Frederick Chopin, as a Man and Musician — Complete

by Frederick Niecks

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 artistic position with regard to the public coinciding with that given by Liszt, but the following excerpts from the other parts of the article 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 his remarks, describe well the nature of the emotions which the artist 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, must have given Chopin satisfaction in every respect. At any rate, he faced the public again before a year had gone by. In the Gazette Musicale of February 20, 1842, we read that on the following evening, Monday, at Pleyel's rooms, the haute societe de Paris et tous les artistes s'y donneront rendez-vous. The programme of the concert 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, states more particularly what Chopin played. He mentions three mazurkas in A flat major, B major, and A minor; three studies in A flat major, F minor, and C minor; the Ballade in A flat major; four nocturnes, one of which was that in F sharp minor; a prelude in D flat; and an impromptu in G (G flat major?). Maurice Bourges's account is not altogether free from strictures. He finds Chopin's ornamentations always novel, but sometimes mannered (manierees). He says: "Trop de recherche fine et minutieuse n'est pas quelquefois sans pretention et san froideur." But on the whole the critique is very laudatory. "Liszt and Thalberg excite, as is well known, violent enthusiasm; Chopin also awakens enthusiasm, but of a less energetic, less noisy nature, precisely because he causes the most intimate chords of the heart to vibrate."

From the report in the "France musicale" we see that the audience was 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...