to apply at Meissonnier's through Maho IF SCHLESINGER REFUSES my compositions. I forgot that Henri Lemoine [FOOTNOTE: A Paris music-publisher. ] paid Schlesinger a very high price for my studies, and that I had rather have Lemoine engrave my manuscripts than Meissonnier. I give you much trouble, dear friend, but here is a letter for H. Lemoine, which I send to you. Read it, and arrange with him. He must either publish the compositions or register the titles on the 20th of this month (August); ask from him only 300 francs for each, which makes 600 francs for the two. Tell him he need not pay me till my return to Paris if he likes. Give him even the two for 500 francs if you think it necessary. I had rather do that than give them to Meissonnier for 600 francs, as I wrote to you yesterday without reflecting. If you have in the meantime already arranged something with M. , it is a different matter. If not, do not let them go for less than 1, 000 francs. For Maho, who is the correspondent of Haertel (who pays me well) might, knowing that I sell my compositions for so little in Paris, make me lower my price in Germany. I torment you much with my affairs. It is only in case Schlesinger persists in his intention not to publish this month. If you think Lemoine would give 800 francs for the two works, ask them. I do not mention THE PRICE to him so as to leave you complete freedom. I have no time to lose before the departure of the mail. I embrace you, dear brother--write me a line. --Yours devotedly, Chopin. 

 My regards to Madame. A thousand kisses to your children. 

 Nohant, Monday, August 4 [1844]. 

 Dearest, --I relied indeed on your friendship--therefore the celerity with which you have arranged the Schlesinger affair for me does not surprise me at all. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and await the moment when I shall be able to do as much for you. I imagine all is well in your home-- that Madame Franchomme and your dear children are well--and that you love me as I love you. --Yours devotedly, F. CH. 

 Madame Sand embraces your dear big darling [fanfan], and sends you a hearty grasp of the hand. 

 Chateau de Nohant, September 20, 1844. 

 Dearest, --If I did not write you before, it was because I thought I should see you again this week in Paris. My departure being postponed, I send you a line for Schlesinger so that he may remit to you the price of my last manuscripts, that is to say, 600 francs (100 of which you will keep for me). I hope he will do it without making any difficulty about it--if not, ask him at once for a line in reply (without getting angry), send it to me, and I shall write immediately to M. Leo to have the 500 francs you had the kindness to lend me remitted to you before the end of the month. 

 What shall I say? I often think of our last evening spent with my dear sister. [FOOTNOTE: His sister Louise, who had been on a visit to him. ] How glad she was to hear you! She wrote to me about it since from Strasburg, and asked me to remember her to you and Madame Franchomme. I hope you are all well, and that I shall find you so. Write to me, and love me as I love you. Your old

 [A scrawl. ]

 A thousand compliments to Madame. I embrace your dear children. A thousand compliments from Madame Sand. 

 [Date. ]

 I send you also a receipt for Schlesinger which you will give up to him for the money only. Once more, do not be vexed if he makes any difficulties. I embrace you. 

 C. 

 August 30, 1845. 

 Very dear friend, --Here are three manuscripts for Brandus, [FOOTNOTE: Brandus, whose name here appears for the first time in Chopin's letters, was the successor of Schlesinger. ] and three for Maho, who will remit to you Haertel's price for them (1, 500 francs). Give the manuscripts only at the moment of payment. Send a note for 500 francs in your next letter, and keep the rest for me. I give you much trouble, I should like to spare you it--but--but----. 

 Ask Maho not to change the manuscripts destined for Haertel, because, as I shall not correct the Leipzig proofs, it is important that my copy should be clear. Also ask Brandus to send me two proofs, one of which I may keep. 

 Now, how are you? and Madame Franchomme and her dear children? I know you are in the country--(if St. Germain may be called country)--that ought to do you all infinite good in the fine weather which we continue to have. Look at my erasures! I should not end if I were to launch out into a chat with you, and I have not time to resume my letter, for Eug. Delacroix, who wishes much to take charge of my message for you, leaves immediately. He is the most admirable artist possible--I have spent delightful times with him. He adores Mozart--knows all his operas by heart. 

 Decidedly I am only making blots to-day--pardon me for them. Au revoir, dear friend, I love you always, and I think of you every day. 

 Give my kind regards to Madame Franchomme, and embrace the dear children. 

 September 22, 1845. 

 Very dear friend, --I thank you with all my heart for all your journeys after Maho, and your letter which I have just received with the money. The day of the publication seems to me good, and I have only to ask you again not to let Brandus fall asleep on my account or over my accounts. 

 Nohant, July 8, 1846. 

 Very dear friend, --It was not because I did not think of it that I have not written to you sooner, but because I wished to send you at the same time my poor manuscripts, which are not yet finished. In the meantime here is a letter for M. Brandus. When you deliver it to him, be so kind as to ask him for a line in reply, which you will have the goodness to send to me; because if any unforeseen event occurs, I shall have to apply to Meissonnier, their offers being equal. 

 My good friend, --I am doing my utmost to work, but I do not get on; and if this state of things continues, my new productions will no longer remind people either of the WARBLING OF LINNETS [gazouillement des fauvettes] [FOOTNOTE: This is an allusion to a remark which somebody made on his compositions. ] or even of BROKEN CHINA [porcelaine cassee]. I must resign myself. 

 Write to me. I love you as much as ever. 

 A thousand kind regards to Madame Franchomme, and many compliments from my sister Louise. I embrace your dear children. 

 [Date. ]

 Madame Sand begs to be remembered to you and Madame Franchomme. 

 Chateau de Nohant, near La Chatre, September 17, 1846. 

 Very dear friend, --I am very sorry that Brandus is away, and that Maho is not yet in a position to receive the manuscripts that he has so often asked me for this winter. One must therefore wait; meanwhile I beg you will be so kind as to go back AS SOON as you judge it possible, for I should not now like this to be a long business, having sent my copy to London at the same time as to you. Do not tell them this--if they are CLEVER tradesmen [marchands habiles] they may cheat me like honest people [en honnetes gens]. As this is all my present fortune I should prefer the affair to turn out differently. Also have the kindness not to consign my manuscripts to them without receiving the money agreed upon, and send me immediately a note for 500 francs in your letter. You will keep the rest for me till my arrival in Paris, which will take place probably in the end of October. I thank you a thousand times, dear friend, for your good heart and friendly offers. Keep your millions for me till another time--is it not already too much to dispose of your time as I do?

 [Here follow compliments to and friendly enquiries after Franchomme's family. ]

 Madame Sand sends you a thousand compliments and desires to be remembered to Madame Franchomme. 

 [Date. ]

 I shall answer Madame Rubio. [FOOTNOTE: Nee Vera de Kologriwof, a pupil of Chopin's and teacher of music in Paris; she married Signor Rubio, an artist, and died in the summer of 1880 at Florence. ] If Mdlle. Stirling [FOOTNOTE: A Scotch lady and pupil of Chopin's; I shall have to say more about her by- and-by. Madame Erskine was her elder sister. ] is at St. Germain, do not forget to remember me to her, also to Madame Erskine. 

This will be the proper place to mention the compositions of theyears 1842-47, about the publication of many of which we haveread so much in the above letters. There is no new publication tobe recorded in 1842. The publications of 1843 were: in February--Op. 51, Allegro vivace, Troisieme Impromptu (G flat major), dedicated to Madame la Comtesse Esterhazy; in December--Op. 52, Quatrieme Ballade (F minor), dedicated to Madame la Baronne C. DeRothschild; Op. 53, Huitieme Polonaise (A flat major), dedicatedto Mr. A. Leo; and Op. 54, Scherzo, No. 4 (E major), dedicated toMdlle. J. De Caraman. Those of 1844 were: in August--Op. 55, DeuxNocturnes (F minor and E flat major), dedicated to Mdlle. J. H. Stirling; and Op. 56, Trois Mazurkas (A minor, A flat major, andF sharp minor), dedicated to Mdlle. C. Maberly. Those of 1845: inMay--Op. 57, Berceuse (D flat major), dedicated to Mdlle. EliseGavard; and in June--Op. 58, Sonate (B minor), dedicated toMadame la Comtesse E. De Perthuis. Those of 1846: in April--Op. 59, Trois Mazurkas (A minor, A flat major, and F sharp minor);and in September--Op. 60, Barcarole (F sharp major), dedicated toMadame la Baronne de Stockhausen; Op. 61, Polonaise-Fantaisie (Aflat major), dedicated to Madame A. Veyret; and Op. 62, DeuxNocturnes (B major and E major), dedicated to Mdlle. R. DeKonneritz. Those of 1847: in September--Op. 63, Trois Mazurkas (Bmajor, F minor, and C sharp minor), dedicated to Madame laComtesse L. Czosnowska, and Op. 64, Trois Valses (D flat major, Csharp minor, and A flat major), respectively dedicated to Madamela Comtesse Delphine Potocka, Madame la Baronne Nathaniel deRothschild, and Madame la Baronne Bronicka; and lastly, inOctober--Op. 65, Sonate (G minor), pour piano et violoncelle, dedicated to Mr. A. Franchomme. 

From 1838 to 1846 Chopin passed regularly every year, with theexception of 1840, three or four months at Nohant. The musicalpapers announced Chopin's return to town sometimes at thebeginning of October, sometimes at the beginning of November. In1844 he must either have made a longer stay at Nohant than usualor paid it a visit during the winter, for in the "Gazettemusicale" of January 5, 1845, we read: "Chopin has returned toParis and brought with him a new grand Sonata and variantes. These two important works will soon be published. "

[FOOTNOTE: The new Sonata here mentioned is the one in B minor, Op. 58, which was published in June, 1845. As to the other itemmentioned, I am somewhat puzzled. Has the word to be taken in itsliteral sense of "various readings, " i. E. , new readings of worksalready known (the context, however, does not favour thissupposition), or does it refer to the ever-varying evolutions ofthe Berceuse, Op. 57. Published in May, 1845, or, lastly, is itsimply a misprint?]

George Sand generally prolonged her stay at Nohant till prettyfar into the winter, much to the sorrow of her malade ordinaire(thus Chopin used to style himself), who yearned for her returnto Paris. 

According to Liszt, the country and the vie de chateau pleasedChopin so much that for the sake of enjoying them he put up withcompany that did not please him at all. George Sand has adifferent story to tell. She declares that the retired life andthe solemnity of the country agreed neither with Chopin'sphysical nor with his moral health; that he loved the countryonly for a fortnight, after which he bore it only out ofattachment to her; and that he never felt regret on leaving it. Whether Chopin loved country life or not, whether he liked GeorgeSand's Berry friends and her guests from elsewhere or not, we maybe sure that he missed Paris and his accustomed Paris society. 

"Of all the troubles I had not to endure but to contend against, the sufferings of my malade ordinaire were not the least, " saysGeorge Sand. "Chopin always wished for Nohant, and never couldbear it. " And, speaking of the later years, when the havoc madein Chopin's constitution by the inroads of his malady showeditself more and more, she remarks: "Nohant had become repugnantto him. His return in the spring still filled him with ecstaticjoy for a short time. But as soon as he began to work everythinground him assumed a gloomy aspect. "

Before we peep into Chopin's room and watch him at work, let ussee what the chateau of Nohant and life there were like. "Therailway through the centre of France went in those days [August, 1846] no further than Vierzon, " [FOOTNOTE: The opening of theextension of the line to Chateauroux was daily expected at thattime. ] writes Mr. Matthew Arnold in an account of a visit paid byhim to George Sand:--

 From Vierzon to Chateauroux one travelled by an ordinary diligence, from Chateauroux to La Chatre by a humbler diligence, from La Chatre to Broussac by the humblest diligence cf. All. At Broussac diligence ended, and PATACHE began. Between Chateauroux and La Chatre, a mile or two before reaching the latter place, the road passes by the village of Nohant. The chateau of Nohant, in which Madame Sand lived, is a plain house by the roadside, with a walled garden. Down in the meadows not far off flows the Indre, bordered by trees. 

The Chateau of Nohant is indeed, as Mr. Matthew Arnold says, aplain house, only the roof with its irregularly distributeddormars and chimney-stacks of various size giving to it a touchof picturesqueness. On the other hand, the ground-floor, with itscentral door flanked on each side by three windows, and the sevenwindowed story above, impresses one with the sense ofspaciousness. 

Liszt, speaking of a three months' stay at Nohant made by himselfand his friend the Comtesse d'Agoult in the summer of 1837--i. E. , before the closer connection of George Sand and Chopin began--relates that the hostess and her guests spent the days in readinggood books, receiving letters from absent friends, taking longwalks on the banks of the Indre, and in other equally simpleoccupations and amusements. In the evenings they assembled on theterrace. There, where the light of the lamps cast fantasticshadows on the neighbouring trees, they sat listening to themurmuring of the river and the warbling of the nightingales, andbreathing in the sweet perfume of the lime-trees and the strongerscent of the larches till the Countess would exclaim: "There youare again dreaming, you incorrigible artists! Do you not knowthat the hour for working has come?" And then George Sand wouldgo and write at the book on which she was engaged, and Lisztwould betake himself to the old scores which he was studying witha view to discover some of the great masters' secrets. [FOOTNOTE:Liszt. "Essays and Reisebriefe eines Baccalaureus der Tonkunst. "Vol. II. , pp. 146 and 147 of the collected works. ]

Thus was Nohant in quiet days. But the days at Nohant were by nomeans always quiet. For George Sand was most hospitable, keptindeed literally open house for her friends, and did soregardless of credit and debit. The following passage from aletter written by her in 1840 from Paris to her half-brotherHippolyte Chatiron gives us a good idea of the state of matters:--

 If you will guarantee my being able to pass the summer at Nohant for 4, 000 francs, I will go. But I have never been there without spending 1, 500 francs per month, and as I do not spend here the half of this, it is neither the love of work, nor that of spending, nor that of GLORY, which makes me stay. I do not know whether I have been pillaged; but I am at a loss how to avoid it with my nonchalance, in so vast a house, and so easy a kind of life as that of Nohant. Here I can see clearly; everything is done under my eyes as I understand and wish it. At Nohant--let this remain between us--you know that before I am up a dozen people have often made themselves at home in the house. What can I do? Were I to pose as a good manager [econome] they would accuse me of stinginess; were I to let things go on, I should not be able to provide for them. Try if you can find a remedy for this. 

In George Sand's letters many glimpses may be caught of the lifeat Nohant. To some of them I have already drawn the reader'sattention in preceding chapters; now I shall point out a fewmore. 

 George Sand to Madame Marliani; Nohant, August 13, 1841:--

 I have had all my nights absorbed by work and fatigue. I have passed all my days with Pauline [Viardot] in walking, playing at billiards, and all this makes me so entirely go out of my indolent character and lazy habits that, at night, instead of working quickly, I fall stupidly asleep at every line. .. . Viardot [Louis Viardot, the husband of Pauline] passes his days in poaching with my brother and Papet; for the shooting season has not yet begun, and they brave the laws, divine and human. Pauline reads with Chopin whole scores at the piano. She is always good-natured and charming, as you know her. 

 George Sand to Mdlle. Rozieres: Nohant, October 15, 1841:--

 Papet is in the depths of the forests; in "Erymanthe" at least, hunting the wild boar. Chopin is in Paris, and he has relapsed, as he says, into his triples croches [demisemiquavers]. 

 George Sand to Mdlle. Rozieres; Nohant, May 9, 1842:--

 Quick to work! Your master, the great Chopin, has forgotten (that for which he nevertheless cares a great deal) to buy a beautiful present for Francoise, my faithful servant, whom he adores, and he is very right. 

 He begs of you therefore to send him, IMMEDIATELY, four yards of lace, two fingers broad at least, within the price of ten francs a yard; further, a shawl of whatever material you like, within the price of forty francs. .. . This, then, is the superb present which your HONOURED MASTER asks you to get for him, with an eagerness worthy of the ardour which he carries into his gifts, and of the impatience which he puts into little things. 

Charles Rollinat, a friend of George Sand's, the brother of oneof George Sand's most intimate and valued friends, FrancoisRollinat, published in "Le Temps" (September 1, 1874) a charming"Souvenir de Nohant, " which shows us the the chateau astir with amore numerous company:--

 The hospitality there [he writes] was comfortable, and the freedom absolute. There were guns and dogs for those who loved hunting, boats and nets for those who loved fishing, a splendid garden to walk in. Everyone did as he liked. Liszt and Chopin composed; Pauline Garcia studied her role of the "Prophete"; the mistress of the house wrote a romance or a drama; and it was the same with the others. At six o'clock they assembled again to dine, and did not part company till two or three o'clock in the morning. Chopin rarely played. He could only be prevailed upon to play when he was sure of perfection. Nothing in the world would have made him consent to play indifferently. Liszt, on the contrary, played always, well or badly. 

[FOOTNOTE: Charles Rollinat, a younger brother of Francois, wentafterwards to Russia, where, according to George Sand (see letterto Edmond Plauchut, April 8, 1874), he was for twenty-five years"professeur de musique et haut enseignement, avec une bonne placedu gouvernement. " He made a fortune and lost it, retaining onlyenough to live upon quietly in Italy. He tried then to supplementhis scanty income by literary work (translations from theRussian). George Sand, recalling the days of long ago, says: "Ilchantait comme on ne chante plus, excepte Pauline [Viardot-Garcia]!"]

Unfortunately, the greater portion of M. Rollinat's so-calledSouvenir consists of "poetry WITHOUT truth. " Nevertheless, wewill not altogether ignore his pretty stories. 

One evening when Liszt played a piece of Chopin's withembellishments of his own, the composer became impatient and atlast, unable to restrain himself any longer, walked up to Lisztand said with his ENGLISH PHLEGM:--

 "I beg of you, my dear friend, if you do me the honour to play a piece of mine, to play what is written, or to play something else. It is only Chopin who has the right to alter Chopin. "

 "Well! play yourself!" said Liszt, rising from his seat a little irritated, "With pleasure, " said Chopin. 

 At that moment a moth extinguished the lamp. Chopin would not have it relighted, and played in the dark. When he had finished his delighted auditors overwhelmed him with compliments, and Liszt said:

 "Ah, my friend, you were right! The works of a genius like you are sacred; it is a profanation to meddle with them. You are a true poet, and I am only a mountebank. "

 Whereupon Chopin replied: "We have each our genre. "

M. Rollinat then proceeds to tell his readers that Chopin, believing he had eclipsed Liszt that evening, boasted of it, andsaid: "How vexed he was!" It seems that the author felt that thispart of the story put a dangerously severe strain on thecredulity of his readers, for he thinks it necessary to assurethem that these were the ipsissima verba of Chopin. Well, thewords in question came to the ears of Liszt, and he resolved atonce to have his revenge. 

Five days afterwards the friends were again assembled in the sameplace and at the same time. Liszt asked Chopin to play, and hadall the lights put out and all the curtains drawn; but whenChopin was going to the piano, Liszt whispered something in hisear and sat down in his stead. He played the same compositionwhich Chopin had played on the previous occasion, and theaudience was again enchanted. At the end of the piece Lisztstruck a match and lighted the candles which stood on the piano. Of course general stupefaction ensued. 

 "What do you say to it?" said Liszt to his rival. "I say what everyone says; I too believed it was Chopin. " "You see, " said the virtuoso rising, "that Liszt can be Chopin when he likes; but could Chopin be Liszt?"

Instead of commenting on the improbability of a generous artistthus cruelly taunting his sensitive rival, I shall simply saythat Liszt had not the slightest recollection of ever havingimitated Chopin's playing in a darkened room. There may be someminute grains of truth mixed up with all this chaff of fancy--Chopin's displeasure at the liberties Liszt took with hiscompositions was no doubt one of them--but it is impossible toseparate them. 

M. Rollinat relates also how in 184-, when Chopin, Liszt, theComtesse d'Agoult, Pauline Garcia, Eugene Delacroix, the actorBocage, and other celebrities were at Nohant, the piano was onemoonlit night carried out to the terrace; how Liszt played thehunting chorus from Weber's Euryanthe, Chopin some bars from animpromptu he was then composing; how Pauline Garcia sang Nel corpiu non mi sento, and a niece of George Sand a popular air; howthe echo answered the musicians; and how after the music thecompany, which included also a number of friends from theneighbouring town, had punch and remained together till dawn. Buthere again M. Rollinat's veracity is impugned on all sides. Madame Viardot-Garcia declares that she was never at Nohant whenLiszt was there; and Liszt did not remember having played on theterrace of the chateau. Moreover, seeing that the firstperformance of the Prophete took place on April 16, 1849, is itlikely that Madame Pauline Garcia was studying her part before orin 1846? And unless she did so she could not meet Chopin atNohant when she was studying it. 

M. Rollinat is more trustworthy when he tells us that there was apretty theatre and quite an assortment of costumes at thechateau; that the dramas and comedies played there wereimprovised by the actors, only the subject and the division intoscenes being given; and that on two pianos, concealed bycurtains, one on the right and one on the left of the stage, Chopin and Liszt improvised the musical part of theentertainment. All this is, however, so much better and so muchmore fully told by George Sand (in Dernieres Pages: Le Theatredes Marionnettes de Nohant) that we will take our informationfrom her. It was in the long nights of a winter that sheconceived the plan of these private theatricals in imitation ofthe comedia dell' arte--namely, of "pieces the improviseddialogue of which followed a written sketch posted up behind thescenes. "

 They resembled the charades which are acted in society and which are more or less developed according to the ensemble and the talent of the performers. We had begun with these. By degrees the word of the charade disappeared and we played first mad saynetes, then comedies of intrigues and adventures, and finally dramas of incidents and emotions. The whole thing began by pantomime, and this was of Chopin's invention; he occupied the place at the piano and improvised, while the young people gesticulated scenes and danced comic ballets. I leave you to imagine whether these now wonderful, now charming improvisations quickened the brains and made supple the legs of our performers. He led them as he pleased and made them pass, according to his fancy, from the droll to the severe, from the burlesque to the solemn, from the graceful to the passionate. We improvised costumes in order to play successively several roles. As soon as the artist saw them appear, he adapted his theme and his accent in a marvellous manner to their respective characters. This went on for three evenings, and then the master, setting out for Paris, left us thoroughly stirred up, enthusiastic, and determined not to suffer the spark which had electrified us to be lost. 

To get away from the quicksands of Souvenirs--for George Sand'spages, too, were written more than thirty years after theoccurrences she describes, and not published till 1877--I shallmake some extracts from the contemporaneous correspondence ofGeorge Sand's great friend, the celebrated painter EugeneDelacroix. [FOOTNOTE: Lettres de Eugene Delacroix (1815 a 1863)recucillies et publiees par M. Philippe Burty. Paris, 1878. ] Thereader cannot fail to feel at once the fresh breeze of realitythat issues from these letters, which contain vivid sketches fullof natural beauties and free from affectation and striving aftereffect:--

 Nohant, June 7, 1842. 

 . .. The place is very pleasant, and the hosts do their utmost to please me. When we are not assembled to dine, breakfast, play at billiards, or walk, we are in our rooms, reading, or resting on our sofas. Now and then there come to you through the window opening on the garden, whiffs of the music of Chopin, who is working in his room; this mingles with the song of the nightingales and the odour of the roses. You see that so far I am not much to be pitied, and, nevertheless, work must come to give the grain of salt to all this. This life is too easy, I must purchase it with a little racking of my brains; and like the huntsman who eats with more appetite when he has got his skin torn by bushes, one must strive a little after ideas in order to feel the charm of doing nothing. 

 Nohant, June 14, 1842. 

 . .. Although I am in every respect most agreeably circumstanced, both as regards body and mind, for I am in much better health, I have not been able to prevent myself from thinking of work. How strange! this work is fatiguing, and yet the species of activity it gives to the mind is necessary to the body itself. In vain did I try to get up a passion for billiards, in which I receive a lesson every day, in vain have I good conversations on all the subjects that please me, music that I seize on the wing and by whiffs, I have felt the need of doing something. I have begun a Sainte-Anne for the parish, and I have already set it agoing. 

 Nohant, June 22, 1842. 

 . .. Pen and ink certainly become more and more repugnant to me. I have no more than you any event to record. I lead a monastic life, and as monotonous as it well can be. No event varies the course of it. We expected Balzac, who has not come, and I am not sorry. He is a babbler who would have destroyed this harmony of NONCHALANCE which I am enjoying thoroughly; at intervals a little painting, billiards, and walking, that is more than is necessary to fill up the days. There is not even the distraction of neighbours and friends from the environs; in this part of the country everyone remains at home and occupies him self with his oxen and his land. One would become a fossil here in a very short time. 

 I have interminable private interviews with Chopin, whom I love much, and who is a man of a rare distinction; he is the most true artist I have met. He is one of the few one can admire and esteem. Madame Sand suffers frequently from violent headaches and pains in her eyes, which she tries to master as much as possible and with much strength of will, so as not to weary us with what she suffers. 

 The greatest event of my stay has been a peasants' ball on the lawn of the chateau with the best bagpipers of the place. The people of this part of the country present a remarkable type of gentleness and good nature; ugliness is rare here, though beauty is not often seen, but there is not that kind of fever which is observable in the peasants of the environs of Paris. All the women have the appearance of those sweet faces one sees only in the pictures of the old masters. They are all Saint Annes. 

Amidst the affectations, insincerities, and superficialities ofChopin's social intercourse, Delacroix's friendship--we havealready seen that the musician reciprocated the painter'ssentiments--stands out like a green oasis in a barren desert. When, on October 28, 1849, a few days after Chopin's death, Delacroix sent a friend a ticket for the funeral service of thedeceased, he speaks of him as "my poor and dear Chopin. " But thesincerity of Delacroix's esteem and the tenderness of his lovefor Chopin are most fully revealed in some lines of a letterwhich he wrote on January 7, 1861, to Count Czymala [Grzymala]:--

 When I have finished [the labours that took up all his time], I shall let you know, and shall see you again, with the pleasure I have always had, and with the feelings your kind letter has reanimated in me. With whom shall I speak of the incomparable genius whom heaven has envied the earth, and of whom I dream often, being no longer able to see him in this world nor to hear his divine harmonies. 

 If you see sometimes the charming Princess Marcelline [Czartoryska], another object of my respect, place at her feet the homage of a poor man who has not ceased to be full of the memory of her kindnesses and of admiration for her talent, another bond of union with the seraph whom we have lost and who, at this hour, charms the celestial spheres. 

The first three of the above extracts from Delacroix's lettersenable us to form a clear idea of what the everyday life atNohant was like, and after reading them we can easily imaginethat its monotony must have had a depressing effect on thecompany-loving Chopin. But the drawback was counterbalanced by anadvantage. At Paris most of Chopin's time was occupied withteaching and the pleasures of society, at Nohant he could devotehimself undisturbed and undistracted to composition. And there ismore than sufficient evidence to prove that in this respectChopin utilised well the quiet and leisure of his ruralretirement. 

Few things excite the curiosity of those who have a taste for artand literature so much as an artist's or poet's mode of creation. With what interest, for instance, do we read Schindler's accountof how Beethoven composed his Missa Solemnis--of the master'sabsolute detachment from the terrestrial world during the time hewas engaged on this work; of his singing, shouting, and stamping, when he was in the act of giving birth to the fugue of the Credo!But as regards musicians, we know, generally speaking, verylittle on the subject; and had not George Sand left us herreminiscences, I should not have much to tell the reader aboutChopin's mode of creation. From Gutmann I learned that his masterworked long before he put a composition to paper, but when it wasonce in writing did not keep it long in his portfolio. The latterpart of this statement is contradicted by a remark of the better-informed Fontana, who, in the preface to Chopin's posthumousworks, says that the composer, whether from caprice ornonchalance, had the habit of keeping his manuscripts sometimes avery long time in his portfolio before giving them to the public. As George Sand observed the composer with an artist's eye andinterest, and had, of course, better opportunities than anybodyelse to observe him, her remarks are particularly valuable. Shewrites:--

 His creation was spontaneous and miraculous. He found it without seeking it, without foreseeing it. It came on his piano suddenly, complete, sublime, or it sang in his head during a walk, and he was impatient to play it to himself. But then began the most heart-rending labour I ever saw. It was a series of efforts, of irresolutions, and of frettings to seize again certain details of the theme he had heard; what he had conceived as a whole he analysed too much when wishing to write it, and his regret at not finding it again, in his opinion, clearly defined, threw him into a kind of despair. He shut himself up in his room for whole days, weeping, walking, breaking his pens, repeating and altering a bar a hundred times, writing and effacing it as many times, and recommencing the next day with a minute and desperate perseverance. He spent six weeks over a single page to write it at last as he had noted it down at the very first. 

 I had for a long time been able to make him consent to trust to this first inspiration. But when he was no longer disposed to believe me, he reproached me gently with having spoiled him and with not being severe enough for him. I tried to amuse him, to take him out for walks. Sometimes, taking away all my brood in a country char a bancs, I dragged him away in spite of himself from this agony. I took him to the banks of the Creuse, and after being for two or three days lost amid sunshine and rain in frightful roads, we arrived, cheerful and famished, at some magnificently-situated place where he seemed to revive. These fatigues knocked him up the first day, but he slept. The last day he was quite revived, quite rejuvenated in returning to Nohant, and he found the solution of his work without too much effort; but it was not always possible to prevail upon him to leave that piano which was much oftener his torment than his joy, and by degrees he showed temper when I disturbed him. I dared not insist. Chopin when angry was alarming, and as, with me, he always restrained himself, he seemed almost to choke and die. 

A critic remarks in reference to this account that Chopin's modeof creation does not show genius, but only passion. From which wemay conclude that he would not, like Carlyle, have defined geniusas the power of taking infinite pains. To be sure, the greatScotchman's definition is inadequate, but nothing is more falsethan the popular notion that the great authors throw off theirworks with the pleasantest ease, that creation is an act of pureenjoyment. Beethoven's sketch-books tell a different story; so doalso Balzac's proof-sheets and the manuscripts of Pope's versionof the Iliad and Odyssey in the British Museum. Dr. Johnsonspeaking of Milton's MSS. Observed truly: "Such reliques show howexcellence is acquired. " Goethe in writing to Schiller asks himto return certain books of "Wilhelm Meister" that he may go overthem A FEW TIMES before sending them to the press. And on re-reading one of these books he cut out one third of its contents. Moreover, if an author writes with ease, this is not necessarilya proof that he labours little, for he may finish the work beforebringing it to paper. Mozart is a striking instance. He hashimself described his mode of composing--which was a process ofaccumulation, agglutination, and crystallisation--in a letter toa friend. The constitution of the mind determines the mode ofworking. Some qualities favour, others obstruct the realisationof a first conception. Among the former are acuteness andquickness of vision, the power of grasping complex subjects, anda good memory. But however varied the mode of creation may be, analmost unvarying characteristic of the production of reallyprecious and lasting artwork is ungrudging painstaking, such aswe find described in William Hunt's "Talks about Art":--"If youcould see me dig and groan, rub it out and start again, hatemyself and feel dreadfully! The people who do things easily, their things you look at easily, and give away easily. " Lastlyand briefly, it is not the mode of working, but the result ofthis working which demonstrates genius. 

As Chopin disliked the pavilion in the Rue Pigalle, George Sandmoved with her household in 1842 to the quiet, aristocratic-looking Cite (Court or Square) d'Orleans, where their friendMadame Marliani arranged for them a vie de famille. To get to theCite d'Orleans one has to pass through two gateways--the firstleads from the Rue Taitbout (close to the Rue St. Lazare), into asmall out-court with the lodge of the principal concierge; thesecond, into the court itself. In the centre is a grass plot withfour flower-beds and a fountain; and between this grass plot andthe footpath which runs along the houses extends a carriagedrive. As to the houses which form the square, they are well andhandsomely built, the block opposite the entrance making evensome architectural pretensions. Madame Sand's, Madame Marliani's, and Chopin's houses, which bore respectively the numbers 5, 4, and 3, were situated on the right side, the last-mentioned beingjust in the first right-hand corner on entering from the out-court. On account of the predilection shown for it by artists andliterary men as a place of abode, the Court d'Orldans has notinaptly been called a little Athens. Alexander Dumas was one ofthe many celebrities who lived there at one time or other; andChopin had for neighbours the famous singer Pauline Viardot-Garcia, the distinguished pianoforte-professor Zimmermann, andthe sculptor Dantan, from whose famous gallery of caricatures, orrather charges, the composer's portrait was not absent. MadameMarliani, the friend of George Sand and Chopin, who has alreadyrepeatedly been mentioned in this book, was the wife of ManuelMarliani, Spanish Consul in Paris, author, [FOOTNOTE: Especiallynotable among his political and historical publications inSpanish and French is: "Histoire politique de l'Espagne modernesuivie d'un apercu sur les finances. " 2 vols. In 8vo (Paris, 1840). ] politician, and subsequently senator. Lenz says thatMadame Marliani was a Spanish countess and a fine lady; andGeorge Sand describes her as good-natured and active, endowedwith a passionate head and maternal heart, but destined to beunhappy because she wished to make the reality of life yield tothe ideal of her imagination and the exigences of hersensibility. 

Some excerpts from a letter written by George Sand on November12, 1842, to her friend Charles Duvernet, and a passage from MaVie will bring scene and actors vividly before us:--

 We also cultivate billiards; I have a pretty little table, which I hire for twenty francs a month, in my salon, and thanks to kind friendships we approach Nohant life as much as is possible in this melancholy Paris. What makes things country-like also is that I live in the same square as the family Marliani, Chopin in the next pavilion, so that without leaving this large well-lighted and sanded Court d'Orleans, we run in the evening from one to another like good provincial neighbours. We have even contrived to have only one pot [marmite], and eat all together at Madame Marliani's, which is more economical and by far more lively than taking one's meals at home. It is a kind of phalanstery which amuses us, and where mutual liberty is much better guaranteed than in that of the Fourierists. .. 

 Solange is at a boarding-school, and comes out every Saturday to Monday morning. Maurice has resumed the studio con furia, and I, I have resumed Consuelo like a dog that is being whipped; for I have idled on account of my removal and the fitting up of my apartments. .. 

 Kind regards and shakes of the hand from Viardot, Chopin, and my children. 

The passge [sic: passage] from Ma Vie, which contains somerepetitions along with a few additional touches, runs as follows:--

 She [Madame Marliani] had fine apartments between the two we [George Sand and Chopin] occupied. We had only a large planted and sanded and always clean court to cross in order to meet, sometimes, in her rooms, sometimes in mine, sometimes in Chopin's when he was inclined to give us some music. We dined with her at common expense. It was a very good association, economical like all associations, and enabled one to see society at Madame Marliani's, my friends more privately in my apartments, and to take up my work at the hour when it suited me to withdraw. Chopin rejoiced also at having a fine, isolated salon where he could go to compose or to dream. But he loved society, and made little use of his sanctuary except to give lessons in it. 

Although George Sand speaks only of a salon, Chopin's officialresidence, as we may call it, consisted of several rooms. Theywere elegantly furnished and always adorned with flowers--for heloved le luxe and had the coquetterie des appartements. 

[FOOTNOTE: When I visited in 1880 M. Kwiatkowski in Paris, heshowed me some Chopin relics: 1, a pastel drawing by JulesCoignet (representing Les Pyramides d'Egypte), which hung alwaysabove the composer's piano; 2, a little causeuse which Chopinbought with his first Parisian savings; 3, an embroidered easy-chair worked and presented to him by the Princess Czartoiyska;and 4, an embroidered cushion worked and presented to him byMadame de Rothschild. If we keep in mind Chopin's remarks abouthis furniture and the papering of his rooms, and add to the above-mentioned articles those which Karasowski mentions as having beenbought by Miss Stirling after the composer's death, left by herto his mother, and destroyed by the Russians along with hisletters in 1861 when in possession of his sister IsabellaBarcinska--his portrait by Ary Scheffer, some Sevres porcelainwith the inscription "Offert par Louis Philippe a FredericChopin, " a fine inlaid box, a present from one of the Rothschildfamily, carpets, table-cloths, easy-chairs, &c. , worked by hispupils--we can form some sort of idea of the internalarrangements of the pianist-composer's rooms. ]

Nevertheless, they exhibited none of the splendour which was tobe found in the houses of many of the celebrities then living inParis. "He observed, " remarks Liszt, "on this point as well as inthe then so fashionable elegancies of walking-sticks, pins, studs, and jewels, the instinctive line of the comme il fautbetween the too much and the too little. " But Chopin's letterswritten from Nohant in 1839 to Fontana have afforded the readersufficient opportunities to make himself acquainted with themaster's fastidiousness and good taste in matters of furnitureand room decoration, above all, his horror of vulgar gaudiness. 

Let us try to get some glimpses of Chopin in his new home. Lindsay Sloper, who--owing, no doubt, to a great extent at least, to the letter of recommendation from Moscheles which he broughtwith him--had got permission from Chopin to come for a lesson asoften as he liked at eight o'clock in the morning, found themaster at that hour not in deshabille, but dressed with thegreatest care. Another early pupil, M. Mathias, always fell inwith the daily-attending barber. M. Mathias told me also ofChopin's habit of leaning with his back against the mantel-piecewhile he was chatting at the end of the lesson. It must have beena pretty sight to see the master in this favourite attitude ofhis, his coat buttoned up to the chin (this was his usual style), the most elegant shoes on his small feet, faultless exquisitenesscharacterising the whole of his attire, and his small eyessparkling with esprit and sometimes with malice. 

Of all who came in contact with Chopin, however, no one made somuch of his opportunities as Lenz: some of his observations onthe pianist have already been quoted, those on the man and hissurroundings deserve likewise attention. [FOOTNOTE: W. Von Lenz:"Die Grossen Pianoforte-Virtuosen unserer Zeit. "] Lenz came toParis in the summer or autumn of the year 1842; and as he wishedto study Chopin's mazurkas with the master himself, he awaitedimpatiently his return from Nohant. At last, late in October, Lenz heard from Liszt that Chopin had arrived in town; but Liszttold him also that it was by no means an easy thing to getlessons from Chopin, that indeed many had journeyed to Paris forthe purpose and failed even to get sight of him. To guard Lenzagainst such a mishap, Liszt gave him a card with the words"Laissez passer, Franz Liszt" on it, and advised him to call onChopin at two o'clock. The enthusiastic amateur was not slow inavailing himself of his artist friend's card and advice. But onreaching his destination he was met in the anteroom by a maleservant--"an article of luxury in Paris, a rarissima avis in thehouse of an artist, " observes Lenz--who informed him that Chopinwas not in town. The visitor, however, was not to be put off inthis way, and insisted that the card should be taken in toChopin. Fortune favours the brave. A moment after the servant hadleft the room the great artist made his appearance holding thecard in his hand: "a young man of middle height, slim, thin, witha careworn, speaking face and the finest Parisian tournure. "Lenz does not hesitate to declare that he hardly ever met aperson so naturally elegant and winning. But here is what tookplace at this interview. 

 Chopin did not press me to sit down [says Lenz], I stood as before a reigning sovereign. "What do you wish? a pupil of Liszt's, an artist?" "A friend of Liszt's. I wish to have the happiness of making, under your guidance, acquaintance with your mazurkas, which I regard as a literature. Some of them I have already studied with Liszt. " I felt I had been imprudent, but it was too late. "Indeed!" replied Chopin, with a drawl, but in the politest tone, "what do you want me for then? Please play to me what you have played with Liszt, I have still a few minutes at my disposal"--he drew from his fob an elegant, small watch--"I was on the point of going out, I had told my servant to admit nobody, pardon me!"

Lenz sat down at the piano, tried the gue of it--an expression atwhich Chopin, who was leaning languidly on the piano and lookingwith his intelligent eyes straight in his visitor's face, smiled--and then struck up the Mazurka in B flat major. When he came toa passage in which Liszt had taught him to introduce a volatathrough two octaves, Chopin whispered blandly:--

 "This TRAIT is not your own; am I right? HE has shown it you-- he must meddle with everything; well! he may do it, he plays before THOUSANDS, I rarely before ONE. Well, this will do, I will give you lessons, but only twice a week, I never give more, it is difficult for me to find three-quarters of an hour. " He again looked at his watch. "What do you read then? With what do you occupy yourself generally?" This was a question for which I was well prepared. "George Sand and Jean Jacques I prefer to all other writers, " said I quickly. He smiled, he was most beautiful at that moment. "Liszt has told you this. I see, you are initiated, so much the better. Only be punctual, with me things go by the clock, my house is a pigeon-house (pigeonnier). I see already we shall become more intimate, a recommendation from Liszt is worth something, you are the first pupil whom he has recommended to me; we are friends, we were comrades. "

Lenz had, of course, too imaginative a turn of mind to leavefacts in their native nakedness, but this tendency of his is tooapparent to need pointing out. What betrays him is the wonderfulfamily likeness of his portraits, a kind of vapid esprit, notdistantly related to silliness, with which the limner endows hisunfortunate sitters, Chopin as well as Liszt and Tausig. Indeed, the portraits compared with the originals are like Dresden chinafigures compared with Greek statuary. It seems to me also veryimprobable that so perfect a gentleman as Chopin was shouldsubject a stranger to an examination as to his reading andgeneral occupation. These questions have very much the appearanceof having been invented by the narrator for the sake of theanswers. However, notwithstanding the many unmistakableembellishments, Lenz's account was worth quoting, for after allit is not without a basis of fact and truth. The followingreminiscences of the lively Russian councillor, although notwanting in exaggerations, are less open to objections:--

 I always made my appearance long before my hour and waited. One lady after another came out, one more beautiful than the other, on one occasion Mdlle. Laure Duperre, the daughter of the admiral, whom Chopin accompanied to the staircase, she was the most beautiful of all, and as straight as a palm; to her Chopin has dedicated two of his most important Nocturnes (in C minor and F sharp minor, Op. 48); she was at that time his favourite pupil. In the anteroom I often met little Filtsch, who, unfortunately, died too young, at the age of thirteen, a Hungarian and a genius. He knew how to play Chopin! Of Filtsch Liszt said in my presence at a soiree of the Comtesse d'Agoult: "When the little one begins to travel, I shall shut up my shop" (Quand le petit voyagera, je fermerai boutique). I was jealous of Filtsch, Chopin had eyes only for him. 

How high an opinion the master had of this talented pupil appearsfrom his assertion that the boy played the E minor Concertobetter than he himself. Lenz mentions Filtsch and his playing ofthe E minor Concerto only in passing in "Die grossen Pianoforte-Virtuosen unserer Zeit, " but devotes to them more of his leisurein an article which appeared in the Berliner Musikzeitung (Vol. XXVI. ), the amusing gossip of which deserves notice here onaccount of the light thrown by some of its details on Chopin'sways and the company he received in his salon. On one occasionwhen Filtsch had given his master particular satisfaction by atasteful rendering of the second solo of the first movement ofthe E minor Concerto, Chopin said: "You have played this well, myboy (mon garcon), I must try it myself. " Lenz relates that whatnow followed was indescribable: the little one (der Kleine) burstinto tears, and Chopin, who indeed had been telling them thestory of his artist life, said, as if speaking to himself, "Ihave loved it! I have already once played it!" Then, turning toFiltsch, he spoke these words: "Yours is a beautiful artistnature (une belle nature d'artiste), you will become a greatartist. " Whilst the youthful pianist was studying the Concertowith Chopin, he was never allowed to play more than one solo at atime, the work affecting too much the feelings of the composer, who, moreover, thought that the whole was contained in every oneof the solos; and when he at last got leave to perform the whole, an event for which he prepared himself by fasting and prayers ofthe Roman Catholic Church, and by such reading as was pointed outby his master, practising being forbidden for the time, Chopinsaid to him: "As you have now mastered the movement so well, wewill bring it to a hearing. "

The reader must understand that I do not vouch for the strictcorrectness of Lenz's somewhat melodramatic narrative; and havinggiven this warning I shall, to keep myself free from allresponsibility, simply translate the rest of what is yet to betold:--

 Chopin invited a party of ladies, George Sand was one of them, and was as quiet as a mouse; moreover, she knew nothing of music. The favoured pupils from the highest aristocracy appeared with modest demeanour and full of the most profound devotion, they glided silently, like gold-fishes in a vase, one after another into the salon, and sat down as far as possible from the piano, as Chopin liked people to do. Nobody spoke, Chopin only nodded, and shook hands with one here and there, not with all of them. The square pianoforte, which stood in his cabinet, he had placed beside the Pleyel concert grand in the salon, not without the most painful embarras to him. The most insignificant trifle affected him; he was a noli me tangere. He had said once, or rather had thought aloud: "If I saw a crack more in the ceiling, I should not be able to bring out a note. " Chopin poured the whole dreamy, vaporous instrumentation of the work into his incomparable accompaniment. He played without book. I have never heard anything that could be compared to the first tutti, which he played alone on the piano. The little one did wonders. The whole was an impression for all the rest of one's life. After Chopin had briefly dismissed the ladies (he loved praise neither for himself nor for others, and only George Sand was permitted to embrace Filtsch), he said to the latter, his brother, who always accompanied the little one, and me: "We have yet to take a walk. " It was a command which we received with the most respectful bow. 

The destination of this walk was Schlesinger's music-shop, whereChopin presented his promising young pupil with the score ofBeethoven's "Fidelio":--

 "I am in your debt, you have given me much pleasure to-day. I wrote the Concerto in happier days. Receive, my dear little friend, this great master-work; read therein as long as you live, and remember me also sometimes. " The little one was as if stunned, and kissed Chopin's hand. We were all deeply moved, Chopin himself was so. He disappeared immediately through the glass door on a level with the Rue Richelieu, into which it leads. 

A scene of a very different nature which occurred some yearslater was described to me by Madame Dubois. This lady, then stillMdlle. O'Meara and a pupil of Chopin's, had in 1847 played, accompanied on a second piano by her master, the latter'sConcerto in E minor at a party of Madame de Courbonne's. MadameGirardin, who was among the guests, afterwards wrote mostcharmingly and eulogistically about the young girl's beauty andtalent in one of her Lettres parisiennes, which appeared in LaPresse and were subsequently published in a collected form underthe title of "Le Vicomte de Launay. " Made curious by MadameGirardin's account, and probably also by remarks of Chopin andothers, George Sand wished to see the heroine of that much-talked-of letter. Thus it came to pass that one day when Miss O'Mearawas having her lesson, George Sand crossed the Square d'Orleansand paid Chopin a visit in his apartments. The master receivedher with all the grace and amiability he was capable of. Noticingthat her pardessus was bespattered with mud, he seemed to be muchvexed, and the exquisitely-elegant gentleman (l'homme de toutesles elegances ) began to rub off with his small, white hands thestains which on any other person would have caused him disgust. And Mdlle. O'Meara, child as she still was, watched what wasgoing on from the corner of her eye and thought: "Comme il aimecette femme!" [FOOTNOTE: Madame A. Audley gives an altogetherincorrect account of this incident in her FREDERIC CHOPIN. MadameGirardin was not one of the actors, and Mdlle. O'Meara did notthink the thoughts attributed to her. ]

Whenever Chopin's connection with George Sand is mentioned, onehears a great deal of the misery and nothing or little of thehappiness which accrued to him out of it. The years of tendernessand devotion are slurred over and her infidelities, growingindifference, and final desertion are dwelt upon with undueemphasis. Whatever those of Chopin's friends who were not alsoGeorge Sand's friends may say, we may be sure that his joysoutweighed his sorrows. Her resoluteness must have been aninvaluable support to so vacillating a character as Chopin's was;and, although their natures were in many respects discordant, thepoetic element of hers cannot but have found sympathetic chordsin his. Every character has many aspects, but the world is littledisposed to see more than one side of George Sand's--namely, thatwhich is most conspicuous by its defiance of law and custom, andfinds expression in loud declamation and denunciation. To observeher in one of her more lovable attitudes of mind, we willtransport ourselves from Chopin's to her salon. 

Louis Enault relates how one evening George Sand, who sometimesthought aloud when with Chopin--this being her way of chatting--spoke of the peacefulness of the country and unfolded a pictureof the rural harmonies that had all the charming and negligentgrace of a village idyl, bringing, in fact, her beloved Berry tothe fireside of the room in the Square d'Orleans. 

 "How well you have spoken!" said Chopin naively. 

 "You think so?" she replied. "Well, then, set me to music!" Hereupon Chopin improvised a veritable pastoral symphony, and George Sand placing herself beside him and laying her hand gently on his shoulder said: "Go on, velvet fingers [courage, doigts de velour]!"

Here is another anecdote of quiet home-life. George Sand had alittle dog which was in the habit of turning round and round inthe endeavour to catch its tail. One evening when it was thusengaged, she said to Chopin: "If I had your talent, I wouldcompose a pianoforte piece for this dog. " Chopin at once sat downat the piano, and improvised the charming Waltz in D flat (Op. 64), which hence has obtained the name of Valse du petit chien. This story is well known among the pupils and friends of themaster, but not always told in exactly the same way. According toanother version, Chopin improvised the waltz when the little dogwas playing with a ball of wool. This variation, however, doesnot affect the pith of the story. 

The following two extracts tell us more about the intimate home-life at Nohant and in the Court d'Orleans than anything we haveas yet met with. 

 Madame Sand to her son; October 17, 1843:--

 Tell me if Chopin is ill; his letters are short and sad. Take care of him if he is ailing. Take a little my place. He would take my place with so much zeal if you were ill. 

 Madame Sand to her son; November 16, 1843:--

 If you care for the letter which I have written you about her [Solange], ask Chopin for it. It was for both of you, and it has not given him much pleasure. He has taken it amiss, and yet I did not wish to annoy him, God forbid! We shall all see each other soon again, and hearty embraces [de bonnes bigeades] [FOOTNOTE: Biger is in the Berry dialect "to kiss. "] all round shall efface all my sermons. 

In another of George Sand's letters to her son--it is datedNovember 28, 1843--we read about Chopin's already often-mentionedvalet. Speaking of the foundation of a provincial journal, "L'Eclaireur de l'Indre, " by herself and a number of her friends, and of their being on the look-out for an editor who would becontent with the modest salary of 2, 000 francs, she says:--

 This is hardly more than the wages of Chopin's domestic, and to imagine that for this it is possible to find a man of talent! First measure of the Committee of Public Safety: we shall outlaw Chopin if he allows himself to have lackeys salaried like publicists. 

Chopin treated George Sand with the greatest respect anddevotion; he was always aux petits soins with her. It ischaracteristic of the man and exemplifies strikingly the delicacyof his taste and feeling that his demeanour in her house showedin no way the intimate relation in which he stood to the mistressof it: he seemed to be a guest like any other occasional visitor. Lenz wishes to make us believe that George Sand's treatment ofChopin was unworthy of the great artist, but his statements areemphatically contradicted by Gutmann, who says that her behaviourtowards him was always respectful. If the lively Russiancouncillor in the passages I am going to translate describescorrectly what he heard and saw, he must have witnessed anexceptional occurrence; it is, however, more likely that the badreception he received from the lady prejudiced him against her. 

Lenz relates that one day Chopin took him to the salon of MadameMarliani, where there was in the evening always a gathering offriends. 

 George Sand [thus runs his account of his first meeting with the great novelist] did not say a word when Chopin introduced me. This was rude. Just for that reason I seated myself beside her. Chopin fluttered about like a little frightened bird in its cage, he saw something was going to happen. What had he not always feared on this terrain? At the first pause in the conversation, which was led by Madame Sand's friend, Madame Viardot, the great singer whose acquaintance I was later to make in St. Petersburg, Chopin put his arm through mine and led me to the piano. Reader! if you play the piano you will imagine how I felt! It was an upright or cottage piano [Steh- oder Stutzflugel] of Pleyel's, which people in Paris regard as a pianoforte. I played the Invitation in a fragmentary fashion, Chopin gave me his hand in the most friendly manner, George Sand did not say a word. I seated myself once more beside her. I had obviously a purpose. Chopin looked anxiously at us across the table, on which was burning the inevitable carcel. 

 "Are you not coming sometime to St. Petersburg, " said I to George Sand in the most polite tone, "where you are so much read, so highly admired?"

 "I shall never lower myself by visiting a country of slaves!" answered George Sand shortly. 

 This was indecorous [unanstandig] after she had been uncivil. 

 "After all, you are right NOT to come, " I replied in the same tone; "you might find the door closed! I was thinking of the Emperor Nicholas. "

 George Sand looked at me in astonishment, I plunged boldly into her large, beautiful, brown, cow-like eyes. Chopin did not seem displeased, I knew the movements of his head. 

 Instead of giving any answer George Sand rose in a theatrical fashion, and strode in the most manly way through the salon to the blazing fire. I followed her closely, and seated myself for the third time beside her, ready for another attack. 

 She would be obliged at last to say something. 

 George Sand drew an enormously thick Trabucco cigar out of her apron pocket, and called out "Frederic! un fidibus!"

 This offended me for him, that perfect gentleman, my master; I understood Liszt's words: "Pauvre Frederic!" in all their significance. 

 Chopin immediately came up with a fidibus. 

 As she was sending forth the first terrible cloud of smoke, George Sand honoured me with a word:

 "In St. Petersburg, " she began, "I could not even smoke a cigar in a drawing-room?"

 "In NO drawing-room have I ever seen anyone smoke a cigar, Madame, " I answered, not without emphasis, with a bow!

 George Sand fixed her eyes sharply upon me--the thrust had gone home! I looked calmly around me at the good pictures in the salon, each of which was lighted up by a separate lamp. Chopin had probably heard nothing; he had returned to the hostess at the table. 

 Pauvre Frederic! How sorry I was for him, the great artist! The next day the Suisse [hall-porter] in the hotel, Mr. Armand, said to me: "A gentleman and a lady have been here, I said you were not at home, you had not said you would receive visitors; the gentleman left his name, he had no card with him. " I read: Chopin et Madame Sand. After this I quarrelled for two months with Mr. Armand. 

George Sand was probably out of humour on the evening inquestion; that it was not her usual manner of receiving visitorsmay be gathered from what Chopin said soon after to Lenz when thelatter came to him for a lesson. "George Sand, " he said, "calledwith me on you. What a pity you were not at home! I regretted itvery much. George Sand thought she had been uncivil to you. Youwould have seen how amiable she can be. You have pleased her. "

Alexander Chodzko, the learned professor of Slavonic literatureat the College de France, told me that he was half-a-dozen timesat George Sand's house. Her apartments were furnished in a stylein favour with young men. First you came into a vestibule wherehats, coats, and sticks were left, then into a large salon with abilliard-table. On the mantel-piece were to be found thematerials requisite for smoking. George Sand set her guests anexample by lighting a cigar. M. Chodzko met there among othersthe historian and statesman Guizot, the litterateur Francois, andMadame Marliani. If Chopin was not present, George Sand wouldoften ask the servant what he was doing, whether he was workingor sleeping, whether he was in good or bad humour. And when hecame in all eyes were directed towards him. If he happened to bein good humour George Sand would lead him to the piano, whichstood in one of the two smaller apartments adjoining the salon. These smaller apartments were provided with couches for those whowished to talk. Chopin began generally to prelude apatheticallyand only gradually grew warm, but then his playing was reallygrand. If, however, he was not in a playing mood, he was oftenasked to give some of his wonderful mimetic imitations. On suchoccasions Chopin retired to one of the side-rooms, and when hereturned he was irrecognisable. Professor Chodzko remembersseeing him as Frederick the Great. 

Chopin's talent for mimicry, which even such distinguished actorsas Bocage and Madame Dorval regarded with admiration, is alludedto by Balzac in his novel "Un Homme d'affaires, " where he says ofone of the characters that "he is endowed with the same talentfor imitating people which Chopin, the pianist, possesses in sohigh a degree; he represents a personage instantly and withastounding truth. " Liszt remarks that Chopin displayed inpantomime an inexhaustible verve drolatique, and often amusedhimself with reproducing in comical improvisations the musicalformulas and peculiar ways of certain virtuosos, whose faces andgestures he at the same time imitated in the most strikingmanner. These statements are corroborated by the accounts ofinnumerable eye and ear-witnesses of such performances. One ofthe most illustrative of these accounts is the following veryamusing anecdote. When the Polish musician Nowakowski [FOOTNOTE:He visited Paris in 1838, 1841, and 1846, partly for the purposeof making arrangements for the publication of his compositions, among which are Etudes dedicated to Chopin. ] visited Paris, hebegged his countryman to bring him in contact with Kalkbrenner, Liszt, and Pixis. Chopin, replying that he need not put himselfto the trouble of going in search of these artists if he wishedto make their acquaintance, forthwith sat down at the piano andassumed the attitude, imitated the style of playing, and mimickedthe mien and gestures, first of Liszt and then of Pixis. Nextevening Chopin and Nowakowski went together to the theatre. Theformer having left the box during one of the intervals, thelatter looked round after awhile and saw Pixis sitting besidehim. Nowakowski, thinking Chopin was at his favourite game, clapped Pixis familiarly on the shoulder and said: "Leave off, don't imitate now!" The surprise of Pixis and the subsequentconfusion of Nowakowski may be easily imagined. When Chopin, whoat this moment returned, had been made to understand what hadtaken place, he laughed heartily, and with the grace peculiar tohim knew how to make his friend's and his own excuses. One thingin connection with Chopin's mimicry has to be particularly noted--it is very characteristic of the man. Chopin, we learn fromLiszt, while subjecting his features to all kinds ofmetamorphoses and imitating even the ugly and grotesque, neverlost his native grace, "la grimace ne parvenait meme pas al'enlaidir. "

We shall see presently what George Sand has to say about herlover's imitative talent; first, however, we will make ourselvesacquainted with the friends with whom she especially associated. Besides Pierre Leroux, Balzac, Pauline Viardot-Garcia, and otherswho have already been mentioned in the foregoing chapters, shenumbered among her most intimate friends the Republicanpolitician and historian Louis Blanc, the Republican litterateurGodefroy Cavaignac, the historian Henri Martin, and thelitterateur Louis Viardot, the husband of Pauline Garcia. 

[FOOTNOTE: This name reminds me of a passage in Louis Blanc's"Histoire de la Revolution de 1840" (p. 210 of Fifth Edition. Paris, 1880). "A short time before his [Godefroy Cavaignac's]end, he was seized by an extraordinary desire to hear music oncemore. I knew Chopin. I offered to go to him, and to bring himwith me, if the doctor did not oppose it. The entreatiesthereupon took the character of a supplication. With the consent, or rather at the urgent prayer, of Madame Cavaignac, I betookmyself to Chopin. Madame George Sand was there. She expressed ina touching manner the lively interest with which the invalidinspired her; and Chopin placed himself at my service with muchreadiness and grace. I conducted him then into the chamber of thedying man, where there was a bad piano. The great artistbegins. .. Suddenly he is interrupted by sobs. Godefroy, in atransport of sensibility which gave him a moment's physicalstrength, had quite unexpectedly raised himself in his bed ofsuffering, his face bathed in tears. Chopin stopped, muchdisturbed; Madame Cavaignac, leaning towards her son, anxiouslyinterrogated him with her eyes. He made an effort to become self-possessed; he attempted to smile, and with a feeble voice said, 'Do not be uneasy, mamma, it is nothing; real childishness. .. Ah!how beautiful music is, understood thus!' His thought was--wehad no difficulty in divining it--that he would no longer hearanything like it in this world, but he refrained from sayingso. "]

Friends not less esteemed by her than these, but with whom shewas less intimate, were the Polish poet Mickiewicz, the famousbass singer Lablache, the excellent pianist and composer Alkanaine, the Italian composer and singing-master Soliva (whom we metalready in Warsaw), the philosopher and poet Edgar Quinet, General Guglielmo Pepe (commander-in-chief of the Neapolitaninsurrectionary army in 1820-21), and likewise the actor Bocage, the litterateur Ferdinand Francois, the German musician Dessauer, the Spanish politician Mendizabal, the dramatist and journalistEtienne Arago, [FOOTNOTE: The name of Etienne Arago is mentionedin "Ma Vie, " but it is that of Emmanuel Arago which occursfrequently in the "Corrcspcndance. "] and a number of literary andother personages of less note, of whom I shall mention onlyAgricol Perdiguier and Gilland, the noble artisan and theecrivain proletaire, as George Sand calls them. 

Although some of George Sand's friends were also Chopin's, therecan be no doubt that the society which gathered around her was onthe whole not congenial to him. Some remarks which Liszt makeswith regard to George Sand's salon at Nohant are even moreapplicable to her salon in Paris. 

 An author's relations with the representatives of publicity and his dramatic executants, actors and actresses, and with those whom he treats with marked attention on account of their merits or because they please him; the crossing of incidents, the clash and rebound of the infatuations and disagreements which result therefrom; were naturally hateful to him [to Chopin]. For a long time he endeavoured to escape from them by shutting his eyes, by making up his mind not to see anything. There happened, however, such things, such catastrophes [denouements], as, by shocking too much his delicacy, offending too much his habits of the moral and social comme-il- faut, ended in rendering his presence at Nohant impossible, although he seemed at first to have felt more content [plus de repif] there than elsewhere. 

These are, of course, only mere surmises, but Liszt, althoughoften wrong as to incidents, is, thanks to his penetrativegenius, generally right as to essences. Indeed, if George Sand'ssurroundings and Chopin's character and tastes are kept in viewnothing seems to be more probable than that his over-delicatesusceptibilities may have occasionally been shocked byunrestrained vivacity, loud laughter, and perhaps even coarsewords; that his uncompromising idealism may have been disturbedby the discordance of literary squabbles, intrigues, and businesstransactions; that his peaceable, non-speculative, and non-argumentative disposition may have been vexed and wearied bydiscussions of political, social, religious, literary, andartistic problems. Unless his own art was the subject, Chopin didnot take part in discussions. And Liszt tells us that Chopin notonly, like most artists, lacked a generalising mind [espritgeneralisateur], but showed hardly any inclination foraesthetics, of which he had not even heard much. We may be surethat to Chopin to whom discussions of any kind were distasteful, those of a circle in which, as in that of George Sand, democraticand socialistic, theistic and atheistic views prevailed, wereparticularly so. For, notwithstanding his bourgeois birth, hissympathies were with the aristocracy; and notwithstanding hisneglect of ritual observances, his attachment to the Church ofRome remained unbroken. Chopin does not seem to have concealedhis dislike to George Sand's circle; if he did not give audibleexpression to it, he made it sufficiently manifest by seekingother company. That she was aware of the fact and displeased withit, is evident from what she says of her lover's social habits inMa Vie. The following excerpt from that work is an importantbiographical contribution; it is written not without bitterness, but with hardly any exaggeration:--

 He was a man of the world par excellence, not of the too formal and too numerous world, but of the intimate world, of the salons of twenty persons, of the hour when the crowd goes away and the habitues crowd round the artist to wrest from him by amiable importunity his purest inspiration. It was then only that he exhibited all his genius and all his talent. It was then also that after having plunged his audience into a profound recueillement or into a painful sadness, for his music sometimes discouraged one's soul terribly, especially when he improvised, he would suddenly, as if to take away the impression and remembrance of his sorrow from others and from himself, turn stealthily to a glass, arrange his hair and his cravat, and show himself suddenly transformed into a phlegmatic Englishman, into an impertinent old man, into a sentimental and ridiculous Englishwoman, into a sordid Jew. The types were always sad, however comical they might be, but perfectly conceived and so delicately rendered that one could not grow weary of admiring them. 

 All these sublime, charming, or bizarre things that he knew how to evolve out of himself made him the soul of select society, and there was literally a contest for his company, his noble character, his disinterestedness, his self-respect, his proper pride, enemy of every vanity of bad taste and of every insolent reclame, the security of intercourse with him, and the exquisite delicacy of his manners, making him a friend equally serious and agreeable. 

 To tear Chopin away from so many gdteries, to associate him with a simple, uniform, and constantly studious life, him who had been brought up on the knees of princesses, was to deprive him of that which made him live, of a factitious life, it is true, for, like a painted woman, he laid aside in the evening, in returning to his home, his verve and his energy, to give the night to fever and sleeplessness; but of a life which would have been shorter and more animated than that of the retirement and of the intimacy restricted to the uniform circle of a single family. In Paris he visited several salons every day, or he chose at least every evening a different one as a milieu. He had thus by turns twenty or thirty salons to intoxicate or to charm with his presence. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

CHOPIN IN HIS SOCIAL RELATIONS: HIS PREDILECTION FOR THEFASHIONABLE SALON SOCIETY (ACCOUNTS BY MADAME GIRARDIN ANDBERLIOZ); HIS NEGLECT OF THE SOCIETY OF ARTISTS (ARY SCHEFFER, MARMONTEL, HELLER, SCHULHOFF, THE PARIS CORRESPONDENT OF THEMUSICAL WORLD); APHORISMS BY LISZT ON CHOPIN IN HIS SOCIALASPECT. --CHOPIN'S FRIENDSHIPS. --GEORGE SAND, LISZT, LENZ, HELLER, MARMONTEL, AND HILLER ON HIS CHARACTER (IRRITABILITY, FITS OFANGER--SCENE WITH MEYERBEER--GAIETY AND RAILLERY, LOVE OFSOCIETY, AND LITTLE TASTE FOR READING, PREDILECTION FOR THINGSPOLISH). --HIS POLISH, GERMAN, ENGLISH, AND RUSSIAN FRIENDS. --THEPARTY MADE FAMOUS BY LISZT'S ACCOUNT. --HIS INTERCOURSE WITHMUSICIANS (OSBORNE, BERLIOZ, BAILLOT, CHERUBINI, KALKBRENNER, FONTANA, SOWINSKI, WOLFF, MEYERBEER, ALKAN, ETC. ). --HISFRIENDSHIP WITH LISZT. --HIS DISLIKE TO LETTER-WRITING. 

George Sand, although one of the cleverest of the literaryportrayers who have tried their hand at Chopin, cannot beregarded as one of the most impartial; but it must be admittedthat in describing her deserted lover as un homme du monde parexcellence, non pas du monde trop officiel, trop nombreux, shesays what is confirmed by all who have known him, by his friends, foes, and those that are neither. Aristocratic society, withwhich he was acquainted from his earliest childhood, had always agreat charm for him. When at the beginning of 1833, a little morethan two years after his arrival in Paris, he informed his friendDziewanowski that he moved in the highest society--amongambassadors, princes, and ministers--it is impossible not to seethat the fact gives him much satisfaction. Without going so faras to say with a great contemporary of Chopin, Stephen Heller, that the higher you go in society the greater is the ignoranceyou find, I think that little if any good for either heart ormind can come from intercourse with that section of the peoplewhich proudly styles itself "society" (le monde). Manyindividuals that belong to it possess, no doubt, true nobility, wisdom, and learning, nay, even the majority may possess one orthe other or all of them in some degree, but these qualities areso out of keeping with the prevailing frivolity that few have themoral courage to show their better nature. If Chopin imaginedthat he was fully understood as an artist by society, he wassadly mistaken. Liszt and Heller certainly held that he was notfully understood, and they did not merely surmise or speak fromhearsay, for neither of them was a stranger in that quarter, although the latter avoided it as much as possible. What societycould and did appreciate in Chopin was his virtuosity, hiselegance, and his delicacy. It is not my intention to attempt anenumeration of Chopin's aristocratic friends and acquaintances, but in the dedications of his works the curious will find themost important of them. There, then, we read the names of thePrincess Czartoryska, Countess Plater, Countess Potocka, Princesse de Beauvau, Countess Appony, Countess Esterhazy, Comteand Comtesse de Perthuis, Baroness Bronicka, PrincessCzernicheff, Princess Souzzo, Countess Mostowska, CountessCzosnowska, Comtesse de Flahault, Baroness von Billing, Baron andBaroness von Stockhausen, Countess von Lobau, Mdlle. De Noailles, &c. And in addition to these we have representatives of thearistocracy of wealth, Madame C. De Rothschild foremost amongstthem. Whether the banker Leo with whom and his family Chopin wason very friendly terms may be mentioned in this connection, I donot know. But we must remember that round many of the above namescluster large families. The names of the sisters Countess Potockaand Princesse de Beauvau call up at once that of their mother, Countess Komar. Many of these here enumerated are repeatedlymentioned in the course of this book, some will receiveparticular attention in the next chapter. Now we will try to geta glimpse of Chopin in society. 

Madame de Girardin, after having described in one of her "Lettresparisiennes" (March 7, 1847) [FOOTNOTE: The full title of thework is: "Le Vicomte de Launay--Lettres parisiennes par Mdme. Emile de Girardin. " (Paris: Michel Levy freres. )] with whatsuccess Mdlle. O'Meara accompanied by her master played his Eminor Concerto at a soiree of Madame de Courbonne, proceeds thus:--

 Mdlle. Meara is a pupil of Chopin's. He was there, he was present at the triumph of his pupil, the anxious audience asked itself: "Shall we hear him?"

 The fact is that it was for passionate admirers the torment of Tantalus to see Chopin going about a whole evening in a salon and not to hear him. The mistress of the house took pity on us; she was indiscreet, and Chopin played, sang his most delicious songs; we set to these joyous or sad airs the words which came into our heads; we followed with our thoughts his melodious caprices. There were some twenty of us, sincere amateurs, true believers, and not a note was lost, not an intention was misunderstood; it was not a concert, it was intimate, serious music such as we love; he was not a virtuoso who comes and plays the air agreed upon and then disappears; he was a beautiful talent, monopolised, worried, tormented, without consideration and scruples, whom one dared ask for the most beloved airs, and who full of grace and charity repeated to you the favourite phrase, in order that you might carry it away correct and pure in your memory, and for a long time yet feast on it in remembrance. Madame so-and-so said: "Please, play this pretty nocturne dedicated to Mdlle. Stirling. "--The nocturne which I called the dangerous one. --He smiled, and played the fatal nocturne. "I, " said another lady, "should like to hear once played by you this mazurka, so sad and so charming. " He smiled again, and played the delicious mazurka. The most profoundly artful among the ladies sought expedients to attain their end: "I am practising the grand sonata which commences with this beautiful funeral march, " and "I should like to know the movement in which the finale ought to be played. " He smiled a little at the stratagem, and played the finale, of the grand sonata, one of the most magnificent pieces which he has composed. 

Although Madame Girardin's language and opinions are fairspecimens of those prevalent in the beatified regions in whichChopin delighted to move, we will not follow her rhapsodic eulogyof his playing. That she cannot be ranked with the connoisseursis evident from her statement that the sonata BEGINS with thefuneral march, and that the FINALE is one of the most magnificentcreations of the composer. Notwithstanding Madame Girardin'ssubsequent remark that Chopin's playing at Madame de Courbonne'swas quite an exception, her letter may mislead the reader intothe belief that the great pianist was easily induced to sit downat the piano. A more correct idea may be formed of the real stateof matters from a passage in an article by Berlioz (Feuilleton duJournal des Debats, October 27, 1849) in which the supremacy ofstyle over matter is a little less absolute than in the lady'selegant chit-chat:--

 A small circle of select auditors, whose real desire to hear him was beyond doubt, could alone determine him to approach the piano. What emotions he would then call forth! In what ardent and melancholy reveries he loved to pour out his soul! It was usually towards midnight that he gave himself up with the greatest ABANDON, when the big butterflies of the salon had left, when the political questions of the day had been discussed at length, when all the scandal-mongers were at the end of their anecdotes, when all the snares were laid, all the perfidies consummated, when one was thoroughly tired of prose, then, obedient to the mute petition of some beautiful, intelligent eyes, he became a poet, and sang the Ossianic loves of the heroes of his dreams, their chivalrous joys, and the sorrows of the absent fatherland, his dear Poland always ready to conquer and always defeated. But without these conditions--the exacting of which for his playing all artists must thank him for--it was useless to solicit him. The curiosity excited by his fame seemed even to irritate him, and he shunned as far as possible the nonsympathetic world when chance had led him into it. I remember a cutting saying which he let fly one evening at the master of a house where he had dined. Scarcely had the company taken coffee when the host, approaching Chopin, told him that his fellow-guests who had never heard him hoped that he would be so good as to sit down at the piano and play them some little thing [quelque petite chose]. Chopin excused himself from the very first in a way which left not the slightest doubt as to his inclination. But when the other insisted, in an almost offensive manner, like a man who knows the worth and the object of the dinner which he has given, the artist cut the conversation short by saying with a weak and broken voice and a fit of coughing: "Ah! sir. .. I have. .. Eaten so little!"

Chopin's predilection for the fashionable salon society led himto neglect the society of artists. That he carried the odiprofanum vulgus, et arceo too far cannot for a moment be doubted. For many of those who sought to have intercourse with him weremen of no less nobility of sentiment and striving than himself. Chopin offended even Ary Scheffer, the great painter, who admiredhim and loved him, by promising to spend an evening with him andagain and again disappointing him. Musicians, with a fewexceptions. Chopin seems always to have been careful to keep at adistance, at least after the first years of his arrival in Paris. This is regrettable especially in the case of the young men wholooked up to him with veneration and enthusiasm, and whosefeelings were cruelly hurt by the polite but unsympatheticreception he gave them:--

 We have had always a profound admiration for Chopin's talent [writes M. Marmontel], and, let us add, a lively sympathy for his person. No artist, the intimate disciples not excepted, has more studied his compositions, and more caused them to be played, and yet our relations with this great musician have only been rare and transient. Chopin was surrounded, fawned upon, closely watched by a small cenacle of enthusiastic friends, who guarded him against importunate visitors and admirers of the second order. It was difficult to get access to him; and it was necessary, as he said himself to that other great artist whose name is Stephen Heller, to try several times before one succeeded in meeting him. These trials ["essais"] being no more to my taste than to Heller's, I could not belong to that little congregation of faithful ones whose cult verged on fanaticism. 

As to Stephen Heller--who himself told me that he would haveliked to be more with Chopin, but was afraid of being regarded asintrusive--Mr. Heller thinks that Chopin had an antipathy to him, which considering the amiable and truly gentlemanly character ofthis artist seems rather strange. 

If the details of Karasowski's account of Chopin's andSchulhoff's first meeting are correct, the Polish artist was inhis aloofness sometimes even deficient in that common civilitywhich good-breeding and consideration for the feelings of othersdemand. Premising that Fetis in telling the story is lesscircumstantial and lays the scene of the incident in thepianoforte-saloon of Pleyel, I shall quote Karasowski's version, as he may have had direct information from Schulhoff, who since1855 has lived much of his time at Dresden, where Karasowski alsoresides:--

 Schulhoff came when quite a young man and as yet completely unknown to Paris. There he learned that Chopin, who was then already very ailing and difficult of access, was coming to the pianoforte-manufactory of Mercier to inspect one of the newly- invented transposing pianofortes. It was in the year 1844. Schulhoff seized the opportunity to become personally acquainted with the master, and made his appearance among the small party which awaited Chopin. The latter came with an old friend, a Russian Capellmeister [Soliva?]. Taking advantage of a propitious moment, Schulhoff got himself introduced by one of the ladies present. On the latter begging Chopin to allow Schulhoff to play him something, the renowned master, who was much bothered by dilettante tormentors, signified, somewhat displeased, his consent by a slight nod of the head. Schulhoff seated himself at the pianoforte, while Chopin, with his back turned to him, was leaning against it. But already during the short prelude he turned his head attentively towards Schulhoff who now performed an Allegro brillant en forme de Senate (Op. I), which he had lately composed. With growing interest Chopin came nearer and nearer the keyboard and listened to the fine, poetic playing of the young Bohemian; his pale features grew animated, and by mien and gesture he showed to all who were present his lively approbation. When Schulhoff had finished, Chopin held out his hand to him with the words: "Vous etes un vrai artiste, un collegue!" Some days after Schulhoff paid the revered master a visit, and asked him to accept the dedication of the composition he had played to him. Chopin thanked him in a heart-winning manner, and said in the presence of several ladies: "Je suis tres flatte de l'honneur que vous me faites. "

The behaviour of Chopin during the latter part of thistransaction made, no doubt, amends for that of the earlier. Butthe ungracious manner in which he granted the young musicianpermission to play to him, and especially his turning his back toSchulhoff when the latter began to play, are not excused by thefact that he was often bothered by dilettante tormentors. 

The Paris correspondent of the Musical World, writing immediatelyafter the death of the composer, describes the feeling whichexisted among the musicians in the French capital, and alsosuggests an explanation and excuse. In the number of the paperbearing date November 10, 1849, we read as follows:--

 Owing to his retired way of living and his habitual reserve, Chopin had few friends in the profession; and, indeed, spoiled from his original nature by the caprice of society, he was too apt to treat his brother-artists with a supercilious hauteur, which many, his equals, and a few, his superiors, were wont to stigmatise as insulting. But from want of sympathy with the man, they overlooked the fact that a pulmonary complaint, which for years had been gradually wasting him to a shadow, rendered him little fit for the enjoyments of society and the relaxations of artistic conviviality. In short, Chopin, in self-defence, was compelled to live in comparative seclusion, but we wholly disbelieve that this isolation had its source in unkindness or egotism. We are the more inclined to this opinion by the fact that the intimate friends whom he possessed in the profession (and some of them were pianists) were as devotedly attached to him as the most romantic of his aristocratic worshippers. 

The reasoning does not seem to me quite conclusive. Would it nothave been possible to live in retirement without drawing uponhimself the accusation of supercilious hauteur? Moreover, asChopin was strong enough to frequent fashionable salons, hecannot have been altogether unable to hold intercourse with hisbrother-artists. And, lastly, who are the pianist friends thatwere as devotedly attached to him as the most romantic of hisaristocratic worshippers? The fact that Chopin becamesubsequently less social and more reticent than he had been inhis early Paris days, confined himself to a very limited numberof friends and families, and had relations of an intimate naturewith only a very few musicians, cannot, therefore, beattributable to ill-health alone, although that too had, nodoubt, something to do with it, directly or indirectly. In short, the allegation that Chopin was "spoiled by the caprice ofsociety, " as the above-quoted correspondent puts it, is not onlyprobable, but even very likely. Fastidious by nature andeducation, he became more so, partly in consequence of hisgrowing physical weakness, and still more through the influenceof the society with which, in the exercise of his profession andotherwise, he was in constant contact. His pupils and many of hisother admirers, mostly of the female sex and the aristocraticclass, accustomed him to adulation and adoration to such anextent as to make these to be regarded by him as necessaries oflife. Some excerpts from Liszt's book, which I shall quote herein the form of aphorisms, will help to bring Chopin, in hissocial aspect, clearly before the reader's eyes:--

 As he did not confound his time, thought, and ways with those of anyone, the society of women was often more convenient to him in that it involved fewer subsequent relations. 

 He carried into society the uniformity of temper of people whom no annoyance troubles because they expect no interest. 

 His conversation dwelt little on stirring subjects. He glided over them; as he was not at all lavish of his time, the talk was easily absorbed by the details of the day. 

 He loved the unimportant talk [les causeries sans portee] of people whom he esteemed; he delighted in the childish pleasures of young people. He passed readily whole evenings in playing blind-man's-buff with young girls, in telling them amusing or funny little stories, in making them laugh the mad laughter of youth, which it gives even more pleasure to hear than the singing of the warbler. [FOOTNOTE: This, I think, must refer to the earlier years of Chopin's residence in Paris. ]

 In his relations and conversations he seemed to take an interest in what preoccupied the others; he took care not to draw them out of the circle of their personality inorder to lead them into his. If he gave up little of his time, he, to make up for it, reserved to himself nothing of that which he granted. 

 The presence of Chopin was, therefore, always heartily welcome [fetee]. Not hoping to be understood [devine], disdaining to speak of himself [de se raconter lui-meme], he occupied himself so much with everything that was not himself that his intimate personality remained aloof, unapproached and unapproachable, under this polite and smooth [glissant] surface where it was impossible to get a footing. 

 He pleased too much to make people reflect. 

 He hardly spoke either of love or of friendship. 

 He was not exacting like those whose rights and just demands surpass by far what one would have to offer them. The most intimate acquaintances did not penetrate to this sacred recess where, withdrawn from all the rest of his life, dwelt the secret motive power of his soul: a recess so concealed that one scarcely suspected its existence. 

 Ready to give everything, he did not give himself. 

The last dictum and part of the last but one were already quotedby me in an earlier chapter, but for the sake of completeness, and also because they form an excellent starting-point for thefollowing additional remarks on Chopin's friendships, I haverepeated them here. First of all, I venture to make the sweepingassertion that Chopin had among his non-Polish friends none whocould be called intimate in the fullest sense of the word, noneto whom he unbosomed himself as he did to Woyciechowski andMatuszynski, the friends of his youth, and Grzymala, a friend ofa later time. Long cessation of personal intercourse togetherwith the diverging development of their characters in totallyunlike conditions of life cannot but have diminished the intimacywith the first named. [FOOTNOTE: Titus Woyciechowski continued tolive on his estate Poturzyn, in the kingdom of Poland. ] WithMatuszyriski Chopin remained in close connection till thisfriend's death. [FOOTNOTE: Karasowski says in the first volume ofhis Polish biography of Chopin that Matuszynski died on April 20, 1842; and in the second that he died after Chopin's father, butin the same year--that is, in 1844. ] How he opened his wholeheart to Grzymala we shall see in a subsequent chapter. That hisfriendship with Fontana was of a less intimate character becomesat once apparent on comparing Chopin's letters to him with thosehe wrote to the three other Polish friends. Of all hisconnections with non-Poles there seems to be only one whichreally deserves the name of friendship, and that is hisconnection with Franchomme. Even here, however, he gave much lessthan he received. Indeed, we may say--speaking generally, and notonly with a view to Franchomme--that Chopin was more loved thanloving. But he knew well how to conceal his deficiencies in thisrespect under the blandness of his manners and the coaxingaffectionateness of his language. There is something reallytragic, and comic too, in the fact that every friend of Chopin'sthought that he had more of the composer's love and confidencethan any other friend. Thus, for instance, while Gutmann told methat Franchomme was not so intimate with Chopin that the latterwould confide any secrets to him, Franchomme made to me a similarstatement with regard to Gutmann. And so we find every friend ofChopin declaring that every other friend was not so much of afriend as himself. Of Chopin's procedures in friendship much maybe learned from his letters; in them is to be seen something ofhis insinuating, cajoling ways, of his endeavours to make theperson addressed believe himself a privileged favourite, and ofhis habit of speaking not only ungenerously and unlovingly, buteven unjustly of other persons with whom he was apparently oncordial terms. In fact, it is only too clear that Chopin spokedifferently before the faces and behind the backs of people. Youremember how in his letters to Fontana he abuses Camille Pleyelin a manner irreconcilable with genuine love and esteem. Well, tothis same Camille Pleyel, of whom he thus falls foul when hethinks himself in the slightest aggrieved, he addresses on oneoccasion the following note. Mark the last sentence:--

 Dearest friend [Cherissime], --Here is what Onslow has written to me. I wished to call on you and tell you, but I feel very feeble and am going to lie down. I love you always more, if this is possible [je vous aime toujours plus si c'est possible]. 

 CHOPIN. 

 [FOOTNOTE: To the above, unfortunately undated, note, which was published for the first time in the Menestrel of February 15, 1885, and reprinted in "Un nid d'autographes, " lettres incites recueillies et annotees par Oscar Comettant (Paris: E. Dentu), is appended the following P. S. :--"Do not forget, please, friend Herbeault. Till to-morrow, then; I expect you both. "

 La Mara's Musikerbriefe (Leipzig: Breitkopf and Hartel) contains likewise a friendly letter of Chopin to Camille Pleyel. It runs thus:

 "Dearest friend, --I received the other day your piano, and give you my best thanks. It arrived in good tune, and is exactly at concert-pitch. As yet I have not played much on it, for the weather is at present so fine that I am almost always in the open air. I wish you as pleasant weather for your holidays. Write me a few words (if you find that you have not sufficiently exercised your pen in the course of the day). May you all remain well--and lay me at the feet of your mother and sister. --Your devoted, "F. CHOPIN. "

 The date given by La Mara is "Monday [May 20, 1842], Nohant, near La Chatre, Indre. " This, however, cannot be right, for the 20th of May in 1842 was a Friday. ]

And, again, how atrociously he reviles in the same letters thebanker Leo, who lends him money, often takes charge of hismanuscripts, procures payment for them, and in whose house he hasbeen for years a frequent visitor. Mr. Ch. Halle informed me thatChopin was on particularly good terms with the Leos. FromMoscheles' diary we learn that the writer made Chopin'sacquaintance at the banker's house. Stephen Heller told me thathe met Chopin several times at Leo's, and that the Polishcomposer visited there often, and continued to go there when hehad given up going to many other houses. And from the sameinformant I learned also that Madame Leo as well as her husbandtook a kindly interest in Chopin, showing this, for instance, byproviding him with linen. And yet Leo, this man who does him allsorts of services, and whose smiling guest he is before andafter, is spoken of by Chopin as if he were the most "despicablewretch imaginable"; and this for no other reason than thateverything has not been done exactly as he wished it to be done. Unless we assume these revilings to be no more than explosions ofmomentary ill-humour, we must find Chopin convicted of duplicityand ingratitude. In the letters to Fontana there are also certainremarks about Matuszynski which I do not like. Nor can they bewholly explained away by saying that they are in part fun and inpart indirect flattery of his correspondent. It would rather seemthat Chopin's undoubtedly real love for Matuszynski was notunmixed with a certain kind of contempt. And here I must tell thereader that while Poles have so high an opinion of their nationin comparison with other nations, and of their countrymen withother countrymen, they have generally a very mean opinion of eachother. Indeed, I never met with a Pole who did not look down witha self-satisfied smile of pity on any of his fellow-countrymen, even on his best friend. It seems that their feeling ofindividual superiority is as great as that of their nationalsuperiority. Liszt's observations (see Vol. I. , p. 259) and thoseof other writers (Polish as well as non-Polish) confirm mine, which else might rightly be supposed to be based on too limitedan experience. To return to Matuszynski, he may have been tooready to advise and censure his friend, and not practical enoughto be actively helpful. After reading the letters addressed tothem one comes to the conclusion that Fontana's and Franchomme'sserviceableness and readiness to serve went for something in hisappreciation of them as friends. At any rate, he did not hesitateto exploiter them most unconscionably. Taking a general view ofthe letters written by him during the last twelve years of hislife, one is struck by the absence of generous judgments and theextreme rareness of sympathetic sentiments concerning thirdpersons. As this was not the case in his earlier letters, ill-health and disappointments suggest themselves naturally as causesof these faults of character and temper. To these principalcauses have, however, to be added his nationality, his originallydelicate constitution, and his cultivation of salon manners andtastes. His extreme sensitiveness, fastidiousness, andirritability may be easily understood to derive from one or theother of these conditions. 

George Sand's Ma Vie throws a good deal of light on Chopin'scharacter; let us collect a few rays from it:--

 He [Chopin] was modest on principle and gentle [doux] by habit, but he was imperious by instinct, and full of a legitimate pride that did not know itself. 

 He was certainly not made to live long in this world, this extreme type of an artist. He was devoured by the dream of an ideal which no practical philosophic or compassionate tolerance combated. He would never compound with human nature. He accepted nothing of reality. This was his vice and his virtue, his grandeur and his misery. Implacable to the least blemish, he had an immense enthusiasm for the least light, his excited imagination doing its utmost to see in it a sun. 

 He was the same in friendship [as in love], becoming enthusiastic at first sight, getting disgusted, and correcting himself [se reprenant] incessantly, living on infatuations full of charms for those who were the object of them, and on secret discontents which poisoned his dearest affections. 

 Chopin accorded to me, I may say honoured me with, a kind of friendship which was an exception in his life. He was always the same to me. 

 The friendship of Chopin was never a refuge for me in sadness. He had enough of his own ills to bear. 

 We never addressed a reproach to each other, except once, which, alas! was the first and the last time. 

 But if Chopin was with me devotion, kind attention, grace, obligingness, and deference in person, he had not for all that abjured the asperities of his character towards those who were about me. With them the inequality of his soul, in turn generous and fantastic, gave itself full course, passing always from infatuation to aversion, and vice versa. 

 Chopin when angry was alarming, and as, with me, he always restrained himself, he seemed almost to choke and die. 

The following extracts from Liszt's book partly corroborate, partly supplement, the foregoing evidence:--

 His imagination was ardent, his feelings rose to violence, -- his physical organisation was feeble and sickly! Who can sound the sufferings proceeding from this contrast? They must have been poignant, but he never let them be seen. 

 The delicacy of his constitution and of his heart, in imposing upon him the feminine martyrdom of for ever unavowed tortures, gave to his destiny some of the traits of feminine destinies. 

 He did not exercise a decisive influence on any existence. His passion never encroached upon any of his desires; he neither pressed close nor bore down [n'a etreint ni masse] any mind by the domination of his own. 

 However rarely, there were nevertheless instances when we surprised him profoundly moved. We have seen him turn pale [palir et blemir] to such a degree as to assume green and cadaverous tints. But in his intensest emotions he remained concentrated. He was then, as usually, chary of words about what he felt; a minute's reflection [recueillement] always hid the secret of his first impression. .. This constant control over the violence of his character reminded one of the melancholy superiority of certain women who seek their strength in reticence and isolation, knowing the uselessness of the explosions of their anger, and having a too jealous care of the mystery of their passion to betray it gratuitously. 

Chopin, however, did not always control his temper. Hellerremembers seeing him more than once in a passion, and hearing himspeak very harshly to Nowakowski. The following story, which Lenzrelates in "Die grossen Pianoforte-Virtuosen unserer Zeit, " isalso to the point. 

 On one occasion Meyerbeer, whom I had not yet seen, entered Chopin's room when I was getting a lesson. Meyerbeer was not announced, he was king. I was playing the Mazurka in C (Op. 33), printed on one page which contains so many hundreds--I called it the epitaph of the idea [Grabschrift des Begriffs], so full of distress and sadness is the composition, the wearied flight of an eagle. 

 Meyerbeer had taken a seat, Chopin made me go on. 

 "This is two-four time, " said Meyerbeer. Chopin denied this, made me repeat the piece, and beat time aloud with the pencil on the piano--his eyes were glowing. 

 "Two crotchets, " repeated Meyerbeer, calmly. 

 Only once I saw Chopin angry, it was at this moment. It was beautiful to see how a light red coloured his pale cheeks. 

 "These are three crotchets, " he said with a loud voice, he who spoke always so low

 "Give it me, " replied Meyerbeer, "for a ballet in my opera ("L'Africaine, " at that time kept a secret), I shall show it you then. "

 "These are three crotchets, " Chopin almost shouted, and played it himself. He played the mazurka several times, counted aloud, stamped time with his foot, was beside himself. But all was of no use, Meyerbeer insisted on TWO crotchets. They parted very angrily. I found it anything but agreeable to have been a witness of this angry scene. Chopin disappeared into his cabinet without taking leave of me. The whole thing lasted but a few minutes. 

Exhibitions of temper like this were no doubt rare, indeed, hardly ever occurred except in his intercourse with familiarsand, more especially, fellow-countrymen--sometimes also withpupils. In passing I may remark that Chopin's Polish vocabularywas much less choice than his French one. As a rule, Chopin'smanners were very refined and aristocratic, Mr. Halle thinks theywere too much so. For this refinement resulted in a uniformamiability which left you quite in the dark as to the real natureof the man. Many people who made advances to Chopin found like M. Marmontel--I have this from his own mouth--that he had atemperament sauvage and was difficult to get at. And all who camenear him learned soon from experience that, as Liszt told Lenz, he was ombrageux. But while Chopin would treat outsiders with achilly politeness, he charmed those who were admitted into hiscircle both by amiability and wit. "Usually, " says Liszt, "he waslively, his caustic mind unearthed quickly the ridiculous farbelow the surface where it strikes all eyes. " And again, "theplayfulness of Chopin attacked only the superior keys of themind, fond of witticism as he was, recoiling from vulgarjoviality, gross laughter, common merriment, as from thoseanimals more abject than venomous, the sight of which causes themost nauseous aversion to certain sensitive and delicatenatures. " Liszt calls Chopin "a fine connoisseur in raillery andan ingenious mocker. " The testimony of other acquaintances ofChopin and that of his letters does not allow us to accept asholding good generally Mr. Halle's experience, who, mentioningalso the Polish artist's wit, said to me that he never heard himutter a sarcasm or use a cutting expression. 

Fondness of society is a characteristic trait in Chopin's mentalconstitution. Indeed, Hiller told me that his friend could not bewithout company. For reading, on the other hand, he did not muchcare. Alkan related to me that Chopin did not even read GeorgeSand's works--which is difficult to believe--and that PierreLeroux, who liked Chopin and always brought him his books, mighthave found them any time afterwards uncut on the pianist's table, which is not so difficult to believe, as philosophy and Chopinare contraries. According to what I learned from Hiller, Chopintook an interest in literature but read very little. To Heller itseemed that Chopin had no taste for literature, indeed, he madeon him the impression of an uneducated man. Heller, I must tellthe reader parenthetically, was both a great reader and anearnest thinker, over whom good books had even the power ofmaking him neglect and forget mistress Musica without regret andwith little compunction. But to return to Chopin. Franchommeexcused his friend by saying that teaching and the claims ofsociety left him no time for reading. But if Chopin neglectedFrench literature--not to speak of other ancient and modernliteratures--he paid some attention to that of his nativecountry; at any rate, new publications of Polish books weregenerally to be found on his table. The reader will also rememberthat Chopin, in his letters to Fontana, alludes twice to books ofpoetry--one by Mickiewicz which was sent him to Majorca, theother by Witwicki which he had lost sight of. 

Indeed, anything Polish had an especial charm and value forChopin. Absence from his native country so far from diminishingincreased his love for it. The words with which he is reported tohave received the pianist Mortier de Fontaine, who came to Parisin 1833 and called on him with letters of introduction, arecharacteristic in this respect: "It is enough that you havebreathed the air of Warsaw to find a friend and adviser in me. "There is, no doubt, some exaggeration in Liszt's statement thatwhoever came to Chopin from Poland, whether with or withoutletters of introduction, was sure of a hearty welcome, of beingreceived with open arms. On the other hand, we may fully believethe same authority when he says that Chopin often accorded topersons of his own country what he would not accord to anyoneelse--namely, the right of disturbing his habits; that he wouldsacrifice his time, money, and comfort to people who were perhapsunknown to him the day before, showing them the sights of thecapital, having them to dine with him, and taking them in theevening to some theatre. We have already seen that his mostintimate friends were Poles, and this was so in the aristocraticas well as in the conventionally less-elevated circles. Howeverpleasant his relations with the Rothschilds may have been--indeed, Franchomme told me that his friend loved the house ofRothschild and that this house loved him, and that moreespecially Madame Nathaniel Rothschild preserved a touchingremembrance of him [FOOTNOTE: Chopin dedicated to Madame laBaronne C. Rothschild the Waltz, Op. 64, No. 2 (ParisianEdition), and the Ballade, Op. 52. ]--they can have been but ofsmall significance in comparison with the almost passionateattachment he had to Prince Alexander Czartoryski and his wifethe Princess Marcelline. And if we were to compare his friendshipfor any non-Polish gentleman or lady with that which he felt forthe Countess Delphine Potocka, to whom he dedicated two of hishappiest inspirations in two very different genres (the F minorConcerto, Op. 21, and the D flat major Waltz, Op. 64, No. I), theresult would be again in favour of his compatriot. There were, indeed, some who thought that he felt more thanfriendship for this lady; this, however, he energetically denied. 

[FOOTNOTE: Of this lady Kwiatkowski said that she took as muchtrouble and pride in giving choice musical entertainments asother people did in giving choice dinners. In Sowinski'sMusiciens polonais we read that she had a beautiful soprano voiceand occupied the first place among the amateur ladies of Paris. "A great friend of the illustrious Chopin, she gave formerlysplendid concerts at her house with the old company of theItalians, which one shall see no more in Paris. To cite the namesof Rubini, Lablache, Tamburini, Malibran, Grisi, Persiani, is togive the highest idea of Italian singing. The Countess Potockasang herself according to the method of the Italian masters. "]

But although Chopin was more devoted and more happy in his Polishfriendships, he had beloved as well as loving friends of allnationalities--Germans, English, and even Russians. That as agood Pole he hated the Russians as a nation may be taken forgranted. Of his feelings and opinions with regard to his Englishfriends and the English in general, information will beforthcoming in a subsequent chapter. The Germans Chopin dislikedthoroughly, partly, no doubt, from political reasons, partlyperhaps on account of their inelegance and social awkwardness. Still, of this nation were some of his best friends, among themHiller, Gutmann, Albrecht, and the Hanoverian ambassador Baronvon Stockhausen. 

[FOOTNOTE: Gutmann, in speaking to me of his master's dislike, positively ascribed it to the second of the above causes. Inconnection with this we must, however, not forget that theGermans of to-day differ from the Germans of fifty years ago asmuch socially as politically. Nor have the social characters oftheir neighbours, the French and the English, remained the same. ]

Liszt has given a glowing description of an improvised soiree atChopin's lodgings in the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin--that is, inthe years before the winter in Majorca. At this soiree, we aretold, were present Liszt himself, Heine, Meyerbeer, Nourrit, Hiller, Delacroix, Niemcewicz, Mickiewicz, George Sand, and theComtesse d'Agoult. Of course, this is a poetic licence: these menand women cannot have been at one and the same time in Chopin'ssalon. Indeed, Hiller informed me that he knew nothing of thisparty, and that, moreover, as long as he was in Paris (up to1836) there were hardly ever more numerous gatherings at hisfriend's lodgings than of two or three. Liszt's group, however, brings vividly before us one section of Chopin's socialsurroundings: it shows us what a poetic atmosphere he wasbreathing, amidst what a galaxy of celebrities he was moving. Aglimpse of the real life our artist lived in the early Parisyears this extravagant effort of a luxuriant imagination does notafford. Such glimpses we got in his letters to Hiller andFranchomme, where we also met with many friends and acquaintanceswith less high-sounding names, some of whom Chopin subsequentlylost by removal or death. In addition to the friends who werethen mentioned, I may name here the Polish poet Stephen Witwicki, the friend of his youth as well as of his manhood, to whom in1842 he dedicated his Op. 41, three mazurkas, and several ofwhose poems he set to music; and the Polish painter Kwiatkowski, an acquaintance of a later time, who drew and painted manyportraits of the composer, and more than one of whose pictureswas inspired by compositions of his friend. I have not been ableto ascertain what Chopin's sentiments were with regard toKwiatkowski, but the latter must have been a frequent visitor, for after relating to me that the composer was fond of playing inthe dusk, he remarked that he heard him play thus almost all hisworks immediately after they were composed. 

As we have seen in the chapters treating of Chopin's first yearsin Paris, there was then a goodly sprinkling of musicians amonghis associates--I use the word "associates" advisedly, for manyof them could not truly be called friends. When he was oncefirmly settled, artistically and socially, not a few of theseearly acquaintances lapsed. How much this was due to the force ofcircumstances, how much to the choice of Chopin, is difficult todetermine. But we may be sure that his distaste to theBohemianism, the free and easy style that obtains among aconsiderable portion of the artistic tribe, had at least as muchto do with the result as pressure of engagements. Of themusicians of whom we heard so much in the first years after hiscoming to Paris, he remained in close connection only with one-namely, with Franchomme. Osborne soon disappeared from hiscircle. Chopin's intercourse with Berlioz was in after years sorare that some of their common friends did not even know of itsexistence. The loosening of this connection was probably broughtabout by the departure of Hiller in 1836 and the quarrel withLiszt some time after, which broke two links between thesensitive Pole and the fiery Frenchman. The ageing Baillot andCherubini died in 1842. Kalkbrenner died but a short time beforeChopin, but the sympathy existing between them was not strongenough to prevent their drifting apart. Other artists to whom thenew-comer had paid due homage may have been neglected, forgotten, or lost sight of when success was attained and the blandishmentsof the salons were lavished upon him. Strange to say, with allhis love for what belonged to and came from Poland, he keptcompatriot musicians at a distance. Fontana was an exception, buthim he cherished, no doubt, as a friend of his youth in spite ofhis profession, or, if as a musician at all, chiefly because ofhis handiness as a copyist. For Sowinski, who was already settledin Paris when Chopin arrived there, and who assisted him at hisfirst concert, he did not care. Consequently they had afterwardsless and less intercourse, which, indeed, in the end may haveceased altogether. An undated letter given by Count Wodziriski in"Les trois Romans de Frederic Chopin, " no doubt originallywritten in Polish, brings the master's feelings towards hiscompatriot, and also his irritability, most vividly before thereader. 

 Here he is! He has just come in to see me--a tall strong individual who wears moustaches; he sits down at the piano and improvises, without knowing exactly what. He knocks, strikes, and crosses his hands, without reason; he demolishes in five minutes a poor helpless key; he has enormous fingers, made rather to handle reins and whip somewhere on the confines of Ukraine. Here you have the portrait of S. .. Who has no other merit than that of having small moustaches and a good heart. If I ever thought of imagining what stupidity and charlatanism in art are, I have now the clearest perception of them. I run through my room with my ears reddening; I have a mad desire to throw the door wide open; but one has to spare him, to show one's self almost affectionate. No, you cannot imagine what it is: here one sees only his neckties; one does him the honour of taking him seriously. .. . There remains, therefore, nothing but to bear him. What exasperates me is his collection of little songs, compositions in the most vulgar style, without the least knowledge of the most elementary rules of harmony and poetry, concluding with quadrille ritornelli, and which he calls Recueil de Chants Polonais. You know how I wished to understand, and how I have in part succeeded in understanding, our national music. Therefore you will judge what pleasure I experience when, laying hold of a motive of mine here and there, without taking account of the fact that all the beauty of a melody depends on the accompaniment, he reproduces it with the taste of a frequenter of suburban taverns (guinguettes) and public-houses (cabarets). And one cannot say anything to him, for he comprehends nothing beyond what he has taken from you. 

Edouard Wolff came to Paris in 1835, provided with a letter ofintroduction from Chopin's master Zywny; [FOOTNOTE: See Vol. I. , p. 31. ] but, notwithstanding this favourable opening of theiracquaintanceship, he was only for some time on visiting termswith his more distinguished compatriot. Wolff himself told methat Chopin would never hear one of his compositions. From anyother informant I would not have accepted this statement asprobable, still less as true. [FOOTNOTE: Wolff dedicated in 1841his Grand Allegro de Concert pour piano still, Op. 59, a son amiChopin; but the latter never repaid him the compliment. ] Theseremarks about Wolff remind me of another piece of information Igot from this pianist-composer a few months before his death--namely, that Chopin hated all Jews, Meyerbeer and Halevy amongthe rest. What Pole does not hate the Jews? That Chopin was notenamoured of them we have seen in his letters. But that he hatedMeyerbeer is a more than doubtful statement. Franchomme said tome that Meyerbeer was not a great friend of Chopin's; but thatthe latter, though he did not like his music, liked him as a man. If Lenz reports accurately, Meyerbeer's feelings towards Chopinwere, no doubt, warmer than Chopin's towards Meyerbeer. Whenafter the scene about the rhythm of a mazurka Chopin had left theroom, Lenz introduced himself to Meyerbeer as a friend of theCounts Wielhorski, of St. Petersburg. On coming to the door, where a coupe was waiting, the composer offered to drive himhome, and when they were seated said:--

 I had not seen Chopin for a long time, I love him very much. I know no pianist like him, no composer for the piano like him. The piano lives on nuances and on cantilena; it is an instrument of intimacy [ein Intimitalsinstrument], I also was once a pianist, and there was a time when I trained myself to be a virtuoso. Visit me when you come to Berlin. Are we not now comrades? When one has met at the house of so great a man, it was for life. 

Kwiatkowski told me a pretty story which se non vero is certainlyben trovato. When on one occasion Meyerbeer had fallen out withhis wife, he sat down to the piano and played a nocturne or someother composition which Chopin had sent him. And such was theeffect of the music on his helpmate that she came and kissed him. Thereupon Meyerbeer wrote Chopin a note telling him of what hadtaken place, and asking him to come and see their conjugalhappiness. Among the few musicians with whom Chopin had in lateryears friendly relations stands out prominently, both by hisgenius and the preference shown him, the pianist and composerAlkan aine (Charles Henri Valentine), who, however, was not sointimate with the Polish composer as Franchomme, nor on such easyterms of companionship as Hiller and Liszt had been. Theoriginality of the man and artist, his high aims and unselfishstriving, may well have attracted Chopin; but as an importantpoint in Alkan's favour must be reckoned the fact that he wasalso a friend of George Sand's. Indeed, some of the limitationsof Chopin's intercourse were, no doubt, made on her account. Kwiatkowski told me that George Sand hated Chopin's Polishfriends, and that some of them were consequently not admitted atall and others only reluctantly. Now suppose that she dislikedalso some of the non-Polish friends, musicians as well as others, would not her influence act in the same way as in the case of thePoles?

But now I must say a few words about Chopin and Liszt'sfriendship, and how it came to an end. This connection of thegreat pianists has been the subject of much of that sentimentaltalk of which writers on music and of musical biography are sofond. This, however, which so often has been represented as anideal friendship, was really no friendship at all, but merelycomradeship. Both admired each other sincerely as musicians. IfChopin did not care much for Liszt's compositions, he had thehighest opinion of him as a pianist. We have seen in the letterof June 20, 1833, addressed to Hiller and conjointly written byChopin and Liszt, how delighted Chopin was with Liszt's manner ofplaying his studies, and how he wished to be able to rob him ofit. He said on one occasion to his pupil Mdlle. Kologrivof[FOOTNOTE: Afterwards Madame Rubio. ]: "I like my music when Lisztplays it. " No doubt, it was Liszt's book with itstranscendentally-poetic treatment which induced the false notionnow current. Yet whoever keeps his eyes open can read between thelines what the real state of matters was. The covert sneers atand the openly-expressed compassion for his comrade's whims, weaknesses, and deficiencies, tell a tale. Of Chopin's sentimentswith regard to Liszt we have more than sufficient evidence. Mr. Halle, who arrived in Paris at the end of 1840, was stronglyrecommended to the banker Mallet. This gentleman, to give him anopportunity to make the acquaintance of the Polish pianist, invited both to dinner. On this occasion Mr. Halle asked Chopinabout Liszt, but the reticent answer he got was indicative ratherof dislike than of anything else. When in 1842 Lenz took lessonsfrom Chopin, the latter defined his relations with Liszt thus:"We are friends, we were comrades. " What he meant by the firsthalf of the statement was, no doubt: "Now we meet only on termsof polite acquaintanceship. " When the comradeship came to an endI do not know, but I think I do know how it came to an end. WhenI asked Liszt about the cause of the termination of theirfriendship, he said: "Our lady-loves had quarrelled, and as goodcavaliers we were in duty bound to side with them. " [FOOTNOTE:Liszt's words in describing to me his subsequent relation withChopin were similar to those of Chopin to Lenz. He said: "Therewas a cessation of intimacy, but no enmity. I left Paris soonafter, and never saw him again. "] This, however, was merely a wayto get rid of an inconvenient question. Franchomme explained themystery to me, and his explanation was confirmed by what Ilearned from Madame Rubio. The circumstances are of too delicatea nature to be set forth in detail. But the long and short of theaffair is that Liszt, accompanied by another person, invadedChopin's lodgings during his absence, and made himself quite athome there. The discovery of traces of the use to which his roomshad been put justly enraged Chopin. One day, I do not know howlong after the occurrence, Liszt asked Madame Rubio to tell hermaster that he hoped the past would be forgotten and the youngman's trick (Junggesellenstuck) wiped out. Chopin then said thathe could not forget, and was much better as he was; and further, that Liszt was not open enough, having always secrets andintrigues, and had written in some newspapers feuilleton noticesunfavourable to him. This last accusation reminds one at once ofthe remark he made when he heard that Liszt intended to write anaccount of one of his concerts for the Gazette musicale. I havequoted the words already, but may repeat them here: "Il medonnera un petit royaume dans son empire" (He will give me alittle kingdom in his empire). In this, as in most sayings ofChopin regarding Liszt, irritation against the latter isdistinctly noticeable. The cause of this irritation may bemanifold, but Liszt's great success as a concert-player and hisown failure in this respect [FOOTNOTE: I speak here only of hisinability to impress large audiences, to move great masses. ] havecertainly something to do with it. Liszt, who thought solikewise, says somewhere in his book that Chopin knew how toforgive nobly. Whether this was so or not, I do not venture todecide. But I am sure if he forgave, he never forgot. An offenceremained for ever rankling in his heart and mind. 

From Chopin's friends to his pupils is but one step, and not eventhat, for a great many of his pupils were also his friends;indeed, among them were some of those who were nearest to hisheart, and not a few in whose society he took a particulardelight. Before I speak, however, of his teaching, I must say afew words about a subject which equally relates to our artist'sfriends and pupils, and to them rather than to any other class ofpeople with whom he had any dealings. 

 One of his [Chopin's] oddities [writes Liszt] consisted in abstaining from every exchange of letters, from every sending of notes; one could have believed that he had made a vow never to address letters to strangers. It was a curious thing to see him have recourse to all kinds of expedients to escape from the necessity of tracing a few lines. Many times he preferred traversing Paris from one end to the other in order to decline a dinner or give some slight information, to saving himself the trouble by means of a little sheet of paper. His handwriting remained almost unknown to most of his friends. It is said that he sometimes deviated from this habit in favour of his fair compatriots settled at Paris, of whom some are in possession of charming autographs of his, all written in Polish. This breach of what one might have taken as a rule may be explained by the pleasure he took in speaking his language, which he employed in preference, and whose most expressive idioms he delighted in translating to others. Like the Slaves generally, he mastered the French language very well; moreover, owing to his French origin, it had been taught him with particular care. But he accommodated himself badly to it, reproaching it with having little sonority and being of a cold genius. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Notwithstanding his French origin, Chopin spoke French with a foreign accent, some say even with a strong foreign accent. Of his manner of writing French I spoke when quoting his letters to Franchomme (see Vol. I. , p. 258). ]

Liszt's account of Chopin's bizarrerie is in the main correct, although we have, of course, to make some deduction forexaggeration. In fact, Gutmann told me that his master sometimesbegan a letter twenty times, and finally flung down the pen andsaid: "I'll go and tell her [or "him, " as the case might be]myself. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CHOPIN AS A TEACHER: HIS SUCCESS OR WANT OF SUCCESS AS SUCH; HISPUPILS, AMATEUR AND PROFESSIONAL; METHOD OF TEACHING; ANDTEACHING REPERTOIRE. 

As Chopin rarely played in public and could not make acomfortable living by his compositions, there remained nothingfor him but to teach, which, indeed, he did till his strengthforsook him. But so far from regarding teaching as a burden, sayshis pupil Mikuli, he devoted himself to it with real pleasure. Ofcourse, a teacher can only take pleasure in teaching when he haspupils of the right sort. This advantage, however, Chopin mayhave enjoyed to a greater extent than most masters, for accordingto all accounts it was difficult to be received as a pupil--he byno means gave lessons to anyone who asked for them. As long as hewas in fair health, he taught during the season from four to fivehours a day, in later years only, or almost only, at home. Hisfee for a lesson was twenty francs, which were deposited by thepupil on the mantelpiece. 

Was Chopin a good teacher? His pupils without exception mostpositively affirm it. But outsiders ask: How is it, then, that sogreat a virtuoso has not trained players who have made the worldring with their fame? Mr. Halle, whilst pointing out the factthat Chopin's pupils have not distinguished themselves, did notwish to decide whether this was owing to a deficiency in themaster or to some other cause. Liszt, in speaking to me on thissubject, simply remarked: "Chopin was unfortunate in his pupils--none of them has become a player of any importance, although someof his noble pupils played very well. " If we compare Liszt'spianistic offspring with Chopin's, the difference is indeedstriking. But here we have to keep in mind several considerations--Chopin taught for a shorter period than Liszt; most of hispupils, unlike Liszt's, were amateurs; and he may not have metwith the stuff out of which great virtuosos are made. That Chopinwas unfortunate in his pupils may be proved by the early death ofseveral very promising ones. Charles Filtsch, born atHermannstadt, Transylvania (Hungary), about 1830, of whom Lisztand Lenz spoke so highly (see Chapter XXVI. ), died on May 11, 1845, at Venice, after having in 1843 made a sensation in Londonand Vienna, both by the poetical and technical qualities of hisplaying. In London "little Filtsch" played at least twice inpublic (on June 14 at the St. James's Theatre between two plays, and on July 4 at a matinee of his own at the Hanover SquareRooms), repeatedly in private, and had also the honour to appearbefore the Queen at Buckingham Palace. J. W. Davison relates inhis preface to Chopin's mazurkas and waltzes (Boosey & Co. ) acircumstance which proves the young virtuoso's musicianship. "Engaged to perform Chopin's second concerto in public, theorchestral parts not being obtainable, Filtsch, nothing dismayed, wrote out the whole of them from memory. " Another short-livedgreat talent was Paul Gunsberg. "This young man, " Madame Duboisinformed me, "was endowed with an extraordinary organisation. Chopin had made of him an admirable executant. He died ofconsumption, otherwise he would have become celebrated. " I do notknow in which year Gunsberg died. He was still alive on May 11, 1855. For on that day he played with his fellow-pupil Tellefsen, at a concert given by the latter in Paris, a duet of Schumann's. A third pupil of Chopin prematurely snatched away by death wasCaroline Hartmann, the daughter of a manufacturer, born atMunster, near Colmar, in 1808. She came to Paris in 1833, anddied the year after--of love for Chopin, as Edouard Wolff toldme. Other authorities, however, ascribe the sad effect to a lessromantic cause. They say that through persevering study under thedirection of Chopin and Liszt she became an excellent pianist, but that the hard work brought on a chest complaint to which shesuccumbed on July 30, 1834. The GAZETTE MUSICALE of August 17, 1834, which notices her death, describes her as a pupil of Liszt, Chopin, and Pixis, without commenting on her abilities. Spohradmired her as a child. But if Chopin has not turned outvirtuosos of the calibre of Tausig and Hans von Bulow, he hasnevertheless formed many very clever pianists. It would serve nopurpose except that of satisfying idle curiosity to draw up alist of all the master's ascertainable pupils. Those who wish, however, to satisfy this idle curiosity can do so to some extentby scanning the dedications of Chopin's works, as the namestherein to be found--with a few and mostly obvious exceptions--are those of pupils. The array of princesses, countesses, &c. , will, it is to be hoped, duly impress the investigator. Let ushear what the illustrious master Marmontel has to say on thissubject:--

 Among the pianist-composers who have had the immense advantage of taking lessons from Chopin, to impregnate themselves with his style and manner, we must cite Gutmann, Lysberg, and our dear colleague G. Mathias. The Princesses de Chimay, Czartoryska, the Countesses Esterhazy, Branicka, Potocka, de Kalergis, d'Est; Mdlles. Muller and de Noailles were his cherished disciples [disciples affectionnees]. Madame Dubois, nee O'Meara, is also one of his favourite pupils [eleves de predilection], and numbers among those whose talent has best preserved the characteristic traditions and procedures [procedes] of the master. 

Two of Chopin's amateur and a few more of his professional pupilsought to be briefly noticed here--first and chiefly of theamateurs, the Princess Marcelline Czartoryska, who has sometimesplayed in public for charitable purposes, and of whom it hasoften been said that she is the most faithful transmitter of hermaster's style. Would the praise which is generally lavished uponher have been so enthusiastic if the lady had been a professionalpianist instead of a princess? The question is ungracious in onewho has not had the pleasure of hearing her, but not unnaturallysuggests itself. Be this as it may, that she is, or was, a goodplayer, who as an intimate friend and countrywoman thoroughlyentered into the spirit of her master's music, seems beyondquestion. 

[FOOTNOTE: "The Princess Marcelline Czartoryska, " wrote Sowinskiin 1857 in the article "Chopin" of his "Musicien polonais, " "whohas a fine execution, seems to have inherited Chopin's ways ofprocedure, especially in phrasing and accentuation. Lately thePrincess performed at Paris with much success the magnificent Fminor Concerto at a concert for the benefit of the poor. " Acritic, writing in the Gazette Musicale of March 11, 1855, of aconcert given by the Princess--at which she played an andantewith variations for piano and violoncello by Mozart, a rondo forpiano and orchestra by Mendelssohn, and Chopin's F minorConcerto, being assisted by Alard as conductor, the violoncellistFranchomme, and the singers Madame Viardot and M. Fedor--praisedespecially her rendering of the ADAGIO in Chopin's Concerto. Lenzwas the most enthusiastic admirer of the Princess I have metwith. He calls her (in the Berliner Musikzeitung, Vol. XXVI) ahighly-gifted nature, the best pupil [Schulerin] of Chopin, andthe incarnation of her master's pianoforte style. At a musicalparty at the house of the Counts Wilhorski at St. Petersburg, where she performed a waltz and the Marche funebre by Chopin, herplaying made such an impression that it was thought improper tohave any more music on that evening, the trio of the marchhaving, indeed, moved the auditors to tears. The Princess toldLenz that on one occasion when Chopin played to her this trio, she fell on her knees before him and felt unspeakably happy. ]

G. Chouquet reminded me not to omit to mention among Chopin'spupils Madame Peruzzi, the wife of the ambassador of the Duke ofTuscany to the court of Louis Philippe:--

 This virtuosa [wrote to me the late keeper of the Musee of the Paris Conservatoire] had no less talent than the Princess Marcelline Czartoryska. I heard her at Florence in 1852, and I can assure you that she played Chopin's music in the true style and with all the unpublished traits of the master. She was of Russian origin. 

But enough of amateurs. Mdlle. Friederike Muller, now for manyyears married to the Viennese pianoforte-maker J. B. Streicher, is regarded by many as the most, and is certainly one of the mostgifted of Chopin's favourite pupils. [FOOTNOTE: She playedalready in public at Vienna in the fourth decade of this century, which must have been before her coming to Paris (see EduardHanslick, Geschichte des Concertwesens in Wien, p. 326). Marriagebrought the lady's professional career to a close. ] That thecomposer dedicated to her his Allegro de Concert, Op. 46, may beregarded as a mark of his love and esteem for her. Carl Mikulifound her assistance of great importance in the preparation ofhis edition of Chopin's works, as she had received lessons fromthe master for several years, and, moreover, had had manyopportunities of hearing him on other occasions. The sameauthority refers to Madame Dubois (nee O'Meara) [FOOTNOTE: Arelation of Edward Barry O'Meara, physician to the first Napoleonat St. Helena, and author of "Napoleon in Exile. "] and to MadameRubio (NEE Vera de Kologrivof) as to "two extremely excellentpianists [hochst ausgezeichnete Pianistinnen] whose talentenjoyed the advantage of the master's particular care. " Thelatter lady was taught by Chopin from 1842 to 1849, and in thelast years of his life assisted him, as we shall see, by takingpartial charge of some of his pupils. Madame Dubois, who studiedunder Kalkbrenner from the age of nine to thirteen, became then apupil of Chopin, with whom she remained five years. It was verydifficult to obtain his consent to take another pupil, but theinfluence of M. Albrecht, a common friend of her father's andChopin's, stood her in good stead. Although I heard her play onlyone or two of her master's minor pieces, and under veryunfavourable circumstances too--namely, at the end of theteaching season and in a tropical heat--I may say that her suavetouch, perfect legato, and delicate sentiment seemed to me tobear out the above-quoted remark of M. Marmontel. Madame Dubois, who is one of the most highly-esteemed teachers of the piano inParis, used to play till recently in public, although lessfrequently in later than in earlier years. And here I mustextract a passage from Madame Girardin's letter of March 7, 1847, in Vol. IV. Of "Le Vicomte de Launay, " where, after describingMdlle. O'Meara's beauty, more especially her Irish look--"thatmixture of sadness and serenity, of profound tenderness and shydignity, which you never find in the proud and brilliant lookswhich you admire in the women of other nations "--she says:--

 We heard her a few hours ago; she played in a really superior way the beautiful Concerto of Chopin in E flat minor [of course E minor]; she was applauded with enthusiasm. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin accompanied on a second piano. The occasion was a soiree at the house of Madame de Courbonne. ] All we can say to give you an idea of Mdlle. O'Meara's playing is that there is in her playing all that is in her look, and in addition to it an admirable method, and excellent fingering. Her success has been complete; in hearing her, statesmen were moved. .. And the young ladies, those who are good musicians, forgave her her prettiness. 

As regards Chopin's male pupils, we have to note George Mathias(born at Paris in 1826), the well-known professor of the piano atthe Paris Conservatoire, [FOOTNOTE: He retired a year or twoago. ] and still more widely-known composer of more than half-a-hundred important works (sonatas, trios, concertos, symphoniccompositions, pianoforte pieces, songs, &c. ), who enjoyed themaster's teaching from 1839 to 1844; Lysberg (1821-1873), whosereal name was Charles Samuel Bovy, for many years professor ofthe piano at the Conservatoire of his native town, Geneva, and avery fertile composer of salon pieces for the piano (composeralso of a one-act comic opera, La Fills du Carillonneur), distinguished by "much poetic feeling, an extremely careful form, an original colouring, and in which one often seems to see pass abreath of Weber or Chopin"; [FOOTNOTE: Supplement et Complementto Fetis' Biographie universelle des Musiciens, published underthe direction of Arthur Pougin. ] the Norwegian Thomas Dyke AclandTellefsen (1823-1874), a teacher of the piano in Paris and authorof an edition of Chopin's works; Carl Mikuli (born at Czernowitzin 1821), since 1858 artistic director of the Galician MusicalSociety (conservatoire, concerts, &c. ), and author of an editionof Chopin's works; and Adolph Gutmann, the master's favouritepupil par excellence, of whom we must speak somewhat more atlength. Karasowski makes also mention of Casimir Wernik, who diedat St. Petersburg in 1859, and of Gustav Schumann, a teacher ofthe piano at Berlin, who, however, was only during the winter of1840-1841 with the Polish master. For Englishmen the fact of thelate Brinley Richards and Lindsay Sloper having been pupils ofChopin--the one for a short, the other for a longer period--willbe of special interest. 

Adolph Gutmann was a boy of fifteen when in 1834 his fatherbrought him to Paris to place him under Chopin. The latter, however, did not at first feel inclined to accept the proposedtrust; but on hearing the boy play he conceived so high an ideaof his capacities that he agreed to undertake his artisticeducation. Chopin seems to have always retained a thorough beliefin his muscular pupil, although some of his great pianist friendsthought this belief nothing but a strange delusion. There arealso piquant anecdotes told by fellow-pupils with the purpose ofshowing that Chopin did not care very much for him. For instance, the following: Some one asked the master how his pupil wasgetting on, "Oh, he makes very good chocolate, " was the answer. Unfortunately, I cannot speak of Gutmann's playing fromexperience, for although I spent eight days with him, it was on amountain-top in the Tyrol, where there were no pianos. ButChopin's belief in Gutmann counts with me for something, and sodoes Moscheles' reference to him as Chopin's "excellent pupil";more valuable, I think, than either is the evidence of Dr. A. C. Mackenzie, who at my request visited Gutmann several times inFlorence and was favourably impressed by his playing, in which henoticed especially beauty of tone combined with power. As far asI can make out Gutmann planned only once, in 1846, a regularconcert-tour, being furnished for it by Chopin with letters ofintroduction to the highest personages in Berlin, Warsaw, and St. Petersburg. Through the intervention of the Countess Rossi(Henriette Sontag), he was invited to play at a court-concert atCharlottenburg in celebration of the King's birthday. [FOOTNOTE:His part of the programme consisted of his master's E minorConcerto (2nd and 3rd movements) and No. 3 of the first book ofstudies, and his own tenth study. ] But the day after the concerthe was seized with such home-sickness that he returned forthwithto Paris, where he made his appearance to the great astonishmentof Chopin. The reader may perhaps be interested in what a writerin the Gazette Musicale said about Chopin's favourite pupil onMarch 24, 1844:--

 M. Gutmann is a pianist with a neat but somewhat cold style of playing; he has what one calls fingers, and uses them with much dexterity. His manner of proceeding is rather that of Thalberg than of the clever professor who has given him lessons. He afforded pleasure to the lovers of the piano [amateurs de piano] at the musical SOIREE which he gave last Monday at M. Erard's. Especially his fantasia on the "Freischutz" was applauded. 

Of course, the expression of any individual opinion is noconclusive proof. Gutmann was so successful as a teacher and in away also as a composer (his compositions, I may say in passing, were not in his master's but in a light salon style) that at acomparatively early period of his life he was able to retire fromhis profession. After travelling for some time he settled atFlorence, where he invented the art, or, at least, practised theart which he had previously invented, of painting with oil-colours on satin. He died at Spezzia on October 27, 1882. 

[FOOTNOTE: The short notice of Gutmann in Fetis' BiographieUniverselle des Musiciens, and those of the followers of this byno means infallible authority, are very incorrect. AdolfoGutmann, Riccordi Biografici, by Giulio Piccini (Firenze:Guiseppe Polverini, 1881), reproduces to a great extent theinformation contained in Der Lieblingsschuler Chopin's inBernhard Stavenow's Schone Geister (Bremen: Kuhlmann, 1879), bothwhich publications, eulogistic rather than biographical, wereinspired by Gutmann. ]

Whatever interest the reader may have taken in this survey ofChopin's pupils, he is sure to be more deeply interested by theaccount of the master's manner and method of teaching. Such anaccount, which would be interesting in the case of any remarkablevirtuoso who devoted himself to instruction, is so in a higherdegree in that of Chopin: first, because it may help us to solvethe question why so unique a virtuoso did not form a singleeminent concert-player; secondly, because it throws still furtherlight on his character as a man and artist; and thirdly, because, as Mikuli thinks may be asserted without exaggeration, "onlyChopin's pupils knew the pianist in the fulness of his unrivalledheight. " The materials at my disposal are abundant and not lesstrustworthy than abundant. My account is based chiefly on thecommunications made to me by a number of the master's pupils--notably, Madame Dubois, Madame Rubio, M. Mathias, and Gutmann--and on Mikuli's excellent preface to his edition of Chopin'sworks. When I have drawn upon other sources, I have not done sowithout previous examination and verification. I may add that Ishall use as far as possible the ipsissima verba of myinformants:--

 As to Chopin's method of teaching [wrote to me M. Mathias], it was absolutely of the old legato school, of the school of Clementi and Cramer. Of course, he had enriched it by a great variety of touch [d'une grande variete dans l'attaque de la touche]; he obtained a wonderful variety of tone and NUANCES of tone; in passing I may tell you that he had an extraordinary vigour, but only by flashes [ce ne pouvait etre que par eclairs]. 

The Polish master, who was so original in many ways, differedfrom his confreres even in the way of starting his pupils. Withhim the normal position of the hand was not that above the keysc, d, e, f, g (i. E. , above five white keys), but that above thekeys e, f sharp, g sharp, a sharp, b (I. E. , above two white keysand three black keys, the latter lying between the former). Thehand had to be thrown lightly on the keyboard so as to rest onthese keys, the object of this being to secure for it not only anadvantageous, but also a graceful position:--

[FOOTNOTE: Kleczynski, in Chopin: De l'interpretation de sesoeuvres--Trois conferences faites a Varsovie, says that he wastold by several of the master's pupils that the latter sometimesheld his hands absolutely flat. When I asked Madame Dubois aboutthe correctness of this statement, she replied: "I never noticedChopin holding his hands flat. " In short, if Chopin put his handsat any time in so awkward a position, it was exceptional;physical exhaustion may have induced him to indulge in suchnegligence when the technical structure of the music he wasplaying permitted it. ]

 Chopin [Madame Dubois informed me] made his pupils begin with the B major scale, very slowly, without stiffness. Suppleness was his great object. He repeated, without ceasing, during the lesson: "Easily, easily" [facilement, facilement]. Stiffness exasperated him. 

How much stiffness and jerkiness exasperated him may be judgedfrom what Madame Zaleska related to M. Kleczynski. A pupil havingplayed somewhat carelessly the arpeggio at the beginning of thefirst study (in A flat major) of the second book of Clementi'sPreludes et Exercices, the master jumped from his chair andexclaimed: "What is that? Has a dog been barking?" [Qu'est-ce?Est-ce un chien qui vient d'aboyer?] The rudeness of thisexclamation will, no doubt, surprise. But polite as Chopingenerally was, irritation often got the better of him, moreespecially in later years when bad health troubled him. Whetherhe ever went the length of throwing the music from the desk andbreaking chairs, as Karasowski says, I do not know and have notheard confirmed by any pupil. Madame Rubio, however, informed methat Chopin was very irritable, and when teaching amateurs usedto have always a packet of pencils about him which, to vent hisanger, he silently broke into bits. Gutmann told me that in theearly stages of his discipleship Chopin sometimes got very angry, and stormed and raged dreadfully; but immediately was kind andtried to soothe his pupil when he saw him distressed and weeping. 

 To be sure [writes Mikuli], Chopin made great demands on the talent and diligence of the pupil. Consequently, there were often des lecons orageuses, as it was called in the school idiom, and many a beautiful eye left the high altar of the Cite d'Orleans, Rue St. Lazare, bedewed with tears, without, on that account, ever bearing the dearly-beloved master the least grudge. For was not the severity which was not easily satisfied with anything, the feverish vehemence with which the master wished to raise his disciples to his own stand-point, the ceaseless repetition of a passage till it was understood, a guarantee that he had at heart the progress of the pupil? A holy artistic zeal burnt in him then, every word from his lips was incentive and inspiring. Single lessons often lasted literally for hours at a stretch, till exhaustion overcame master and pupil. 

Indeed, the pupils were so far from bearing their master theleast grudge that, to use M. Marmontel's words, they had more forhim than admiration: a veritable idolatry. But it is time thatafter this excursion--which hardly calls for an excuse--we returnto the more important part of our subject, the master's method ofteaching. 

 What concerned Chopin most at the commencement of his instruction [writes Mikuli] was to free the pupil from every stiffness and convulsive, cramped movement of the hand, and to give him thus the first condition of a beautiful style of playing, souplesse (suppleness), and with it independence of the fingers. He taught indefatigably that the exercises in question were no mere mechanical ones, but called for the intelligence and the whole will of the pupil, on which account twenty and even forty thoughtless repetitions (up to this time the arcanum of so many schools) do no good at all, still less the practising during which, according to Kalkbrenner's advice, one may occupy one's self simultaneously with some kind of reading(!). 

 He feared above all [remarked Madame Dubois to me] the abrutissement of the pupils. One day he heard me say that I practised six hours a day. He became quite angry, and forbade me to practise more than three hours. This was also the advice of Hummel in his pianoforte school. 

To resume Mikuli's narrative:--

 Chopin treated very thoroughly the different kinds of touch, especially the full-toned [tonvolle] legato. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Karasowski says that Chopin demanded absolutely from his pupils that they should practise the exercises, and especially the scales in major and minor, from piano to fortissimo, staccato as well as legato, and also with a change of accent, which was to be now on the second, now on the third, now on the fourth note. Madame Dubois, on the other hand, is sure she was never told by her master to play the scales staccato. ]

 "As gymnastic helps he recommended the bending inward and outward of the wrist, the repeated touch from the wrist, the extending of the fingers, but all this with the earnest warning against over-fatigue. He made his pupils play the scales with a full tone, as connectedly as possible, very slowly and only gradually advancing to a quicker TEMPO, and with metronomic evenness. The passing of the thumb under the other fingers and the passing of the latter over the former was to be facilitated by a corresponding turning inward of the hand. The scales with many black keys (B, F sharp, and D flat) were first studied, and last, as the most difficult, C major. In the same sequence he took up Clementi's Preludes et Exercices, a work which for its utility he esteemed very highly. "

 [FOOTNOTE: Kleczynski writes that whatever the degree of instruction was which Chopin's pupils brought with them, they had all to play carefully besides the scales the second book of Clementi's Preludes et Exercices, especially the first in A flat major. ]

 According to Chopin the evenness of the scales (also of the arpeggios) not merely depended on the utmost equal strengthening of all fingers by means of five-finger exercises and on a thumb entirely free at the passing under and over, but rather on a lateral movement (with the elbow hanging quite down and always easy) of the hand, not by jerks, but continuously and evenly flowing, which he tried to illustrate by the glissando over the keyboard. Of studies he gave after this a selection of Cramer's Etudes, Clementi's Gradus ad Parnassum, Moscheles' style-studies for the higher development (which were very sympathetic to him), and J. S. Bach's suites and some fugues from Das wohltemperirte Clavier. In a certain way Field's and his own nocturnes numbered likewise with the studies, for in them the pupil was--partly by the apprehension of his explanations, partly by observation and imitation (he played them to the pupil unweariedly)--to learn to know, love, and execute the beautiful smooth [gebundene] vocal tone and the legato. 

 [FOOTNOTE: This statement can only be accepted with much reserve. Whether Chopin played much or little to his pupil depended, no doubt, largely on the mood and state of health he was in at the time, perhaps also on his liking or disliking the pupil. The late Brinley Richards told me that when he had lessons from Chopin, the latter rarely played to him, making his corrections and suggestions mostly by word of mouth. ]

 With double notes and chords he demanded most strictly simultaneous striking, breaking was only allowed when it was indicated by the composer himself; shakes, which he generally began with the auxiliary note, had not so much to be played quick as with great evenness the conclusion of the shake quietly and without precipitation. For the turn (gruppetto) and the appoggiatura he recommended the great Italian singers as models. Although he made his pupils play octaves from the wrist, they must not thereby lose in fulness of tone. 

All who have had the good fortune to hear Chopin play agree indeclaring that one of the most distinctive features of his styleof execution was smoothness, and smoothness, as we have seen inthe foregoing notes, was also one of the qualities on which hemost strenuously insisted in the playing of his pupils. Thereader will remember Gutmann's statement to me, mentioned in aprevious chapter, that all his master's fingering was calculatedfor the attainment of this object. Fingering is the mainspring, the determining principle, one might almost say the life andsoul, of the pianoforte technique. We shall, therefore, do wellto give a moment's consideration to Chopin's fingering, especially as he was one of the boldest and most influentialrevolutionisers of this important department of the pianisticart. His merits in this as in other respects, his various claimsto priority of invention, are only too often overlooked. As atone time all ameliorations in the theory and practice of musicwere ascribed to Guido of Arezzo, so it is nowadays the fashionto ascribe all improvements and extensions of the pianofortetechnique to Liszt, who more than any other pianist drew uponhimself the admiration of the world, and who through his pupilscontinued to make his presence felt even after the close of hiscareer as a virtuoso. But the cause of this false opinion is tobe sought not so much in the fact that the brilliancy of hisartistic personality threw all his contemporaries into the shade, as in that other fact, that he gathered up into one web the manythreads new and old which he found floating about during theyears of his development. The difference between Liszt and Chopinlies in this, that the basis of the former's art is universality, that of the latter's, individuality. Of the fingering of the onewe may say that it is a system, of that of the other that it is amanner. Probably we have here also touched on the cause ofLiszt's success and Chopin's want of success as a teacher. Icalled Chopin a revolutioniser of fingering, and, I think, hisfull enfranchisement of the thumb, his breaking-down of alldistinctions of rank between the other fingers, in short, theintroduction of a liberty sometimes degenerating into licence, justifies the expression. That this master's fingering isoccasionally eccentric (presupposing peculiarly flexible handsand a peculiar course of study) cannot be denied; on the whole, however, it is not only well adapted for the proper rendering ofhis compositions, but also contains valuable contributions to auniversal system of fingering. The following particulars byMikuli will be read with interest, and cannot be misunderstoodafter what has just now been said on the subject:--

 In the notation of fingering, especially of that peculiar to himself, Chopin was not sparing. Here pianoforte-playing owes him great innovations which, on account of their expedience, were soon adopted, notwithstanding the horror with which authorities like Kalkbrenner at first regarded them. Thus, for instance, Chopin used without hesitation the thumb on the black keys, passed it even under the little finger (it is true, with a distinct inward bend of the wrist), if this could facilitate the execution and give it more repose and evenness. With one and the same finger he took often two consecutive keys (and this not only in gliding down from a black to the next white key) without the least interruption of the sequence being noticeable. The passing over each other of the longer fingers without the aid of the thumb (see Etude, No. 2, Op. 10) he frequently made use of, and not only in passages where the thumb stationary on a key made this unavoidably necessary. The fingering of the chromatic thirds based on this (as he marked it in Etude, No. 5, Op. 25) affords in a much higher degree than that customary before him the possibility of the most beautiful legato in the quickest tempo and with a perfectly quiet hand. 

But if with Chopin smoothness was one of the qualities upon whichhe insisted strenuously in the playing of his pupils, he was byno means satisfied with a mere mechanical perfection. He advisedhis pupils to undertake betimes thorough theoretical studies, recommending his friend, the composer and theorist Henri Reber asa teacher. He advised them also to cultivate ensemble playing--trios, quartets, &c. , if first-class partners could be had, otherwise pianoforte duets. Most urgent, however, he was in hisadvice to them to hear good singing, and even to learn to sing. To Madame Rubio he said: "You must sing if you wish to play"; andmade her take lessons in singing and hear much Italian opera--this last, the lady remarked, Chopin regarded as positivelynecessary for a pianoforte-player. In this advice we recogniseChopin's ideal of execution: beauty of tone, intelligentphrasing, truthfulness and warmth of expression. The sounds whichhe drew from the pianoforte were pure tone without the leastadmixture of anything that might be called noise. "He neverthumped, " was Gutmann's remark to me. Chopin, according toMikuli, repeatedly said that when he heard bad phrasing itappeared to him as if some one recited, in a language he did notknow, a speech laboriously memorised, not only neglecting toobserve the right quantity of the syllables, but perhaps evenmaking full stops in the middle of words. "The badly-phrasingpseudo-musician, " he thought, "showed that music was not hismother-tongue, but something foreign, unintelligible to him, " andthat, consequently, "like that reciter, he must altogether giveup the idea of producing any effect on the auditor by hisrendering. " Chopin hated exaggeration and affectation. Hisprecept was: "Play as you feel. " But he hated the want of feelingas much as false feeling. To a pupil whose playing gave evidenceof nothing but the possession of fingers, he said emphatically, despairingly: "METTEZ-Y DONc TOUTE VOTRE AME!" (Do put all yoursoul into it!)

[FOOTNOTE: "In dynamical shading [im nuanciren], " says Mikuli, "he was exceedingly particular about a gradual increase anddecrease of loudness. " Karasowski writes: "Exaggeration inaccentuation was hateful to him, for, in his opinion, it tookaway the poesy from playing, and gave it a certain didacticpedantry. "]

 On declamation, and rendering in general [writes Mikuli], he gave his pupils invaluable and significant instructions and hints, but, no doubt, effected more certain results by repeatedly playing not only single passages, but whole pieces, and this he did with a conscientiousness and enthusiasm that perhaps he hardly gave anyone an opportunity of hearing when he played in a concert-room. Frequently the whole hour passed without the pupil having played more than a few bars, whilst Chopin, interrupting and correcting him on a Pleyel cottage piano (the pupil played always on an excellent grand piano; and it was enjoined upon him as a duty to practise only on first-class instruments), presented to him for his admiration and imitation the life-warm ideal of the highest beauty. 

With regard to Chopin's playing to his pupils we must keep inmind what was said in foot-note 12 on page 184. On another pointin the above quotation one of Madame Dubois's communications tome throws some welcome light:--

 Chopin [she said] had always a cottage piano [pianino] by the side of the grand piano on which he gave his lessons. It was marvellous to hear him accompany, no matter what compositions, from the concertos of Hummel to those of Beethoven. He performed the role of the orchestra most wonderfully [d'une facon prodigieuse]. When I played his own concertos, he accompanied me in this way. 

Judging from various reports, Chopin seems to have regarded hisPolish pupils as more apt than those of other nationalities to dofull justice to his compositions. Karasowski relates that whenone of Chopin's French pupils played his compositions and theauditors overwhelmed the performer with their praise, the masterused often to remark that his pupil had done very well, but thatthe Polish element and the Polish enthusiasm had been wanting. Here it is impossible not to be reminded of the contentionbetween Chopin on the one hand and Liszt and Hiller on the otherhand about the possibility of foreigners comprehending Polishnational music (See Vol. 1. , p. 256). After revealing the mysteryof Chopin's tempo rubato, Liszt writes in his book on thismaster:--

 All his compositions have to be played with this sort of balancement accentue et prosodie, this morbidezza, of which it was difficult to seize the secret when one had not heard him often. He seemed desirous to teach this manner to his numerous pupils, especially to his compatriots, to whom he wished, more than to others, to communicate the breath of his inspiration. These [ceux-ci, ou plutot celles-la] seized it with that aptitude which they have for all matters of sentiment and poesy. An innate comprehension of his thought permitted them to follow all the fluctuations of his azure wave. 

There is one thing which is worth inquiring into before we closethis chapter, for it may help us to a deeper insight intoChopin's character as a teacher--I mean his teaching repertoire. Mikuli says that, carefully arranged according to theirdifficulty, Chopin placed before his pupils the followingcompositions: the concertos and sonatas of Clementi, Mozart, Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, Dussek, Field, Hummel, Ries, Beethoven;further, Weber, Moscheles, Mendelssohn, Hiller, Schumann, and hisown works. This enumeration, however, does not agree withaccounts from other equally authentic sources. The pupils ofChopin I have conversed and corresponded with never studied anySchumann under their master. As to the cultivation of Beethoven, it was, no doubt, limited. M. Mathias, it is true, told me thatChopin showed a preference for Clementi (Gradus ad Parnassum), Bach, Field (of him much was played, notably his concertos), andnaturally for Beethoven, Weber, &c. --Clementi, Bach, and Fieldbeing always the composers most laid under contribution in thecase of debutants. Madame Rubio, on the other hand, confinedherself to stating that Chopin put her through Hummel, Moscheles, and Bach; and did not mention Beethoven at all. Gutmann'sstatements concerning his master's teaching contain some positiveevidence with regard to the Beethoven question. What he said wasthis: Chopin held that dementi's Gradus ad Parnassum, Bach'spianoforte fugues, and Hummel's compositions were the key topianoforte-playing, and he considered a training in thesecomposers a fit preparation for his own works. He wasparticularly fond of Hummel and his style. Beethoven he seemed tolike less. He appreciated such pieces as the first movement ofthe Moonlight Sonata (C sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 2). Schubert wasa favourite with him. This, then, is what I learned from Gutmann. In parenthesis, as it were, I may ask: Is it not strange that nopupil, with the exception of Mikuli, mentions the name of Mozart, the composer whom Chopin is said to have so much admired? Thanksto Madame Dubois, who at my request had the kindness to make outa list of the works she remembers having studied under Chopin, weshall be able to form a pretty distinct idea of the master'scourse of instruction, which, to be sure, would be modifiedaccording to the capacities of his pupils and the objects theyhad in view. Well, Madame Dubois says that Chopin made her beginwith the second book of Clementi's Preludes et Exercices, andthat she also studied under him the same composer's Gradus adParnassum and Bach's forty-eight preludes and fugues. Of his highopinion of the teaching qualities of Bach's compositions we mayform an idea from the recommendation to her at their last meeting--already mentioned in an earlier chapter--to practise themconstantly, "ce sera votre meilleur moyen de progresser" (thiswill be your best means to make progress). The pieces she studiedunder him included the following ones: Of Hummel, the Rondobrillant sur un theme russe (Op. 98), La Bella capricciosa, theSonata in F sharp minor (Op. 81), the Concertos in A minor and Bminor, and the Septet; of Field, several concertos (the one in Eflat among others) and several nocturnes ("Field" she says, "luietait tres sympathique"); of Beethoven, the concertos and severalsonatas (the Moonlight, Op. 27, No. 2; the one with the FuneralMarch, Op. 26; and the Appassionata, Op. 57); of Weber, theSonatas in C and A flat major (Chopin made his pupils play thesetwo works with extreme care); of Schubert, the Landler and allthe waltzes and some of the duets (the marches, polonaises, andthe Divertissement hongrois, which last piece he admired sansreserve); of Mendelssohn, only the G minor Concerto and the Songswithout Words; of Liszt, no more than La Tarantelle de Rossiniand the Septet from Lucia ("mais ce genre de musique ne luiallait pas, " says my informant); and of Schumann, NOTHING. 

Madame Streicher's interesting reminiscences, given in AppendixIII. , form a supplement to this chapter. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

RUPTURE OF THE SAND-CHOPIN CONNECTION. --HER OWN, LISZT'S, ANDKARASOWSKI'S ACCOUNTS. -THE LUCREZIA FLORIANI INCIDENT. --FURTHERINVESTIGATION OF THE CAUSES OF THE RUPTURE BY THE LIGHT OFLETTERS AND THE INFORMATION OF GUTMANN, FRANCHOMME, AND MADAMERUBIO. --SUMMING-UP OF THE EVIDENCE. --CHOPIN'S COMPOSITIONS IN1847. --GIVES A CONCERT, HIS LAST IN PARIS (1848): WHAT AND HOW HEPLAYED; THE CHARACTER OF THE AUDIENCE. --GEORGE SAND AND CHOPINMEET ONCE MORE. --THE FEBRUARY REVOLUTION; CHOPIN MAKES UP HISMIND TO VISIT ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND. 

WE now come to the catastrophe of Chopin's life, the rupture ofhis connection with George Sand. Although there is no lack ofnarratives in which the causes, circumstances, and time of thisrupture are set forth with absolute positiveness, it isnevertheless an undeniable fact that we are not at the presentmoment, nor, all things well considered, shall be even in themost distant future, in a position to speak on this subjectotherwise than conjecturally. 

[FOOTNOTE: Except the letter of George Sand given on p. 75, andthe note of Chopin to George Sand which will be given a littlefarther on, nothing, I think, of their correspondence has becomepublic. But even if their letters were forth-coming, it is morelikely than not that they would fail to clear up the mystery. Here I ought, perhaps, to reproduce the somewhat improbable storytold in the World of December 14, 1887, by the Pariscorrespondent who signs himself "Theoc. " He writes as follows: "Ihave heard that it was by saving her letters to Chopin that M. Alexandre Dumas won the friendship of George Sand. The anecdoteruns thus: When Chopin died, his sister found amongst his paperssome two hundred letters of Madame Sand, which she took with herto Poland. By chance this lady had some difficulties at thefrontier with the Russian custom-house officials; her trunks wereseized, and the box containing the letters was mislaid and lost. A few years afterwards, one of the custom-house officials foundthe letters and kept them, not knowing the name and the addressof the Polish lady who had lost them. M. Dumas discovered thisfact, and during a journey in Russia he explained to thisofficial how painful it would be if by some indiscretion theseletters of the illustrious novelist ever got into print. 'Let merestore them to Madame Sand, ' said M. Dumas. 'And my duty?' askedthe customs official. 'If anybody ever claims the letters, 'replied M. Dumas, 'I authorise you to say that I stole them. ' Onthis condition M. Dumas, then a young man, obtained the letters, brought them back to Paris, and restored them to Madame Sand, whose acquaintance he thus made. Madame Sand burnt all herletters to Chopin, but she never forgot the service that M. Dumashad rendered her. "]

I have done my utmost to elucidate the tragic event which it isimpossible not to regard as one of the most momentous crises inChopin's life, and have succeeded in collecting besides thematerial already known much that is new; but of what avail isthis for coming to a final decision if we find the depositionshopelessly contradictory, and the witnesses more or lessuntrustworthy--self-interest makes George Sand's evidencesuspicious, the instability of memory that of others. Under thecircumstances it seems to me safest to place before the readerthe depositions of the various witnesses--not, however, withoutcomment--and leave him to form his own conclusions. I shall beginwith the account which George Sand gives in her Ma Vie:--

 After the last relapses of the invalid, his mind had become extremely gloomy, and Maurice, who had hitherto tenderly loved him, was suddenly wounded by him in an unexpected manner about a trifling subject. They embraced each other the next moment, but the grain of sand had fallen into the tranquil lake, and little by little the pebbles fell there, one after another. .. All this was borne; but at last, one day, Maurice, tired of the pin-pricks, spoke of giving up the game. That could not be, and should not be. Chopin would not stand my legitimate and necessary intervention. He bowed his head and said that I no longer loved him. 

 What blasphemy after these eight years of maternal devotion! But the poor bruised heart was not conscious of its delirium. I thought that some months passed at a distance and in silence would heal the wound, and make his friendship again calm and his memory equitable. But the revolution of February came, and Paris became momentarily hateful to this mind incapable of yielding to any commotion in the social form. Free to return to Poland, or certain to be tolerated there, he had preferred languishing ten [and some more] years far from his family, whom he adored, to the pain of seeing his country transformed and deformed [denature]. He had fled from tyranny, as now he fled from liberty. 

 I saw him again for an instant in March, 1848. I pressed his trembling and icy hand. I wished to speak to him, he slipped away. Now it was my turn to say that he no longer loved me. I spared him this infliction, and entrusted all to the hands of Providence and the future. 

 I was not to see him again. There were bad hearts between us. There were good ones too who were at a loss what to do. There were frivolous ones who preferred not to meddle with such delicate matters; Gutmann was not there. 

 I have been told that he had asked for me, regretted me, and loved me filially up to the very end. It was thought fit to conceal this from me till then. It was also thought fit to conceal from him that I was ready to hasten to him. 

Liszt's account is noteworthy because it gives us the opinion ofa man who knew the two principal actors in the drama intimately, and had good opportunities to learn what contemporary societythought about it. Direct knowledge of the facts, however, Liszthad not, for he was no longer a friend either of the one or theother of the two parties:--

 These commencements, of which Madame de Stael spoke, [FOOTNOTE: He alludes to her saying: En amour, il n'y a que des commencemens. ] had already for a long time been exhausted between the Polish artist and the French poet. They had only survived with the one by a violent effort of respect for the ideal which he had gilded with its fatal brilliancy; with the other by a false shame which sophisticated on the pretension to preserve constancy in fidelity. The time came when this factitious existence, which succeeded no longer in galvanising fibres dried up under the eyes of the spiritualistic artist, seemed to him to surpass what honour permitted him not to perceive. No one knew what was the cause or the pretext of the sudden rupture; one saw only that after a violent opposition to the marriage of the daughter of the house, Chopin abruptly left Nohant never to return again. 

However unreliable Liszt's facts may be, the PHILOSOPHY of hisaccount shows real insight. Karasowski, on the other hand, hasneither facts nor insight. He speaks with a novelist's confidenceand freedom of characters whom he in no way knows, and about whomhe has nothing to tell but the vaguest and most doubtful ofsecond-hand hearsays:--

 The depressed invalid became now to her a burden. At first her at times sombre mien and her shorter visits in the sick-room showed him that her sympathy for him was on the decrease; Chopin felt this painfully, but he said nothing. .. \The complaints of Madame Sand that the nursing of the invalid exhausted her strength, complaints which she often gave expression to in his presence, hurt him. He entreated her to leave him alone, to take walks in the fresh air; he implored her not to give up for his sake her amusements, but to frequent the theatre, to give parties, &c. ; he would be contented in quietness and solitude if he only knew that she was happy. At last, when the invalid still failed to think of a separation from her, she chose a heroic means. 

By this heroic means Karasowski understands the publication ofGeorge Sand's novel Lucrezia Floriani (in 1847), concerning whichhe says the story goes that "out of refined cruelty the proof-sheets were handed to him [Chopin] with the request to correctthe misprints. " Karasowski also reports as a "fact" that

 the children of Madame Sand [who, by the way, were a man of twenty-three and a woman of eighteen] said to him [Chopin], pointing to the novel: "M. Chopin, do you know that you are meant by the Prince Karol?". .. In spite of all this the invalid, and therefore less passionate, artist bore with the most painful feeling the mortification caused him by the novel. .. At the beginning of the year 1847 George Sand brought about by a violent scene, the innocent cause of which was her daughter, a complete rupture. To the unjust reproaches which she made to him, he merely replied: "I shall immediately leave your house, and wish henceforth no longer to be regarded by you as living. " These words were very welcome to her; she made no objections, and the very same day the artist left for ever the house of Madame Sand. But the excitement and the mental distress connected with it threw him once more on the sick- bed, and for a long time people seriously feared that he would soon exchange it for a coffin. 

George Sand's view of the Lucrezia Floriani incident must begiven in full. In Ma Vie she writes as follows:--

 It has been pretended that in one of my romances I have painted his [Chopin's] character with a great exactness of analysis. People were mistaken, because they thought they recognised some of his traits; and, proceeding by this system, too convenient to be sure, Liszt himself, in a Life of Chopin, a little exuberant as regards style, but nevertheless full of very good things and very beautiful pages, has gone astray in good faith. I have traced in Prince Karol the character of a man determined in his nature, exclusive in his sentiments, exclusive in his exigencies. 

 Chopin was not such. Nature does not design like art, however realistic it may be. She has caprices, inconsequences, probably not real, but very mysterious. Art only rectifies these inconsequences because it is too limited to reproduce them. 

 Chopin was a resume of these magnificent inconsequences which God alone can allow Himself to create, and which have their particular logic. He was modest on principle, gentle by habit, but he was imperious by instinct and full of a legitimate pride which was unconscious of itself. Hence sufferings which he did not reason and which did not fix themselves on a determined object. 

 Moreover, Prince Karol is not an artist. He is a dreamer, and nothing more; having no genius, he has not the rights of genius. He is, therefore, a personage more true than amiable, and the portrait is so little that of a great artist that Chopin, in reading the manuscript every day on my writing- desk, had not the slightest inclination to deceive himself, he who, nevertheless, was so suspicious. 

 And yet afterwards, by reaction, he imagined, I am told, that this was the case. Enemies (I had such about him who call themselves his friends; as if embittering a suffering heart was not murder, enemies made him believe that this romance was a revelation of his character. At that time his memory was, no doubt, enfeebled: he had forgotten the book, why did he not reread it!

 This history is so little ours! It was the very reverse of it There were between us neither the same raptures [enivrements] nor the same sufferings. Our history had nothing of a romance; its foundation was too simple and too serious for us ever to have had occasion for a quarrel with each other, a propos of each other. 

The arguments advanced by George Sand are anything butconvincing; in fact, her defence is extremely weak. She does noteven tell us that she did not make use of Chopin as a model. Thatshe drew a caricature and not a portrait will hardly be acceptedas an excuse, nay, is sure to be regarded as the very head andfront of her offending. But George Sand had extraordinarily naivenotions on this subject, notions which are not likely to beshared by many, at least not by many outside the fraternities ofnovelists and dramatists. Having mentioned, in speaking of hergrand-uncle the Abbe de Beaumont, that she thought of him whensketching the portrait of a certain canon in Consuelo, and thatshe had very much exaggerated the resemblance to meet therequirements of the romance, she remarks that portraits traced inthis way are no longer portraits, and that those who feeloffended on recognising themselves do an injustice both to theauthor and themselves. "Caricature or idealisation, " she writes, "it is no longer the original model, and this model has littlejudgment if it thinks it recognises itself, if it becomes angryor vain on seeing what art or imagination has been able to makeof it. " This is turning the tables with a vengeance; and ifimpudence can silence the voice of truth and humanity, GeorgeSand has gained her case. In her account of the Lucrezia Florianiincident George Sand proceeds as usual when she is attacked anddoes not find it more convenient simply to declare that she willnot condescend to defend herself--namely, she envelops the wholematter in a mist of beautiful words and sentiments out of whichissues--and this is the only clearly-distinguishable thing--herown saintly self in celestial radiance. But notwithstanding allher arguments and explanations there remains the fact that Lisztand thousands of others, I one of them, read Lucrezia Florianiand were not a moment in doubt that Chopin was the prototype ofPrince Karol. We will not charge George Sand with the atrocity ofwriting the novel for the purpose of getting rid of Chopin; butwe cannot absolve her from the sin of being regardless of thepain she would inflict on one who once was dear to her, and whostill loved her ardently. Even Miss Thomas, [FOOTNOTE: In GeorgeSand, a volume of the "Eminent Women Series. "] who generallytakes George Sand at her own valuation, and in this case tootries to excuse her, admits that in Lucrezia Floriani there wasenough of reality interwoven to make the world hasten to identifyor confound Chopin with Prince Karol, that Chopin, the mostsensitive of mortals, could not but be pained by the inferenceswhich would be drawn, that "perhaps if only as a genius he hadthe right to be spared such an infliction, " and that, therefore, "one must wish it could have appeared in this light to MadameSand. " This is a mild way of expressing disapproval of conductthat shows, to say the least, an inhuman callousness to thesusceptibilities of a fellow-being. And to speak of theirresistible prompting of genius in connection with one who hadher faculties so well under her control is downright mockery. Itwould, however, be foolish to expect considerateness for othersin one who needlessly detailed and proclaimed to the world notonly the little foibles but also the drunkenness and consequentidiocy and madness of a brother whose family was still living. Her practice was, indeed, so much at variance with her professionthat it is preposterous rather to accept than to doubt her words. George Sand was certainly not the self-sacrificing woman shepretended to be; for her sacrifices never outlasted herinclinations, they were, indeed, nothing else than an abandonmentto her desires. And these desires were the directors of herreason, which, aided by an exuberant imagination, was never at aloss to justify any act, be it ever so cruel and abject. Inshort, the chief characteristic of George Sand's moralconstitution was her incapacity of regarding anything she didotherwise than as right. What I have said is fully borne out byher Ma Vie and the "Correspondance, " which, of course, can bemore easily and safely examined than her deeds and spoken words. 

And now we will continue our investigations of the causes andcircumstances of the rupture. First I shall quote some passagesfrom letters written by George Sand, between which will beinserted a note from Chopin to her. If the reader does not see atonce what several of these quotations have to do with the matterunder discussion, he will do so before long. 

 Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Nohant, September 1, 1846:--

 It is exceedingly kind of you to offer me shelter [un gîte]. We have still our apartments in the Square Saint-Lazare [Square d'Orleans], and nothing would prevent us from going there. 

 Chopin to Madame Sand; Tuesday 2 1/2 [Paris, December 15, 1846]

 [FOOTNOTE: The date is that of the postmark. A German translation of the French original (in the Imperial Public Library at St. Petersburg) will be found in La Mara's "Musikerbriefe. "]:--

 Mademoiselle de Rozieres has found the piece of cloth in question (it was in the camail-carton of Mdlle. Augustine), and I sent it at once last night to Borie, [Victor Borie a publicist and friend of George Sand] who, as Peter was told, does not yet leave to-day. Here we have a little sun and Russian snow. I am glad of this weather for your sake, and imagine you walking about a great deal. Did Dib dance in last night's pantomime? May you and yours enjoy good health!

 Your most devoted, C. 

 For your dear children. 

 I am well; but I have not the courage to leave my fireside for a moment. 

 Madame Sand to Madame Marliani; Nohant, May 6, 1847:--

 Solange marries in a fortnight Clesinger, the sculptor, a man of great talent, who is making much money, and can give her the brilliant existence which, I believe, is to her taste. He is very violently in love with her, and he pleases her much. She was this time as prompt and firm in her determination as she was hitherto capricious and irresolute. Apparently she has met with what she dreamt of. May God grant it!

 As regards myself, the young man pleases me also much and Maurice likewise. He is little civilised at first sight; but he is full of sacred fire and for some time past, since I noticed him making advances, I have been studying him without having the appearance of doing so. .. He has other qualities which compensate for all the defects he may have and ought to have. 

 . .. Somebody told me of him all the ill that can be said of a man [on making inquiries George Sand found that Clesinger was a man "irreproachable in the best sense of the word"]. 

 M. Dudevant, whom he has been to see, consents. We do not know yet where the marriage will take place. Perhaps at Nerac, [FOOTNOTE: Where M. Dudevant, her whilom husband, resided. ] in order to prevent M. Dudevant from falling asleep in the eternal to-morrow to the province. 

 Madame Sand to Mazzini; Nohant, May 22, 1847:--

 I have just married and, I believe, well married my daughter to an artist of powerful inspiration and will. I had for her but one ambition--namely, that she should love and be loved; my wish is realised. The future is in the hand of God, but I believe in the duration of this love and this union. 

 Madame Sand to Charles Poncy; Nohant, August 9, 1847:--

 My good Maurice is always calm, occupied, and lively. He sustains and consoles me. Solange is in Paris with her husband; they are going to travel. Chopin is in Paris also; his health has not yet permitted him to make the journey; but he is better. 

The following letter, of an earlier date than those from which mylast two excerpts are taken, is more directly concerned withChopin. 

 Madame Sand to Gutmann; Nohant, May 12, 1847:--

 Thanks, my good Gutmann, thanks from the bottom of my heart for the admirable care which you lavish on him [Chopin]. I know well that it is for him, for yourself, and not for me, that you act thus, but I do not the less feel the need of thanking you. It is a great misfortune for me that this happens at a moment like that in which I find myself. Truly, this is too much anxiety at one time! I would have gone mad, I believe, if I had learned the gravity of his illness before hearing that the danger was past. He does not know that I know of it, and on account, especially, of the embarras in which he knows I find myself, he wishes it to be concealed from me. He wrote to me yesterday as if nothing had taken place, and I have answered him as if I suspected as yet nothing. Therefore, do not tell him that I write to you, and that for twenty-four hours I have suffered terribly. Grzymala writes about you very kindly a propos of the tenderness with which you have taken my place by the side of him, and you especially, so that I will tell you that I know it, and that my heart will keep account of it seriously and for ever. .. 

 Au revoir, then, soon, my dear child, and receive my maternal benediction. May it bring you luck as I wish!

 George Sand. 

 [FOOTNOTE: This letter, which is not contained in the "Correspondance, " was, as far as I know, first published in "Die Gegenwart" (Berlin, July 12, 1879)]

If all that George Sand here says is bona fide, the letter provesthat the rupture had not yet taken place. Indeed, Gutmann was ofopinion that it did not take place till 1848, shortly beforeChopin's departure for England, that, in-fact, she, her daughter, and son-in-law were present at the concert he gave on February16, 1848. That this, however, was not the case is shown both by aletter written by George Sand from Nohant on February 18, 1848, and by another statement of Gutmann's, according to which one ofthe causes of the rupture was the marriage of Solange withClesinger of which Chopin (foreseeing unhappiness which did notfail to come, and led to separation) did not approve. Anothercause, he thought, was Chopin's disagreements with Maurice Sand. There were hasty remarks and sharp retorts between lover and son, and scenes in consequence. Gutmann is a very unsatisfactoryinformant, everything he read and heard seemed to pass throughthe retort of his imagination and reappear transformed as his ownexperience. 

A more reliable witness is Franchomme, who in a letter to mesummed up the information which he had given me on this subjectby word of mouth as follows:--

 Strange to say [chose bizarre], Chopin had a horror of the figure 7; he would not have taken lodgings in a house which bore the number 7; he would not have set out on a journey on the 7th or 17th, &c. It was in 1837 that he formed the liaison with George Sand; it was in 1847 that the rupture took place; it was on the 17th October that my dear friend said farewell to us. The rupture between Chopin and Madame Sand came about in this way. In June, 1847, Chopin was making ready to start for Nohant when he received a letter from Madame Sand to the effect that she had just turned out her daughter and son-in- law, and that if he received them in his house all would be over between them [i. E. , between George Sand and Chopin]. I was with Chopin at the time the letter arrived, and he said to me, "They have only me, and should I close my door upon them? No, I shall not do it!" and he did not do it, and yet he knew that this creature whom he adored would not forgive it him. Poor friend, how I have seen him suffer!

Of the quarrel at Nohant, Franchomme gave the following account:--There was staying at that time at Nohant a gentleman who treatedMadame Clesinger invariably with rudeness. One day as Clesingerand his wife went downstairs the person in question passedwithout taking off his hat. The sculptor stopped him, and said, "Bid madam a good day"; and when the gentleman or churl, as thecase may be, refused, he gave him a box on the ear. George Sand, who stood at the top of the stairs, saw it, came down, and gavein her turn Clesinger a box on the ear. After this she turned herson-in-law together with his wife out of her house, and wrote theabove-mentioned letter to Chopin. 

Madame Rubio had also heard of the box on the ear which GeorgeSand gave Clesinger. According to this informant there were manyquarrels between mother and daughter, the former objecting to thelatter's frequent visits to Chopin, and using this as a pretextto break with him. Gutmann said to me that Chopin was fond ofSolange, though not in love with her. But now we have again gotinto the current of gossip, and the sooner we get out of it thebetter. 

Before I draw my conclusions from the evidence I have collected, I must find room for some extracts from two letters, respectivelywritten on August 9, 1847, and December 14, 1847, to CharlesPoncy. The contents of these extracts will to a great extent be amystery to the reader, a mystery to which I cannot furnish thekey. Was Solange the chief subject of George Sand's lamentations?Had Chopin or her brother, or both, to do with this paroxysm ofdespair?

After saying how she has been overwhelmed by a chain of chagrins, how her purest intentions have had a fatal issue, how her bestactions have been blamed by men and punished by heaven as crimes, she proceeds:--

 And do you think I have reached the end? No, all I have told you hitherto is nothing, and since my last letter I have exhausted all the cup of life contains of tribulation. It is even so bitter and unprecedented that I cannot speak of it, at least I cannot write it. Even that would give me too much pain. I will tell you something about it when I see you. .. I hoped at least for the old age on which I was entering the recompense of great sacrifices, of much work, fatigue, and a whole life of devotion and abnegation. I asked for nothing but to render happy the objects of my affection. Well, I have been repaid with ingratitude, and evil has got the upper hand in a soul which I wished to make the sanctuary and the hearth of the beautiful and the good. At present I struggle against myself in order not to let myself die. I wish to accomplish my task unto the end. May God aid me! I believe in Him and hope!. .. Augustine has suffered much, but she has had great courage and a true feeling of her dignity; and her health, thank God, has not suffered. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Augustine Brault was according to the editor of the Correspondance a cousin of George Sand's; George Sand herself calls her in Ma Vie her parent, and tells us in a vague way how her connection with this young lady gave occasion to scandalous libels. ]

The next quotation is from the letter dated Nohant, December 14, 1847. Desirez is the wife of Charles Poncy, to whom the letter isaddressed. 

 You have understood, Desirez and you, you whose soul is delicate because it is ardent, that I passed through the gravest and most painful phase of my life. I nearly succumbed, although I had foreseen it for a long time. But you know one is not always under the pressure of a sinister foresight, however evident it may be. There are days, weeks, entire months even, when one lives on illusions, and when one flatters one's self one is turning aside the blow which threatens one. At last, the most probable misfortune always surprises us disarmed and unprepared. In addition to this development of the unhappy germ, which was going on unnoticed, there have arisen several very bitter and altogether unexpected accessory circumstances. The result is that I am broken in soul and body with chagrin. I believe that this chagrin is incurable; for the better I succeed in freeing myself from it for some hours, the more sombre and poignant does it re-enter into me in the following hours. .. I have undertaken a lengthy work [un ouvrage de longue haleine] entitled Histoire de ma Vie. .. However, I shall not reveal the whole of my life. .. It will be, moreover, a pretty good piece of business, which will put me on my feet again, and will relieve me of a part of my anxieties with regard to the future of Solange, which is rather compromised. 

We have, then, the choice of two explanations of the rupture:George Sand's, that it was caused by the disagreement of Chopinand her son; and Franchomme's, that it was brought about byChopin's disregard of George Sand's injunction not to receive herdaughter and son-in-law. I prefer the latter version, which isreconcilable with George Sand's letters, confirmed by thetestimony of several of Chopin's friends, and given by an honest, simple-minded man who may be trusted to have told a plainunvarnished tale. 

[FOOTNOTE: The contradictions are merely apparent, and disappearif we consider that George Sand cannot have had any inclinationto give to Gutmann and Poncy an explanation of the real state ofmatters. Moreover, when she wrote to the former the rupture had, according to Franchomme, not yet taken place. ]

But whatever reason may have been alleged to justify, whatevercircumstance may have been the ostensible cause of the rupture, in reality it was only a pretext. On this point all agree--Franchomme, Gutmann, Kwiatkowski, Madame Rubio, Liszt, &c. GeorgeSand was tired of Chopin, and as he did not leave hervoluntarily, the separation had to be forced upon him. Gutmannthought there was no rupture at all. George Sand went to Nohantwithout Chopin, ceased to write to him, and thus the connectioncame to an end. Of course, Chopin ought to have left her beforeshe had recourse to the "heroic means" of kicking him, metaphorically speaking, out of doors. But the strength of hispassion for this woman made him weak. If a tithe of what isrumoured about George Sand's amorous escapades is true, a loverwho stayed with her for eight years must have found his capacityof overlooking and forgiving severely tested. We hear on allsides of the infidelities she permitted herself. A Polish friendof Chopin's informed me that one day when he was about to enterthe composer's, room to pay him a visit, the married Berrichonfemale servant of George Sand came out of it; and Chopin, who waslying ill in bed, told him afterwards that she had beencomplaining of her mistress and husband. Gutmann, who said thatChopin knew of George Sand's occasional infidelities, pretendedto have heard him say when she had left him behind in Paris: "Iwould overlook all if only she would allow me to stay with her atNohant. " I regard these and such like stories, especially thelast one, with suspicion (is it probable that the reticent artistwas communicative on so delicate a subject, and with Gutmann, hispupil and a much younger man?), but they cannot be ignored, asthey are characteristic of how Chopin's friends viewed hisposition. And yet, tormented as he must have been in the days ofpossession, crushed as he was by the loss, tempted as hesubsequently often felt to curse her and her deceitfulness, heloved and missed George Sand to the very end--even the day beforehis death he said to Franchomme that she had told him he woulddie in no other arms but hers (que je ne mourrais que dans sesbras). 

If George Sand had represented her separation from Chopin as amatter of convenience, she would have got more sympathy and beenable to make out a better case. 

 The friendship of Chopin [she writes in Ma Vie] has never been for me a refuge in sadness. He had quite enough troubles of his own to bear. Mine would have overwhelmed him; moreover, he knew them only vaguely and did not understand them at all. He would have appreciated them from a point of view very different from mine. 

Besides Chopin's illnesses became more frequent, his strengthdiminished from day to day, and care and attendance wereconsequently more than ever needful. That he was a "detestablepatient" has already been said. The world takes it for grantedthat the wife or paramour of a man of genius is in duty bound tosacrifice herself for him. But how does the matter stand whenthere is genius on both sides, and self-sacrifice of either partyentails loss to the world? By the way, is it not very selfish andhypocritical of this world which generally does so little for menof genius to demand that women shall entirely, self-denyinglydevote themselves to their gifted lovers? Well, both George Sandand Chopin had to do work worth doing, and if one of them washampered by the other in doing it, the dissolution of the unionwas justified. But perhaps this was not the reason of theseparation. At any rate, George Sand does not advance such aplea. Still, it would have been unfair not to discuss thispossible point of view. 

The passage from the letter of George Sand dated September 1, 1846, which I quoted earlier in this chapter, justifies us, Ithink, in assuming that, although she was still keeping on herapartments in the Square d'Orleans, the phalanstery had ceased toexist. The apartments she gave up probably sometime in 1847; atany rate, she passed the winter of 1847-8, for the most part atleast, at Nohant; and when after the outbreak of the revolutionof 1848 she came to Paris (between the 9th and 14th of March), she put up at a hotel garni. Chopin continued to live in his oldquarters in the Square d'Orldans, and, according to Gutmann, wasafter the cessation of his connection with George Sand in thehabit of dining either with him (Gutmann) or Grzymala, that is tosay, in their company. 

It is much to be regretted that no letters are forthcoming totell us of Chopin's feelings and doings at this time. I can placebefore the reader no more than one note, the satisfactory natureof which makes up to some extent for its brevity. It is addressedto Franchomme; dated Friday, October 1, 1847; and contains onlythese few words:--

 Dear friend, --I thank you for your good heart, but I am very RICH this evening. Yours with all my heart. 

In this year--i. E. , 1847--appeared the three last works whichChopin published, although among his posthumous compositionsthere are two of a later date. The Trois Mazurkas, Op. 63(dedicated to the Comtesse L. Czosnowska), and the Trois Valses, Op. 64 (dedicated respectively to Madame la Comtesse Potocka, Madame la Baronne de Rothschild, and Madame la Baronne Bronicka), appeared in September, and the Sonata for piano and violoncello, Op. 65 (dedicated to Franchomme), in October. Now I will say ofthese compositions only that the mazurkas and waltzes are notinferior to his previous works of this kind, and that the sonatais one of his most strenuous efforts in the larger forms. Mr. Charles Halle remembers going one evening in 1847 with StephenHeller to Chopin, who had invited some friends to let them hearthis sonata which he had lately finished. On arriving at hishouse they found him rather unwell; he went about the room bentlike a half-opened penknife. The visitors proposed to leave himand to postpone the performance, but Chopin would not hear of it. He said he would try. Having once begun, he soon became straightagain, warming as he proceeded. As will be seen from some remarksof Madame Dubois's, which I shall quote farther on, the sonatadid not make an altogether favourable impression on the auditors. 

The name of Madame Dubois reminds me of the soiree immortalisedby a letter of Madame Girardin (see the one of March 7, 1847, inVol. IV. Of Le Vicomte de Launay), and already several timesalluded to by me in preceding chapters. At this soiree Chopin notonly performed several of his pieces, but also accompanied on asecond piano his E minor Concerto which was played by his pupil, the youthful and beautiful Mdlle. Camille O'Meara. But themusical event par excellence of the period of Chopin's life withwhich we are concerned in this chapter is his concert, the lasthe gave in Paris, on February 16, 1848. Before I proceed with myaccount of it, I must quote a note, enclosing tickets for thisconcert, which Chopin wrote at this time to Franchomme. It runsthus: "The best places en evidence for Madame D. , but not for hercook. " Madame D. Was Madame Paul Delaroche, the wife of the greatpainter, and a friend of Franchomme's. 

But here is a copy of the original programme:--

 FIRST PART. 

 Trio by Mozart, for piano, violin, and violoncello, performed by MM. Chopin, Alard, and Franchomme. 

 Aria, sung by Mdlle. Antonia Molina di Mondi. 

 Nocturne, | |--composed and performed by M. Chopin. Barcarole, |

 Air, sung by Mdlle. Antonia Molina di Mondi. 

 Etude, | |--composed and performed by M. Chopin. Berceuse, |

 SECOND PART. 

 Scherzo, Adagio, and Finale of the Sonata in G minor, for piano and violoncello, composed by M. Chopin, and performed by the author and M. Franchomme. 

 Air nouveau from Robert le Diable, composed by M. Meyerbeer, sung by M. Roger. 

 Preludes, | | Mazurkas, |--composed and performed by M. Chopin. | Valse, |

 Accompanists:--MM. Aulary and de Garaude. 

The report of "M. S. " in the Gazette musicale of February 20, 1848, transports us at once into the midst of the exquisite, perfume-laden atmosphere of Pleyel's rooms on February 16:--

 A concert by the Ariel of pianists is a thing too rare to be given, like other concerts, by opening both wings of the doors to whomsoever wishes to enter. For this one a list had been drawn up: everyone inscribed thereon his name: but everyone was not sure of obtaining the precious ticket: patronage was required to be admitted into the holy of holies, to obtain the favour of depositing one's offering, and yet this offering amounted to a louis; but who has not a louis to spare whep Chopin may be heard?

 The outcome of all this naturally was that the fine flower of the aristocracy of the most distinguished women, the most elegant toilettes, filled on Wednesday Pleyel's rooms. There was also the aristocracy of artists and amateurs, happy to seize in his flight this musical sylph who had promised to let himself once more and for a few hours be approached, seen, and heard. 

 The sylph kept his word, and with what success, what enthusiasm! It is easier to tell you of the reception he got, the transport he excited, than to describe, analyse, divulge, the mysteries of an execution which was nothing analogous in our terrestrial regions. If we had in our power the pen which traced the delicate marvels of Queen Mab, not bigger than an agate that glitters on the finger of an alderman, of her liny chariot, of her diaphanous team, only then should we succeed in giving an idea of a purely ideal talent into which matter enters hardly at all. Only Chopin can make Chopin understood: all those who were present at the seance of Wednesday are convinced of this as well as we. 

 The programme announced first a trio of Mozart, which Chopin, Alard, and Franchomme executed in such a manner that one despairs of ever hearing it again so well performed. Then Chopin played studies, preludes, mazurkas, waltzes; he performed afterwards his beautiful sonata with Franchomme. Do not ask us how all these masterpieces small and great were rendered. We said at first we would not attempt to reproduce these thousands and thousands of nuances of an exceptional genius having in his service an organisation of the same kind. We shall only say that the charm did not cease to act a single instant on the audience, and that it still lasted after the concert was ended. 

 Let us add that Roger, our brilliant tenor, sang with his most expressive voice the beautiful prayer intercalated in Robert le Diable by the author himself at the debut of Mario at the Opera; that Mdlle. Antonia de Mendi [a niece of Pauline Viardot's; see the spelling of her name in the programme], the young and beautiful singer, carried off her share of bravos by her talent full of hope and promise. 

 There is a talk of a second concert which Chopin is to give on the 10th of March, and already more than 600 names are put down on the new list. In this there is nothing astonishing; Chopin owed us this recompense, and he well deserves this eagerness. 

As this report, although it enables us to realise the atmosphere, is otherwise lacking in substance, we must try to get furtherinformation elsewhere. Happily, there is plenty at our disposal. 

 Before playing the violoncello sonata in public [wrote Madame Dubois to me], Chopin had tried it before some artists and intimate friends; the first movement, the masterpiece, was not understood. It appeared to the hearers obscure, involved by too many ideas, in short, it had no success. At the last moment Chopin dared not play the whole sonata before so worldly and elegant an audience, but confined himself to the Scherzo, Adagio, and Finale. I shall never forget the manner in which he executed the Barcarole, that adorable composition; the Waltz in D flat (la valse au petit chien) was encored amidst the acclamations of the public. A grande dame who was present at this concert wished to know Chopin's secret of making the scales so flowing on the piano [faire les gammes si coulees stir le piano]. The expression is good, and this limpidity has never been equalled. 

Stephen Heller's remark to me, that Chopin became in his lastyears so weak that his playing was sometimes hardly audible, Ihave already related in a preceding chapter. There I have alsomentioned what Mr. Charles Halle' told me--namely, that in thelatter part of his life Chopin often played forte passages pianoand even pianissimo, that, for instance, at the concert we arespeaking of he played the two forte passages towards the end ofthe Barcarole pianissimo and with all sorts of dynamic finesses. Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, who was present at the concert on February16, 1848, gave some interesting recollections of it, after thereading of a paper on the subject of Chopin, by Mr. G. A. Osborne, at one of the meetings of the Musical Association (seeProceedings, of the Musical Association for the year 1879-80):--

 He [Chopin] was extremely weak, but still his playing--by reason of that remarkable quality which he possessed of gradation in touch--betrayed none of the impress of weakness which some attributed to piano playing or softness of touch; and he possessed in a greater degree than any pianoforte- player he [Mr. Goldschmidt] had ever heard, the faculty of passing upwards from piano through all gradations of tone. .. It was extremely difficult to obtain admission, for Chopin, who had been truly described as a most sensitive man--which seemed to be pre-eminently a quality of artistic organisations--not only had a list submitted to him of those who ought to be admitted, but he sifted that list, and made a selection from the selected list; he was, therefore, surrounded by none but friends and admirers. The room was beautifully decorated with flowers of all kinds, and he could truly say that even now, at the distance of thirty years, he had the most vivid recollection of the concert. .. The audience was so enraptured with his [Chopin's] playing that he was called forward again and again. 

In connection with what Mr. Goldschmidt and the writer in theGazette musicale say about the difficulty of admission and asifted list, I have to record, and I shall do no more thanrecord, Franchomme's denial. "I really believe, " he said to me, "that this is a mere fiction. I saw Chopin every day; how, then, could I remain ignorant of it?"

To complete my account of Chopin's last concert in Paris, I haveyet to add some scraps of information derived from Un nidd'autographes, by Oscar Comettant, who was present at it, and, moreover, reported on it in Le Siecle. The memory of the eventwas brought back to him when on looking over autographs in thepossession of Auguste Wolff, the successor of Camille Pleyel, hefound a ticket for the above described concert. As the concert sowas also the ticket unlike that of any other artist. "Les lettresd'ecriture anglaise etaient gravees au burin et imprimees entaille-douce sur de beau papier mi-carton glace, d'un carre longelegant et distingue. " It bore the following words and figures:--

 SOIREE DE M. CHOPIN, DANS L'UN DES SALONS DE MM. PLEYEL ET CIE. , 20, Rue Rochechouart, Le mercredi 16 fevrier 1848 a 8 heures 1/2. Rang. .. . Prix 20 francs. .. . Place reservee. 

M. Comettant, in contradiction to what has been said by othersabout Chopin's physical condition, states that when the lattercame on the platform, he walked upright and without feebleness;his face, though pale, did not seem greatly altered; and heplayed as he had always played. But M. Comettant was told thatChopin, having spent at the concert all his moral and physicalenergy, afterwards nearly fainted in the artists' room. 

In March Chopin and George Sand saw each other once more. We willrest satisfied with the latter's laconic account of the meetingalready quoted: "Je serrai sa main tremblante et glacee. Je voulului parler, il s'echappa. " Karasowski's account of this lastmeeting is in the feuilleton style and a worthy pendant to thatof the first meeting:--

 A month before his departure [he writes], in the last days of March, Chopin was invited by a lady to whose hospitable house he had in former times often gone. Some moments he hesitated whether he should accept this invitation, for he had of late years less frequented the salons; at last--as if impelled by an inner voice--he accepted. An hour before he entered the house of Madame H. .. 

And then follow wonderful conversations, sighs, blushes, tears, alady hiding behind an ivy screen, and afterwards advancing with agliding step, and whispering with a look full of repentance:"Frederick!" Alas, this was not the way George Sand met herdismissed lovers. Moreover, let it be remembered she was at thistime not a girl in her teens, but a woman of nearly forty-four. 

The outbreak of the revolution on February 22, 1848, upset thearrangements for the second concert, which was to take place onthe 10th of March, and, along with the desire to seekforgetfulness of the grievous loss he had sustained in a changeof scene, decided him at last to accept the pressing andunwearied invitations of his Scotch and English friends to visitGreat Britain. On April 2 the Gazette musicale announced thatChopin would shortly betake himself to London and pass the seasonthere. And before many weeks had passed he set out upon hisjourney. But the history of his doings in the capital and inother parts of the United Kingdom shall be related in anotherchapter. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

DIFFERENCE OF STYLE IN CHOPIN'S WORKS. ----THEIR CHARACTERISTICSDISCUSSED, AND POPULAR PREJUDICES CONTROVERTED. ----POLISHNATIONAL MUSIC AND ITS INFLUENCE ON CHOPIN. ----CHOPIN A PERSONALAS WELL AS NATIONAL TONE-POET. --A REVIEW OF SOME OF HIS LESSPERFECT COMPOSITIONS AND OF HIS MASTERPIECES: BOLERO; RONDEAU;VARIATIONS; TARANTELLE; ALLEGRO DE CONCERT; TWO SONATAS FORPIANOFORTE (OP. 38 AND 58); SONATA (OP. 65) AND GRAND DUOCONCERTANT FOR PIANOFORTE AND VIOLONCELLO; FANTAISIE; MAZURKAS;POLONAISES; VALSES; ETUDES; PRELUDES; SCHERZI; IMPROMPTUS;NOCTURNES; BERCEUSE; BARCAROLE; AND BALLADES-----THE SONGS. ----VARIOUS EDITIONS. 

Before we inquire into the doings and sufferings of Chopin inEngland and Scotland, let us take a general survey of his life-work as a composer. We may fitly do so now; as at the stage ofhis career we have reached, his creative activity had come to aclose. The last composition he published, the G minor Sonata forpiano and violoncello, Op. 65, appeared in October, 1847; andamong his posthumous compositions published by Fontana there areonly two of later date--namely, the mazurkas, No. 2 of Op. 67 (Gminor) and No. 4 of Op. 68 (F minor), which came into existencein 1849. Neither of these compositions can be numbered with themaster's best works, but the latter of them is interesting, because it seems in its tonal writhings and wailings a picture ofthe bodily and mental torments Chopin was at the time enduring. 

A considerable number of the master's works I have alreadydiscussed in Chapters III. , VIII. , and XIII. These, if we exceptthe two Concertos, Op. II and 21 (although they, too, do not rankwith his chefs-d'oeuvre), are, however, for us of greater importancebiographically, perhaps also historically, than otherwise. It istrue, we hear now and then of some virtuoso playing the Variations, Op. 2, or the Fantasia on Polish airs, Op. 13, nay, we may hear evenof the performance of the Trio, Op. 8; but such occurrences are ofthe rarest rarity, and, considering how rich musical literature isin unexceptionable concert-pieces and chamber compositions, onefeels on the whole pleased that these enterprising soloists andtrio-players find neither much encouragement nor many imitators. While in examining the earlier works, the praise bestowed on themwas often largely mixed with censure, and the admiration felt forthem tempered by dissatisfaction; we shall have little else thanpure praise and admiration for the works that remain to beconsidered, at least for the vast majority of them. One thing, however, seems to me needful before justice can be done to thecomposer Chopin: certain prejudices abroad concerning him have tobe combated. I shall, therefore, preface my remarks on particularcompositions and groups of compositions by some generalobservations. 

It is sometimes said that there are hardly any traces of adevelopment in the productions of Chopin, and that in thisrespect he is unlike all the other great masters. Such an opinioncannot be the result of a thorough and comprehensive study of thecomposer's works. So far from agreeing with those who hold it, Iam tempted to assert that the difference of style betweenChopin's early and latest works (even when juvenile compositionslike the first two Rondos are left out of account) is as great asthat between Beethoven's first and ninth Symphony. It would beeasy to classify the Polish master's works according to three andeven four (with the usual exceptions) successive styles, but Ihave no taste for this cheap kind of useless ingenuity. In fact, I shall confine myself to saying that in Chopin's works there areclearly distinguishable two styles--the early virtuosic and thelater poetic style. The latter is in a certain sense alsovirtuosic, but with this difference, that its virtuosity is notvirtuosity for virtuosity's sake. The poetic style which hasthrown off the tinsel showiness of its predecessor does not, however, remain unchanged, for its texture becomes more and moreclose, and affords conclusive evidence of the increasinginfluence of Johann Sebastian Bach. Of course, the grand masterof fugue does not appear here, as it were, full life-size, inperuke, knee-breeches, and shoe-buckles, but his presence inspite of transformation and attenuation is unmistakable. It is, however, not only in the closeness and complexity of texture thatwe notice Chopin's style changing: a striving after greaterbreadth and fulness of form are likewise apparent, and, alas!also an increase in sombreness, the result of deterioratinghealth. All this the reader will have to keep in mind when hepasses in review the master's works, for I shall marshal them bygroups, not chronologically. 

Another prejudice, wide-spread, almost universal, is thatChopin's music is all languor and melancholy, and, consequently, wanting in variety. Now, there can be no greater error than thisbelief. As to variety, we should be obliged to wonder at itsinfiniteness if he had composed nothing but the pieces to whichare really applicable the epithets dreamy, pensive, mournful, anddespondent. But what vigour, what more than manly vigour, manifests itself in many of his creations! Think only of thePolonaises in A major (Op. 40, No. 1) and in A flat major (Op. 53), of many of his studies, the first three of his ballades, thescherzos, and much besides! To be sure, a great deal of thisvigour is not natural, but the outcome of despair and maddeningpassion. Still, it is vigour, and such vigour as is not often tobe met with. And, then, it is not the only kind to be found inhis music. There is also a healthy vigour, which, for instance, in the A major Polonaise assumes a brilliantly-heroic form. Norare serene and even joyous moods so rare that it would bepermissible to ignore them. While thus controverting the so-called vox Dei (are not popular opinions generally popularprejudices?) and the pseudo-critics who create or follow it, Ihave no intention either to deny or conceal the Polish master'sexcess of languor and melancholy. I only wish to avoid vulgarexaggeration, to keep within the bounds of the factual. In art asin life, in biography as in history, there are not many questionsthat can be answered by a plain "yea" or "nay. It was, indeed, with Chopin as has been said of him, "his heart was sad, his mindwas gay. "One day when Chopin, Liszt, and the Comtesse d'Agoultspent the after-dinner hours together, the lady, deeply moved bythe Polish composer's playing, ventured to ask him "by what namehe called the extraordinary feeling which he enclosed in hiscompositions, like unknown ashes in superb urns of mostexquisitely-chiselled alabaster? "He answered her that--

 her heart had not deceived her in its melancholy saddening, for whatever his moments of cheerfulness might be, he never for all that got rid of a feeling which formed, as it were, the soil of his heart, and for which he found a name only in his mother-tongue, no other possessing an equivalent to the Polish word zal [sadness, pain, sorrow, grief, trouble, repentance, &c. ]. Indeed, he uttered the word repeatedly, as if his ear had been eager for this sound, which for him comprised the whole scale of the feelings which is produced by an intense plaint, from repentance to hatred, blessed or poisoned fruits of this acrid root. 

After a long dissertation on the meaning of the word zal, Liszt, from whose book this quotation is taken, proceeds thus:--

 Yes, truly, the zal colours with a reflection now argent, now ardent, the whole of Chopin's works. It is not even absent from his sweetest reveries. These impressions had so much the more importance in the life of Chopin that they manifested themselves distinctly in his last works. They little by little attained a kind of sickly irascibility, reaching the point of feverish tremulousness. This latter reveals itself in some of his last writings by a distortion of his thought which one is sometimes rather pained than surprised to meet. Suffocating almost under the oppression of his repressed transports of passion, making no longer use of the art except to rehearse to himself his own tragedy, he began, after having sung his feeling, to tear it to pieces. 

Read together with my matter-of-fact statements, Liszt'shyperbolical and circumlocutional poetic prose will not bemisunderstood by the reader. The case may be briefly summed upthus. Zal is not to be found in every one of Chopin'scompositions, but in the greater part of them: sometimes itappears clearly on the surface, now as a smooth or lightly-rippled flow, now as a wildly-coursing, fiercely-gushing torrent;sometimes it is dimly felt only as an undercurrent whose presencenot unfrequently becomes temporarily lost to ear and eye. Wemust, however, take care not to overlook that this zal is notexclusively individual, although its width and intensity are so. 

 The key-note [of Polish songs] [says the editor and translator into German of an interesting collection of Folk-songs of the Poles][FOOTNOTE: Volkslieder der Polen. Gesammelt und ubersetzt von W. P. (Leipzig, 1833). ] is melancholy--even in playful and naive songs something may be heard which reminds one of the pain of past sorrows; a plaintive sigh, a death- groan, which seems to accuse the Creator, curses His existence, and, as Tieck thinks, cries to heaven out of the dust of annihilation:

 "What sin have I committed?"

 These are the after-throes of whole races; these are the pains of whole centuries, which in these melodies entwine themselves in an infinite sigh. One is tempted to call them sentimental, because they seem to reflect sometimes on their own feeling; but, on the other hand, they are not so, for the impulse to an annihilating outpouring of feeling expresses itself too powerfully for these musical poems to be products of conscious creativeness. One feels when one hears these songs that the implacable wheel of fate has only too often rolled over the terrene happiness of this people, and life has turned to them only its dark side. Therefore, the dark side is so conspicuous; therefore, much pain and poetry--unhappiness and greatness. 

The remarks on Polish folk-music lead us naturally to thequestion of Chopin's indebtedness to it, which, while in onerespect it cannot be too highly rated, is yet in another respectgenerally overrated. The opinion that every peculiarity whichdistinguishes his music from that of other masters is to be putto the account of his nationality, and may be traced in Polishfolk-music, is erroneous. But, on the other hand, it isemphatically true that this same folk-music was to him a potentinspirer and trainer. Generally speaking, however, Chopin hasmore of the spirit than of the form of Polish folk-music. Theonly two classes of his compositions where we find also somethingof the form are his mazurkas and polonaises; and, what isnoteworthy, more in the former, the dance of the people, than inthe latter, the dance of the aristocracy. In Chopin's mazurkas wemeet not only with many of the most characteristic rhythms, butalso with many equally characteristic melodic and harmonic traitsof this chief of all the Polish dances. 

Polish national music conforms in part to the tonality prevailingin modern art-music, that is, to our major and minor modes; inpart, however, it reminds one of other tonalities--for instance, of that of the mediaeval church modes, and of that or thoseprevalent in the music of the Hungarians, Wallachians, and otherpeoples of that quarter. 

[FOOTNOTE: The strictly diatonic church modes (not to beconfounded with the ancient Greek modes bearing the same names)differ from each other by the position of the two semitones: theIonian is like our C major; the Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian. &c. , are like the series of natural notesstarting respectively from d, c, f, g, a, &c. The characteristicinterval of the Hungarian scale is the augmented second (a, b, c, d#, e, f, g#, a). ]

The melodic progression, not always immediate, of an augmentedfourth and major seventh occurs frequently, and that of anaugmented second occasionally. Skips of a third after or beforeone or more steps of a second are very common. In connection withthese skips of a third may be mentioned that one meets withmelodies evidently based on a scale with a degree less than ourmajor and minor scales, having in one place a step of a thirdinstead of a second. [FOOTNOTE: Connoisseurs of Scotch music, onbecoming acquainted with Polish music, will be incited by manytraits of the latter to undertake a comparative study of thetwo. ] The opening and the closing note stand often to each otherin the relation of a second, sometimes also of a seventh. Thenumerous peculiarities to be met with in Polish folkmusic withregard to melodic progression are not likely to be reducible toone tonality or a simple system of tonalities. Time and districtof origin have much to do with the formal character of themelodies. And besides political, social, and local influencesdirect musical ones--the mediaeval church music, eastern secularmusic, &c. --have to be taken into account. Of most Polishmelodies it may be said that they are as capricious as they arepiquant. Any attempt to harmonise them according to our tonalsystem must end in failure. Many of them would, indeed, bespoiled by any kind of harmony, being essentially melodic, notoutgrowths of harmony. 

[FOOTNOTE: To those who wish to study this subject may berecommended Oskar Kolberg's Piesni Ludu Polskiego (Warsaw, 1857), the best collection of Polish folk-songs. Charles Lipinski'scollection, Piesni Polskie i Ruskie Luttu Galicyjskiego, althoughmuch less interesting, is yet noteworthy. ]

To treat, however, this subject adequately, one requires volumes, not pages; to speak on it authoritatively, one must have studiedit more thoroughly than I have done. The following melodies andsnatches of melodies will to some extent illustrate what I havesaid, although they are chosen with a view rather to illustrateChopin's indebtedness to Polish folk-music than Polish folk-musicitself:--

[11 music score excerpts illustrated here]

Chopin, while piquantly and daringly varying the tonalityprevailing in art-music, hardly ever departs from it altogether--he keeps at least in contact with it, however light that contactmay be now and then in the mazurkas. 

[FOOTNOTE: One of the most decided exceptions is the Mazurka, Op. 24, No. 2, of which only the A fiat major part adheres frankly toour tonality. The portion beginning with the twenty-first bar andextending over that and the next fifteen bars displays, on theother hand, the purest Lydian, while the other portions, althoughless definite as regards tonality, keep in closer touch with themediaeval church smode [sic: mode] than with our major andminor. ]

Further, he adopted only some of the striking peculiarities ofthe national music, and added to them others which wereindividual. These individual characteristics--those audacities ofrhythm, melody, and harmony (in progressions and modulations, aswell as in single chords)--may, however, be said to have beenfathered by the national ones. As to the predominatingchromaticism of his style, it is not to be found in Polish folk-music; although slight rudiments are discoverable (see Nos. 6-12of the musical illustrations). Of course, no one would seek therehis indescribably-exquisite and highly-elaborate workmanship, which alone enabled him to give expression to the finest shadesand most sudden changes of gentle feelings and turbulentpassions. Indeed, as I have already said, it is rather thenational spirit than the form which manifests itself in Chopin'smusic. The writer of the article on Polish music in Mendel'sConversations-Lexikon remarks:--

 What Chopin has written remains for all times the highest ideal of Polish music. Although it would be impossible to point out in a single bar a vulgar utilisation of a national theme, or a Slavonic aping of it, there yet hovers over the whole the spirit of Polish melody, with its chivalrous, proud, and dreamy accents; yea, even the spirit of the Polish language is so pregnantly reproduced in the musical diction as perhaps in no composition of any of his countrymen; unless it be that Prince Oginski with his polonaises and Dobrzynski in his happiest moments have approached him. 

Liszt, as so often, has also in connection with this aspect ofthe composer Chopin some excellent remarks to offer. 

 He neither applied himself nor exerted himself to write Polish music; it is possible that he would have been astonished to hear himself called a Polish musician. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Liszt decidedly overshoots here the mark, and does so in a less degree in the rest of these observations. Did not Chopin himself say to Hiller that he wished to be to his countrymen what Uhland was to the Germans? And did he not write in one of his letters (see p. 168): "You know how I wish to understand, and how I have in part succeeded in understanding, our national music"?]

 Nevertheless, he was a national musician par excellence. .. He summed up in his imagination, he represented in his talent, a poetic feeling inherent in his nation and diffused there among all his contemporaries. Like the true national poets, Chopin sang, without a fixed design, without a preconceived choice, what inspiration spontaneously dictated to him; it is thus that there arose in his music, without solicitation, without effort, the most idealised form of the emotions which had animated his childhood, chequered his adolescence, and embellished his youth. .. Without making any pretence to it, he collected into a luminous sheaf sentiments confusedly felt by all in his country, fragmentarily disseminated in their hearts, vaguely perceived by some. 

George Sand tells us that Chopin's works were the mysterious andvague expression of his inner life. That they were the expressionof his inner life is indeed a fact which no attentive hearer canfail to discover without the aid of external evidence. For thecomposer has hardly written a bar in which, so to speak, thebeating of his heart may not be felt. Chopin revealed himselfonly in his music, but there he revealed himself fully. And wasthis expression of his inner life really "mysterious and vague"?I think not! At least, no effusion of words could have madeclearer and more distinct what he expressed. For thecommunications of dreams and visions such as he dreamt and saw, of the fluctuating emotional actualities such as his sensitiveheart experienced, musical forms are, no doubt, less clumsy thanverbal and pictorial ones. And if we know something of hishistory and that of his nation, we cannot be at a loss to givenames and local habitations to the impalpable, but emotionallyand intellectually-perceptible contents of his music. We have todistinguish in Chopin the personal and the national tone-poet, the singer of his own joys and sorrows and that of his country's. But, while distinguishing these two aspects, we must take carenot to regard them as two separate things. They were a dualitythe constitutive forces of which alternately assumed supremacy. The national poet at no time absorbed the personal, the personalpoet at no time disowned the national. His imagination was alwaysready to conjure up his native atmosphere, nay, we may even saythat, wherever he might be, he lived in it. The scene of hisdreams and visions lay oftenest in the land of his birth. Andwhat did the national poet dream and see in these dreams andvisions? A past, present, and future which never existed andnever will exist, a Poland and a Polish people glorified. Realitypassed through the refining fires of his love and genius andreappeared in his music sublimated as beauty and poetry. No otherpoet has like Chopin embodied in art the romance of the land andpeople of Poland. And, also, no other poet has like him embodiedin art the romance of his own existence. But whereas as anational poet he was a flattering idealist, he was as a personalpoet an uncompromising realist. 

The masterpieces of Chopin consist of mazurkas, polonaises, waltzes, etudes, preludes, nocturnes (with which we will classthe berceuse and barcarole), scherzos and impromptus, andballades. They do not, however, comprise all his notablecompositions. And about these notable compositions which do notrank with his masterpieces, either because they are of lesssignificance or otherwise fail to reach the standard of requisiteperfectness, I shall first say a few words. 

Chopin's Bolero, Op. 19, may be described as a Bolero a lapolonaise. It is livelier in movement and more coquettish incharacter than the compositions which he entitles polonaises, butfor all that its physiognomy does not on the whole strike one asparticularly Spanish, certainly not beyond the first section ofthe Bolero proper and the seductive strains of the Pililento, thesecond tempo of the introduction. And in saying this I am notmisled by the points of resemblance in the rhythmicalaccompaniment of these dances. Chopin published the Bolero in1834, four years before he visited Spain, but one may doubtwhether it would have turned out less Polish if he had composedit subsequently. Although an excellent imitator in the way ofmimicry, he lacked the talent of imitating musical thought andcharacter; at any rate, there are no traces of it in his works. The cause of this lack of talent lies, of course, in the strengthof his subjectivism in the first place, and of his nationalism inthe second. I said the Bolero was published four years before hisvisit to Spain. But how many years before this visit was itcomposed? I think a good many years earlier; for it has so muchof his youthful style about it, and not only of his youthfulstyle, but also of his youthful character--by which I mean thatit is less intensely poetic. It is not impossible that Chopin wasinstigated to write it by hearing the Bolero in Auber's "LaMuette de Portici" ("Masaniello"), which opera was firstperformed on February 28, 1828. These remarks are thrown outmerely as hints. The second composition which we shall considerwill show how dangerous it is to dogmatise on the strength ofinternal evidence. 

Op. 16, a lightsome Rondeau with a dramatic Introduction, is, like the Bolero, not without its beauties; but in spite ofgreater individuality, ranks, like it, low among the master'sworks, being patchy, unequal, and little poetical. 

If ever Chopin is not Chopin in his music, he is so in hisVariations brillantes (in B flat major) sur le Rondeau favori:"Je vends des Scapulaires" de Ludovic, de Herold et Halevy, Op. 12. Did we not know that he must have composed the. Work aboutthe middle of 1833, we should be tempted to class it with theworks which came into existence when his individuality was as yetlittle developed. [FOOTNOTE: The opera Ludovic, on which Heroldwas engaged when he died on January 19, 1833, and which Halevycompleted, was produced in Paris on May 16, 1833. From the Germanpublishers of Chopin's Op. 12 I learned that it appeared inNovember, 1833. In the Gazette musicale of January 26, 1834, maybe read a review of it. ] But knowing what we do, we can onlywonder at the strange phenomenon. It is as if Chopin had herethrown overboard the Polish part of his natal inheritance andgiven himself up unrestrainedly and voluptuously to the Frenchpart. Besides various diatonic runs of an inessential and purelyornamental character, there is in the finale actually a plain andfull-toned C flat major scale. What other work of the composercould be pointed out exhibiting the like feature? Of course, Chopin is as little successful in entirely hiding hisserpentining and chromaticising tendency as Mephistopheles inhiding the limp arising from his cloven foot. Still, thesefallings out of the role are rare and transient, and, on thewhole, Chopin presents himself as a perfect homme du monde whoknows how to say the most insignificant trifles with the mostexquisite grace imaginable. There can. Be nothing more amusingthan the contemporary critical opinions regarding this work, nothing more amusing than to see the at other times censoriousPhilistines unwrinkle their brows, relax generally the sternnessof their features, and welcome, as it were, the return of theprodigal son. We wiser critics of to-day, who, of course, thinkvery differently about this matter, can, nevertheless, enjoy andheartily applaud the prettiness and elegance of the simple firstvariation, the playful tripping second, the schwarmerischemelodious third, the merry swinging fourth, and the brilliantfinale. 

From Chopin's letters we see that the publication of theTarantelle, Op. 43, which took place in the latter part of 1841, was attended with difficulties and annoyances. [FOOTNOTE: HerrSchuberth, of Leipzig, informed me that a honorarium of 500francs was paid to Chopin for this work on July 1, 1841. TheFrench publisher deposited the work at the library of theConservatoire in October, 1841. ] What these difficulties andannoyances were, is, however, only in part ascertainable. To turnfrom the publication to the composition itself, I may say that itis full of life, indeed, spirited in every respect, in movementand in boldness of harmonic and melodic conception. TheTarantelle is a translation from Italian into Polish, atransmutation of Rossini into Chopin, a Neapolitan scene paintedwith opaque colours, the south without its transparent sky, balmyair, and general brightness. That this composition was inspiredby impressions received from Rossini's Tarantella, and not fromimpressions received in Italy (of which, as has already beenrelated, he had a short glimpse in 1839), is evident. Acomparison of Chopin's Op. 43 with Liszt's glowing andintoxicating transcription of Rossini's composition may berecommended as a study equally pleasant and instructive. Althoughnot an enthusiastic admirer of Chopin's Tarantelle, I protest inthe interest of the composer and for justice's sake againstSchumann's dictum: "Nobody can call that beautiful music; but wepardon the master his wild fantasies, for once he may let us seealso the dark sides of his inner life. "

The Allegro de Concert, Op. 46, which was published in November, 1841, although written for the pianoforte alone, contains, nevertheless, passages which are more distinctly orchestral thananything Chopin ever wrote for the orchestra. The form resemblessomewhat that of the concerto. In the first section, whichoccupies the place of the opening tutti, we cannot fail todistinguish the entrances of single instruments, groups ofinstruments, and the full orchestra. The soloist starts in theeighty-seventh bar, and in the following commences a cadenza. With the a tempo comes the first subject (A major), and thepassage-work which brings up the rear leads to the second subject(E major), which had already appeared in the first section in Amajor. The first subject, if I may dignify the matter in questionwith that designation, does not recur again, nor was itintroduced by the tutti. The central and principal thought iswhat I called the second subject. The second section concludeswith brilliant passage-work in E major, the time--honoured shakerousing the drowsy orchestra from its sweet repose. The hint isnot lost, and the orchestra, in the disguise of the pianoforte, attends to its duty right vigorously. With the poco rit. Thesoloist sets to work again, and in the next bar takes up theprincipal subject in A minor. After that we have once morebrilliant passage-work, closing this time in A major, and then afinal tutti. The Allegro de Concert gives rise to all sorts ofsurmises. Was it written first for the pianoforte and orchestra, as Schumann suspects? Or may we make even a bolder guess, andsuppose that the composer, at a more advanced age, worked up intothis Allegro de Concert a sketch for the first movement of aconcerto conceived in his younger days? Have we, perhaps, here afragment or fragments of the Concerto for two pianos whichChopin, in a letter written at Vienna on December 21, 1830, saidhe would play in public with his friend Nidecki, if he succeededin writing it to his satisfaction? And is there any significancein the fact that Chopin, when (probably in the summer of 1841)sending the manuscript of this work to Fontana, calls it aConcerto? Be this as it may, the principal subject and some ofthe passage-work remind one of the time of the concertos; otherthings, again, belong undoubtedly to a later period. The tuttiand solo parts are unmistakable, so different is the treatment ofthe pianoforte: in the former the style has the heaviness of anarrangement, in the latter it has Chopin's usual airiness. Thework, as a whole, is unsatisfactory, nay, almost indigestible. The subjects are neither striking nor important. Of the passage-work, that which follows the second subject contains the mostinteresting matter. Piquant traits and all sorts of fragmentarybeauties are scattered here and there over the movement. Butafter we have considered all, we must confess that this opus addslittle or nothing to the value of our Chopin inheritance. 

[FOOTNOTE: In justice to the composer I must here quote acriticism which since I wrote the above appeared in the Athenaum(January 21, 1888):--"The last-named work [the Allegro deConcert, Op. 46] is not often heard, and is generally regarded asone of Chopin's least interesting and least characteristicpieces. Let us hasten to say that these impressions aredistinctly wrong; the executive difficulties of the work areextremely great, and a mere mastery of them is far from all thatis needed. When M. De Pachmann commenced to play it was quicklyevident that his reading would be most remarkable, and in the endit amounted to an astounding revelation. That which seemed dryand involved became under his fingers instinct with beauty andfeeling; the musicians and amateurs present listened as ifspellbound, and opinion was unanimous that the performance wasnothing short of an artistic creation. For the sake of thecomposer, if not for his own reputation, the pianist shouldrepeat it, not once, but many times. " Notwithstanding thisdecided judgment of a weighty authority--for such everyone will, without hesitation, acknowledge the critic in question to be--Iam unable, after once more examining the work, to alter mypreviously formed opinion. ]

As a further confirmation of the supposed origin of the Allegrode Concert, I may mention the arrangement of it for piano andorchestra (also for two pianos) by Jean Louis Nicode. 

[FOOTNOTE: Nicode has done his work well so far as he kept closeto the text of Chopin; but his insertion of a working-out sectionof more than seventy bars is not justifiable, and, moreover, though making the work more like an orthodox first movement of aconcerto, does not enhance its beauty and artistic value. ]

To the Sonata in B flat minor, Op. 35 (published in May, 1840), this most powerful of Chopin's works in the larger forms, Liszt'sremark, "Plus de volonte que d'inspiration, " is hardlyapplicable, although he used the expression in speaking ofChopin's concertos and sonatas in general; for there is no lackof inspiration here, nor are there traces of painful, unrewardedeffort. Each of the four pieces of which the sonata consists isfull of vigour, originality, and interest. But whether they canbe called a sonata is another question. Schumann, in his playfulmanner, speaks of caprice and wantonness, and insinuates thatChopin bound together four of his maddest children, and entitledthem sonata, in order that he might perhaps under this namesmuggle them in where otherwise they would not penetrate. Ofcourse, this is a fancy of Schumann's. Still, one cannot helpwondering whether the composer from the first intended to write asonata and obtained this result--amphora coepit institui;currente rota cur urceus exit?--or whether these four movementsgot into existence without any predestination, and wereafterwards put under one cover. [FOOTNOTE: At any rate, the marchwas finished before the rest of the work. See the quotation fromone of Chopin's letters farther on. ] With all Schumann'sadmiration for Chopin and praise of this sonata, it appears to methat he does not give Chopin his due. There is something giganticin the work which, although it does not elevate and ennoble, being for the most part a purposeless fuming, impresses onepowerfully. The first movement begins with four bars grave, agroan full of pain; then the composer, in restless, breathlesshaste, is driven by his feelings onward, ever onward, till hecomes to the lovely, peaceful second subject (in D flat major, areal contrast this time), which grows by-and-by more passionate, and in the concluding portion of the first part transcends thelimits of propriety--VIDE those ugly dissonances. The connectionof the close of the first part with the repetition of this andthe beginning of the second part by means of the chord of thedominant seventh in A flat and that in D flat with the suspendedsixth, is noteworthy. The strange second section, in which thefirst subject is worked out, has the appearance rather of animprovisation than of a composition. After this a few bars in 6/4time, fiercely wild (stretto) at first, but gradually subsiding, lead to the repeat in B flat major of the second subject--thefirst subject does not appear again in its original form. To theclose, which is like that of the corresponding section in thefirst part (6/4), is added a coda (2/2) introducing thecharacteristic motive of the first subject. In the scherzo, thegrandest movement and the climax of the sonata, the gloom and thethreatening power which rise to a higher and higher pitch becomequite weird and fear-inspiring; it affects one like loweringclouds, rolling of thunder, and howling and whistling of the wind--to the latter, for instance, the chromatic successions of chordsof the sixth may not inappropriately be likened. The piu lento iscertainly one of the most scherzo-like thoughts in Chopin'sscherzos--so light and joyful, yet a volcano is murmuring underthis serenity. The return of this piu lento, after the repeat ofthe first section, is very fine and beneficently refreshing, likenature after a storm. The Marche funebre ranks among Chopin'sbest-known and most highly-appreciated pieces. Liszt mentions itwith particular distinction, and grows justly eloquent over it. Ido not altogether understand Schumann's objection: "It is stillmore gloomy than the scherzo, " he says, "and contains even muchthat is repulsive; in its place an adagio, perhaps in D flat, would have had an incomparably finer effect. " Out of the dull, stupefied brooding, which is the fundamental mood of the firstsection, there rises once and again (bars 7 and 8, and 11 and 12)a pitiable wailing, and then an outburst of passionate appealing(the forte passage in D flat major), followed by a sinkinghelplessness (the two bars with the shakes in the bass), accompanied by moans and deep breathings. The two parts of thesecond section are a rapturous gaze into the beatific regions ofa beyond, a vision of reunion of what for the time is severed. The last movement may be counted among the curiosities ofcomposition--a presto in B flat minor of seventy-five bars, anendless series of triplets from beginning to end in octaves. Itcalls up in one's mind the solitude and dreariness of a desert. "The last movement is more like mockery than music, " saysSchumann, but adds, truly and wisely--

 and yet one confesses to one's self that also out of this unmelodious and joyless movement a peculiar dismal spirit breathes upon us, who keeps down with a strong hand that which would revolt, so that we obey, as if we were charmed, without murmuring, but also without praising, for that is no music. Thus the sonata concludes, as it began, enigmatically, like a sphinx with a mocking smile. 

J. W. Davison, in the preface to an edition of Chopin's mazurkas, relates that Mendelssohn, on being questioned about the finale ofone of Chopin's sonatas (I think it must have been the one beforeus), said briefly and bitterly, "Oh, I abhor it!" H. Barbedetteremarks in his "Chopin, " a criticism without insight andoriginality, of this finale, "C'est Lazare grattant de ses onglesla pierre de son tombeau et tombant epuise de fatigue, de faim etde desespoir. " And now let the reader recall the words whichChopin wrote from Nohant to Fontana in the summer of 1839:--

 I am composing here a Sonata in B flat minor, in which will be the funeral march which you have already. There is an Allegro, then a Scherzo, in E flat minor, the March, and a short Finale of about three pages. The left hand unisono with the right hand are gossiping after the March [ogaduja po Marszu]. 

The meaning of which somewhat obscure interpretation seems to be, that after the burial the good neighbours took to discussing themerits of the departed, not without a spice of backbiting. 

The Sonata in B minor, Op. 58, the second of Chopin's notablepianoforte sonatas (the third if we take into account theunpalatable Op. 4), made its appearance five years later, inJune, 1845. Unity is as little discernible in this sonata as inits predecessor. The four movements of which the work consistsare rather affiliated than cognate; nay, this may be said even ofmany parts of the movements. The first movement by far surpassesthe other three in importance: indeed, the wealth of beautifuland interesting matter which is here heaped up--for it is ratheran unsifted accumulation than an artistic presentation andevolution--would have sufficed many a composer for severalmovements. The ideas are very unequal and their course very jerkytill we come to the second subject (D major), which swells outinto a broad stream of impassioned melody. Farther on the matterbecomes again jerky and mosaic-like. While the close of the firstpart is very fine, the beginning of the second is a comfortlesswaste. Things mend with the re-entrance of the subsidiary part ofthe second subject (now in D flat major), which, after beingdwelt upon for some time and varied, disappears, and is followedby a repetition of portions of the first subject, the wholesecond subject (in B major), and the closing period, which isprolonged by a coda to make the close more emphatic andsatisfying. A light and graceful quaver figure winds with nowrippling, now waving motion through the first and third sectionsof the scherzo; in the contrasting second section, with thesustained accompaniment and the melody in one of the middleparts, the entrance of the bright A major, after the gloom of thepreceding bars, is very effective. The third movement has thecharacter of a nocturne, and as such cannot fail to be admired. In the visionary dreaming of the long middle section we imaginethe composer with dilated eyes and rapture in his look--it israther a reverie than a composition. The finale surrounds us withan emotional atmosphere somewhat akin to that of the firstmovement, but more agitated. After eight bold introductory barswith piercing dissonances begins the first subject, which, withits rhythmically differently-accompanied repetition, is the mostimportant constituent of the movement. The rest, although finelypolished, is somewhat insignificant. In short, this is the oldstory, plus de volonte que d'inspiration, that is to say, inspiration of the right sort. And also, plus de volonte que desavoir-faire. 

There is one work of Chopin's to which Liszt's dictum, plus devolnte que d'inspiratio, applies in all, and even more than allits force. I allude to the Sonata (in G minor) for piano andvioloncello, Op. 65 (published in September, 1847), in whichhardly anything else but effort, painful effort, manifestsitself. The first and last movements are immense wildernesseswith only here and there a small flower. The middle movements, aScherzo and an Andante, do not rise to the dignity of a sonata, and, moreover, lack distinction, especially the slow movement, anocturne-like dialogue between the two instruments. As to thebeauties--such as the first subject of the first movement (at theentrance of the violoncello), the opening bars of the Scherzo, part of the ANDANTE, &c. --they are merely beginnings, springsthat lose themselves soon in a sandy waste. Hence I have not theheart to controvert Moscheles who, in his diary, says somecutting things about this work: "In composition Chopin provesthat he has only isolated happy thoughts which he does not knowhow to work up into a rounded whole. In the just published sonatawith violoncello I find often passages which sound as if someonewere preluding on the piano and knocked at all the keys to learnwhether euphony was at home. " [FOOTNOTE: Aus Moscheles' Leben;Vol. II. , p. 171. ] An entry of the year 1850 runs as follows:"But a trial of patience of another kind is imposed on me byChopin's Violoncello Sonata, which I am arranging for four hands. To me it is a tangled forest, through which now and thenpenetrates a gleam of the sun. " [FOOTNOTE: Ibid. , Vol. II. , p. 216. ] To take up after the last-discussed work a composition likethe Grand Duo Concertant for piano and violoncello, on themesfrom "Robert le Diable, " by Chopin and A. Franchomme, is quite arelief, although it is really of no artistic importance. Schumannis right when he says of this DUO, which saw the light ofpublicity (without OPUS number) in 1833:14 [FOOTNOTE: The firstperformance of Meyerbeer's "Robert le Diable" took place at theParis Opera on November 21, 1831. ] "A piece for a SALON wherebehind the shoulders of counts and countesses now and then risesthe head of a celebrated artist. " And he may also be right whenhe says:--

 It seems to me that Chopin sketched the whole of it, and that Franchomme said "yes" to everything; for what Chopin touches takes his form and spirit, and in this minor salon-style he expresses himself with grace and distinction, compared with which all the gentility of other brilliant composers together with all their elegance vanish into thin air. 

The mention of the DUO is somewhat out of place here, but theSonata, Op. 65, in which the violoncello is employed, naturallysuggested it. 

We have only one more work to consider before we come to thegroups of masterpieces in the smaller forms above enumerated. Butthis last work is one of Chopin's best compositions, and in itsway no less a masterpiece than these. Unfettered by the scheme ofa definite form such as the sonata or concerto, the composerdevelops in the Fantaisie, Op. 49 (published in November, 1841), his thought with masterly freedom. There is an enthrallingweirdness about this work, a weirdness made up of force ofpassion and an indescribable fantastic waywardness. Nothing morecommon than the name of Fantasia, here we have the thing! Themusic falls on our ears like the insuppressible outpouring of abeing stirred to its heart's core, and full of immeasurable loveand longing. Who would suspect the composer's fragility andsickliness in this work? Does it not rather suggest a Titan incommotion? There was a time when I spoke of the Fantasia in aless complimentary tone, now I bow down my head regretfully andexclaim peccavi. The disposition of the composition may be thusbriefly indicated. A tempo di marcia opens the Fantasia--it formsthe porch of the edifice. The dreamy triplet passages of the pocoa poco piu mosso are comparable to galleries that connect thevarious blocks of buildings. The principal subject, oraccumulation of themes, recurs again and again in different keys, whilst other subjects appear only once or twice between therepetitions of the principal subject. 

The mazurkas of Chopin are a literature in themselves, said Lenz, and there is some truth in his saying. They may, indeed, becalled a literature in themselves for two reasons--first, becauseof their originality, which makes them things sui generis; andsecondly, because of the poetical and musical wealth of theircontents. Chopin, as I have already said, is most national in themazurkas and polonaises, for the former of which he draws notonly inspiration, but even rhythmic, melodic, and harmonicmotives from his country's folk-music. Liszt told me, in aconversation I had with him, that he did not care much forChopin's mazurkas. "One often meets in them with bars which mightjust as well be in another place. " But he added, "And yet asChopin puts them, perhaps nobody else could have put them. " Andmark, those are the words of one who also told me that when hesometimes played half-an-hour for his amusement, he liked toresort to Chopin. Moscheles, I suspect, had especially themazurkas in his mind when, in 1833, [FOOTNOTE: At this time thepublished compositions of Chopin were, of course, not numerous, but they included the first two books of Mazurkas, Op. 6 and 7. ]he said of the Polish master's compositions that he found "muchcharm in their originality and national colouring, " and that "histhoughts and through them the fingers stumbled over certain hard, inartistic modulations. " Startling progressions, unreconciledcontrasts, and abrupt changes of mood are characteristic ofSlavonic music and expressive of the Slavonic character. Whetherthey ought to be called inartistic or not, we will leave time todecide, if it has not done so already; the Russian and otherSlavonic composers, who are now coming more and more to thefront, seem to be little in doubt as to their legitimacy. Ineither regard Chopin's mazurkas as his most artisticachievements nor recommend their capriciousness andfragmentariness for general imitation. But if we view them fromthe right stand-point, which is not that of classicism, we cannothelp admiring them. The musical idiom which the composer uses inthese, notwithstanding their capriciousness and fragmentariness, exquisitely-finished miniatures, has a truly delightful piquancy. Yet delightful as their language is, the mazurkas have a farhigher claim to our admiration. They are poems--social poems, poems of private life, in distinction from the polonaises, whichare political poems. Although Chopin's mazurkas and polonaisesare no less individual than the other compositions of this mostsubjective of subjective poets, they incorporate, nevertheless, agood deal of the poetry of which the national dances of thosenames are the expression or vehicle. And let it be noted, inPoland so-called civilisation did not do its work so fast andeffectually as in Western Europe; there dancing had not yetbecome in Chopin's days a merely formal and conventional affair, a matter of sinew and muscle. 

It is, therefore, advisable that we should make ourselvesacquainted with the principal Polish dances; such anacquaintance, moreover, will not only help us to interpret arightChopin's mazurkas and polonaises, but also to gain a deeperinsight into his ways of feeling and seeing generally. Now thereader will become aware that the long disquisitions on Polandand the Poles at the commencement of this biography were notsuperfluous accessories. For completeness' sake I shall prefacethe description of the mazurka by a short one of the krakowiak, the third of the triad of principal Polish dances. The informantson whom I shall chiefly rely when I am not guided by my ownobservations are the musician Sowinski and the poet Brodzinski, both Poles:

 The krakowiak [says Albert Sowinski in chant polonais] bubbles over with esprit and gaiety; its name indicates its origin. It is the delight of the salons, and especially of the huts. The Cracovians dance it in a very agitated and expressive manner, singing at the same time words made for the occasion of which they multiply the stanzas and which they often improvise. These words are of an easy gaiety which remind one strangely of the rather loose [semi-grivoises] songs so popular in France; others again are connected with the glorious epochs of history, with the sweet or sad memories which it calls up, and are a faithful expression of the character and manners of the nation. 

Casimir Brodzinski describes the dance as follows:--

 The krakowiak resembles in its figures a simplified polonaise; it represents, compared with the latter, a less advanced social state. The boldest and strongest takes the position of leader and conducts the dance; he sings, the others join in chorus; he dances, they imitate him. Often also the krakowiak represents, in a kind of little ballet, the simple course of a love-affair: one sees a couple of young people place themselves before the orchestra; the young man looks proud, presumptuous, preoccupied with his costume and beauty. Before long he becomes meditative, and seeks inspiration to improvise verses which the cries of his companions ask for, and which the time beaten by them provoke, as well as the manoeuvre of the young girl, who is impatient to dance. Arriving before the orchestra after making a round, the dancer generally takes the liberty of singing a refrain which makes the young girl blush; she runs away, and it is in pursuing her that the young man displays all his agility. At the last round it is the young man who pretends to run away from his partner; she tries to seize his arm, after which they dance together until the ritornello puts an end to their pleasure. 

As a technical supplement to the above, I may say that thislively dance is in 2/4 time, and like other Polish dances has therhythmical peculiarity of having frequently the accent on ausually unaccented part of the bar, especially at the end of asection or a phrase, for instance, on the second quaver of thesecond and the fourth bar, thus:--

[Here, the author illustrates with a rhythm diagram consisting ofa line of notes divided in measures: 1/8 1/16 1/16 1/8 1/8 | 1/81/4 1/8 | 1/8 1/16 1/16 1/8 1/8 | 1/8 1/4 dot]

Chopin has only once been inspired by the krakowiak--namely, inhis Op. 14, entitled Krakowiak, Grand Rondeau de Concert, acomposition which was discussed in Chapter VIII. Thus much of thekrakowiak; now to the more interesting second of the triad. 

 The mazurek [or mazurka], whose name comes from Mazovia, one of our finest provinces, is the most characteristic dance-tune --it is the model of all our new tunes. One distinguishes, however, these latter easily from the ancient ones on account of their less original and less cantabile form. There are two kinds of mazureks: one, of which the first portion is always in minor and the second in major, has a romance-like colouring, it is made to be sung, in Polish one says "to be heard" (do sludninin); the other serves as an accompaniment to a dance, of which the figures arc multiplied passes and coiuluiles. Its movement is in time, and yet less quick than the waltz. The motive is in dotted notes, which must be executed with energy and warmth, but not without a certain dignity. 

Now the mazurka is generally written in 3/4-time; Chopin's areall written thus. The dotted rhythmical motive alluded to bySowinski is this, or similar to this--

[Another rhythm diagram: 1/8 dot 1/16 1/4 1/4 | 1/8 dot 1/16 1/2]

But the dotted notes are by no means de rigueur. As motives likethe following--

[Another rhythm diagram: 1/4 1/2 | 1/8 1/8 1/4 1/4 | triplet 1/41/4 | triple 1/8 1/8 1/8 1/8]

are of frequent occurrence, I would propose a more comprehensivedefinition--namely, that the first part of the bar consistsmostly of quicker notes than the latter part. But even this morecomprehensive definition does not comprehend all; it is a rulewhich has many exceptions. [FOOTNOTE: See the musicalillustrations on pp. 217-218. ] Le Sowinski mentions only oneclassification of mazurkas. Several others, however, exist. First, according to the district from which they derive--mazurkasof Kujavia, of Podlachia, of Lublin, &c. ; or, secondly, accordingto their character, or to the purpose or occasion for which theywere composed: wedding, village, historical, martial, andpolitical mazurkas. And now let us hear what the poet Brodzinskihas to say about the nature of this dance:-

 The mazurek in its primitive form and as the common people dance is only a kind of krakowiak, only less lively and less sautillant. The agile Cracovians and the mountaineers of the Carpathians call the mazurek danced by the inhabitants of the plain but a dwarfed krakowiak. The proximity of the Germans, or rather the sojourn of the German troops, has caused the true character of the mazurek among the people to be lost; this dance hap become a kind of awkward waltz. 

 With the people of the capital the real dances of the country are disfigured not only by the influx of foreigners, but especially also by the unfortunate employment of barrel- organs. .. . It is this instrument which crushes among the people the practice of music, and takes the means of subsistence from the village fiddler, who becomes more and more rare since every tavern-keeper, in buying a barrel-organ, easily puts an end to all competition. We see already more and more disappear from our country sides these sweet songs and improvised refrains which the rustic minstrels remembered and repeated, and the truly national music gives way, alas! to the themes borrowed from the operas most in vogue. 

 The mazurek, thus degenerated among the people, has been adopted by the upper classes who, in preserving the national allures, perfected it to the extent of rendering it, beyond doubt, one of the most graceful dances in Europe. This dance has much resemblance with the French quadrille, according to what is analogous in the characters of the two nations; in seeing these two dances one might say that a French woman dances only to please, and that a Polish woman pleases by abandoning herself to a kind of maiden gaiety--the graces which she displays come rather from nature than from art. A French female dancer recalls the ideal of Greek statues; a Polish female dancer has something which recalls the shepherdesses created by the imagination of the poets; if the former charms us, the latter attaches us. 

 As modern dances lend themselves especially to the triumph of the women, because the costume of the men is so little favourable, it is noteworthy that the mazurek forms here an exception; for a young man, and especially a young Pole, remarkable by a certain amiable boldness, becomes soon the soul and hero of this dance. A light and in some sort pastoral dress for the women, and the Polish military costume so advantageous for the men, add to the charm of the picture which the mazurek presents to the eye of the painter. This dance permits to the whole body the most lively and varied movements, leaves the shoulders full liberty to bend with that ABANDON which, accompanied by a joyous laisser-aller and a certain movement of the foot striking the floor, is exceedingly graceful. 

 One finds often a magic effect in the animated enthusiasm which characterises the different movements of the head--now proudly erect, now tenderly sunk on the bosom, now lightly inclined towards the shoulder, and always depicting in large traits the abundance of life and joy, shaded with simple, graceful, and delicate sentiments. Seeing in the mazurek the female dancer almost carried away in the arms and on the shoulders of her cavalier, abandoning herself entirely to his guidance, one thinks one sees two beings intoxicated with happiness and flying towards the celestial regions. The female dancer, lightly dressed, scarcely skimming the earth with her dainty foot, holding on by the hand of her partner, in the twinkling of an eye carried away by several others, and then, like lightning, precipitating herself again into the arms of the first, offers the image of the most happy and delightful creature. The music of the mazurek is altogether national and original; through its gaiety breathes usually something of melancholy--one might say that it is destined to direct the steps of lovers, whose passing sorrows are not without charm. 

Chopin himself published forty-one mazurkas of his composition ineleven sets of four, five, or three numbers--Op. 6, QuatreMazurkas, and Op. 7, Cinq Mazurkas, in December, 1832; Op. 17, Quatre Mazurkas, in May, 1834; Op. 24, Quatre Mazurkas, inNovember, 1835; Op. 30, Quatre Maazurkas, in December, 1837; Op. 33, Quatre Mazurkas, in October, 1838; Op. 41, Quatre Mazurkas, in December, 1840; Op. 50, Trois Mazurkas, in November, 1841; Op, 56, Trois Mazurkas, in August, 1844; Op. 59, Trois Mazurkas, inApril, 1846; and Op. 63, Trois Mazurkas, in September, 1847. Intne posthumous works published by Fontana there are two moresets, each of four numbers, and respectively marked as Op. 67 and68. Lastly, several other mazurkas composed by or attributed toChopin have been published without any opus number. Two mazurkas, both in A minor, although very feeble compositions, are includedin the editions by Klindworth and Mikuli. The Breitkopf andHartel edition, which includes only one of these two mazurkas, comprises further a mazurka in G major and one in B flat major of1825, one in D major of 1829-30, a remodelling of the same of1832--these have already been discussed--and a somewhat moreinteresting one in C major of 1833. Of one of the two mazurkas inA minor, a poor thing and for the most part little Chopinesque, only the dedication (a son ami Rmile Gaillard) is known, but notthe date of composition. The other (the one not included inBreitkopf and Hartel's, No. 50 of Mikuli's and Klindworth'sedition) appeared first as No. 2 of Noire Temps, a publication bySchott's Sohne. On inquiry I learned that Notre Temps was thegeneral title of a series of 12 pieces by Czerny, Chopin, Kalliwoda, Rosenhain, Thalberg, Kalkbrenner, Mendelssohn, Bertini, Wolff, Kontski, Osborne, and Herz, which appeared in1842 or 1843 as a Christmas Album. [FOONOTE: I find, however, that Chopin's Mazurka was already separately announced as "NotreTemps, No. 2, " in the Monatsberichte of February, 1842. ] Whethera Mazurka elegante by Fr, Chopin, advertised in La FranceMusicale of April 6, 1845, as en vente au Bureau de musique, 29, Place de la Bourse, is identical with one of the above-enumeratedmazurkas I have not been able to discover. In the Klindworthedition [FOOTNOTE: That is to say, in the original Russian, notin the English (Augener and Co. 's) edition; and there only by thedesire of the publishers and against the better judgment of theeditor. ] is also to be found a very un-Chopinesque Mazurka in Fsharp major, previously published by J. P. Gotthard, in Vienna, the authorship of which Mr. E. Pauer has shown to belong toCharles Mayer. 

[FOOTNOTE: In an article, entitled Musical Plagiarism in theMonthly Musical Record of July 1, 1882 (where also the mazurka inquestion is reprinted), we read as follows:--"In 1877 Mr. E. Pauer, whilst preparing a comprehensive guide through the entireliterature of the piano, looked through many thousand pieces forthat instrument published by German firms, and came across amazurka by Charles Mayer, published by Pietro Mechetti(afterwards C. A. Spinal, and entitled Souvenirs de la Pologne. Afew weeks later a mazurka, a posthumous work of F. Chopin, published by J. Gotthard, came into his hands. At first, althoughthe piece 'struck him as being an old acquaintance, ' he could notfix the time when and the place where he had heard it; but atlast the Mayer mazurka mentioned above returned to hisremembrance, and on comparing the two, he found that they wereone and the same piece. From the appearance of the title-page andthe size of the notes, Mr. Pauer, who has had considerableexperience in these matters, concluded that the Mayer copy musthave been published between the years 1840 and 1845, and wrote toMr. Gotthard pointing out the similarity of Chopin's posthumouswork, and asking how he came into possession of the Chopinmanuscript. Mr. Gotthard replied, 'that he had bought the mazurkaas Chopin's autograph from a Polish countess, who, being in saddistress, parted, though with the greatest sorrow, with thecomposition of her illustrious compatriot. ' Mr. Pauer naturallyconcludes that Mr. Gotthard had been deceived, that themanuscript was not a genuine autograph, and 'that the honour ofhaving composed the mazurka in question belongs to CharlesMayer. ' Mr. Pauer further adds: 'It is not likely that C. Mayer, even if Chopin had made him a present of this mazurka, would havepublished it during Chopin's lifetime as a work of his own, orhave sold or given it to the Polish countess. It is much morelikely that Mayer's mazurka was copied in the style of Chopin'shandwriting, and after Mayer's death in 1862 sold as Chopin'sautograph to Mr. Gotthard. '"]

Surveying the mazurkas in their totality, we cannot but noticethat there is a marked difference between those up to and thoseabove Op. 41. In the later ones we look in vain for the beautessauvages which charm us in the earlier ones--they strike usrather by their propriety of manner and scholarly elaboration; inshort, they have more of reflective composition and less ofspontaneous effusion about them. This, however, must not be takentoo literally. There are exceptions, partial and total. The"native wood-notes wild" make themselves often heard, only theyare almost as often stifled in the close air of the study. Strange to say, the last opus (63) of mazurkas published byChopin has again something of the early freshness and poetry. Schumann spoke truly when he said that some poetical trait, something new, was to be found in every one of Chopin's mazurkas. They are indeed teeming with interesting matter. Looked at fromthe musician's point of view, how much do we not see that isnovel and strange, and beautiful and fascinating withal? Sharpdissonances, chromatic passing notes, suspensions andanticipations, displacements of accent, progressions of perfectfifths (the horror of schoolmen), [FOOTNOTE: See especially thepassage near the close of Op. 30, No. 4, where there are fourbars of simultaneous consecutive fifths and sevenths. ] suddenturns and unexpected digressions that are so unaccountable, soout of the line of logical sequence, that one's following thecomposer is beset with difficulties, marked rhythm picture to usthe graceful motions of the dancers, and suggest the clashing ofthe spurs and the striking of heels against the ground. Thesecond mazurka might be called "the request. " All the arts ofpersuasion are tried, from the pathetic to the playful, and avein of longing, not unmixed with sadness, runs through thewhole, or rather forms the basis of it. The tender commencementof the second part is followed, as it were, by the several timesrepeated questions--Yes? No? (Bright sunshine? Dark clouds?) Butthere comes no answer, and the poor wretch has to begin anew. Ahelpless, questioning uncertainty and indecision characterise thethird mazurka. For a while the composer gives way (at thebeginning of the second part) to anger, and speaks in a defianttone; but, as if perceiving the unprofitableness of it, returnssoon to his first strain. Syncopations, suspensions, andchromatic passing notes form here the composer's chief stock intrade, displacement of everything in melody, harmony, and rhythmis the rule. Nobody did anything like this before Chopin, and, asfar as I know, nobody has given to the world an equally minuteand distinct representation of the same intimate emotionalexperiences. My last remarks hold good with the fourth mazurka, which is bleak and joyless till, with the entrance of A major, afairer prospect opens. But those jarring tones that strike inwake the dreamer pitilessly. The commencement of the mazurka, aswell as the close on the chord of the sixth, the chromaticglidings of the harmonies, the strange twirls and skips, give aweird character to this piece. 

The origin of the polonaise (Taniec Polski, Polish dance), likethat of the, no doubt, older mazurka, is lost in the dim past. For much credit can hardly be given to the popular belief that itdeveloped out of the measured procession, to the sound of music, of the nobles and their ladies, which is said to have first takenplace in 1574, the year after his election to the Polish throne, when Henry of Anjou received the grandees of his realm. Theancient polonaises were without words, and thus they were stillin the time of King Sobieski (1674-96). Under the subsequentkings of the house of Saxony, however, they were often adapted towords or words were adapted to them. Celebrated polonaises ofpolitical significance are: the Polonaise of the 3rd of May, adapted to words relative to the promulgation of the famousconstitution of the 3rd of May, 1791; the Kosciuszko Polonaise, with words adapted to already existing music, dedicated to thegreat patriot and general when, in 1792, the nation rose indefence of the constitution; the Oginski Polonaise, also calledthe Swan's song and the Partition of Poland, a compositionwithout words, of the year 1793 (at the time of the secondpartition), by Prince Michael Cleophas Oginski. Among the Polishcomposers of the second half of the last century and thebeginning of the present whose polonaises enjoyed in their day, and partly enjoy still, a high reputation, are especially notableKozlowski, Kamienski, Elsner, Deszczynski, Bracicki, Wanski, Prince Oginski, Kurpinski, and Dobrzynski. Outside Poland thepolonaise, both as an instrumental and vocal composition, both asan independent piece and part of larger works, had during thesame period quite an extraordinary popularity. Whether we examinethe productions of the classics or those of the inferiorvirtuosic and drawing-room composers, [FOOTNOTE: I should haveadded "operatic composers. "] everywhere we find specimens of thepolonaise. Pre-eminence among the most successful foreigncultivators of this Polish dance has, however, been accorded toSpohr and Weber. I said just now "this dance, " but, strictlyspeaking, the polonaise, which has been called a marche dansante, is not so much a dance as a figured walk, or procession, full ofgravity and a certain courtly etiquette. As to the music of thepolonaise, it is in 3/4 time, and of a moderate movement (ratherslow than quick). The flowing and more or less florid melody hasrhythmically a tendency to lean on the second crotchet and evenon the second quaver of the bar (see illustration No. 1, a andb), and generally concludes each of its parts with one of certainstereotyped formulas of a similar rhythmical cast (seeillustration No. 2, a, b, c, and d). The usual accompanimentconsists of a bass note at the beginning of the bar followed, except at the cadences, by five quavers, of which the first maybe divided into semiquavers. Chopin, however, emancipated himselfmore and more from these conventionalities in his later poeticpolonaises. 

[Two music score excerpts here, labeled No. 1 and No. 2]

 The polonaise [writes Brodzinski] is the only dance which suits mature age, and is not unbecoming to persons of elevated rank; it is the dance of kings, heroes, and even old men; it alone suits the martial dress. It does not breathe any passion, but seems to be only a triumphal march, an expression of chivalrous and polite manners. A solemn gravity presides always at the polonaise, which, perhaps, alone recalls neither the fire of primitive manners nor the gallantry of more civilised but more enervated ages. Besides these principal characteristics, the polonaise bears a singularly national and historical impress; for its laws recall an aristocratic republic with a disposition to anarchy, flowing less from the character of the people than from its particular legislation. In the olden times the polonaise was a kind of solemn ceremony. The king, holding by the hand the most distinguished personage of the assembly, marched at the head of a numerous train of couples composed of men alone: this dance, made more effective by the splendour of the chivalrous costumes, was only, strictly speaking, a triumphal march. 

 If a lady was the object of the festival, it was her privilege to open the march, holding by the hand another lady. All the others followed until the queen of the ball, having offered her hand to one of the men standing round the room, induced the other ladies to follow her example. 

 The ordinary polonaise is opened by the most distinguished person of the gathering, whose privilege it is to conduct the whole file of the dancers or to break it up. This is called in Polish rey wodzic, figuratively, to be the leader, in some sort the king (from the Latin rex). To dance at the head was also called to be the marshal, on account of the privileges of a marshal at the Diets. The whole of this form is connected with the memories and customs of raising the militia (pospolite), or rather of the gathering of the national assemblies in Poland. Hence, notwithstanding the deference paid to the leaders, who have the privilege of conducting at will the chain of dancers, it is allowable, by a singular practice made into a law, to dethrone a leader every time any bold person calls out odbiianego, which means retaken by force or reconquered; he who pronounces this word is supposed to wish to reconquer the hand of the first lady and the direction of the dance; it is a kind of act of liberum veto, to which everyone is obliged to give way. The leader then abandons the hand of his lady to the new pretender; every cavalier dances with the lady of the following couple, and it is only the cavalier of the last couple who finds himself definitively ousted if he has not the boldness to insist likewise upon his privilege of equality by demanding odbiianego, and placing himself at the head. 

 But as a privilege of this nature too often employed would throw the whole ball into complete anarchy, two means are established to obviate this abuse--namely, the leader makes use of his right to terminate the polonaise, in imitation of a king or marshal dissolving a Diet, or else, according to the predominating wish, all the cavaliers leave the ladies alone in the middle, who then choose new partners and continue the dance, excluding the disturbers and discontented, which recalls the confederations employed for the purpose of making the will of the majority prevail. 

 The polonaise breathes and paints the whole national character; the music of this dance, while admitting much art, combines something martial with a sweetness marked by the simplicity of manners of an agricultural people. Foreigners have distorted this character of the polonaises; the natives themselves preserve it less in our day in consequence of the frequent employment of motives drawn from modern operas. As to the dance itself, the polonaise has become in our day a kind of promenade which has little charm for the young, and is but a scene of etiquette for those of a riper age. Our fathers danced it with a marvellous ability and a gravity full of nobleness; the dancer, making gliding steps with energy, but without skips, and caressing his moustache, varied his movements by the position of his sabre, of his cap, and of his tucked-up coat-sleeves, distinctive signs of a free man and warlike citizen. Whoever has seen a Pole of the old school dance the polonaise in the national costume will confess without hesitation that this dance is the triumph of a well- made man, with a noble and proud tournure, and with an air at once manly and gay. 

After this Brodzinski goes on to describe the way in which thepolonaise used to be danced. But instead of his description Ishall quote a not less true and more picturesque one from thelast canto of Mickiewicz's "Pan Tadeusz":--

 It is time to dance the polonaise. The President comes forward; he lightly throws back the fausses manches of his overcoat, caresses his moustache, presents his hand to Sophia: and, by a respectful salute, invites her for the first couple. Behind them range themselves the other dancers, two and two; the signal is given, the dance is begun, the President directs it. 

 His red boots move over the green sward, his belt sends forth flashes of light; he proceeds slowly, as if at random: but in every one of his steps, in every one of his movements, one can read the feelings and the thoughts of the dancer. He stops as if to question his partner; he leans towards her, wishes to speak to her in an undertone. The lady turns away, does not listen, blushes. He takes off his cap, and salutes her respectfully. The lady is not disinclined to look at him, but persists in being silent. He slackens his pace, seeks to read in her eyes, and smiles. Happy in her mute answer, he walks more quickly, looking proudly at his rivals; now he draws his cap with the heron-feathers forward, now he pushes it back. At last he puts it on one side and turns up his moustaches. He withdraws; all envy him, all follow his footsteps. He would like to disappear with his lady. Sometimes he stops, raises politely his hand, and begs the dancers to pass by him. Sometimes he tries to slip dexterously away, changing the direction. He would like to deceive his companions; but the troublesome individuals follow him with a nimble step, entwine him with more and more tightened loops. He becomes angry; lays his right hand on his sword as if he wished to say: "Woe to the jealous!" He turns, pride on his countenance, a challenge in his air, and marches straight on the company, who give way at his approach, open to him a passage, and soon, by a rapid evolution, are off again in pursuit of him. 

 On all sides one hears the exclamation: "Ah! this is perhaps the last. Look, young people, perhaps this is the last who will know how to conduct thus the polonaise!"

Among those of Chopin's compositions which he himself publishedare, exclusive of the "Introduction et Polonaise brillante" forpiano and violoncello, Op. 3, eight polonaises--namely: "GrandePolonaise brillante" (in E flat major), "precedee d'un Andantespianato" (in G major), "pour le piano avec orchestre, " Op. 22;"Deux Polonaises" (in C sharp minor and E flat minor), Op. 26;"Deux Polonaises" (in A major and C minor), Op. 40; "Polonaise"(F sharp minor), Op. 44; "Polonaise" (in A flat major), Op. 53;[FOOTNOTE: This polonaise is called the "eighth" on the title-page, which, of course, it is only by including the "Polonaise, "Op. 3, for piano and violoncello. ] and "Polonaise-Fantaisie" (inA flat major), Op. 61. The three early polonaises posthumously-published by Fontana as Op. 71 have already been discussed inChapter VIII. Other posthumously-published polonaises--such asthe Polonaise in G sharp minor, to be found in Mikuli's edition, and one in B flat minor of the year 1826, first published in thesupplement of the journal "Echo Muzyczne"--need not be consideredby us. [FOOTNOTE: Both polonaises are included in the Breitkopfand Hartel edition, where the one in G sharp minor bears theunlikely date 1822. The internal evidence speaks against thisstatement. ]

Chopin's Polonaises Op. 26, 40, 53, and 61 are pre-eminentlypolitical, they are the composer's expression of his patrioticfeelings. It is not difficult to recognise in them proud memoriesof past splendours, sad broodings over present humiliations, bright visions of a future resurrection. They are full of martialchivalry, of wailing dejection, of conspiracy and sedition, ofglorious victories. The poetically-inferior Polonaise, Op. 22, onthe other hand, while unquestionably Polish in spirit, is notpolitical. Chopin played this work, which was probably composed, or at least sketched, in 1830, [FOOTNOTE: See Vol. I. , Chapterxiii. , pp. 201, 202. ] and certainly published in July, 1836, forthe first time in public at a Paris Conservatoire concert for thebenefit of Habeneck on April 26, 1835; and this was the onlyoccasion on which he played it with orchestral accompaniments. The introductory Andante (in G major, and 6/8 time), as theaccompanying adjective indicates, is smooth and even. It makesone think of a lake on a calm, bright summer day. A boat glidesover the pellucid, unruffled surface of the water, by-and-byhalts at a shady spot by the shore, or by the side of some island(3/4 time), then continues its course (f time), and finallyreturns to its moorings (3/4). I can perceive no connectionbetween the Andante and the following Polonaise (in E flat major)except the factitious one of a formal and forced transition, withwhich the orchestra enters on the scene of action (Allegro molto, 3/4). After sixteen bars of tutti, the pianoforte commences, unaccompanied, the polonaise. Barring the short and in no wayattractive and remarkable test's, the orchestra plays a verysubordinate and often silent role, being, indeed, hardly missedwhen the pianoforte part is. Played alone. The pronounced bravuracharacter of the piece would warrant the supposition that it waswritten expressly for the concert-room, even if the orchestralaccompaniments were not there to prove the fact. A proud bearing, healthful vigour, and sprightly vivacity distinguish Chopin onthis occasion. But notwithstanding the brave appearance, onemisses his best qualities. This polonaise illustrates not onlythe most brilliant, but also the least lovable features of thePolish character--ostentatiousness and exaggerated rhetoric. Init Chopin is discovered posturing, dealing in phrases, andcoquetting with sentimental affectations. In short, the composercomes before us as a man of the world, intent on pleasing, andsure of himself and success. The general airiness of the style isa particularly-noticeable feature of this piece of Chopin'svirtuosic period. 

The first bars of the first (in C sharp minor) of the twoPolonaises, Op. 26 (published in July, 1836), fall upon one's earlike a decision of irresistible, inexorable fate. Indignationflares up for a moment, and then dies away, leaving behindsufficient strength only for a dull stupor (beginning of thesecond part), deprecation, melting tenderness (the E major in thesecond part, and the closing bars of the first and second parts), and declarations of devotion (meno mosso). While the firstpolonaise expresses weak timidity, sweet plaintiveness, and alooking for help from above, the second one (in E flat minor)speaks of physical force and self-reliance--it is full ofconspiracy and sedition. The ill-suppressed murmurs ofdiscontent, which may be compared to the ominous growls of avolcano, grow in loudness and intensity, till at last, with arush and a wild shriek, there follows an explosion. The thoughtsflutter hither and thither, in anxious, helpless agitation. Thenmartial sounds are heard--a secret gathering of a few, which soongrows in number and in boldness. Now they draw nearer; youdistinguish the clatter of spurs and weapons, the clang oftrumpets (D flat major). Revenge and death are their watchwords, and with sullen determination they stare desolation in the face(the pedal F with the trebled part above). After an interestingtransition the first section returns. In the meno mosso (B major)again a martial rhythm is heard; this time, however, thegathering is not one for revenge and death, but for battle andvictory. From the far-off distance the winds carry the messagethat tells of freedom and glory. But what is this (the four barsbefore the tempo I. )? Alas! the awakening from a dream. Once morewe hear those sombre sounds, the shriek and explosion, and so on. Of the two Polonaises, Op. 26, the second is the grander, and thedefiniteness which distinguishes it from the vague first showsitself also in the form. 

A greater contrast than the two Polonaises, Op. 40 (published inNovember, 1840), can hardly be imagined. In the first (in Amajor) the mind of the composer is fixed on one elating thought--he sees the gallantly-advancing chivalry of Poland, determinationin every look and gesture; he hears rising above the noise ofstamping horses and the clash of arms their bold challengescornfully hurled at the enemy. In the second (in C minor), onthe other hand, the mind of the composer turns from onedepressing or exasperating thought to another--he seems to reviewthe different aspects of his country's unhappy state, its sullendiscontent, fretful agitation, and uncertain hopes. The manlyPolonaise in A major, one of the simplest (not easiest)compositions of Chopin, is the most popular of his polonaises. The second polonaise, however, although not so often heard, isthe more interesting one, the emotional contents being morevaried, and engaging more our sympathy. Further, the pianoforte, however fully and effectively employed, cannot do justice to themartial music of the one, while its capacities are well suitedfor the rendering of the less material effect of the other. Inconclusion, let me point out in the C minor Polonaise the chafingagitation of the second part, the fitful play between light andshade of the trio-like part in A flat major, and the addedwailing voice in the recurring first portion at the end of thepiece. [FOOTNOTE: In connection with the A major Polonaise, seelast paragraph on next page. ]

If Schiller is right in saying "Ernst ist das Leben, heiter istdie Kunst, " then what we find in the Polonaise (in F sharpminor), Op. 44 (published in November, 1841), cannot be art. Welook in vain for beauty of melody and harmony; dreary unisons, querulous melodic phrases, hollow-eyed chords, hard progressionsand modulations throughout every part of the polonaise proper. Wereceive a pathological rather than aesthetical impression. Nevertheless, no one can deny the grandeur and originality thatshine through this gloom. The intervening Doppio movimento, tempodi Mazurka, sends forth soft beneficent rays--reminiscences oflong ago, vague and vanishing, sweet and melancholy. But there isan end to this as to all such dreams. Those harassing, exasperating gloomy thoughts (Tempo di Polacca) return. The sharpcorners which we round so pleasantly and beautifully in ourreconstructions of the past make themselves only too soon felt inthe things of the present, and cruelly waken us to reality andits miseries. 

The Polonaise, Op. 53 (in A flat major; published in December, 1843), is one of the most stirring compositions of Chopin, manifesting an overmastering power and consuming fire. But is itreally the same Chopin, is it the composer of the dreamynocturnes, the elegant waltzes, who here fumes and frets, struggling with a fierce, suffocating rage (mark the rushingsuccession of chords of the sixth, the growling semiquaverfigures, and the crashing dissonances of the sixteen introductorybars), and then shouts forth, sure of victory, his bold andscornful challenge? And farther on, in the part of the polonaisewhere the ostinato semiquaver figure in octaves for the left handbegins, do we not hear the trampling of horses, the clatter ofarms and spurs, and the sound of trumpets? Do we not hear--yea, and see too--a high-spirited chivalry approaching and passing?Only pianoforte giants can do justice to this martial tone-picture, the physical strength of the composer certainly did notsuffice. 

The story goes that when Chopin played one of his polonaises inthe night-time, just after finishing its composition, he saw thedoor open, and a long train of Polish knights and ladies, dressedin antique costumes, enter through it and defile past him. Thisvision filled the composer with such terror that he fled throughthe opposite door, and dared not return to the room the wholenight. Karasowski says that the polonaise in question is the last-mentioned one, in A flat major; but from M. Kwiatkowski, whodepicted the scene three times, [FOOTNOTE: "Le Reve de Chopin, " awater-colour, and two sketches in oils representing, according toChopin's indication (d'apres l'avis de Chopin), the polonaise. ]learned that it is the one in A major, No. 1 of Op. 40, dedicatedto Fontana. 

I know of no more affecting composition among all the productionsof Chopin than the "Polonaise-Fantaisie" (in A flat major), Op. 61 (published in September, 1846). What an unspeakable, unfathomable wretchedness reveals itself in these sounds! We gazeon a boundless desolation. These lamentations and cries ofdespair rend our heart, these strange, troubled wanderings fromthought to thought fill us with intensest pity. There arethoughts of sweet resignation, but the absence of hope makes themperhaps the saddest of all. The martial strains, the boldchallenges, the shouts of triumph, which we heard so often in thecomposer's polonaises, are silenced. 

 An elegiac sadness [says Liszt] predominates, intersected by wild movements, melancholy smiles, unexpected starts, and intervals of rest full of dread such as those experience who have been surprised by an ambuscade, who are surrounded on all sides, for whom there dawns no hope upon the vast horizon, and to whose brain despair has gone like a deep draught of Cyprian wine, which gives a more instinctive rapidity to every gesture, a sharper point to every emotion, causing the mind to arrive at a pitch of irritability bordering on madness. 

Thus, although comprising thoughts that in beauty and grandeurequal--I would almost say surpass-anything Chopin has written, the work stands, on account of its pathological contents, outsidethe sphere of art. 

Chopin's waltzes, the most popular of his compositions, are notpoesie intime like the greater number of his works. [FOOTNOTE:Op. 34, No. 2, and Op. 64, No. 2, however, have to be excepted, to some extent at least. ] In them the composer mixes with theworld-looks without him rather than within--and as a man of theworld conceals his sorrows and discontents under smiles andgraceful manners. The bright brilliancy and light pleasantness ofthe earlier years of his artistic career, which are almostentirely lost in the later years, rise to the surface in thewaltzes. These waltzes are salon music of the most aristocratickind. Schumann makes Florestan say of one of them, and he mighthave said it of all, that he would not play it unless one half ofthe female dancers were countesses. But the aristocraticalness ofChopin's waltzes is real, not conventional; their exquisitegracefulness and distinction are natural, not affected. They are, indeed, dance-poems whose content is the poetry of waltz-rhythmand movement, and the feelings these indicate and call forth. Inone of his most extravagantly-romantic critical productionsSchumann speaks, in connection with Chopin's Op. 18, "GrandeValse brillante, " the first-published (in June, 1834) of hiswaltzes, of "Chopin's body and mind elevating waltz, " and its"enveloping the dancer deeper and deeper in its floods. " Thislanguage is altogether out of proportion with the thing spokenof; for Op. 18 differs from the master's best waltzes in being, not a dance-poem, but simply a dance, although it must beadmitted that it is an exceedingly spirited one, both as regardspiquancy and dash. When, however, we come to Op. 34, "TroisValses brillantes" (published in December, 1838), Op. 42, "Valse"(published in July, 1840), and Op. 64, "Trois Valses" (publishedin September, 1847), the only other waltzes published by him, wefind ourselves face to face with true dance-poems. Let us tarryfor a moment over Op. 34. How brisk the introductory bars of thefirst (in A flat major) of these three waltzes! And what astriking manifestation of the spirit of that dance all thatfollows! We feel the wheeling motions; and where, at theseventeenth bar of the second part, the quaver figure enters, wethink we see the flowing dresses sweeping round. Again whatvigour in the third part, and how coaxingly tender the fourth!And, lastly, the brilliant conclusion--the quavers intertwinedwith triplets! The second waltz (in A minor; Lento) is of quiteanother, of a more retired and private, nature, an exception tothe rule. The composer evidently found pleasure in giving way tothis delicious languor, in indulging in these melancholy thoughtsfull of sweetest, tenderest loving and longing. But here wordswill not avail. One day when Stephen Heller--my informant--was atSchlesinger's music-shop in Paris, Chopin entered. The latter, hearing Heller ask for one of his waltzes, inquired of him whichof them he liked best. "It is difficult to say which I likebest, " replied Heller, "for I like them all; but if I werepressed for an answer I would probably say the one in A minor. "This gave Chopin much pleasure. "I am glad you do, " he said; "itis also my favourite. " And in an exuberance of amiability heinvited Heller to lunch with him, an invitation which wasaccepted, the two artists taking the meal together at the CafeRiche. The third waltz (in F major; Vivace) shows a charactervery different from the preceding one. What a stretching ofmuscles! What a whirling! Mark the giddy motions of the melodybeginning at bar seventeen! Of this waltz of Chopin's and thefirst it is more especially true what Schumann said of all three:"Such flooding life moves within these waltzes that they seem tohave been improvised in the ball-room. " And the words which thesame critic applies to Op. 34 may be applied to all the waltzesChopin published himself--"They must please; they are of anotherstamp than the usual waltzes, and in the style in which they canonly be conceived by Chopin when he looks in a grandly-artisticway into the dancing crowd, which he elevates by his playing, thinking of other things than of what is being danced. " In the Aflat major waltz which bears the opus number 42, the duple rhythmof the melody along with the triple one of the accompanimentseems to me indicative of the loving nestling and tenderembracing of the dancing couples. Then, after the smoothgyrations of the first period, come those sweeping motions, freeand graceful like those of birds, that intervene again and againbetween the different portions of the waltz. The D flat majorpart bubbles over with joyousness. In the sostenuto, on the otherhand, the composer becomes sentimental, protests, and heavessighs. But at the very height of his rising ardour he suddenlyplunges back into that wild, self-surrendering, heaven and earth-forgetting joyousness--a stroke of genius as delightful as it isclever. If we do not understand by the name of scherzo a fixedform, but rather a state of mind, we may say that Chopin'swaltzes are his scherzos and not the pieces to which he has giventhat name. None of Chopin's waltzes is more popular than thefirst of Op. 64 (in D flat major). And no wonder! The life, flow, and oneness are unique; the charm of the multiform motions isindescribable. That it has been and why it has been called valseau petit chien need here only be recalled to the reader'srecollection (see Chapter XXVI. , p. 142). No. 2 (in C sharpminor); different as it is, is in its own way nearly as perfectas No. 1. Tender, love-sick longing cannot be depicted moretruthfully, sweetly, and entrancingly. The excellent No. 3 (in Aflat major), with the exquisite serpentining melodic lines, whichplay so important a part in Chopin's waltzes, and other beautifuldetails, is in a somewhat trying position beside the other twowaltzes. The non-publication by the composer of the waltzes whichhave got into print, thanks to the zeal of his admirers and theavidity of publishers, proves to me that he was a good judge ofhis own works. Fontana included in his collection of posthumouscompositions five waltzes--"Deux Valses, " Op. 69 (in F minor, of1836; in B minor, of 1829);. And "Trois Valses, " Op. 70 (in Gflat major, of 1835; in F minor, of 1843; in D flat major, of1830). There are further a waltz in E minor and one in E major(of 1829). [FOOTNOTE: The "Deux Valses melancoliques" (in F minorand B minor), ecrits sur l'album de Madame la Comtesse P. , 1844(Cracow: J. Wildt), the English edition of which (London: EdwinAshdown) is entitled "Une soiree en 1844, " "Deux Valsesmelancoliques, " are Op. 70. No. 2, and Op. 69, No. 2, of theworks of Chopin posthumously published by Fontana. ] Some of thesewaltzes I discussed already when speaking of the master's earlycompositions, to which they belong. The last-mentioned waltz, which the reader will find in Mikuli's edition (No. 15 of thewaltzes), and also in Breitkopf and Hartel's (No. 22 of thePosthumous works), is a very weak composition; and of all thewaltzes not published by the composer himself it may be said thatwhat is good in them has been expressed better in others. 

We have of Chopin 27 studies: Op. 10, "Douze Etudes, " publishedin July, 1833; Op. 25, "Douze Etudes, " published in October, 1837; and "Trois nouvelles Etudes, " which, before beingseparately published, appeared in 1840 in the "Methode desMethodes pour le piano" by F. J. Fetis and I. Moscheles. Thedates of their publication, as in the case of many other works, do not indicate the approximate dates of their composition. Sowinski tells us, for instance, that Chopin brought the firstbook of his studies with him to Paris in 1831. A Polish musicianwho visited the French capital in 1834 heard Chopin play thestudies contained in Op. 25. And about the last-mentioned opus weread in a critical notice by Schumann, who had, no doubt, hisinformation directly from Chopin: "The studies which have nowappeared [that is, those of Op. 25] were almost all composed atthe same time as the others [that is, those of Op. 10] and onlysome of them, the greater masterliness of which is noticeable, such as the first, in A flat major, and the splendid one in Cminor [that is, the twelfth] but lately. " Regarding the Troisnouvelles Etudes without OPUS number we have no similartestimony. But internal evidence seems to show that these weakestof the master's studies--which, however, are by no meansuninteresting, and certainly very characteristic--may be regardedmore than Op. 25 as the outcome of a gleaning. In two of Chopin'sletters of the year 1829, we meet with announcements of hishaving composed studies. On the 2Oth of October he writes: "Ihave composed a study in my own manner"; and on the 14th ofNovember: "I have written some studies. " From Karasowski learnthat the master composed the twelfth study of Op. 10 during hisstay in Stuttgart, being inspired by the capture of Warsaw by theRussians, which took place on September 8, 1831. Whether lookedat from the aesthetical or technical point of view, Chopin'sstudies will be seen to be second to those of no composer. Wereit not wrong to speak of anything as absolutely best, theirexcellences would induce one to call them unequalled. A strikingfeature in them compared with Chopin's other works is theirhealthy freshness and vigour. Even the slow, dreamy, and elegiacones have none of the faintness and sickliness to be found in nota few of the composer's pieces, especially in several of thenocturnes. The diversity of character exhibited by these studiesis very great. In some of them the aesthetical, in others thetechnical purpose predominates; in a few the two are evenlybalanced: in none is either of them absent. They give a summaryof Chopin's ways and means, of his pianoforte language: chords inextended positions, wide-spread arpeggios, chromatic progressions(simple, in thirds, and in octaves), simultaneous combinations ofcontrasting rhythms, &c--nothing is wanting. In playing them orhearing them played Chopin's words cannot fail to recur to one'smind: "I have composed a study in my own manner. " Indeed, thecomposer's demands on the technique of the executant were sonovel at the time when the studies made their first publicappearance that one does not wonder at poor blind Rellstab beingstaggered, and venting his feelings in the following uncouthly-jocular manner: "Those who have distorted fingers may put themright by practising these studies; but those who have not, shouldnot play them, at least not without having a surgeon at hand. " InOp. 10 there are three studies especially noteworthy for theirmusical beauty. The third (Lento ma non troppo, in E major) andthe sixth (Andante, in E flat minor) may be reckoned amongChopin's loveliest compositions. They combine classicalchasteness of contour with the fragrance of romanticism. And thetwelfth study (Allegro con fuoco, in C minor), the one composedat Stuttgart after the fall of Warsaw, how superbly grand! Thecomposer seems to be fuming with rage: the left hand rushesimpetuously along and the right hand strikes in with passionateejaculations. With regard to the above-named Lento ma non troppo(Op. 10, No. 3), Chopin said to Gutmann that he had never in hislife written another such beautiful melody (CHANT); and on oneoccasion when Gutmann was studying it the master lifted up hisarms with his hands clasped and exclaimed: "O, my fatherland!"("O, me patrie!") I share with Schumann the opinion that thetotal weight of Op. 10 amounts to more than that of Op. 25. Likehim I regard also Nos. 1 and 12 as the most important items ofthe latter collection of studies: No. 1 (Allegro sostenuto, in Aflat major)--a tremulous mist below, a beautiful breezy melodyfloating above, and once or twice a more opaque body becomingdiscernible within the vaporous element--of which Schumann saysthat "after listening to the study one feels as one does after ablissful vision, seen in a dream, which, already half-awake, onewould fain bring back": [FOOTNOTE: See the whole quotation, Vol. I. , p. 310. ] and No. 12 (in C minor, Allegro molto con fuoco), inwhich the emotions rise not less than the waves of arpeggios (inboth hands) which symbolise them. Stephen Heller's likings differfrom Schumann's. Discussing Chopin's Op. 25 in the Gazettemusicale of February 24, 1839, he says:--

 What more do we require to pass one or several evenings in as perfect a happiness as possible? As for me, I seek in this collection of poesy (this is the only name appropriate to the works of Chopin) some favourite pieces which I might fix in my memory rather than others. Who could retain everything? For this reason I have in my note book quite particularly marked the numbers 4, 5, and 7 of the present poems. Of these twelve much-loved studies (every one of which has a charm of its own) these three numbers are those I prefer to all the rest. 

In connection with the fourth, Heller points out that it remindshim of the first bar of the Kyrie (rather the Requiem aeternam)of Mozart's Requiem. And of the seventh study he remarks:--

 It engenders the sweetest sadness, the most enviable torments; and if in playing it one feels one's self insensibly drawn towards mournful and melancholy ideas, it is a disposition of the soul which I prefer to all others. Alas! how I love these sombre and mysterious dreams, and Chopin is the god who creates them. 

This No. 7 (in C sharp minor, lento), a duet between a HE and aSHE, of whom the former shows himself more talkative and emphaticthan the latter, is, indeed, very sweet, but perhaps, alsosomewhat tiresomely monotonous, as such tete-a-tete naturally areto third parties. As a contrast to No. 7, and in conclusion--leaving several aerial flights and other charming conceptionsundiscussed--I will yet mention the octave study, No. 10, whichis a real pandemonium; for a while holier sounds intervene, butfinally hell prevails. 

The genesis of the Vingt-quatre Preludes, Op. 28, published inSeptember, 1839, I have tried to elucidate in the twenty-firstchapter. I need, therefore, not discuss the question here. Theindefinite character and form of the prelude, no doubt, determined the choice of the title which, however, does notdescribe the contents of this OPUS. Indeed, no ONE name could doso. This heterogeneous collection of pieces reminds me of nothingso much as of an artist's portfolio filled with drawings in allstages of advancement--finished and unfinished, complete andincomplete compositions, sketches and mere memoranda, all mixedindiscriminately together. The finished works were either toosmall or too slight to be sent into the world separately, and theright mood for developing, completing, and giving the last touchto the rest was gone, and could not be found again. Schumann, after expressing his admiration for these preludes, as well hemight, adds: "This book contains morbid, feverish, and repellentmatter. " I do not think that there is much that could justly becalled repellent; but the morbidity and feverishness of aconsiderable portion must be admitted. 

 I described the preludes [writes Schumann] as remarkable. To confess the truth, I expected they would be executed like the studies, in the grandest style. Almost the reverse is the case; they are sketches, commencements of studies, or, if you will, ruins, single eagle-wings, all strangely mixed together. But in his fine nonpareil there stands in every piece:-- "Frederick Chopin wrote it. " One recognises him by the violent breathing during the rests. He is, and remains, the proudest poet-mind of the time. 

The almost infinite and infinitely-varied beauties collected inthis treasure-trove denominated Vingt-quatre Preludes could onlybe done justice to by a minute analysis, for which, however, there is no room here. I must content myself with a word or twoabout a few of them, picked out at random. No. 4 is a little poemthe exquisitely-sweet languid pensiveness of which defiesdescription. The composer seems to be absorbed in the narrowsphere of his ego, from which the wide, noisy world is for thetime being shut out. In No. 6 we have, no doubt, the one of whichGeorge Sand said that it occurred to Chopin one evening whilerain was falling, and that it "precipitates the soul into afrightful depression. "30 [FOOTNOTE: See George Sand's account anddescription in Chapter XXI. , p. 43. ] How wonderfully thecontending rhythms of the accompaniment, and the fitful, jerkycourse of the melody, depict in No. 8 a state of anxiety andagitation! The premature conclusion of that bright vivaciousthing No. 11 fills one with regret. Of the beautifully-melodiousNo. 13, the piu lento and the peculiar closing bars areespecially noteworthy. No. 14 invites a comparison with thefinale of the B flat minor Sonata. In the middle section (in Csharp minor) of the following number (in D flat major), one ofthe larger pieces, rises before one's mind the cloistered courtof the monastery of Valdemosa, and a procession of monks chantinglugubrious prayers, and carrying in the dark hours of night theirdeparted brother to his last resting-place. It reminds one of thewords of George Sand, that the monastery was to Chopin full ofterrors and phantoms. This C sharp minor portion of No. 15affects one like an oppressive dream; the re-entrance of theopening D flat major, which dispels the dreadful nightmare, comesupon one with the smiling freshness of dear, familiar nature--only after these horrors of the imagination can its serene beautybe fully appreciated. No. 17, another developed piece, strikesone as akin to Mendelssohn's Songs without Words. I must not omitto mention No. 21, one of the finest of the collection, with itscalming cantilena and palpitating quaver figure. Besides the setof twenty-four preludes, Op. 28, Chopin published a single one, Op. 45, which appeared in December, 1841. This compositiondeserves its name better than almost anyone of the twenty-four;still, I would rather call it an improvisata. It seemsunpremeditated, a heedless outpouring when sitting at the pianoin a lonely, dreary hour, perhaps in the twilight. The quaverfigure rises aspiringly, and the sustained parts swell outproudly. The piquant cadenza forestalls in the progression ofdiminished chords favourite effects of some of our more moderncomposers. The modulation from C sharp minor to D major and backagain (after the cadenza) is very striking and equally beautiful. 

It can hardly be said, although Liszt seemed to be of a differentopinion, that Chopin created a new type by his preludes--they aretoo unlike each other in form and character. On the other hand, he has done so by his four scherzos--Op. 20 (in B minor), published in February, 1835; Op. 31 (B flat minor), published inDecember, 1837; Op. 39 (C sharp minor), published in October, 1840; and Op. 54 (in E major), published in December, 1843. "Howis 'gravity' to clothe itself, if 'jest' goes about in darkveils?" exclaims Schumann. No doubt, scherzo, if we consider theoriginal meaning of the word, is a misnomer. But are notBeethoven's scherzos, too, misnamed? To a certain extent theyare. But if Beethoven's scherzos often lack frolicsomeness, theyare endowed with humour, whereas Chopin's have neither the onenor the other. Were it not that we attach, especially sinceMendelssohn's time, the idea of lightness and light-heartednessto the word capriccio, this would certainly be the moredescriptive name for the things Chopin entitled SCHERZO. But whatis the use of carping at a name? Let us rather look at thethings, and thus employ our time better. Did ever composer beginlike Chopin in his Premier Scherzo, Op. 20? Is this not like ashriek of despair? and what follows, bewildered efforts of a soulshut in by a wall of circumstances through which it strives invain to break? at last sinking down with fatigue, dreaming adream of idyllic beauty? but beginning the struggle again as soonas its strength is recruited? Schumann compared the secondSCHERZO, Op. 31, to a poem of Byron's, "so tender, so bold, asfull of love as of scorn. " Indeed, scorn--an element which doesnot belong to what is generally understood by eitherfrolicsomeness or humour--plays an important part in Chopin'sscherzos. The very beginning of Op. 31 offers an example. 

[FOOTNOTE: "It must be a question [the doubled triplet figure A, B flat, d flat, in the first bar], taught Chopin, and for him itwas never question enough, never piano enough, never vaulted(tombe) enough, as he said, never important enough. It must be acharnel-house, he said on one occasion. " (W. Von Lenz, in Vol. XXVI. Of the Berliner Musikzeitung. )]

And then, we do not meet with a phrase of a more cheerful naturewhich is not clouded by sadness. Weber--I mention his nameintentionally--would, for instance, in the D flat major portionhave concluded the melodic phrase in diatonic progression andleft the harmony pure. Now see what Chopin does. The con animahas this mark of melancholy still more distinctly impressed uponit. After the repetition of the capricious, impulsively-passionate first section (in B flat minor and D flat major)follows the delicious second, the expression of which is asindescribable as that of Leonardo da Vinci's "La Gioconda. " It isa pondering and wondering full of longing. In the deep, tenderyearning, with the urging undercurrent of feeling, of the C sharpminor portion, the vague dreaming of the preceding portion of thesection grows into wakefulness, and the fitful imagination isconcentrated on one object. Without continuing the emotional orentering on a formal analysis of this scherzo, I venture to saythat it is a very important composition, richer and more variedin emotional incidents than the other works of Chopin which bearthe same name. More than to any one of the master's scherzos, thename capriccio would be suitable to his third "Scherzo, " Op. 39, with its capricious starts and changes, its rudderless drifting. Peevishness, a fierce scornfulness, and a fretful agitation, maybe heard in these sounds, of jest and humour there is nothingperceptible. At any rate, the curled lip, as it were, contradictsthe jesting words, and the careless exterior does not altogetherconceal the seething rage within. But with the meno mosso (D flatmajor) come pleasanter thoughts. The hymn-like snatches ofsustained melody with the intervening airy interludes are verylovely. These are the principal features, to describe all thewhims is of course impossible. You may call this work anextravaganza, and point out its grotesqueness; but you must admitthat only by this erratic character of the form and thesespasmodic movements, could be expressed the peculiar restiveness, fitfulness, and waywardness of thought and feeling thatcharacterise Chopin's individuality. To these unclassicalqualities--for classical art is above all plastic and self-possessed--combined as they are with a high degree of refinementand delicacy, his compositions owe much of their peculiar charm. The absence of scorn distinguishes the fourth "Scherzo, " Op. 54, from the other three; but, like them, although less closelywrapped, it wears dark veils. The tripping fairy steps which wefind in bars 17-20 and in other places are a new feature inChopin. As to the comparative value of the work, it seems to meinferior to its brothers. The first section is too fragmentary togive altogether satisfaction. One is hustled from one phrase toanother, and they are as unlike each other as can well beimagined. The beauty of many of the details, however, must beacknowledged; indeed, the harmonic finesses, the melodic cunning, and rhythmical piquancy, are too potent to be ignored. Theresting-place and redeeming part of this scherzo is the sweetly-melodious second section, with its long, smooth, gently andbeautifully-curved lines. Also the return to the repetition ofthe first section is very interesting. This scherzo has theappearance of being laboured, painfully hammered and weldedtogether. But as the poet is born, not made-which "being born" isnot brought about without travail, nor makes the less desirable acareful bringing-up--so also does a work of art owe what is bestin it to a propitious concurrence of circumstances in the natalhour. 

The contents of Chopin's impromptus are of a more pleasing naturethan those of the scherzos. Like the latter they are wayward, buttheirs is a charming, lovable waywardness. The composer's threefirst impromptus were published during his lifetime: Op. 29 inDecember, 1837; Op. 36 in May, 1840; and Op. 51 in February, 1843. The fourth impromptu ("Fantaisie-Impromptu"), Op. 66, is aposthumous publication. What name has been more misapplied thanthat of impromptu? Again and again we meet with works thuschristened which bear upon them the distinct marks of painfuleffort and anxious filing, which maybe said to smell of the mid-night lamp, and to be dripping with the hard-working artificer'ssweat. How Chopin produced the "Impromptu, " Op. 29 (in A flatmajor), I do not know. Although an admired improviser, theprocess of composition was to him neither easy nor quick. But bethis as it may, this impromptu has quite the air of aspontaneous, unconstrained outpouring. The first section with itstriplets bubbles forth and sparkles like a fountain on which thesunbeams that steal through the interstices of the overhangingfoliage are playing. The F minor section is sung out clearly andheartily, with graces beautiful as nature's. The song over, ourattention is again attracted by the harmonious murmuring and thechanging lights of the water. The "Deuxieme Impromptu, " Op. 36(in F sharp major), is, like the first, a true impromptu, butwhile the first is a fresh and lusty welling forth of joy amidstthe pleasures of a present reality, this is a dreamy lingeringover thoughts and scenes of the imagination that appear andvanish like dissolving views. One would wish to have a programmeof this piece. Without such assistance the D major section of theimpromptu is insignificant. We want to see, or at least to know, who the persons that walk in the procession which the musicaccompanies are. Some bars in the second half of this sectionremind one of Schumann's "Fantasia" in C. After this section acurious transition leads in again the theme, which first appearedin F sharp major, in F major, and with a triplet accompaniment. When F sharp major is once more reached, the theme is stillfurther varied (melodically), till at last the wondrous, fairy-like phrase from the first section brings the piece to aconclusion. This impromptu is inferior to the first, having lesspith in it; but its tender sweetness and euphony cannot bedenied. The idle forgetfulness of the more serious duties and thedeep miseries of life in the enjoyment of a dolce far nienterecalls Schubert and the "Fantasia, " Op. 78, and other works ofhis. In the "Troisieme Impromptu" (in G flat major), Op. 51, therhythmical motion and the melodical form of the two parts thatserpentine their lines in opposite directions remind one of thefirst impromptu (in A flat), but the characters of these piecesare otherwise very unlike. The earlier work is distinguished by abrisk freshness; the later one by a feverish restlessness andfaint plaintiveness. After the irresolute flutter of the relaxingand enervating chromatic progressions and successions of thirdsand sixths, the greater steadiness of the middle section, moreespecially the subdued strength and passionate eloquence at the Dflat major, has a good effect. But here, too, the languid, lamenting chromatic passing and auxiliary notes are not wanting, and the anxious, breathless accompaniment does not make thingsmore cheerful. In short, the piece is very fine in its way, butthe unrelieved, or at least very insufficiently relieved, morbidezza is anything but healthy. We may take note of the plainchord progressions which intervene in the first and last sectionsof the impromptu; such progressions are of frequent occurrence inChopin's works. Is there not something pleonastic in the title"Fantaisie-Impromptu?" Whether the reader may think so or not, hewill agree with me that the fourth impromptu (in C sharp minor), Op. 66, is the most valuable of the compositions published byFontana; indeed, it has become one of the favourites of thepianoforte-playing world. Spontaneity of emotional expression andeffective treatment of the pianoforte distinguish the Fantaisie-Impromptu. In the first section we have the restless, surging, gushing semiquavers, carrying along with them a passionate, urging melody, and the simultaneous waving triplet accompaniment;in the second section, where the motion of the accompaniment ison the whole preserved, the sonorous, expressive cantilena in Dflat major; the third section repeats the first, which itsupplements with a coda containing a reminiscence of thecantilena of the second section, which calms the agitation of thesemiquavers. According to Fontana, Chopin composed this pieceabout 1834. Why did he keep it in his portfolio? I suspect hemissed in it, more especially in the middle section, that degreeof distinction and perfection of detail which alone satisfied hisfastidious taste. 

Among Chopin's nocturnes some of his most popular works are to befound. Nay, the most widely-prevailing idea of his character as aman and musician seems to have been derived from them. But theidea thus formed is an erroneous one; these dulcet, effeminatecompositions illustrate only one side of the master's character, and by no means the best or most interesting. Notwithstandingsuch precious pearls as the two Nocturnes, Op. 37, and a fewothers, Chopin shows himself greater both as a man and a musicianin every other class of pieces he has originated and cultivated, more especially in his polonaises, ballades, and studies. That, however, there is much to be admired in the class now underconsideration will be seen from the following brief comments onthe eighteen nocturnes (leaving out of account the one of theyear 1828 published by Fontana as Op. 72, No. 1, and alreadydiscussed in an earlier chapter) which Chopin gave to the world--Op. 9, Trois Nocturnes, in January, 1833; Op. 15, TroisNocturnes, in January, 1834; Op. 27, Deux Nocturnes, in May, 1836; Op. 32, Deux Nocturnes, December, 1837; Op. 37, DeuxNocturnes, in May, 1840; Op. 48, Deux Nocturnes, in November, 1841; Op. 55, Deux Nocturnes, in August, 1844; and Op. 62, DeuxNocturnes, in September, 1846. Rellstab remarked in 1833 of theTrois Nocturnes, Op. 9, that Chopin, without borrowing directlyfrom Field, copied the latter's melody and manner ofaccompaniment. There is some truth in this; only the word "copy"is not the correct one. The younger received from the elderartist the first impulse to write in this form, and naturallyadopted also something of his manner. On the whole, thesimilitude is rather generic than specific. Even the contents ofOp. 9 give Chopin a just claim to originality; and the Fieldreminiscences which are noticeable in Nos. 1 and 2 (moststrikingly in the commencement of No. 2) of the first set ofnocturnes will be looked for in vain in the subsequent ones. 

 Where Field smiles [said the above-mentioned critic], Chopin makes a grinning grimace; where Field sighs, Chopin groans; where Field shrugs his shoulders, Chopin twists his whole body; where Field puts some seasoning into the food, Chopin empties a handful of Cayenne pepper. .. In short, if one holds Field's charming romances before a distorting concave mirror, so that every delicate expression becomes a coarse one, one gets Chopin's work. .. We implore Mr. Chopin to return to nature. 

Now, what remains of this statement after subtracting prejudicesand narrow-mindedness? Nothing but that Chopin is more varied andpassionate than Field, and has developed to the utmost some ofthe means of expression used by the latter. No. 1 (in B flatminor) of Op. 9 is pervaded by a voluptuous dreaminess andcloying sweetness: it suggests twilight, the stillness of night, and thoughts engendered thereby. The tone of sentiment and thephraseology of No. 2 (in E fiat major) have been made so commonby fashionable salon composers that one cannot help suspectingthat it is not quite a natural tone--not a tone of true feeling, but of sentimentality. The vulgar do not imitate the true andnoble, but the false and ostentatious. In this piece one breathesdrawing-room air, and ostentation of sentiment and affectation ofspeech are native to that place. What, however, the imitationsoften lack is present in every tone and motion of the original:eloquence, grace, and genuine refinement. 

[FOOTNOTE: Gutmann played the return of the principal subject ina way very different from that in which it is printed, with agreat deal of ornamentation, and said that Chopin played italways in that way. Also the cadence at the end of the nocturne(Op. 9, No. 2) had a different form. But the composer veryfrequently altered the ornamentions of his pieces or excogitatedalternative readings. ]

The third is, like the preceding nocturne, exquisite salon music. Little is said, but that little very prettily. Although theatmosphere is close, impregnated with musk and other perfumes, there is here no affectation. The concluding cadenza, thattwirling line, reads plainly "Frederic Chopin. " Op. 15 shows ahigher degree of independence and poetic power than Op. 9. Thethird (in G minor) of these nocturnes is the finest of the three. The words languido e rubato describe well the waveringpensiveness of the first portion of the nocturne, which finds itsexpression in the indecision of the melodic progressions, harmonies, and modulations. The second section is markedreligiose, and may be characterised as a trustful prayer, conducive to calm and comfort. The Nocturnes in F major and Fsharp major, Op. 15, are more passionate than the one we just nowconsidered, at least in the middle sections. The serene, tenderAndante in F major, always sweet, and here and there with touchesof delicate playfulness, is interrupted by thoughts of impetuousdefiance, which give way to sobs and sighs, start up again withequal violence, and at last die away into the first sweet, tenderserenity. The contrast between the languid dreaming and the fieryupstarting is striking and effective, and the practical musician, as well as the student of aesthetics, will do well to examine bywhat means these various effects are produced. In the secondnocturne, F sharp major, the brightness and warmth of the worldwithout have penetrated into the world within. The fioriture flitabout as lightly as gossamer threads. The sweetly-sad longing ofthe first section becomes more disquieting in the doppiomovimento, but the beneficial influence of the sun never quiteloses its power, and after a little there is a relapse into thecalmer mood, with a close like a hazy distance on a summer day. The second (in D flat major) of Op. 27 was, no doubt, conceivedin a more auspicious moment than the first (in C sharp minor), ofwhich the extravagantly wide-meshed netting of the accompanimentis the most noteworthy feature. [FOOTNOTE: In most of the pieceswhere, as in this one, the left-hand accompaniment consists of anundulating figure, Chopin wished it to be played very soft andsubdued. This is what Gutmann said. ] As to the one in D flat, nothing can equal the finish and delicacy of execution, the flowof gentle feeling, lightly rippled by melancholy, and spreadingout here and there in smooth expansiveness. But all thissweetness enervates; there is poison in it. We should not drinkin these thirds, sixths, &c. , without taking an antidote of Bachor Beethoven. Both the nocturnes of Op. 32 are pretty specimensof Chopin's style of writing in the tender, calm, and dreamymoods. Of the two (in B major and A flat major) I prefer thequiet, pellucid first one. It is very simple, ornaments beingvery sparingly introduced. The quietness and simplicity are, however, at last disturbed by an interrupted cadence, sombresounds as of a kettle-drum, and a passionate recitative withintervening abrupt chords. The second nocturne has lessoriginality and pith. Deux Nocturnes (in G minor and G major), Op. 37, are two of the finest, I am inclined to say, the twofinest, of this class of Chopin's pieces; but they are ofcontrasting natures. The first and last sections of the one in Gminor are plaintive and longing, and have a wailingaccompaniment; the chord progressions of the middle section glidealong hymn-like. [FOOTNOTE: Gutmann played this section quickerthan the rest, and said that Chopin forgot to mark the change ofmovement. ] Were it possible to praise one part more emphaticallythan another without committing an injustice, I would speak ofthe melodic exquisiteness of the first motive. But already I seeother parts rise reproachfully before my repentant conscience. Abeautiful sensuousness distinguishes the nocturne in G major: itis luscious, soft, rounded, and not without a certain degree oflanguor. The successions of thirds and, sixths, the semitoneprogressions, the rocking motion, the modulations (noteespecially those of the first section and the transition fromthat to the second), all tend to express the essential character. The second section in C major reappears in E major, after arepetition of part of the first section; a few bars of the latterand a reminiscence of the former conclude the nocturne. But letus not tarry too long in the treacherous atmosphere of this Capua--it bewitches and unmans. The two nocturnes (in C minor and Fsharp minor) which form Op. 48 are not of the number of thosethat occupy foremost places among their companions. Still, theyneed not be despised. The melody of the C minor portion of thefirst is very expressive, and the second has in the C sharp minorportion the peculiar Chopinesque flebile dolcezza. In playingthese nocturnes there occurred to me a remark of Schumann's, madewhen he reviewed some nocturnes by Count Wielhorski. He said, onthat occasion, that the quicker middle movements which Chopinfrequently introduces into his nocturnes are often weaker thanhis first conceptions, meaning the first portions of thenocturnes. Now, although the middle parts in the presentinstances are, on the contrary, slower movements, yet thejudgment holds good; at least, with respect to the firstnocturne, the middle part of which has nothing to recommend itbut the effective use of a full and sonorous instrumentation, ifI may use this word in speaking of one instrument. The middlepart of the second (f, D flat, Molto piu lento), however, is muchfiner; in it we meet again, as we did in some other nocturnes, with soothing, simple chord progressions. When Gutmann studiedthe C sharp minor nocturne with Chopin, the master told him thatthe middle section (the Molto piu lento, in D flat major) shouldbe played as a recitative: "A tyrant commands" (the first twochords), he said, "and the other asks for mercy. " Regarding thefirst nocturne (in F minor) of Op. 55, we will note only theflebile dolcezza of the first and the last section, and theinferiority of the more impassioned middle section. The secondnocturne (in E flat major) differs in form from the othernocturnes in this, that it has no contrasting second section, themelody flowing onward from begining to end in a uniform manner. The monotony of the unrelieved sentimentality does not fail tomake itself felt. One is seized by an ever-increasing longing toget out of this oppressive atmosphere, to feel the fresh breezesand warm sunshine, to see smiling faces and the many-coloureddress of Nature, to hear the rustling of leaves, the murmuring ofstreams, and voices which have not yet lost the clear, sonorousring that joy in the present and hope in the future impart. Thetwo nocturnes, Op. 62, seem to owe their existence rather to thesweet habit of activity than to inspiration. At any rate, thetender flutings, trills, roulades, syncopations, &c. , of thefirst nocturne (in B major), and the sentimental declarations andconfused, monotonous agitation of the second (in E major), do notinterest me sufficiently to induce me to discuss their merits anddemerits. 

One day Tausig, the great pianoforte-virtuoso, promised W. VonLenz to play him Chopin's "Barcarolle, " Op. 60 (published inSeptember, 1846), adding, "That is a performance which must notbe undertaken before more than two persons. I shall play you myown self (meinen Menschen). I love the piece, but take it up onlyrarely. " Lenz, who did not know the barcarolle, thereupon went toa music-shop and read it through attentively. The piece, however, did not please him at all; it seemed to him a long movement inthe nocturne-style, a Babel of figuration on a lightly-laidfoundation. But he found that he had made a mistake, and, afterhearing it played by Tausig, confessed that the virtuoso hadinfused into the "nine pages of enervating music, of one and thesame long-breathed rhythm (12/8), so much interest, so muchmotion, and so much action, " that he regretted the long piece wasnot longer. And now let us hear what remarks Tausig made withregard to the barcarolle:--

 There are two persons concerned in the affair; it is a love- scene in a discrete gondola; let us say this mise en scene is the symbol of a lovers' meeting generally. This is expressed in the thirds and sixths; the dualism of two notes (persons) is maintained throughout; all is two-voiced, two-souled. In this modulation here in C sharp major (superscribed dolce sfogato), there are kiss and embrace! This is evident! When, after three bars of introduction, the theme, lightly rocking in the bass solo, enters in the fourth, this theme is nevertheless made use of throughout the whole fabric only as an accompaniment, and on this the cantilena in two parts is laid; we have thus a continuous, tender dialogue. 

Both Lenz's first and last impressions were correct. The form ofthe barcarolle is that of most of Chopin's nocturnes--consistingof three sections, of which the third is a modified repetition ofthe first--only everything is on a larger scale, and more workedout. Unfortunately, the contrast of the middle section is notgreat enough to prevent the length, in spite of the excellence ofthe contents, from being felt. Thus we must also subscribe to the"nine pages of enervating music. " Still, the barcarolle is one ofthe most important of Chopin's compositions in the nocturne-style. It has distinctive features which decidedly justify andmake valuable its existence. Local colouring is not wanting. Thefirst section reminded me of Schumann's saying that Chopin in hismelodies leans sometimes over Germany towards Italy. If properlytold, this love-laden romance cannot fail to produce effect. 

Of the pieces that bear the name "Berceuse, " Chopin's Op. 57(published in June, 1845) is the finest, or at least one of thefinest and happiest conceptions. It rests on the harmonic basisof tonic and dominant. The triad of the tonic and the chord ofthe dominant seventh divide every bar between them in a brotherlymanner. Only in the twelfth and thirteenth bars from the end (thewhole piece contains seventy) the triad of the subdominant comesforward, and gives a little breathing time to the triad of thetonic, the chord of the dominant having already dropped off. Well, on this basis Chopin builds, or let us rather say, on thisrocking harmonic fluid he sets afloat a charming melody, which issoon joined by a self-willed second part. Afterwards, this melodyis dissolved into all kinds of fioriture, colorature, and othertrickeries, and they are of such fineness, subtlety, loveliness, and gracefulness, that one is reminded of Queen Mab, who comes--

 In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman. Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces of the smallest spider's web; The collars of the moonshine's watery beams; Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film; Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat. 

[FOOTNOTE: Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, I. , iv. , 59-68]

But who does not know the delightful description of the fairy inher hazel-nut coach, and the amusing story of her frolics andpranks? By-and-by the nimble motions of the colorature becomeslower, and finally glide into the original form of the melody, which, however, already after the third bar comes to a stand-still, is resumed for a short phrase, then expires, after a long-drawn chord of the dominant seventh, on the chord of the tonic, and all is rest and silence. Alexandre Dumas fils speaks in the"Affaire Clemenceau" of the "Berceuse" as--

 this muted music [musique en sourdine] which penetrated little by little the atmosphere and enveloped us in one and the same sensation, comparable perhaps to that which follows a Turkish bath, when all the senses are confounded in a general apaisement, when the body, harmoniously broken, has no longer any other wish than rest, and when, the soul, seeing all the doors of its prison open, goes wherever it lists, but always towards the Blue, into the dream-land. 

None of Chopin's compositions surpass in masterliness of form andbeauty and poetry of contents his ballades. In them he attains, Ithink, the acme of his power as an artist. It is much to beregretted that they are only four in number--Op. 23, published inJune, 1836; Op. 38, in September, 1840; Op. 47, in November, 1841; and Op 52, in December, 1843. When Schumann reviewed thesecond ballade he wrote: "Chopin has already written a pieceunder the same title, one of his wildest and most individualcompositions. " Schumann relates also that the poems of Mickiewiczincited Chopin to write his ballades, which information he gotfrom the Polish composer himself. He adds significantly: "A poet, again, might easily write words to them [Chopin's ballades]. Theymove the innermost depth of the soul. " Indeed, the "Ballade" (inG minor), Op. 23, is all over quivering with intensest feeling, full of sighs, sobs, groans, and passionate ebullitions. Theseven introductory bars (Lento) begin firm, ponderous, and loud, but gradually become looser, lighter, and softer, terminatingwith a dissonant chord, which some editors have thought fit tocorrect. [FOOTNOTE: For the correctness of the suspected note wehave the testimony of pupils--Gutmann, Mikuli, &c. ] Yet thisdissonant E flat may be said to be the emotional key-note of thewhole poem. It is a questioning thought that, like a sudden pain, shoots through mind and body. And now the story-teller begins hissimple but pathetic tale, heaving every now and then a sigh. After the ritenuto the matter becomes more affecting; the sighsand groans, yet for a while kept under restraint, grow louderwith the increasing agitation, till at last the whole being ismoved to its very depths. On the uproar of the passions follows adelicious calm that descends like a heavenly vision (meno mosso, E flat major). But this does not last, and before long therecomes, in the train of the first theme, an outburst of passionwith mighty upheavings and fearful lulls that presage neweruptions. Thus the ballade rises and falls on the sea of passiontill a mad, reckless rush (presto con fuoco) brings it to aconclusion. Schumann tells us a rather interesting fact in hisnotice of the "Deuxieme Ballade" (in F major), Op. 38. He heardChopin play it in Leipzig before its publication, and at thattime the passionate middle parts did not exist, and the piececlosed in F major, now it closes in A minor. Schumann's opinionof this ballade is, that as a work of art it stands below thefirst, yet is not less fantastic and geistreich. If two suchwholly dissimilar things can be compared and weighed in thisfashion, Schumann is very likely right; but I rather think theycannot. The second ballade possesses beauties in no way inferiorto those of the first. What can be finer than the simple strainsof the opening section! They sound as if they had been drawn fromthe people's storehouse of song. The entrance of the prestosurprises, and seems out of keeping with what precedes; but whatwe hear after the return of the tempo primo--the development ofthose simple strains, or rather the cogitations on them--justifies the presence of the presto. The second appearance ofthe latter leads to an urging, restless coda in A minor, whichcloses in the same key and pianissimo with a few bars of thesimple, serene, now veiled, first strain. The "Troisieme Ballade"(in A flat major), Op. 47, does not equal its sisters inemotional intensity, at any rate, not in emotionaltumultuousness. On this occasion the composer shows himself in afundamentally caressing mood. But the fine gradations, theiridescence of feeling, mocks at verbal definition. Insinuationand persuasion cannot be more irresistible, grace and affectionmore seductive. Over everything in melody, harmony, and rhythm, there is suffused a most exquisite elegance. A quiver ofexcitement runs through the whole piece. The syncopations, reversions of accent, silences on accented parts of the bar(sighs and suspended respiration, felicitously expressed), whichoccur very frequently in this ballade, give much charm andpiquancy to it. As an example, I may mention the bewitchingsubject in F major of the second section. The appearances of thissubject in different keys and in a new guise are also veryeffective. Indeed, one cannot but be struck with wonder at theease, refinement, and success with which Chopin handles here theform, while in almost every work in the larger forms we find himfloundering lamentably. It would be foolish and presumptuous topronounce this or that one of the ballades the finest; but onemay safely say that the fourth (in F minor), Op. 52, is fullyworthy of her sisters. The emotional key-note of the piece islonging sadness, and this key-note is well preserved throughout;there are no long or distant excursions from it. The variationsof the principal subject are more emphatic restatements of it:the first is more impressive than the original, the second moreeloquently beseeching than either of them. I resist, though withdifficulty, the temptation to point out in detail the interestingcourse of the composer's thoughts, and proceed at once to thecoda which, palpitating and swelling with passion, concludes thefourth and, alas! last ballade. 

We have now passed in review not only all the compositions publishedby Chopin himself, but also a number of those published without hisauthorisation. The publications not brought about by the masterhimself were without exception indiscretions; most of them, nodoubt, well meant, but nevertheless regrettable. Whatever Fontanasays to the contrary in the preface to his collection of Chopin'sposthumous works, [FOOTNOTE: The Chopin compositions published byFontana (in 1855) comprise the Op. 66- 74; the reader will see themenumerated in detail in the list of cur composer's works at the endof this volume. ] the composer unequivocally expressed the wish thathis manuscripts should not be published. Indeed, no one acquaintedwith the artistic character of the master, and the nature of theworks published by himself, could for a moment imagine that thelatter would at any time or in any circumstances have given hisconsent to the publication of insignificant and imperfectcompositions such as most of those presented to the world by hisill-advised friend are. Still, besides the "Fantaisie-Impromptu, "which one would not like to have lost, and one or two mazurkas, which cannot but be prized, though perhaps less for their artisticthan their human interest, Fontana's collection contains an itemwhich, if it adds little value to Chopin's musical legacy, attractsat least the attention of the lover and student of his music-namely, Op. 74, Seventeen Polish Songs, composed in the years 1824-1844, theonly vocal compositions of this pianist-composer that have got intoprint. The words of most of these songs are by his friend StephenWitwicki; others are by Adam Mickiewicz, Bogdan Zaleski, andSigismond Krasinski, poets with all of whom he was personallyacquainted. As to the musical settings, they are very unequal: aconsiderable number of them decidedly commonplace--Nos. 1, 5, 8, andalso 4 and 12 may be instanced; several, and these belong to thebetter ones, exceedingly simple and in the style of folk-songs--No. 2 consists of a phrase of four bars (accompanied by a pedal bassand the tonic and dominant harmonies) repeated alternately in Gminor and B flat major; and a few more developed in form and of amore artistic character. In the symphonies (the preludes, interludes, &c. ) of the songs, we meet now and then withreminiscences from his instrumental pieces. In one or two cases onenotices also pretty tone-painting--for instance, No. 10, "Horsemanbefore the Battle, " and No. 15, "The return Home" (storm). Among themost noteworthy are: the already-described No. 2; thesweetly-melancholy No. 3; the artistically more dignified No. 9; thepopular No. 13; the weird No. 15; and the impressive, but, by itsterrible monotony, also oppressive No. 17 ("Poland's Dirge"). Themazurka movement and the augmented fourth degree of the scale (Nos. 2 and 4) present themselves, apart from the emotional contents, asthe most strikingly-national features of these songs. Karasowskistates that many songs sung by the people in Poland are attributedto Chopin, chief among them one entitled "The third of May. "

I must not conclude this chapter without saying something aboutthe editions of Chopin's works. The original French, German, andEnglish editions all leave much to be desired in the way ofcorrectness. To begin with, the composer's manuscripts were verynegligently prepared, and of the German and the English, and evenof the French edition, he did not always see the proofs; and, whether he did or not, he was not likely to be a good proof-reader, which presupposes a special talent, or ratherdisposition. Indeed, that much in the preparation of themanuscripts for the press and the correction of the proofs wasleft to his friends and pupils may be gathered both from hisletters and from other sources. "The first comprehension of thepiece, " says Schumann, in speaking of the German edition of theTarantella, "is, unfortunately, rendered very difficult by themisprints with which it is really swarming. " Those who assistedChopin in the work incident to publication--more especially bycopying his autographs--were Fontana, Wolff, Gutmann, and inlater years Mikuli and Tellefsen. 

Here I may fitly insert a letter written by Chopin to MauriceSchlesinger on July 22, 1843 (not 1836, as La Mara supposes), which has some bearing on the subject under discussion. TheImpromptu spoken of is the third, Op. 51, in G flat major:--

 Dear friend, --In the Impromptu which you have issued with the paper [Gazette musicals] of July 9, there is a confusion in the paging, which makes my composition unintelligible. Though I cannot at all pretend to taking the pains which our friend Moscheles bestows on his works, I consider myself, however, with regard to your subscribers, in duty bound to ask you on this occasion to insert in your next number an erratum:--

 Page 3--read page 5. Page 5--read page 3. 

 If you are too busy or too lazy to write to me, answer me through the erratum in the paper, and that shall signify to me that you, Madame Schlesinger, and your children are all well. --Yours very truly, July 22 [1843]. F. CHOPIN. 

The first complete edition of Chopin's works was, according toKarasowski, [FOOTNOTE: More recently the same firm brought outthe works of Chopin edited by Jean Kleczynski. ] that published in1864, with the authorisation of the composer's family, byGebethner and Wolff, of Warsaw. But the most important editions--namely, critical editions--are Tellefsen's (I mention them inchronological order), Klindworth's, Scholtz's, and Breitkopf andHartel's. Simon Richault, of Paris, the publisher of the first-named edition, which appeared in 1860, says in the preface to itthat Tellefsen had in his possession a collection of the works ofChopin corrected by the composer's own hand. As to thevioloncello part of the Polonaise, it was printed as Franchommealways played it with the composer. The edition was also to befree from all marks of expression that were not Chopin's own. Notwithstanding all this, Tellefsen's edition left much to bedesired. 

 My friend and fellow-pupil, Thomas Tellefsen [writes Mikuli], who, till Chopin's last breath, had the happiness to be in uninterrupted intercourse with him, was quite in a position to bring out correctly his master's works in the complete edition undertaken by him for Richault. Unfortunately, a serious illness and his death interrupted this labour, so that numerous misprints remained uncorrected. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Mikuli's spelling of the name is Telefsen, whereas it is Tellefsen on the Norwegian's edition of Chopin's works, in all the dictionaries that mention him, and in the contemporary newspaper notices and advertisements I have come across. ]

 [FOOTNOTE: I do not know how to reconcile this last remark with the publisher's statement that the edition appeared in 1860 (it was entered at Stationers' Hall on September 20, 1860), and Tellefsen's death at Paris in October, 1874. ]

Klindworth's edition, the first volume of which appeared inOctober, 1873, and the last in March, 1876, at Moscow (P. Jurgenson), in six volumes, is described on the title-page as"Complete works of Fr. Chopin critically revised after theoriginal French, German, and Polish editions, carefully correctedand minutely fingered for pupils. " [FOOTNOTE: This edition hasbeen reprinted by Augener & Co. , of London. ] The work done byKlindworth is one of the greatest merit, and has received thehighest commendations of such men as Liszt and Hans von Bulow. Objections that can be made to it are, that the fingering, although excellent, is not always Chopinesque; and that thealteration of the rhythmically-indefinite small notes of theoriginal into rhythmically-definite ones, although facilitatingthe execution for learners, counteracts the composer's intention. Mikuli holds that an appeal to Chopin's manuscripts is of no useas they are full of slips of the pen--wrong notes and values, wrong accidentals and clefs, wrong slurs and 8va markings, andomissions of dots and chord-intervals. The original French, German, and English editions he regards likewise as unreliable. But of them he gives the preference to the French editions, asthe composer oftener saw proofs of them. On the other hand, theGerman editions, which, he thinks, came out later than the Parisones, contain subsequently-made changes and improvements. [FOOTNOTE: Take note, however, in connection with this remark, ofChopin's letter of August 30, 1845, on pp. 119-120 of thisvolume. ] Sometimes, no doubt, the Paris edition preceded theGerman one, but not as a rule. The reader will remember from theletters that Chopin was always anxious that his works shouldappear simultaneously in all countries, which, of course, was notalways practicable. Mikuli based his edition (Leipzig: Fr. Kistner), the preface to which is dated "Lemberg, September, 1879, " on his own copies, mostly of Parisian editions, copieswhich Chopin corrected in the course of his lessons; and on othercopies, with numerous corrections from the hand of the master, which were given him by the Countess Delphine Potocka. He hadalso the assistance of Chopin's pupils the Princess MarcellineCzartoryska and Madame Friederike Streicher (nee Muller), andalso of Madame Dubois and Madame Rubio, and of the composer'sfriend Ferdinand Hiller. Mikuli's edition, like Klindworth's, isfingered, and, as the title-page informs us, "for the most partaccording to the author's markings. " Hermann Scholtz, who editedChopin's works for Peters, of Leipzig, says in the preface (dated"Dresden, December, 1879") that his critical apparatus consistedof the original French, German, and English editions, variousautographs (the Preludes, Op. 28; the Scherzo, Op. 54; theImpromptu, Op. 51; the Nocturnes, Op. 48; the Mazurka, Op. 7, No. 3, and a sketch of the Mazurka, Op. 30, No. 4), and three volumesof Chopin's compositions with corrections, additions, and marksof expression by his own hand, belonging to the master's pupilMadame von Heygendorf (nee von Konneritz). In addition to theseadvantages he enjoyed the advice of M. Mathias, another pupil ofChopin. The critically-revised edition published (March, 1878--January, 1880) by Breitkopf and Hartel was edited by WoldemarBargiel, Johannes Brahms, Auguste Franchomme, Franz Liszt (thePreludes), Carl Reinecke, and Ernst Rudorff. The prospectus setsforth that the revision was based on manuscript material(autographs and proofs with the composer's corrections andadditions) and the original French and German editions; and thatMadame Schumann, M. Franchomme, and friends and pupils of thecomposer had been helpful with their counsel. Breitkopf andHartel's edition is the most complete, containing besides all thepianoforte solo and ensemble works published by the composerhimself, a greater number of posthumous works (including thesongs) than is to be found in any other edition. Klindworth's isa purely pianoforte edition, and excludes the trio, the pieceswith violoncello, and the songs. The above enumeration, however, does not exhaust the existing Chopin editions, which, indeed, arealmost innumerable, as in the last decade almost every publisher, at least, almost every German publisher, has issued one--amongothers there are Schuberth's, edited by Alfred Richter, Kahnt's, edited by S. Jadassohn, and Steingraber's, edited by Ed. Mertke. [FOOTNOTE: Among earlier editions I may mention the incompleteOEuvres completes, forming Vols. 21-24 of the Bibliotheque desPianistes, published by Schonenberger (Paris, 1860). ] Voluminousas the material for a critical edition of Chopin's works is, itsinconclusiveness, which constantly necessitates appeals to theindividual taste and judgment of the editor, precludes thepossibility of an edition that will satisfy all in all cases. Chopin's pupils, who reject the editing of their master's worksby outsiders, do not accept even the labours of those from amongtheir midst. These reasons have determined me not to criticise, but simply to describe, the most notable editions. In speaking ofthe disputes about the correctness of the various editions, Icannot help remembering a remark of Mendelssohn's, of whichWenzel told me. "Mendelssohn said on one occasion in his naivemanner: 'In Chopin's music one really does not know sometimeswhether a thing is right or wrong. '"

CHAPTER XXXI. 

CHOPIN'S ARRIVAL IN LONDON. --MUSICAL ASPECT OF THE BRITISHMETROPOLIS IN 1848. --CULTIVATION OF CHOPIN'S MUSIC IN ENGLAND. --CHOPIN AT EVENING PARTIES, &C. --LETTERS GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HISDOINGS AND FEELINGS. --TWO MATINEES MUSICALES GIVEN BY CHOPIN;CRITICISMS ON THEM. --ANOTHER LETTER. --KINDNESS SHOWN HIM. --CHOPINSTARTS FOR SCOTLAND. --A LETTER WRITTEN AT EDINBURGH AND CALDERHOUSE. --HIS SCOTCH FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES. --HIS STAY AT DR. LYSCHINSKl'S. --PLAYS AT A CONCERT IN MANCHESTER. --RETURNS TOSCOTLAND, AND GIVES A MATINEE MUSICALE IN GLASGOW AND INEDINBURGH. --MORE LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND. --BACK TO LONDON. --OTHERLETTERS. --PLAYS AT A "GRAND POLISH BALL AND CONCERT" IN THEGUILDHALL. --LAST LETTER FROM LONDON, AND JOURNEY AND RETURN TOPARIS. 

CHOPIN arrived in London, according to Mr. A. J. Hipkins, onApril 21, 1848. 

[FOOTNOTE: The indebtedness of two writers on Chopin to Mr. Hipkins has already been adverted to in the Preface. But hisvivid recollection of Chopin's visit to London in this year, andof the qualities of his playing, has been found of great valuealso in other published notices dealing with this period. Thepresent writer has to thank Mr. Hipkins, apart from second-handobligations, for various suggestions, answers to inquiries, andreading the proof-sheets of this chapter. ]

He took up his quarters first at 10, Bentinck Street, but soonremoved to the house indicated in the following letter, writtenby him to Franchomme on May 1, 1848:--

 Dearest friend, --Here I am, just settled. I have at last a room--fine and large--where I shall be able to breathe and play, and the sun visits me to-day for the first time. I feel less suffocated this morning, but all last week I was good for nothing. How are you and your wife and the dear children? You begin at last to become more tranquil, [FOOTNOTE: This, I think, refers to some loss Franchomme had sustained in his family] do you not? I have some tiresome visits; my letters of introduction are not yet delivered. I trifle away my time, and VOILA. I love you, and once more VOILA. 

 Yours with all my heart. 

 My kindest regards to Madame Franchomme. 48, Dover Street. Write to me, I will write to you also. 

Were Chopin now to make his appearance in London, what a stirthere would be in musical society! In 1848 Billet, Osborne, Kalkbrenner, Halle, and especially Thalberg, who came about thesame time across the channel, caused more curiosity. By the way, England was just then heroically enduring an artistic invasionsuch as had never been seen before; not only from France, butalso from Germany and other musical countries arrived day afterday musicians who had found that their occupation was gone on theContinent, where people could think of nothing but politics andrevolutions. To enumerate all the celebrities then congregated inthe British Metropolis would be beyond my power and the scope ofthis publication, but I must at least mention that among them wasno less eminent a creative genius than Berlioz, no less brillianta vocal star than Pauline Viardot-Garcia. Of other high-priestsand high-priestesses of the art we shall hear in the sequel. Butalthough Chopin did not set the Thames on fire, his visit was notaltogether ignored by the press. Especially the Athenaeum (H. F. Chorley) and the Musical World (J. W. Davison) honouredthemselves by the notice they took of the artist. The formerjournal not only announced (on April 29) his arrival, but alsosome weeks previously (on April 8) his prospective advent, saying: "M. Chopin's visit is an event for which we most heartilythank the French Republic. "

In those days, and for a long time after, the appreciation andcultivation of Chopin's music was in England confined to a selectfew. Mr. Hipkins told me that he "had to struggle for years togain adherents to Chopin's music, while enduring the good-humoured banter of Sterndale Bennett and J. W. Davison. " Thelatter--the author of An Essay on the Works of Frederic Chopin(London, 1843), the first publication of some length on thesubject, and a Preface to, or, to be more precise, a Memoirprefixed to Boosey & Co. 's The Mazurkas and Valses of F. Chopin--seems to have in later years changed his early good opinion ofthe Polish master. 

[FOOTNOTE: Two suggestions have been made to me in explanation ofthis change of opinion: it may have been due to the fear that therising glory of Chopin might dim that of Mendelssohn; or Davisonmay have taken umbrage at Chopin's conduct in an affair relativeto Mendelssohn. I shall not discuss the probability of thesesuggestions, but will say a few words with regard to the last-mentioned matter. My source of information is a Paris letter inthe Musical World of December 4, 1847. After the death ofMendelssohn some foreign musicians living in Paris proposed tosend a letter of condolence to Mrs. Mendelssohn. One part of theletter ran thus: "May it be permitted to us, German artists, farfrom our country, to offer, " &c. The signatures to it were:Rosenhain, Kalkbrenner, Panofka, Heller, Halle, Pixis, and Wolff. Chopin when applied to for his signature wrote: "La lettre venantdes Allemands, comment voulez-vous que je m'arroge le droit de lasigner?" One would think that no reasonable being could takeexception to Chopin's conduct in this affair, and yet the writerin the Musical World comments most venomously on it. ]

The battle fought in the pages of the Musical World in 1841illustrates the then state of matters in England. Hostilitiescommenced on October 28 with a criticism of the Mazurkas, Op. 41. Of its unparalleled nature the reader shall judge himself:--

 Monsieur Frederic Chopin has, by some means or other which we cannot divine, obtained an enormous reputation, a reputation but too often refused to composers of ten times his genius. M. Chopin is by no means a putter down of commonplaces; but he is, what by many would be esteemed worse, a dealer in the most absurd and hyperbolical extravagances. It is a striking satire on the capability for thought possessed by the musical profession, that so very crude and limited a writer should be esteemed, as he is very generally, a profound classical musician. M. Chopin does not want ideas, but they never extend beyond eight or sixteen bars at the utmost, and then he is invariably in nubibus. .. The works of the composer give us invariably the idea of an enthusiastic school-boy, whose parts are by no means on a par with his enthusiasm, who WILL be original whether he CAN or not. There is a clumsiness about his harmonies in the midst of their affected strangeness, a sickliness about his melodies despite their evidently FORCED unlikeness to familiar phrases, an utter ignorance of design everywhere apparent in his lengthened works. .. The entire works of Chopin present a motley surface of ranting hyperbole and excruciating cacophony. When he is not THUS singular, he is no better than Strauss or any other waltz compounder. .. Such as admire Chopin, and they are legion, will admire these Mazurkas, which are supereminently Chopin-ical; that do NOT we. 

Wessel and Stapleton, the publishers, protested against thisshameful criticism, defending Chopin and adducing the opinions ofnumerous musicians in support of their own. But the valorouseditor "ventures to assure the distinguished critics and thepublishers that there will be no difficulty in pointing out ahundred palpable faults, and an infinitude of meretriciousuglinesses, such as, to real taste and judgment, areintolerable. " Three more letters appeared in the followingnumbers--two for (Amateur and Professor) and one against(Inquirer) Chopin; the editor continuing to insist with as muchviolence as stupidity that he was right. It is pleasant to turnfrom this senseless opposition to the friends and admirers of themaster. Of them we learn something in Davison's Essay on theWorks of F. Chopin, from which I must quote a few passages:--

 This Concerto [the E minor] has been made known to the amateurs of music in England by the artist-like performance of Messrs. W. H. Holmes, F. B. Jewson, H. B. Richards, R. Barnett, and other distinguished members of the Royal Academy, where it is a stock piece. .. The Concerto [in F minor] has been made widely known of late by the clever performance of that true little prodigy Demoiselle Sophie Bohrer. .. . These charming bagatelles [the Mazurkas] have been made widely known in England through the instrumentality of Mr. Moscheles, Mr. Cipriani Potter, Mr. Kiallmark, Madame de Belleville-Oury, Mr. Henry Field (of Bath), Mr. Werner, and other eminent pianists, who enthusiastically admire and universally recommend them to their pupils. .. To hear one of those eloquent streams of pure loveliness [the nocturnes] delivered by such pianists as Edouard Pirkhert, William Holmes, or Henry Field, a pleasure we frequently enjoyed, is the very transcendency of delight. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Information about the above-named pianists may be found in the musical biographical dictionaries, with three exceptions-namely, Kiallmark, Werner, and Pirkhert. George Frederick Kiallmark (b. November 7, 1804; d. December 13, 1887), a son of the violinist and composer George Kiallmark, was for many years a leading professor in London. He is said to have had a thorough appreciation and understanding of Chopin's genius, and even in his last years played much of that master's music. He took especial delight in playing Chopin's Nocturnes, no Sunday ever passed without his family hearing him play two or three of them. --Louis Werner (whose real name was Levi) was the son of a wealthy and esteemed Jewish family living at Clapham. He studied music in London under Moscheles, and, though not an eminent pianist, was a good teacher. His amiability assured him a warm welcome in society. --Eduard Pirkhert died at Vienna, aged 63, on February 28, 1881. To Mr. Ernst Pauer, who is never appealed to in vain, I am indebted for the following data as well as for the subject--matter of my notice on Werner: "Eduard Pirkhert, born at Graz in 1817, was a pupil of Anton Halm and Carl Czerny. He was a shy and enormously diligent artist, who, however, on account of his nervousness, played, like Henselt, rarely in public. His execution was extraordinary and his tone beautiful. In 1855 he became professor at the Vienna Conservatorium. " Mr. Pauer never heard him play Chopin. ]

After this historical excursus let us take up again the record ofour hero's doings and sufferings in London. 

Chopin seems to have gone to a great many parties of variouskinds, but he could not always be prevailed upon to give thecompany a taste of his artistic quality. Brinley Richards saw himat an evening party at the house of the politician Milner Gibson, where he did not play, although he was asked to do so. Accordingto Mr. Hueffer, [FOOTNOTE: Chopin in Fortnightly Review ofSeptember, 1877, reprinted in Musical Studies (Edinburgh: A. & C. Black, 1880). ] he attended, likewise without playing, an eveningparty (May 6) at the house of the historian Grote. Sometimes ill-health prevented him from fulfilling his engagements; this, forinstance, was the case on the occasion of a dinner which Macreadyis said to have given in his honour, and to which Thackeray, Mrs. Procter, Berlioz, and Julius Benedict were invited. On the otherhand, Chopin was heard at the Countess of Blessington's (GoreHouse, Kensington) and the Duchess of Sutherland's (StaffordHouse). On the latter occasion Benedict played with him a duet ofMozart's. More than thirty years after, Sir Julius had still aclear recollection of "the great pains Chopin insisted should betaken in rehearsing it, to make the rendering of it at theconcert as perfect as possible. " John Ella heard Chopin play atBenedict's. Of another of Chopin's private performances in thespring of 1848 we read in the Supplement du Dictionnaire de laConversation, where Fiorentino writes:

 We were at most ten or twelve in a homely, comfortable little salon, equally propitious to conversation and contemplation. Chopin took the place of Madame Viardot at the piano, and plunged us into ineffable raptures. I do not know what he played to us; I do not know how long our ecstasy lasted: we were no longer on earth; he had transported us into unknown regions, into a sphere of flame and azure, where the soul, freed from all corporeal bonds, floats towards the infinite. This was, alas! the song of the swan. 

The sequel will show that the concluding sentence is no more thana flourish of the pen. Whether Chopin played at Court, as he saysin a letter to Gutmann he expected to do, I have not ascertained. Nor have I been able to get any information about a dinner which, Karasowski relates, some forty countrymen of Chopin's got up inhis honour when they heard of his arrival in London. According tothis authority the pianist-composer rose when the proceedingswere drawing to an end, and many speeches extolling him as amusician and patriot had been made, and spoke, if not thesewords, to this effect: "My dear countrymen! The proofs of yourattachment and love which you have just given me have truly movedme. I wish to thank you, but lack the talent of expressing myfeelings in words; I invite you therefore to accompany me to mylodgings and to receive there my thanks at the piano. " Theproposal was received with enthusiasm, and Chopin played to hisdelighted and insatiable auditors till two o'clock in themorning. What a crush, these forty or more people in Chopin'slodgings! However, that is no business of mine. 

[FOOTNOTE: After reading the above, Mr. Hipkins remarked: "Ifancy this dinner resembled the dinner which will go down toposterity as given by the Hungarians of London to Liszt in[1886], which was really a private dinner given by Mrs. Bretherton to fifteen people, of whom her children and mine werefour. NO Hungarians. "]

The documents--letters and newspaper advertisements and notices--bearing on this period of Chopin's life are so plentiful thatthey tell the story without the help of many additions andexplanatory notes. This is satisfactory, for one grain of fact ismore precious than a bushel of guesses and hearsays. 

 Chopin to Gutmann; London, 48, Dover Street, Piccadilly, Saturday, May 6, 1848:--

 Dear friend, --Here I am at last, settled in this whirlpool of London. It is only a few days since I began to breathe; for it is only a few days since the sun showed itself. I have seen M. D'Orsay, and notwithstanding all the delay of my letter he received me very well. Be so good as to thank the duchess for me and him. I have not yet made all my calls, for many persons to whom I have letters of introduction are not yet here. Erard was charming; he sent me a piano. I have a Broadwood and a Pleyel, which makes three, and yet I do not find time to play them. I have many visitors, and my days pass like lightning--I have not even had a moment to write to Pleyel. Let me know how you are getting on. In what state of mind are you? How are your people? With my people things are not going well. I am much vexed about this. In spite of that I must think of making a public appearance; a proposal has been made to me to play at the Philharmonic, [FOOTNOTE: "Chopin, we are told, " says the Musical World of May 27, 1848, "was invited to play at the Philharmonic, but declined. "] but I would rather not. I shall apparently finish off, after playing at Court before the Queen [chez la reine], by giving a matinee, limited to a number of persons, at a private residence [hotel particulier]. I wish that this would terminate thus. But these projects are only projects in the air. Write to me a great deal about yourself. --Yours ever, my old Gut. , CHOPIN. 

 P. S. --I heard the other evening Mdlle. Lind in La Sonnambula. [FOOTNOTE: Jenny Lind made her first appearance at Her Majesty's Theatre in the season 1848, on May 4, as Amina, in La Sonnambula. The Queen was present on that occasion. Pauline Garcia made her first appearance, likewise as Amina, at Covent Garden Theatre, on May 9. ] It was very fine; I have made her acquaintance. Madame Viardot also came to see me. She will make her debuts at the rival theatre [Covent Garden], likewise in La Sonnambula. All the pianists of Paris are here. Prudent played his Concerto at the Philharmonic with little success, for it is necessary to play classical music there. Thalberg is engaged for twelve concerts at the theatre where Lind is [Her Majesty's, Haymarket]. Halle is going to play Mendelssohn at the rival theatre. 

 Chopin to his friend Grzymala; Thursday, May 11, 1848:--

 I have just come from the Italian Opera, where Jenny Lind appeared to-day, for the first time, as Sonnambula, and the Queen showed herself for the first time to the people after a long retirement. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin must have begun this letter on the 4th of May, and dated it later on; for on the 11th of May Jenny Lind sang in La Figlia del Reggimento, and the presence of the Queen at the performance is not mentioned in the newspaper accounts of it. See preceding foot-note. ] Both were, of course, of much interest to me; more especially, however, Wellington, who, like an old, faithful dog in a cottage, sat in the box below his crowned mistress. I have also made Jenny Lind's personal acquaintance: when, a few days afterwards, I paid her a visit, she received me in the most amiable manner, and sent me an excellent "stall" for the opera performance. I was capitally seated and heard excellently. This Swede is indeed an original from top to toe! She does not show herself in the ordinary light, but in the magic rays of an aurora borealis. Her singing is infallibly pure and sure; but what I admired most was her piano, which has an indescribable charm. "Your

 FREDERICK. 

Of Chopin's visit Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt had to the last years ofher life a most pleasing and vivid recollection. She sang to himPolskas, [FOOTNOTE: Polskas are dances of Polish origin, popularin Sweden, whose introduction dates from the time of the union ofthe crowns of Sweden and Poland in 1587. ] which delighted himgreatly. The way Madame Goldschmidt spoke of Chopin showedunmistakably that he made the best possible impression upon her, not only as an artist, but also as a man--she was sure of hisgoodness, and that he could not but have been right in the Sandaffair, I mean as regards the rupture. She visited him when shewent in the following year (1849) to Paris. 

In his letter to Gutmann, Chopin speaks of his intention to givea matinee at a private house. And he more than realised it; forhe not only gave one, but two--the first at the house of Mrs. Sartoris (nee Adelaide Kemble) and the second at the house ofLord Falmouth. Here are two advertisements which appeared in theTimes. 

 June 15, 1848:--

 Monsieur Chopin will give a Matinee musicale, at No. 99, Eaton Place, on Friday, June 23, to commence at 3 o'clock. A limited number of tickets, one guinea each, with full particulars, at Cramer, Beale & Co. 's, 201, Regent Street. 

 July 3 and 4, 1848:--

 Monsieur Chopin begs to announce that his second Matinee musicale will take place on Friday next, July 7, at the residence of the Earl of Falmouth, No. 2, St. James's Square. To commence at half-past 3. Tickets, limited in number, and full particulars at Cramer, Beale & Co. 's, 201, Regent Street. 

 The Musical World (July 8, 1848) says about these performances:--

 M. Chopin has lately given two performances of his own pianoforte music at the residence of Mrs. Sartoris (late Miss Adelaide Kemble), which seem to have given much pleasure to his audiences, among whom Mdlle. Lind, who was present at the first, seems to be the most enthusiastic. We were not present at either, and, therefore, have nothing to say on the subject. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Of course, the above-quoted advertisements prove the reporter to be wrong in this particular; there was only one at the house of Mrs. Sartoris. ]

From an account of the first matinee in the Athenaeum we learnthat Chopin played nocturnes, etudes, mazurkas, two waltzes, andthe Berceuse, but none of his more developed works, such assonatas, concertos, scherzos, and ballades. The critic tries toanalyse the master's style of execution--a "mode" in which"delicacy, picturesqueness, elegance, and humour are blended soas to produce that rare thing, a new delight"--pointing out hispeculiar fingering, treatment of scale and shake, tempo rubato, &c. But although the critic speaks no less appreciatively of theplaying than of the compositions, the tenor of the notice of thesecond matinee (July 15, 1848) shows that the former leftnevertheless something to be desired. "Monsieur Chopin playedbetter at his second than at his first matinee--not with moredelicacy (that could hardly be), but with more force and brio. "Along with other compositions of his, Chopin played on thisoccasion his Scherzo in B flat and his Etude in C sharp minor. Another attraction of the matinee was the singing of MadameViardot-Garcia, "who, besides her inimitable airs with Mdlle. DeMendi, and her queerly-piquant Mazurkas, gave the Cenerentolarondo, graced with great brilliancy; and a song by Beethoven, 'Ich denke dein. '"

[FOOTNOTE: No doubt, those Mazurkas by Chopin which, adapting tothem Spanish words, she had arranged for voice and piano. Hillerwrote mostenthusiastically of these arrangements and herperformance of them. ]

Mr. Salaman said, at a meeting of the London Musical Association(April 5, 1880), in the course of a discussion on the subject ofChopin, that he was present at the matinee at the house of Mrs. Sartoris, and would never forget the concert-giver's playing, especially of the waltz in D flat. "I remember every bar, how heplayed it, and the appearance of his long, attenuated fingersduring the time he was playing. [FOOTNOTE: Their thinness mayhave made them appear long, but they were not really so. SeeAppendix III. ] He seemed quite exhausted. " Mr. Salaman wasparticularly struck by the delicacy and refinement of Chopin'stouch, and the utmost exquisiteness of expression. 

To Chopin, as the reader will see in the letter addressed toFranchomme, and dated August 6th and 11th, these semi-publicperformances had only the one redeeming point--that they procuredhim much-needed money, otherwise he regarded them as a greatannoyance. And this is not to be wondered at, if we consider thephysical weakness under which he was then labouring. When Chopinwent before these matinees to Broadwood's to try the pianoforteon which he was to play, he had each time to be carried up theflight of stairs which led to the piano-room. Chopin had also tobe carried upstairs when he came to a concert which his pupilLindsay Sloper gave in this year in the Hanover Square Rooms. Butnothing brings his miserable condition so vividly before us ashis own letters. 

 Chopin to Grzymala, London, July 18, 1848:--

 My best thanks for your kind lines and the accompanying letter from my people. Heaven be thanked, they are all well; but why are they concerned about me? I cannot become sadder than I am, a real joy I have not felt for a long time. Indeed, I feel nothing at all, I only vegetate, waiting patiently for my end. Next week I go to Scotland to Lord Torphichen, the brother-in- law of my Scottish friends, the Misses Stirling, who are already with him (in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh). He wrote to me and invited me heartily, as did also Lady Murray, an influential lady of high rank there, who takes an extraordinary interest in music, not to mention the many invitations I have received from various parts of England. But I cannot wander about from one place to another like a strolling musician; such a vagabond' life is hateful to me, and not conducive to my health. I intend to remain in Scotland till the 29th of August, on which day I go as far as Manchester, where I am engaged to play in public. I shall play there twice without orchestra, and receive for this 60 [pounds]. The Alboni comes also, but all this does not interest me--I just seat myself at the piano, and begin to play. I shall stay during this time with rich manufacturers, with whom also Neukomm [FOOTNOTE: Karasowski has Narkomm, which is, of course, either a misreading or a misprint, probably the former, as it is to be found in all editions of his book. ] has stayed. What I shall do next I don't know yet. If only someone could foretell whether I shall not fall sick here during the winter. .. "Your

 FREDERICK. 

Had Chopin, when he left Paris, really in view the possibility ofsettling in London? There was at the time a rumour of this beingthe case. The Athenaeum (April 8, 1848), in the note alreadyadverted to, said:--"M. Chopin is expected, if not already here--it is even added to remain in England. " But if he embraced theidea at first, he soon began to loosen his grasp of it, and, before long, abandoned it altogether. In his then state of healthexistence would have been a burden anywhere, but it was a greaterone away from his accustomed surroundings. Moreover, English lifeto be enjoyable requires a robustness of constitution, sentimental and intellectual as well as physical, which thedelicately-organised artist, even in his best time, could notboast of. If London and the rest of Britain was not to the mindof Chopin, it was not for want of good-will among the people. Chopin's letters show distinctly that kindness was showered uponhim from all sides. And these letters do not by any means containa complete roll of those who were serviceable to him. The name ofFrederick Beale, the publisher, for instance, is not to be foundthere, and yet he is said, with what truth I do not know, to haveattached himself to the tone-poet. 

[FOOTNOTE: Mr. Hipkins heard Chopin play at Broadwood's to Bealethe Waltzes in D flat major and C sharp minor (Nos. 1 and 2 ofOp. 64), subsequently published by Cramer, Beale and Co. But whydid the publisher not bring out the whole opus (three waltzes, not two), which had already been in print in France and Germanyfor nine or ten months? Was his attachment to the composer weakerthan his attachment to his cash-box?]

The attentions of the piano-makers, on the other hand, are dulyremembered. In connection with them I must not forget to recordthe fact that Mr. Henry Fowler Broadwood had a concert grand, thefirst in a complete iron frame, expressly made for Chopin, who, unfortunately, did not live to play upon it. 

[FOOTNOTE: For particulars about the Broadwood pianos used byChopin in England and Scotland (and he used there no others athis public concerts and principal private entertainments), seethe List of John Broadwood & Sons' Exhibits at the InternationalInventions Exhibition (1885), a pamphlet full of interestinginformation concerning the history and construction of thepianoforte. It is from the pen of A. J. Hipkins. ]

A name one misses with surprise in Chopin's letters is that ofhis Norwegian pupil Tellefsen, who came over from Paris toLondon, and seems to have devoted himself to his master. [FOOTNOTE: Tellefsen, says Mr. Hipkins, was nearly always withChopin. ] Of his ever-watchful ministering friend Miss Stirlingand her relations we shall hear more in the following letters. 

Chopin started for Scotland early in August, 1848, for on the 6thAugust he writes to Franchomme that he had left London a few daysbefore. 

 Chopin to Franchomme; Edinburgh, August 6 [1848]. Calder House, August 11:--

 Very dear friend, --I do not know what to say. The best, it seems to me, is not even to attempt to console you for the loss of your father. I know your grief--time itself assuages little such sorrows. I left London a few days ago. I made the journey to Edinburgh (407 miles) in twelve hours. After having taken a day's rest in Edinburgh, I went to Calder House, twelve miles from Edinburgh, the mansion of Lord Torphichen, brother-in-law of Madame Erskine, where I expect to remain till the end of the month and to rest after my great doings in London. I gave two matinees, which it appears have given pleasure, but which, for all that, did not the less bore me. Without them, however, I do not know how I could have passed three months in this dear London, with large apartments (absolutely necessary), carriage, and valet. My health is not altogether bad, but I become more feeble, and the air here does not yet agree with me. Miss Stirling was going to write to you from London, and asks me to beg you to excuse her. The fact is that these ladies had many preparations to make before their journey to Scotland, where they intend to remain some months. There is in Edinburgh a pupil of yours, Mr. Drechsler, I believe. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Louis Drechsler (son of the Dessau violoncellist Carl Drechsler and uncle of the Edinburgh violoncellist and conductor Carl Drechsler Hamilton), who came to Edinburgh in August, 1841, and died there on June 25, 1860. From an obituary notice in a local paper I gather that he studied under Franchomme in 1845. ]

 He came to see me in London; he appeared to me a fine young fellow, and he loves you much. He plays duets [fait de la musique] with a great lady of this country, Lady Murray, one of my sexagenarian pupils in London, to whom I have also promised a visit in her beautiful mansion. [FOOTNOTE: The wife of Lord (Sir John Archibald) Murray, I think. At any rate, this lady was very musical and in the habit of playing with Louis Drechsler. ] But I do not know how I shall do it, for I have promised to be in Manchester on the 28th of August to play at a concert for 60 pounds. Neukomm is there, and, provided that he does not improvise on the same day [et pourvu qu'il ne m'improvise pas le meme jour], I reckon on earning my 60 francs [he means, of course, "60 pounds"]. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Thinking that this remark had some hidden meaning, I applied to Franchomme for an explanation; but he wrote to me as follows: "Chopin trouvait que Neukomm etait un musicien ennuyeux, et il lui etait desagreable de penser que Neukomm pourrait improviser dans le concert dans lequel il devrait jouer. "]

 After that I don't know what will become of me. I should like very much if they were to give me a pension for life for having composed nothing, not even an air a la Osborne or Sowinski (both of them excellent friends), the one an Irishman, the other a compatriot of mine (I am prouder of them than of the rejected representative Antoine de Kontski-- Frenchman of the north and animal of the south). [FOOTNOTE: "Frenchmen of the north" used to be a common appellation of the Poles. ]

 After these parentheses, I will tell you truly that I know [FOOTNOTE: Here probably "not" ought to be added. ] what will become of me in autumn. At any rate, if you get no news from me do not complain of me, for I think very often of writing to you. If you see Mdlle. De Rozieres or Grzymala, one or the other of them will have heard something--if not from me, from some friends. The park here is very beautiful, the lord of the manor very excellent, and I am as well as I am permitted to be. Not one proper musical idea. I am out of my groove; I am like, for instance, an ass at a masked ball, a chanterelle [first, i. E. , highest string] of a violin on a double bass-- astonished, amazed, lulled to sleep as if I were hearing a trait [a run or a phrase] of Bodiot [FOOTNOTE: That is, Charles Nicolas Baudiot (1773-1849), the violoncellist, at one time professor at the Conservatoire. He published a school and many compositions for his instrument. ] (before the 24th of February), [FOOTNOTE: The revolution of February 24, 1848. ] or a stroke of the bow of M. Cap [FOOTNOTE: This gentleman was an amateur player of the violoncello and other stringed instruments. ] (after the June days). [FOOTNOTE: The insurrection of the Red Republicans on June 23-26, 1848. ] I hope they are still flourishing, for I cannot do without them in writing. But another real question is, that I hope you have no friends to deplore in all these terrible affairs. And the health of Madame Franchomme and of the little children? Write me a line, and address it to London, care of Mr. Broadwood, 33, Great Pulteney Street, Golden Square. I have here a perfect (material) tranquillity, and pretty Scotch airs. I wish I were able to compose a little, were it only to please these good ladies--Madame Erskine and Mdlle. Stirling. I have a Broadwood piano in my room, the Pleyel of Miss Stirling in my salon. I lack neither paper nor pens. I hope that you also will compose something, and may God grant that I hear it soon newly born. I have friends in London who advise me to pass there the winter. --But I shall listen only to my I do not know what [mon je ne sais quoi]; or, rather, I shall listen to the last comer--this comes often to the same thing as weighing well. Adieu dear, dear friend! My most sincere wishes to Madame Franchomme for her children. I hope that Rene amuses himself with his bass, that Cecile works well, and that their little sister always reads her books. Remember me to Madame Lasserve, I pray you, and correct my orthography as well as my French. 

 The following words are written along the margin:--

 The people here are ugly, but, it would seem, good. As a compensation there are charming, apparently mischievous, cattle, perfect milk, butter, eggs, and tout ce qui s'en suit, cheese and chickens. 

To save the reader from becoming confused by allusions inChopin's letters to names of unknown persons and places, I willnow say a few words about the composer's Scotch friends. TheStirlings of Keir, generally regarded as the principal family ofthe name, are said to be descended from Walter de Striveline, Strivelyn, or Strivelyng, Lucas of Strivelyng (1370-1449) beingthe first possessor of Keyr. The family was for about twocenturies engaged in the East India and West India trade. Archibald Stirling, the father of the late baronet, went, asWilliam Fraser relates in The Stirlings of Keir, like formeryounger sons, to Jamaica, where he was a planter for nearlytwenty-five years. He succeeded his brother James in 1831, greatly improved the mansion, and died in 1847. When Chopinvisited Keir it was in the possession of William Stirling, who, in 1865, became Sir William Stirling-Maxwell (his mother was adaughter of Sir John Maxwell), and is well-known by his literaryworks--Annals of the Artists of Spain (1848), The Cloister Lifeof the Emperor Charles V. (1852), Velasquez (1855), &c. He wasthe uncle of Jane Stirling and Mrs. Erskine, daughters (theformer the youngest daughter) of John Stirling, of Kippendavieand Kippenross, and friends of Chopin. W. Hanna, the editor ofthe Letters of Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, says that JaneStirling was a cousin and particular friend of Thomas Erskine. The latter used in later life to regard her and the Duchess deBroglie as the most remarkable women he had ever met:--

 In her later years she lived much in Paris, and counted among her friends there Ary Scheffer. In his "Christus Consolator, " this eminent artist has presented in one of the figures his ideal of female beauty, and was struck on being first introduced to Miss Stirling to find in her the almost exact embodiment of that ideal. She was introduced afterwards in many of his pictures. 

In a letter addressed to Mrs. Schwabe, and dated February 14, 1859, we read about her:--

 She was ill for eight weeks, and suffered a great deal. .. I know you will feel this deeply, for you could appreciate the purity and beauty of that stream of love which flowed through her whole life. I don't think that I ever knew anyone who seemed more entirely to have given up self, and devoted her whole being to the good of others. I remember her birth like yesterday, and I never saw anything in her but what was lovable from the beginning to the end of her course. 

Lindsay Sloper, who lived in Paris from 1841 to 1846, told methat Miss Stirling, who was likewise staying there, took for sometime lessons from him. As she wished to become a pupil of Chopin, he spoke to his master about her. Chopin, Lindsay Sloper said, was pleased with her playing, and soon began to like her. 

[FOOTNOTE: To the above I must append a cautionary foot-note. Inhis account to me Lindsay Sloper made two mistakes which provethat his memory was not one of the most trustworthy, and suggesteven the possibility that his Miss Stirling was a differentperson from Chopin's friend. His mistakes were these: he calledMrs. Erskine, who was with Miss Stirling in Paris, her auntinstead of her sister; and thought that Miss Stirling was abouteighteen years old when he taught her. The information I shallgive farther on seems to show that she was older rather thanyounger than Chopin; indeed, Mr Hipkins is of opinion that shewas in 1848 nearer fifty than forty. ]

To her the composer dedicated his Deux Nocturnes, Op. 55, whichhe published in August, 1844. It was thought that she was in lovewith Chopin, and there were rumours of their going to be married. Gutmann informed me that Chopin said to him one day when he wasill: "They have married me to Miss Stirling; she might as wellmarry death. " Of Miss Jane Stirling's elder sister Katherine, who, in 1811, married her cousin James Erskine, and lost herhusband already in 1816, Thomas Erskine says: "She was anadmirable woman, faithful and diligent in all duties, andunwearied in her efforts to help those who needed her help. " LordTorphichen, at whose residence (Calder House, twelve miles fromEdinburgh) Chopin passed much of his time in Scotland, was, as welearn from the composer's letters, a brother-in-law of MissStirling and Mrs. Erskine. Johnstone Castle (twelve miles fromGlasgow), where Chopin was also received as a guest, belonged tothe Houston family, friends of the Erskines and Stirlings, but, Ithink, no relations. The death of Ludovic Houston, Esq. , in 1862, is alluded to in one of Thomas Erskine's letters. 

But Chopin, while in Scotland, was not always staying in manorsand castles, now and then he was housed less aristocratically, though perhaps not less, nay, probably more, comfortably. Suchhumbler quarters he found at the house (10, Warriston Crescent)of Dr. Lyschinski, a Pole by birth, and a refugee, who afterstudying medicine in Edinburgh practised it there until a fewyears ago when he removed to London. For the information which Iam now going to give I am indebted to Mrs. Lyschinski. Amongthose who received Chopin at the Edinburgh railway station wasDr. Lyschinski who addressed him in Polish. The composer put upat an hotel (perhaps the London Hotel, in St. Andrew's Square). Next day--Miss Paterson, a neighbour, having placed her carriageat Chopin's disposal--Mrs. Lyschinski took him out for a drive. He soon got tired of the hotel, in fact, felt it quiteunbearable, and told the doctor, to whom he had at once taken afancy, that he could not do without him. Whereupon the lattersaid: "Well, then you must come to my house; and as it is rathersmall, you must be satisfied with the nursery. " So the childrenwere sent to a friend's house, and the nursery was made into abedroom for the illustrious guest, an adjoining bedroom beingprepared for his servant Daniel, an Irish-Frenchman. Unless theabove refers to Chopin's return to Scotland in September, afterhis visit to Manchester, Mrs. Lyschinski confuses herreminiscences a little, for, as the last-quoted letter proves, hetarried, on his first arrival, only one day in Edinburgh. But thefacts, even if not exactly grouped, are, no doubt, otherwisecorrectly remembered. Chopin rose very late in the day, and inthe morning had soup in his room. His hair was curled daily bythe servant, and his shirts, boots, and other things were of theneatest--in fact, he was a petit-maitre, more vain in dress thanany woman. The maid-servants found themselves strictly excludedfrom his room, however indispensable their presence might seem tothem in the interests of neatness and cleanliness. Chopin was soweak that Dr. Lyschinski had always to carry him upstairs. Afterdinner he sat before the fire, often shivering with cold. Thenall on a sudden he would cross the room, seat himself at thepiano, and play himself warm. He could bear neither dictation norcontradiction: if you told him to go to the fire, he would go tothe other end of the room where the piano stood. Indeed, he wasimperious. He once asked Mrs. Lyschinski to sing. She declined. At this he was astonished and quite angry. "Doctor, would youtake it amiss if I were to force your wife to do it?" The idea ofa woman refusing him anything seemed to him preposterous. Mrs. Lyschinski says that Chopin was gallant to all ladies alike, butthinks that he had no heart. She used to tease him about women, saying, for instance, that Miss Stirling was a particular friendof his. He replied that he had no particular friends among theladies, that he gave to all an equal share of his attention. "Noteven George Sand then, " she asked, "is a particular friend?" "Noteven George Sand, " was the reply. Had Mrs. Lyschinski known thereal state of matters between Chopin and George Sand, shecertainly would not have asked that question. He, however, by nomeans always avoided the mention of his faithless love. Speakingone day of his thinness he remarked that she used to call him moncher cadavre. Miss Stirling was much about Chopin. I may mentionby the way that Mrs. Lyschinski told me that Miss Stirling wasmuch older than Chopin, and her love for him, althoughpassionate, purely Platonic. Princess Czartoryska arrived sometime after Chopin, and accompanied him, my informant says, wherever he went. But, as we see from one of his letters, herstay in Scotland was short. The composer was always on the move. Indeed, Dr. Lyschinski's was hardly more than a pied-a-terre forhim: he never stayed long, and generally came unexpectedly. Anumber of places where Chopin was a guest are mentioned in hisletters. Mrs. Lyschinski thinks that he also visited the Duke ofHamilton. 

At the end of August and at the end of September and beginning ofOctober, this idling was interrupted by serious work, and a kindof work which, at no time to his liking, was particularly irksomein the then state of his health. 

The Manchester Guardian of August 19, 1848, contained thefollowing advertisement:--

 Concert Hall. --The Directors beg to announce to the Subscribers that a Dress Concert has been fixed for Monday, the 28th of August next, for which the following performers have already been engaged: Signora Alboni, Signora Corbari, Signer Salvi, and Mons. Chopin. 

From an account of the concert in the same paper (August 30), thewriter of which declares the concert to have been the mostbrilliant of the season, we learn that the orchestra, led by Mr. Seymour, played three overtures--Weber's Ruler of the Spirits, Beethoven's Prometheus, and Rossini's Barbiere di Siviglia; andthat Chopin performed an Andante and Scherzo, and a Nocturne, Etudes, and the Berceuse of his own composition. With regard toChopin we read in this critique:--

 With the more instrumental portion of the audience, Mons. Chopin was perhaps an equal feature of interest with Alboni, as he was preceded by a high musical reputation. Chopin appears to be about thirty years of age. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin, says Mr. Hipkins, had a young look, although much wasted. ] He is very spare in frame, and there is an almost painful air of feebleness in his appearance and gait. This vanishes when he seats himself at the instrument, in which he seems for the time perfectly absorbed. Chopin's music and style of performance partake of the same leading characteristics-- refinement rather than vigour--subtle elaboration rather than simple comprehensiveness in composition--an elegant rapid touch, rather than a firm, nervous grasp of the instrument. Both his compositions and playing appear to be the perfection of chamber music--fit to be associated with the most refined instrumental quartet and quartet playing--but wanting breadth and obviousness of design, and executive power, to be effective in a large hall. These are our impressions from hearing Mons. Chopin for the first time on Monday evening. He was warmly applauded by many of the most accomplished amateurs in the town, and he received an encore in his last piece, a compliment thus accorded to each of the four London artists who appeared at the concert. 

From the criticism of the Manchester Courier and LancashireGeneral Advertiser (August 30, 1848), I cull the followingremarks:--

 We can, with great sincerity, say that he delighted us. Though we did not discover in him the vigour of Thalberg, yet there was a chasteness and purity of style, a correctness of manipulation combined with a brilliance of touch, and delicate sensibility of expression which we never heard excelled. He played in the second act [part]. .. And elicited a rapturous encore. He did not, however, repeat any part, but treated the audience with what appeared to be a fragment of great beauty. 

Mr. Osborne, in a paper on Chopin read before the London MusicalAssociation, says:--

 On a tour which I made with Alboni, I met Chopin at Manchester, where he was announced to play at a grand concert without orchestra. He begged I should not be present. "You, my dear Osborne, " said he, "who have heard me so often in Paris, remain with those impressions. My playing will be lost in such a large room, and my compositions will be ineffective. Your presence at the concert will be painful both to you and me. "

Mr. Osborne told his audience further that notwithstanding thisappeal he was present in a remote corner of the room. I may addthat although he could absent himself from the hall for the timeChopin was playing, he could not absent himself from the concert, for, as the papers tell us, he acted as accompanist. Theimpression which Chopin's performance on this occasion left uponhis friend's mind is described in the following few sad words:"His playing was too delicate to create enthusiasm, and I felttruly sorry for him. "

Soon after the concert Chopin returned to Scotland. How many days(between August 23 and September 7?) he remained in Manchester, Ido not know, but it is well known that while staying there he wasthe guest of Mr. And Mrs. Salis Schwabe. To Mrs. Salis Schwabe, alady noted for her benevolence, Thomas Erskine addressed theletter concerning Miss Jane Stirling a part of which I quoted onone of the foregoing pages of this chapter. The reader remembers, of course, Chopin's prospective allusions to the Manchesterconcert in his letters to Franchomme (August 6, 1848) andGrzymala (July 18, 1848). 

About a month after the concert at which he played in Manchester, Chopin gave one of his own in Glasgow. Here is what may be readin the Courier of September 28 and previous days:--

 Monsieur Chopin has the honour to announce that his Matinee musicals will take place on Wednesday, the 27th September, in the Merchant Hall, Glasgow. To commence at half-past two o'clock. Tickets, limited in number, half-a-guinea each, and full particulars to be had from Mr. Muir Wood, 42, Buchanan Street. 

The net profits of this concert are said to have been 60 pounds. Mr. Muir Wood relates:--

 I was then a comparative stranger in Glasgow, but I was told that so many private carriages had never been seen at any concert in the town. In fact, it was the county people who turned out, with a few of the elite of Glasgow society. Being a morning concert, the citizens were busy otherwise, and half- a-guinea was considered too high a sum for their wives and daughters. 

No doubt Chopin's playing and compositions must have been to thegood Glasgow citizens of that day what caviare is to the general. In fact, Scotland, as regards music, had at that period not yetemerged from its state of primitive savagery. But if we maybelieve the learned critic in the Glasgow Courier, Chopin'smatinee was numerously attended, and the audience, whichconsisted of "the beauty and fashion, indeed of the very elite ofthe West-end, " thoroughly enjoyed the playing of the concert-giver and the singing of Madame Adelasio de Margueritte whoassisted him. I think the reader will be interested by thefollowing specimen of criticism for more than one reason:--

 The performance was certainly of the highest order in point of musical attainment and artistic skill, and was completely successful in interesting and delighting everyone present for an hour and a half. Visited as we now are by the highest musical talent, by this great player and the other eminent composer, it must be difficult for each successive candidate for our patronage and applause to produce in sufficient quantity that essential element to success--novelty; but M. Chopin has proved satisfactorily that it is not easy to estimate the capabilities of the instrument he handles with so much grace and ingenuity, or limit the skill and power whose magic touch makes it pour forth its sublime strains to electrify and delight anew the astonished listener. M. Chopin's treatment of the pianoforte is peculiar to himself, and his style blends in beautiful harmony and perfection the elegant, the picturesque, and the humorous. We cannot at present descend to practical illustrations in proof of these observations, but feel persuaded we only express the feelings of all who attended yesterday when we say that the pianist produces, without extraordinary effort, not only pleasing, but new musical delights. Madame Adelasio has a beautiful voice, which she manages with great ease and occasional brilliancy. She sang several airs with much taste and great acceptance. We may mention that all the pieces were rapturously applauded, and the audience separated with expressions of the highest gratification. 

Clearly this critic was not without judgment, although hisliterary taste and skill leave much to be desired. That therewere real Chopin enthusiasts in Glasgow is proved by an effusion, full of praise and admiration, which the editor received from acorrespondent and inserted on September 30, two days after theabove criticism. But, without indulging our curiosity further, wewill now take our leave of Glasgow and Glasgow critics. 

On October 4, Chopin gave an evening concert in Edinburgh. Hereis the programme:--

 HOPETOUN ROOMS, QUEEN STREET. MONSIEUR CHOPIN'S SOIREE MUSICALE. 

 Programme. 

 1. Andante et Impromptu. 2. Etudes. 3. Nocturne et Berceuse. 4. Grande Valse Brillante. 5. Andante precede d'un Largo. 6. Preludes, Ballade, Mazurkas et Valses. 

 To commence at half-past eight o'clock. Tickets, limited to number, half-a-guinea each. To be had, &c. 

Mrs. Lyschinski told me that this concert was chiefly attended bythe nobility. Half-a-guinea had never been charged for admissionto a concert (which is probably overstating the case), and Chopinwas little known. Miss Stirling, who was afraid the hall mightnot be filled, bought fifty pounds' worth of tickets. The pianoon which Chopin played (one sent by Broadwood, and used inGlasgow as well as in Edinburgh) was afterwards sold for 30pounds above the price. Thus, at any rate, runs the legend. 

In the Edinburgh Courant, which contained on September 30 and onother days an advertisement similar to the Glasgow one (with theaddition of a programme, consisting, however, only of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 6th items of the one above given), there appearedon October 7, 1848, a notice of the concert, a part of which mayfind a place here:--

 This talented pianist gratified his admirers by a performance on Wednesday evening in the Hopetoun Rooms, where a select and highly fashionable audience assembled to welcome him on his first appearance in Edinburgh. .. Chopin's compositions have been too long before the musical portion of Europe, and have been too highly appreciated to require any comment, further than that they are among the best specimens of classical excellence in pianoforte music. Of his execution we need say nothing further than that it is the most finished we have ever heard. He has neither the ponderosity nor the digital power of a Mendelssohn, a Thalberg, or Liszt; consequently his execution would appear less effective in a large room; but as a chamber pianist he stands unrivalled. Notwithstanding the amount of musical entertainment already afforded the Edinburgh public this season, the rooms were filled with an audience who, by their judicious and well-timed applause, testified their appreciation of the high talent of Monsieur Chopin. 

An Edinburgh correspondent of the Musical World, who signshimself "M. , " confirms (October 14, 1848) the statements of thecritic of the Courant. From this communication we learn that oneof the etudes played was in F minor (probably No. 2 of Op. 25, although there are two others in the same key--No. 9 of Op. 10and No. 1 of Trois Etudes without opus number). The problematicalAndante precede d'un Largo was, no doubt, a juxtaposition of twoof his shorter compositions, this title being chosen to vary theprogramme. From Mr. Hipkins I learned that at this Chopin playedfrequently the slow movement from his Op. 22, Grande Polonaisepreceded d'un Andante Spianato. 

And now we will let Chopin again speak for himself. 

Chopin to Grzymala; Keir, Perthshire, Sunday, October 1, 1848:--

 No post, no railway, also no carriage (not even for taking the air), no boat, not a dog to be seen--all desolate, desolate! My dearest friend, --Just at the moment when I had already begun to write to you on another sheet, your and my sister's letters were brought to me. Heaven be thanked that cholera has hitherto spared them. But why do you not write a word about yourself? and yet to you corresponding is much easier than to me; for I have been writing to you daily for a whole week already--namely, since my return from northern Scotland (Strachur [FOOTNOTE: A small town, eight miles south of Inveraray, in Argyleshire. ])--without getting done. I know, indeed, that you have an invalid in Versailles; for Rozaria [FOOTNOTE: Mdlle. De Rozieres. ] wrote to me that you had paid her a visit, and then in great haste had gone to an invalid in Versailles. I hope it is not your grandfather or grandchild, or one of your dear neighbours, the Rochanskis. Here one hears as yet nothing of cholera, but in London it appears already here and there. 

 With your letter, which I received at Johnstone Castle, and in which you informed me that you had been with Soli [FOOTNOTE: I suppose Solange, Madame Clesinger, George Sand's daughter. ] at the Gymnase Theatre, there came at the same time one from Edinburgh, from Prince Alexander Czartoryski, with the news that he and his wife had arrived, and that he would be very glad to see me. Although tired, I at once took the train and found them still in Edinburgh. Princess Marcelline was as kind as she always is to me. The intercourse with them reanimated me, and gave me strength to play in Glasgow, where the whole haute volee had gathered for my concert. The weather was magnificent, and the princely family had even come from Edinburgh with little Marcel, who is growing nicely, and sings already my compositions, yes, and even corrects when he hears someone making mistakes. It was on Wednesday afternoon, at 3 o'clock, and the princely couple did me the kindness to accept along with me an invitation to a dinner at Johnstone Castle (by the way, twelve English miles from Glasgow) after the concert; in this way, then, I passed the whole day with them. Lord and Lady Murray and the old Lord Torphichen (who had come a distance of a hundred miles) drove also thither with us, and the next day all were quite charmed with the amiability of Princess Marcelline. The princely pair returned to Glasgow, whence, after a visit to Loch Tamen, [FOOTNOTE: There is no such loch. Could it possibly be Loch Lomond? Loch Leven seems to me less likely. ] they wished to go back at once to London, and thence to the Continent. The Prince spoke of you with sincere kindness. I can very well imagine what your noble soul must suffer when you see what is now going on in Paris. You cannot think how I revived, how lively I became that day in the society of such dear countrymen; but to-day I am again very depressed. O, this mist! Although, from the window at which I write, I have before me the most beautiful view of Stirling Castle--it is the same, as you will remember, which delighted Robert Bruce--and mountains, lochs, a charming park, in one word, the view most celebrated for its beauty in Scotland; I see nothing, except now and then, when the mist gives way to the sun. The owner of this mansion, whose name is Stirling, is the uncle of our Scotch ladies, and the head of the family. I made his acquaintance in London; he is a rich bachelor, and has a very beautiful picture-gallery, which is especially distinguished by works of Murillo and other Spanish masters. He has lately even published a very interesting book on the Spanish school; he has travelled much (visited also the East), and is a very intelligent man. All Englishmen of note who come to Scotland go to him; he has always an open house, so that there are daily on an average about thirty people at dinner with him. In this way one has opportunities of seeing the most different English beauties; lately there was, for instance, for some days a Mrs. Boston here, but she is already gone. As to dukes, earls, and lords, one now sees here more of them than ever, because the Queen has sojourned in Scotland. Yesterday she passed close by us by rail, as she had to be at a certain time in London, and there was such a fog on the sea that she preferred to return from Aberdeen to London by land, and not (as she had come) by boat--to the great regret of the navy, which had prepared various festivities for her. It is said that her consort, Prince Albert, was very much pleased at this, as he becomes always sea-sick on board, while the Queen, like a true ruler of the sea, is not inconvenienced by a voyage. I shall soon have forgotten Polish, speak French like an Englishman, and English like a Scotchman--in short, like Jawurek, jumble together five languages. If I do not write to you a Jeremiad, it is not because you cannot comfort me, but because you are the only one who knows everything; and if I once begin to complain, there will be no end to it, and it will always be in the same key. But it is incorrect when I say: "always in the same key, " for things are getting worse with me every day. I feel weaker; I cannot compose, not for want of inclination, but for physical reasons, and because I am every week in a different place. But what shall I do? At least, I shall save something for the winter. Invitations I have in plenty, and cannot even go where I should like, for instance, to the Duchess of Argyll and Lady Belhaven, as the season is already too far advanced and too dangerous for my enfeebled health. I am all the morning unable to do anything, and when I have dressed myself I feel again so fatigued that I must rest. After dinner I must sit two hours with the gentlemen, hear what they say, and see how much they drink. Meanwhile I feel bored to death. I think of something totally different, and then go to the drawing-room, where I require all my strength to revive, for all are anxious to hear me. Afterwards my good Daniel carries me upstairs to my bedroom, undresses me, puts me to bed, leaves the candle burning, and then I am again at liberty to sigh and to dream until morning, to pass the next day just like the preceding one. When I have settled down in some measure, I must continue my travels, for my Scotch ladies do not allow me--to be sure with the best intentions in the world--any rest. They fetch me to introduce me to all their relations; they will at last kill me with their kindness, and I must bear it all out of pure amiability. --

 Your

 FREDERICK. 

Chopin to Gutmann; Calder House, October 16, 1848 (twelve milesfrom Edinburgh):--

 Very dear friend, --What are you doing? How are your people, your country, your art? you are unjustly severe upon me, for you know my infirmity in the matter of letter-writing. I have thought of you much, and on reading the other day that there was a disturbance at Heidelberg, I tried some thirty rough draughts [brouillons] in order to send you a line, the end of them all being to be thrown into the fire. This page will perhaps reach you and find you happy with your good mother. Since I had news from you, I have been in Scotland, in this beautiful country of Walter Scott, with so many memories of Mary Stuart, the two Charleses, &c. I drag myself from one lord to another, from one duke to another. I find everywhere, besides extreme kindness and hospitality without limit, excellent pianos, beautiful pictures, choice libraries; there are also hunts, horses, dogs, interminable dinners, and cellars of which I avail myself less. It is impossible to form an idea of all the elaborate comfort which reigns in the English mansions. The Queen having passed this year some weeks in Scotland, all England followed her, partly out of courtesy, partly because of the impossibility of going to the disturbed Continent. Everything here has become doubly splendid, except the sun, which has done nothing more than usual; moreover, the winter advances, and I do not know yet what will become of me. I am writing to you from Lord Torphichen's. In this mansion, above my apartment, John Knox, the Scotch reformer, dispensed for the first time the Sacrament. Everything here furnishes matter for the imagination--a park with hundred-year-old trees, precipices, walls of the castle in ruins, endless passages with numberless old ancestors--there is even a certain Red-cowl which walks there at midnight. I walk there my incertitude. [II y a meme un certain bonnet rouge, qui s'y promene a minuit. J'y promene mon incertitude. ]

 Cholera is coming; there is fog and spleen in London, and no president in Paris. It does not matter where I go to cough and suffocate, I shall always love you. Present my respects to your mother, and all my wishes for the happiness of you all. Write me a line to the address: Dr. Lishinsky, [FOOTNOTE: The letter I shall next place before the reader is addressed by Chopin to "Dr. Lishinski. " In an Edinburgh medical directory the name appeared as Lyszynski. ] 10, Warriston Crescent, Edinburgh, Scotland. --Yours, with all my heart, CHOPIN. 

 P. S. --I have played in Edinburgh; the nobility of the neighbourhood came to hear me; people say the thing went off well--a little success and money. There were this year in Scotland Lind, Grisi, Alboni, Mario, Salvi--everybody. 

From Chopin's letters may be gathered that he arrived once morein London at the end of October or beginning of November. 

Chopin to Dr. Lyschinski; London, November 3, 1848:--

 I received yesterday your kind words with the letter from Heidelberg. I am as perplexed here as when I was with you, and have the same love in my heart for you as when I was with you. My respects to your wife and your neighbours. May God bless you!

 I embrace you cordially. I have seen the Princess [Czartoryska]; they were inquiring about you most kindly. 

 My present abode is 4, St. James's Place. If anything should come for me, please send it to that address. 

 3rd November, 1848. 

 Pray send the enclosed note to Miss Stirling, who, no doubt, is still at Barnton. 

 [FOOTNOTE: In this case, as when writing to Woyciechowski, Matuszynski, Fontana, Franchomme and Gutmann, Chopin uses in addressing his correspondent, the pronoun of the second person singular. Here I may also mention the curious monogram on his seal: three C's in the form of horns (with mouthpieces and bells) intertwined. ]

The following letter shows in what state of mind and body Chopinwas at the time. 

Chopin to Grzymala; London, October [should be November] 17-18, 1848:--

 My dearest friend, --For the last eighteen days, that is, since my arrival in London, I have been ill, and had such a severe cold in my head (with headache, difficult breathing, and all my bad symptoms) that I did not get out of doors at all. The physician visits me daily (a homoeopathist of the name of Mallan, the same whom my Scotch ladies have and who has here a great reputation, and is married to a niece of Lady Gainsborough). He has succeeded in restoring me so far that yesterday I was able to take part in the Polish Concert and Ball; I went, however, at once home, after I had gone through my task. The whole night I could not sleep, as I suffered, besides cough and asthma, from very violent headache. As yet the mist has not been very bad, so that, in order to breathe a little fresh air, I can open the windows of my apartments notwithstanding the keen cold. I live at No. 4, St. James's Street, see almost every day the excellent Szulczewski, Broadwood, Mrs. Erskine, who followed me hither with Mr. Stirling, and especially Prince Alexander [Czartoryski] and his wife. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Charles Francis Szulczewski, son of Charles Szulczewski, Receiver General for the District of Orlow, born on January 18, 1814, was educated at the Military School at Kalisz, served during the War of 1831 in the Corps of Artillery under General Bem, obtained the Cross of Honour (virtuti militari) for distinguishing himself at Ostrolenka, passed the first years of his refugee life in France, and in 1842 took up his residence in London, where, in 1845, he became Secretary of the Literary Association of the Friends of Poland. He was promoted for his services to the rank of Major in the Polish Legion, which was formed in Turkey under the command of Ladislas Zamoyski, and after the treaty of Paris (1856) the English Government appointed him to a post in the War Office. Major Szulczewski, who died on October 18, 1884, was an ardent patriot, highly esteemed not only by his countrymen, but also by all others who came in contact with him, numbering among his friends the late Lord Dudley Stuart and the late Earl of Harrowby. ]

 Address your letters, please, to Szulczewski. I cannot yet come to Paris, but I am always considering what is to be done to return there. Here in these apartments, which for any healthy man would be good, I cannot remain, although they are beautifully situated and not dear (four and a half guineas a week, inclusive of bed, coals, &c. ); they are near Lord Stuart's, [FOOTNOTE: Lord Dudley Cuotts Stuart, a staunch and generous friend of the Poles. ] who has just left me. This worthy gentleman came to inquire how I felt after last night's concert. Probably I shall take up my quarters with him, because he has much larger rooms, in which I can breathe more freely. En tout cas--inquire, please, whether there are not somewhere on the Boulevard, in the neighbourhood of the Rue de la Paix or Rue Royale, apartments to be had on the first etage with windows towards the south; or, for aught I care, in the Rue des Mathurin, but not in the Rue Godot or other gloomy, narrow streets; at any rate, there must be included a room for the servant. Perhaps Franck's old quarters, which were above mine, at the excellent Madame Etienne's, in the Square No. 9 (Cite d'Orleans), are unoccupied; for I know from experience that I cannot keep on my old ones during the winter. If there were only on the same story a room for the servant, I should go again and live with Madame Etienne, but I should not like to let my Daniel go away, as, should I at any time wish or be able to return to England, he will be acquainted with everything. 

 Why I bother you with all this I don't know myself; but I must think of myself, and, therefore, I beg of you, assist me in this. I have never cursed anyone, but now I am so weary of life that I am near cursing Lucrezia! [FOOTNOTE: George Sand. This allusion after what has been said in a previous chapter about her novel Lucrezia Floriani needs no further explanation. ] But she suffers too, and suffers more because she grows daily older in wickedness. What a pity about Soli! [FOOTNOTE: I suppose Solange, Madame Clesinger, George Sand's daughter. ] Alas! everything is going wrong in this world. Think only that Arago with the eagle on his breast now represents France!!! Louis Blanc attracts here nobody's attention. The deputation of the national guard drove Caussidier out of the Hotel de la Sablonniere (Leicester Square) from the table d'hote with the exclamation: "Vous n'etes pas francais!"

 Should you find apartments, let me know at once; but do not give up the old ones till then. --Your

FREDERICK. 

The Polish Ball and Concert alluded to in the above letterdeserves our attention, for on that occasion Chopin was heard forthe last time in public, indeed, his performance there may betruly called the swan's song. 

The following is an advertisement which appeared in the DAILYNEWS of November 1, 1848:--

 Grand Polish Ball and Concert at Guildhall, under Royal and distinguished patronage, and on a scale of more than usual magnificence, will take place on Thursday, the 16th of November, by permission of the Lord Mayor and Corporation of the City of London; particulars of which will be shortly announced to the public. 

 JAMES R. CARR, HONORARY SECRETARY. 

The information given in this advertisement is supplemented inone of November 15:--

 The magnificent decorations used on the Lord Mayor's day are, by permission, preserved. The concert will comprise the most eminent vocalists. Tickets (refreshments included), for a lady and gentleman, 21/-; for a gentleman, 15/-; for a lady, 10/6; to be had of, &c. 

On the 17th of November the TIMES had, of course, an account ofthe festivity of the preceding night:--

 The patrons and patronesses of this annual or rather perennial demonstration in favour of foreign claims on domestic charity assembled last night at Guildhall much in the same way as they assembled last year and on previous occasions, though certainly not in such numbers, nor in such quality as some years ago. The great hall was illuminated and decorated as at the Lord Mayor's banquet. The appearance was brilliant without being particularly lively. 

Then the dancing, Mr. Adams' excellent band, the refreshmentrooms, a few noble Lords, the Lord Mayor, and some of the civicauthorities (who "diversified the plain misters and mistresseswho formed the majority"), the gay costumes of some Highlandersand Spaniards, and Lord Dudley (the great lion of the evening)--all these are mentioned, but there is not a word about Chopin. Ofthe concert we read only that it "was much the same as on formeranniversaries, and at its conclusion many of the companydeparted. " We learn, moreover, that the net profit was estimatedat less than on former occasions. 

The concert for which Chopin, prompted by his patriotism andpersuaded by his friends, lent his assistance, was evidently asubordinate part of the proceedings in which few took anyinterest. The newspapers either do not notice it at all or butvery briefly; in any case the, great pianist-composer is ignored. Consequently, very little information is now to be obtained aboutthis matter. Mr. Lindsay Sloper remembered that Chopin playedamong other things the "Etudes" in A flat and F minor (Op. 25, Nos. 1 & 2). But the best account we have of the concert are someremarks of one present at it which Mr. Hueffer quotes in hisessay on Chopin in "Musical Studies":--

 The people, hot from dancing, who went into the room where he played, were but little in the humour to pay attention, and anxious to return to their amusement. He was in the last stage of exhaustion, and the affair resulted in disappointment. His playing at such a place was a well-intentioned mistake. 

What a sad conclusion to a noble artistic career!

Although Chopin was longing for Paris in November, he was stillin London in the following January. 

Chopin to Grzymaia; London, Tuesday, January, 1849:--

 My dearest friend, --To-day I am again lying almost the whole day, but Thursday I shall leave the to me unbearable London. The night from Thursday to Friday I shall remain at Boulogne, and, I hope, go to bed on Friday night in the Place d'Orleans. To other ailments is now added neuralgia. Please see that the sheets and pillows are quite dry and cause fir-nuts to be bought; Madame Etienne is not to spare anything, so that I may warm myself when I arrive. I have written to Drozewski that he is to provide carpets and curtains. I shall pay the paper- hanger Perrichon at once after my arrival. Tell Pleyel to send me a piano on Thursday; let it be closed and a nosegay of violets be bought, so that there may be a nice fragrance in the salon. I should like to find a little poesy in my rooms and in my bedroom, where I in all probability shall lie down for a long time. 

 Friday evening, then, I expect to be in Paris; a day longer here, and I shall go mad or die! My Scotch ladies are good, but so tedious that--God have mercy on us! They have so attached themselves to me that I cannot easily get rid of them; only Princess Marcelline [Czartoryska] and her family, and the excellent Szulczewski keep me alive. Have fires lighted in all rooms and the dust removed--perhaps I may yet recover. --Yours ever, FREDERICK. 

Mr. Niedzwiecki told me that he travelled with Chopin, who wasaccompanied by his servant, from London to Paris. 

[FOOTNOTE: Leonard Niedzwiecki, born in the Kingdom of Poland in1807, joined the National Army in 1830, distinguished himself onseveral battlefields, came in 1832 as a refugee to England, madethere a livelihood by literary work and acted as honorarylibrarian of the Literary Association of the friends of Poland, left about 1845 London for Paris and became Private Secretary, first to General Count Ladislas Zamoyski, and after the Count'sdeath to the widowed Countess. M. Niedzwiecki, who is alsolibrarian of the Polish Library at Paris, now devotes all histime to historical and philological research. ]

The three had a compartment to themselves. During the journey theinvalid suffered greatly from frequent attacks of breathlessness. Chopin was delighted when he saw Boulogne. How hateful Englandand the English were to him is shown by the following anecdote. When they had left Boulogne and Chopin had been for some timelooking at the landscape through which they were passing, he saidto Mr. Niedzwiecki: "Do you see the cattle in this meadow? Ca aplus d'intelligence que les Anglais. " Let us not be wroth at poorChopin: he was then irritated by his troubles, and alwaysanything but a cosmopolitan. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

DETERIORATION OF CHOPIN'S STATE OF HEALTH. --TWO LETTERS. --REMOVESFROM THE SQUARE D'ORLEANS TO THE RUE CHAILLOT. --PECUNIARYCIRCUMSTANCES. --A CURIOUS STORY. --REMINISCENCES AND LETTERSCONNECTED WITH CHOPIN'S STAY IN THE RUE CHAILLOT. --REMOVES TO NO. 12, PLACE VENDOME. --LAST DAYS, AND DEATH. --FUNERAL. --LAST RESTING-PLACE. --MONUMENT AND COMMEMORATION IN 1850. 

The physical condition in which we saw Chopin in the precedingchapter was not the outcome of a newly-contracted disease, butonly an acuter phase of that old disease from which he had beensuffering more or less for at least twelve years, and which inall probability he inherited from his father, who like himselfdied of a chest and heart complaint. [FOOTNOTE: My authority forthis statement is Dr. Lyschinski, who must have got hisinformation either from Chopin himself or his mother. ThatChopin's youngest sister, Emilia, died of consumption in earlylife cannot but be regarded as a significant fact. ] Long beforeChopin went in search of health to Majorca, ominous symptomsshowed themselves; and when he returned from the south, he wasonly partly restored, not cured. 

 My attachment [writes George Sand in "Ma Vie"] could work this miracle of making him a little calm and happy, only because God had approved of it by preserving a little of his health. He declined, however, visibly, and I knew no longer what remedies to employ in order to combat the growing irritation of his nerves. The death of his friend Dr. Matuszynski, then that of his own father, [FOOTNOTE: Nicholas Chopin died on May 3, 1844. About Matuszynski's death see page 158. ] were to him two terrible blows. The Catholic dogma throws on death horrible terrors. Chopin, instead of dreaming for these pure souls a better world, had only dreadful visions, and I was obliged to pass very many nights in a room adjoining his, always ready to rise a hundred times from my work in order to drive away the spectres of his sleep and wakefulness. The idea of his own death appeared to him accompanied with all the superstitious imaginings of Slavonic poetry. As a Pole he lived under the nightmare of legends. The phantoms called him, clasped him, and, instead of seeing his father and his friend smile at him in the ray of faith, he repelled their fleshless faces from his own and struggled under the grasp of their icy hands. 

But a far more terrible blow than the deaths of his friend andhis father was his desertion by George Sand, and we may be surethat it aggravated his disease a hundredfold. To be convinced ofthis we have only to remember his curse on Lucrezia (see theletter to Grzymala of November 17-18, 1848). 

Jules Janin, in an obituary notice, says of Chopin that "he livedten years, ten miraculous years, with a breath ready to fly away"(il a vecu dix ans, dix ans de miracle, d'un souffle pret as'envoler). Another writer remarks: "In seeing him [Chopin] sopuny, thin, and pale, one thought for a. Long time that he wasdying, and then one got accustomed to the idea that he could livealways so. " Stephen Heller in chatting to me about Chopinexpressed the same idea in different words: "Chopin was oftenreported to have died, so often, indeed, that people would notbelieve the news when he was really dead. " There was in Chopinfor many years, especially since 1837, a constant flux and refluxof life. To repeat another remark of Heller's: "Now he was ill, and then again one saw him walking on the boulevards in a thincoat. " A married sister of Gutmann's remembers that Chopin hadalready, in 1843-4, to be carried upstairs, when he visited hermother, who in that year was staying with her children in Paris;to walk upstairs, even with assistance, would have beenimpossible to him. 

 For a long time [writes M. Charles Gavard] Chopin had been, moving about with difficulty, and only went out to have himself carried to a few faithful friends. He visited them by no means in order that they might share his misery, on the contrary, he seemed even to forget his troubles, and at sight of the family life, and in the midst of the demonstrations of love which he called forth from everyone, he found new impulse and new strength to live. 

 [FOOTNOTE: In a manuscript now before me, containing reminiscences of the last months of Chopin's life. Karasowski, at whose disposal the author placed his manuscript, copies LITERALY, in the twelfth chapter of his Chopin biography, page after page, without the customary quotation marks. ]

Edouard Wolff told me that, in the latter part of Chopin's life, he did not leave the carriage when he had any business atSchlesinger's music-shop; a shopman came out to the composer, whokept himself closely wrapped in his blue mantle. The followingreminiscence is, like some of the preceding ones, somewhat vaguewith regard to time. Stephen Heller met Chopin shortly before thelatter fell ill. On being asked where he was going, Chopinreplied that he was on his way to buy a new carpet, his old onehaving got worn, and then he complained of his legs beginning toswell. And Stephen Heller saw indeed that there were lumps ofswelling. M. Mathias, describing to me his master as he saw himin 1847, wrote: "It was a painful spectacle to see Chopin at thattime; he was the picture of exhaustion--the back bent, the headbowed forward--but always amiable and full of distinction. " ThatChopin was no longer in a condition to compose (he publishednothing after October, 1847), and that playing in public wastorture to him and an effort beyond his strength, we have alreadyseen. But this was not all the misery; he was also unable toteach. Thus all his sources of income were cut off. From Chopin'spupil Madame Rubio (nee Vera de Kologrivof) I learned thatlatterly when her master was ill and could not give many lessons, he sent to her several of his pupils, among whom was also MissStirling, who then came to him only once a week instead ofoftener. But after his return from England Chopin was no longerable to teach at all. [FOOTNOTE: "When languor [son mal delangueur] took hold of him, " relates Henri Blaze de Bury in"Etudes et Souvenirs, " "Chopin gave his lessons, stretched on asofa, having within reach a piano of which he made use fordemonstration. "] This is what Franchomme told me, and he, in thelast years especially, was intimately acquainted with Chopin, andknew all about his financial affairs, of which we shall hear morepresently. 

As we saw from the letter quoted at the end of the last chapter, Chopin took up his quarters in the Square d'Orleans, No. 9. He, however, did not find there the recovery of his health, of whichhe spoke in the concluding sentences. Indeed, Chopin knewperfectly by that time that the game was lost. Hope showedherself to him now and then, but very dimly and doubtfully. Nothing proves the gravity of his illness and his utterprostration so much as the following letters in which he informshis Titus, the dearest friend of his youth, that he cannot go andmeet him in Belgium. 

Chopin to Titus Woyciechowski; Paris, August 20, 1849:--

 Square d'Orleans, Rue St. Lazare, No 9. 

 My dearest friend, --Nothing but my being so ill as I really am could prevent me from leaving Paris and hastening to meet you at Ostend; but I hope that God will permit you to come to me. The doctors do not permit me to travel. I drink Pyrenean waters in my own room. But your presence would do me more good than any kind of medicine. --Yours unto death, FREDERICK. 

 Paris, September 12, 1849. 

 My dear Titus, --I had too little time to see about the permit for your coming here; [FOOTNOTE: As a Russian subject, Woyciechowski required a special permission from the Rusian authorities to visit Paris, which was not readily granted to Poles. ] I cannot go after it myself, for the half of my time I lie in bed. But I have asked one of my friends, who has very great influence, to undertake this for me; I shall not hear anything certain, about it till Saturday. I should have liked to go by rail to the frontier, as far as Valenciennes, to see you again; but the doctors do not permit me to leave Paris, because a few days ago I could not get as far as Ville d'Avraye, near Versailles, where I have a goddaughter. For the same reason they do not send me this winter to a warmer climate. It is, then, illness that retains me; were I only tolerably well I should certainly have visited you in Belgium. 

 Perhaps you may manage to come here. I am not egotistic enough to ask you to come only on my account; for, as I am ill, you would have with me weary hours and disappointments, but, perhaps, also hours of comfort, and of beautiful reminiscences of our youth, and I wish only that our time together may be a time of happiness. --Yours ever, FREDERICK. 

When Chopin wrote the second of the above letters he was stayingin a part of Paris more suitable for summer quarters than theSquare d'Orleans--namely, in the Rue Chaillot, whither he hadremoved in the end of August. 

 The Rue Chaillot [writes M. Charles Gavard] was then a very quiet street, where one thought one's self rather in the province than in the capital. A large court-yard led to Chopin's apartments on the second story and with a view of Paris, which can be seen from the height of Chaillot. 

The friends who found these apartments for the invalid composermade him believe that the rent was only 200 francs. But inreality it was 400 francs, and a Russian lady, CountessObreskoff, [FOOTNOTE: Madame Rubio, differing in this oneparticular from Franchomme, said that Chopin paid 100 francs andCountess Obreskoff 200. ] paid one half of it. When Chopinexpressed surprise at the lowness of the rent, he was told thatlodgings were cheap in summer. 

This last story prompts me to say a few words about Chopin'specuniary circumstances, and naturally leads me to another story, one more like romance than reality. Chopin was a bad manager, orrather he was no manager at all. He spent inconsiderately, andneglecting to adapt his expenditure to his income, he was againand again under the necessity of adapting his income to hisexpenditure. Hence those borrowings of money from friends, thosehigglings with and dunnings of publishers, in short, all thosemeannesses which were unworthy of so distinguished an artist, andirreconcilable with his character of grand seigneur. Chopin'sincome was more than sufficient to provide him with allreasonable comforts; but he spent money like a giddy-headed, capricious woman, and unfortunately for him had not a fond fatheror husband to pay the debts thus incurred. Knowing in what anunsatisfactory state his financial affairs were when he wasearning money by teaching and publishing, we can have nodifficulty in imagining into what straits he must have beendriven by the absolute cessation of work and the consequentcessation of income. The little he had saved in England andScotland was soon gone, gone unawares; indeed, the discovery ofthe fact came to him as a surprise. What was to be done?Franchomme, his right hand, and his head too, in business andmoney matters--and now, of course, more than ever--was at hiswits' end. He discussed the disquieting, threatening problem withsome friends of Chopin, and through one of them the composer'sdestitution came to the knowledge of Miss Stirling. She cut theGordian knot by sending her master 25, 000 francs. [FOOTNOTE: M. Charles Gavard says 20, 000 francs. ] This noble gift, however; didnot at once reach the hands of Chopin. When Franchomme, who knewwhat had been done, visited Chopin a few days afterwards, theinvalid lamented as on previous occasions his impecuniosity, andin answer to the questions of his astonished friend stated thathe had received nothing. The enquiries which were forthwith seton foot led to the envelope with the precious enclosure beingfound untouched in the clock of the portiere, who intentionallyor unintentionally had omitted to deliver it. The story is toldin various ways, the above is the skeleton of apparently solidfacts. I will now make the reader acquainted with the hithertounpublished account of Madame Rubio, who declared solemnly thather version was correct in every detail. Franchomme's version, asgiven in Madame Audley's book on Chopin, differs in severalpoints from that of Madame Rubio; I shall, therefore, reproduceit for comparison in a foot-note. 

One day in 1849 Franchomme came to Madame Rubio, and said thatsomething must be done to get money for Chopin. Madame Rubiothereupon went to Miss Stirling to acquaint her with the state ofmatters. When Miss Stirling heard of Chopin's want of money, shewas amazed, and told her visitor that some time before she had, without the knowledge of anyone, sent Chopin 25, 000 francs in apacket which, in order to conceal the sender, she got addressedand sealed in a shop. The ladies made enquiries as to thewhereabouts of the money, but without result. A Scotch gentleman, a novelist (Madame Rubio had forgotten the name at the time shetold the story, but was sure she would recall it, and no doubtwould have done so, had not her sudden death soon after[FOOTNOTE: In the summer of 1880] intervened), proposed toconsult the clairvoyant Alexandre. [FOOTNOTE: Madame Rubio alwayscalled the clairvoyant thus. See another name farther on. ] Thelatter on being applied to told them that the packet along with aletter had been delivered to the portiere who had it then in herpossession, but that he could not say more until he got some ofher hair. One evening when the portiere was bathing Chopin'sfeet, he--who had in the meantime been communicated with--talkedto her about her hair and asked her to let him cut off one lock. She allowed him to do so, and thus Alexandre was enabled to saythat the money was in the clock in the portiere's room. Havinggot this information, they went to the woman and asked her forthe packet. She turned pale, and, drawing it out of the clock, said that at the time she forgot to give it to Chopin, and whenshe remembered it afterwards was afraid to do so. The packet ofnotes was unopened. Madame Rubio supposed that the portierethought Chopin would soon die and that then she might keep thecontents of the parcel. 

[FOOTNOTE: After relating that an intimate friend of Chopin'stold Miss Stirling of the latter's straitened circumstances, received from her bank-notes to the amount of 25, 000 francs, andhanded them enclosed in an envelope to the master's portiere withthe request to deliver the packet immediately to its address, Madame Audley proceeds with her story (which Franchomme's deathprevented me from verifying) thus: "Here, then, was a gleam oflight in this darkened sky, and the reassured friends breathedmore freely. " "But what was my surprise, " said M. Franchomme, fromwhom I have the story, "when some time after I heard Chopin renewhis complaints and speak of his distress in the most poignantterms. Becoming impatient, and being quite at a loss as to whatwas going on, I said at last to him: "But, my dear friend, youhave no cause to torment yourself, you can wait for the return ofyour health, you have money now!"--"I, money!" exclaimed Chopin;"I have nothing. "--"How! and these 25, 000 francs which were sentyou lately?"--"25, 000 francs? Where are they? Who sent them tome? I have not received a sou!"--"Ah! really, that is too bad!"Great commotion among the friends. It was evident that the moneygiven to the portiere had not arrived at its destination; but howto be assured of this? and what had become of it? Here was acurious enough fact, as if a little of the marvellous must alwaysbe mingled with Chopin's affairs. Paris at that time possessed amuch run-after clairvoyant, the celebrated Alexis; they thoughtof going to consult him. But to get some information it wasnecessary to put him en rapport, directly or indirectly, with theperson suspected. Now this person was, naturally, the portiere. By ruse or by address they got hold of a little scarf that shewore round her neck and placed it in the hands of theclairvoyant. The latter unhesitatingly declared that the 25, 000francs were behind the looking-glass in the loge. The friend whohad brought them immediately presented himself to claim them; andour careful portiere, fearing, no doubt, the consequences of atoo prolonged sequestration, drew the packet from behind theclock and held it out to him, saying: 'Eh bien, la v'la, vot'lettre!'"]

Chopin, however, refused to accept the whole of the 25, 000francs. According to Madame Rubio, he kept only 1, 000 francs, returning the rest to Miss Stirling, whilst Franchomme, on theother hand, said that his friend kept 12, 000 francs. 

During Chopin's short stay in the Rue Chaillot, M. CharlesGavard, then a very young man, in fact, a youth, spent much ofhis time with the suffering composer:--

 The invalid [he writes] avoided everything that could make me sad, and, to shorten the hours which we passed together, generally begged me to take a book out of his library and to read to him. For the most part he chose some pages out of Voltaire's Dictionnaire Philosophique. He valued very highly the finished form of that clear and concise language, and that so sure judgment on questions of taste. Thus, for instance, I remember that the article on taste was one of the last I read to him. 

What M. Gavard says of how slowly, in pain, and often inloneliness, the hours passed for Chopin in the spacious, rooms ofhis lodgings in the Rue Chaillot, reminds me of a passage inHector Berlioz's admirable article on his friend in the Journaldes Debats (October 27, 1849):--

 His weakness and his sufferings had become so great that he could no longer either play the piano or compose; even the slightest conversation fatigued him in an alarming manner. He endeavoured generally to make himself understood as far as possible by signs. Hence the kind of isolation in which he wished to pass the last months of his life, an isolation which many people wrongly interpreted--some attributing it to a scornful pride, others to a melancholic temper, the one as well as the other equally foreign to the character of this, charming artist. 

During his stay in the Rue Chaillot Chopin wrote the followingnote and letter to Franchomme:--

 Dear friend, --Send me a little of your Bordeaux. I must take a little wine to-day, and have none. How distrustful I am! Wrap up the bottle, and put your seal on it. For these porters! And I do not know who will take charge of this commission. 

 Yours, with all my heart. 

 Sunday after your departure, September 17, 1849. 

 Dear friend, --I am very sorry that you were not well at Le Mans. Now, however, you are in Touraine, whose sky will have been more favourable to you. I am less well rather than better. MM. Cruveille, Louis, and Blache have had a consultation, and have come to the conclusion that I ought not to travel, but only to take lodgings in the south and remain at Paris. After much seeking, very dear apartments, combining all the desired conditions, have been found in the Place Vendome, No. 12. Albrecht has now his offices there. Meara [FOOTNOTE: This is a very common French equivalent for O'Meara. ] has been of great help to me in the search for the apartments. In short, I shall see you all next winter--well housed; my sister remains with me, unless she is urgently required in her own country. I love you, and that is all I can tell you, for I am overcome with sleep and weakness. My sister rejoices at the idea of seeing Madame Franchomme again, and I also do so most sincerely. This shall be as God wills. Kindest regards to M. And Madame Forest. How much I should like to be some days with you! Is Madame de Lauvergeat also at the sea- side? Do not forget to remember me to her, as well as to M. De Lauvergeat. Embrace your little ones. Write me a line. Yours ever. My sister embraces Madame Franchomme. 

After a stay of less than six weeks Chopin removed from the RueChaillot to the apartments in No. 12, Place Vendome, which M. Albrecht and Dr. O'Meara had succeeded in finding for him. Aboutthis time Moscheles came to Paris. Of course he did not fail toinquire after his brother-artist and call at his house. WhatMoscheles heard and thought may be gathered from the followingentry in his diary:-"Unfortunately, we heard of Chopin's criticalcondition, made ourselves inquiries, and found all the sad newsconfirmed. Since he has been laid up thus, his sister has beenwith him. Now the days of the poor fellow are numbered, hissufferings great. Sad lot!" Yes, Chopin's condition had become sohopeless that his relations had been communicated with, and hissister, Louisa Jedrzejewicz, [FOOTNOTE: The same sister whovisited him in 1844, passed on that occasion also some time atNohant, and subsequently is mentioned in a letter of Chopin's toFranchomme. ] accompanied by her husband and daughter, had lost notime in coming from Poland to Paris. For the comfort of herpresence he was, no doubt, thankful. But he missed and deploredvery much during his last illness the absence of his old, trustedphysician, Dr. Molin, who had died shortly after the composer'sreturn from England. 

The accounts of Chopin's last days--even if we confine ourselvesto those given by eye-witnesses--are a mesh of contradictionswhich it is impossible to wholly disentangle. I shall do my best, but perhaps the most I can hope for is to avoid making confusionworse confounded. 

In the first days of October Chopin was already in such acondition that unsupported he could not sit upright. His sisterand Gutmann did not leave him for a minute, Chopin holding a handof the latter almost constantly in one of his. By the 15th ofOctober the voice of the patient had lost its sonority. It was onthis day that took place the episode which has so often andvariously been described. The Countess Delphine Potocka, betweenwhom and Chopin existed a warm friendship, and who then happenedto be at Nice, was no sooner informed of her friend's fatalillness than she hastened to Paris. 

 When the coming of this dear friend was announced to Chopin [relates M. Gavard], he exclaimed: "Therefore, then, has God delayed so long to call me to Him; He wished to vouchsafe me yet the pleasure of seeing you. " Scarcely had she stepped up to him when he expressed the wish that she should let him hear once more the voice which he loved so much. When the priest who prayed beside the bed had granted the request of the dying man, the piano was moved from the adjoining room, and the unhappy Countess, mastering her sorrow and suppressing tier sobs, had to force herself to sing beside the bed where her friend was exhaling his life. I, for my part, heard nothing; I do not know what she sang. This scene, this contrast, this excess of grief had over-powered my-sensibility; I remember only the moment when the death-rattle of the departing one interrupted the Countess in the middle of the second piece. The instrument was quickly removed, and beside the bed remained only the priest who said the prayers for the dying, and the kneeling friends around him. 

However, the end was not yet come, indeed, was not to come tilltwo days after. M. Gavard, in saying that he did not hear whatthe Countess Potocka sang, acts wisely, for those who pretendedto have heard it contradict each other outright. Liszt andKarasowski, who follows him, say that the Countess sang the Hymnto the Virgin by Stradella, and a Psalm by Marcello; on the otherhand, Gutmann most positively asserted that she sang a Psalm byMarcello and an air by Pergolesi; whereas Franchomme insisted onher having sung an air from Bellini's Beatrice di Tenda, and thatonly once, and nothing else. As Liszt was not himself present, and does not give the authority for his statement, we may set it, and with it Karasowski's, aside; but the two other statements, made as they were by two musicians who were ear witnesses, leaveus in distressing perplexity with regard to what really tookplace, for between them we cannot choose. Chopin, says M. Gavard, looked forward to his death with serenity. 

 Some days after his removal to the Place Vendome, Chopin, sitting upright and leaning on the arm of a friend, remained silent for a long time and seemed lost in deep meditation. Suddenly he broke the silence with the words: "Now my death- struggle begins" [Maintenant j'entre en agonie]. The physician, who was feeling his pulse, wished to comfort him with some commonplace words of hope. But Chopin rejoined with a superiority which admitted of no reply: "God shows man a rare favour when He reveals to him the moment of the approach of death; this grace He shows me. Do not disturb me. "

M. Gavard relates also that on the 16th October Chopin twicecalled his friends that were gathered in his apartments aroundhim. "For everyone he had a touching word; I, for my part, shallnever forget the tender words he spoke to me. " Calling to hisside the Princess Czartoryska and Mdlle. Gavard, [FOOTNOTE: Asister of M. Charles Gavard, the pupil to whom Chopin dedicatedhis Berceuse. ] he said to them: "You will play together, you willthink of me, and I shall listen to you. " And calling to his sideFranchomme, he said to the Princess: "I recommend Franchomme toyou, you will play Mozart together, and I shall listen to you. "[FOOTNOTE: The words are usually reported to have been "Vousjouerez du Mozart en memoire de moi. "] "And, " added Franchommewhen he told me this, "the Princess has always been a good friendto me. "

And George Sand? Chopin, as I have already mentioned, said twodays before his death to Franchomme: "She had said to me that Iwould die in no arms but hers" [Elle n'avait dit que je nemourrais que dans ses bras]. Well, did she not come and fulfilher promise, or, at least, take leave of her friend of manyyears? Here, again, all is contradiction. M. Gavard writes:--

 Among the persons who called and were not admitted was a certain Madame M. , who came in the name of George Sand--who was then much occupied with the impending representation of one of her dramas--to inquire after Chopin's state of health. None of us thought it proper to disturb the last moments of the master by the announcement of this somewhat late remembrance. 

Gutmann, on the other hand, related that George Sand came to thelanding of the staircase and asked him if she might see Chopin;but that he advised her strongly against it, as it was likely toexcite the patient too much. Gutmann, however, seems to have beenby no means sure about this part of his recollections, for on twooccasions he told me that it was Madame Clesinger (George Sand'sdaughter, Solange) who asked if it was advisable for her motherto come. Madame Clesinger, I may say in passing, was one of thosein loving attendance on Chopin, and, as Franchomme told me, present, like himself, when the pianist-composer breathed hislast. From the above we gather, at least, that it is veryuncertain whether Chopin's desire to see George Sand wasfrustrated by her heartlessness or the well-meaning interferenceof his friends. 

During this illness of Chopin a great many of his friends andacquaintances, in fact, too many, pressed forward, ready to be ofuse, anxious to learn what was passing. Happily for the dyingman's comfort, most of them were not allowed to enter the room inwhich he lay. 

 In the back room [writes M. Gavard] lay the poor sufferer, tormented by fits of breathlessness, and only sitting in bed resting in the arms of a friend could he procure air for his oppressed lungs. It was Gutmann, the strongest among us, who knew best how to manage the patient, and who mostly thus supported him. At the head of his bed sat the Princess Marcelline Czartoryska: she never left him, guessing his most secret wishes, nursing him like a sister of mercy with a serene countenance, which did not betray her deep sorrow. Other friends gave a helping hand or relieved her, everyone according to his power; but most of them stayed in the two adjoining rooms. Everyone had assumed a part; everyone helped as much as he could: one ran to the doctors, to the apothecary; another introduced the persons asked for; a third shut the door on the intruders. To be sure, many who had anything but free entrance came, and called to take leave of him just as if he were about to start on a journey. This anteroom of the dying man, where every one of us hopelessly waited and watched, was like a guard-house or a camp. 

M. Gavard probably exaggerates the services of the PrincessCzartoryska, but certainly forgets those of the composer'ssister. Liszt, no doubt, comes nearer the truth when he says thatamong those who assembled in the salon adjoining Chopin'sbedroom, and in turn came to him and watched his gestures andlooks when he had lost his speech, the Princess MarcellineCzartoryska was the most assiduous. 

 She passed every day a couple of hours with the dying man. She left him at the last only after having prayed for a long time beside him who had just then fled from this world of illusions and sorrows. .. . 

After a bad night Chopin felt somewhat better on the morning ofthe 16th. By several authorities we are informed that on thisday, the day after the Potocka episode, the artist received thesacrament which a Polish priest gave him in the presence of manyfriends. Chopin got worse again in the evening. While the priestwas reading the prayers for the dying, he rested silently andwith his eyes closed upon Gutmann's shoulder; but at the end ofthe prayers he opened his eyes wide and said with a loud voice:"Amen. "

The Polish priest above mentioned was the Abbe AlexanderJelowicki. Liszt relates that in the absence of the Polish priestwho was formerly Chopin's confessor, the Abbe called on hiscountryman when he heard of his condition, although they had notbeen on good terms for years. Three times he was sent away bythose about Chopin without seeing him. But when he had succeededin informing Chopin of his wish to see him, the artist receivedhim without delay. After that the Abbe became a daily visitor. One day Chopin told him that he had not confessed for many years, he would do so now. When the confession was over and the lastword of the absolution spoken, Chopin embraced his confessor withboth arms a la polonaise, and exclaimed: "Thanks! Thanks! Thanksto you I shall not die like a pig. " That is what Liszt tells ushe had from Abbe Jelowicki's own lips. In the account which thelatter has himself given of how Chopin was induced by him toreceive the sacrament, induced only after much hesitation, hewrites:--

 Then I experienced an inexpressible joy mixed with an indescribable anguish. How should I receive this precious soul so as to give it to God? I fell on my knees, and cried to God with all the energy of my faith: "You alone receive it, O my God!" And I held out to Chopin the image of the crucified Saviour, pressing it firmly in his two hands without saying a word. Then fell from his eyes big tears. "Do you believe?" I asked him. --"I believe. "--"Do you believe as your mother taught you?"--"As my mother taught me. " And, his eyes fixed on the image of his Saviour, he confessed while shedding torrents of tears. Then he received the viaticum and the extreme unction which he asked for himself. After a moment he desired that the sacristan should be given twenty times more than was usually given to him. When I told him that this would be far too much, he replied: "No, no, this is not too much, for what I have received is priceless. " From this moment, by God's grace, or rather under the hand of God Himself, he became quite another, and one might almost say he became a saint. On the same day began the death-struggle, which lasted four days and four nights. His patience and resignation to the will of God did not abandon him up to the last minute. .. . 

When Chopin's last moments approached he took "nervous cramps"(this was Gutmann's expression in speaking of the matter), andthe only thing which seemed to soothe him was Gutmann's claspinghis wrists and ankles firmly. Quite near the end Chopin wasinduced to drink some wine or water by Gutmann, who supported himin his arms while holding the glass to his lips. Chopin drank, and, sinking back, said "Cher ami!" and died. Gutmann preservedthe glass with the marks of Chopin's lips on it till the end ofhis life. 

[FOOTNOTE: In B. Stavenow's sketch already more than once alludedto by me, we read that Chopin, after having wetted his lips withthe water brought him by Gutmann, raised the latter's hand, kissed it, and with the words "Cher ami!" breathed his last inthe arms of his pupil, whose sorrow was so great that CountGryzmala was obliged to lead him out of the room. Liszt's accountis slightly different. "Who is near me?" asked Chopin, with ascarcely audible voice. He bent his head to kiss the hand ofGutmann who supported him, giving up his soul in this last proofof friendship and gratitude. He died as he had lived, loving. ]

M. Gavard describes the closing hours of Chopin's life asfollows:--

 The whole evening of the 16th passed in litanies; we gave the responses, but Chopin remained silent. Only from his difficult breathing could one perceive that he was still alive. That evening two doctors examined him. One of them, Dr. Cruveille, took a candle, and, holding it before Chopin's face, which had become quite black from suffocation, remarked to us that the senses had already ceased to act. But when he asked Chopin whether he suffered, we heard, still quite distinctly, the answer "No longer" [Plus]. This was the last word I heard from his lips. He died painlessly between three and four in the morning [of October 17, 1849]. When I saw him some hours afterwards, the calm of death had given again to his countenance the grand character which we find in the mould taken the same day [by Clesinger], and still more in the simple pencil sketch which was drawn by the hand of a friend, M. Kwiatkowski. This picture of Chopin is the one I like best. 

Liszt, too, reports that Chopin's face resumed an unwonted youth, purity, and calm; that his youthful beauty so long eclipsed bysuffering reappeared. Common as the phenomenon is, there can benothing more significant, more impressive, more awful, than thisthrowing-off in death of the marks of care, hardship, vice, anddisease--the corruption of earthly life; than this return to theinnocence, serenity, and loveliness of a first and better nature;than this foreshadowing of a higher and more perfect existence. Chopin's love of flowers was not forgotten by those who hadcherished and admired him now when his soul and body were parted. "The bed on which he lay, " relates Liszt, "the whole room, disappeared under their varied colours; he seemed to repose in agarden. " It was a Polish custom, which is not quite obsolete evennow, for the dying to choose for themselves the garments in whichthey wished to be dressed before being laid in the coffin(indeed, some people had their last habiliments prepared longbefore the approach of their end); and the pious, more especiallyof the female sex, affected conventual vestments, men generallypreferring their official attire. That Chopin chose for his grave-clothes his dress-suit, his official attire, in which hepresented himself to his audiences in concert-hall and salon, cannot but be regarded as characteristic of the man, and isperhaps more significant than appears at first sight. But I oughtto have said, it would be if it were true that Chopin reallyexpressed the wish. M. Kwiatkowski informed me that this was notso. 

For some weeks after, from the 18th October onwards, the Frenchpress occupied itself a good deal with the deceased musician. There was not, I think, a single Paris paper of note which didnot bring one or more long articles or short notes regretting theloss, describing the end, and estimating the man and artist. Butthe phenomenal ignorance, exuberance of imagination, and audacityof statement, manifested by almost every one of the writers ofthese articles and notes are sufficient to destroy one's faith injournalism completely and for ever. Among the offenders were menof great celebrity, chief among them Theophile Gautier(Feuilleton de la Presse, November 5, 1849) and Jules Janin(Feuilleton du Journal des Debuts, October 22, 1849), thelatter's performance being absolutely appalling. Indeed, if wemust adjudge to French journalists the palm for gracefulness andsprightliness, we cannot withhold it from them forunconscientiousness. Some of the inventions of journalism, Isuspect, were subsequently accepted as facts, in some casesperhaps even assimilated as items of their experience, by thefriends of the deceased, and finally found their way intoAUTHENTIC biography. One of these myths is that Chopin expressedthe wish that Mozart's Requiem should be performed at hisfuneral. Berlioz, one of the many journalists who wrote at thetime to this effect, adds (Feuilleton du Journal des Debuts, October 27, 1849) that "His [Chopin's] worthy pupil received thiswish with his last sigh. " Unfortunately for Berlioz and thispretty story, Gutmann told me that Chopin did not express such awish; and Franchomme made to me the same statement. Must, [Imust, however, not omit to mention here that M. Charles Gavardsays that Chopin drew up the programme of his funeral, and askedthat on that occasion Mozart's Requiem should be performed. ] Alsothe story about Chopin's wish to be buried beside Bellini is, according to the latter authority, a baseless invention. This isalso the place to dispose of the question: What was done withChopin's MSS. ? The reader may know that the composer is said tohave caused all his MSS. To be burnt. Now, this is not true. FromFranchomme I learned that what actually took place was this. Pleyel asked Chopin what was to be done with the MSS. Chopinreplied that they were to be distributed among his friends, thatnone were to be published, and that fragments were to bedestroyed. Of the pianoforte school which Chopin is said to havehad the intention to write, nothing but scraps, if anything, canhave been found. 

M. Gavard pere made the arrangements for the funeral, which, owing to the extensiveness of the preparations, did not takeplace till the 3Oth of October. Ready assistance was given by M. Daguerry, the curate of the Madeleine, where the funeral servicewas to be held; and thanks to him permission was received for theintroduction of female singers into the church, without whom theperformance of Mozart's Requiem would have been an impossibility. 

 Numerous equipages [says Eugene Guinot in the Feuilleton du Siecle of November 4] encumbered last Tuesday the large avenues of the Madeleine church, and the crowd besieged the doors of the Temple where one was admitted only on presenting a letter of invitation. Mourning draperies announced a funeral ceremony, and in seeing this external pomp, this concourse of carriages and liveried servants, and this privilege which permitted only the elect to enter the church, the curious congregated on the square asked: "Who is the great lord [grand seigneur] whom they are burying?" As if there were still grands seigneurs! Within, the gathering was brilliant; the elite of Parisian society, all the strangers of distinction which Paris possesses at this moment, were to be found there. .. 

Many writers complain of the exclusiveness which seems to havepresided at the sending out of invitations. M. Guinot remarks inreference to this point:

 His testamentary executors [executrices] organised this solemnity magnificently. But, be it from premeditation or from forgetfulness, they completely neglected to invite to the ceremony most of the representatives of the musical world. Members of the Institute, celebrated artists, notable writers, tried in vain to elude the watch-word [consigne] and penetrate into the church, where the women were in a very great majority. Some had come from London, Vienna, and Berlin. 

In continuation of my account of the funeral service I shallquote from a report in the Daily News of November 2, 1849:--

 The coffin was under a catafalque which stood in the middle of the area. The semicircular space behind the steps of the altar was screened by a drapery of black cloth, which being festooned towards the middle, gave a partial view of the vocal and instrumental orchestra, disposed not in the usual form of a gradual ascent from the front to the back, but only on the level of the floor. .. . 

 The doors of the church were opened at eleven o'clock, and at noon (the time fixed for the commencement of the funeral service) the vast area was filled by an assembly of nearly three thousand persons, all of whom had received special invitations, as being entitled from rank, from station in the world of art and literature, or from friendship for the lamented deceased, to be present on so solemn and melancholy an occasion. 

A trustworthy account of the whole ceremony, and especially aclear and full report of the musical part of the service, we findin a letter from the Paris correspondent of The Musical World(November 10, 1849). I shall quote some portions of this letter, accompanying them with elucidatory and supplementary notes:--

 The ceremony, which took place on Tuesday (the 30th ult. ), at noon, in the church of the Madeleine, was one of the most imposing we ever remember to have witnessed. The great door of the church was hung with black curtains, with the initials of the deceased, "F. C. , " emblazoned in silver. On our entry we found the vast area of the modern Parthenon entirely crowded. Nave, aisles, galleries, &c. , were alive with human beings who had come to see the last of Frederick Chopin. Many, perhaps, had never heard of him before. .. . In the space that separates the nave from the choir, a lofty mausoleum had been erected, hung with black and silver drapery, with the initials "F. C. " emblazoned on the pall. At noon the service began. The orchestra and chorus (both from the Conservatoire, with M. Girard as conductor and the principal singers (Madame Viardot- Garcia, Madame Castellan, Signor Lablache, and M. Alexis Dupont)) were placed at the extreme end of the church, a black drapery concealing them from view. 

 [FOOTNOTE: This statement is confirmed by one in the Gazette musicals, where we read that the members of the Societe des Concerts "have made themselves the testamentary executors of this wish"--namely, to have Mozart's Requiem performed. Madame Audley, misled, I think, by a dubious phrase of Karasowski's, that has its origin in a by no means dubious phrase of Liszt's, says that Meyerbeer conducted (dirigeait l'ensemble). Liszt speaks of the conducting of the funeral procession. ]

 When the service commenced the drapery was partially withdrawn and exposed the male executants to view, concealing the women, whose presence, being uncanonical, was being felt, not seen. A solemn march was then struck up by the band, during the performance of which the coffin containing the body of the deceased was slowly carried up the middle of the nave. .. As soon as the coffin was placed in the mausoleum, Mozart's Requiem was begun. .. The march that accompanied the body to the mausoleum was Chopin's own composition from his first pianoforte sonata, instrumented for the orchestra by M. Henri Reber. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Op. 35, the first of those then published, but in reality his second, Op. 4 being the first. Meyerbeer afterwards expressed to M. Charles Gavard his surprise that he had not been asked to do the deceased the homage of scoring the march. ]

 During the ceremony M. Lefebure-Wely, organist of the Madeleine, performed two of Chopin's preludes [FOOTNOTE: Nos. 4 and 6, in E and B minor] upon the organ. .. After the service M. Wely played a voluntary, introducing themes from Chopin's compositions, while the crowd dispersed with decorous gravity. The coffin was then carried from the church, all along the Boulevards, to the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise-a distance of three miles at least--Meyerbeer and the other chief mourners, who held the cords, walking on foot, bareheaded. 

 [FOOTNOTE: Liszt writes that Meyerbeer and Prince Adam Czartoryski conducted the funeral procession, and that Prince Alexander Czartoryski, Delacroix, Franchomme, and Gutmann were the pall-bearers. Karasowski mentions the same gentlemen as pall-bearers; Madame Audley, on the other hand, names Meyerbeer instead of Gutmann. Lastly, Theophile Gautier reported in the Feuilleton de la Presse of November 5, 1849, that MM. Meyerbeer, Eugene Delacroix, Franchomme, and Pleyel held the cords of the pall. The Gazette musicale mentions Franchomme, Delacroix, Meyerbeer, and Czartoryski. ]

 A vast number of carriages followed. .. 

 [FOOTNOTE: "Un grand nombre de voitures de deuil et de voitures particulieres, " we read in the Gazette musicals, "ont suivi jusqu'au cimetiere de l'Est, dit du Pere-Lachaise, le pompeux corbillard qui portait le corps du defunt. L'elite des artistes de Paris lui a servi de cortege. Plusieurs dames, ses eleves, en grand deuil, ont suivi le convoi, a pied, jusqu'au champ de repos, ou l'artiste eminent, convaincu, a eu pour oraisons funebres des regrets muets, profondement sentis, qui valent mieux que des discours dans lesquels perce toujours une vanite d'auteur ou d'orateur"]

 At Pere-Lachaise, in one of the most secluded spots, near the tombs of Habeneck and Marie Milanollo, the coffin was deposited in a newly-made grave. The friends and admirers took a last look, ladies in deep mourning threw garlands and flowers upon the coffin, and then the gravedigger resumed his work. .. The ceremony was performed in silence. 

One affecting circumstance escaped the attention of our otherwiseso acute observer--namely, the sprinkling on the coffin, when thelatter had been lowered into the grave, of the Polish earthwhich, enclosed in a finely-wrought silver cup, loving friendshad nearly nineteen years before, in the village of Wola, nearWarsaw, given to the departing young and hopeful musician who wasnever to see his country again. 

Chopin's surroundings at Pere-Lachaise are most congenial. Indeed, the neighbourhood forms quite a galaxy of musical talent--close by lie Cherubini, Bellini, Gretry, Boieldieu, Bocquillon-Wilhem, Louis Duport, and several of the Erard family; fartheraway, Ignace Pleyel, Rodolphe Kreutzer, Pierre Galin, AugustePanseron, Mehul, and Paer. Some of these, however, had not yet atthat time taken possession of their resting-places there, andBellini has since then (September 15, 1876) been removed by hiscompatriots, to his birthplace, Catania, in Sicily. 

Not the whole of Chopin's body, however, was buried at Pere-Lachaise; his heart was conveyed to his native country and ispreserved in the Holy Cross Church at Warsaw, where at the end of1879 or beginning of 1880 a monument was erected, consisting of amarble bust of the composer in a marble niche. Soon afterChopin's death voluntary contributions were collected, and acommittee under Delacroix's presidence was formed, for theerection of a monument, the execution of which was entrusted toClesinger, the husband of Madame Sand's daughter, Solange. Although the sculptor's general idea is good--a pedestal bearingon its front a medallion, and surmounted by a mourning muse witha neglected lyre in her hand--the realisation leaves much to bedesired. This monument was unveiled in October, 1850, on theanniversary of Chopin's death. 

[FOOTNOTE: On the pedestal of the monument are to be read besidesthe words "A. Frederic Chopin" above the medallion, "Ses amis"under the medallion, and the name of the sculptor and the year ofits production (J. Clesinger, 1850), the following incorrectbiographical data: "Frederic Chopin, ne en Pologne a ZelazowaWola pres de Varsovie: Fils d'un emigre francais, marie a Mile. Krzyzanowska, fille d'un gentilhomme Polonais. ]

The friends of the composer, as we learn from an account in JohnBull (October 26, 1850), assembled in the little chapel of Pere-Lachaise, and after a religious service proceeded with theofficiating priest at their head to Chopin's grave. The monumentwas then unveiled, flowers and garlands were scattered over andaround it, prayers were said, and M. Wolowski, the deputy, [FOOTNOTE: Louis Francois Michel Raymond Wolowski, politicaleconomist, member of the Academie des Sciences Morales, andmember of the Constituante. A Pole by birth, he became anaturalised French subject in 1834. ] endeavoured to make aspeech, but was so much moved that he could only say a few words. 

[FOOTNOTE: In the Gazette muticale of October 20, 1850, we read:"Une messe commemorative a ete dite jeudi dernier [i. E. , on the17th] dans la chapelle du cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise a la memoirede Frederic Chopin et pour l'inauguration de son monumentfunebre. "]

The Menestrel of November 3, 1850, informed its readers that inthe course of the week (it was on the 3Oth October at eleveno'clock) an anniversary mass had been celebrated at the Madeleinein honour of Chopin, at which from two to three hundred of hisfriends were present, and that Franchomme on the violoncello andLefebure-Wely on the organ had played some of the departedmaster's preludes, or, to quote our authority literally, "ontredit aux assistants emus les preludes si pleins de melancolie deI'illustre defunt. "

EPILOGUE. 

We have followed Chopin from his birthplace, Zelazowa Wola, toWarsaw, where he passed his childhood and youth, and received hismusical as well as his general education; we have followed him inhis holiday sojourns in the country, and on his more distantjourneys to Reinerz, Berlin, and Vienna; we have followed himwhen he left his native country and, for further improvement, settled for a time in the Austrian capital; we have followed himsubsequently to Paris, which thenceforth became his home; and wehave followed him to his various lodgings there and on thejourneys and in the sojourns elsewhere--to 27, BoulevardPoissonniere, to 5 and 38, Chaussee d'Antin, to Aix-la-Chapelle, Carlsbad, Leipzig, Heidelberg, Marienbad, and London, to Majorca, to Nohant, to 5, Rue Tronchet, 16, Rue Pigalle, and 9, Squared'Orleans, to England and Scotland, to 9, Square d'Orleans oncemore, Rue Chaillot, and 12, Place Vendome; and, lastly, to thePere-Lachaise cemetery. We have considered him as a pupil at theWarsaw Lyceum and as a student of music under the tuition ofZywny and Elsner; we have considered him as a son and as abrother, as a lover and as a friend, as a man of the world and asa man of business; and we have considered him as a virtuoso, as ateacher, and as a composer. Having done all this, there remainsonly one thing for me to do--namely, to summarise the thousandsof details of the foregoing account, and to point out what thisartist was to his and is to our time. But before doing this Iought perhaps to answer a question which the reader may haveasked himself. Why have I not expressed an opinion on the moralaspect of Chopin's connection with George Sand? My explanationshall be brief. I abstained from pronouncing judgment because theincomplete evidence did not seem to me to warrant my doing so. Afull knowledge of all the conditions and circumstances. I hold tobe indispensable if justice is to be done; the rash and ruthlessapplication of precepts drawn from the social conventions of theday are not likely to attain that end. Having done my duty inplacing before the reader the ascertainable evidence, I leave himat liberty to decide on it according to his wisdom and charity. 

Henri Blaze de Bury describes (in Etudes et Souvenirs) theportrait which Ary Scheffer painted of Chopin in these words:--

 It represents him about this epoch [when "neither physical nor moral consumption of any kind prevented him from attending freely to his labours as well as to his pleasures"], slender, and in a nonchalant attitude, gentlemanlike in the highest degree: the forehead superb, the hands of a rare distinction, the eyes small, the nose prominent, but the mouth of an exquisite fineness and gently closed, as if to keep back a melody that wishes to escape. 

M. Marmontel, with, "his [Chopin's] admirable portrait" byDelacroix before him, penned the following description:--

 This is the Chopin of the last years, ailing, broken by suffering; the physiognomy already marked by the last seal [le sceau supreme], the look dreamy, melancholy, floating between heaven and earth, in the limbos of dream and agony. The attenuated and lengthened features are strongly accentuated: the relief stands out boldly, but the lines of the countenance remain beautiful; the oval of the face, the aquiline nose and its harmonious curve, give to this sickly physiognomy the stamp of poetic distinction peculiar to Chopin. 

Poetic distinction, exquisite refinement, and a noble bearing arethe characteristics which strike one in all portraits of Chopin, [FOOTNOTE: See Appendix IV. ] and which struck the beholder stillmore strongly in the real Chopin, where they were reinforced bythe gracefulness of his movements, and by manners that madepeople involuntarily treat him as a prince. .. [FOOTNOTE: See mydescription of Chopin, based on the most reliable information, inChapter XX. ] And pervading and tincturing every part of theharmonious whole of Chopin's presence there was delicacy, whichwas indeed the cardinal factor in the shaping not only of hisoutward conformation, but also of his character, life, and art-practice. Physical delicacy brought with it psychical delicacy, inducing a delicacy of tastes, habits, and manners, which earlyand continued intercourse with the highest aristocracy confirmedand developed. Many of the charming qualities of the man andartist derive from this delicacy. But it is likewise the sourceof some of the deficiencies and weaknesses in the man and artist. His exclusiveness, for instance, is, no doubt, chargeable to thesuperlative sensitiveness which shrank from everything thatfailed to satisfy his fastidious, exacting nature, and becamemore and more morbid as delicacy, of which it was a concomitant, degenerated into disease. Yet, notwithstanding the lack ofrobustness and all it entails, Chopin might have been moderatelyhappy, perhaps even have continued to enjoy moderately goodhealth, if body and soul had been well matched. This, however, was not the case. His thoughts were too big, his passions tooviolent, for the frail frame that held them; and the former grewbigger and more violent as the latter grew frailer and frailer. He could not realise his aspirations, could not compass hisdesires, in short, could not fully assert himself. Here, indeed, we have lit upon the tragic motive of Chopin's life-drama, andthe key to much that otherwise would be enigmatical, certainlynot explicable by delicacy and disease alone. His salonacquaintances, who saw only the polished outside of the man, knewnothing of this disparity and discrepancy; and even the selectfew of his most intimate friends, from whom he was not alwaysable to conceal the irritation that gnawed at his heart, hardlymore than guessed the true state of matters. In fact, had notChopin been an artist, the tale of his life would have for everremained a tale untold. But in his art, as an executant and acomposer, he revealed all his strength and weakness, all hisexcellences and insufficiencies, all his aspirations andfailures, all his successes and disappointments, all his dreamsand realities. 

 Chopin [wrote Anton Schindler in 1841 [FOOTNOTE: Beethoven in Paris, p. 71] is the prince of all pianists, poesy itself at the piano. .. His playing does not impress by powerfulness of touch, by fiery brilliancy, for Chopin's physical condition forbids him every bodily exertion, and spirit and body are constantly at variance and in reciprocal excitement. The cardinal virtue of this great master in pianoforte-playing lies in the perfect truth of the expression of every feeling within his reach [dessen er sich bemeistern darf], which is altogether inimitable and might lead to caricature were imitatior attempted. 

Chopin was not a virtuoso in the ordinary sense of the word. Hissphere was the reunion intime, not the mixed crowd of concertaudiences. If, however, human testimony is worth anything, we maytake it as proven that there never was a pianist whose playingexercised a charm equal to that of Chopin. But, as Liszt hassaid, it is impossible to make those who have not heard himunderstand this subtle, penetrating charm of an ineffable poesy. If words could give an idea of Chopin's playing, it would begiven by such expressions as "legerete impalpable, " "palaisaeriens de la Fata Morgana, " "wundersam und marchenhaft, " andother similar ones used with regard to it by men who may safelybe accepted as authorities. 

As a pianist Chopin was sorely restricted by lack of physicalvigour, which obliged him often to merely suggest, and even toleave not a little wholly unexpressed. His range as a composerwas much wider, as its limits were those of his spirit. Still, Chopin does not number among those masterminds who gather up andgrasp with a strong hand all the acquisitions of the past andpresent, and mould them into a new and glorious synthesis-thehighest achievement possible in art, and not to be accomplishedwithout a liberal share of originality in addition to thecomprehensive power. Chopin, then, is not a compeer of Bach, Handel, Mozart, and Beethoven. But if he does not stand on theirlevel, he stands on a level not far below them. And if theinferiority of his intellectual stamina prevented him fromachieving what they achieved, his delicate sensibility andromantic imagination enabled him to achieve what they weredisqualified from achieving. Of universality there was not atrace in him, but his individuality is one of the mostinteresting. The artistico-historical importance of Chopin liesin his having added new elements to music, originated means ofexpression for the communication and discrimination of moods andemotions, and shades of moods and emotions, that up to his timehad belonged to the realm of the unuttered and unutterable. Notwithstanding the high estimation in which Chopin is held, itseems to me that his importance for the development of the art isnot rated at its full value. His influence on composers for thepianoforte, both as regards style and subject-matter, isgenerally understood; but the same cannot be said of his lessobvious wider influence. Indeed, nothing is more common than tooverlook his connection with the main current of musical historyaltogether, to regard him as a mere hors d'oeuvre in the musicalMENU of the universe. My opinion, on the contrary, is that amongthe notable composers who have lived since the days of Chopinthere is not to be found one who has not profited more or less, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly, by thistruly creative genius. To trace his influence we must transportourselves back fifty or sixty years, and see what the state ofmusic then was, what composers expressed and what means ofexpression they had at their disposal. Much that is now familiar, nay, even commonplace, was then a startling novelty. Theappearance of Chopin was so wonderful a phenomenon that itproduced quite an electrical effect upon Schumann. "Come, " saidBerlioz to Legouve in the first years of the fourth decade ofthis century, "I am going to let you see something which you havenever seen, and someone whom you will never forget. " Thissomething and someone was Chopin. Mendelssohn being questionedabout his enthusiasm for one of this master's preludes replied:"I love it, I cannot tell you how much, or why; except, perhaps, that it is something which I could never have written at all. " Ofcourse, Chopin's originality was not universally welcomed andappreciated. Mendelssohn, for instance, was rather repelled thanattracted by it; at any rate, in his letters there are to befound frequent expressions of antipathy to Chopin's music, whichseemed to him" mannered "(see letter to Moscheles of February 7, 1835). But even the heartless and brainless critic of the MusicalWorld whose nonsense I quoted in Chapter XXXI. Admits that Chopinwas generally esteemed by the "professed classical musicians, "and that the name of the admirers of the master's compositionswas legion. To the early popularity of Chopin's music testifyalso the many arrangements for other instruments (the guitar notexcepted) and even for voices (for instance, OEuvres celebres deChopin, transcrites a une ou deux voix egales par Luigi Bordese)to which his compositions were subjected. This popularity was, however, necessarily limited, limited in extent or intensity. Indeed, popular, in the comprehensive sense of the word, Chopin'scompositions can never become. To understand them fully we musthave something of the author's nature, something of his delicatesensibility and romantic imagination. To understand him we must, moreover, know something of his life and country. For, as Balzactruly remarked, Chopin was less a musician than une ame qui serend sensible. In short, his compositions are the "celestial echoof what he had felt, loved, and suffered"; they are his memoirs, his autobiography, which, like that of every poet, assumes theform of "Truth and Poetry. "

APPENDICES. 

APPENDIX I. 

THE GOLDEN AGE OP POLISH MUSIC. 

(VOL. I. , p. 66. )

As yet it is difficult to speak with any degree of certainty ofthe early musical history of Poland. Our general histories ofmusic have little or nothing to say on the matter, and a specialhistory exists neither in the Polish nor in any other language. The Abbe Joseph Surzynski, who by his labours is endeavouring toremove the reproach of indifference and ignorance now lying onhis countrymen in this respect, says: [FOOTNOTE: In the prefaceto the Monumenta Musices sacra, selected works of the bestcomposers of classical religious music in Poland, published byhim. The first two parts of this publication, respectively issuedin 1885 and 1887, contain compositions by Thomas Szadek, NicolasZielenski, G. G. Gorczycki, Venceslas, Szamotulski, and Sebastianof Felsztyn. ] "The compositions of our old masters are buried inthe archives and libraries--no one cares to make them known tothe public; many Polish musicians, not even supposing that thesecompositions exist, are very far from believing that the authorsof these pieces deserve to be ranked with the best composers ofthe Roman Catholic Church. Now, in studying these works, we findin the century of Palestrina and Vittoria among our artists:Marcin ze Lwowa (Martin Leopolita), Christopher Borek, ThomasSzadek, Venceslas Szamotulski, and especially Zielenski andGomolka--distinguished masters who deserve to be known by thefriends of the musical art, either on account of their altogethernational genius, or on account of their inspiration and theperfection of the forms which manifest themselves in theircompositions. " One of the first illustrious names in the historyof music in Poland is the German Henry Finck, the chapel-masterof the Polish Kings, John Albert (1492-1501) and Alexander (1501-1506). From the fact that this excellent master got his musicaleducation in Poland we may safely conclude--and it is not theonly fact which justifies our doing so--that in that countryalready in the fifteenth century good contrapuntists were to befound. The Abbe Surzynski regards Zielenski as the best of theearly composers, having been impressed both by the profoundreligious inspiration and the classical form of his works. OfGomolka, who has been called the Polish Palestrina as Sebastianof Felsztyn the Polish Goudimel, the Abbe remarks: "Among themagnificent musical works of Martin Leopolita, Szadek, andZielenski, the compositions of Gomolka present themselves likeminiature water-colours, in which, nevertheless, every line, every colour, betrays the painter of genius. His was a talentthoroughly indigenous--his compositions are of great simplicity;no too complicated combinations of parts, one might even say thatthey are homophonous; nevertheless what wealth of thought, whatbeauty of harmony, what profoundness of sentiment do we findthere! These simple melodies clothed in pure and truly holyharmonies, written, as Gomolka said himself, not for theItalians, but for the Poles, who are happy in their own country, are the best specimens of the national style. "In speaking of theearly Polish church music I must not forget to mention the famousCollege of the Roratists, [FOOTNOTE: The duties of these singerswere to sing Rorate masses and Requiem masses for the royalfamily. Their name was derived from the opening word of theIntroit, "Rorate coeli. "] the Polish Sistine Chapel, attached tothe Cracow Cathedral. It was founded in 1543 and subsisted till1760. With the fifteenth of seventeen conductors of the college, Gregor Gorczycki, who died in 1734, passed away the last of theclassical school of Polish church music. Music was diligentlycultivated in the seventeenth century, especially under thereigns of Sigismund III. (1587-1632), and Wladislaw IV. (1632-1648); but no purpose would be served by crowding these pageswith unknown names of musicians about whom only scantyinformation is available; I may, however, mention the familiarnames of three of many Italian composers who, in the seventeenthcentury, like many more of their countrymen, passed a great partof their lives in Poland--namely, Luca Marenzio, AsprilioPacelii, and Marco Scacchi. 

APPENDIX II. 

EARLY PERFORMANCES OF CHOPIN'S WORKS IN GERMANY. 

(VOL. I. , p. 268. )

The first performance of a composition by Chopin at the LeipzigGewandhaus took place on October 27, 1831. It was his Op. 1, thevariations on La ci darem la mano, which Julius Knorr played at aconcert for the benefit of the Pension-fund of the orchestra, butnot so as to give the audience pleasure--at least, this was theopinion of Schumann, as may be seen from his letter to FrederickWieck of January 4, 1832. Chopin relates already on June 5, 1830, that Emilie Belleville knew his variations by heart and hadplayed them in Vienna. Clara Wieck was one of the first whoperformed Chopin's compositions in public. On September 29, 1833, she played at a Leipzig Gewandhaus concert the last movement ofthe E minor Concerto, and on May 5, 1834, in the same hall at anextra concert, the whole work and two Etudes. Further informationabout the introduction and repetitions of Chopin's compositionsat the Leipzig Gewandhaus, is to be found in the statistical part(p. 13) of Alfred Dorffel's Die Gewandhausconcerte. 

APPENDIX III. 

MADAME SCHUMANN ON CHOPIN'S VISIT TO LEIPZIG. 

(VOL. I. , p. 290. )

Through a kind communication from Madame Schumann I have learnedthat Wenzel's account does not quite agree with her diary. Thereshe finds written that her father, Friedrich Wieck, felt offendedbecause Chopin, for whose recognition in Germany he had done somuch, had not called upon him immediately after his arrival. Chopin made his appearance only two hours before his departure, but then did not find Wieck at home, for he, to avoid Chopin, hadgone out and had also taken his daughter Clara with him. WhenWieck returned an hour later, he found unexpectedly Chopin stillthere. Clara had now to play to the visitor. She let him hearSchumann's F sharp minor Sonata, two Etudes by Chopin, and amovement of a Concerto by herself. After this Chopin played his Eflat major Nocturne. By degrees Wieck's wrath subsided, andfinally he accompanied Chopin to the post-house, and parted fromhim in the most friendly mood. 

APPENDIX IV. 

REBECCA DIRICHLET ON CHOPIN AT MARIENBAD. 

(VOL. I. , p. 309. )

When Rebecca Dirichlet came with her husband to Marienbad, shelearnt that Chopin did not show himself, and that his physicianand a Polish countess, who completely monopolised him, did notallow him to play. Having, however, heard so much of his playingfrom her brothers, she was, in order to satisfy her curiosity, even ready to commit the bassesse of presenting herself as thesoeur de Messieurs Paul et Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. As shehumorously wrote a few days later: "The bassesse towards Chopinhas been committed and has completely failed. Dirichlet went tohim, and said that a soeur, &c. --only a mazurka--impossible, malaux nerfs, mauvais piano--et comment se porte cette chere MadameHensel, el Paul est marie? heureux couple, &c. --allez vouspromener--the first and the last time that we do such a thing. "

APPENDIX V. 

PALMA AND VALDEMOSA. 

(VOL. II. , pp. 22-48. )

The Argosy of 1888 contains a series of Letters from Majorca byCharles W. Wood, illustrated by views of Palma, Valdemosa, andother parts of the island. The illustrations in the April numbercomprise a general view of the monastery of Valdemosa, and viewsof one of its courts and of the cloister in which is situated thecell occupied by George Sand and Chopin in the winter of 1838-1839. The cloister has a groined vault, on one side the celldoors, and on the other side, opening on the court, doors andrectangular windows with separate circular windows above them. The letters have been republished in book form (London: Bentleyand Sons). 

APPENDIX VI. 

On Tempo Rubato. 

(VOL. II. , p. 101. )

An earlier practiser of the tempo rubato than the lady mentionedby Quanz (see Vol. II. , p. 101 of this work) was GirolamoFrescobaldi, who speaks of this manner of musical rendering inthe preface to Il primo libra di Capricci fatti sopra diversisogetti et Arie in partitura (1624). An extract from this prefaceis to be found in A. G. Ritter's Zur Geschichte des Orgelspiels, Vol. I. , p. 34. F. X. Haberl remarks in the preface to hiscollection of pieces by Frescobaldi (Leipzig: Breitkopf andHartel): "A chief trait of Frescobaldi's genius is the so-calledtempo rubato, an absolute freedom in the employment of a quickerand slower tempo. "

APPENDIX VII. 

CAROLINE HARTMANN. 

(VOL. II. , p. I7I. )

On page 175 of this volume I made an allusion to Spohr inconnection with Chopin's pupil Caroline Hartmann. To save thecurious reader trouble, I had better point out that theinformation is to be found in Spohr's autobiography under dateMunster, near Colmar, March 26, 1816 (German edition, pp. 245-250; English edition, pp. 229-232). Jacques Hartmann, the fatherof Caroline, was a cotton manufacturer and an enthusiastic loverof music. He had an orchestra consisting of his family andemployes. Spohr calls the father a bassoon-virtuoso; what he saysof the daughter will be seen in the following sentences: "Hissister and his daughter play the pianoforte. The latter, a childeight years old, is the star of the amateur orchestra. She playswith a dexterity and exactness that are worthy of admiration. Iwas still more astonished at her fine ear, with which (away fromthe piano) she recognises the intervals of the most intricate andfull dissonant chords which one strikes, and names the notes ofwhich they consist in their sequence. If the child is wellguided, she is sure to become one day an excellent artist. "

APPENDIX VIII. 

MADAME PERUZZI. 

(VOL. II. , p. 177. )

The reader will be as grateful as I am for the followinginteresting communications of Madame Peruzzi (nee EliseEustaphieve, whose father was Russian Consul-General to theUnited States of America) about her intercourse with Chopin. 

"I first met Chopin at the house of the American banker, SamuelWelles, in Paris, where I, like every one present, was enchantedlistening to his mazurkas, waltzes, nocturnes, &c. , which heplayed on a wretched square piano. I lived as dame en chambre (avery convenient custom for ladies alone), at a pension, or rathera regular boarding-school, with rooms to let for ladies. The ladyof the house was acquainted with many of the musical people, andI had a splendid American grand piano which was placed in thelarge drawing-room of the establishment, so that I felt quite athome, and there received Chopin, Liszt, and Herz (Miss Herz, hissister, gave lessons in the school), and often played four-handpieces with them. 

"My intimacy with Chopin began after my marriage. He often dinedwith us, was very fond of my husband, and after dinner we werenot at home if any one else came, but remained at our two pianos(Erard had sent me one), playing together, and I used to amusehim by picking out of his music little bits that seemed likequestions for him to answer on the other piano. He lived verynear us, so we very often passed mornings at his house, where heasked me to play with him all Weber's duets. This was delightfulto me, the more so, as he complimented me on my reading andentering at first sight into the spirit of the music. He made meacquainted with the beautiful duet of Moscheles, and was thefirst with whom I played Hummel's splendid duet. He was a greatadmirer of Weber. We frequently had morning concerts with doublequartet, and Chopin would very kindly turn the leaves for me. Hewas particularly fond of doing so when I played Hummel's Septet, and was so encouraging. Even when playing to him his own music, he would approve some little thing not indicated and say, 'What agood idea of yours that is!' My husband begged him to give melessons; but he always refused, and did give them; for I studiedso many things with him, among others his two concertos. The onein E minor I once played accompanied by himself on a secondpiano. We passed many pleasant evenings at Mr. And Madame Leo'shouse, a very musical one. Madame Moscheles was a niece oftheirs. Chopin was fond of going there, where he was quite a pet. He always appeared to best advantage among his most intimatefriends. I was one who helped to christen the Berceuse. You askme in what years I knew Chopin, 1838 is the date of themanuscript in my collection which he gave me after I was married, and the last notes of that little jewel he wrote on the desk ofthe piano in our presence. He said it would not be publishedbecause they would play it. .. . Then he would show how they wouldplay it, which was very funny. It came out after his death, it isa kind of waltz-mazurka [the Valse, Op. 69, No. I], Chopin'sintimate friend, Camille Pleyel, called it the story of a D flat, because that note comes in constantly. One morning we tookPaganini to hear Chopin, and he was enchanted; they seemed tounderstand each other so well. When I knew him he was a suffererand would only occasionally play in public, and then place hispiano in the middle of Pleyel's room whilst his admirers werearound the piano. His speciality was extreme delicacy, and hispianissimo extraordinary. Every little note was like a bell, soclear. His fingers seemed to be without any bones; but he wouldbring out certain effects by great elasticity. He got very angryat being accused of not keeping time; calling his left hand hismaitre de chapelle and allowing his right to wander about adlibitum. "

APPENDIX IX. 

MADAME STREICHER'S (nee FRIEDERIKE MULLER) RECOLLECTIONS OFCHOPIN, BASED ON EXTRACTS FROM HER CAREFULLY-KEPT DIARY OF THEYEARS 1839, 1840, AND 1841. (VOL. II. , p. I77. )

In March, 1839, I went to Paris, accompanied by a kind aunt, whowas a highly-cultured musical connoisseur, animated by the wishto get if possible lessons from Chopin, whose compositionsinspired me with enthusiasm. But he was from home and very ill;indeed, it was feared he would not return to Paris even in thewinter. However, at last, at last, in October, 1839, he came. Ihad employed this long time in making myself acquainted with themusical world in Paris, but the more I heard, nay, even admired, the more was my intention to wait till Chopin's return confirmed. And I was quite right. 

On the 30th of October, 1839, we, my kind aunt and I, went tohim. At that time he lived in Rue Tronchet, No. 5. Anxiously Ihanded him my letters of introduction from Vienna, and begged himto take me as a pupil. He said very politely, but very formally:"You have played with applause at a matinee at the house ofCountess Appony, the wife of the Austrian ambassador, and willhardly require my instruction. " I became afraid, for I was wiseenough to understand he had not the least inclination to acceptme as a pupil. I quickly protested that I knew very well I hadstill very, very much to learn. And, I added timidly, I shouldlike to be able to play his wondrously-beautiful compositionswell. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "it would be sad if people were not ina position to play them well without my instruction. " "Icertainly am not able to do so, " I replied anxiously. "Well, playme something, " he said. And in a moment his reserve had vanished. Kindly and indulgently he helped me to overcome my timidity, moved the piano, inquired whether I were comfortably seated, letme play till I had become calm, then gently found fault with mystiff wrist, praised my correct comprehension, and accepted me asa pupil. He arranged for two lessons a week, then turned in themost amiable way to my aunt, excusing himself beforehand if heshould often be obliged to change the day and hour of the lessonon account of his delicate health. His servant would alwaysinform us of this. 

Alas! he suffered greatly. Feeble, pale, coughing much, he oftentook opium drops on sugar and gum-water, rubbed his forehead witheau de Cologne, and nevertheless he taught with a patience, perseverance, and zeal which were admirable. His lessons alwayslasted a full hour, generally he was so kind as to make themlonger. Mikuli says: "A holy artistic zeal burnt in him then, every word from his lips was incentive and inspiring. Singlelessons often lasted literally for hours at a stretch, tillexhaustion overcame master and pupil. " There were for me alsosuch blessed lessons. Many a Sunday I began at one o'clock toplay at Chopin's, and only at four or five o'clock in theafternoon did he dismiss us. Then he also played, and howsplendidly but not only his own compositions, also those of othermasters, in order to teach the pupil how they should beperformed. One morning he played from memory fourteen Preludesand Fugues of Bach's, and when I expressed my joyful admirationat this unparalleled performance, he replied: "Cela ne s'oubliejamais, " and smiling sadly he continued: "Depuis un an je n'aipas etudie un quart d'heure de sante, je n'ai pas de force, pasd'energie, j'attends toujours un peu de sante pour reprendre toutcela, mais. .. J'attends encore. " We always spoke French together, in spite of his great fondness for the German language andpoetry. It is for this reason that I give his sayings in theFrench language, as I heard them from him. In Paris people hadmade me afraid, and told me how Chopin caused Clementi, Hummel, Cramer, Moscheles, Beethoven, and Bach to be studied, but not hisown compositions. This was not the case. To be sure, I had tostudy with him the works of the above-mentioned masters, but healso required me to play to him the new and newest compositionsof Hiller, Thalberg, and Liszt, &c. And already in the firstlesson he placed before me his wondrously--beautiful Preludes andStudies. Indeed, he made me acquainted with many a compositionbefore it had appeared in print. 

I heard him often preluding in a wonderfully-beautiful manner. Onone occasion when he was entirely absorbed in his playing, completely detached from the world, his servant entered softlyand laid a letter on the music-desk. With a cry Chopin left offplaying, his hair stood on end--what I had hitherto regarded asimpossible I now saw with my own eyes. But this lasted only for amoment. 

His playing was always noble and beautiful, his tones alwayssang, whether in full forte, or in the softest piano. He tookinfinite pains to teach the pupil this legato, cantabile way ofplaying. "Il [ou elle] ne sait pas lier deux notes" was hisseverest censure. He also required adherence to the strictestrhythm, hated all lingering and dragging, misplaced rubatos, aswell as exaggerated ritardandos. "Je vous prie de vous asseoir, "he said on such an occasion with gentle mockery. And it is justin this respect that people make such terrible mistakes in theexecution of his works. In the use of the pedal he had likewiseattained the greatest mastery, was uncommonly strict regardingthe misuse of it, and said repeatedly to the pupil: "The correctemployment of it remains a study for life. "

When I played with him the study in C major, the first of thosehe dedicated to Liszt, he bade me practise it in the morningsvery slowly. "Cette etude vous fera du bien, " he said. "Si vousl'etudiez comme je l'entends, cela elargit la main, et cela vousdonne des gammes d'accords, comme les coups d'archet. Maissouvent malheureusement au lieu d'apprendre tout cela, elle faitdesapprendre. " I am quite aware that it is a generally-prevalenterror, even in our day, that one can only play this study wellwhen one possesses a very large hand. But this is not the case, only a supple hand is required. 

Chopin related that in May, 1834, he had taken a trip to Aix-la-Chapelle with Hiller and Mendelssohn. "Welcomed there in a veryfriendly manner, people asked me when I was introduced: 'You are, I suppose, a brother of the pianist?' I answered in theaffirmative, for it amused me, and described my brother thepianist. 'He is tall, strong, has black hair, a black moustache, and a very large hand. '" To those who have seen the slightly-built Chopin and his delicate hand, the joke must have beenexceedingly amusing. 

On the 20th of April, 1840, Liszt, who had come back to Parisafter extended artistic tours, gave a matinee to an invitedaudience in Erard's saloon. He played, as he did always, verybrilliantly, and the next morning I had to give a minute accountto Chopin of what and how he had played. He himself was toounwell to be present. When I spoke of Liszt's artistic self-control and calmness in overcoming the greatest technicaldifficulties, he exclaimed: "Ainsi il parait que mon avis estjuste. La derniere chose c'est la simplicite. Apres avoir epuisetoutes les difficultes, apres avoir joue une immense quantite denotes, et de notes, c'est la simplicite qui sort avec tout soncharme, comme le dernier sceau de l'art. Quiconque veut arriverde suite a cela n'y parviendra jamais, on ne peut commencer parla fin. II faut avoir etudie beaucoup, meme immensement pouratteindre ce but, ce n'est pas une chose facile. II m'etaitimpossible, " he continued, "d'assister a sa matinee. Avec masante ou ne peut rien faire. Je suis toujours embrouille avec mesaffaires, de maniere que je n'ai pas un moment libre. Que j'envieles gens forts qui sont d'une sante robuste et qui n'ont rien afaire! Je suis bien fache, je n'ai pas le temps d'etre malade. "

When I studied his Trio he drew my attention to some passageswhich now displeased him, he would now write them differently. Atthe end of the Trio he said: "How vividly do the days when Icomposed it rise up in my memory! It was at Posen, in the castlesurrounded by vast forests of Prince Radziwill. A small but veryselect company was gathered together there. In the mornings therewas hunting, in the evenings music. Ah! and now, " he added sadly, "the Prince, his wife, his son, all, all are dead. "

At a soiree (Dec. 20, 1840) he made me play the Sonata with theFuneral March before a large assemblage. On the morning of thesame day I had once more to play over to him the Sonata, but wasvery nervous. "Why do you play less well to-day?" he asked. Ireplied that I was afraid. "Why? I consider you play it well, " herejoined very gravely, indeed, severely. "But if you wish to playthis evening as nobody played before you, and nobody will playafter you, well then!". .. These words restored my composure. Thethought that I played to his satisfaction possessed me also inthe evening; I had the happiness of gaining Chopin's approval andthe applause of the audience. Then he played with me the Andanteof his F minor Concerto, which he accompanied magnificently onthe second piano. The entire assemblage assailed him with therequest to perform some more of his compositions, which he thendid to the delight of all. 

For eighteen months (he did not leave Paris this summer) I wasallowed to enjoy his instruction. How willingly would I havecontinued my studies with him longer! But he himself was ofopinion that I should now return to my fatherland, pursue mystudies unaided, and play much in public. On parting he presentedme with the two manuscripts of his C sharp major and E majorstudies (dedicated to Liszt), and promised to write during hisstay in the country a concert-piece and dedicate it to me. 

In the end of the year 1844 I went again to Paris, and foundChopin looking somewhat stronger. At that time his friends hopedfor the restoration of, or at least for a considerableimprovement in, his health. 

The promised concert-piece, Op. 46, had to my inexpressibledelight been published. I played it to him, and he was satisfiedwith my playing of it; rejoiced at my successes in Vienna, ofwhich he had been told, exerted himself with the amiabilitypeculiar to him to make me still better known to the musicalworld of Paris. Thus I learned to know Auber, Halevy, Franchomme, Alkan, and others. But in February, 1845, 1 was obliged to returnto Vienna; I had pupils there who were waiting for me. On partinghe spoke of the possibility of coming there for a short time, andI had quite made up my mind to return for another visit to Parisin eighteen months, in order again to enjoy his valuableinstruction and advice. But this, to my deepest regret, was notto be. 

I saw Madame Sand in the year 1841 and again in the year 1845 ina box in a theatre, and had an opportunity of admiring herbeauty. I never spoke to her. 

APPENDIX X. 

PORTRAITS OF CHOPIN. 

A biography is incomplete without some account of the portraitsof the hero or heroine who is the subject of it. M. Mathiasregards as the best portrait of Chopin a lithograph by Engelmannafter a drawing by Vigneron, of 1833, published by MauriceSchlesinger, of Paris. In a letter to me he writes: "Thisportrait is marvellous for the absolutely exact idea it gives ofChopin: the graceful fall of the shoulders, the Polish look, thecharm of the mouth. " Continuing, he says: "Another good likenessof Chopin, but of a later date, between the youthful period andthat of his decay, is Bovy's medallion, which gives a very exactidea of the outlines of his hair and nose. Beyond these thereexists nothing, all is frightful; for instance, the portrait inKarasowski's book, which has a stupid look. " The portrait herealluded to is a lithographic reproduction of a drawing by A. Duval. As a rule, the portraits of Chopin most highly prized byhis pupils and acquaintances are those by A. Bovy and T. Kwiatkowski. Madame Dubois, who likes Bovy's medallion best, andnext to it the portraits by Kwiatkowski, does not care much forAry Scheffer's portrait of her master, in whose apartments shehad of course frequent opportunities to examine it. "It had theappearance of a ghost [d'un ombre], and was more pale and wornthan Chopin himself. " Of a bust by Clesinger Madame Duboisremarks that it does not satisfy those who knew Chopin. M. Marmontel writes in a letter to me that the portrait of Chopin byDelacroix in his possession is a powerful sketch painted in oil, "reproducing the great artist in the last period of his life, when he was about to succumb to his chest disease. My dear friendFelix Barrias has been inspired, or, to be more exact, hasreproduced this beautiful and poetic face in his picture of thedying Chopin asking the Countess Potocka to sing to him. " Gutmannhad in his possession two portraits of his master, both pencildrawings; the one by Franz Winterhalter, dated May 2, 1847, theother by Albert Graefle, dated October 19, 1849. The former ofthese valuable portraits shows Chopin in his decline, the latteron his death-bed. Both seem good likenesses, Graefle's drawinghaving a strong resemblance with Bovy's medallion. 

[FOOTNOTE: The authorship alone is sufficient to make a drawingby George Sand interesting. Madame Dubois says (in a letterwritten to me) that the portrait, after a drawing of George Sand, contained in the French edition of Chopin's posthumous works, published by Fontana, is not at all a good likeness. HerrHerrmann Scholtz in Dresden has in his possession a faithful copyof a drawing by George Sand made by a nephew of the composer, apainter living at Warsaw. Madame Barcinska, the sister of Chopin, in whose possession the original is, spoke of it as a very goodlikeness. This picture, however, is not identical with thatmentioned by Madame Dubois. ]

The portrait by A. Regulski in Szulc's book can only be regardedas a libel on Chopin, and ought perhaps also to be regarded as alibel on the artist. Various portraits in circulation arecuriosities rather than helps to a realisation of the outwardappearance of Chopin. Schlesinger, of Berlin, published alithograph after a drawing by Maurir; and Schuberth, of Hamburg, an engraving on steel, and Hofmeister, of Leipzig, a lithograph, after I don't know what original. Several other portraits neednot be mentioned, as they are not from life, but more or lessfancy portraits based on one or more of the authenticdelineations. Bovy's medallion graces Breitkopf and Hartel'sGesammtausgabe and Thematic Catalogue of the master's publishedworks. The portrait by Ary Scheffer may be seen lithographicallyreproduced by Waldow in the German edition of Chopin's posthumousworks, published by Fontana. A wood-cut after the drawing byGraefle appeared in 1879 in the German journal Die Gartenlaube. Prefixed to the first volume of the present biography the readerwill find one of the portraits by Kwiatkowski, an etching after acharming pencil drawing in my possession, the reproduction ofwhich the artist has kindly permitted. M. Kwiatkowski hasportrayed Chopin frequently, and in many ways and under variouscircumstances, alive and dead. Messrs. Novello, Ewer & Co. Havein their possession a clever water-colour drawing by Kwiatkowskiof Chopin on his death-bed. A more elaborate picture by the sameartist represents Chopin on his death-bed surrounded by hissister, the Princess Marcellince Czartoryska, Grzymala, the AbbeJelowicki, and the portrayer. On page 321 of this volume will befound M. Charles Gavard's opinion of two portrayals of Chopin, respectively by Clesinger and Kwiatkowski. In conclusion, Irecall to the reader's attention what has been said of themaster's appearance and its pictorial and literary reproductionson pp. 65 and 246 of Vol. I. And pp. 100, 135, and 329 of Vol. II. 

REMARKS PRELIMINARY

TO THE

LIST OF CHOPIN'S WORKS. 

The original editions were three in number: the German, theFrench, and the English (see p. 272). To avoid overcrowding, onlythe names of the original German and French publishers will begiven in the following list, with two exceptions, however, --Op. 1and 5, which were published in Poland (by Brzezina & Co. , ofWarsaw) long before they made their appearance elsewhere. [FOOTNOTE: What is here said, however, does not apply to SectionIV. ] Some notes on the publication of the works in England areincluded in these preliminary remarks. 

In the list the publishers will be always placed in the sameorder--the German first, and the French second (in the twoexceptional cases, Op. 1 and 5, they will be second and third). The dates with an asterisk and in parentheses (*) are those atwhich a copy of the respective works was deposited at the ParisBibliotheque du Conservatoire de Musique, the dates without anasterisk in parentheses are derived from advertisements in Frenchmusical journals; the square brackets [ ] enclose conjectural andapproximate dates and additional information; and lastly, thedates without parentheses and without brackets were obtained byme direct from the successors of the original German publishers, and consequently are more exact and trustworthy than the others. In a few cases where the copyright changed hands during thecomposer's lifetime, and where unacquaintance with this changemight give rise to doubts and difficulties, I have indicated thefact. 

The publishing firms mentioned in the list are the following:--Maurice Schlesinger, Brandus &Cie. (the successors of M. Schlesinger), Eugene Troupenas & Cie. , Joseph Meissonnier, JosephMeissonnier fils H. Lemoine, Ad. Catelin & Cie. (Editeurs desCompositeurs reunis, Rue Grange Bateliere, No. 26), Pacini(Antonio Francesco Gaetano), Prilipp & Cie. (Aquereurs d'unepartie du Fond d'lgn. Pleyel & Cie. ), S. Richault (i. E. , CharlesSimon Richault, to whom succeeded his son Guillaume Simon, who inhis turn was succeeded by his son Leon. --Present style: Richaultet Cie. , Successeurs), and Schonenberger, all of Pans;-Breitkopf& Hartel, Probst-Kistner (since 1836 Friedrich Kistner), Friedrich Hofmeister, and C. F. Peters, of Leipzig;--Ad. M. Schlesinger, Stern & Co. ( from 1852 J. Friedlander; later onannexed to Peters, of Leipzig), and Bote and Bock, of Berlin;--Tobias Haslinger, Carl Haslinger quondam Tobias, and PietroMechetti (whose widow was succeeded by C. A. Spina), of Vienna;--Schuberth & Co. , of Hamburg (now Julius Schuberth, of Leipzig);--B. Schott's Sohne, of Mainz;--Andr. Brzezina & Co. And Gebethner& Wolff, of Warsaw;--J. Wildt and W. Chaberski, of Cracow;--andJ. Leitgeber, of Posen. 

From 1836 onward the course of the publication of Chopin's worksin England can be followed in the advertisement columns of theMusical World. Almost all the master's works were published inEngland by Wessel. On March 8, 1838, Messrs. Wessel advertisedOp. 1-32 with the exception of Op. 4, 11, and 29. This lastfigure has, no doubt, to be read as 28, as the Preludes couldhardly be in print at that time, and the Impromptu, Op. 29, wasadvertised on October 20, 1837, as OP. 28. With regard to Op. 12it has to be noted that it represents not the Variationsbrillantes sur le Rondo favori "Je vends des Scapulaires, " butthe Grand Duo concertant for piano and violoncello, everywhereelse published without opus number. The Studies, Op. 10, wereoffered to the public "revised with additional fingering by hispupil I. [sic] Fontana. " On November 18, 1841, Wessel andStapleton (the latter having come in as a partner in 1839)advertised Op. 33-43, and subsequently Op. 44-48. On February 22, 1844, they announced that they had "the sole copyright of theCOMPLETE and entire works" of Chopin. On May 15, 1845, wereadvertised Op. 57 and 58; on January 17, 1846, Op. 59; onSeptember 26, 1846, Op. 60, 61, and 62. The partnership withStapleton having in 1845 been dissolved, the style of the firmwas now Wessel & Co. Thenceforth other English publishers cameforward with Chopin compositions. On June 3, 1848, Cramer, Beale& Co. Advertised Chopin's "New Valses and Mazurkas for thepianoforte"; and on the title-pages of the French edition of Op. 63, 64, and 65 I found the words: "London, Jullien et Cie. " Butalso before this time Wessel seems to have had competitors; foron the title-page of the French edition of Op. 22 may be read:"London, Mori et Lavenu, " and on September 20, 1838, Robert Cocksadvertised "Five Mazurkas and Three Nocturnes. " On September 23, 1848, however, Wessel & Co. Call themselves sole proprietors ofChopin's works; and on November 24, 1849, they call themselvesPublishers of the Complete Works of Chopin. Information receivedfrom Mr. Ashdown, the present proprietor of the business, one ofthe two successors (Mr. Parry retired in 1882) of ChristianRudolph Wessel, who retired in 1860 and died in 1885, throws somefurther light on the publication of Chopin's works in England. Wehave already seen in a former part of this book (p. 117) thatWessel discontinued to deal with Chopin after Op. 62. "Cramer, Beale & Co. , " writes Mr. Ashdown, "published the Mazurkas, Op. 63, and two only of the Waltzes, Op. 64; these, being non-copyright in England, Mr. Wessel added to his edition, togetherwith the third waltz of Op. 64. The name of Jullien on the Frenchedition was probably put on in consequence of negotiations forthe sale of English copyright having been entered upon, butwithout result. " With the exception of Op. 12 and 65, Wesselpublished all the works with opus numbers of Chopin that wereprinted during the composer's lifetime. Cramer, Addison & Bealepublished the Variations, Op. 12; Chappell, the Trois NouvellesEtudes; R. Cocks, the posthumous Sonata, Op. 4, and theVariations stir un air allemand without opus number; and StanleyLucas, Weber & Co. , the Seventeen Polish Songs, Op. 74. Thepresent editions issued by the successor of Wessel are eitherprinted from the original plates or re-engraved (which is thecase in about half of the number) from the old Wessel copies, with here and there a correction. 

Simultaneous publication was aimed at, as we see from Chopin'sletters, but the dates of the list show that it was rarelyattained. The appearance of the works in France seems to have inmost cases preceded that in Germany; in the case of theTarantelle, Op. 43, I found the English edition first advertised(October 28, 1841). Generally there was approximation if notsimultaneity. 

 I. --WORKS PUBLISHED WITH OPUS NUMBERS DURING THE COMPOSER'S LIFETIME. 

DATES ORIGINALOF GERMAN & FRENCHPUBLICATION TITLES WITH REFERENCES PUBLISHERS. 

1825. OP. 1. Premier Rondeau [C minor] Brzezina. Pour le piano. Dedie a Mme. De A. M. Schlesinger. Linde. --Vol. I, pp. 52, 53-54, M. Schlesinger 55, 112;--Vol. II, p. 87

[1830, OP. 2. La ci darem la mano [B flat T. Haslingerabout March] major] varie pour le piano, avec M. Schlesinger(September accompagnement d'orchestre. Dedie21, 1834. ) a Mr. Woyciechowski. --Vol. I. , pp. 53, 62, 95, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 105, 112, 116-118, 120, 163, 241; Vol. II. , p. 87, 212

[1833 in OP. 3. Introduction et Polonaise Mechettiprint. ] brillante [C major], pour piano S. RichaultJune, 1835) et violincelle Dediee d Mr. Joseph Merk. --Vol. I. , pp. 129, 200-201; --Vol. II. , p. 87. 

 Op. 4. As this work was published posthumously, it had to be placed in Section III. Nevertheless, it differs from the works with which it is classed in one important respect--it was intended for publication by the composer himself, who sent it to Vienna in 1828. 

[1827?] Op. 5. Rondeau a la Mazur [F major] Brzezina. May, 1836 pour le piano. Dediee a Mlle. La Hofmeister. Comtesse Alexandrine de Moriolles. Schonenberger. --Vol. I. , pp. 54-55, 56, 112, 168; --Vol. II. , p. 87

Dec. , 1832 Op. 6. Quatre Mazurkas [F sharp minor Probst-Kistner. (Nov. 23, C Sharp minor, E major, and E flat M. Schlesinger. 1834. ) minor] pour le piano. Dediees a Mlle. La Comtesse Pauline Plater. --Vol. I. , p. 268;--Vol. II, pp. 231- 232. 234-239. 

Dec. 1832 Op. 7. Cinq Mazurkas [B flat major, Probst-Kistner(Nov. 23, A minor, F minor, A flat major, and M. Schlesinger. 1834. ) C major] pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Johns. --Vol. I. , pp. 250, 268, 276 (No. 1);--Vol. II, pp. 231-232 234-239. 

March, 1833. ) Op. 8. Premier Trio [G minor] pour Probst-Kistner(Nov. 23, piano, violon, et violoncelle. M. Schlesinger 1834. ) Dedie a Mr. Le Prince Antonine Radziwill--Vol. I. , pp. 62, 88, 112, 113-115, 268;--Vol. II. , p. 212, 342

Jan. 1833. Op. 9. Trois Nocturnes (B flat Probst-Kistner(Nov. 23, minor, E flamajor, and B major] M. Schlesinger 1834. ) pour le piano Dedies a Mme. Camille Pleyel--Vol. L. , 268; --Vol. II. , pp. 87. 261-63

August, 1833. Op. 10. Douze Grandes Etudes [C major Probst-Kistner(July 6, 1833. ) A minor, E major, C sharp minor M. Schlesinger G flat major, E flat minor, C [who sold them major, F major, F minor, A flat afterwards to major, E flat major, and C minor] Lemoine]. Pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Fr. Liszt. --Vol. I. , p. 201, 268; Vol. II. , p. 55 (No. 5), 251-254. 

Sept. , 1833 Op. 11. Grand Concerto [E minor] pour Probst-Kistner(July 6, le piano avec orchestre. Dedie a M. Schlesinger1833. ) Mr. Fr. Kalkbrenner. --Vol. I. , pp 127, 146, 147, 150, 151, 152, 156, 189, 195, 203-208, 210-212, 233, 240, 241, 268, 281; Vol. II. , pp. 16, 211

Nov. , 1833 Op. 12. Variations brillantes [B flat Breitkopf & Hartel(Jan. 26, major] pour le piano sur le Rondeau M. Schlesinger1834) favori de Ludovic de Herold: "Je vends des Scapulaires. " Dediees a Mlle. Emma Horsford. --Vol. I. , p. 268; Vol. II. , p. 221. 

May, 1834 Op. 13. Grande Fantaisie [A major] sur Probst-Kistner(April, des airs polonais, pour le piano M. Schlesinger1834) avec orchestre. Dediee a Mr. J. P. Pixis--Vol. I. , pp. 112, 116. 118-120, 132, 152, 197, 268; Vol. II. , p. 212. 

July, 1834. Op. 14 Krakowiak, Grand Rondeau de Probst-Kistner(June, Concert [F major] pour le piano M. Schlesinger1834. ) avec orchestre. Deidie a Mme. La Princesse Adam Czartoryska. Vol. I. , pp. 88, 96, 97, 98, 99, 101, 102. 112, 116, 118-120, 134, 268; Vol. II. , 233. 

Jan. , 1834 OP. 15. Trois Nocturnes [F major, F Breitkopf &[Copies sharp major, and G minor] pour le Hartel. Sent to piano. Dedies a Mr. Ferd. Hiller. -- M. Schlesinger. Composer Vol. II. , pp. 87, 261, 263already inDec. , 1833]. (Jan. 12, 1834. )

March, OP. 16. Rondeau [E flat major] pour Breitkopf &1834. Le piano. Dedie a Mlle. Caroline Hartel. Hartmann. --Vol. I. , p. 269; Vol. M. Schlesinger. II. , p. 221. 

May, 1834. OP. 17. Quatre Mazurkas [B flat Breitkopf & major, E minor, A flat major, and A Hartel. Minor] pour le piano, Dediees a Mme. M. Schlesinger. Lina Freppa. --Vol. I. , p. 268; Vol. II. , 231-232, 234-239. 

July, 1834. OP. 18. Grande Valse [E fiat major] Breitkopf &(June, pour le piano. Dediee a Mlle. Laura Hartel. 1834. *) Harsford [thus in all the editions, M. Schlesinger but should probably be Horsford. See [who sold it Op. 12. ]--Vol. I. , pp. 268, 273; afterwards to Vol. II. , 249. Lemoine]. 

March, OP. 20. Premier Scherzo [B minor] Breitkopf &1835. Pour le piano. Dedie a Mr. Hartel. (Feb. , T. Albrecht. --Vol. I. , p. 294; Vol. M. Schlesinger. 1835. *) II. , pp. 27, 87, 256-257. 

April, OP. 21. Second Concerto [F minor] Breitkopf and1836. Pour le piano avec orchestre. Dedie Hartel. (Aug. , a Mme. La Comtesse Delphine Potocka. M. Schlesinger. 1836. ) --Vol. I. , pp. 128, 131-132, 134, 156, 163, 200, 203-210, 212, 241, 294; II. , p. 211. 

Aug. , 1836. OP. 22. Grande Polonaise brillante Breitkopf &(July, [E flat major], precedee d'un Hartel. 1836. *) Andante spianato, pour le piano avec M. Schlesinger. Orchestre. Dediee a Mme. La Baronne d'Est. --Vol. I. , pp. 201-202, 295; Vol. II. , pp. 239-243, 244. 

June, 1836. OP. 23. Ballade [G minor] pour le Breitkopf &(July, piano. Dediee a Mr. Le Baron de Hartel. 1836. *) Stockhausen. --Vol. I. , pp. 294, 295 M. Schlesinger. Vol. II. , pp. 87, 268-9. 

Nov. , 1835. Op. 24 Quatre Mazurkas [G minor, C Breitkopf &(Jan. , major, A flat major, and B flat Hartel. 1836. ) minor]. Dediees a Mr. Le Comte de M. Schlesinger. Perthuis. -Vol. I. , pp. 294, 295; Vol. II. , pp. 218 (No. 2), 231- 2, 234 9. 

Oct. , 1837. Op. 25 Douze Etudes [A flat major, F Breitkopf &(Oct. 22, minor, F major, A minor, E minor, G Hartel. 1837. ) sharp minor, C sharp minor, D flat M. Schlesinger major G flat major, B minor, A minor, [who sold the & C minor] pour le piano. Dediees & copyright Mme. La Comtesse d'Agoult. --Vol. I. , afterwards to pp. 276, 295, 310; Vol. II. , pp. 15, Lemoine]. 251-4. 

July, 1836. Op. 26. Deux Polonaises [C sharp Breitkopf &(July, minor and E flat minor] pour le Hartel. 1836. *) piano. Dediees a Mr. J. Dessauer. -- M. Schlesinger. Vol. I. , p. 295; Vol. II. , pp. 239- 244; 245-6. 

May, 1836. Op. 27. Deux Nocturnes [C sharp Breitkopf &(July, minor and D flat major] pour le Hartel. 1836. *) piano. Dediees a Mme. La Comtesse M. Schlesinger. D'Appony. -Vol. I. , pp. 294, 295; Vol. II. , pp. 87, 261, 263-4. 

Sept. , Op. 28. Vingt-quatre Preludes pour Breitkopf &1839. Le piano. Dediees a son ami Pleyel Hartel. (Sept. , [in the French and in the English Ad. Catelin et1839. *) edition; a Mr. J. C. Kessler in the Cie. German edition. The French edition appeared in two books and without opus number]. --Vol. II. , pp. 20, 24, 27, 28, 29-30, 30-31, 42-45, 50, 51, 71, 72, 76, 77, 254-6. 

Jan. , 1838. Op. 29. Impromptu [A flat major] Breitkopf &(Dec. , pour le piano. Dedie a Mile, la Hartel. 1837. *) Comtesse de Lobau. --Vol. II. , pp. M. Schlesinger. 15, 259. 

Jan. , 1838. Op. 30. Quatre Mazurkas [C minor, B Breitkopf &(Dec. , minor, D flat major, and C sharp Hartel. 1837. *) minor] pour le piano. Dediees a Mme. M. Schlesinger. La Princesse de Wurtemberg, nee Princesse Czartoryska. --Vol. II. , pp. 15, 231-2, 234-9. 

Feb. , 1838. Op. 31. Deuxieme Scherzo [B flat Breitkopf &(Dec. , minor] pour le piano. Dedie a Mile, Hartel. 1837. *) la Comtesse Adele de Fursienslein. M. Schlesinger. --Vol. II. , pp. 15, 87, 256, 257. 

(Dec. , OP. 32. Deux Nocturnes [B major and A. M. 1837. *) A flat major] pour le Piano. Dedies Schlesinger. A Mme. La Baronne de Billing. --Vol. M. Schlesinger. II. , pp. 15, 87, 264. 

Nov. , 1838. OP. 33. Quatre Mazurkas [G sharp Breitkopf &(Nov. , minor, D major, C major, and B Hartel. 1838. ) minor] pour le piano. Dediees a M. Schlesinger. Mlle. La Comtesse Mostowska. --Vol. II. , pp. 15, 231-2, 234-9. 

Dec. , 1838. OP. 34. Trois Valses brillantes [A Breitkopf &(Jan. , flat major, A minor, and F major] Hartel. 1839. *) pour le piano. Dediees [No. 1] a M. Schlesinger. Mlle. DeThun-Hohenstein; [No. 2] a Mme. G. D'Ivri; [No. 3] d Mile. A. D'Eichthal. --Vol. I. , p. 200 (No. I); Vol. II. , pp. 15, 30; 248, 249. 

May, 1840. OP. 35. Sonate [B flat minor] pour Breitkopf &(May, le piano. --Vol. II. , pp. 45, 62, 72, Hartel. 1840. *) 77, 94, 225-8. Troupenas et Cie. 

May, 1840. OP. 36. Deuxieme Impromptu [F sharp Breitkopf &(May, minor] pour le piano. --Vol. II. , pp. Hartel. 1840. *) 259-60. Troupenas et Cie. 

May, 1840. OP. 37. Deux Nocturnes [G minor and Breitkopf &(June, G major] pour le piano. --Vol. II. , Hartel. 1840. *) p. 45, 62, 87, 261, 264. Troupenas et Cie. 

Sept. , OP. 38. Deuxieme Ballade [F major] Breitkopf &1840. Pour le piano. Dediee a Mr. R. Hartel. (Sept. , Schumann. --Vol. II. , pp. 45, 50, 51, Troupenas et1840. *) 52, 54, 77, 268, 269. Cie. 

Oct. , 1840. Op. 39. Troisieme Scherzo [C sharp Breitkopf &(Dec. , minor] pour le piano. Dedie a Mr. A. Hartel. 1840. *) Gutmann. --Vol. II. , pp. 45, 53, 72, Troupenas et 77, 256, 258. Cie. 

Nov. , 1840. Op. 40. Deux Polonaises [A major and Breitkopf &(Dec. , C minor] pour le piano. Dediees a Hartel. 1840. *) Mr. J. Fontana. --Vol. II. , pp. 45, Troupenas et 50, 51, 52, 54, 77, 87, 94, 213 (No. Cie. 1), 239-244, 246, 247. 

Dec. , 1840. Op. 41. Quatre Mazurkas [C sharp Breitkopf &(Dec. , minor, E minor, B major, and A flat Hartel. 1840. *) major] pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Troupenas et E. Witwicki. --Vol. II. , pp. 46 (No. Cie. 1), 62, 77, 231-2, 234-9. 

July, 1840. Op. 42. Valse [A flat major pour le Breitkopf & piano, --Vol. II. , pp. 77, 86, 248, Hartel. 249. Pacini. 

(1841. An Op. 43. Tarantella [A flat major] Schuberth & Co. Nounced in pour le piano. --Vol. II. , pp. 77, Troupenas et Cie. Monatsbe- 82-86, 222. Richte on Jan. 1, 1842. Paidfor by thepublisher onJuly 7, 1841. ](Oct. , 1841. *)

(Nov. 28, Op. 44. Polonaise [F sharp minor] Merchetti. 1841. ) pour le piano. Dediee a Mme. La M. Schlesinger. Princesse Charles de Beauvau. --Vol. II. , pp. 77, 80, 81, 86, 239-244, 246. 

(Nov. 28, Op. 45. Prelude [C sharp minor] pour Merchetti. 1841. ) piano. Dediee a Mlle. La Prin- M. Schlesinger. Cesse Elisabeth Czernicheff. --Vol. II. , pp. 77, 80, 81, 256

Jan. , 1842. Op. 46. Allegro de Concert [A major] Breitkopf & Hartel. (Nov. 28, pour le piano. Dedie a Mlle. F. M. Schlesinger. 1841) Muller--Vol. I. , p. 202; Vol. II. , pp. 77, 86, 87, 177, 223-5. 

Jan. 1842 Op. 47. Troisieme Ballade [A flat Breitkopf & Hartel. (Nov. 28, major] pour le piano. Dediee a M. Schlesinger. 1841) Mlle. P. De Noailles. --Vol. II. , pp. 77, 87, 92, 268, 269-70. 

Jan. , 1842 Op. 48. Deux Nocturnes [C minor Breitkopf & Hartel. (Nov. 28, and F sharp minor] pour le piano. M. Schlesinger. 1841) Dediees a Mlle. L. Duperre--Vol. II. , pp. 77, 87, 88, 262, 265

Jan. , 1842 Op. 49. Fantaisie [F minor] pour Breitkopf & Hartel. (Nov. 28, le piano Dediee a Mme. La Princesse M. Schlesinger. 1841) C. De Souzzo. --Vol. II. , pp. 77, 87, 230-1. 

[Sept. , 1842. Op. 50. Trois Mazurkas [G major, Mechetti. Announced A flat major, and C charp minor] M. Schlesinger. In Monats- pour le piano. Dediees a Mr. Leonberichte. ] Szmitkowski--Vol. II. , p. 77, 231-2, (Nov. 28, 1841 234-9. [not againadvertisedtill June 5, 1842, although theprecedingnumberswere. ])

Feb. , 1843. Op. 51. Allegro Vivace. Troisieme Hofmeister. (July 9, Impromptu [G flat major] pour le M. Schlesinger. 1843. ) piano. Dedie a Mme. La Comtesse Esterhazy. --Vol. II. , pp. 121, 260. 

Feb. , 1843. Op. 52. Quatrieme Ballade [F minor] Breitkopf &(Dec. 24, pour le piano. Dediee a Mme. La Hartel. 1843. ) Baronne C. De Rothschild. --Vol. II. , M. Schlesinger. Pp. 77, 121, 268, 270. 

Dec. , 1843. OP. 53. Huiticmc Polonaise [A flat Breitkopf &(Dec. 24, major] pour le piano. Dediee a Mr. Hartel. 1843. ) A. Leo. --Vol. II. , pp. 77, 94, 97, M. Schlesinger. 121, 213, 239-244, 247. 

Dec. , 1843. Op. 54. Scherzo No. 4 [E major] pour Breitkopf &(Dec. 24, le piano. Dedie a Mlle. J. De Hartel. 1843. ) Caraman. --Vol. II-, pp. 121, 256, M. Schlesinger. 258-9. 

Aug. 1844. Op. 55. Deux Nocturnes [F minor and Breitkopf &(Sept. 22, E flat major] pour le piano. Dedies Hartel. 1844. ) a Mlle. J. W. Stirling. --Vol. II. , M. Schlesinger. P. 118, 121, 262, 265-6. 

Aug. , 1844. Op. 56. Trois Mazurkas [B major, C Breitkopf &(Sept. 22, major, and C minor] pour le piano. Hartel. 1844. ) Dediees a Mlle. C. Maberly. --Vol. M. Schlesinger. II. , pp. 118, 121-2, 231-2, 234-9. 

May, 1845. Op. 57. Berceuse [D flat major] pour Breitkopf &(June, le piano. Dediee & Mlle. Elise Hartel. 1845. *) Gavard. --Vol. I. , p. 119; Vol. II. , J. Meissonnier. Pp. 118, 122, 267-8. 

June, 1845. Op. 58. Sonate [B minor] pour le Breitkopf & Hartel(June, piano. Dediee a Mme. La Comtesse J. Meissonnier. 1845*) E. De Perthuis. --Vol. II. , pp. 118, 122, 228-9. 

[Jan. , 1846, Op. 59. Trois Mazurkas [A minor, Stern et Cie. Announced A flat major, and F sharp minor] Brandus et Cie. In Monats- pour le piano. --Vol. II. , pp. 122, berichte. ] 231-2, 234-9. (April, 1846. *)

Dec. , 1846 Op. 60 Barcarolle [F sharp major] Breitkopf & Hartel(Sept. , pour le piano. Dediee a Mme. La Brandus et Cie. 1846) Baronne de Stockhausen-Vol. II, pp. 77, 122 266-7. 

Dec. , 1846. Op. 61 Polonaise-Fantaisie [A Breitkopf & Hartel(Sept. , flat major] pour le piano. Brandus et Cie. 1846. *) Dediee a Mme. A. Veyret. -- Vol. II. , pp. 122, 239-244, 248

Dec. , 1846. Op. 62. Deux Nocturnes [B major Breitkopf & Hartel. (Sept. , and E major] pour le piano. Dedies Brandus et Cie. 1846. *) a Mlle. R. De Konneritz. --Vol. II. , pp. 122, 262, 266. 

Sept. , OP. 63. Trois Mazurkas [B major, F Breitkopf &1847. Minor, and C sharp minor] pour le Hartel. (Oct. 17, piano. Dediees a. Mme. La Comtesse Brandus et Cie. 1847) L. Czosnowska. --Vol. II. , pp. 122, 205, 231-2, 234-9. 

Sept. , OP. 64. Trois Valses [D flat major, Breitkopf &1847. C sharp minor, and A flat major] Hartel. (Oct. 17, pour le piano. Dediees [No 1] a Mme. Brandus et Cie. 1847) la Comtesse Potocka; [No. 2] a Mme. La Baronne de Rothschild; [No. 3] a Mme. La Baronne Bronicka. -- Vol. II. , pp. 95, 122, 142 (No. 1), 205, 248, 250-1, 387. 

Sept. , OP. 65. Sonate [G minor] pour piano Breitkopf &1847. Et violoncelle. Dediee a Mr. A. Hartel. (Oct. 17, Franchomme. --Vol. II. , pp. 122, 205, Brandus et Cie. 1847) 206, 207, 211, 229. 

 II. --WORKS PUBLISHED WITHOUT OPUS NUMBERS DURING THE COMPOSER'S LIFETIME. 

[1833, in Grand Duo concertant [E major] pour M. Schlesinger. Print. ] piano et violoncelle sur des themes A. M. (July 6, de Robert le Diable, par F. Chopin Schlesinger. 1833. ) et A. Franchomme. --Vol. II. , p. 230. 

Aug. Or Trois Nouvelles Etudes [F. Minor, A M. Schlesinger. Sept. , 1840 flat major, and D flat major]. Etudes A. M. [this is de Schlesinger. Perfection de lathe date of Methode des Moscheles et Fetis. --Vol. The II. , p. 252. Appearanceof theMethode. ]

(July 25, Variation VI. [Largo, E major, C] T. Haslinger. 1841. ) from the Hexameron: Morceau de Troupenas et Cie. Concert. Grandes Variations de bravoure sur la Marche des "Puritains" de Bellini, composees pour le Concert de Mme. La Princesse Belgiojoso au benefice des pauvres, par MM. Liszt, Thalberg, Pixis, H. Herz, Czerny, and Chopin. --Vol. II. , pp. 14, 15. 

[Feb. , 1842, Mazurka [A minor] pour piano, No. 2 B. Schott's Sohne. Announced of "Notre Temps. "--Vol. II. , p. 237in Monats-berichte. 

 III. --WORKS PUBLISHED WITH OPUS NUMBERS AFTER THE COMPOSER'S DEATH. 

[May, OP. 4. Sonate [C minor] pour le C. Haslinger. 1851. ] piano. Dediee a Mr. Joseph Elsner. S. Richault. (May, [This work was already in the hands1851. *) of the German publisher, T. Haslinger, in 1828. ]--Vol. I. , pp. 62, 112, 118; Vol. II. , p. 63. 

1855. OP. 66-74 are the posthumous works A. M. With opus numbers given to the world Schlesinger. By Julius Fontana (publies sur fils. J. Meissonnier manuscrits originaux avec autorisation de sa famille). --Vol. II. , 270-1. 

 OP. 66. Fantaisie-Impromptu [C sharp minor]. Composed about 1834. -- Vol. II. . P. 261, 271. 

 OP. 67. Quatre Mazurkas [G major (1835), G minor (1849), C major (1835), and A minor (1846). ]--Vol. II. , p. 271. 

 OP. 68. Quatre Mazurkas [C major (1830), A minor (1827), F major (1830), and F minor (1849). ]--Vol. I. , pp. 112, 122 (No. 2). 

 OP. 69. Deux Valses [F minor (1836), and B minor (1829). ]-- Vol. I. , pp. 112, 122 (No. 2). 

 OP. 70. Trois Valses [G flat major (1835), F minor (1843), and D flat major (1830). ]--Vol. I. , pp. 128, 200 (No. 3). 

 Op. 71. Trois Polonaises [D minor (1827), B flat major (1828), and F minor (1829). ]--Vol. I. , pp. 62 (Nos. 1 and 2), 112, 121 (Nos. 1, 2, and 3), 129 (No. 3). 

 OP. 72. Nocturne [E minor (1827)]; Marche funebre [C minor (1829)]; et Trois Ecossaises [D major, G major, and D flat major (1830)]. -- Vol. I. , pp. 62, 112, 121 (No. 1); 112, 123 (No. 2); 202 (No. 3). 

 OP. 73. Rondeau [C major] pour deux pianos (1828). --Vol. I. , pp. 62, 112, 116. 

 OP. 74. Seventeen Polish Songs by Witwicki, Mickiewicz, Zaleski, &c. , for voice with pianoforte accompaniment. The German translation by Ferd. Gumbert. [The English translation of Stanley Lucas, Weber & Co. 's English edition is by the Rev. J. Troutbeck. ]--Vol. II. , p. 271-272. 

 IV. --WORKS PUBLISHED WITHOUT OPUS NUMBERS AFTER THE COMPOSER'S DEATH. 

[May, Variations [E major] pour le piano C. Haslinger. 1851. ] stir un air allemand. (1824?) S. Richault. [although not published till 1851, this composition was already in 1830 in T. Haslinger's hands). --Vol. I. : pp. 53, 55, 56. 

 Mazurka [G major]. (1825. )--Vol. I. , J. Leitgeber. P. 52; II. , 236. Gebethner & Wolff. Mazurka [B flat major (1825)]. --Vol. I. , p. 52; II. , 236. 

 Mazurka [D major (1829-30)]. --Vol. I. , PP--202-203; II. , 236. 

 Mazurka [D major (1832. --A remodelling of the preceding Mazurka)]. --Vol. I. , pp. 202-203; II. , 236. 

 Mazurka [C major (1833)]. --Vol. II. , Gebethner & p. 236. Wolff. 

 Mazurka [A minor. Dediee a son ami Bote & Bock. Emile Gail'ard. --Vol. II, p. 236. 

1858. Valse [E minor]. --Vol. II. , p. 251. B. Schott's Sohne. Gebethner & Wolff. 

1864. Polonaise [G sharp minor]. Dediee B. Schott's a Mme. Dupont. --Vol. I. , p. 52 (see Sohne. Also Corrections and Additions, Vol. Gebethner & I. , p. VIII. Wolff. 

1872. Polonaise [G flat major]. Nothing B. Schott's but the composer's autograph could Sohne. Convince one of the genuineness of this piece. There are here and there passages which have the Chopin ring, indeed, seem to be almost bodily taken from some other of his works, but there is also a great deal which it is impossible to imagine to have come at any time from his pen--the very opening bars may be instanced. 

 Polonaise [B flat minor (1826)]. -- Gebethner & Vol. I. , pp. 52-53. Wolff. 

 Valse [E major (1829)]. -- Vol. I. , Gebethner & pp. 112, 122. Wolff. W. Chaberski. 

 Souvenir de Paganini [A major]. This piece, which I do not know, is mentioned in the list of the master's works given by Karasowski in the Polish edition of his life of Chopin. It was published in the supplement of the Warsaw Echo Muzyczne, where also the two preceding pieces first appeared. 

 About a Mazurka in F sharp major, published under Chopin's name by J. P. Gotthard, of Vienna, see Vol. II. , p. 237; and about Deux Valses melancoliques (F minor and B minor) ecrites sur l'Album de Mme. La Comtesse P. 1844, see Vol. II. , p. 251. 

 La Reine des Songes, which appeared in the Paris Journal de Musique, No. 8, 1876, is No. 1 of the Seventeen Polish Songs (transposed to B flat major) with French words by George Sand, beginning:

 "Quand la lune se leve Dans un pale rayon Elle vient comme un reve, Comme une vision. "

 Besides this song, the letter-press, taken from George Sand's Histoire de ma Vie, is accompanied by two instrumental pieces, extracts from the last movement of the E minor Concerto and the Bolero, the latter being called Chanson de Zingara.