Chopin had been advised by Mr. Beyer to have London instead of Paris put as a visa in his passport. The police complied with his request that this should be done, but the Russian Ambassador, after keeping the document for two days, gave him only permission to travel as far as Munich. But Chopin did not care so long as he got the signature of the French Ambassador. Although his passport contained the words "passant par Paris a Londres," and he in after years in Paris sometimes remarked, in allusion to these words, "I am here only in passing," he had no intention of going to London. The fine sentiment, therefore, of which a propos of this circumstance some writers have delivered themselves was altogether misplaced. When the difficulty about the passport was overcome, another arose: to enter Bavaria from cholera-stricken Austria a passport of health was required. Thus Chopin had to begin another series of applications, in fact, had to run about for half a day before he obtained this additional document.
Chopin appears to have been rather short of money in the latter part of his stay in Vienna—a state of matters with which the financial failure of the concert may have had something to do. The preparations for his departure brought the pecuniary question still more prominently forward. On June 25, 1831, he writes to his parents:—
I live as economically as possible, and take as much care of every kreuzer as of that ring in Warsaw [the one given him by the Emperor Alexander]. You may sell it, I have already cost you so much.
He must have talked about his shortness of money to some of his friends in Vienna, for he mentions that the pianist-composer Czapek, who calls on him every day and shows him much kindness, has offered him money for the journey should he stand in need of it. One would hardly have credited Chopin with proficiency in an art in which he nevertheless greatly excelled—namely, in the art of writing begging letters. How well he understood how to touch the springs of the parental feelings the following application for funds will prove.
July, 1831.—But I must not forget to mention that I shall probably be obliged to draw more money from the banker Peter than my dear father has allowed me. I am very economical; but, God knows, I cannot help it, for otherwise I should have to leave with an almost empty purse. God preserve me from sickness; were, however, anything to happen to me, you might perhaps reproach me for not having taken more. Pardon me, but consider that I have already lived on this money during May, June, and July, and that I have now to pay more for my dinner than I did in winter. I do not do this only because I myself feel I ought to do so, but also in consequence of the good advice of others. I am very sorry that I have to ask you for it; my papa has already spent more than three groschen for me; I know also very well how difficult it is to earn money. Believe me, my dearest ones, it is harder for me to ask than for you to give. God will not fail to assist us also in the future, punctum!
Chopin was at this time very subject to melancholy, and did not altogether hide the fact even from his parents. He was perhaps thinking of the "lengthening chain" which he would have to drag at this new remove. He often runs into the street to seek Titus Woyciechowski or John Matuszynski. One day he imagines he sees the former walking before him, but on coming up to the supposed friend is disgusted to find "a d—— Prussian."
I lack nothing [he writes in July, 1831] except more life, more spirit! I often feel unstrung, but sometimes as merry as I used to be at home. When I am sad I go to Madame Szaszek's; there I generally meet several amiable Polish ladies who with their hearty, hopeful words always cheer me up, so that I begin at once to imitate the generals here. This is a fresh joke of mine; but those who saw it almost died with laughing. But alas, there are days when not two words can be got out of me, nor can anyone find out what is the matter with me; then, to divert myself, I generally take a thirty-kreuzer drive to Hietzing, or somewhere else in the neighbourhood of Vienna.
This is a valuable bit of autobiography; it sets forth clearly Chopin's proneness to melancholy, which, however, easily gave way to his sportiveness. That low spirits and scantiness of money did not prevent Chopin from thoroughly enjoying himself may be gathered from many indications in his letters; of these I shall select his descriptions of two excursions in the neighbourhood of Vienna, which not only make us better acquainted with the writer, but also are interesting in themselves.
June 25, 1831.—The day before yesterday we were with Kumelski and Czapek…on the Kahlenberg and Leopoldsberg. It was a magnificent day; I have never had a finer walk. From the Leopoldsberg one sees all Vienna, Wagram, Aspern, Pressburg, even Kloster-Neuburg, the castle in which Richard the Lion-hearted lived for a long time as a prisoner. Also the whole of the upper part of the Danube lay before our eyes. After breakfast we ascended the Kahlenberg, where King John Sobieski pitched his camp and caused the rockets to be fired which announced to Count Starhemberg, the commandant of Vienna, the approach of the Polish army. There is the Camaldolese Monastery in which the King knighted his son James before the attack on the Turks and himself served as acolyte at the Mass. I enclose for Isabella a little leaf from that spot, which is now covered with plants. From there we went in the evening to the Krapfenwald, a beautiful valley, where we saw a comical boys' trick. The little fellows had enveloped themselves from head to foot in leaves and looked like walking bushes. In this costume they crept from one visitor to another. Such a boy covered with leaves and his head adorned with twigs is called a "Pfingstkonig" [Whitsuntide-King]. This drollery is customary here at Whitsuntide.
The second excursion is thus described:—