Chopin: The Man and His Music | Page 7

Dan Cupid. Chopin must
have played well. He said so himself, and he was always a cautious
self-critic despite his pride. His vanity and girlishness peep out in his
recital by the response to a quartet of recalls: "I believe I did it
yesterday with a certain grace, for Brandt had taught me how to do it

properly." He is not speaking of his poetic performance, but of his bow
to the public. As he formerly spoke to his mother of his pretty collar, so
as young man he makes much of his deportment. But it is all quite in
the role; scratch an artist and you surprise a child.
Of course, Constantia sang wonderfully. "Her low B came out so
magnificently that Zielinski declared it alone was worth a thousand
ducats." Ah, these enamored ones! Chopin left Warsaw November 1,
1830, for Vienna and without declaring his love. Or was he a rejected
suitor? History is dumb. He never saw his Gladowska again, for he did
not return to Warsaw. The lady was married in 1832--preferring a solid
certainty to nebulous genius- -to Joseph Grabowski, a merchant at
Warsaw. Her husband, so saith a romantic biographer, Count
Wodzinski, became blind; perhaps even a blind country gentleman was
preferable to a lachrymose pianist. Chopin must have heard of the
attachment in 1831. Her name almost disappears from his
correspondence. Time as well as other nails drove from his memory her
image. If she was fickle, he was inconstant, and so let us waste no pity
on this episode, over which lakes of tears have been shed and rivers of
ink have been spilt.
Chopin was accompanied by Elsner and a party of friends as far as
Wola, a short distance from Warsaw. There the pupils of the
Conservatory sang a cantata by Elsner, and after a banquet he was
given a silver goblet filled with Polish earth, being adjured, so
Karasowski relates, never to forget his country or his friends wherever
he might wander. Chopin, his heart full of sorrow, left home, parents,
friends, and "ideal," severed with his youth, and went forth in the world
with the keyboard and a brain full of beautiful music as his only
weapons.
At Kaliz he was joined by the faithful Titus, and the two went to
Breslau, where they spent four days, going to the theatre and listening
to music. Chopin played quite impromptu two movements of his E
minor concerto, supplanting a tremulous amateur. In Dresden where
they arrived November 10, they enjoyed themselves with music.
Chopin went to a soiree at Dr. Kreyssig's and was overwhelmed at the
sight of a circle of dames armed with knitting needles which they used
during the intervals of music-making in the most formidable manner.
He heard Auber and Rossini operas and Rolla, the Italian violinist, and

listened with delight to Dotzauer and Kummer the violoncellists--the
cello being an instrument for which he had a consuming affection.
Rubini, the brother of the great tenor, he met, and was promised
important letters of introduction if he desired to visit Italy. He saw
Klengel again, who told the young Pole, thereby pleasing him very
much, that his playing was like John Field's. Prague was also visited,
and he arrived at Vienna in November. There he confidently expected a
repetition of his former successes, but was disappointed. Haslinger
received him coldly and refused to print his variations or concerto
unless he got them for nothing. Chopin's first brush with the hated tribe
of publishers begins here, and he adopts as his motto the pleasing
device, "Pay, thou animal," a motto he strictly adhered to; in money
matters Chopin was very particular. The bulk of his extant
correspondence is devoted to the exposure of the ways and wiles of
music publishers. "Animal" is the mildest term he applies to them,
"Jew" the most frequent objurgation. After all Chopin was very Polish.
He missed his friends the Blahetkas, who had gone to Stuttgart, and
altogether did not find things so promising as formerly. No profitable
engagements could be secured, and, to cap his misery, Titus, his other
self, left him to join the revolutionists in Poland November 30. His
letters reflect his mental agitation and terror over his parents' safety. A
thousand times he thought of renouncing his artistic ambitions and
rushing to Poland to fight for his country. He never did, and his
indecision--it was not cowardice--is our gain. Chopin put his patriotism,
his wrath and his heroism into his Polonaises. That is why we have
them now, instead of Chopin having been the target of some
black-browed Russian. Chopin was psychically brave; let us not cavil
at the almost miraculous delicacy of his organization. He wrote letters
to his parents and to Matuszyriski, but they are not despairing-- at