Mendelssohn, who came to Paris early in December, 1831, and stayed there till about the middle of April, 1832, associated a good deal with this set of striving artists. The diminutive "Chopinetto," which he makes use of in his letters to Hiller, indicates not only Chopin's delicate constitution of body and mind and social amiability, but also Mendelssohn's kindly feeling for him. [Footnote: Chopin is not mentioned in any of Mendelssohn's Paris letters. But the following words may refer to him; for although Mendelssohn did not play at Chopin's concert, there may have been some talk of his doing so. January 14, 1832: "Next week a Pole gives a concert; in it I have to play a piece for six performers with Kalkbrenner, Hiller and Co." Osborne related in his "Reminiscences of Frederick Chopin," a paper read before a meeting of the Musical Association (April 5, 1880), that he, Chopin, Hiller, and Mendelssohn, during the latter's stay in Paris, frequently dined together at a restaurant. They ordered and paid the dinner in turn. One evening at dessert they had a very animated conversation about authors and their manuscripts. When they were ready to leave Osborne called the waiter, but instead of asking for la note a payer, he said "Garcon, apportez- moi votre manuscrit." This sally of the mercurial Irishman was received with hearty laughter, Chopin especially being much tickled by the profanation of the word so sacred to authors. From the same source we learn also that Chopin took delight in repeating the criticisms on his performances which he at one time or other had chanced to overhear.
Not the least interesting and significant incident in Chopin's life was his first meeting and early connection with Kalkbrenner, who at that time—when Liszt and Thalberg had not yet taken possession of the commanding positions they afterwards occupied—enjoyed the most brilliant reputation of all the pianists then living. On December 16, 1831, Chopin writes to his friend Woyciechowski:—
You may easily imagine how curious I was to hear Herz and Hiller play; they are ciphers compared with Kalkbrenner. Honestly speaking, I play as well as Herz, but I wish I could play as well as Kalkbrenner. If Paganini is perfect, so also is he, but in quite another way. His repose, his enchanting touch, the smoothness of his playing, I cannot describe to you, one recognises the master in every note—he is a giant who throws all other artists into the shade. When I visited him, he begged me to play him something. What was I to do? As I had heard Herz, I took courage, seated myself at the instrument, and played my E minor Concerto, which charmed the people of the Bavarian capital so much. Kalkbrenner was astonished, and asked me if I were a pupil of Field's. He remarked that I had the style of Cramer, but the touch of Field. It amused me that Kalkbrenner, when he played to me, made a mistake and did not know how to go on; but it was wonderful to hear how he found his way again. Since this meeting we see each other daily, either he calls on me or I on him. He proposed to teach me for three years and make a great artist of me. I told him that I knew very well what I still lacked; but I will not imitate him, and three years are too much for me. He has convinced me that I play well only when I am in the right mood for it, but less well when this is not the case. This cannot be said of Kalkbrenner, his playing is always the same. When he had watched me for a long time, he came to the conclusion that I had no method; that I was indeed on a very good path, but might easily go astray; and that when he ceased to play, there would no longer be a representative of the grand pianoforte school left. I cannot create a new school, however much I may wish to do so, because I do not even know the old one; but I know that my tone-poems have some individuality in them, and that I always strive to advance.
If you were here, you would say "Learn, young man, as long as you have an opportunity to do so!" But many dissuade me from taking lessons, are of opinion that I play as well as Kalkbrenner, and that it is only vanity that makes him wish to have me for his pupil. That is nonsense. Whoever knows anything of music must think highly of Kalkbrenner's talent, although he is disliked as a man because he will not associate with everybody. But I assure you there is in him something higher than in all the virtuosos whom I have as yet heard. I have said this in a letter to my parents, who quite understand it. Elsner, however, does not comprehend it, and regards it as jealousy on Kalkbrenner's part that he not only praises me, but also wishes that my playing were in some respects different from what it is. In spite of all this I may tell you confidentially that I have already a distinguished name among the artists here.
Elsner expressed his astonishment that Kalkbrenner should require three years to reveal to Chopin the secrets of his art, and advised his former pupil not to confine the exercise of his musical talent to pianoforte-playing and the composition of pianoforte music. Chopin replies to this in a letter written on December 14, 1831, as follows:—
In the beginning of last year, although I knew what I yet lacked, and how very far I still was from equalling the model I have in you, I nevertheless ventured to think, "I will approach him, and if I cannot produce, a Lokietek ["the short," surname of a king of Poland; Elsner had composed an opera of that name], I may perhaps give to the world a Laskonogi ["the thin-legged," surname of another king of Poland]." To-day all such hopes are annihilated; I am forced to think of making my way in the world as a pianist. For some time I must keep in the background the higher artistic aim of which you wrote to me. In order to be a great composer one must possess, in addition to creative power, experience and the faculty of self-criticism, which, as you have taught me, one obtains not only by listening to the works of others, but still more by means of a careful critical examination of one's own.
After describing the difficulties which lie in the way of the opera composer, he proceeds:—
It is my conviction that he is the happier man who is able to execute his compositions himself. I am known here and there in Germany as a pianist; several musical journals have spoken highly of my concerts, and expressed the hope of seeing me soon take a prominent position among the first pianoforte- virtuosos. I had to-day anopportunity or fulfilling the promise I had made to myself. Why should I not embrace it?… I should not like to learn pianoforte-playing in Germany, for there no one could tell me precisely what it was that I lacked. I, too, have not seen the beam in my eye. Three years' study is far too much. Kalkbrenner, when he had heard me repeatedly, came to see that himself. From this you may see that a true meritorious virtuoso does not know the feeling of envy. I would certainly make up my mind to study for three years longer if I were certain that I should then reach the aim which I have kept in view. So much is clear to me, I shall never become a copy of Kalkbrenner; he will not be able to break my perhaps bold but noble resolve—TO CREATE A NEW ART-ERA. If I now continue my studies, I do so only in order to stand at some future time on my own feet. It was not difficult for Ries, who was then already recognised as a celebrated pianist, to win laurels at Berlin, Frankfort-on- the-Main, Dresden, &c., by his opera Die Rauberbraut. And how long was Spohr known as an excellent violinist before he had written Faust, Jessonda, and other works? I hope you will not deny me your blessing when you see on what grounds and with what intentions I struggle onwards.
This is one of the most important letters we have of Chopin; it brings before us, not the sighing lover, the sentimental friend, but the courageous artist. On no other occasion did he write so freely and fully of his views and aims. What heroic self- confidence, noble resolves, vast projects, flattering dreams! And how sad to think that most of them were doomed to end in failure and disappointment! But few are the lives of true artists that can really be called happy! Even the most successful have, in view of the ideally conceived, to deplore the quantitative and qualitative shortcomings of the actually accomplished. But to return to Kalkbrenner. Of him Chopin said truly that he was not a popular man; at any rate, he was not a popular man with the romanticists. Hiller tells us in his "Recollections and Letters of Mendelssohn" how little grateful he and his friends, Mendelssohn included, were for Kalkbrenner's civilities, and what a wicked pleasure they took in worrying him. Sitting one day in front of a cafe on the Boulevard des Italiens, Hiller, Liszt, and Chopin saw the prim master advancing, and knowing how disagreeable it would be to him to meet such a noisy company, they surrounded him in the friendliest manner, and assailed him with such a volley of talk that he was nearly driven to despair, which, adds Hiller, "of course delighted us." It must be confessed that the great Kalkbrenner, as M. Marmontel in his "Pianistes celebres" remarks, had "certaines etroitesses de caractere," and these "narrownesses" were of a kind that particularly provokes the ridicule of unconventional and irreverent minds. Heine is never more biting than when he speaks of Kalkbrenner. He calls him a mummy, and describes him as being dead long ago and having lately also married. This, however, was some years after the time we are speaking of. On another occasion Heine writes that Kalkbrenner is envied
for his elegant manners, for his polish and sweetishness, and for his whole marchpane-like appearance, in which, however, ihe calm observer discovers a shabby admixture of involuntary Berlinisms of the lowest class, so that Koreff could say of the man as wittily as correctly: "He looks like a bon-bon that has been in the mud."