Mr. Salaman said, at a meeting of the London Musical Association (April 5, 1880), in the course of a discussion on the subject of Chopin, 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 he played it, and the appearance of his long, attenuated fingers during the time he was playing. [FOOTNOTE: Their thinness may have made them appear long, but they were not really so. See Appendix III.] He seemed quite exhausted." Mr. Salaman was particularly struck by the delicacy and refinement of Chopin's touch, and the utmost exquisiteness of expression.
To Chopin, as the reader will see in the letter addressed to Franchomme, and dated August 6th and 11th, these semi-public performances had only the one redeeming point—that they procured him much-needed money, otherwise he regarded them as a great annoyance. And this is not to be wondered at, if we consider the physical weakness under which he was then labouring. When Chopin went before these matinees to Broadwood's to try the pianoforte on which he was to play, he had each time to be carried up the flight of stairs which led to the piano-room. Chopin had also to be carried upstairs when he came to a concert which his pupil Lindsay Sloper gave in this year in the Hanover Square Rooms. But nothing brings his miserable condition so vividly before us as his 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 of settling in London? There was at the time a rumour of this being the case. The Athenaeum (April 8, 1848), in the note already adverted to, said:—"M. Chopin is expected, if not already here—it is even added to remain in England." But if he embraced the idea at first, he soon began to loosen his grasp of it, and, before long, abandoned it altogether. In his then state of health existence would have been a burden anywhere, but it was a greater one away from his accustomed surroundings. Moreover, English life to be enjoyable requires a robustness of constitution, sentimental and intellectual as well as physical, which the delicately-organised artist, even in his best time, could not boast of. If London and the rest of Britain was not to the mind of Chopin, it was not for want of good-will among the people. Chopin's letters show distinctly that kindness was showered upon him from all sides. And these letters do not by any means contain a complete roll of those who were serviceable to him. The name of Frederick Beale, the publisher, for instance, is not to be found there, and yet he is said, with what truth I do not know, to have attached himself to the tone-poet.
[FOOTNOTE: Mr. Hipkins heard Chopin play at Broadwood's to Beale the Waltzes in D flat major and C sharp minor (Nos. 1 and 2 of Op. 64), subsequently published by Cramer, Beale and Co. But why did the publisher not bring out the whole opus (three waltzes, not two), which had already been in print in France and Germany for nine or ten months? Was his attachment to the composer weaker than his attachment to his cash-box?]
The attentions of the piano-makers, on the other hand, are duly remembered. In connection with them I must not forget to record the fact that Mr. Henry Fowler Broadwood had a concert grand, the first 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 by Chopin in England and Scotland (and he used there no others at his public concerts and principal private entertainments), see the List of John Broadwood & Sons' Exhibits at the International Inventions Exhibition (1885), a pamphlet full of interesting information concerning the history and construction of the pianoforte. It is from the pen of A. J. Hipkins.]
A name one misses with surprise in Chopin's letters is that of his Norwegian pupil Tellefsen, who came over from Paris to London, and seems to have devoted himself to his master. [FOOTNOTE: Tellefsen, says Mr. Hipkins, was nearly always with Chopin.] Of his ever-watchful ministering friend Miss Stirling and her relations we shall hear more in the following letters.
Chopin started for Scotland early in August, 1848, for on the 6th August he writes to Franchomme that he had left London a few days before.
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 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.