CHAPTER XXXI.

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CHOPIN'S ARRIVAL IN LONDON.—MUSICAL ASPECT OF THE BRITISH METROPOLIS IN 1848.—CULTIVATION OF CHOPIN'S MUSIC IN ENGLAND.—CHOPIN AT EVENING PARTIES, &C.—LETTERS GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS DOINGS AND FEELINGS.—TWO MATINEES MUSICALES GIVEN BY CHOPIN; CRITICISMS ON THEM.—ANOTHER LETTER.—KINDNESS SHOWN HIM.—CHOPIN STARTS FOR SCOTLAND.—A LETTER WRITTEN AT EDINBURGH AND CALDER HOUSE.—HIS SCOTCH FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES.—HIS STAY AT DR. LYSCHINSKl'S.—PLAYS AT A CONCERT IN MANCHESTER.—RETURNS TO SCOTLAND, AND GIVES A MATINEE MUSICALE IN GLASGOW AND IN EDINBURGH.—MORE LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND.—BACK TO LONDON.—OTHER LETTERS.—PLAYS AT A "GRAND POLISH BALL AND CONCERT" IN THE GUILDHALL.—LAST LETTER FROM LONDON, AND JOURNEY AND RETURN TO PARIS.

CHOPIN arrived in London, according to Mr. A. J. Hipkins, on April 21, 1848.

[FOOTNOTE: The indebtedness of two writers on Chopin to Mr. Hipkins has already been adverted to in the Preface. But his vivid recollection of Chopin's visit to London in this year, and of the qualities of his playing, has been found of great value also in other published notices dealing with this period. The present writer has to thank Mr. Hipkins, apart from second-hand obligations, for various suggestions, answers to inquiries, and reading the proof-sheets of this chapter.]

He took up his quarters first at 10, Bentinck Street, but soon removed to the house indicated in the following letter, written by him to Franchomme on May 1, 1848:—

Dearest friend,—Here I am, just settled. I have at last a
room—fine and large—where I shall be able to breathe and
play, and the sun visits me to-day for the first time. I feel
less suffocated this morning, but all last week I was good for
nothing. How are you and your wife and the dear children? You
begin at last to become more tranquil, [FOOTNOTE: This, I
think, refers to some loss Franchomme had sustained in his
family] do you not? I have some tiresome visits; my letters of
introduction are not yet delivered. I trifle away my time, and
VOILA. I love you, and once more VOILA.

Yours with all my heart.

My kindest regards to Madame Franchomme.
48, Dover Street.
Write to me, I will write to you also.

Were Chopin now to make his appearance in London, what a stir there would be in musical society! In 1848 Billet, Osborne, Kalkbrenner, Halle, and especially Thalberg, who came about the same time across the channel, caused more curiosity. By the way, England was just then heroically enduring an artistic invasion such as had never been seen before; not only from France, but also from Germany and other musical countries arrived day after day musicians who had found that their occupation was gone on the Continent, where people could think of nothing but politics and revolutions. To enumerate all the celebrities then congregated in the British Metropolis would be beyond my power and the scope of this publication, but I must at least mention that among them was no less eminent a creative genius than Berlioz, no less brilliant a vocal star than Pauline Viardot-Garcia. Of other high-priests and high-priestesses of the art we shall hear in the sequel. But although Chopin did not set the Thames on fire, his visit was not altogether ignored by the press. Especially the Athenaeum (H. F. Chorley) and the Musical World (J. W. Davison) honoured themselves by the notice they took of the artist. The former journal not only announced (on April 29) his arrival, but also some weeks previously (on April 8) his prospective advent, saying: "M. Chopin's visit is an event for which we most heartily thank the French Republic."

In those days, and for a long time after, the appreciation and cultivation of Chopin's music was in England confined to a select few. Mr. Hipkins told me that he "had to struggle for years to gain adherents to Chopin's music, while enduring the good-humoured banter of Sterndale Bennett and J. W. Davison." The latter—the author of An Essay on the Works of Frederic Chopin (London, 1843), the first publication of some length on the subject, and a Preface to, or, to be more precise, a Memoir prefixed to Boosey & Co.'s The Mazurkas and Valses of F. Chopin—seems to have in later years changed his early good opinion of the Polish master.

[FOOTNOTE: Two suggestions have been made to me in explanation of this change of opinion: it may have been due to the fear that the rising glory of Chopin might dim that of Mendelssohn; or Davison may have taken umbrage at Chopin's conduct in an affair relative to Mendelssohn. I shall not discuss the probability of these suggestions, but will say a few words with regard to the last-mentioned matter. My source of information is a Paris letter in the Musical World of December 4, 1847. After the death of Mendelssohn some foreign musicians living in Paris proposed to send a letter of condolence to Mrs. Mendelssohn. One part of the letter ran thus: "May it be permitted to us, German artists, far from our country, to offer," &c. The signatures to it were: Rosenhain, Kalkbrenner, Panofka, Heller, Halle, Pixis, and Wolff. Chopin when applied to for his signature wrote: "La lettre venant des Allemands, comment voulez-vous que je m'arroge le droit de la signer?" One would think that no reasonable being could take exception to Chopin's conduct in this affair, and yet the writer in the Musical World comments most venomously on it.]

The battle fought in the pages of the Musical World in 1841 illustrates the then state of matters in England. Hostilities commenced on October 28 with a criticism of the Mazurkas, Op. 41. Of its unparalleled nature the reader shall judge himself:—

Monsieur Frederic Chopin has, by some means or other which we
cannot divine, obtained an enormous reputation, a reputation
but too often refused to composers of ten times his genius. M.
Chopin is by no means a putter down of commonplaces; but he
is, what by many would be esteemed worse, a dealer in the most
absurd and hyperbolical extravagances. It is a striking satire
on the capability for thought possessed by the musical
profession, that so very crude and limited a writer should be
esteemed, as he is very generally, a profound classical
musician. M. Chopin does not want ideas, but they never extend
beyond eight or sixteen bars at the utmost, and then he is
invariably in nubibus... the works of the composer give us
invariably the idea of an enthusiastic school-boy, whose parts
are by no means on a par with his enthusiasm, who WILL be
original whether he CAN or not. There is a clumsiness about
his harmonies in the midst of their affected strangeness, a
sickliness about his melodies despite their evidently FORCED
unlikeness to familiar phrases, an utter ignorance of design
everywhere apparent in his lengthened works...The entire works
of Chopin present a motley surface of ranting hyperbole and
excruciating cacophony. When he is not THUS singular, he is no
better than Strauss or any other waltz compounder... such as
admire Chopin, and they are legion, will admire these
Mazurkas, which are supereminently Chopin-ical; that do NOT
we.

Wessel and Stapleton, the publishers, protested against this shameful criticism, defending Chopin and adducing the opinions of numerous musicians in support of their own. But the valorous editor "ventures to assure the distinguished critics and the publishers that there will be no difficulty in pointing out a hundred palpable faults, and an infinitude of meretricious uglinesses, such as, to real taste and judgment, are intolerable." Three more letters appeared in the following numbers—two for (Amateur and Professor) and one against (Inquirer) Chopin; the editor continuing to insist with as much violence as stupidity that he was right. It is pleasant to turn from this senseless opposition to the friends and admirers of the master. Of them we learn something in Davison's Essay on the Works of F. Chopin, from which I must quote a few passages:—

This Concerto [the E minor] has been made known to the
amateurs of music in England by the artist-like performance of
Messrs. W. H. Holmes, F. B. Jewson, H. B. Richards, R.
Barnett, and other distinguished members of the Royal Academy,
where it is a stock piece...The Concerto [in F minor] has been
made widely known of late by the clever performance of that
true little prodigy Demoiselle Sophie Bohrer....These charming
bagatelles [the Mazurkas] have been made widely known in
England through the instrumentality of Mr. Moscheles, Mr.
Cipriani Potter, Mr. Kiallmark, Madame de Belleville-Oury, Mr.
Henry Field (of Bath), Mr. Werner, and other eminent pianists,
who enthusiastically admire and universally recommend them to
their pupils...To hear one of those eloquent streams of pure
loveliness [the nocturnes] delivered by such pianists as
Edouard Pirkhert, William Holmes, or Henry Field, a pleasure
we frequently enjoyed, is the very transcendency of delight.

[FOOTNOTE: Information about the above-named pianists may be
found in the musical biographical dictionaries, with three
exceptions-namely, Kiallmark, Werner, and Pirkhert. George
Frederick Kiallmark (b. November 7, 1804; d. December 13,
1887), a son of the violinist and composer George Kiallmark,
was for many years a leading professor in London. He is said
to have had a thorough appreciation and understanding of
Chopin's genius, and even in his last years played much of
that master's music. He took especial delight in playing
Chopin's Nocturnes, no Sunday ever passed without his family
hearing him play two or three of them.—Louis Werner (whose
real name was Levi) was the son of a wealthy and esteemed
Jewish family living at Clapham. He studied music in London
under Moscheles, and, though not an eminent pianist, was a
good teacher. His amiability assured him a warm welcome in
society.—Eduard Pirkhert died at Vienna, aged 63, on February
28, 1881. To Mr. Ernst Pauer, who is never appealed to in
vain, I am indebted for the following data as well as for the
subject—matter of my notice on Werner: "Eduard Pirkhert, born
at Graz in 1817, was a pupil of Anton Halm and Carl Czerny. He
was a shy and enormously diligent artist, who, however, on
account of his nervousness, played, like Henselt, rarely in
public. His execution was extraordinary and his tone
beautiful. In 1855 he became professor at the Vienna
Conservatorium." Mr. Pauer never heard him play Chopin.]

After this historical excursus let us take up again the record of our hero's doings and sufferings in London.

Chopin seems to have gone to a great many parties of various kinds, but he could not always be prevailed upon to give the company a taste of his artistic quality. Brinley Richards saw him at an evening party at the house of the politician Milner Gibson, where he did not play, although he was asked to do so. According to Mr. Hueffer, [FOOTNOTE: Chopin in Fortnightly Review of September, 1877, reprinted in Musical Studies (Edinburgh: A. & C. Black, 1880).] he attended, likewise without playing, an evening party (May 6) at the house of the historian Grote. Sometimes ill-health prevented him from fulfilling his engagements; this, for instance, was the case on the occasion of a dinner which Macready is said to have given in his honour, and to which Thackeray, Mrs. Procter, Berlioz, and Julius Benedict were invited. On the other hand, Chopin was heard at the Countess of Blessington's (Gore House, Kensington) and the Duchess of Sutherland's (Stafford House). On the latter occasion Benedict played with him a duet of Mozart's. More than thirty years after, Sir Julius had still a clear recollection of "the great pains Chopin insisted should be taken in rehearsing it, to make the rendering of it at the concert as perfect as possible." John Ella heard Chopin play at Benedict's. Of another of Chopin's private performances in the spring of 1848 we read in the Supplement du Dictionnaire de la Conversation, where Fiorentino writes:

We were at most ten or twelve in a homely, comfortable little
salon, equally propitious to conversation and contemplation.
Chopin took the place of Madame Viardot at the piano, and
plunged us into ineffable raptures. I do not know what he
played to us; I do not know how long our ecstasy lasted: we
were no longer on earth; he had transported us into unknown
regions, into a sphere of flame and azure, where the soul,
freed from all corporeal bonds, floats towards the infinite.
This was, alas! the song of the swan.

The sequel will show that the concluding sentence is no more than a flourish of the pen. Whether Chopin played at Court, as he says in a letter to Gutmann he expected to do, I have not ascertained. Nor have I been able to get any information about a dinner which, Karasowski relates, some forty countrymen of Chopin's got up in his honour when they heard of his arrival in London. According to this authority the pianist-composer rose when the proceedings were drawing to an end, and many speeches extolling him as a musician and patriot had been made, and spoke, if not these words, to this effect: "My dear countrymen! The proofs of your attachment and love which you have just given me have truly moved me. I wish to thank you, but lack the talent of expressing my feelings in words; I invite you therefore to accompany me to my lodgings and to receive there my thanks at the piano." The proposal was received with enthusiasm, and Chopin played to his delighted and insatiable auditors till two o'clock in the morning. What a crush, these forty or more people in Chopin's lodgings! However, that is no business of mine.

[FOOTNOTE: After reading the above, Mr. Hipkins remarked: "I fancy this dinner resembled the dinner which will go down to posterity as given by the Hungarians of London to Liszt in 1886, which was really a private dinner given by Mrs. Bretherton to fifteen people, of whom her children and mine were four. NO Hungarians."]

The documents—letters and newspaper advertisements and notices—bearing on this period of Chopin's life are so plentiful that they tell the story without the help of many additions and explanatory notes. This is satisfactory, for one grain of fact is more precious than a bushel of guesses and hearsays.

Chopin to Gutmann; London, 48, Dover Street, Piccadilly,
Saturday, May 6, 1848:—

Dear friend,—Here I am at last, settled in this whirlpool of
London. It is only a few days since I began to breathe; for it
is only a few days since the sun showed itself. I have seen M.
D'Orsay, and notwithstanding all the delay of my letter he
received me very well. Be so good as to thank the duchess for
me and him. I have not yet made all my calls, for many persons
to whom I have letters of introduction are not yet here. Erard
was charming; he sent me a piano. I have a Broadwood and a
Pleyel, which makes three, and yet I do not find time to play
them. I have many visitors, and my days pass like lightning—I
have not even had a moment to write to Pleyel. Let me know how
you are getting on. In what state of mind are you? How are
your people? With my people things are not going well. I am
much vexed about this. In spite of that I must think of making
a public appearance; a proposal has been made to me to play at
the Philharmonic, [FOOTNOTE: "Chopin, we are told," says the
Musical World of May 27, 1848, "was invited to play at the
Philharmonic, but declined."] but I would rather not. I shall
apparently finish off, after playing at Court before the Queen
[chez la reine], by giving a matinee, limited to a number of
persons, at a private residence [hotel particulier]. I wish
that this would terminate thus. But these projects are only
projects in the air. Write to me a great deal about yourself.
—Yours ever, my old Gut.,
CHOPIN.

P.S.—I heard the other evening Mdlle. Lind in La Sonnambula.
[FOOTNOTE: Jenny Lind made her first appearance at Her
Majesty's Theatre in the season 1848, on May 4, as Amina, in
La Sonnambula. The Queen was present on that occasion. Pauline
Garcia made her first appearance, likewise as Amina, at Covent
Garden Theatre, on May 9.] It was very fine; I have made her
acquaintance. Madame Viardot also came to see me. She will
make her debuts at the rival theatre [Covent Garden], likewise
in La Sonnambula. All the pianists of Paris are here. Prudent
played his Concerto at the Philharmonic with little success,
for it is necessary to play classical music there. Thalberg is
engaged for twelve concerts at the theatre where Lind is [Her
Majesty's, Haymarket]. Halle is going to play Mendelssohn at
the rival theatre.
Chopin to his friend Grzymala; Thursday, May 11, 1848:—

I have just come from the Italian Opera, where Jenny Lind
appeared to-day, for the first time, as Sonnambula, and the
Queen showed herself for the first time to the people after a
long retirement. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin must have begun this letter
on the 4th of May, and dated it later on; for on the 11th of
May Jenny Lind sang in La Figlia del Reggimento, and the
presence of the Queen at the performance is not mentioned in
the newspaper accounts of it. See preceding foot-note.] Both
were, of course, of much interest to me; more especially,
however, Wellington, who, like an old, faithful dog in a
cottage, sat in the box below his crowned mistress. I have
also made Jenny Lind's personal acquaintance: when, a few days
afterwards, I paid her a visit, she received me in the most
amiable manner, and sent me an excellent "stall" for the opera
performance. I was capitally seated and heard excellently.
This Swede is indeed an original from top to toe! She does not
show herself in the ordinary light, but in the magic rays of
an aurora borealis. Her singing is infallibly pure and sure;
but what I admired most was her piano, which has an
indescribable charm. "Your

FREDERICK.

Of Chopin's visit Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt had to the last years of her life a most pleasing and vivid recollection. She sang to him Polskas, [FOOTNOTE: Polskas are dances of Polish origin, popular in Sweden, whose introduction dates from the time of the union of the crowns of Sweden and Poland in 1587.] which delighted him greatly. The way Madame Goldschmidt spoke of Chopin showed unmistakably that he made the best possible impression upon her, not only as an artist, but also as a man—she was sure of his goodness, and that he could not but have been right in the Sand affair, I mean as regards the rupture. She visited him when she went in the following year (1849) to Paris.

In his letter to Gutmann, Chopin speaks of his intention to give a matinee at a private house. And he more than realised it; for he not only gave one, but two—the first at the house of Mrs. Sartoris (nee Adelaide Kemble) and the second at the house of Lord Falmouth. Here are two advertisements which appeared in the Times.

June 15, 1848:—

Monsieur Chopin will give a Matinee musicale, at No. 99, Eaton
Place, on Friday, June 23, to commence at 3 o'clock. A limited
number of tickets, one guinea each, with full particulars, at
Cramer, Beale & Co.'s, 201, Regent Street.
July 3 and 4, 1848:—

Monsieur Chopin begs to announce that his second Matinee
musicale will take place on Friday next, July 7, at the
residence of the Earl of Falmouth, No. 2, St. James's Square.
To commence at half-past 3. Tickets, limited in number, and
full particulars at Cramer, Beale & Co.'s, 201, Regent Street.
The Musical World (July 8, 1848) says about these
performances:—

M. Chopin has lately given two performances of his own
pianoforte music at the residence of Mrs. Sartoris (late Miss
Adelaide Kemble), which seem to have given much pleasure to
his audiences, among whom Mdlle. Lind, who was present at the
first, seems to be the most enthusiastic. We were not present
at either, and, therefore, have nothing to say on the subject.

[FOOTNOTE: Of course, the above-quoted advertisements prove
the reporter to be wrong in this particular; there was only
one at the house of Mrs. Sartoris.]

From an account of the first matinee in the Athenaeum we learn that Chopin played nocturnes, etudes, mazurkas, two waltzes, and the Berceuse, but none of his more developed works, such as sonatas, concertos, scherzos, and ballades. The critic tries to analyse the master's style of execution—a "mode" in which "delicacy, picturesqueness, elegance, and humour are blended so as to produce that rare thing, a new delight"—pointing out his peculiar fingering, treatment of scale and shake, tempo rubato, &c. But although the critic speaks no less appreciatively of the playing than of the compositions, the tenor of the notice of the second matinee (July 15, 1848) shows that the former left nevertheless something to be desired. "Monsieur Chopin played better at his second than at his first matinee—not with more delicacy (that could hardly be), but with more force and brio." Along with other compositions of his, Chopin played on this occasion his Scherzo in B flat and his Etude in C sharp minor. Another attraction of the matinee was the singing of Madame Viardot-Garcia, "who, besides her inimitable airs with Mdlle. de Mendi, and her queerly-piquant Mazurkas, gave the Cenerentola rondo, graced with great brilliancy; and a song by Beethoven, 'Ich denke dein.'"

[FOOTNOTE: No doubt, those Mazurkas by Chopin which, adapting to them Spanish words, she had arranged for voice and piano. Hiller wrote mostenthusiastically of these arrangements and her performance of them.]

Mr. Salaman said, at a meeting of the London Musical Association (April 5, 1880), in the course of a discussion on the subject of Chopin, that he was present at the matinee at the house of Mrs. Sartoris, and would never forget the concert-giver's playing, especially of the waltz in D flat. "I remember every bar, how he played it, and the appearance of his long, attenuated fingers during the time he was playing. [FOOTNOTE: Their thinness may have made them appear long, but they were not really so. See Appendix III.] He seemed quite exhausted." Mr. Salaman was particularly struck by the delicacy and refinement of Chopin's touch, and the utmost exquisiteness of expression.

To Chopin, as the reader will see in the letter addressed to Franchomme, and dated August 6th and 11th, these semi-public performances had only the one redeeming point—that they procured him much-needed money, otherwise he regarded them as a great annoyance. And this is not to be wondered at, if we consider the physical weakness under which he was then labouring. When Chopin went before these matinees to Broadwood's to try the pianoforte on which he was to play, he had each time to be carried up the flight of stairs which led to the piano-room. Chopin had also to be carried upstairs when he came to a concert which his pupil Lindsay Sloper gave in this year in the Hanover Square Rooms. But nothing brings his miserable condition so vividly before us as his own letters.

Chopin to Grzymala, London, July 18, 1848:—

My best thanks for your kind lines and the accompanying letter
from my people. Heaven be thanked, they are all well; but why
are they concerned about me? I cannot become sadder than I am,
a real joy I have not felt for a long time. Indeed, I feel
nothing at all, I only vegetate, waiting patiently for my end.
Next week I go to Scotland to Lord Torphichen, the brother-in-
law of my Scottish friends, the Misses Stirling, who are
already with him (in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh). He wrote
to me and invited me heartily, as did also Lady Murray, an
influential lady of high rank there, who takes an
extraordinary interest in music, not to mention the many
invitations I have received from various parts of England. But
I cannot wander about from one place to another like a
strolling musician; such a vagabond' life is hateful to me,
and not conducive to my health. I intend to remain in Scotland
till the 29th of August, on which day I go as far as
Manchester, where I am engaged to play in public. I shall play
there twice without orchestra, and receive for this 60
[pounds]. The Alboni comes also, but all this does not
interest me—I just seat myself at the piano, and begin to
play. I shall stay during this time with rich manufacturers,
with whom also Neukomm [FOOTNOTE: Karasowski has Narkomm,
which is, of course, either a misreading or a misprint,
probably the former, as it is to be found in all editions of
his book.] has stayed. What I shall do next I don't know yet.
If only someone could foretell whether I shall not fall sick
here during the winter..."Your

FREDERICK.

Had Chopin, when he left Paris, really in view the possibility of settling in London? There was at the time a rumour of this being the case. The Athenaeum (April 8, 1848), in the note already adverted to, said:—"M. Chopin is expected, if not already here—it is even added to remain in England." But if he embraced the idea at first, he soon began to loosen his grasp of it, and, before long, abandoned it altogether. In his then state of health existence would have been a burden anywhere, but it was a greater one away from his accustomed surroundings. Moreover, English life to be enjoyable requires a robustness of constitution, sentimental and intellectual as well as physical, which the delicately-organised artist, even in his best time, could not boast of. If London and the rest of Britain was not to the mind of Chopin, it was not for want of good-will among the people. Chopin's letters show distinctly that kindness was showered upon him from all sides. And these letters do not by any means contain a complete roll of those who were serviceable to him. The name of Frederick Beale, the publisher, for instance, is not to be found there, and yet he is said, with what truth I do not know, to have attached himself to the tone-poet.

[FOOTNOTE: Mr. Hipkins heard Chopin play at Broadwood's to Beale the Waltzes in D flat major and C sharp minor (Nos. 1 and 2 of Op. 64), subsequently published by Cramer, Beale and Co. But why did the publisher not bring out the whole opus (three waltzes, not two), which had already been in print in France and Germany for nine or ten months? Was his attachment to the composer weaker than his attachment to his cash-box?]

The attentions of the piano-makers, on the other hand, are duly remembered. In connection with them I must not forget to record the fact that Mr. Henry Fowler Broadwood had a concert grand, the first in a complete iron frame, expressly made for Chopin, who, unfortunately, did not live to play upon it.

[FOOTNOTE: For particulars about the Broadwood pianos used by Chopin in England and Scotland (and he used there no others at his public concerts and principal private entertainments), see the List of John Broadwood & Sons' Exhibits at the International Inventions Exhibition (1885), a pamphlet full of interesting information concerning the history and construction of the pianoforte. It is from the pen of A. J. Hipkins.]

A name one misses with surprise in Chopin's letters is that of his Norwegian pupil Tellefsen, who came over from Paris to London, and seems to have devoted himself to his master. [FOOTNOTE: Tellefsen, says Mr. Hipkins, was nearly always with Chopin.] Of his ever-watchful ministering friend Miss Stirling and her relations we shall hear more in the following letters.

Chopin started for Scotland early in August, 1848, for on the 6th August he writes to Franchomme that he had left London a few days before.

Chopin to Franchomme; Edinburgh, August 6 1848. Calder
House, August 11:—

Very dear friend,—I do not know what to say. The best, it
seems to me, is not even to attempt to console you for the
loss of your father. I know your grief—time itself assuages
little such sorrows. I left London a few days ago. I made the
journey to Edinburgh (407 miles) in twelve hours. After having
taken a day's rest in Edinburgh, I went to Calder House,
twelve miles from Edinburgh, the mansion of Lord Torphichen,
brother-in-law of Madame Erskine, where I expect to remain
till the end of the month and to rest after my great doings in
London. I gave two matinees, which it appears have given
pleasure, but which, for all that, did not the less bore me.
Without them, however, I do not know how I could have passed
three months in this dear London, with large apartments
(absolutely necessary), carriage, and valet. My health is not
altogether bad, but I become more feeble, and the air here
does not yet agree with me. Miss Stirling was going to write
to you from London, and asks me to beg you to excuse her. The
fact is that these ladies had many preparations to make before
their journey to Scotland, where they intend to remain some
months. There is in Edinburgh a pupil of yours, Mr. Drechsler,
I believe.

[FOOTNOTE: Louis Drechsler (son of the Dessau violoncellist
Carl Drechsler and uncle of the Edinburgh violoncellist and
conductor Carl Drechsler Hamilton), who came to Edinburgh in
August, 1841, and died there on June 25,1860. From an obituary
notice in a local paper I gather that he studied under
Franchomme in 1845.]

He came to see me in London; he appeared to me a fine young
fellow, and he loves you much. He plays duets [fait de la
musique] with a great lady of this country, Lady Murray, one
of my sexagenarian pupils in London, to whom I have also
promised a visit in her beautiful mansion. [FOOTNOTE: The wife
of Lord (Sir John Archibald) Murray, I think. At any rate,
this lady was very musical and in the habit of playing with
Louis Drechsler.] But I do not know how I shall do it, for I
have promised to be in Manchester on the 28th of August to
play at a concert for 60 pounds. Neukomm is there, and,
provided that he does not improvise on the same day [et pourvu
qu'il ne m'improvise pas le meme jour], I reckon on earning my
60 francs [he means, of course, "60 pounds"].

[FOOTNOTE: Thinking that this remark had some hidden meaning,
I applied to Franchomme for an explanation; but he wrote to me
as follows: "Chopin trouvait que Neukomm etait un musicien
ennuyeux, et il lui etait desagreable de penser que Neukomm
pourrait improviser dans le concert dans lequel il devrait
jouer."]

After that I don't know what will become of me. I should like
very much if they were to give me a pension for life for
having composed nothing, not even an air a la Osborne or
Sowinski (both of them excellent friends), the one an
Irishman, the other a compatriot of mine (I am prouder of them
than of the rejected representative Antoine de Kontski—
Frenchman of the north and animal of the south). [FOOTNOTE:
"Frenchmen of the north" used to be a common appellation of
the Poles.]

After these parentheses, I will tell you truly that I know
[FOOTNOTE: Here probably "not" ought to be added.] what will
become of me in autumn. At any rate, if you get no news from
me do not complain of me, for I think very often of writing to
you. If you see Mdlle. de Rozieres or Grzymala, one or the
other of them will have heard something—if not from me, from
some friends. The park here is very beautiful, the lord of the
manor very excellent, and I am as well as I am permitted to
be. Not one proper musical idea. I am out of my groove; I am
like, for instance, an ass at a masked ball, a chanterelle
[first, i.e., highest string] of a violin on a double bass—
astonished, amazed, lulled to sleep as if I were hearing a
trait [a run or a phrase] of Bodiot [FOOTNOTE: That is,
Charles Nicolas Baudiot (1773-1849), the violoncellist, at one
time professor at the Conservatoire. He published a school and
many compositions for his instrument.] (before the 24th of
February), [FOOTNOTE: The revolution of February 24, 1848.] or
a stroke of the bow of M. Cap [FOOTNOTE: This gentleman was an
amateur player of the violoncello and other stringed
instruments.] (after the June days). [FOOTNOTE: The
insurrection of the Red Republicans on June 23-26, 1848.] I
hope they are still flourishing, for I cannot do without them
in writing. But another real question is, that I hope you have
no friends to deplore in all these terrible affairs. And the
health of Madame Franchomme and of the little children? Write
me a line, and address it to London, care of Mr. Broadwood,
33, Great Pulteney Street, Golden Square. I have here a
perfect (material) tranquillity, and pretty Scotch airs. I
wish I were able to compose a little, were it only to please
these good ladies—Madame Erskine and Mdlle. Stirling. I have
a Broadwood piano in my room, the Pleyel of Miss Stirling in
my salon. I lack neither paper nor pens. I hope that you also
will compose something, and may God grant that I hear it soon
newly born. I have friends in London who advise me to pass
there the winter.—But I shall listen only to my I do not know
what [mon je ne sais quoi]; or, rather, I shall listen to the
last comer—this comes often to the same thing as weighing
well. Adieu dear, dear friend! My most sincere wishes to
Madame Franchomme for her children. I hope that Rene amuses
himself with his bass, that Cecile works well, and that their
little sister always reads her books. Remember me to Madame
Lasserve, I pray you, and correct my orthography as well as my
French.
The following words are written along the margin:—

The people here are ugly, but, it would seem, good. As a
compensation there are charming, apparently mischievous,
cattle, perfect milk, butter, eggs, and tout ce qui s'en suit,
cheese and chickens.

To save the reader from becoming confused by allusions in Chopin's letters to names of unknown persons and places, I will now say a few words about the composer's Scotch friends. The Stirlings of Keir, generally regarded as the principal family of the name, are said to be descended from Walter de Striveline, Strivelyn, or Strivelyng, Lucas of Strivelyng (1370-1449) being the first possessor of Keyr. The family was for about two centuries engaged in the East India and West India trade. Archibald Stirling, the father of the late baronet, went, as William Fraser relates in The Stirlings of Keir, like former younger sons, to Jamaica, where he was a planter for nearly twenty-five years. He succeeded his brother James in 1831, greatly improved the mansion, and died in 1847. When Chopin visited Keir it was in the possession of William Stirling, who, in 1865, became Sir William Stirling-Maxwell (his mother was a daughter of Sir John Maxwell), and is well-known by his literary works—Annals of the Artists of Spain (1848), The Cloister Life of the Emperor Charles V. (1852), Velasquez (1855), &c. He was the uncle of Jane Stirling and Mrs. Erskine, daughters (the former the youngest daughter) of John Stirling, of Kippendavie and Kippenross, and friends of Chopin. W. Hanna, the editor of the Letters of Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, says that Jane Stirling was a cousin and particular friend of Thomas Erskine. The latter used in later life to regard her and the Duchess de Broglie as the most remarkable women he had ever met:—

In her later years she lived much in Paris, and counted among
her friends there Ary Scheffer. In his "Christus Consolator,"
this eminent artist has presented in one of the figures his
ideal of female beauty, and was struck on being first
introduced to Miss Stirling to find in her the almost exact
embodiment of that ideal. She was introduced afterwards in
many of his pictures.

In a letter addressed to Mrs. Schwabe, and dated February 14, 1859, we read about her:—

She was ill for eight weeks, and suffered a great deal...I
know you will feel this deeply, for you could appreciate the
purity and beauty of that stream of love which flowed through
her whole life. I don't think that I ever knew anyone who
seemed more entirely to have given up self, and devoted her
whole being to the good of others. I remember her birth like
yesterday, and I never saw anything in her but what was
lovable from the beginning to the end of her course.

Lindsay Sloper, who lived in Paris from 1841 to 1846, told me that Miss Stirling, who was likewise staying there, took for some time lessons from him. As she wished to become a pupil of Chopin, he spoke to his master about her. Chopin, Lindsay Sloper said, was pleased with her playing, and soon began to like her.

[FOOTNOTE: To the above I must append a cautionary foot-note. In his account to me Lindsay Sloper made two mistakes which prove that his memory was not one of the most trustworthy, and suggest even the possibility that his Miss Stirling was a different person from Chopin's friend. His mistakes were these: he called Mrs. Erskine, who was with Miss Stirling in Paris, her aunt instead of her sister; and thought that Miss Stirling was about eighteen years old when he taught her. The information I shall give farther on seems to show that she was older rather than younger than Chopin; indeed, Mr Hipkins is of opinion that she was in 1848 nearer fifty than forty.]

To her the composer dedicated his Deux Nocturnes, Op. 55, which he published in August, 1844. It was thought that she was in love with Chopin, and there were rumours of their going to be married. Gutmann informed me that Chopin said to him one day when he was ill: "They have married me to Miss Stirling; she might as well marry death." Of Miss Jane Stirling's elder sister Katherine, who, in 1811, married her cousin James Erskine, and lost her husband already in 1816, Thomas Erskine says: "She was an admirable woman, faithful and diligent in all duties, and unwearied in her efforts to help those who needed her help." Lord Torphichen, at whose residence (Calder House, twelve miles from Edinburgh) Chopin passed much of his time in Scotland, was, as we learn from the composer's letters, a brother-in-law of Miss Stirling and Mrs. Erskine. Johnstone Castle (twelve miles from Glasgow), where Chopin was also received as a guest, belonged to the Houston family, friends of the Erskines and Stirlings, but, I think, no relations. The death of Ludovic Houston, Esq., in 1862, is alluded to in one of Thomas Erskine's letters.

But Chopin, while in Scotland, was not always staying in manors and castles, now and then he was housed less aristocratically, though perhaps not less, nay, probably more, comfortably. Such humbler quarters he found at the house (10, Warriston Crescent) of Dr. Lyschinski, a Pole by birth, and a refugee, who after studying medicine in Edinburgh practised it there until a few years ago when he removed to London. For the information which I am now going to give I am indebted to Mrs. Lyschinski. Among those who received Chopin at the Edinburgh railway station was Dr. Lyschinski who addressed him in Polish. The composer put up at an hotel (perhaps the London Hotel, in St. Andrew's Square). Next day—Miss Paterson, a neighbour, having placed her carriage at Chopin's disposal—Mrs. Lyschinski took him out for a drive. He soon got tired of the hotel, in fact, felt it quite unbearable, and told the doctor, to whom he had at once taken a fancy, that he could not do without him. Whereupon the latter said: "Well, then you must come to my house; and as it is rather small, you must be satisfied with the nursery." So the children were sent to a friend's house, and the nursery was made into a bedroom for the illustrious guest, an adjoining bedroom being prepared for his servant Daniel, an Irish-Frenchman. Unless the above refers to Chopin's return to Scotland in September, after his visit to Manchester, Mrs. Lyschinski confuses her reminiscences a little, for, as the last-quoted letter proves, he tarried, on his first arrival, only one day in Edinburgh. But the facts, even if not exactly grouped, are, no doubt, otherwise correctly remembered. Chopin rose very late in the day, and in the morning had soup in his room. His hair was curled daily by the servant, and his shirts, boots, and other things were of the neatest—in fact, he was a petit-maitre, more vain in dress than any woman. The maid-servants found themselves strictly excluded from his room, however indispensable their presence might seem to them in the interests of neatness and cleanliness. Chopin was so weak that Dr. Lyschinski had always to carry him upstairs. After dinner he sat before the fire, often shivering with cold. Then all on a sudden he would cross the room, seat himself at the piano, and play himself warm. He could bear neither dictation nor contradiction: if you told him to go to the fire, he would go to the other end of the room where the piano stood. Indeed, he was imperious. He once asked Mrs. Lyschinski to sing. She declined. At this he was astonished and quite angry. "Doctor, would you take it amiss if I were to force your wife to do it?" The idea of a woman refusing him anything seemed to him preposterous. Mrs. Lyschinski says that Chopin was gallant to all ladies alike, but thinks that he had no heart. She used to tease him about women, saying, for instance, that Miss Stirling was a particular friend of his. He replied that he had no particular friends among the ladies, that he gave to all an equal share of his attention. "Not even George Sand then," she asked, "is a particular friend?" "Not even George Sand," was the reply. Had Mrs. Lyschinski known the real state of matters between Chopin and George Sand, she certainly would not have asked that question. He, however, by no means always avoided the mention of his faithless love. Speaking one day of his thinness he remarked that she used to call him mon cher cadavre. Miss Stirling was much about Chopin. I may mention by the way that Mrs. Lyschinski told me that Miss Stirling was much older than Chopin, and her love for him, although passionate, purely Platonic. Princess Czartoryska arrived some time after Chopin, and accompanied him, my informant says, wherever he went. But, as we see from one of his letters, her stay in Scotland was short. The composer was always on the move. Indeed, Dr. Lyschinski's was hardly more than a pied-a-terre for him: he never stayed long, and generally came unexpectedly. A number of places where Chopin was a guest are mentioned in his letters. Mrs. Lyschinski thinks that he also visited the Duke of Hamilton.

At the end of August and at the end of September and beginning of October, this idling was interrupted by serious work, and a kind of work which, at no time to his liking, was particularly irksome in the then state of his health.

The Manchester Guardian of August 19, 1848, contained the following advertisement:—

Concert Hall.—The Directors beg to announce to the
Subscribers that a Dress Concert has been fixed for Monday,
the 28th of August next, for which the following performers
have already been engaged: Signora Alboni, Signora Corbari,
Signer Salvi, and Mons. Chopin.

From an account of the concert in the same paper (August 30), the writer of which declares the concert to have been the most brilliant of the season, we learn that the orchestra, led by Mr. Seymour, played three overtures—Weber's Ruler of the Spirits, Beethoven's Prometheus, and Rossini's Barbiere di Siviglia; and that Chopin performed an Andante and Scherzo, and a Nocturne, Etudes, and the Berceuse of his own composition. With regard to Chopin we read in this critique:—

With the more instrumental portion of the audience, Mons.
Chopin was perhaps an equal feature of interest with Alboni,
as he was preceded by a high musical reputation. Chopin
appears to be about thirty years of age. [FOOTNOTE: Chopin,
says Mr. Hipkins, had a young look, although much wasted.] He
is very spare in frame, and there is an almost painful air of
feebleness in his appearance and gait. This vanishes when he
seats himself at the instrument, in which he seems for the
time perfectly absorbed. Chopin's music and style of
performance partake of the same leading characteristics—
refinement rather than vigour—subtle elaboration rather than
simple comprehensiveness in composition—an elegant rapid
touch, rather than a firm, nervous grasp of the instrument.
Both his compositions and playing appear to be the perfection
of chamber music—fit to be associated with the most refined
instrumental quartet and quartet playing—but wanting breadth
and obviousness of design, and executive power, to be
effective in a large hall. These are our impressions from
hearing Mons. Chopin for the first time on Monday evening. He
was warmly applauded by many of the most accomplished amateurs
in the town, and he received an encore in his last piece, a
compliment thus accorded to each of the four London artists
who appeared at the concert.

From the criticism of the Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser (August 30, 1848), I cull the following remarks:—

Mr. Osborne, in a paper on Chopin read before the London Musical Association, says:—

On a tour which I made with Alboni, I met Chopin at
Manchester, where he was announced to play at a grand concert
without orchestra. He begged I should not be present. "You, my
dear Osborne," said he, "who have heard me so often in Paris,
remain with those impressions. My playing will be lost in such
a large room, and my compositions will be ineffective. Your
presence at the concert will be painful both to you and me."

Mr. Osborne told his audience further that notwithstanding this appeal he was present in a remote corner of the room. I may add that although he could absent himself from the hall for the time Chopin was playing, he could not absent himself from the concert, for, as the papers tell us, he acted as accompanist. The impression which Chopin's performance on this occasion left upon his friend's mind is described in the following few sad words: "His playing was too delicate to create enthusiasm, and I felt truly sorry for him."

Soon after the concert Chopin returned to Scotland. How many days (between August 23 and September 7?) he remained in Manchester, I do not know, but it is well known that while staying there he was the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Salis Schwabe. To Mrs. Salis Schwabe, a lady noted for her benevolence, Thomas Erskine addressed the letter concerning Miss Jane Stirling a part of which I quoted on one of the foregoing pages of this chapter. The reader remembers, of course, Chopin's prospective allusions to the Manchester concert in his letters to Franchomme (August 6, 1848) and Grzymala (July 18, 1848).

About a month after the concert at which he played in Manchester, Chopin gave one of his own in Glasgow. Here is what may be read in the Courier of September 28 and previous days:—

Monsieur Chopin has the honour to announce that his Matinee
musicals will take place on Wednesday, the 27th September, in
the Merchant Hall, Glasgow. To commence at half-past two
o'clock. Tickets, limited in number, half-a-guinea each, and
full particulars to be had from Mr. Muir Wood, 42, Buchanan
Street.

The net profits of this concert are said to have been 60 pounds. Mr. Muir Wood relates:—

I was then a comparative stranger in Glasgow, but I was told
that so many private carriages had never been seen at any
concert in the town. In fact, it was the county people who
turned out, with a few of the elite of Glasgow society. Being
a morning concert, the citizens were busy otherwise, and half-
a-guinea was considered too high a sum for their wives and
daughters.

No doubt Chopin's playing and compositions must have been to the good Glasgow citizens of that day what caviare is to the general. In fact, Scotland, as regards music, had at that period not yet emerged from its state of primitive savagery. But if we may believe the learned critic in the Glasgow Courier, Chopin's matinee was numerously attended, and the audience, which consisted of "the beauty and fashion, indeed of the very elite of the West-end," thoroughly enjoyed the playing of the concert-giver and the singing of Madame Adelasio de Margueritte who assisted him. I think the reader will be interested by the following specimen of criticism for more than one reason:—

The performance was certainly of the highest order in point of
musical attainment and artistic skill, and was completely
successful in interesting and delighting everyone present for
an hour and a half. Visited as we now are by the highest
musical talent, by this great player and the other eminent
composer, it must be difficult for each successive candidate
for our patronage and applause to produce in sufficient
quantity that essential element to success—novelty; but M.
Chopin has proved satisfactorily that it is not easy to
estimate the capabilities of the instrument he handles with so
much grace and ingenuity, or limit the skill and power whose
magic touch makes it pour forth its sublime strains to
electrify and delight anew the astonished listener. M.
Chopin's treatment of the pianoforte is peculiar to himself,
and his style blends in beautiful harmony and perfection the
elegant, the picturesque, and the humorous. We cannot at
present descend to practical illustrations in proof of these
observations, but feel persuaded we only express the feelings
of all who attended yesterday when we say that the pianist
produces, without extraordinary effort, not only pleasing, but
new musical delights. Madame Adelasio has a beautiful voice,
which she manages with great ease and occasional brilliancy.
She sang several airs with much taste and great acceptance. We
may mention that all the pieces were rapturously applauded,
and the audience separated with expressions of the highest
gratification.

Clearly this critic was not without judgment, although his literary taste and skill leave much to be desired. That there were real Chopin enthusiasts in Glasgow is proved by an effusion, full of praise and admiration, which the editor received from a correspondent and inserted on September 30, two days after the above criticism. But, without indulging our curiosity further, we will now take our leave of Glasgow and Glasgow critics.

On October 4, Chopin gave an evening concert in Edinburgh. Here is the programme:—

HOPETOUN ROOMS, QUEEN STREET.
MONSIEUR CHOPIN'S SOIREE MUSICALE.

Programme.

1. Andante et Impromptu.
2. Etudes.
3. Nocturne et Berceuse.
4. Grande Valse Brillante.
5. Andante precede d'un Largo.
6. Preludes, Ballade, Mazurkas et Valses.

To commence at half-past eight o'clock. Tickets,
limited to number, half-a-guinea each. To be had, &c.

Mrs. Lyschinski told me that this concert was chiefly attended by the nobility. Half-a-guinea had never been charged for admission to a concert (which is probably overstating the case), and Chopin was little known. Miss Stirling, who was afraid the hall might not be filled, bought fifty pounds' worth of tickets. The piano on which Chopin played (one sent by Broadwood, and used in Glasgow as well as in Edinburgh) was afterwards sold for 30 pounds above the price. Thus, at any rate, runs the legend.

In the Edinburgh Courant, which contained on September 30 and on other days an advertisement similar to the Glasgow one (with the addition of a programme, consisting, however, only of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 6th items of the one above given), there appeared on October 7, 1848, a notice of the concert, a part of which may find a place here:—

This talented pianist gratified his admirers by a performance
on Wednesday evening in the Hopetoun Rooms, where a select and
highly fashionable audience assembled to welcome him on his
first appearance in Edinburgh...Chopin's compositions have
been too long before the musical portion of Europe, and have
been too highly appreciated to require any comment, further
than that they are among the best specimens of classical
excellence in pianoforte music. Of his execution we need say
nothing further than that it is the most finished we have ever
heard. He has neither the ponderosity nor the digital power of
a Mendelssohn, a Thalberg, or Liszt; consequently his
execution would appear less effective in a large room; but as
a chamber pianist he stands unrivalled. Notwithstanding the
amount of musical entertainment already afforded the Edinburgh
public this season, the rooms were filled with an audience
who, by their judicious and well-timed applause, testified
their appreciation of the high talent of Monsieur Chopin.

An Edinburgh correspondent of the Musical World, who signs himself "M.," confirms (October 14, 1848) the statements of the critic of the Courant. From this communication we learn that one of the etudes played was in F minor (probably No. 2 of Op. 25, although there are two others in the same key—No. 9 of Op. 10 and No. 1 of Trois Etudes without opus number). The problematical Andante precede d'un Largo was, no doubt, a juxtaposition of two of his shorter compositions, this title being chosen to vary the programme. From Mr. Hipkins I learned that at this Chopin played frequently the slow movement from his Op. 22, Grande Polonaise preceded d'un Andante Spianato.

And now we will let Chopin again speak for himself.

Chopin to Grzymala; Keir, Perthshire, Sunday, October 1, 1848:—

No post, no railway, also no carriage (not even for taking the
air), no boat, not a dog to be seen—all desolate, desolate!
My dearest friend,—Just at the moment when I had already
begun to write to you on another sheet, your and my sister's
letters were brought to me. Heaven be thanked that cholera has
hitherto spared them. But why do you not write a word about
yourself? and yet to you corresponding is much easier than to
me; for I have been writing to you daily for a whole week
already—namely, since my return from northern Scotland
(Strachur [FOOTNOTE: A small town, eight miles south of
Inveraray, in Argyleshire.])—without getting done. I know,
indeed, that you have an invalid in Versailles; for Rozaria
[FOOTNOTE: Mdlle. de Rozieres.] wrote to me that you had paid
her a visit, and then in great haste had gone to an invalid in
Versailles. I hope it is not your grandfather or grandchild,
or one of your dear neighbours, the Rochanskis. Here one hears
as yet nothing of cholera, but in London it appears already
here and there.

With your letter, which I received at Johnstone Castle, and in
which you informed me that you had been with Soli [FOOTNOTE: I
suppose Solange, Madame Clesinger, George Sand's daughter.] at
the Gymnase Theatre, there came at the same time one from
Edinburgh, from Prince Alexander Czartoryski, with the news
that he and his wife had arrived, and that he would be very
glad to see me. Although tired, I at once took the train and
found them still in Edinburgh. Princess Marcelline was as kind
as she always is to me. The intercourse with them reanimated
me, and gave me strength to play in Glasgow, where the whole
haute volee had gathered for my concert. The weather was
magnificent, and the princely family had even come from
Edinburgh with little Marcel, who is growing nicely, and sings
already my compositions, yes, and even corrects when he hears
someone making mistakes. It was on Wednesday afternoon, at 3
o'clock, and the princely couple did me the kindness to accept
along with me an invitation to a dinner at Johnstone Castle
(by the way, twelve English miles from Glasgow) after the
concert; in this way, then, I passed the whole day with them.
Lord and Lady Murray and the old Lord Torphichen (who had come
a distance of a hundred miles) drove also thither with us, and
the next day all were quite charmed with the amiability of
Princess Marcelline. The princely pair returned to Glasgow,
whence, after a visit to Loch Tamen, [FOOTNOTE: There is no
such loch. Could it possibly be Loch Lomond? Loch Leven seems
to me less likely.] they wished to go back at once to London,
and thence to the Continent. The Prince spoke of you with
sincere kindness. I can very well imagine what your noble soul
must suffer when you see what is now going on in Paris. You
cannot think how I revived, how lively I became that day in
the society of such dear countrymen; but to-day I am again
very depressed. O, this mist! Although, from the window at
which I write, I have before me the most beautiful view of
Stirling Castle—it is the same, as you will remember, which
delighted Robert Bruce—and mountains, lochs, a charming park,
in one word, the view most celebrated for its beauty in
Scotland; I see nothing, except now and then, when the mist
gives way to the sun. The owner of this mansion, whose name is
Stirling, is the uncle of our Scotch ladies, and the head of
the family. I made his acquaintance in London; he is a rich
bachelor, and has a very beautiful picture-gallery, which is
especially distinguished by works of Murillo and other Spanish
masters. He has lately even published a very interesting book
on the Spanish school; he has travelled much (visited also the
East), and is a very intelligent man. All Englishmen of note
who come to Scotland go to him; he has always an open house,
so that there are daily on an average about thirty people at
dinner with him. In this way one has opportunities of seeing
the most different English beauties; lately there was, for
instance, for some days a Mrs. Boston here, but she is already
gone. As to dukes, earls, and lords, one now sees here more of
them than ever, because the Queen has sojourned in Scotland.
Yesterday she passed close by us by rail, as she had to be at
a certain time in London, and there was such a fog on the sea
that she preferred to return from Aberdeen to London by land,
and not (as she had come) by boat—to the great regret of the
navy, which had prepared various festivities for her. It is
said that her consort, Prince Albert, was very much pleased at
this, as he becomes always sea-sick on board, while the Queen,
like a true ruler of the sea, is not inconvenienced by a
voyage. I shall soon have forgotten Polish, speak French like
an Englishman, and English like a Scotchman—in short, like
Jawurek, jumble together five languages. If I do not write to
you a Jeremiad, it is not because you cannot comfort me, but
because you are the only one who knows everything; and if I
once begin to complain, there will be no end to it, and it
will always be in the same key. But it is incorrect when I
say: "always in the same key," for things are getting worse
with me every day. I feel weaker; I cannot compose, not for
want of inclination, but for physical reasons, and because I
am every week in a different place. But what shall I do? At
least, I shall save something for the winter. Invitations I
have in plenty, and cannot even go where I should like, for
instance, to the Duchess of Argyll and Lady Belhaven, as the
season is already too far advanced and too dangerous for my
enfeebled health. I am all the morning unable to do anything,
and when I have dressed myself I feel again so fatigued that I
must rest. After dinner I must sit two hours with the
gentlemen, hear what they say, and see how much they drink.
Meanwhile I feel bored to death. I think of something totally
different, and then go to the drawing-room, where I require
all my strength to revive, for all are anxious to hear me.
Afterwards my good Daniel carries me upstairs to my bedroom,
undresses me, puts me to bed, leaves the candle burning, and
then I am again at liberty to sigh and to dream until morning,
to pass the next day just like the preceding one. When I have
settled down in some measure, I must continue my travels, for
my Scotch ladies do not allow me—to be sure with the best
intentions in the world—any rest. They fetch me to introduce
me to all their relations; they will at last kill me with
their kindness, and I must bear it all out of pure amiability.—

Your

FREDERICK.

Chopin to Gutmann; Calder House, October 16, 1848 (twelve miles from Edinburgh):—

Very dear friend,—What are you doing? How are your people,
your country, your art? you are unjustly severe upon me, for
you know my infirmity in the matter of letter-writing. I have
thought of you much, and on reading the other day that there
was a disturbance at Heidelberg, I tried some thirty rough
draughts [brouillons] in order to send you a line, the end of
them all being to be thrown into the fire. This page will
perhaps reach you and find you happy with your good mother.
Since I had news from you, I have been in Scotland, in this
beautiful country of Walter Scott, with so many memories of
Mary Stuart, the two Charleses, &c. I drag myself from one
lord to another, from one duke to another. I find everywhere,
besides extreme kindness and hospitality without limit,
excellent pianos, beautiful pictures, choice libraries; there
are also hunts, horses, dogs, interminable dinners, and
cellars of which I avail myself less. It is impossible to form
an idea of all the elaborate comfort which reigns in the
English mansions. The Queen having passed this year some weeks
in Scotland, all England followed her, partly out of courtesy,
partly because of the impossibility of going to the disturbed
Continent. Everything here has become doubly splendid, except
the sun, which has done nothing more than usual; moreover, the
winter advances, and I do not know yet what will become of me.
I am writing to you from Lord Torphichen's. In this mansion,
above my apartment, John Knox, the Scotch reformer, dispensed
for the first time the Sacrament. Everything here furnishes
matter for the imagination—a park with hundred-year-old
trees, precipices, walls of the castle in ruins, endless
passages with numberless old ancestors—there is even a
certain Red-cowl which walks there at midnight. I walk there
my incertitude. [II y a meme un certain bonnet rouge, qui s'y
promene a minuit. J'y promene mon incertitude.]

Cholera is coming; there is fog and spleen in London, and no
president in Paris. It does not matter where I go to cough and
suffocate, I shall always love you. Present my respects to
your mother, and all my wishes for the happiness of you all.
Write me a line to the address: Dr. Lishinsky, [FOOTNOTE: The
letter I shall next place before the reader is addressed by
Chopin to "Dr. Lishinski." In an Edinburgh medical directory
the name appeared as Lyszynski.] 10, Warriston Crescent,
Edinburgh, Scotland.—Yours, with all my heart,
CHOPIN.

P.S.—I have played in Edinburgh; the nobility of the
neighbourhood came to hear me; people say the thing went off
well—a little success and money. There were this year in
Scotland Lind, Grisi, Alboni, Mario, Salvi—everybody.

From Chopin's letters may be gathered that he arrived once more in London at the end of October or beginning of November.

Chopin to Dr. Lyschinski; London, November 3, 1848:—

I received yesterday your kind words with the letter from
Heidelberg. I am as perplexed here as when I was with you, and
have the same love in my heart for you as when I was with you.
My respects to your wife and your neighbours. May God bless
you!

I embrace you cordially. I have seen the Princess
[Czartoryska]; they were inquiring about you most kindly.

My present abode is 4, St. James's Place. If anything should
come for me, please send it to that address.

3rd November, 1848.

Pray send the enclosed note to Miss Stirling, who, no doubt,
is still at Barnton.

[FOOTNOTE: In this case, as when writing to Woyciechowski,
Matuszynski, Fontana, Franchomme and Gutmann, Chopin uses in
addressing his correspondent, the pronoun of the second person
singular. Here I may also mention the curious monogram on his
seal: three C's in the form of horns (with mouthpieces and
bells) intertwined.]

The following letter shows in what state of mind and body Chopin was at the time.

Chopin to Grzymala; London, October [should be November] 17-18, 1848:—

My dearest friend,—For the last eighteen days, that is, since
my arrival in London, I have been ill, and had such a severe
cold in my head (with headache, difficult breathing, and all
my bad symptoms) that I did not get out of doors at all. The
physician visits me daily (a homoeopathist of the name of
Mallan, the same whom my Scotch ladies have and who has here a
great reputation, and is married to a niece of Lady
Gainsborough). He has succeeded in restoring me so far that
yesterday I was able to take part in the Polish Concert and
Ball; I went, however, at once home, after I had gone through
my task. The whole night I could not sleep, as I suffered,
besides cough and asthma, from very violent headache. As yet
the mist has not been very bad, so that, in order to breathe a
little fresh air, I can open the windows of my apartments
notwithstanding the keen cold. I live at No. 4, St. James's
Street, see almost every day the excellent Szulczewski,
Broadwood, Mrs. Erskine, who followed me hither with Mr.
Stirling, and especially Prince Alexander [Czartoryski] and
his wife.

[FOOTNOTE: Charles Francis Szulczewski, son of Charles
Szulczewski, Receiver General for the District of Orlow, born
on January 18, 1814, was educated at the Military School at
Kalisz, served during the War of 1831 in the Corps of
Artillery under General Bem, obtained the Cross of Honour
(virtuti militari) for distinguishing himself at Ostrolenka,
passed the first years of his refugee life in France, and in
1842 took up his residence in London, where, in 1845, he
became Secretary of the Literary Association of the Friends of
Poland. He was promoted for his services to the rank of Major
in the Polish Legion, which was formed in Turkey under the
command of Ladislas Zamoyski, and after the treaty of Paris
(1856) the English Government appointed him to a post in the
War Office. Major Szulczewski, who died on October 18, 1884,
was an ardent patriot, highly esteemed not only by his
countrymen, but also by all others who came in contact with
him, numbering among his friends the late Lord Dudley Stuart
and the late Earl of Harrowby.]

Address your letters, please, to Szulczewski. I cannot yet
come to Paris, but I am always considering what is to be done
to return there. Here in these apartments, which for any
healthy man would be good, I cannot remain, although they are
beautifully situated and not dear (four and a half guineas a
week, inclusive of bed, coals, &c.); they are near Lord
Stuart's, [FOOTNOTE: Lord Dudley Cuotts Stuart, a staunch and
generous friend of the Poles.] who has just left me. This
worthy gentleman came to inquire how I felt after last night's
concert. Probably I shall take up my quarters with him,
because he has much larger rooms, in which I can breathe more
freely. En tout cas—inquire, please, whether there are not
somewhere on the Boulevard, in the neighbourhood of the Rue de
la Paix or Rue Royale, apartments to be had on the first etage
with windows towards the south; or, for aught I care, in the
Rue des Mathurin, but not in the Rue Godot or other gloomy,
narrow streets; at any rate, there must be included a room for
the servant. Perhaps Franck's old quarters, which were above
mine, at the excellent Madame Etienne's, in the Square No. 9
(Cite d'Orleans), are unoccupied; for I know from experience
that I cannot keep on my old ones during the winter. If there
were only on the same story a room for the servant, I should
go again and live with Madame Etienne, but I should not like
to let my Daniel go away, as, should I at any time wish or be
able to return to England, he will be acquainted with
everything.

Why I bother you with all this I don't know myself; but I must
think of myself, and, therefore, I beg of you, assist me in
this. I have never cursed anyone, but now I am so weary of
life that I am near cursing Lucrezia! [FOOTNOTE: George Sand.
This allusion after what has been said in a previous chapter
about her novel Lucrezia Floriani needs no further
explanation.] But she suffers too, and suffers more because
she grows daily older in wickedness. What a pity about Soli!
[FOOTNOTE: I suppose Solange, Madame Clesinger, George Sand's
daughter.] Alas! everything is going wrong in this world.
Think only that Arago with the eagle on his breast now
represents France!!! Louis Blanc attracts here nobody's
attention. The deputation of the national guard drove
Caussidier out of the Hotel de la Sablonniere (Leicester
Square) from the table d'hote with the exclamation: "Vous
n'etes pas francais!"

Should you find apartments, let me know at once; but do not
give up the old ones till then.—Your

FREDERICK.

The Polish Ball and Concert alluded to in the above letter deserves our attention, for on that occasion Chopin was heard for the last time in public, indeed, his performance there may be truly called the swan's song.

The following is an advertisement which appeared in the DAILY NEWS of November 1, 1848:—

Grand Polish Ball and Concert at Guildhall, under Royal and
distinguished patronage, and on a scale of more than usual
magnificence, will take place on Thursday, the 16th of
November, by permission of the Lord Mayor and Corporation of
the City of London; particulars of which will be shortly
announced to the public.

JAMES R. CARR, HONORARY SECRETARY.

The information given in this advertisement is supplemented in one of November 15:—

The magnificent decorations used on the Lord Mayor's day are,
by permission, preserved. The concert will comprise the most
eminent vocalists. Tickets (refreshments included), for a lady
and gentleman, 21/-; for a gentleman, 15/-; for a lady, 10/6;
to be had of, &c.

On the 17th of November the TIMES had, of course, an account of the festivity of the preceding night:—

The patrons and patronesses of this annual or rather perennial
demonstration in favour of foreign claims on domestic charity
assembled last night at Guildhall much in the same way as they
assembled last year and on previous occasions, though
certainly not in such numbers, nor in such quality as some
years ago. The great hall was illuminated and decorated as at
the Lord Mayor's banquet. The appearance was brilliant without
being particularly lively.

Then the dancing, Mr. Adams' excellent band, the refreshment rooms, a few noble Lords, the Lord Mayor, and some of the civic authorities (who "diversified the plain misters and mistresses who formed the majority"), the gay costumes of some Highlanders and Spaniards, and Lord Dudley (the great lion of the evening)—all these are mentioned, but there is not a word about Chopin. Of the concert we read only that it "was much the same as on former anniversaries, and at its conclusion many of the company departed." We learn, moreover, that the net profit was estimated at less than on former occasions.

The concert for which Chopin, prompted by his patriotism and persuaded by his friends, lent his assistance, was evidently a subordinate part of the proceedings in which few took any interest. The newspapers either do not notice it at all or but very briefly; in any case the great pianist-composer is ignored. Consequently, very little information is now to be obtained about this matter. Mr. Lindsay Sloper remembered that Chopin played among other things the "Etudes" in A flat and F minor (Op. 25, Nos. 1 & 2). But the best account we have of the concert are some remarks of one present at it which Mr. Hueffer quotes in his essay on Chopin in "Musical Studies":—

The people, hot from dancing, who went into the room where he
played, were but little in the humour to pay attention, and
anxious to return to their amusement. He was in the last stage
of exhaustion, and the affair resulted in disappointment. His
playing at such a place was a well-intentioned mistake.

What a sad conclusion to a noble artistic career!

Although Chopin was longing for Paris in November, he was still in London in the following January.

Chopin to Grzymaia; London, Tuesday, January, 1849:—

My dearest friend,—To-day I am again lying almost the whole
day, but Thursday I shall leave the to me unbearable London.
The night from Thursday to Friday I shall remain at Boulogne,
and, I hope, go to bed on Friday night in the Place d'Orleans.
To other ailments is now added neuralgia. Please see that the
sheets and pillows are quite dry and cause fir-nuts to be
bought; Madame Etienne is not to spare anything, so that I may
warm myself when I arrive. I have written to Drozewski that he
is to provide carpets and curtains. I shall pay the paper-
hanger Perrichon at once after my arrival. Tell Pleyel to send
me a piano on Thursday; let it be closed and a nosegay of
violets be bought, so that there may be a nice fragrance in
the salon. I should like to find a little poesy in my rooms
and in my bedroom, where I in all probability shall lie down
for a long time.

Friday evening, then, I expect to be in Paris; a day longer
here, and I shall go mad or die! My Scotch ladies are good,
but so tedious that—God have mercy on us! They have so
attached themselves to me that I cannot easily get rid of
them; only Princess Marcelline [Czartoryska] and her family,
and the excellent Szulczewski keep me alive. Have fires
lighted in all rooms and the dust removed—perhaps I may yet
recover.—Yours ever,

FREDERICK.

Mr. Niedzwiecki told me that he travelled with Chopin, who was accompanied by his servant, from London to Paris.

[FOOTNOTE: Leonard Niedzwiecki, born in the Kingdom of Poland in 1807, joined the National Army in 1830, distinguished himself on several battlefields, came in 1832 as a refugee to England, made there a livelihood by literary work and acted as honorary librarian of the Literary Association of the friends of Poland, left about 1845 London for Paris and became Private Secretary, first to General Count Ladislas Zamoyski, and after the Count's death to the widowed Countess. M. Niedzwiecki, who is also librarian of the Polish Library at Paris, now devotes all his time to historical and philological research.]

The three had a compartment to themselves. During the journey the invalid suffered greatly from frequent attacks of breathlessness. Chopin was delighted when he saw Boulogne. How hateful England and the English were to him is shown by the following anecdote. When they had left Boulogne and Chopin had been for some time looking at the landscape through which they were passing, he said to Mr. Niedzwiecki: "Do you see the cattle in this meadow? Ca a plus d'intelligence que les Anglais." Let us not be wroth at poor Chopin: he was then irritated by his troubles, and always anything but a cosmopolitan.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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