confirmed by the singers in rarely performing them and by the public in little caring for them. In short, Chopin's songs add nothing to his fame. To mention them in one breath with those of Schubert and Schumann, or even with those of Robert Franz and Adolf Jensen, is the act of an hero-worshipping enthusiast, not of a discriminating critic.
On two points, often commented upon by critics, I feel regret, although not repentance--namely, on any "anecdotic iconoclasm" where fact refuted fancy, and on my abstention from pronouncing judgments where the evidence was inconclusive. But how can a conscientious biographer help this ungraciousness and inaccommodativeness? Is it not his duty to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, in order that his subject may stand out unobstructed and shine forth unclouded?
In conclusion, two instances of careless reading. One critic, after attributing a remark of Chopin's to me, exclaims: "The author is fond of such violent jumps to conclusions." And an author, most benevolently inclined towards me, enjoyed the humour of my first "literally ratting" George Sand, and then saying that I "abstained from pronouncing judgment because the complete evidence did not warrant my doing so." The former (in vol. i.) had to do with George Sand's character; the latter (in vol. ii.) with the moral aspect of her connection with Chopin.
An enumeration of the more notable books dealing with Chopin, published after the issue of the earlier editions of the present book will form an appropriate coda to this preface--"Frederic Francois Chopin," by Charles Willeby; "Chopin, and Other Musical Essays," by Henry T. Finck; "Studies in Modern Music" (containing an essay on Chopin), by W. H. Hadow; "Chopin's Greater Works," by Jean Kleczynski, translated by Natalie Janotha; and "Chopin: the Man and his Music," by James Huneker.
Edinburgh, February, 1902.
PROEM.
POLAND AND THE POLES.
THE works of no composer of equal importance bear so striking a national impress as those of Chopin. It would, however, be an error to attribute this simply and solely to the superior force of the Polish musician's patriotism. The same force of patriotism in an Italian, Frenchman, German, or Englishman would not have produced a similar result. Characteristics such as distinguish Chopin's music presuppose a nation as peculiarly endowed, constituted, situated, and conditioned, as the Polish--a nation with a history as brilliant and dark, as fair and hideous, as romantic and tragic. The peculiarities of the peoples of western Europe have been considerably modified, if not entirely levelled, by centuries of international intercourse; the peoples of the eastern part of the Continent, on the other hand, have, until recent times, kept theirs almost intact, foreign influences penetrating to no depth, affecting indeed no more than the aristocratic few, and them only superficially. At any rate, the Slavonic races have not been moulded by the Germanic and Romanic races as these latter have moulded each other: east and west remain still apart--strangers, if not enemies. Seeing how deeply rooted Chopin's music is in the national soil, and considering how little is generally known about Poland and the Poles, the necessity of paying in this case more attention to the land of the artist's birth and the people to which he belongs than is usually done in biographies of artists, will be admitted by all who wish to understand fully and appreciate rightly the poet- musician and his works. But while taking note of what is of national origin in Chopin's music, we must be careful not to ascribe to this origin too much. Indeed, the fact that the personal individuality of Chopin is as markedly differentiated, as exclusively self-contained, as the national individuality of Poland, is oftener overlooked than the master's national descent and its significance with regard to his artistic production. And now, having made the reader acquainted with the raison d'etre of this proem, I shall plunge without further preliminaries in medias res.
The palmy days of Poland came to an end soon after the extinction of the dynasty of the Jagellons in 1572. So early as 1661 King John Casimir warned the nobles, whose insubordination and want of solidity, whose love of outside glitter and tumult, he deplored, that, unless they remedied the existing evils, reformed their pretended free elections, and renounced their personal privileges, the noble kingdom would become the prey of other nations. Nor was this the first warning. The Jesuit Peter Skarga (1536--1612), an indefatigable denunciator of the vices of the ruling classes, told them in 1605 that their dissensions would bring them under the yoke of those who hated them, deprive them of king and country, drive them into exile, and make them despised by those who formerly feared and respected them. But these warnings remained unheeded, and the prophecies were fulfilled to the letter. Elective kingship, pacta conventa, [Footnote: Terms which a
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.