Farther on in the same letter he says:—
How often do I take the night for the day, and the day for
the night! How often do I live in a dream and sleep during
the day, worse than if I slept, for I feel always the same;
and instead of finding refreshment in this stupor, as in
sleep, I vex and torment myself so that I cannot gain
strength.
It may be easily imagined with what interest one so far gone in love watched the debut of Miss Gladkowska as Agnese in Paer's opera of the same name. Of course he sends a full account of the event to his friend. She looked better on the stage than in the salon; left nothing to be desired in her tragic acting; managed her voice excellently up to the high j sharp and g; shaded in a wonderful manner, and charmed her slave when she sang an aria with harp accompaniment. The success of the lady, however, was not merely in her lover's imagination, it was real; for at the close of the opera the audience overwhelmed her with never-ending applause. Another pupil of the Conservatorium, Miss Wolkow, made her debut about the same time, discussions of the comparative merits of the two ladies, on the choice of the parts in which they were going to appear next, on the intrigues which had been set on foot for or against them, &c., were the order of the day. Chopin discusses all these matters with great earnestness and at considerable length; and, while not at all stingy in his praise of Miss Wolkow, he takes good care that Miss Gladkowska does not come off a loser:—
Ernemann is of our opinion [writes Chopin] that no singer can
easily be compared to Miss Gladkowska, especially as regards
just intonation and genuine warmth of feeling, which
manifests itself fully only on the stage, and carries away
the audience. Miss Wolkow made several times slight mistakes,
whereas Miss Gladkowska, although she has only been heard
twice in Agnese, did not allow the least doubtful note to
pass her lips.
The warmer applause given to Miss Wolkow did not disturb so staunch a partisan; he put it to the account of Rossini's music which she sang.
When Chopin comes to the end of his account of Miss Gladkowska's first appearance on the stage, he abruptly asks the question: "And what shall I do now?" and answers forthwith: "I will leave next month; first, however, I must rehearse my Concerto, for the Rondo is now finished." But this resolve is a mere flash of energy, and before we have proceeded far we shall come on words which contrast strangely with what we have read just now. Chopin has been talking about his going abroad ever so long, more especially since his return from Vienna, and will go on talking about it for a long time yet. First he intends to leave Warsaw in the winter of 1829-1830; next he makes up his mind to start in the summer of 1830, the question being only whether he shall go to Berlin or Vienna; then in May, 1830, Berlin is already given up, but the time of his departure remains still to be fixed. After this he is induced by the consideration that the Italian Opera season at Vienna does not begin till September to stay at home during the hot summer months. How he continues to put off the evil day of parting from home and friends we shall see as we go on. I called Chopin's vigorously-expressed resolve a flash of energy. Here is what he wrote not much more than a week after (on August 31, 1830):—
I am still here; indeed, I do not feel inclined to go abroad.
Next month, however, I shall certainly go. Of course, only to
follow my vocation and reason, which latter would be in a
sorry plight if it were not strong enough to master every
other thing in my head.
But that his reason was in a sorry plight may be gathered from a letter dated September 4, 1830, which, moreover, is noteworthy, as in the confessions which it contains are discoverable the key-notes of the principal parts that make up the symphony of his character.
I tell you my ideas become madder and madder every day. I am
still sitting here, and cannot make up my mind to fix
definitively the day of my departure. I have always a
presentiment that I shall leave Warsaw never to return to it;
I am convinced that I shall say farewell to my home for ever.
Oh, how sad it must be to die in any other place but where
one was born! What a great trial it would be to me to see
beside my death-bed an unconcerned physician and paid servant
instead of the dear faces of my relatives! Believe me, Titus,
I many a time should like to go to you and seek rest for my
oppressed heart; but as this is not possible, I often hurry,
without knowing why, into the street. But there also nothing
allays or diverts my longing. I return home to... long again
indescribably... I have not yet rehearsed my Concerto; in any
case I shall leave all my treasures behind me by Michaelmas.
In Vienna I shall be condemned to sigh and groan! This is the
consequence of having no longer a free heart! You who know
this indescribable power so well, explain to me the strange
feeling which makes men always expect from the following day
something better than the preceding day has bestowed upon
them? "Do not be so foolish!" That is all the answer I can
give myself; if you know a better, tell me, pray, pray....
After saying that his plan for the winter is to stay two months in Vienna and pass the rest of the season in Milan, "if it cannot be helped," he makes some remarks of no particular interest, and then comes back to the old and ever new subject, the cud that humanity has been chewing from the time of Adam and Eve, and will have to chew till the extinction of the race, whether pessimism or optimism be the favoured philosophy.