Frederick Chopin
Semper® Scientific Publishers
University of Warsaw
The Frederick Chopin University of Music
Anna Brożek & Jacek Jadacki
Frederick
Chopin
soCiAl BACkground — personAlity — worldview — ArtistiC prinCiples
Warsaw 2011
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© 2011 Anna Brożek, Jacek Jadacki and Semper® Scientific Publishers
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Table of contents
Katarzyna Chałasińska–Macukow: Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .13
Andrzej Jasiński: Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14
Stanisław Moryto: Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .17
PArT I. SOCIAl eNvIrONMeNT
Chapter I. Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .23
1. Father . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .23
2. Mother . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .26
3. Siblings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27
3.1. ludwika . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27
3.2. Izabela. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .29
3.3. emilia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .30
Chapter II. City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .31
1. Teachers and scholars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .32
1.1. Musicians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .32
1.1.1. Wojciech Żywny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .32
1.1.2. Józef elsner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .33
1.1.3. Wenzel Wilhelm Würfel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .33
1.2. Philologists, historians, and theoreticians of literature and art . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34
1.2.1. Chrystian Piotr Aigner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34
1.2.2. Samuel Bogumił linde . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34
1.2.3. Feliks Bentkowski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34
1.2.4. Kazimierz Brodziński. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .35
1.2.5. Józef Jakub Tatarkiewicz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .36
1.3. Biologists, economists, physicians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .36
1.3.1. Feliks Paweł Jarocki . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .36
1.3.2. Fryderyk Skarbek . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .36
1.3.3. Ferdynand Dworzaczek . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37
1.4. Philosophers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37
1.4.1. Józef Kalasanty Szaniawski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37
1.4.2. Adam Ignacy Zubelewicz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .38
1.4.3. Krystyn lach–Szyrma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .38
2. Activists and writers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .39
2.1. Stanisław Kostka Potocki . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .39
2.2. Katarzyna and Józef Sowińskis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40
2.3. Klementyna Hoffmanowa née Tańska . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40
3. Peers and friends . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40
Chapter III. Homeland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43
1. Country . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43
1.1. Mazovia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43
1.2. The land of Dobrzyń . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43
1.3. The land of Chełmno and Pomerania. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .44
1.4. little Poland and Great Poland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .44
1.5. Silesia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .44
2. Heritage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
2.1. Musical tradition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
2.1.1. Antoni radziwiłł. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
2.1.2. Maria Szymanowska . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
2.2. literary tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
2.2.1. Adam Naruszewicz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45
2.2.2. Franciszek Karpiński . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46
2.2.3. Antoni Malczewski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46
2.3. Philosophical tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46
2.3.1. Feliks Jaroński . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46
2.3.2. Józef Bychowiec . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46
2.3.3. Bronisław Ferdynand Trentowski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47
3. Abroad . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47
3.1. Philosophizing essayists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47
3.1.1. Hugues Félicité robert de lamennais . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47
3.1.2. ralph Waldo emerson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .48
3.2. Philosophizing poets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .49
3.2.1. Adam Mickiewicz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .49
3.2.2. Cyprian Kamil Norwid . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .52
PArT II. PerSONAlITy
Chapter Iv. Person . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .55
1. Appearance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .55
2. Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .55
3. Manner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .57
Chapter v. Mentality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59
1. Abilities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59
1.1. linguistic talent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59
1.1.1. Children’s experiences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59
1.1.2. language sensitivity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59
1.1.3. Foreign languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .61
1.2. Acting talent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .62
1.3. Painting talent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .63
2. Disposition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .63
2.1. Temperament . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .65
2.1.1. Sobriety or dreamness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .65
2.1.2. Cheerfulness or grief . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .65
2.1.3. Habits or news . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .68
2.2. emotional sphere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .68
2.2.1. Indifference or sensitivity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .68
2.2.2. reserve or offence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .69
2.2.3. Stiffness or tenderness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .69
2.2.4. Coldness or amorousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .69
2.3. volitional sphere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70
2.3.1. Self–control or vehemence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70
2.3.2. Patience or fussiness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70
2.3.3. excellence or mediocrity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70
2.3.4. Determination or instability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70
2.4. Style. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .71
2.4.1. Arrogance or modesty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .71
2.4.2. Openness or secretiveness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .72
2.4.3. Generosity or unforgiveness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .73
3. likes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .73
3.1. Artistic predilections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .73
3.2. vital predilections. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .75
3.2.1. Caring tendencies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .75
3.2.2. «Home» likes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .75
3.2.3. «Farm» likes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .76
Chapter vI. Attitude . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .78
1. Kindness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .78
2. Friendship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .78
3. love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .80
3.1. «Pure» love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .80
3.2. Familial love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .81
3.3. Passionate love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .81
PArT III. WOrlDvIeW
Chapter vII. Fortune . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .87
1. life. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .87
1.1. Uncertainty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .87
1.2. loss . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .87
1.3. Hope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .87
2. Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .88
3. Death. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .89
3.1. “Bickering with God” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .89
3.2. Fear of death . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .92
3.3. “Penultimate days” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .93
Chapter vIII. Man . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95
1. Individual . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95
1.1. respect and trustworthiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95
1.2. Memory and conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95
1.3. Woman and wife . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .96
2. Society. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .96
3. Nation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .99
3.1. National community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .99
3.2. love for the homeland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .102
3.3. Attitude toward foreigners. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .102
3.3.1. russians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .105
3.3.1. Czechs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .108
Chapter Ix. values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .109
1. Good . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .109
2. virtue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .109
3. Happiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .110
PArT Iv. ArTISTIC PrINCIPleS
Chapter x. Creative activity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .113
1. Considerations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .113
2. Creator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .114
3. Perception . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .117
Chapter xI. Performance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .120
1. Self–esteem and testimonies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .120
1.1. In his own eyes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .120
1.2. In the eyes of others . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .121
2. Features and peculiarities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .123
2.1. «Modesty» . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .123
2.2. «Gentleness» and «timbreness» . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .124
2.3. «Spirituality» . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .125
3. rules and guidelines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .126
3.1. The principle of methodical training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .126
3.2. The principle of didactic optimism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .127
3.3. The principle of technical adequacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .128
3.4. The principle of superiority of anatomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .128
3.5. The principle of optimal motor skills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .129
3.6. The principle of textual precision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .129
3.7. The principle of stimulating intuition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .130
3.8. The principle of fortitude . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .130
Chapter xII. Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .131
1. Standards . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .131
1.1. The process of composing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .131
1.2. Composer’s artistry. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .131
1.3. Ideals and anti–ideals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .132
1.3.1. Johann Sebastian Bach and Georg Friedrich Händel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .132
1.3.2. Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and ludwig van Beethoven . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .133
1.3.3. luigi Cherubini, Giacomo Meyerbeer and Franz Schubert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .134
1.3.4. Felix Mendelssohn–Bartholdy and robert Schumann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .134
1.4. Prototypes of genres . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .135
1.5. Piano «minimalism» . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .135
2. Beauty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .136
3. Content . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .137
3.1. The language of music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .137
3.2. The semiotic functions of symbols . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .138
3.2.1. expression in music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .138
3.2.2. evocation in music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .140
3.3. Programmes and associations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .141
3.4. The function of catharsis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .143
3.5. The Polishness of Chopin’s music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .143
3.5.1. “A Pole in his heart” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .143
3.5.2. The noble and folk trends . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .144
3.5.3. The polonaises and the mazurkas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .145
3.5.4. Songs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .147
3.6. “The spirit of the nation” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .148
Afterword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .150
list of illustrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .151
list of names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .163
The present volume is a supplement to our book entitled Fryderyk Chopin. Środowisko społeczne — osobowość — światopogląd
— założenia twórcze. It contains an abridged english translation and a full French translation of the book as well as an
Introduction by Stanisław Moryto, The rector of The Frederick Chopin University of Music in Warsaw (in english and
French).
The illustrations and “references” have been omitted in this volume; however, both language versions have their own
“list of names”, referring only to a given version.
In the english version, all mottoes and most references to Polish literature, including all quotations from poems, have
been omitted. In the case of english texts, we quoted them in their original versions.
There are no omissions in the French version. The French quotations are generally based on the original, which we
usually quoted without any changes, even if, as it was sometimes the case with Chopin’s correspondence in French, the
texts contained some mistakes.
Anna Brożek and Jacek Jadacki
Warsaw, 17 October 2010.
Katarzyna Chałasińska–Macukow
rector of the University of Warsaw
ladies and Gentlemen,
Żelazowa Wola is the place which is
the most closely linked with Frederick
Chopin in common understanding. The
bi–centenary of his birth is a great opportunity to remind others that although the great composer
was born in a small village in the area of Sochaczew, he grew
up and developed his incredible talent in Warsaw. While
living here for two decades, he observed the flourishing
city and the birth of the royal University of Warsaw, where
he later studied.
For many years the University campus remained Chopin’s
home. His family lived in the right wing of the Kazimie–
rzowski Palace for ten years. In the fall of 1826, Frederick
started his study at the Central School of Music, led by rector
Józef elsner, which was a part of the University as one of the
branches of the Fine Arts Department. When the composer
graduated three years later, elsner called him “a musical
genius” in his report. In 1830, Frederick left the University
and left Warsaw never to return. yet, the memories of the
city and the University were always in his heart.
I am very happy about this publication, which highlights
the connection of the piano genius with the University of
Warsaw. The book, Frederick Chopin: social environment
— personality — convictions — artistic principles reveals
the great influence on the composer’s personality and his
development as an artist of the friends and teachers he met in
the Warsaw period, as well as the extraordinary atmosphere
of those times.
13
Andrzej Jasiński
A member of the jury of The International Frederick Chopin Piano Competition (since 1975)
The chairman of the jury of The International Frederick Chopin Piano Competition (since 2000)
Pianists — performers of Chopin’s works all over the world
— attempt to make a timeless bond with the composer with
the help of their imagination, artistic sensitivity, knowledge
and intuition, in order to best understand his message — as
a musician and a person. Chopin’s music reveals plenty in
these two aspects, but what he himself and his contemporaries say about him is priceless. However, one ought to be
aware of the fact that notation does not retain what is most
important: the spiritual message, as the content of musical
pieces is not a full reflection of the will of the composer. In
consequence, many written sources concerning Chopin,
which were luckily preserved, may contain various nuances
of meaning, depending on their reading and understanding.
Artistic truth — the content of musical pieces — is hidden
under the external, rich, sound layer of a performed piece.
Spoken, noted and read words are symbols which conceal the
depth of human emotions. A performer of Chopin’s pieces
needs knowledge or commentary; a writer describing Chopin
needs to comprehend the language of sounds.
luckily, the authors of this book are philosophers, as well
as educated pianists, who are able to merge general musical
knowledge with artistic sensitivity and scientific skills. I
was pleased to discover that we have something in common concerning their teachers of piano, whom I knew and
valued. Namely: professor rolanowska was a student of my
professor, Władysława Markiewiczówna, and professor Pikul
is a graduate promoted by professor Tadeusz Żmudziński,
who was also a pupil of my professor.
14
As a pianist and a pedagogue, I support with strong conviction the authors’ words that “in order to fully appreciate
Chopin’s music one must understand his psyche first”.
Their book is like an encyclopaedia, where you can find all
that helps us understand Chopin: the pianist, the composer,
the romantic, the Pole — a man, who experienced joy and
sadness, hope and disappointment, who loved and suffered,
and that with dignity — conscious of his mission — he put
his trust in fate.
you can read this book from beginning to end, feeling
that you are present in the times and places connected to
Chopin’s whole life, you can choose something which particularly interests you from the detailed table of contents,
or you can even open the book on any page and… get some
food for thought.
I congratulate the authors and I wish the readers a satisfying read.
Stanisław moryto
rector of The Frederick Chopin University of Music in Warsaw
200 years have passed since that moment when Frederick Chopin was born
in Żelazowa Wola, in Mazovia, Poland.
Subsequent stages of his short life are
marked by two cities: Warsaw, Poland, and Paris, France,
though it was also filled with residence in various other
places, in his homeland as well as in europe. These stays
were connected with concerts, leisure and treatment. The
places in Poland were especially dear to him and stayed in
his memory until the end; they were immortalised in his
works. Their narration and content written between the
sounds confirm it. The content is so great, so forceful and
so significant that it has continued to move, fascinate and
attract the attention of musicians, music lovers and ordinary
people all over the world. Where does the moving beauty
of this music lie? Where does its greatness, its passion, its
perfection come from? In the Polish understanding it derives
from the national culture; regional culture in the geographical sense and local culture in the global sense. yet this is not
enough to draw the attention of people raised in different
traditions, often separate, non–european; people whose
mentality and tastes are different. Chopin’s music survived
all the meanders and turbulence which 19th century brought
about. It also lasted throughout the tragic 20th century, the
age of tremendous disappointment and dramatic changes,
the age of wars in which tens of millions people lost their
lives, and further tens of millions were exterminated.
It lasted “like a fundament amidst the debris and ashes
of countries and ideologies”. It survived and is increasingly
more popular. The great civilisation progress of the last two
centuries is an indisputable fact. Its basic elements are: technical progress and cultural development. However, technical
progress and cultural development are completely different
concepts. One cannot link them together when talking
about art. They should be treated as separate. Technological
advancements are more easily spread than cultural values,
which in turn are more durable and more deeply set in
people’s awareness. especially art, which is the avant–garde
of culture, clearly displays these tendencies.
“Ars longa, vita brevis”, as the latin proverb goes. Polish
culture, literature, fine arts, music are mostly unknown in
the world. Chopin’s music is an exception. Polish culture
is a local culture. It is a culture of those who live in this
corner of the world, who use the same language, their native
language. A language is a system of sounds. Music is also a
language based on a system of sounds. Polish language, as
well as Polish music, is a language with which we feel, think
and communicate. Continuous rebirth of local, regional and
national cultural values, despite the adversities brought by
life, is a unique phenomenon in contemporary world. It
is an astonishing occurrence in many cultures. Great art,
architecture, literature, music did not emerge from vacuum,
but from specific places in the geographical sense. The genius of artists, their mastery, their artistic level, the unique
values — introduced their masterpieces into the pantheon
of international art. Chopin’s music is an excellent proof of
that. People are interested in art also because they look for
their roots in it. They cannot live without their roots. They
need their own, not alien, roots. In order to understand art
better, and also to interpret it better, as is the case with music,
they become interested in the artist himself. They want to
learn as much as possible about the creator. They ask many
questions. They want to know what kind of a man he was,
what his views were, where he grew up, how he lived, what
his aesthetic choices were. They want to know everything
or almost everything, which is impossible. A lot was written
about Chopin; both important and trivial things, valuable
and inconsequential, scientific and popular. each new essay
15
“brings some new knowledge about Chopin’s music”. Theoretical considerations, musicologist descriptions, scientific
research — are not an end in itself. They are not “art for
art’s sake”. They only make sense when they reveal some
knowledge about the artist and, most of all, about his works
and about his musical language. They make sense when they
lead to performing music. “Music is the only everlasting
art.” each performance of a piece is different. In music, best
is enemy of better. Then, the constant striving for playing
“even better” is the superior value in music.
Introduction
1. The worldview of a man comprises the collection of
beliefs he holds about ethical and aesthetic values, i.e. about
what is ethically and aesthetically positive (good or beautiful)
or negative (bad or ugly). Thus, a worldview is seen to be
composed of at least two constituent parts: the ethical and
the aesthetic aspect.
2. The ethical component of a worldview — in short, the
ethical worldview — comprises beliefs about what is allowed
(or not) to do, and about what should (or should not) be
done in regard to oneself, other people, as well as in regard to
human and extra–human world, with the view to obtaining
ethically valuable results of our actions.
The aesthetic component of worldview — in short, the
aesthetic worldview — comprises beliefs about what is allowed (or not) and what should (or should not) be done —
with the view to obtaining aesthetically valuable products
of our actions.
3. The ethical and the aesthetic components, however,
do not exhaust the idea of a worldview, as they both rely
on one’s view on what the world is like or should be in
general. The foundation belief constitutes the metaphysical
component of worldview, i.e., the metaphysical worldview.
4. each person has a worldview, even if it is not revealed
directly, explicite, and even if it is not conscious on the part
of the holder. The worldview can manifest itself implicite in
the actions of a person, in what the person does and does not
do. In the case of people who propagate an explicit worldview
while revealing another, implicit one through their actions,
there may occur a dissonance between the worldviews if they
differ considerably.
5. The only way to explicitly reveal a worldview is to
express it with words, in a manner ranging from systematic
presentation to occasional allusions.
What we do know for certain about Frederick Chopin’s
worldview belongs, for the most part, to the latter end of the
spectrum, and therefore requires reconstruction.
The reconstruction can be done, on the one hand, on
the basis of Chopin’s own words (especially his preserved
correspondence1) as well as the words of people who have
met him in person, and, on the other hand, on the basis of
what various sources say about the composer’s deportment
in diverse situations which engaged his worldview. Chopin’s
utterances can be further divided into more direct and less
obvious pronouncements of his opinions.
Unfortunately, any attempt at evaluation of the credibility
of the sources, with correspondence at the head of them,
encounters serious difficulties. As regards Chopin’s — and
others’ — correspondence with the homeland, it was subject
to russian censorship; because of that, some issues could
not be raised or were only written about in a veiled manner.
As regards Chopin’s letters home, they frequently lacked
information sensitive issues on or contained softened accounts painful incidents, due to the composer’s reluctance
to further worry his parents, already much grieved by the
mere fact of his emigration.
6. The question arises: whether, in the face of these obstacles, the reconstruction is worthwhile.
In our opinion, it is, and that for two reasons.
1
To avoid lengthy and inconvenient descriptions, quotations from
F. Chopin’s correspondence (except his letters to D. Potocka) will only
be annotated with basic data, sufficient for identification of the excerpts
in available publications, i.e.: the name of the sender, and the name of
the addressee, and the date.
17
First, Chopin was a genius of music. It is worth knowing
as much as possible about a genius.
Second, in the case of musical genius at least the aesthetic worldview of the artist may be more or less strongly
intertwined with creative powers. It would be interesting to
examine whether that was true for Chopin.
Since the aesthetic worldview is the core of an artist’s
worldview, we devote a separate part of the text to Chopin’s
artistic principles.
7. Among the various factors which influence a person’s
worldview, personality plays a considerable role. The shape
of one’s personality, in turn, depends to a considerable extent on the social environment. That is why we precede the
presentation of the Chopin’s worldview with the description
of his personality and of the social environment which
shaped the composer’s personality.
8. Illustrations complete the description. The text is enriched with images of Chopin and of people associated with
him, in addition to facsimiles of Chopin’s texts and drawings,
as well as historical and modern images of places visited by
the artist in his lifetime. The images of places lived in by the
composer have been added on the strength of our conviction
that genus loci is of enormous importance for a worldview,
and that the shape of one’s thoughts is affected not only by
what one has heard others say, but also by where it has
been heard.
9. There are many images of Chopin that have been preserved but only two of them truly show us his soul: the portrait
of the young, teenage Frederick, painted by the equally young
Maria Wodzińska, and the portrait of the dying Chopin,
painted by Teofil Kwiatkowski. Wodzińska succeeded in rendering the flash of penetrating intelligence in Chopin’s eyes,
and in making the mouth express a mild detachment from
others, complemented by a touch of light irony toward his
own person. In the profile he sketched, Kwiatkowski managed
to capture Chopin’s brave acceptance of fate. The remaining
18
portraits of Chopin testify to the complete artistic blindness of
their authors, to say nothing about falsehoods as easy to avoid
as painting the model as a dark–haired man with black eyes.
The gallery of those entirely misguided portrayals is opened
with the so frequently reproduced works by Ary Scheffer and
eugène Delacroix. The face of Scheffer’s Chopin is thoughtless
and indifferent, and that of Delacroix’s likeness — grim and
bitter, contorted with a grimace of disgust. In reality, how far
were thoughtlessness and indifference, gloom and bitterness
from Chopin’s personality!
Similar objections pertain to texts written about Chopin.
There is a great number of them but only select few are worth
mentioning. The more valuable books include the latest Polish
publications: the comprehensive and thorough monograph
by Mieczysław Tomaszewski titled Chopin. Człowiek, dzieło,
rezonans [Chopin. Man, Work, Resonance] (2010), the insightful study Fryderyk Chopin. Człowiek i jego muzyka / The Man
and His Music (2010) by Irena Poniatowska, and the solid
commentary on Korespondencja Fryderyka Chopina [The Correspondence of Frederick Chopin] by Zofia Helman, Zbigniew
Skowron, and Hanna Wróblewska–Straus (2009).
It is our belief that, in spite of drawing extensively on those
although we get out so much from these (and some other)
publications, we still make a contribution to the knowledge
of Chopin’s music.
10. Our book is intended for the listeners and performers of Chopin. It will facilitate the reception of his music by
both groups, and will help the performers empathize with
the composer’s nature, intellectual formation and intentions,
which should result in a more accurate interpretation of
his music.
The reader may ask what makes us believe that this book
can meet such expectations.
Well, we have both been educated not only as philosophers but also as pianists. We have been playing Chopin’s
music since our childhoods, under the guidance of good
teachers. Our academic professors were highly accomplished
specialists: the older of us graduated from Professor Natalia
Hornowska’s piano class at the Warsaw Conservatory, and
the younger of us — Professor Andrzej Pikul’s piano class
at the Cracow Conservatory.
Nevertheless, while writing the book we both started to
see our hero in an altogether new light, and we realized with
full force that after the completion of our task our interpretation of the music would be different. It would be better.
Paraphrasing the words from the report of Chopin’s last
concert in Paris, published in the Gazette Musicale issue of
February 20, 1848 (Czartkowski and Jeżewska 1957, p. 479)
that “Chopin can only be understood with the help of Chopin
himself ”, we may say in brief that in order to fully appreciate
Chopin’s music one must understand his psyche first.
Naturally, we do recognize that Chopin’s works can be
played in a performer’s own way — not necessarily chopin’s
way, also, that we are allowed to express our own soul, and
not only what Chopin may have wanted to express, «in, with,
and through» the works. We know that Chopin accepted
individual interpretation wholeheartedly — so long as it
did not transgress the natural boundaries drawn explicite
by the score. Sometimes, in conversations with Marcelina
Czartoryska, he said (Działyńska 1926, p. 6):
Not the way I am used to playing it, but it was good.
Chopin himself never played a piece quite the same way
twice.
Thus, the choice between, to put it «wisely», acontextual
and contextual interpretation is partly a matter of taste, and
partly, let us be frank about it, a matter of fashion.
11. This book has two authors and, in many respects, we
differ as much as possible.
First, we belong to different generations: the younger
of us was born more than thirty years later than the older
one. Such a generational difference in some cases makes
agreement even on trivial issues impossible.
Secondly, we come from different parts of Poland: the
older of us comes from the Chopin’s homeland: Mazovia;
the homeland of the younger one is adjacent little Poland. Accordingly, the younger of us has the traditional
right (known also to Chopin) to call the older one a “blind
Mazurian”, whereas the older partner may pay back in his
own coin and in accordance with his Mazovian prejudices,
quoting the infamous saying about the inhabitants of the
younger’s region: “Two Poles — three opinions”. The saying
refers to times as distant as the Middle Ages — Mazovia
was definitively incorporated into the Kingdom of Poland
(whose backbone was constituted by little Poland, Great
Poland and Pomerania) in 1529.
That we have reached full agreement on the ultimate form
of the book in spite of all the above mentioned differences can
be seen, in our opinion, as evidence that its content reflects
facts rather than any «whimsical notions» of the authors.
12. We have written this book in close cooperation. We
have arrived at the final version by first separately taking
down what we considered important for the topic, then,
by meticulously disputing any dubitable issues, to finally
merge all ideas which have withstood the criticism, just as
one does with the layers of mazurek, the traditional Polish
easter cake.2
In the end, we share responsibility for each and every
word of the so produced «layer cake» of a text.
***
We dedicate our book to the teachers from our respective
secondary schools of music whose patron, through a strange
twist of fate, was in both cases Frederick Chopin.
“Mazurek” is the little Polish (somewhat spiteful) name for the
Mazovian type of layer cake.
2
19
Anna Brożek dedicates her work to the memory of professor Irena rolanowska of the State Higher School of Music in
Cracow where she made her first steps in the interpretation
of Chopin’s music, not entirely unrewarded, as proved by
a fifteen–year–old contest diploma preserved in the family
archives.
Jacek Jadacki dedicates his work to the memory of the
professors of the State Higher School of Music in Olsztyn,
especially to the memory of his Olsztyn mistress of piano,
Iza Garglinowicz, who he inevitably reminisces about,
much moved, each time he reaches for his copy of Zdzisław
Jachimecki’s monograph titled Chopin. Rys życia i twórczości
[An Outline of Life and Work] which carries a dedication
written by her own hand.
We dedicate this book to our teachers because we have
personally experienced the truth that it is the teachers who
have the greatest impact on the personality and worldview
of their pupils, if only they happen to be naturally gifted
teachers.
And we did have such teachers.
Anna Brożek and Jacek Jadacki
Warsaw, June 23, 2010.
20
part i
social environment
Chapter I. Home
The striking features of Chopin’s family home were his parents’ harmonious coexistence, their extraordinary commitment to children, and strong bonds between the children.
The children repaid the parents with sincere love which,
in relation to their father, was colored with great respect.
During Chopin’s childhood and adolescence, the family
home offered the boy greenhouse growth conditions, and
left an imprint of family duties, including husband’s duties
to his wife. Chopin expressed his understanding of the
responsibilities in a letter of October 30, 1848, to Wojciech
Grzymała:
living hand–to–mouth on one’s own is allowed, but together it is the
greatest misfortune.
later, in his mature life, away from his homeland, Chopin
could always count on extensive support from his family.
During the composer’s emigration years, there were two
culmination points in the cultivation of family ties.
The first one was the meeting with his parents in Karlove
vary after Chopin had left Poland, forever, as it transpired
later on.
Here is what Chopin wrote about the meeting in a letter
of August 16, 1835, to his siblings:
I am au comble de mon bonheur [at the peak of my happiness]. […]
I embrace you and, please, forgive me that it is so difficult for me now to
gather my thoughts and write about anything else than our happiness at
this moment, about how I always only had hope, and today I enjoy the
realization of that happiness and happiness, and happiness.
The second culmination were the two visits of his older
sister ludwika which took place in the summers of 1844
and 1849, especially her second stay, in Paris in the months
before Chopin’s death, and her attentive care of her ailing
brother.
All those who had closer contact with Chopin (including
Ferenc liszt and Mrs. George Sand) emphasized the composer’s great love for his family. It manifested itself through,
among other things, in hiding his life and health problems
from family members to spare them grief and distress. In a
letter of January 1, 1831, to Jan Matuszyński Chopin wrote:
Tell my parents that I am cheerful and do not lack anything, that I
am enjoying myself, and that I am never alone.
The family’s feelings for Chopin were best expressed by
ludwika in a letter of December 15, 1835, to her brother in
which she wrote about his scores:
It is pleasant for us to even look at the notes, which contain thine soul,
one of the most dear to thy family.
1. Father
Frederick Chopin’s father, Mikołaj (originally Nicolas)
Chopin (born on April 15, 1770, in Marainville–sur–Madon,
lorraine, and deceased on May 3, 1844, in Warsaw), was born
in a peasant family from lorraine and was brought up under
the watchful eye of Adam Weydlich, an administrator of the
Polish magnate Michał Jan Pac who owned the village.
It is worth noting that in the years from 1738 to 1766
the Duke of lorraine — where Pac settled after the fall
of the Bar Confederation (in 1772) formed against King
23
Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski and his policy of deference
to Catherine the 2nd of russia — was the dethroned Polish
king Stanislaus leszczyński.
In 1787 Mikołaj Chopin came to Warsaw with Weydlich
and was employed as a clerk in a tobacco factory set up by
Weydlich, which he worked in until its closure after the
Second Partition of Poland in 1792. He participated in the
Kościuszko Uprising as a volunteer in the National Militia
of Warsaw and rose to the rank of lieutenant.
After the Third Partition of Poland he had a number of
jobs, one of which was the post of a tutor to Mateusz and
ewa Łączyńskis’ children in Czerniejewo in Great Poland.
Among his pupils was Łączyńskis’ daughter Maria, the future
Countess Maria Walewska known for her intimate connection with Napoleon, and Count Fryderyk Skarbek from
Żelazowa Wola, Frederick Chopin’s future friend.
It was in Żelazowa Wola where Mikołaj Chopin met
Tekla Justyna Krzyżanowska who later (on June 28, 1806)
became his wife.
In 1810 the Chopin family moved to Warsaw, where he
taught French in a number of schools: the Warsaw lyceum
(in the years from 1810 to 1832), the elementary School of
Artillery and engineers (from 1812), then the Application
School of Artillery and engineers (between 1820 and 1836),
and the Main Seminary later transformed into the roman
Catholic ecclesiastical Academy (years 1834–1837).
He was also a member of the Committee on the examination of Candidates for Public School Teachers (from
1835).
As a teacher of French he had an excellent command of
the language, however, he only mastered it — as an autodidact — after his arrival in Poland, as is evidenced by the
difference between his letter to his parents of 1790 and the
letters he later wrote to his son.
He had a very good knowledge of the Polish language and
literature, including the works of Ignacy Krasicki.
24
He enjoyed music: he was not only an eager listener but
also an amateur performer (a quite good violin player).
In social situations he distinguished himself with refined manners and an apparent reserve sometimes taken
for coldness. With respect to his pupils, he was strict but
also understanding.
One of his charges, Count Fryderyk Skarbek, described
the features in the following way in his Pamiętniki [Memoirs]
(Wójcicki 1858, vol. I, p. 457):
The gentle and friendly approach of Chopin, his careful supervision
of my entire conduct, without needless curtailment of freedom, without
pedantry or excessive coercion — this attitude guided my abilities and
inclinations to the course they should naturally take, and from which they
would stray all too easily under less auspicious leadership.
Above all, Mikołaj Chopin was an enterprising, industrious and righteous individual. It was he who was the model of
the father figure in the youthful tale Podróż Józia z Warszawy
do wód śląskich [Joe’s Journey from Warsaw to the Silesian
Waters], published in 1830 by his daughter ludwika. (The
tale is, in all probability, a reminiscence of a trip to Duszniki–
Zdrój that the Chopin family had taken in the summer of
1826). In the book, «papa» lectures the eponymous character
(Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa 1830, pp. 15, 77 and 13):
A place does not distinguish a man, but a man may distinguish a
place. […] For everyone, diligence and good management are the means
to earn a good living, decent education, and knowledge indispensable for
the fulfillment of one’s vocation. Then, the better one becomes and the
better one serves others with his work, the greater respect he earns and
the greater love he wins among his neighbors.
In your life, remember never to stray from the straight path. […] To
follow the straight path means to always tell the truth and to do as one
says; to speak fairly of others in their presence and in their absence, and
to willingly fulfill all one’s duties.
entrepreneurship, industriousness and righteousness were
complemented by frugality and respect for others, coupled
with a sense of self–dignity.
Almost to the end of his life the father continued to give
advice on various matters to his family, including his son.
In one of the letters of the beginning of 1834 to Frederick
and in a letter of January 9, 1836, his father justified the
persistent coaching with the following arguments:
What you have written about your principles makes me pleased.
yes, dear child, young person may easily err if he does not watch his
own steps. […]
At your age one is not always the master of one’s own will; one is apt
to experience sensations which will not wear off easily.
Therefore, fatherly instruction is… worth following.
Mikołaj Chopin’s counseling concerned primarily the
duties he himself saw as essential, in particular those which
he suspected his son of neglecting to a degree. They were
the obligation to save for the «rainy days», to have respect
for other people and take good care of one’s own reputation,
and — understandably in the case of a sickly child — to
always mind one’s health.
As regards savings, he reprimanded Frederick in the
letters of April 13, 1833, and February 9, 1835:
I will always say that until you have saved a few thousand francs I will
not stop thinking of you as pitiable, in spite of your talent and the flatteries lavished on you; flatteries are but fumes, of no avail in times of need.
Should, God forbid, indisposition or illness force you to stop teaching,
you will be threatened with indigence abroad. The thought of it, I have to
admit, often bothers me because I can see that you live hand–to–mouth
and cannot even afford the shortest journey. […] Do not think I would
want you to be mean; I only wish you would consider your future with
less indifference. […]
remember my song: penny for a rainy day.
The themes of respect for others self–dignity return in
the following letters of June 28, 1832, September 1832, and
in a letter of the beginning of 1834:
you may say what you want but I do not approve of your aversion
to certain people; I do not know what may have caused your prejudice
against them, and I do not approve of your calling someone a “stinker”
at all. […]
I am glad […] to see you live […] in the greatest harmony [with top
artists], without awaking jealousy on their part while at the same time
evoking just appreciation for your talent. […]
Please, always be cautious and do not give occasion for gossip.
Caring for health is emphasized in a letter of the beginning of 1834:
respect yourself, do not allow yourself to get overloaded with the
work, ceremonial calls, and evening receptions.
later he tried to influence his son through Matuszyński,
who he wrote to in a letter of January 9, 1836:
I would [very much] like you to make him be rarer at the late parties,
because going to sleep at 2 a.m. is good for machines, and not for those
whose minds are working and who think.
Father also instilled in Frederick the belief in the great
weight of friendship in life. In a letter of the beginning of
1834, already quoted, he wrote:
I truly regret that you do not have a good friend by your side
because, judging from what you write, last time was not too lucky
for you; after all, one cannot receive all your guests in a room filled
with smoke, especially if one does not — like you do not — smoke
oneself. Still, it must be very sad not to be able to speak to someone
in one’s place.
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Interestingly, Mikołaj Chopin — just like his son later
on — was far from political radicalism of any description,
which was rather rare for Frenchmen at that time. In a letter
of June 28, 1832, addressed to his son, he wrote:
I was very pleased with your letter of the sixth, my dear child, because I may
infer from it that, fortunately, you have not been affected the public violence
incited by human monsters. Some journals claim that Pol[es] took part in the
riots, abusing the hospitality they had enjoyed — do they not have enough of
that madness? So much of it had taken place here. I am convinced that there
could not have been many Poles among the troublemakers, as who could be
mad enough to share their destructive beliefs. How fortunate the fact that the
healthy part of the nation prevailed and that peace has been restored.
In a letter of January 9, 1841, he added, with a pinch of salt:
As Dr. Panglos in [voltaire’s] Candide says, everything in the world
is for the best.
Also in the face of illness and death Mikołaj Chopin and
his son behaved alike. Antoni Barciński, Frederick’s brother–
in–law, wrote of the father in a letter of June, 1844:
[He retained] a calm mind and a peaceful conscience, inner joy and
pride that he managed to raise children capable of love and respect for their
parents, the pleasant feeling of having lived not only for himself but also
for the good of others, and being generally appreciated him and honored
for the righteousness of his character. […]
At the time of weakness, which manifested itself not in physical suffering but in the slow decline of strength, he did not complain of any
inconveniences, and remained quiet, talkative, and even gay, which he did
not need to hide.
2. Mother
Frederick Chopin’s mother, Tekla Justyna née Krzyżanowska
(born before April 15, 1770, in Długie, Kuyavia, and deceased
26
on October 1, 1861, in Warsaw), descended from minor
Kuyavian nobility.
Her family was associated with (and perhaps even related
to) the Skarbek family who owned properties in Izbica, including Justyna’s family village. After the sale of the properties
by Kacper and ludwika Skarbek in 1800, Justyna moved to
their estate in Żelazowa Wola. When — after her marriage
to Mikołaj Chopin — she finally settled in Warsaw, Justyna
brought Kuyavian niece, Zuzanna («Zuzka») Bielska, (c.
1803–1869) there. The niece played a role in shaping the
personality of Frederick.
like her husband, Justyna was a slim person of a prepossessing appearance; she also had a face with regular features
and a serious expression. However, unlike her black–haired
spouse with sad eyes and a straight profile, she had blond
hair, cheerful blue eyes and a slightly aquiline nose, and
those features were inherited by Frederick and Izabela, while
ludwika and emilia took more after their father.
Another similarity between the husband and the wife
was musical talent. Justyna sang beautifully, accompanying
herself on the piano. She had great skill in the use of the Polish language, for obvious reasons, she was a far more fluent
speaker than Mikołaj. She also resembled him in being a
person with high social skills, self–possessed, enterprising,
industrious, righteous, kind, responsible, and — perhaps
more than her husband — economical, although certainly
not stinting.
In Podróż Józia ludwika Chopin puts the following words
into Józio’s mother’s mouth (Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa 1830,
pp. 130–131 and 73–74):
“every age has its griefs” — says Krasicki in his fable titled “The Son
and Father”.
It is true that children do not suffer from great sorrows but, in proportion to their age and circumstances, they do experience as inordinate
distress certain things which seem unimportant in more mature years.
The most effective cure for this, as you will learn yourself, is patience. Be
patient and you will bear all the unpleasant things; divide your time wisely
between learning and fun, then you will not be bored. […]
you should never judge people by their appearance; it is always better
to speak too well about people than to say something bad about them.
What distinguished her most in the Chopins’ household
— but was in fact the norm among Polish housewives — was
fervent faith.
There are friends’ testimonies of her religious ardor,
and it is also visible in the characteristic expressions from
the extant letters she wrote to her son in March, 1837, and
June, 1849:
[I] will pray ask God for his Holy Protection and all kinds of blessings
for you. […]
One has to accept the will of the highest, and God in his mercy will
send you friends who will replace me. […] God bless you and give you
health.
It was probably her faith that allowed her to survive with
great dignity and humbleness the subsequent deaths of her
daughter emilia, her husband Mikołaj, her son Frederick,
and her daughter ludwika.
3. Siblings
3.1. Ludwika
Frederick’s eldest sister, ludwika Chopin (born on April 6,
1807, in Warsaw, and deceased on October 29, 1855, also in
Warsaw), the wife of the lawyer Józef Kalasanty Jędrzejewicz
(wedding on November 22, 1832), was the composer’s most
beloved sister, and she reciprocated that love.
She visited her brother in France twice: first, in July, 1844,
and later in August, 1849, when — because of Frederick’s
deteriorating health — she took care of him until his death.
She returned to Poland only in December, 1849, after dealing
with inheritance and publishing issues.
Being the eldest child, she fulfilled the role of second
mother, a governess, and the first teacher of Frederick. As
an instructor she could combine learning with fun very well,
and taught Frederick the basics of the Polish and French
languages, and of piano playing (she took piano lessons from
Wojciech Żywny who was to be Frederick’s teacher as well).
She was fully aware of the greatness of her brother’s work
and sometimes expressed her appreciation in a humorous
way, like in a letter of February 9, 1835, to Frederick:
your mazurka, the one whose third features the ding dong dong
bit […], was played at the ball of the Zamoyski family throughout the
evening. […] What do you say on being thus profaned?
She possessed great unaffectedness and delicacy of
manner, and was a capable of great kindness and devotion to other people. Her virtues found their expression
in diverse social engagements. In the years from 1831 to
1833 she was a member of the Patriotic Charity Association of Polish ladies (chaired by Klementyna Hoffmanowa
née Tańska, and later by Katarzyna Sowińska, the widow
of General Sowiński) whose aim was providing financial
support to the victims of the repressions following the
November Uprising. It is worth noting that among the
people with whom she was in direct contact at that time
there was Professor Krystyn lach–Szyrma whose recommendations the activists of the Association relied on. Since
1848 ludwika worked in the Warsaw Charity Association
and in the Home for Orphans and Poor Children operated by that society.
She was very well educated — first at home, then in Józefa
Werbusz’s school for girls — and had extensive academic
interests. She was well read in la rochefoucauld and la Bruyère; in spite of the rather pessimistic tenor of these readings
27
and of her own family troubles (misunderstandings with her
husband) she never lost her placidity of spirit.
It was no coincidence that she established cordial relations with Mrs. Sand and Jane Stirling. Mrs. Sand was
simply delighted with ludwika. She considered her to be
a «progressive» woman with a salutary influence upon her
brother; thanks to that influence Frederick was to get rid
of his «superstitions» (Mrs. Sand’s delight was probably
occasioned by ludwika’s seeming acceptance of the «open»
relationship of Chopin and Mrs. Sand).
At the time of her death, ludwika’s library contained
about 150 books, a number of which had probably been
inherited from her parents and her brother. Among the
volumes there were: literary works such as la Fontaine’s
Fables, voltaire’s Novels, and Franciszek Karpiński’s Dzieła
[Works]; music scores, including Mikołaj Gomółka’s Śpiewy
kościelne [Melodies to Polish Psalter], Mozart’s Requiem, and
Beethoven’s Symphonies; and scientific books, among them
Stanisław Kostka Potocki’s O wymowie i stylu [On Enunciation and Style], and Ignaz Urban’s Theorie der Musik.
As already mentioned, ludwika wrote Podróż Józia.
With her sister emilia she also co–authored the novel for
children titled Ludwik i Emilka [Louis and Emily] (1828),
which is a Polish adaptation of one of Christian Gotthilf
Salzmann’s didactic works. The authors’ original contribution was the addition of a motto for each chapter. All the
mottoes were carefully selected from Stanisław Jachowicz’s
poetry for children and from other classics of Polish literature: Jan Kochanowski, Andrzej Zbylitowski, Krzysztof
Opaliński, Ignacy Krasicki, Stanisław Trembecki, Franciszek
Karpiński, Franciszek Dionizy Kniaźnin, Julian Ursyn Niemcewicz, and Wojciech Bogusławski. The selected excerpts
are a good illustration of the value system adopted by the
Chopin family. The valued virtues included: the willingness to learn (Karpiński), prudence (Krasicki), diligence
(Krasicki, Karpiński), frugality (Krasicki), the capacity to
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bear adversity (Kniaźnin), modesty (Opaliński), taking
care of one’s health (Kochanowski), and — with regard to
other people — generosity (Krasicki), sincerity in friendship
(Kniaźnin), respectful behavior (Niemcewicz, Bogusławski),
kindness (Niemcewicz) and helpfulness (Karpiński). The
vices censured in the text were, appropriately: ignorance,
thoughtlessness, extravagance, despondency, a reckless approach toward health, and — with regard to other people
— talking of virtues instead of doing good works, false
politeness, disdain, slander, and abuse. The mottoes also
touched upon «metaphysical» issues: admiration for the
immensity of the universe (Krasicki), the belief that human
life is a mixture of joy and sorrow (Kochanowski), awareness of the difficulty of evaluating the motives behind the
conduct of other people (Trembecki), belief in God’s support
(Kniaźnin) and God’s activity on behalf of the oppressed and
the humiliated (Karpiński), a suspicion of the existence of
innate evil (Karpiński), and the hope that, in the end, evil
should turn against the villains (Karpiński).
ludwika and her sister Izabela also wrote a novel for
craftsmen titled Pan Wojciech czyli wzór pracy i oszczędności
[Mr. Adalbert, or a Model of Diligence and Frugality] (1836)
which depicts the life of a model — hard–working and pious — shoemaker. The novel is prefaced with by a foreword
carrying a distinctive title: “To The Craftsmen, Workmen,
Servants, and Day–laborers”, and each chapter is headed
with (this time, anonymous) moralizing verses.
Another book published by ludwika was a popular science book titled Krótkie wiadomości z nauk przyrodzonych
i niektóre ważniejsze wynalazki [Notes on Natural Science
and Some of The More Important Inventions] (1848) which
contains a selection of basic information on physics and
chemistry, together with brief descriptions of a number of
recent scientific inventions. Being a deeply religious person
— just like her mother — ludwika translated from Italian
a shortened version of Filippo Maria Salvatori’s book about
Saint veronica, and published her translation in 1841 under
the title Krótki zbiór życia św. Weroniki Giuliani [A Short
Description of St. Veronica Giuliani’s Life]. A fragment of the
translation was brought out already in 1840 as Krótki zbiór
ważniejszych rzeczy z życia św. Weroniki Giuliani, kapucynki
[A Brief Collection of the More Important Events from the
Life of St. Veronica Giuliani, a Capuchin Nun], and in 1859
the book was republished under a new title, Zbiór życia św.
Weroniki Giuliani [The Life of St. Veronica Giuliani].
like Frederick, ludwika evinced a strong inclination toward self–reflection; she also recommended introspection
to others. Her essay O pisaniu dzienników [On the Writing of
Diaries] contains the following apology of contemplative habits
(Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa 1838, pp. 207, 210 and 211):
We see children err, and we even see mature people err in their lives;
we forgive the former because we recognize the necessity of mistakes
in the process of learning, but we are not so willing to excuse the latter.
We marvel at other people’s faults without stopping to think of our own
propensity for wrongdoing, and we do not ask ourselves the question about
the sources of evil. lack of reflection, lack of self–knowledge — these are
the real sources of evil. We live, we use the gifts of nature; days and years
pass quickly by, we revel in the luxury of sensations and push suffering
away; and if, in our lives, we experience more sorrows than joys, we recall
those happier moments, we want time to pass faster, we look forward to
future times with some unspecified hope which is hard to concretize, as
we do not ourselves know what our happiness ought to look like. […]
Should the virtues of heart and mind become less alien to us; more
than that, should there be a means of improving them, so that we could
be raised even higher in the eyes of other people […] — I believe that it
would not be right to reject such a means; on the contrary, it should be
employed to the benefit of ourselves, and be advocated, and practiced
by others. Such a means, in my opinion, is constant reflection on oneself
and on one’s environment, i.e. — writing a diary. […]
Thoughts fly away, but once they are transferred to paper they remain
there for so long as they are not intentionally destroyed. As they are
transposed in writing, in the incessant and meticulous process, the image
of our soul will unfailingly reveal itself; our inner self will surface, freed
from the many layers of uncongenial coating.
In a letter of January 9, 1841, to Frederick, she justified
her optimistic outlook in the following words:
Strange things happen in the world, which often deprive a man of
illusions, but I am so unwilling to not deprive myself of them, so reluctant
to do away with that sweetest happiness a man has here on earth! I have
build for myself such a lofty, noble, great, and clean world of educated
people in my imagination that everything that does not match that created
image irritates me enormously; and although many things can be justified,
the justifications are [not real but rather] the effect of indulgence.
After the death of ludwika she was written about as a
model of a modern woman by ludwika Górecka née linde
in Gazeta Codzienna [The Daily Gazette] and eleonora
Ziemięcka née Gagatkiewicz in Gazeta Warszawska [The
Warsaw Gazette]. Seweryna Pruszakowa née Żochowska
celebrated her memory with a commemorative poem in
which ludwika was depicted as the one who could “weave
a golden thread into the fabric of another’s life”.
3.2. Izabela
Izabela (born on July 9, 1811, in Warsaw, and deceased on
June 3, 1881, also in Warsaw), later the wife of mathematician
Barciński (they married on November 8, 1834) who was a
former tutor for the Chopins’ children, looked very much
like her brother. Frederick wrote in a letter of July 18–20,
1845, to his family:
Izabela and I are blondes…
Izabela wrote about Frederick (in a letter of September
7, 1832):
29
My little brother […]. I love [him] more than life.
After ten years nothing changed; in a letter of October
16, 1842, she still called her brother:
My dear Freddie!
like her siblings, Izabela received a good education,
including piano lessons under the supervision of Żywny.
She co–authored the already mentioned novel Pan
Wojciech.
like her sister ludwika, Izabela worked for charitable
organizations. She was a member of the Patriotic Charity
Association of Polish ladies; worked in the Home for Orphans and Poor Children of the Warsaw Charity Association
(1843), and then in the Protection Council of the refuge
House (1844), the Orphans’ and Protective rooms Board
(from 1849) and in the refuge House for Infants (1856). She
helped to lead the family home, especially after her father’s
death, and looked after ludwika’s children after her death.
She was remembered as a generous and selfless woman.
On September 19, 1863, in revenge for the (unsuccessful)
assassination attempt at the governor–general (who answered
directly the russian tsar), Moscow soldiers ransacked the
Zamoyskis Palace where she lived, and among the destroyed
property there were Frederick Chopin’s souvenirs. That event
was alluded to in the Cyprian Kamil Norwid’s wonderful
poem “Fortepian Chopina” [“Chopin’s Piano”] (written at
the turn of the years 1863 and 1864).
3.3. Emilia
The youngest Chopins’ daughter, emilia, was born on November 9, 1812, in Warsaw, and died prematurely on April
10, 1827 (also in Warsaw). like her brother, she bid fair
to accomplish much in the arts; she was especially skilled
in literature. Impressed with Hoffmanowa’s writings, she
30
wanted to become an author herself. She was very well–read
for her age; significantly, in 1825 she rewrote the text of
Ignacy Humnicki’s tragedy Edyp [Oedipus] (whose official
publication date was 1827).
As already mentioned, emilia cooperated with her elder
sister ludwika on the novel Ludwik i Emilka which was
published after her death.
earlier, in 1824, she wrote with Frederick a rhymed
comedy titled Omyłka czyli mniemany filut [The Error, or
a Presumed Joker]. This comedy was staged once, to the
delight of the audience, by consisting of Frederick, Izabela,
emilia, and other adolescents from Mikołaj Chopin’s boarding school.
emilia’s rhyming talents are also visible in the preserved
name day poems which she wrote for her father.
Together, emilia and Frederick founded a «literary and
entertainment society» with emilia as secretary, Frederick
as president, and the remaining residents as members or…
porters.
With her sunny disposition and subtle wit, emilia had a
beneficial influence on the people surrounding her. She preserved her serenity even in the face of approaching death.
Chapter II. City
Chopin was born in Żelazowa Wola, in a wing of a small
palace belonging to the Skarbek family. Happily for the lovers of Chopin, the wing survived the burning of the palace
during the First World War.
However, the main locum of his childhood and youth
was Warsaw, the city which shaped his personality, and
three subsequent places of residence of the Chopin family:
the Saxon Palace, ruined during the Second World War and
never rebuilt (years 1810–1817), the right annexe of the
Kazimierzowski Palace (years 1817–1827), and the left wing
of the Krasińskis Palace (between 1827 and 1837).
In times of Frederick’s childhood and youth, Warsaw,
like other centers of european civilization, was ethnically
diversified. The main element of the mosaic was, naturally,
Polish bourgeoisie, but Germans, Frenchmen and russians
formed an important part of it.
The influx of foreigners — initially Germans, then Frenchmen and russians — began many centuries earlier. The
newcomers appeared in Warsaw in large numbers primarily
as a result of the partitions of Poland in the late eighteenth
century and most of them became naturalized Polish citizens
quickly.
Following the Third Partition of Poland, in the years
1795–1807 Warsaw was included within the Prussian part,
and Prussian administrative staff (among them Samuel
Bogumił linde who will be repeatedly referred to below)
began to settle in the city.
In the years 1807–1815 Warsaw was the capital of the
Duchy of Warsaw, established by Napoleon the Ist, and thus
heavily dependent on France. The influx of Frenchmen into
Warsaw (and all the Polish lands) in the nineteenth century
— officials, specialists in different disciplines, tutors — had
three phases: the first was related to the French revolution
(then Count Alexandre Nicolas de Moriolles, one of close
friends of the Chopin family, came to Poland); the second one
coincided with the establishment of the Duchy of Warsaw;
and the third phase was connected with the failed expedition of the French troops to Moscow in 1812. The French
position was strengthened by the fact that French was the
language of higher levels of society at that time, in Warsaw
and in the whole of europe.
In 1815 Warsaw became the capital of the Kingdom of
Poland created at the Congress of vienna. Until 1916 it was
in a constitutional personal union with the russian empire;
initially it retained political autonomy but after the defeat of
the November Uprising (1830–1831) the state was formally
incorporated into the russian empire. That entailed the
russification of the administration of the state. Incidentally,
among the russian officials, including the environment of
Grand Duke Constantine, the commander–in–chief and de
facto viceroy of the Kingdom of Poland, there were many
Germans from the Baltic provinces of the russian empire
and from rhineland.
Chopin’s Poland, in the apt words of liszt — was “the
country of aristocratic democracy” (1852/1960, p. 36). It was
aristocracy that held most of the key offices in the country,
and set the tone for the intellectual and artistic culture of
the capital. The tone of Warsaw was successfully imitated
by the multi–ethnic bourgeoisie which was enriching itself
and had increasingly refined cultural aspirations.
The architecture of Warsaw was blossoming: private
palaces, public buildings, and temples were created or modernized as a result of work of such masters as Chrystian
31
Piotr Aigner, Jakub Kubicki, and Antonio Corazzi. They left
a classicist imprint on the architecture of the city, and it is
not unlikely that the architectural classicism was one of the
inspirations for the classicism of Chopin’s music.
In Warsaw it was possible for young Chopin to listen to
famous european musicians: Johann Nepomuk Hummel,
Niccoló Paganini, and Maria Szymanowska; and singers
such as Angelica Catalani, Barbara Mayerowa, and Henriette
Sontag.
He could also actively participate in the amateur music
playing in the numerous Warsaw salons. Importantly, from
his earliest age Chopin used to play for Grand Duke Constantine who, it seems, liked Frederick’s childish «compositions». There is a preserved anecdote about young Chopin
looking at the ceiling, as was his habit, during a performance
in front of the Duke who was reported to have asked: “Why
are you looking up like this? Do you have your score up
there?” That the Duke was pleased with the boy’s playing is
proved by the fact that when Frederick dedicated a march
to him, Constantine ordered it to be orchestrated for brass
band and performed as the official war march of «his» royal
Polish Army.
Constantine’s favor was a mixed blessing. On the one
hand, it constituted an entry ticket of a kind to the aristocratic
salons. On the other hand, it was the source of perplexities
of conscience for the maturing Chopin: after all, Constantine
was the chief guardian of the interests of Moscow in Poland,
and one of the direct targets of the November Uprising. The
pangs of conscience must have bothered Chopin even in
much later years, if Solange Clésinger, Mrs. Sand’s daughter,
was informed about the following scene which somewhat
excused the behavior of small Frederick (eigeldinger 1978,
p. 227):
As a young boy, introduced to the salons as a child prodigy, he played
for Grand Duke Constantine. The Duke put him on his knees, trying to
32
caress and to congratulate him. The boy turned his head away with horror
and disgust and lowered the embrace of Moscow.
That is how Chopin himself described the events!
Concert halls and the salons — in short, the cultural
environment of Warsaw — were not the only environment
which molded Chopin’s creative personality. They were
complemented by intellectual atmosphere lent to the city by
teachers, scholars, activists and writers who were drawn to the
capital. Many of them were Chopin’s peers and friends.
1. Teachers and scholars
1.1. Musicians
Direct and conscious influence on Chopin was, naturally,
exerted by his Warsaw teachers, especially (but not exclusively) music teachers: Żywny, elsner, and Würfel.
1.1.1. Wojciech Żywny
Żywny (1756–1842) was a Germanized Czech (born vojtĕch
Živný, he also used the latin equivalent of his name:
Adalbert).
He was educated in his homeland; his teacher was Jan Křtitel
Kuchař, a friend of Mozart, the author of first piano extracts
from Mozart’s operas. Żywny took lessons in violin, piano,
harmony, and counterpoint. He also had musical contacts with
leipzig and Stuttgart. In 1790 Prince Kazimierz Nestor Sapieha
(one of the creators of the Constitution of May 3, 1791) brought
Żywny to Poland as a teacher for his children.
After 1795 Żywny moved to Warsaw where he devoted
all his efforts to teaching and composing; among his works
there were pieces for piano (polonaises, preludes and sonatas), violin, and orchestra. He played the violin and piano;
he was also a conductor.
He taught Chopin in the years 1816–1822. eleven–year–
old Frederick dedicated him a Polonaise in A–flat major.
It was Żywny who instilled a high regard for the works of
Bach and Mozart in young Frederick, and advised his students the repeated practice of preludes and fugues from Das
Wohltemperierte Klavier — a habit adopted by Chopin.
1.1.2. Józef Elsner
The second — and most important — Chopin’s teacher was
elsner (1769–1854), a Silesian German (German form of his
first name: Joseph) whose musical education — in violin and
composition (basso continuo) — began at the Dominicans’
School and at the Jesuit High School in Wrocław where he
also studied theology and medicine.
He appeared in Warsaw in 1799 and remained very active
there. He was an extremely prolific composer of dozens of
masses, cantatas, operas, and of many other pieces, a director
of the National Theatre Opera (1799–1824), an active worker
of the music society called “Musical Club”, the founder of
the Society for religious and National Music, a member of
the Warsaw Society of Friends of learning, a member of
Freemasonry, the owner of a sheet music publishing house,
and a tireless teacher at various music and drama schools in
Warsaw, most importantly, the Central School of Music.
Chopin began taking harmony and counterpoint lessons
from elsner already in 1822.
Among the textbooks elsner recommended to Chopin
there was a little bilingual Polish–German book titled Nauka
harmonii [Learning of harmony] — Anweisung zum General–
Baß, published in Poznań in 1823 by the musician, lithographer and bookseller Karol Antoni Simon (d. 1841).
Here is what young Frederick could read in the “Preface” to his first textbook of composition (Simon 1823, pp.
3–4):
While most musical instruments can only be used to play a melody,
there are some in which melody and harmony become inseparable, such
as piano, harp, guitar, etc. There are, however, many piano players who do
not even realize what rich harmony the instrument is capable of. Pianists
need to know harmony not only for accompanying other musicians but
also if they have a talent and a propensity for composing, and want to
transfer their thoughts onto paper: deficiencies in the knowledge of
harmony, which is fundamental for any kind of composition, will prevent
the development in either of the areas. That certain compositions, written
not so much for listening as according to the [rules of] music, do not find
applause among the audience is due to the ignorance of the knowledge of
harmony. Therefore, every music lover who wants to know the rules of
music and to follow them should get acquainted with the laws of harmony,
the learning of which I have made easier with possibly short and clear
explanations, so I expect this booklet to be received as willingly as the
author has worked on it.
More importantly, Chopin acquainted himself with elsner’s work titled Rozprawa o rytmiczności i metryczności
języka polskiego [Treatise on the Rhythmicity and Metrical
Rhythm of the Polish Language]. We learn about it from
elsner’s letter to Chopin of November 13, 1832:
My three–volume work about Metrionomia i rytmiczność języka
polskiego [Metronimity and Rhythmicity of the Polish Language (which
comprises my thesis on Melodia [Melody], some parts of which you
already know) has been completed; but it cannot be published now
because its basic concerns are musical tendencies and nationality (which
is self–understood), and the latter feature […] must not be shown to the
public, even in a veil. The third volume is about the intimate connection
between poetry and music.
Chopin found in elsner theoretic foundations for his own
innate “rhythmic sensitivity” which was extremely developed
and has no equal (Demska–Trębaczowa 1981, p. 302).
1.1.3. Wenzel Wilhelm Würfel
Chopin’s second piano and organ teacher, after Żywny, was
Würfel (1790–1832), a pianist, organist, and composer,
33
a Germanised Czech like Żywny (the Czech form of Würfel’s
name is: václav vilém Werfel).
Würfel was a professor at the Warsaw Central School of
Music; from the spring of 1825 he lived in vienna where in
1826 he became a conductor of the vienna Opera. It was
he who took good care of Chopin after his departure from
Poland to vienna, and who persuaded him to give a public
concert there.
1.2. Philologists, historians, and theoreticians
of literature and art
The second group which formed an important point of reference for Chopin’s creative attitude were the representatives of
arts and humanities in Warsaw: Aigner, linde, Bentkowski,
Brodziński and Tatarkiewicz.
1.2.1. Chrystian Piotr Aigner
In the years 1817–1825 Aigner (1756–1841) was a professor of architecture at the University of Warsaw. In these
years he designed the construction and reconstruction
of a number palaces and churches, giving Warsaw that
classicist appearance which left a permanent impression
in Chopin’s mind.
Chopin also had at least indirect contact with Aigner’s
aesthetic beliefs explained, inter alia, in Rozprawa o guście
[Thesis on Taste] (1812). In the thesis Aigner wrote that
a true artist (a “workmaster”) only creates when he joins
three elements: taste, common sense, and genius. Chopin
exemplified the merger of the three factors making an “excellent workmaster”: he combined unusually refined taste
with reason, and with extraordinary talents.
1.2.2. Samuel Bogumił Linde
A true friend of the Chopin family was linde (1771–1847),
an eminent philologist and lexicographer of German origin,
although born in Toruń, one of the historical Polish cities.
34
Both linde and his second wife, luiza (née Nussbaum)
were very fond of Frederick. His father speaks of their favor
in a letter to his son of January 9, 1836:
Mrs. linde always speaks of you in superlatives — she is your great
friend.
As eugeniusz Skrodzki (nickname: Wielisław) mentioned
in the second half of the nineteenth century, linde spoke
Polish with a strong Kashubian accent characteristic of
Polonized Germans, and devoiced all the consonants, which
— as might be expected — became the subject of Frederick’s
jokes (Skrodzki 1962, p. 321).
linde’s influence may have been huge in the development of Chopin’s tremendous sense of language. In many
places, the language of Chopin’s letters is «opaque» in
meaning, they contain numerous semantic digressions
and wonderful neologisms — for example, “sniffalitis”,
created to mean a «nose for business» (see a letter to
Julian Fontana of October 1, 1839) or “platerizing” for
behavior akin to that of Count Władysław Plater (see a
letter to Grzymała of December 30/31, 1846); verbal jokes
are also very frequent.
1.2.3. Feliks Bentkowski
Among the university lectures Chopin attended while studying at the Central School of Music there certainly were
the Bentkowski’s (1781–1852) lectures on world history.
Bentkowski was a historian and bibliographer, a member
of Freemasonry, as well as a close friend of the Chopin
family from the time he worked in the Warsaw lyceum
(1803–1817), and later Izabela Chopin’s neighbor.
He was first and foremost a literary historian and the
author of the pioneering two–volume work titled Historia
literatury polskiej [A History of Polish Literature] (1814), but
at the University of Warsaw he was a professor of universal
history (1817–1832), and later a director of The Main Archives of the Kingdom of Poland (1837–1852).
His position in the Polish academic world was strong:
he was a member of the Society of Friends of learning who
became the first honoris causa doctor of the Jagiellonian University; and he felt strongly about his country: he co–designed
The Monument of lublin Union in lublin (1826).
1.2.4. Kazimierz Brodziński
Whereas Chopin’s music mentor was elsner, his greatest master
of aesthetics was, in all probability, Brodziński (1791–1835),
a poet and theoretician of poetry in one person, who simultaneously enjoyed high respect of his colleagues and great
admiration of his students, and the Chopin family’s neighbor
at the time they lived in the Kazimierzowski Palace.
The influence was twofold: first, through university
lectures on the history of literature, attended by Chopin;
second, through Brodziński’s aesthetic works, especially
the thesis O klasyczności i romantyczności tudzież o duchu
poezji polskiej [About Classicism and Romanticism, and the
Spirit of Polish Poetry] (1818). In this work Brodziński distinguished between two kinds of romanticism: French (“full
of life”, “emotional”, “spring–like”, “religious”, and “idyllic”)
and German (“full of memories”, “pensive”, “autumnal”,
“philosophical”, and “elegiac”). It seems quite possible that
Brodziński’s persuasive language played a role in convincing Chopin of the superiority of the «French» variety of
romanticism over the «German» one, especially in the light
of the following remarks made in the thesis (Brodziński
1964, vol. I, pp. 29–30):
Music, which — to an equal degree with poetry — strives for the
infinite as much as poetry striving to infinity and gives rise to vague
images […] must have an important impact on romanticism. […] The
emotional language of music also contains mysteries of human feelings,
it arouses rapture and awakens yearning, like the sight of nature. […] At
the beginning music stirred to joy and dance; the music of present time
elevates our souls to a feeling of pleasurable sadness.
It is worth noting that Brodziński had a solid philosophical
education which he gained at the Jagiellonian University, listening to Feliks Jaroński’s lectures. Jaroński taught Brodziński
to view metaphysics as an introduction to science, useful
for a logical analysis of scientific concepts. Consequently,
Chopin remained unenthusiastic about philosophy conceived
of as mystical speculation, and had a special dislike toward
Andrzej Towiański’s historiosophical fantasies and Norwid’s
etymological divagations.
Brodziński’s works were also a source of important life
instructions. In Brodziński’s essay O wdzięku naturalności
[On the Charm of Naturalness] (1819) Chopin could read
(1964, vol. I, pp. 267, 269):
We adore beauty; wit astounds and entertains us; fertility of imagination ignites and moves us, but we only love naturalness. Beauty fades
away, vividness of imagination fades, the sense of wit becomes dull, but
naturalness is always one and the same. […] We usually only like those
who we can see in their true form. An impenetrable man rarely has friends;
everyone is apprehensive toward him.
Throughout his adult life, openness and secretiveness
continued to fight for supremacy in Chopin’s attitude toward
other people.
In all probability, Brodziński’s influence was also responsible for the formation of Chopin’s political stance. In
any case, there is a striking and hardly accidental similarity
between the attitudes the two men had toward the November
Uprising. They were both opposed to the very idea of it, but,
once began, they both wholeheartedly supported the insurrection: Brodziński in the country and Chopin abroad.
Brodziński was also among the people who aroused
Chopin’s interest in folklore.
35
After Chopin had left Poland, Brodziński published
“Wyjątek z pisma pt. Piękność i wzniosłość” [“excerpt from
Beauty and the Sublime”] (1834), in which he wrote (1964,
vol. I, pp. 275–276):
Genius shows us in his magic mirror not only the beauty of his inner
world, and human nature exalted, as it were, within it, but also the full scope
of its dark side, made more vivid with the colors of hell: this shows the mind
fight between immortality and destruction, desire and will, strength and
weakness of man. […] The sublime makes us pensive, we wonder at beauty.
[…] The sublime is a complex feeling. It is a combination of a kind of sadness
with joy, of conceding both out nothingness and our greatness.
Today, the words sound to us like a characteristic of
Chopin…
1.2.5. Józef Jakub Tatarkiewicz
The list of important people in Chopin’s Warsaw environment
would not be complete without Tatarkiewicz (1798–1854),
a sculptor and theoretician of art, a good friend of Chopin’s
family, and the future author of a bust of Frederick (1850).
Chopin could not have read Tatarkiewicz’s thesis O rzeźbie
(On Sculpture) as it remained in manuscript during both
men’s lives, and was only published in the twentieth century;
but he must have heard people discuss the author’s concepts
on the principles of the composition of a work of art, and
of the social functions to be fulfilled by it. Tatarkiewicz
expressed his notions as follows (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970,
pp. 450–451, 454–455):
The very first principle of a composition is a clear and precise arrangement of things. The arrangement should be such that it does not obstruct
the artist’s idea when the work of art is first observed; moreover, each part
of the work of art be rendered with expressiveness that arouses the senses
of the recipient and moves his sense of aesthetics with full force. Thus,
simplicity is the first characteristic of a good composition. […]
36
Fine arts, apart from appealing to the senses […] and giving pleasure,
should be useful to society — their main goal is to devote their efforts
to virtue and truth, the two human goods. […] The image of perfection
offered by fine arts make ourselves better — through their good taste, selection, and order, fine arts encourage us to improve our moral being.
It is certain that Chopin deliberately strove for transparency of structure of his compositions. However, he did
not intend that their formal excellence should inspire the
audience with a yearning or motivation for moral perfection; in short, he did not bother to invest his pieces with the
«educational» function in the sense Tatarkiewicz assigned
to works of art.
1.3. Biologists, economists, physicians
Chopin liked to poke fun at the “nature explorers” of his time.
In a letter of September 27, 1828, to his family, he reported
on the Berlin Congress of Naturalists:
The gentlemen, especially zoologists, were mainly engaged in an
investigation of the structure of meat, sauces, broth, and the like.
But there were several people also in this group who had
an influence on Chopin and his social circle. They most important of them were Jarocki, Skarbek, and Dworzaczek.
1.3.1. Feliks Paweł Jarocki
In the years 1819–1831 Jarocki (1790–1865) was a professor
of zoology at the University of Warsaw. He was also a poet
whose Pisma rozmaite wierszem i prozą [Collected Works in
Verse and Prose] were published posthumously in 1830.
1.3.2. Fryderyk Skarbek
Skarbek was a professor of political economy at the University of Warsaw in the years 1818–1831 and a member of the
Warsaw Society of Friends of learning.
very likely, he exerted the greatest influence on Chopin’s
political orientation. In his thesis titled O polityce [On
Politics] (1820) he wrote (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, pp.
352, 355):
Private interest is the spring of the activity of every man; good
of the nation is the target for the good wishes and plans of all citizens:
the first one is the force acting inside the country, the second one is the
force acting outside, in the entire human society. […]
The main […] principle of nations seeking political improvement is
as follows: public opinion should not be teased or attacked in a violent
manner, rather, it should be led slowly and gradually to become a stable
guarantee of prosperity and liberties of the nation.
1.3.3. Ferdynand Dworzaczek
Doctor Dworzaczek (1804–1976) was a close friend of the
Chopin family, an opponent of theoretical speculation within
the field of medicine, and the teacher of a number eminent
physicians, including Tytus Chałubiński.
1.4. Philosophers
To reconstruct Chopin’s worldview it is necessary to examine
the philosophical thoughts of some of his peers.
It seems that Chopin knew the philosophy of his time,
both Polish and foreign, far better than some historians,
including Władysław Tatarkiewicz, believe. Chopin knew
many philosophers in person and was also acquainted with
their ideas. Mikołaj proudly spoke of Frederick in a letter of
April 26, 1834, to him:
you have received a thorough education and […] have not only been
reading music scores.
Therefore, contrary to Tatarkiewicz’s convictions (1963,
pp. 735, 737), between the developments of contemporary
philosophy and the workings of Chopin’s mind there were
not parallelisms and synchronisms but also clear, though
obviously unidirectional inspirations.
Three Polish philosophers was setting the tone for the
intellectual life of Warsaw at the time: Szaniawski, Zubelewicz
and lach–Szyrma.
1.4.1. Józef Kalasanty Szaniawski
The oldest of them was Szaniawski (1764–1843). In politics
he went all the way from the left wing of the participants of
the Kościuszko Uprising to the right wing of the opponents
of the November Uprising (just before it started he went
to vienna and returned to Poland only after the fall of the
resurrection).
Despite this evolution, one constant thread is manifested
in his thought and actions: the emphasis on the need to serve
Polish culture and civilization in any accessible, acceptable and
effective manner. Should a course of action fail to fulfill his
criteria of acceptability, he did not hesitate to retreat from current politics (as in 1839, when he tendered his resignation as a
member of the Council of State). Such conduct was consistent
with his subjectivist epistemological credo recapitulated in his
thesis Co to jest filozofia? [What is Philosophy?] published in
1802 (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, p. 62):
The most important criterion of existence and truth can only be
found in ourselves.
Szaniawski expounded his views on society in the work
O naturze i przeznaczeniu urzędowań [On the Nature and
Purpose of Offices in Society] (1808) in which he presented
the “most general social principles”. First, individuals should
be supported within the boundaries of a society, and their
development facilitated. Second, individual rights should
not conflict with the good of society. Third, every nation
represents the land of its origin. Fourth, every nation has
its own specific attributes. On these principles Szaniawski
37
based the following practical directive (Walicki & Sikora &
Garewicz (ed.) 1977, p. 261):
We need to develop more precisely and bravely the distinctive marks of our nation, freeing them from the destructive
rust which has covered them due to two centuries of foreign
influence […] [–] this is a great aim whose realization we have the
pleasure and honor to participate in.
That was the characteristic feature of Szaniawski’s thought:
the belief that care about Polish tradition not only does not
conflict with european (as we would call them today) interests, but is their essential component. Chopin’s statements
and actions on many occasions echoed the philosophical
beliefs and principles we have summarized above.
1.4.2. Adam Ignacy Zubelewicz
Chopin could have come in contact with the ethical ideas
dominant in Warsaw in the twenties of the nineteenth century through Zubelewicz (1784–1831), a professor at the
University of Warsaw in the years 1818–1829. We learn about
Zubelewicz’s ideas from the university lecture O zasługach
Platona w filozofii [On Plato’s Merits for Philosophy], given
to the public and brought out in print in 1821.
like Plato, Zubelewicz considered ethics to be the core
of philosophy (1821, p. 59):
Plato saw all parts of philosophy as closely […] connected. He extended
the effect of dialectics [scil. logic] to the whole of philosophy, as Plato
maintained that philosophy can only achieve scientific nature through
logic, which provides methods for philosophical speculation. Theology
[scil. metaphysics] he considered to be the highest of theoretical skills.
He viewed ethics as the highest of practical skills because he thought of
philosophy as cognition inseparable from moral action, the ultimate goal
of man. Plato’s understanding of philosophy differs from that of today’s
philosophers in wording only, not in substance.
38
The basis of Plato’s ethics was anthropological optimism —
the belief that man is inherently good and will act virtuously
if only he fully realizes his nature. Plato identified individual
ethical excellence with inner harmony. More than that, he
considered harmony to be the essence of ethical excellence.
In his reports, Zubelewicz expressed his approbation for
Plato’s views on this matter.
These beliefs must have been very common in Warsaw
at the time, as they are also expressed — after their own
fashion — by the aforementioned artists–aestheticians:
Aigner and Tatarkiewicz.
Interestingly, Zubelewicz shared Szaniawski’s subjectivity
— at least, as regards evaluation of the worth of man. The
quoted thesis contains passages on the topic (Zubelewicz
1821, p. 51):
The greatness of man is only relative; first one would have to define
the scale according to which it could be estimated.
It is also worth noting that one of Chopin’s motives for
traveling abroad was finding a “scale” which could serve as a
point of reference for his talent. In the end, the «evaluation»
turned out to be positive for the composer.
1.4.3. Krystyn Lach–Szyrma
Warsaw’s most prominent philosopher of that time was
certainly Zubelewicz’s student lach–Szyrma (1790–1866).
Chopin probably did not attend his lectures — at least, that
is what we learn from Władysław Tatarkiewicz (1963, p. 735)
— but he met the philosopher in person and was familiar
with the general outline of his thought. It might also be noted
that lach–Szyrma participated in the November Uprising
as a commandant of the Academic National Guard.
Chopin may have encountered lach–Szyrma’s views in
the form of public statements and printed works, in particular the thesis O związkach myśli [On Connections between
Thoughts] (1825). His attention could have been drawn
in particular to what lach–Szyrma had to say about the
rationally understood «metaphysics» of music.
lach–Szyrma wrote e.g. about a holism in musical perception, pointing to the fact that a melody composed of a
great number of sounds, even if it is performed by an orchestra, is heard as one whole. Similar ideas were developed
a hundred years later by the German psychologists from
Carl Stumpf ’s circle in the form of gestalt psychology and
phenomenology.
lach–Szyrma also wrote about the metaphorical nature
of musical terminology, noting that recourse to the analogy
of metaphor is inevitable when one wants to express musical
ideas in words.
One of lach–Szyrma’s sentences became Chopin’s life
principle (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, p. 309):
A head that thinks in a proper way will act properly: for no one acts
in contradiction to his thoughts, rather, a man acts according to their
inspiration.
Also, Chopin must have experienced the painful effects of
the rule of memory described by lach–Szyrma (Tatarkiewicz
(ed.) 1970, p. 302):
The vividness and clarity of an object showing itself to one’s memory
remains in direct proportion to the power and emotion that accompanied
his initial perception. Glowing and striking items can be recalled with
greater ease than dark and neutral ones. Great joy and great sorrow are
remembered throughout life: whereas small joys and small sorrows, as
they are born every day, so they are blurred in our memory on everyday
basis.
To that we may add a description of the strange way in
which Chopin’s and lach–Szyrma’s roads crossed in Scotland.
Describing in Pamiętnik mego życia [The Diary of My Life]
(1864/1872) his first visit in edinburgh in 1824, lach–Szyrma
noted (1864, pp. 8–9):
One memorable meeting for us was a concert with reading, the
more memorable as it was organized specially for us. It was arranged
by Janiewicz, a Pole who had long been a resident in edinburgh […].
Janiewicz played his own compositions, based on Polish national songs,
on the violin, and among others he also played Ogiński’s great Polonaise.
[…] A few days later our good compatriot invited us to an evening
party during which we were treated to another concert. His daughter,
a fluent piano player, played for us and sang Polish and Scottish songs.
The time passed pleasantly, as if in one of the hospitable house by the
Niemen or Wilia river, because Janiewicz was a lithuanian by birth,
and although he spend all his childhood abroad, he preserved all his
national feelings.
It is not inconceivable that during his journey to Scotland a quarter of a century later Chopin may have pictured
in his imagination the person of the Warsaw professor of
philosophy who, after the defeat of the November Uprising, had settled in Scotland (first in edinburgh and later
in Devenport). Perhaps, he even met him there in his own
person.
2. Activists and writers
From among the activists and writers of the older generation who exerted the strongest influence over Chopin, at
least Potocki, the Sowińskis, and Hoffmanowa must be
mentioned here.
2.1. Stanisław Kostka Potocki
The person of incomparable impact on the Poles’ morale in
the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century was Potocki
(1755–1821), Grand Master of Polish Freemasonry (whose
member he was from at least 1784), and official supervisor
of the Warsaw lyceum (since 1805).
39
Potocki integrated two apparently contradictory theoretical stances: metaphysical fatalism and anthropological
optimism.
In one of the feuilletons published in the years 1816–1817
under the title Świstek krytyczny [A Scrap of Criticism] Potocki propounded fatalism (1820, p. 3):
The world is a great lottery in which we see only winners and losers.
Beauty, intelligence, wit, birth, wealth, power, talents, honors, even health,
in a word, everything but virtue, is a lucky prize in a lottery.
On the other hand, in Mowa miana przy otwarciu Liceum Warszawskiego [Speech for the Opening of the Warsaw
Lyceum] (1805) he contended (Potocki 1816, vol. II, pp.
127–128):
From among the goods a wise government may offer to its citizens,
the most important one is proper care for the upbringing of youth, as
that is the guarantee of prosperous future of the Country.
In Podróż do Ciemnogrodu [A Journey to Gotham] (1820)
he observes gravely (Potocki 1820, p. 77):
It was not education but the lack of it, coupled with uncurbed passions, that has stained with blood and dishonored european revolutions.
We cannot, however, deny that the revolts did overthrow a number of
pernicious superstitions even as they have brought on disasters.
2.2. Katarzyna and Józef Sowińskis
The Chopin family maintained cordial contacts with Katarzyna (1776–1860) and Józef (1777–1831) Sowińskis.
During his childhood, Frederick frequently met the couple
in his family home.
Mrs. Sowińska, a Calvinist of German origin, was a model
of charity for the Chopins’ children: she was a nurse in the
November Uprising, and after that she helped the insurgents’
40
families persecuted by the tsarist authorities. She was also a
paragon of steadfastness: she never ceased in her charitable
works, even though she was sentenced to two–year imprisonment (in the years 1835–1837). Chopin dedicated to her
his Variations in E major on a German National Air (on the
Tyrolean Song “Steh’ auf, steh’ auf, o du, Schweizer Bub”).
Sowiński, who was a hero of the Kościuszko Uprising and
the Napoleonic wars (a veteran of the siege of Smoleńsk and
the Battle of Borodino), made friends with the Chopins as a
commandant of the Application School of Artillery and engineers in which Mikołaj Chopin was a professor of French. He
was killed during the November Uprising as a commandant of
fortifications of the Wola district of Warsaw. His death was regretted by Chopin in Album Stuttgarcki [Stuttgart Album]:
Sowiński, this good fellow, in the hands of those rogues [scil.
Moskals]!
By “good fellow” (Polish “poczciwiec”) Chopin meant
an exceptionally honest and noble man, for such was the
opinion Sowiński enjoyed among his friends, including
Frederick.
2.3. Klementyna Hoffmanowa née Tańska
As we remember, Frederick and his sisters held Hoffmanowa
(1798–1845) in especial respect. Hoffmanowa was unreservedly devoted, in word and deed, to charitable works and to
the cause of women’s empowerment.
It was her footsteps that Chopin followed during his visit
to Wieliczka and the Ojców vicinity.
3. Peers and friends
Chopin’s character was also built through his contacts with
young people from different parts of Poland (as well as lithuania and ruthenia) met in his parents’ boarding school, and
through interactions with the school instructors.
The school enjoyed a very good opinion in Warsaw. Its
reputation was maintained with the help of two mutually
reinforcing factors: that it employed the best of Warsaw
teachers, and that it was popular among the ‘prominent’
families from all over the country. Both qualities provided
young Frederick’s with enhanced opportunities for contact
with peers and their excellent tutors.
Chopin was a graduate of two Warsaw schools: the Warsaw lyceum (where he began his education in 1823, from
the fourth grade, and which he graduated from in 1826),
and the Central School of Music at the University of Warsaw
(from which he graduated in 1829).
While at the Warsaw lyceum, as confirmed by liszt
(1852/1960, p. 130; liszt consulted this with ludwika
Chopin), Chopin was friends with, among others, Borys, Kalikst, and Włodzimierz Czetwertyński, and became a favorite
of their mother, Princess Idalia ludwikowa Czetwertyńska;
it was through the Princess’s patronage that Frederick began
to frequent the salons of Grand Duke Constantine and his
wife, Joanna Grudzińska.
Chopin’s colleague at the Central School of Music who
achieved the greatest prominence in later years was Ignacy
Feliks Dobrzyński (1807–1867).
At the same time Chopin maintained close bonds with
his peers from the Warsaw literary circles: Stefan Witwicki
(1801–1847), Seweryn Goszczyński (1801–1876), Bohdan
Zaleski (1802–1886), Maurycy Mochnacki (1803–1885),
Antoni edward Odyniec (1804–1885), Konstanty Gaszyński
(1809–1866), and Dominik Magnuszewski (1810–1845). One
of the things they had in common was the «sweet dream»
of public appreciation, accompanied by bitter awareness the
transience of fame.
The group included both the followers (Goszczyński)
and determined opponents (Witwicki and Zaleski) of the
armed struggle for the restitution of the Commonwealth.
Significantly, once the uprising broke out, they participated
in it almost without exception (apart from Witwicki, who
had very poor health, and Odyniec, who had emigrated
before the outbreak of the uprising); Mochnacki was among
the leaders and chroniclers of the uprising. After the defeat
of the uprising almost all of them (with the exception of
Odyniec and Magnuszewski) emigrated to France and (all
except Goszczyński) stayed there, like Chopin, for the rest
of their lives.
They were mainly poets (Goszczyński and Zaleski belonged to the so called Ukrainian school in Polish poetry,
referring to the culture — including folklore — of the south–
eastern districts of the State). Mochnacki, as a pianist and
publicist, was an exception. Also Witwicki and Gaszyński
dabbled in journalism; Odyniec and Magnuszewski were
also playwrights.
Special ties bound Chopin with Witwicki (most of Chopin’s
songs were composed to his poems), Zaleski (Chopin’s pupil,
Zofia rosengardtówna became his wife) and Magnuszewski
(they were friends since the times of learning at the Warsaw
lyceum).
It can be presumed that Mochnacki might have had some
impact on the aesthetic views of Chopin. In his reviews
he criticized the ideology behind his music and virtuosic
showiness, praising, however, the melodiousness, lyricism
and artistic «sincerity». Also Mochnacki’s and Chopin’s
views on the semantic features of music appear to converge.
In “Artykuł, do którego był powodem Zamek Kaniowski
Goszczyńskiego” [“The Article to Which the reason Was
Kaniowski Castle by Goszczyński”] (1829) Mochnacki wrote
(Mochnacki 1987, p. 199):
Musician […] reveals hidden, secret thoughts […] with the systematic
arrangement of sounds.
Note that Mochnacki had a special vision of the scientific
art criticism. He wrote in a polemic with Brodziński in the
41
text “O krytyce i sielstwie” [“On the Criticism and Idyllness”]
(1830) (Mochnacki 1987, p. 265):
The main and most important task of good criticism is: to inquire,
to explain the system of concepts and ideas, whether of the past or the
contemporary civilization. […] The critic provides historiography with
its materials. He collects, dissects, organizes, illuminates history. He says:
“what was”, truly allows to see: “what is”. But he never commands nor
rules. He does not say: “this is how things should transpire”.
The fact that Mochnacki saw in young Chopin much
of that for which we value him today is evidenced by his
review from Kurier Polski [The Polish Courier] published
on March 20, 1830:
It is difficult to say what prevails in him, talent of composition or
masterful execution. Aside originality — the beautiful singing, great and
bold passages in harmony with the character of the instrument, adorned
in vivid color of feeling and fire, and finally — all these relevant pieces
combined in one — all these are the main features of his compositions.
[…] The earth, which gave him life with its singing, influenced his musical
disposition, sometimes manifesting itself in Chopin’s works: many sounds
of his tones seem to be like a reflection of our happy native harmony. An
easy mazurka willingly changes and modulates under his hand, retaining
proper integrity and accent. To combine the sophisticated performance
and brilliant compositions with the beautiful simplicity of a family tune,
as it was mastered by Chopin, one must have the right feeling, must know
the echoes of our fields and forests, to hear the song of Polish peasant.
42
Chapter III. Homeland
1. Country
1.1. Mazovia
Country of Chopin’s childhood — and more precisely childhood and adolescence — was of course Poland.
Chopin’s Poland is outlined by six places: where he was
born, where he lived, where he used to spend the summer,
where he made sightseeing trips, where he was being treated
and where he played at the invitation; the last three of these
places partially overlap.
The place of birth — Żelazowa Wola — has already been
mentioned. This is — the core of Mazovia.
The place of baptism is closely linked to the place of birth
— sometimes it is the same as the previous one. In Chopin’s
case it was Brochów — precious to him also because here
his parents and sister ludwika were married.
We have also already mentioned Warsaw — the place
where he lived with his parents continuously until he moved
abroad. This is also the core of Mazovia.
Chopin’s summer dwellings were friendly manors. It must
also be stated clearly that he was a typical townsman. Manors
were for him just a holiday retreat, a place of romantic sighs
and ethnographic observation — but the village as such he
did not like, neither Polish nor French. He wrote about this
openly in a letter of August 18–20, 1845, to his family:
I am not suited to the village, yet I do use the fresh air.
In the native Mazovia — more specifically in the Płock
Mazovia — Chopin’s summer dwellings were Kowalewo near
Drobin (estate of Count Ksawery Zboiński) and Sanniki near
Gąbin (estate of Aleksander Paweł Pruszak). In Kowalewo
Chopin was in 1827, in Sanniki — in 1828. In 1827 Chopin
also visited Płock.
1.2. The Land of Dobrzyń
Usually Chopin spent his summer in the land of Dobrzyń
— a part of Mazovia, which includes roughly the territory
between the rivers vistula, Skrwa and Drwęca. The estates,
which he used to visit, were in the vicinity of three historical
centers of the land of Dobrzyń.
The first center is lipno (in the south), near which there
is Kikół — Count Karol Zboiński’s estate, in whose palace
Chopin gave concerts in 1827, and a village of Obrowo,
where in 1825 he used to play with the country musicians
during dances.
The second center is rypin (in the northeast). Near rypin
were located Ugoszcz (Antoni Borzewski’s estate) and Gulbiny (Alojzy Piwnicki’s estate) which Chopin visited during
his stay in Szafarnia in 1824 and 1825.
The third center is Dobrzyń–Golub, in which area were:
Szafarnia, estate of Juliusz Dziewanowski, Chopin’s friend
Dominic’s father; Sokołowo and Białkowo, estate of Antoni
Wybraniecki, Chopin’s friend Jan Białobłocki’s stepfather;
and finally Dulsk, the estate of parents of another Chopin’s
friend — Józef Wysocki — whom Frederick used to visit
during his stays in Szafarnia and Sokołowo in 1824 and
1825.
The most important, for Chopin — and for explorers of
his work — was his stay at Szafarnia, which he related in
detail to his parents in a humorous handwritten magazine
Kurier Szafarski [The Szafarnia Courier].
Here is a characteristic «musical» fragment from this
magazine from August 31, 1824:
43
On the 29th day of the current month and year his lordship Pichon [scil.
Chopin] passing through Nieszawa heard Catalani sitting on the fence, who
was singing something loudly. He became much engrossed, and although he
had heard the aria and the voice, still dissatisfied with this, sought to hear the
words. He twice passed the fence, but in vain, for he understood nothing, until
finally, out of curiosity, he took out three pennies, and promised them to the
singer, as long as she repeated the song. For a long time, she squirmed, grimaced
and made excuses, but encouraged by the three pennies, she made up her
mind and began to sing a mazurka from which the editor [scil. Chopin], with
the permission of sovereignty and censorship [scil. ludwika Dziewanowska,
Szafarnia’s owners’ oldest daughter], quotes only one verse as an example:
See there, beyond the mountains, the mountains as a wolf is dancing,
And yet he has no wife, for he is in such grief [scil. fatigue] (bis).
How carefree and joyful is the picturesque description
of lord “Pichon”!
1.3. The Land of Chełmno and Pomerania
To the west of the land of Dobrzyń — between vistula, Osa
and Drwęca — the land of Chełmno stretches, originally,
like the land of Dobrzyń, part of Mazovia, then a component
of Teutonic Country, ultimately incorporated with it to the
Commonwealth as a part of Polish royal Prussia. In times
of Chopin the land of Chełmno was outside the Kingdom
of Poland — within the German Kingdom of Prussia.
Here is Turzno (Augustyn Działowski’s estate), where
Chopin stayed a few times — in 1825 and later.
Here is Toruń too, which Chopin had visited in 1825 —
taking notice in his correspondence of the distinctive buildings: The leaning Tower (“The Slanting Tower” — as Chopin
himself called it), City Hall and the house of Kopernik.
Other historic districts of Poland — are essentially places
of Chopin’s tourism, treatments or concerts.
As a tourist Chopin visited (in 1827) Pomerania — at
that time located in the borders of the Kingdom of Prussia
— and its pearl: Gdańsk.
44
On the occasion of a trip to Gdańsk he stayed in Kozłów
near Świecie, in Ksawery Zboiński’s estate, and in Waplewo
near Sztum, Antoni Sierakowski’s estate.
1.4. Little Poland and Great Poland
Also as a tourist in 1829 Chopin found himself in little
Poland. For several days he was sightseeing the former Polish
capital Cracow — which in times of Chopin had a status of
a Free City (as so called republic of Cracow) — with Collegium Maius in the vanguard.
He also went to the nearby Wieliczka as well as to Ojców
and Pieskowa Skała.
While in 1830 he was in Poturzyn near Hrubieszów at his
friend’s — Tytus Woyciechowski’s parents’ estate.
Of all the places of Great Poland, visited by Chopin, the most
important was Antonin near Ostrzeszów, belonging to Prince
Antoni radziwiłł, by whom Chopin was invited in 1829.
He also visited Strzyżewo near Ostrów Wielkopolski,
where his godmother, Anna Wiesiołowska lived.
In the capital of Great Poland — Poznań — he stopped
briefly in 1828, giving among others concerts at Archbishop
Teofil Wolicki’s.
equally briefly — in 1829 — he was in Żychlin near
Konin, at the wedding of his friend from Warsaw, Melania
Bronikowska, and — passing — several times in Kalisz,
including in 1830, on his way to vienna.
1.5. Silesia
For health reasons, Chopin spent some time in 1826 in
Duszniki–Zdrój in Silesia, where he also gave a charity concert. Silesia was once a part of the territory called “Regnum
Poloniae”, but from the late Middle Ages, its political ties
with Poland started to loosen.
Silesia was not a district of the Commonwealth of Poland
before the partitions — incorporated in the second half of
the fourteenth century to the Bohemia; in the early sixteenth
century, together with the Bohemia to Austria; in the middle
of the eighteenth century it was conquered by the German
Kingdom of Prussia; it has retained its affiliation with Germany until the end of the Second World War.
Apart from Duszniki — after 1825 Chopin was three times
in the capital of Silesia — Wrocław. He gave two concerts
there as well.
2. Heritage
Not only his contemporary Warsaw cultural environment
influenced Chopin, but also some coryphaei of Polish musical, literary and philosophical tradition — including those
active outside of Warsaw.
2.1. Musical tradition
2.1.1. Antoni Radziwiłł
Much points to the fact that Mikołaj Chopin actively sought
Prince radziwiłł (1775–1833), cellist and composer, to take
care of his son (Iwaszkiewicz 1955, p. 71). There are reasons
to believe that such endeavors have been crowned with
success — and Prince radziwiłł was a discrete (via Antoni
Kożuchowski) patron of Frederick until his own death (liszt
1852/1960, pp. 124–125).
During a visit in radziwiłł’s home in Antonin, Chopin
had the opportunity to hear the Prince’s works — including
music for Faust, which made a strong impression on him.
Chopin in return wrote two pieces for radziwiłł: Trio in G
minor, Op. 8, and Polonaise in C major, Op. 3. In gratitude
for his work, which was dedicated to him, the Prince wrote
in a letter of November 4, 1829, to Chopin:
My dear Chopin! I accept with great gratitude the dedication of the
Trio of your composition, that you were kind enough to dedicate to me.
Please, if you will, try to even speed up the printing, so that I may have the
pleasure of playing it with you during your stay in Poznań on your journey
to Berlin. Please accept, Sir, the re–assurance of my genuine interest, which
your talent aroused in me, as well as of my high respect for you.
2.1.2. Maria Szymanowska
There is no doubt that Chopin followed closely Szymanowska’s
(1789–1831) artistic activity — both in piano and
composition.
Therefore it is worth noting two facts concerning her.
First — she remained in close contact with (and perhaps she
was also a student of) Franciszek lessel (about 1780–1838),
who was one of the best students of Haydn. Secondly — her
works almost exclusively include those forms which were
later practiced by Chopin: preludes, nocturnes, polonaises,
waltzes, mazurkas, fantasies, variations and songs; she also
wrote Serenade for cello and piano — dedicated to… Prince
radziwiłł.
2.2. Literary tradition
In times of Chopin the closest and most powerful trend of
the Polish literary tradition was sentimentalism — in the
persons of Adam Naruszewicz, Karpiński and Antoni Malczewski. Amongst the enthusiasts of sentimental poetry was
linde (apparently he had the habit of reciting from memory
Naruszewicz and Karpiński’s poems to the students of the
Warsaw lyceum), which must have left a lasting mark on
the literary tastes of his pupil.
2.2.1. Adam Naruszewicz
In Warsaw, in 1805, thanks to the efforts of Tadeusz Mostowski, Naruszewicz’s (1733–1796) Wiersze różne [Miscellaneous
Poems] were published. linde probably had them, so did
Mikołaj Chopin — and his son, Frederick, must have had
to look through the two volumes of this wonderful series
of Wybór pisarzów polskich [The Selection of Polish Writers]. And if so, he remembered for a lifetime the verses of
Naruszewicz’s idylls and stories.
45
Chopin will be hearing the echoes of his idylls and stories
throughout his later life.
2.2.2. Franciszek Karpiński
To deal directly with Karpiński’s (1741–1825) poetry Chopin
owes the richness of his vocabulary relating to emotions — especially «sentimental»: longing, regret and sorrow. Karpiński’s
poetry certainly reinforced in Chopin his feeling of love for
his homeland. And certainly he sang with his family — as it is
sung in Poland until this day — the beautiful «mazurka» carol
to Karpiński’s words: “Bóg się rodzi…” [“God is born…”].
2.2.3. Antoni Malczewski
We are allowed to presume, that Chopin had in his hand a
copy of Maria [Mary] by Malczewski (1793–1826), published
in 1825, a piece which is a kind of poetic analysis of the
phenomenon of longing and sadness.
2.3. Philosophical tradition
The University of Warsaw of the first half of the nineteenth
century was in the predominant trend of antispeculative
philosophy, appealing to the principles of common sense. This
trend was represented, among others by Zubelewicz and lach–
Szyrma; outside Warsaw the most important representatives
of this trend were Anioł Dowgird (1776–1835) and Michał
Wiszniewski (1794–1865). The first one was a philosopher
active in vilna (where he was Adam Mickiewicz’s teacher of
logic), but was also well known in Warsaw (as a member–
correspondent of the Warsaw Society of Friends of learning).
The second one was a professor at the Jagiellonian University,
who practiced, apart from philosophy — and especially methodology — psychology and the history of literature.
2.3.1. Feliks Jaroński
Particularly noteworthy is, apart from already mentioned
ones, a philosopher from Cracow — Jaroński (1777–1827)
46
— who has already been mentioned in connection with
Brodziński, a student of his lectures at the Jagiellonian University — author of an important programming text titled
Jakiej filozofii Polacy potrzebują [What Kind of Philosophy
do the Poles Need] (1810). It contained three methodological
postulates, peculiar to the philosophy of common sense.
The first postulate recommended to treat philosophy as the
logical basis of all knowledge (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, p. 13):
Philosophy [is] the general ability or introduction to all branches
of skills.
The second was a call for minimalism and practicism
(Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, pp. 15–16):
Where […] there are final limits […] of reason? Here they are: (1)
let a man want to know just what his own mind can overwhelm. (2)
let a man to apply what he knows to greater self improvement, or to do
himself morally better and happier. […] What am I? What do I know?
What should I expect? What should I do? These are the questions that
philosophy should answer everyone for.
According to the third postulate, the special interest of philosophers should be language (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, p. 37):
[Because] the most common source of error are the disadvantages of
language and using words that do not have fixed meaning.
Through Brodziński these ideas have found their way to
his listeners in Warsaw — including Chopin, who used these
principles as a measure of the value of philosophical views,
with which he met after leaving the Poland.
2.3.2. Józef Bychowiec
Among other reasons it is noteworthy that philosopher
Bychowiec (1778–1845) from vilna, who studied for some
time in Królewiec (where he met personally with Immanuel
Kant) — Joachim Murat’s adjutant later. In Słówko o filozofii
[A Short Word about Philosophy] (1816), known in intellectual circles, which formed the personality of Chopin, he
spoke in a manner characteristic for the need of lifelong
artistic taste (Tatarkiewicz (ed.) 1970, p. 142):
A man does not stop attaining the knowledge after he knows how to
perform his duties; it is not enough for him to meet the essential needs:
he wants to have the nature of his existence, if possible, more pleasurable.
He admires his beauty and noble pathos (le beau et le sublime), so he looks
for regulations to improve its taste.
2.3.3. Bronisław Ferdynand Trentowski
Almost a peer of Chopin was Trentowski (1808–1869), who
was listening — like him — Brodziński’s and lach–Szyrma’s
lectures at the University of Warsaw. Although ultimately
he devoted himself to creating romantic «national» philosophical fantasies, he refers very critical — like Chopin — to
the doctrine of Towiański (1799–1878), which derailed
many minds, especially in the Polish emigration in Paris.
He wrote in the published in 1845 “rzecz dotycząca się
towiańszczyzny” [“Paper on the Towiańskism”] (Walicki &
Garewicz & Sikora (ed.) 1977, p. 280):
everyone with common sense and trim mind sees in it [in the science
of prophets] — by himself — despite the disposition of his countrymen to beautiful and poetic knowing and to supernatural, in spite of all
pretenses of celebrated scholarship, skill and genius, despite so many real
and venerable truths — the dark side of human life significantly lightening
for us a high level of the most obvious insanity.
Almost the same words Chopin spoke about messianism in general and about towiańskism in particular — and
lack of personal contacts within the Paris period with Józef
Hoene–Wroński (1776–1853) and Towiański (Tatarkiewicz
1963, p. 736) looked like ostentation, though about one of
the followers of towiańskism, Izydor Sobański, he spoke
with a high praise in a letter to Fontana of September 11,
1841:
I am not afraid for Mick[iewicz] and Sob[ański]; they are stout
heads and can survive few more emigrations, [and] not to lose reason
or energy.
3. Abroad
Chopin in Paris very quickly found himself in the center
of artistic and intellectual capital of France; some explain
it, inter alia, with Chopin’s alleged membership in masonic
organizations (see, for example Iwaszkiewicz 1955, p. 143).
very fast — in 1833 — he became an official member of the
Polish literary Society.
After leaving Poland, Chopin, however, lost contact with
the academic philosophers: there is, in particular, no traces
of contact with leading French philosopher of those times,
a professor at the Sorbonne — a historiosophic philosopher
victor Cousin (1792–1867). In Chopin’s circle there were
two philosophizing politicians, two philosophizing essayists — and two philosophizing poets; the first four were
foreigners — two other immigrants from Poland.
Two philosophers–politicians were: Joseph de Maistre
(1753–1821) and louis de Bonald (1754–184). A much more
important for Chopin’s world view and creative attitude had
the remaining four.
3.1. Philosophizing essayists
3.1.1. Hugues Félicité Robert de Lamennais
With lamennais (1782–1854) Chopin acquainted thanks to
Mrs. Sand, who was a great admirer of his socialist–Christian
political program. Mrs. Sand wrote of him in Histoire de ma
vie (Sand 1855, vol. xII, pp. 134–144):
47
[life of lamennais was] the progress of intelligence born of the bonds
of old beliefs and sentenced by Providence for loosening and breaking
them among a thousand afflictions, under the influence of logic more
powerful than doctrine — the logic of feeling.
Chopin, like all Polish emigrants in France, respected
him for his liking for the Polish cause. lamennais wrote
in an essay “Prise de varsovie” (lamennais, F. de, Oeuvers
complètes, vol. II, Bruxélles 1839, Société Belge de librairie.
Hauman et Compe, p. 477) published in 1831:
The heroic Polish nation, abandoned by France, rejected by england,
was killed in the fighting, which led so gloriously in eight months against
the Tartar hordes allied with Prussia. Moscow once again will subdue the
nation of the Jagiellon and the Sobieski houses. […] Thus, a noble nation,
our brother in religion and weapons, when you fought for your life, you
could only help our wishes, but now, once you fell on the scene, we can
offer you only our tears.
lamennais was also the author of sublime “Hymne à la
Pologne”, translated by Niemcewicz. Complementation of
the “Hymne” was a beautiful essay “la Pologne” of 1838
(lamennais 1970, p. 283):
In the side, which lays the sun with the long days, I saw a lot of people
scattered in a beautiful and rich land, and wherever I turned my eyes there
were gloomy faces, downcast brows, silent mouths and only the eyes —
where silent tears slipped off form — and they were still dangerous.
Chopin also shared lamennais’ position on political
hypocrisy, against which in Paroles d’un croyent warned so
(lamennais 1834, pp. 68–69):
Do not let deceive you with empty words. People will try to convince
you that you are really free, they will write for the word “freedom” on
the pieces of paper and bill them at all corners. Freedom is not a poster
48
that can be read on the street corners. It is a living power, which we
feel in ourselves and around us, the genius of home care, the guarantee
of social rights and the rights of the foremost law. The oppressor, who
hides his name, is the worst of oppressors. He combines a lie against
tyranny and injustice of the desecration, because the name of freedom
is sacred.
He would probably agree with this fragment of Esquisse
d’une philosophie (1840–1846) (lamennais 1840–1848, vol.
III, p. 127):
The beauty […] is the outer form of Truth.
However, the most important idea for lamennais —
socialist–Christian utopia — for Chopin was equally unacceptable, as any intellectual fancies as a political program.
3.1.2. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Philosopher, who Chopin knew personally in Paris and met
on several occasions (including during his stay in london),
was an American emerson (1803–1882). In a letter of August
18, 1848, Fontana asked a friend:
If you see emerson, your [scil. here: Anglo–American] famous philosopher, remind him of me.
It seems that emerson’s views coincided with what Chopin
liked — including because they corresponded to what was
in Warsaw: the distance to the dubious authority and vague
speculations, and the belief that in philosophy one can and
must rely on common sense.
emerson was associated with Chopin in many specific
ideas.
These included primarily the views on the status of artists and function of art. Here are comments on this topic
scattered in various essays of emerson.
On the status of artist emerson wrote in “Spiritual laws”
and “Self–reliance” (1841–1844/1929, s. I, pp. 184, 47, 55
and 53):
each man has his own vocation. The talent is the call. There is one
direction in which all space is open to him. He has faculties silently
inviting him thither to endless exertion. […]
To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in
your private heart is true for all men — that is genius. […]
The great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect
sweetness the independence of solitude. […]
I shun father and mother and wife and brother, when my genius
calls me.
Both emerson and Chopin, aware that creativity — a
field of dreams and imagination — requires extraordinary
focus, concentration.
Notes on the functions of art, which Chopin would sign
under, included in the essays “History” and “Art” (emerson
1841–1844/1929, s. I, pp. 22, 340 and 328):
The true poem is the poet’s mind. […]
The sweetest music is not in the oratorio, but in the human voice when
it speaks from its instant life tones of tenderness, truth, or courage. […]
The artist must employ the symbols in use in his day and nation, to
convey his enlarged sense to his fellow–men. Thus the new in art is always
formed out of the old.
Chopin and emerson had a similar belief in the purpose,
responsibilities to others and faith.
emerson wrote on destiny in his essay “History” (emerson
1841–1844/1929, s. I, p. 22):
In the man, could we lay him open, we should see the reason for the
last flourish and tendril of his work; as every spine and tint in the sea–shell
preexist in the secreting organs of the fish.
Both occupied similar positions on the two most important relationships: mercy and friendship. emerson expressed
it very eloquently in the essays “Self–reliance” and “Friendship” (emerson 1841–1844/1929, s. I, pp. 53 and 206):
Do not tell me […] of my obligation to put all poor men in good
situations. Are they my poor? […] I grudge […] [even] the cent, I give
to such men as do not belong to me [scil. as not being connected with
me] and to whom I do not belong. […]
It [scil. friendship] treats its object as a god, that it may deify both.
like emerson — Chopin was alien to the «demanding»
faith, which is based on prayer imploring. The position of
emerson was similar; in his essay “Self–reliance” he wrote
(emerson 1841–1844/1929, s. I, pp. 76–77):
Prayer is the contemplation of the facts of life from the highest point
of view. It is the soliloquy of a beholding and jubilant soul. It is the spirit
of God pronouncing his works good. But prayer as a means to effect a
private end is meanness and theft. […]
Another sort of false prayers are our regrets. Discontent is the want of
self–reliance: it is infirmity of will. […] Our sympathy is just as base.
A grief present in Chopin’s life and work — it certainly
was not bewailing for sure.
3.2. Philosophizing poets
3.2.1. Adam Mickiewicz
By strange coincidence, a kind of systematic course of the
history of philosophy was given to Chopin by a poet — Mickiewicz (1798–1855). In his lectures on Slavic literature in
the years 1841–1843, Mickiewicz has an outline of the history
of european philosophy, especially philosophy of politics
and philosophy of history from Plato — and in Poland
from Witelo — to the nineteenth century (with the relevant
49
mentions of Descartes, Kant, etc.). The lectures contained
also references to emerson, however, far from approval
(Mickiewicz, 1841–1843/1858, vol. vIII, p. 345):
emerson, American philosopher, in the religious eyes very similar to
leroux […]. […] emerson’s man has no ground under his feet, hovers
somewhere unknown at what time of day is.
Chopin — who appreciated Mickiewicz very much and
admired his work — probably with particular attention listened to what Mickiewicz said in these lectures on patriotism
and Polish affairs.
He heard e.g. about the place of patriotism in the world
view of the Poles (Mickiewicz 1841–1843/1858, vol. vI, p.
22), their concept of homeland (1841–1843/1858, vol. vI,
p. 23) and the importance of national institutions (1841–
1843/1858, vol. vIII, p. 348):
In Poles patriotism is the main tenet of the entire spiritual and intellectual education. […]
Homeland of Poles lives and works wherever their sons hearts faithfully beat. […]
like religious rites dispose us to an easier feeling, and taking the truth,
like national institutions are nothing but a collection of the data supported
to a man so that he could easily replace the feeling into action.
He either heard about that what — according to Mickiewicz — distinguishes the Poles negatively and positively:
their innate envy on one hand (1841–1843/1858, vol. vII,
p. 59) — and love of personal freedom on the other hand
(1841–1843/1858, vol. vIII, p. 46):
Here’s how [Długosz] outlines the national character of [the Poles],
with his excellent knowledge of: “every nation has its own qualities and
defects, which could be called national. Poles are especially prone to envy,
derision and kicking around.” […]
50
Well […] was there in Poland […] veto? How to reconcile it with the
durability of the society? It is known that, according to philosophers, the
society is the result of the general consensus of its members, whereby each
of them renounces a part of personal rights in favor of a general. […]
According to them [scil. Polish ideas] every person who is part of a whole
political being, never ceases to use its rights and should always come out
of society: personal freedom is raised to the supreme end.
From Mickiewicz Chopin learned that the tradition of
proper thinking — we would say today: of analytic philosophy — goes back in Polish philosophy to renaissance, i.e.
the time of Grzegorz of Sanok (c. 1407–1477) (Mickiewicz,
1841–1843/1858, vol. vII, p. 102) and Jan of Głogów (1445–
1507) (Mickiewicz, 1841–1843/1858, vol. vII, p. 103):
Among the scholars […] of [Jagiellonian] era we mention here Grzegorz of Sanok […]. This man was a rare genius; at the time when the
scholastic philosophy of reversing all the heads, he penetrated its vanity;
dialectics, fencing with syllogisms, all this wisdom arranged only with
words, he called openly the “dreaming awake”; [… ] advised to draw a
real skill in its natural sources; […] entered […] on the path of critical
analysis. […]
Pride […] of the Cracow Academy was [in those days] a famous
scholar, Jan of Głogów; […] according to the custom he dealt more specifically with Aristotelian philosophy; however it seems he was seeking
new ways to exit from the arid scholastic intricacies.
On foreign thinkers Mickiewicz looked largely through
the prism of their attitude to Poland — hence his very critical
remarks on Montesquieu (1689–1755), voltaire (1694–1778),
Gibbon (1737–1794), Saint–Simon (1760–1725) and Fourier
(1772–1837) (Mickiewicz, 1841–1843/1860, vol. II, pp.
288–289, 292–293):
Philosophers, standing […] [in the era of partitions of Poland] leading
the european movement, representatives of materialist philosophy, […]
violently and maliciously insisted on Poland. The most famous among
them voltaire, falsified history to justify the partition of Poland […]. Gibbon […] could be […] cited as a devotee of Mongol [scil. Moskal] system.
[…] Montesquieu […] shows for […] [Poland] no liking. […]
[There are] philosophies [holding] the measure between Catholicism and
materialism […]. let’s mention here, for example, Saint–Simonians. Saint
Simon’s students did not accept the nationality, but their main representatives
praise russia as the representative of power, in the hope that when this force
can convert all of its subordinate people would come under the management
of Saint–Simonism. Fourierists, who also reject any thought of national and
historical, and want to establish a new society, set up the Slavs.
Hence — on the other hand — the conditional expression of appreciation for Maistre (1753–1821) (Mickiewicz,
1841–1843/1858, vol. vII, p. 314):
Among Catholic philosophers one of the people who thought deeply
was Joseph de Maistre; he has seen clearly the injustice suffered by Poland;
he calls nations talking on its history a dark ones; however, as a French
emigrant, as a legitimist, and that the russian empire was based only on
legitimism, he had nothing for Poland but irritating complaining. […] For
some universal instinct, by a peculiar train, every philosophical system
is being rotated to the North.
In his lectures, Mickiewicz especially devoted much space
to the nineteenth–century German philosophy, especially
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (and — not quite correctly —
his Polish followers, i.e. Trentowski and August Cieszkowski),
and he was highly critical (Mickiewicz, 1841–1843/1858,
vol. vII, pp. 311–312):
The system, which survived the others […] was put by Hegel. We
will consider only a political part, trying to express just the main idea of
the author, tangled in the dark and difficult expressions giving a guess.
[…] According to Hegel, […] there is no other God but the human
person. […]
We’re not quite turned into the ridiculous things. […] [However,] the
ideas of Hegel it is the most perfect state, under which the Deity might
be present, is the kingdom of Prussia.
The metaphysical issues in the narrower sense was not
much in the Mickiewicz’s lectures. The most important may
have been mention of the criterion of certainty (Mickiewicz,
1841–1843/1858, vol. vIII, p. 340):
What’s the criterion of certainty philosophers considered? This is what
can give a man a definitive conviction that this or that feeling is adequate,
this or that judgement is true? Without this certainty, without this belief
there is no action; and we should talk about applying philosophy to life.
Chopin certainly was interested in ideas of Mickiewicz for
an aesthetic — particularly his views on music (Mickiewicz,
1841–1843/1858, vol. vIII, pp. 73, 71–72):
Without the music […] there is no true lyrical poetry. […]
What is […] [because] lyric poetry without a lyre? What are those
poets who, like singers, not only compose music for their songs, but they
did not quite hear it themselves? Music in the works of lyrical it is not
accompaniment, but the main, important part of poetry; it is its soul, life
and light. you just prove the validity of national music, singing nation.
We see now the reason why, in countries where people no longer sing,
poets must stop to create true poetry. What is the national music then?
Here people’s songs are born in a momentary feelings of people, often
very mundane but reliable excited by inspiration, the many scattered
tones or themes, and provide a set of national music. Whence comes this
musical inspiration? rightly, these tones separately, coming out suddenly
and unexpectedly from his breast inspired, called “motifs”. Motivum is
something that sets in motion, gives the impulse; it is the element of
movement. […] Sometimes, even very educated musicians are very poor
in the motives; they look for them at the door of inns or listen to rural
violinist. Slavic people have a huge treasure of these motives still unknown
and unused by the composers.
51
3.2.2. Cyprian Kamil Norwid
The second philosophizing poet — with whom Chopin
encountered only in the last years of his life — was Norwid
(1821–1883).
Norwid expressed his beliefs implicite and not very communicative — not surprising, therefore, a provision against
Norwid of sober in these matters Chopin, who wrote the
Delfina Potocka with his characteristic humor (Chopin
1949, pp. 306–308):
Certainly it was easier for bears of radziwiłł3 to dance, than me to
write me to Norwid. I write alone, as you know, straight up and ask him
to teach me what he meant. But it is a natural born philosopher, melting
everything in the philosophic sauce for you cannot understand what he
is doing or saying. Who can understand it enough to be able to talk with
him? This is the third philosopher, who appeared in our time in the Polish nation; I am glad that instead of worrying that my brain is far from
understanding the philosophers. […]
With his philosophy you won’t go to the tracks [scil. no time to catch
it] and perhaps I am too stupid to dig the foundation of his thought.
It didn’t bother, however, in making an ultimately strong
spiritual ties between the two artists; it also didn’t prevent
them against appreciating very much each other.
Chopin valued Norwid, because when he “finished digging” — as the result of long discussions with Norwid — “to
the foundation of his thought”, there were true romantic
elements, but with the character not messianic, but if not
intellectual, then at least emotional–aesthetic. And such an
intellectual and also emotional and aesthetic relationship
to reality, were characteristic both to Norwid and Chopin
(Tatarkiewicz 1963, p. 737).
3
Prince K. radziwiłł (1734–1790), called from his characteristic
saying the “lover lord”, had a soft spot for these animals: he was using
specially trained bears serving in his palace on sumptuous feasts, and as
riding guests also over his estate.
52
Norwid wrote about Chopin’s work in 1850, and so after
his death, in Promethidion (Norwid 1971–1976, vol. III,
pp. 661–662):
lifting the folk inspiration to the power of permeating, lifting the folk
to the mankind not by external means or formal procedures, but by the
internal development of maturity — this is what gives us listening to the
music of Frederick as singing on national art. Thoughts that have not yet
flew on the horizon, wings rustling away like aeolian harps — and this is a
prophet of music. […] national artist organizes an imagination.
In poland from the grave of Frederick Chopin art will develop as a
morning glory wreath, through the concept a bit more scrupulous about
life forms, about a beautiful direction, and about the content of life,
about the direction of goodness and truth.
Artistry then will transform to the entire national art.
The last sentence Norwid affixed with such a self–commentary (1971–1976, vol. III, p. 662):
long, long time I was thinking and looking for, where is the nearest
harbor for Polish art, the child of inspirations, the mother of works, that
moment of resting. I have found that a feeling of harmony between
content and form will beat us the job of art. I have found that art solely
focused on the harmony of content and form and on romanticism (this
means content) leads to a clean first with a bayonet the social form,
because art is the highest heroism!
As you can see — allegations of unnecessary complexity
of style, posed by Chopin to Norwid, were the righteous.
Couldn’t Norwid catch the content of his thought in simpler
words: that Chopin’s merit is introduction of the elements of
of Polish folk music to the culture of the entire world — not
by pushing it into the framework of existing structures, but
through the development of its original internal form?
part ii
personality
Chapter IV. Person
well, however, not in the nose, because then it would be even greater
than now.
In a letter of July 8, 1825, to Białobłocki, he wrote:
examen close, […] already under my nose (past the Poles said under
belt, as for I do not wear a belt […], only a big nose, so now you have a
clear reason for which I write that examen are under my nose).
1. Appearance
The average heigth (170 cm) — hence probably Chopin was
called familiarly by Mrs. Sand “my little”; slim constitution,
slender, brittle (“consumptive”), shoulders slightly raised
(“the way the Polish militaries do”, as noted by Georges
Mathias; Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 389); the end of
his life hunched over, his head forward, his face elongated,
oval, pale complexion, clear, his hair was brushed back, curly,
lush, bright, a shade golden–brown with reddish highlights;
eyebrows and beard also clear, high forehead, cheeks slightly
sunken, blue–gray eyes with hazel flecks, a prominent nose,
hooked, mouth small, rounded jaw, hands (with the “fourth
finger unpracticed”) and small feet. Adding: the sophisticated
movements, wise look, sometimes humorous, sometimes
soulful and dreamy (“melancholic”), a nice smile, the voice
of a liquid, usually mild, quiet, muffled.
On one detail of beauty — prominent nose — Chopin
had a complex, as it seems, although he covered it with the
jokes. In a letter of August 19, 1824, to Wilhelm Kolberg,
he wrote:
NB. The «nassal» issue tortured him for life. In a letter of
August 18, 1848, to Fontana, he wrote:
What I have left is a big nose and fourth finger unpracticed.
Thus, the appearance of Chopin can be reconstructed on
the basis of certificates of his writing and painting.
From written certification — the most important are:
the French description of a passport from 1837 (Sikorski–
Mysłakowski 2000, pp. 37–38), the characteristics given
in the Kurier Warszawski [The Warsaw Courier] No. 288
of October 31, 1849, and much later description of liszt
(1852/1960, p. 102).
As the most “hit” painting certificate thought — during
the life of Chopin — the portraits of two medallions: a common with Ferdinand Hiller in 1835, of unknown authorship,
and the Chopin himself in 1837, by Jean–François Antoine
Bovy — and from lithographs of Polish Bank, compiled
by Paweł Bolesław Podczaszyński from drawings taken by
Kwiatkowski at the time of Chopin’s death, which reported
Kurier Warszawski No. 331 of December 15, 1849.
Flies often sit on my haughty nose.
Kurier Szafarski of August 27, 1824, reported:
Mr. Pichon [scil. Chopin] suffers great distress because of the cousins
[scil. mosquitoes], which lots are in Szafarnia found. They can bite as
2. Health
Chopin was sickly since childhood.
But it was after his departure from country when his
health has deteriorated markedly — so that Hector Berlioz
could say not without a reason that Chopin was “entire life
55
dying” (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 16) — except: he meant the
whole life spent outside the homeland. He was often cold
— then began to spit blood.
Different doctors put up different diagnosis for the disease,
which led to his untimely death: mostly it was tuberculosis
and the chronic disease of the larynx. Grzymała wrote that
after the autopsy, which was made at the request of the
Chopins, “they convinced that he wasn’t ill with what they
thought he was”. His nephew, Antoni Jędrzejewicz, argued
that Chopin “died in a result of heart aneurysm”.
His attitude to his own illness was strange. We can understand the great role played in the life of Chopin by the battle
with the disease, noting, inter alia, number of observations
of health, enshrined in the preserved correspondence. From
early youth he felt on his back «the breath of death». At least
since the death of his sister emilia he had to know that his
life may actually be over at any time. He wrote in a letter of
December 12–26, 1845, to his family:
Typically, the more healthy you are, the less patience you have in
physical suffering. There is no cure in whole world for this — even your
mind can do nothing.
About the doctors and their practices he sometimes
expressed with reluctance and even undisguised irony.
In a letter to Fontana of December 3, 1838, he confided
annoyed:
I barely restrained [doctors] from bleeding me, using local drugs
or scarifying, and thanks to Providence, my condition is such as in the
past it was.
I suffocates and cough, only it is easier to endure for me. I haven’t
started to play yet — I cannot compose — I do not know what hay I
will eat soon.
In turn in a letter of December 3, 1838, to Fontana, he
ironized:
I was ill for past two weeks as a dog: although caught a cold despite
of 18–degree heat outside, roses, orange, palms and figues. Three doctors
most famous throughout the island studied me: one sniffed what I spat,
another tapped where I sapt from, and the last one touched and listened
to my spitting. One said, I was already dead, the other — that I was dying,
the third one — that I would die.
everybody underlined his patience in the face of disease,
although the torment — with a strong cough and increasing difficulty in breathing — gradually lead to a complete
discouragement. The most paralyzing him was the physical
weakness. He confided to Delacroix that lack of activity was
hardest (Delacroix 1932, vol. I, p. 288: record of April 14,
1849):
Boredom is the cruelest torment for him. I asked him if he did not
know before this unbearable feeling of emptiness that I experience often.
He said that he could always find something to do. even the smallest
activity fills time and disperses fumes. What else worries.
He waited to die, while he had some phobias, probably
associated with this. He told several times (with the vague
intention) of death in the hospital — first in a letter of August
9/10, 1841, to Fontana, and after years in a letter of October
30, 1848, to Grzymała:
In a letter of June 18, 1849, to Grzymała, he wrote:
I almost don’t go away, but sometimes to the Bois de Boulogne
— I’m stronger, because more food eaten and medicines rejected, but
56
Once I dreamed that I died in a hospital, and so I stuck it in my
head that it seems to me that the dream was yesterday. If you survive, you
will know if you should believe in dreams or not. […]
I can die in a hospital, but at least I won’t leave behind a wife without
bread. Moreover, unnecessary I write you all this because you know that
I think this…
Shortly before his death he had to say (Sydow (ed.) 1955,
vol. II, p. 460):
When the cough choke me, I beg you, open my body that I won’t
ever be buried alive.
When during his stay in england he had a big accident
— he wrote in a letter of September 4–9, 1848, to Grzymała,
that the vision of a handicap would be for him not to lift:
I must admit that I saw quietly my last hour, but the thought of
broken legs and hands scared me very much. I need no handicap in
addition to it all.
3. Manner
Chopin divided his time mainly between a rich social life,
very comprehensive work and extensive teaching duties,
about which he wrote in the letter of October 11, 1846, to
the family:
Soon you have to think about the mill, I mean the lessons.
“The mill” was something that has become a necessity
only in Paris, because piano lessons for girls from wealthy
homes were the primary source of income. However, the
habit — during some periods almost every day — of sitting,
music–making and «partying» he brought from Poland,
where he also was not averse from universal in the Polish
aristocratic homes hunting (for example, he participated in
huntings in the estate of Prince radziwiłł at Antonin). In his
youth he was a bit of a habit «in spite of himself». In a letter
of September 4, 1830, to Woyciechowski, he wrote:
As on one hand I consider social relationships the most sacred thing,
just on the other hand I maintain that they are the devil’s invention, and it
would be better that people in the world did not know the money, desserts,
shoes, hats, beefsteaks, pancakes, etc., and how people also call it.
Over time, this habit became an obsession, affecting its
destructive influence on organism. Neither Woyciechowski’s
friendly reminds in Warsaw did not help, nor warnings of
Paris friends did: Mickiewicz’s delicate and later Mrs. Sand’s
less delicate.
Further it get more complicated by the matter that he was
characterized by a rare thing in environments in which he
lived: not absorbing others with his personal matters, «tuning
in» to the expectations of partners and total discretion. As
liszt wrote (1852/1879, p. 176):
In the social relationships and conversations he always seemed to be
interested only in what others care.
This attitude — free of conversational narcissism and
social gossip — Chopin held consciously, especially towards
his friends. In a letter of August 31, 1830, to Woyciechowski,
he wrote:
I am glad that in my heart has been drowned a secret that in me there
is the end of what you are just the beginning. enjoy that I have a gap,
in which you can throw everything without a fear, as to the second you,
because your spirit since long time ago lies there at the very bottom.
The social attractiveness of Chopin was increased by the
ease of making friends, elegant language flirting revealed
in “chasing rainbow” combined with the ability to win over
the recognition in the sedate gentlemen, and even worship
of exalted ladies.
Not only he was still looking for social contacts, but he
was in the circles of the aristocracy and plutocracy welcome;
57
what’s more — these environments were quite anxious about
his presence in the showrooms. He was said to be — and
indeed he was — an “idol” or “spoiled child” of showrooms
or “darling of princesses”.
Not without significance here were his exquisite manners.
liszt wrote (1852/1879, p. 177):
Manner [of Chopin was] characterized with so aristocratic refinement,
that involuntarily he was treated like he’d be prince.
Moreover, it exposed him frequently to the torture companionship of people of mediocre minds and coarse way of
being. For example, he complained in a letter of the summer,
1837, to Grzymała:
I have had a musical lunch from which I cannot escape in spite of
all my ability to slip through the hands.
On prolonging parties he could not so often escape from
his glass and reluctant to him Juliusz Słowacki could write
about one of these parties to his mother in a letter of September 3, 1932 (Sydow (ed.) 1955, vol. I, p. 217):
In this evening we were boring to death from 10 pm to 2 am — in the
end, however, Chopin got drunk and lovely improvised on the piano.
Not as much innate as taken from home charm (according to Mrs. Sand it was held by Chopin “habitually”)
and natural refinement he was able to complement with an
elegant dress.
emilia Hoffmannowa noted in her Wspomnienia [Memoirs] not without a reproach (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957,
p. 419):
living almost exclusively among the highest social circles, he has
imperious habits.
58
It is worth adding that to himself he basically invited only
the representatives of «the aristocracy of the spirit». We read
in liszt (1852/1879, p. 143):
Most prominent minds of Paris met in the lounge of Chopin.
This consumptive lifestyle was interrupted before the
critical phase of the disease. As liszt wrote (1852/1879, p.
200):
Withdrawing […] from the whirl of social life, Chopin lived his joys
and sorrows within the circle of family and friends of his youth.
Chapter V. Mentality
let’s assume for simplicity that the mentality of a man is
described by his abilities (intellectual, volitional and inventional), dispositions and inclinations. If we’d try to briefly and
clearly define those elements in Chopin’s mind, we could say
that he was extremely multilateral capacity, highly sensitive
temperament and an exceptionally expressive inclinations. In
a word — he was a man of exceptional mind. The uniqueness
of this was also in the fact, that Chopin developed mentally
very quickly and therefore occurred very early the crystallization of his volatile mind, vivid imagination and strong
will, and sensitive emotions and expressive inclinations.
1. Abilities
As Tadeusz Kotarbiński aptly noted (1960, p. 392):
No systematic effort to work, even organized in the wisest way, is not
able to meet the genius gift.
Chopin was above all extraordinary musical talents —
but beyond that he was also gifted in linguistics, acting and
painting.
1.1. Linguistic talent
1.1.1. Children’s experiences
Chopin in childhood showed a tendency to write poetry — and
one must admit that his childish were all successful attempts.
Kazimierz Władysław Wójcicki had in his hands one of such
attempts — in the form of playful poem, let’s call it “The ball
at colonel’s wife”, counting 42 verses (each with four six–and
eight–syllable lines), with several woven French inserts in the
text. This poem tells how its fourteen–year–old author was
invited with his parents to the friendly colonel’s wife’s birthday,
and not having the appropriate shoes, he bought them in one of
the stalls (or shops) with shoes. On the spot, in the salon, they
find already very tired colonel’s wife, playing pantalion (which
is something between a piano and xylophone). Frederick offers
to help lady who after some resistance allows him to play.
After a long played dancing — the author starts dancing.
After the cotillion waltz and quadrille — at the mazur he
unfortunately slipped and fell. To the victim a doctor was
called, but by mistake — came just a hairdresser. Unfortunately, the effect of the fall turns out to be a broken leg.
The whole is cleverly written, imaginatively and with
great sense of humor.
1.1.2. Language sensitivity
Chopin not only knew the language, but also “ruled” it. He
used Polish language perfectly spontaneously, but often —
using it — watched the functions of this tool. In his letters
we find a number of «critical analysis» of used words and
phrases. Here’s an example from a letter of September 18,
1830, to Woyciechowski:
Divine languages! What unfortunate phrase, as the divine navel or
divine liver is a terribly ugly.
There are many funny neologisms or language jokes in
letters. In a letter of August 8, 1829, to his family, he wrote
for example:
I do not know what it is, but the Germans are surprised with me, and
I am surprised with them that they have something to be surprised of.
59
There were two great sources of linguistic skills and sensitivity in Chopin.
One source has been associated with the French origin
of Mikołaj Chopin: bilingualism of his father certainly had
influence for that Frederick since childhood knew the importance of language as a tool of communication.
The second source was the presence in his close surrounding
of linde — an outstanding philologist and lexicographer, whose
sense of meaning necessarily had to be extraordinary. linde,
moreover, wrote in the “Preface” to his Słownik języka polskiego
[Dictionary of Polish Language] (1807–1815, vol. I, p. I):
It seems that particularly in this area he was lazy and it
can be testified with this strange excuses, which he wanted
to hide his laziness with, against his familiars and — against
himself. In a letter to the family written between March 29
and April 19, 1847, he confessed:
Dearest loves! If I don’t respond right now, then it is difficult to do it
and conscience pushes out of paper instead of pushing in.
earlier — in a letter of April 23, 1840, to Fontana, he wrote:
I love you, but you know I cannot write.
Human speech, the supreme interpreter of human perceptions and
feelings […] is in some way one; because it is planted on the same regulations of reasoning, corresponding to the nature of things, under the
equal way of thinking, the human heart and feelings. […] everyone has
his own peculiar way of thinking, as far as his imagination; but each man
undoubtedly has a general regulation of reasoning which, being a matrix
of logic and philosophy, is the soul of both, all disciplines and skills.
He similarly wrote in a letter of September 4, 1848, to
Grzymała:
Forgive me all the scribbling: you know how painful is for me sometimes to write: my pen is burning under my finger, hair fall from my head
and I cannot write what I wanted, only one thousand of unnecessary
things.
And later he confessed (linde 1807–1815, vol. I, p. xIv):
I will not stop congratulating myself if my work will help to invigorate the
national spirit, to give glory to its precious jewel, the mother language.
Common Chopin’s complaining that he has difficulty
with writing — was just an excuse: indeed probably he just
did not like to write letters. In a letter of July 27, 1825, to
Białobłocki, he frankly confessed:
See you soon; you know I do not like to scribble a lot, except for 4
hands.
This is evidenced also by frequent complaints of his family
and the equally frequent apologies from Chopin that he was
“again” silent for a long time.
60
In fact — his pen was great.
His language was the highest quality Polish language: rich
vocabulary with striking accuracy of the selection of words
and phraseological compounds was capable to reveal the
finest nuances of thought. This was in the Polish language
— which is only ex post to say — very modern. When we
read his letters today, we are impressed that it is written
very contemporary to us, with an elegant Polish language
of the Warsaw intelligence — much more advanced than
Polish language of many writers in the second half of the
nineteenth century.
Here are just a few illustrative bon–mots by Chopin:
About himself in the letters sequentially — of December
26, 1830, to Woyciechowski, of August 9/10, 1841, to Fontana, and of November 9, 1846, to August Franchomme:
In the salon I go quiet, and when I’m back I’m thundering on piano.
[…]
What else I dreamed, but something else came true. […] And now I’m
dreaming awaken; some rigmaroles; so I write such nonsense to you. […]
I work a little bit. Draw a lot. Cough enough.
For nothing would be pleading with my silence. If wish all my thoughts
could move themselves to the post office, without putting them on the
paper!
About Paris opera artists in a letter of April 15, 1832, to
Józef Nowakowski:
It is worth noting again that the letters by Chopin — at
least these which remained (and it must be remembered
that there are many lost ones we know that existed — but
they were burnt by Chopin or disappeared under mysterious
circumstances) — concerned cases of ordinary everyday,
giving the impression of hasty notes made with the current
observations and rarely were compact as pieces written by
masters of «saint» epistolary art. Chopin, however, from
time to time, aspirated to practice such art. For example, he
wrote in a letter of July 8, 1825, to Białobłocki:
you will learn those divas close, which are the smaller the closer you
come to them.
This letter is like a box with duke’s mixture. There is no consistency
of…
About Sigismund Thalberg in a letter of December 26,
1830, to Matuszyński:
1.1.3. Foreign languages
Among the foreign languages, which Chopin ruled, for
obvious reasons French was closest to him — that is the
language of his father. He ruled it well, but he could tell as
Mickiewicz about his French (Mickiewicz, 1841–1843/1858,
vol. vI, p. 1):
About citizens of vienna in a letter of January 29, 1831,
to elsner:
They call here waltzes the “works”! And Strauss and lanner, who play
to dance for them — they call the “conductors”!
Plays great, but he is not my man.
About Clara Wieck (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 70):
The only woman in Germany who can play my pieces.
About his love for Maria Wodzińska — like her brother,
Antoni, reported in a letter of October, 1835, to his mother,
Teresa Wodzińska (Sydow (ed.) 1955, vol. I, p. 266):
I am a foreigner and I have to use a language that has nothing to do
with the one, which simply serves as a tool of my thoughts.
No wonder that his contemporaries recorded this state
of affairs. Hiller, a pianist and a great friend of Chopin, for
example, wrote (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 245):
Say there that I love all of them terribly, so terribly much.
Another thing is that Chopin wasn’t satisfied with
this. He wrote in a letter of September 14–18, 1833, to
Franchomme:
He understood [French] […] in subtle shades, but he did not say
[…] quite smoothly, more searching than finding, expressions of his
shrewd observations and insights. […] He [also] never could write well
in French.
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liszt added (liszt 1852/1879, p. 203):
The language of French he ruled over very well […]. However, he mentioned the French was not for him; he alleged the lack of voicing sounds
and the internal heat. […] French words — according to the presumption
of Chopin’s compatriots — had no dignity or passion or grace [a lot of
Polish words they considered as untranslatable to French].
Chopin complained himself to Mrs. Sand and her daughter Solange — after almost twenty years of daily conversations
in French in Paris — that he often lacked the appropriate
words in this language to express what he would like to
express, and that in order to avoid the errors of language
he must looked up the dictionary. In a letter of August 14,
1843, he wrote to Mrs. Sand:
Tomorrow, if you allow, I will write you again. […] Bouli [scil.
Maurice Dudevant], I embrace you warmly. (I choose only these words
that I know how to spell.)
In a letter in the autumn of 1845, to Marie de roziérs,
he apologized:
I am writing to you without any dictionary.
Similarly, in the letters of October 2, and November 24,
1847, to Solange:
Please shake hands with your husband in behalf of me and improve
my French, as in the past. […]
I suffocate and have a headache, so I apologize you for my corrections
and French.
He also knew German language — reportedly as much as
the French. About english language — during his stay in Great
Britain — he wrote in a letter of August 19, 1848, to his family:
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I do not know, and have no time nor the inclination to learn.
1.2. Acting talent
All those who personally knew Chopin, stress that he had a
great acting talent. It manifested itself in childhood and early
youth directly — as Chopin often participated as an actor in
various theater productions; for his whole life it manifested
itself in the ability to imitate, and especially parody (we need
to add it was just great) — other people.
We cannot associate with Chopin acting directly — as
we read his scores and correspondence. So let’s mention at
least the most comprehensive report on the subject, which
comes from the time of his contemporaries. Here is what
Wójcicki wrote about it in Cmentarz Powązkowski [Powązki
Cemetery] (1858, vol. II, pp. 18–19):
In 1828, after death of his sister emilia, the home theater at [Marianna]
Pruszakowa’s shows a versed comedy by l. A. Dmuszewski titled Barbara
Zapolska. Actors were learnt how to play by the outstanding artist Piasecki
who was also the teleprompter himself during the performance. Frederick
played the role of Baltazar, Prince Ostrogski’s hat check, and his younger
sister, Izabela, played Maryna, confidante of Countess Barbara Zapolska. In
the last scene of act I, when he greets with Maryna, Frederick, who counting on his memory was too lazy to learn the script, after the termination
of the first note forgot the role, watching in vain to the prompter’s help.
Meanwhile, Piasecki busy with his character, which has changed much, and
with excellent play, forgot to keep the words and prompt. Chopin, seeing
that he is abandoned by him, did not lose his consciousness and began to
improvise. His sister was waiting for the last words of his role to answer
him, but in vain. Finally, Piasecki noticed that, prompt the text and act I
ends. Audience even did not notice that, because Frederick bamboozled
them with his face, boldness and appropriate improvisation. […]
A great French dramatic artist Hervé was in Warsaw then. When in
the home theater was played some French piece, Frederick chose the same
role that Hervé played earlier himself. The French actor just watched him
playing and later he shook the young man with enthusiasm and admitted
that Frederick had a great dramatic talent. He played especially great in the
scene when, speaking of the rich man, which was the master tailor, his little
fingers on the incomparable mime imitated dissecting scissors. […]
As in the roles played on home theaters he changed his character
beyond recognition, so this gift remained home during the meetings,
and in Paris in an even higher level, without using any props for this
change. There was in Warsaw an evangelical pastor, Tetzner, who declaimed Polish homilies every other Sunday. Not knowing how to speak
Polish well, he was breaking the language. Frederick, before traveling
abroad, dressed in red wig, imitated him with such truth and comedy,
saying those homilies half Polish half German, that the audience rolled
on the floor laughing.
When Chopin was visited in Paris by honorably known in the musician world Józef Nowakowski and asked by him to meet with the famous
liszt and Pixis, Frederick said to him “Wait, I’ll show you both, but each
individual”. And then he played liszt first, sitting and playing piano
such as liszt, then presenting Pixis. It must have been a great similarity,
when the next day in the theater Nowakowski, when temporarily left by
Chopin was close to the person sitting before him and taking Pixis by
pretending him Frederick, struck on the shoulder and said “No! Give
a break, do not pretend here”. A stranger greeted too familiarly, Pixis
himself, jumped up in anger. Fortunately, Chopin came back soon and
explained this mistake, and our artist apologizing met at once with the
one who he wanted to approach. […]
endowed with a special taste, according to the selected word, he
composed Polish and French charades with two or three images of living
people. Having no other gear close at hand as the ordinary household
ones, he was laying these images so picturesque and decorative, that the
applause aroused.
Chopin’s acting ability is confirmed, inter alia, by Niemcewicz, who mentioned his stay in Mariánské lázně in 1836
this way (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 73):
Chopin — one of the first pianists in europe, cheerful, funny, knows
how to mimic everyone entertained us very well.
1.3. Painting talent
Chopin also had considerable artistic talent in drawings. His
teacher was no one else but a prominent Polish painter, Zygmunt vogel — a pupil of Bernardo Bellotto (Canaletto).
The drawing capabilities of Chopin show his first preserved landscapes in pencil and unfortunately there are few,
they are not dated and we do not know whether they are
drawings from nature — or whether painted fantasies.
Secondly — remained a successful portrait of linde,
which Chopin drew in a notebook during one school lesson; linde, in whose hands fell that notebook, saw the portrait and indicated it with a jocular remark: “Well–painted
notebook”.
Thirdly — in the lyceum lessons of Polish history, in
which there were names like “Długosz”, “Kadłubek” or
“laskonogi”, Frederick drew their funny cartoons, referring
to the etymological meaning of those names (“Długosz”
— “somebody who is long”, “Kadłubek” — “a little trunk”,
“laskonogi” — “somebody with long, thin legs”). A few
cartoons from that period survived, but it must be clear that
the caricatures were not the best — perhaps indeed because
they were occasional and cartoons were drawn in haste.
2. Disposition
Chopin! Unique soul, charming mind, happy in the moments when
physical suffering allowed him to rest a little. Innate refinement, excellent
manners. The genius of sublime and melancholy! Integrity, impeccable
integrity, sophisticated delicacy. Modesty full of moderation, selflessness,
generosity, unwavering devotion. […]
His character was formed by disease. Cheerful, friendly, animated,
when he did not suffer too much. Melancholic and discouraged when
fell because of impotence. like his music, he was sensitive and passionate. Betrayed oddities, unexplained bias, unseen, but dislikes stubborn,
sometimes again — love that does not leave him for a lifetime. When he
had time to engage, he never retreated in fact. […] Tactfully, with unerring
intuition rarely able to distinguish true friends from the villains who seek
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benefits. […] We must admit that the understanding never failed him.
While to the real and genuine concerns he showed kindness, compassion,
willingness to help, he was difficult to deceive him tears or pretense. very
polite, he had attacks of coughing, which allowed him to escape when
the salon was entered by an unpleasant person.
This way Chopin was recalled by Solange in 1895
(eigeldinger 1978, pp. 226–228).
everything we know about Chopin, moreover — matches
the vision of duty.
Disposition of a person is such a complex conglomerate of
psychic phenomena, a vision that it’s easier than using a structured description impassive, «objective» tools of language.
This is due, inter alia, that the individual layers of disposition — temperament, emotional sphere, volitional sphere,
and (let us call it so) style — overlap each other and the
neighboring areas of the psyche, and that the grid concept,
which is to describe these phenomena, we have, is very rich
but also in a large part semantically under–determined.
In particular, it is difficult to describe the disposition of
Chopin. liszt noticed this, writing (liszt 1852/1879, p. 175):
His personality draws mistly, like bluish haze had obscured, elusive
for the cool analysis.
There are following reasons of this.
Well, different people in different ways evaluate the disposition of Chopin. Probably some of them are confused, but
in most cases the difference takes the fact that these people
raised to the rank of a momentary mood disposition of the
various phases of his life — or the same phases, but with
different moments and in different circumstances, external
engagement. Meanwhile, Chopin’s disposition in some of
its ingredients — like in many people — was subject to
the distinct evolution of his life and his feelings in some
respects have been changing depending on the different,
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often difficult to accurately capture the factors. Chopin
remarked that himself. Apt is in this case a note by Jan
Kleczyński (1879, p. 25):
Another is man in his everyday matters, another one when upon the
ray of divine inspiration.
Although liszt claimed (1852/1879, p. 177):
everything in him was harmonious.
However, probably Mrs. Sand was right, writing about
Chopin (Sand 1855, vol. xIII, p. 127):
He was a wonderful condensate, ruling its own logic of inconsistencies.
We must therefore accept the fact that it is impossible to
determine the disposition of certain parties in the manner
of Chopin in «monochrome» way: it was simply a heterogeneous and we can — and should — say that it ranged
between often very distant from each pole. In the case of
positive poles they were — we’d like to say — not extremes,
but excellences. Mrs. Sand noted this and was seeking in
this a tragic fatality. She wrote in a letter of April 23, 1839,
to Charlotte Marliani (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 84):
His kindness, patience and sensitivity concern. […] He’s a being too
subtle, too unusual and too perfect to live a long time.
Some attributed the origin of his duality. Kleczyński for
example wrote (1879, pp. 6 and 20);
Born of a French father and a Polish mother, Frederick Chopin had a
lot of both nationalities. Naturally gifted with a sensitive disposition, deep
and sensitive, willing to dream and sorrow, but he also had uncommon
liveliness of mind and wit. These two opposing factors directly merged
in his essence in a wonderful harmony and stressed it sequentially, in
life and in works. […]
Two elements: the Slavic melancholy and dolefulness — and French
vivacity and cheerfulness, made up the spiritual essence of Chopin.
thousand francs for him, he confessed in a letter of July 28,
1849, to Grzymała:
Maybe it was true, but how mazurkas — some wistful,
some smiling, some happy — not only alluded to the homely
kuyaviaks, mazurs and obereks? Perhaps it is rather that in his
mind constantly clashed two elements: male and female.
Anyway — it is impossible today to determine the actual
origin of the «music» of his soul…
However, in matter of «supernatural» he was rather a
dreamy nature. Skrodzki just mentioned the year 1823, spent
in the company of Frederick (O Chopinie 2010, p. 41):
2.1. Temperament
Chopin confided himself that he often was able to dream,
when — as he wrote in a letter of August 18, 1848, to Fontana — “no sound in my head I do have”. In the same letter
he wrote:
2.1.1. Sobriety or dreamness
In matters of «life» proper for Chopin was responsible,
careful, a bit suspicious — «Warsaw» (as though some may
say) — sobriety (see Iwaszkiewicz 1955, p. 10). As rightly
pointed out ryszard Przybylski (Hellman & Skowron &
Wróblewska–Straus (ed.) 2009, p. 19):
Sobriety of his mind is as captivating as a poetic flight of his musical
genius.
This sobriety made he distanced himself — with humor
— from fashion to mesmerism. In his letter of August 15,
1848, to Camille Pleyel, he joked with the «ghosts»:
Now I believe in magnetism.
More than once I heard him humming for himself during his lonely
walks in the garden.
I dream of a home, of rome, of happiness, of a dinner.
2.1.2. Cheerfulness or grief
Both cheerfulness and grief tend to have different shades.
With these different shades of cheerfulness — and
especially grief — Chopin seemed well self aware (liszt
1852/1879, p. 24):
Nothing here [scil. in a Scottish castle, where he stayed then] lacks
— there is even a red cap, which is supposedly haunted. After all,
what happened on the continent, I believe that the spirit deals with the
headgear — and would be disgraced, if someone had taken him for one
of your demons — as nobody had seen him for some time.
[He said] he got fleeting moments of carefree joy, but he never
was freed from the feeling which is proper ground of his heart, and
for which the term is merely in his mother tongue, because no other
language has the equivalent of Polish word “żal”; the word was repeated
several times, as if his ear could not be satisfied by the sound of the
word, coming a whole range of feelings evoked by the deep sorrow
— from repentance to hatred, blessed or poisoned by the bitter fruits
of the tree.
But when he found — in his opinion — that a «clairvoyant» found a package from «his» Scottish ladies of 25
According to liszt further clarifications were like this
(liszt 1852/1879, pp. 24–25):
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“Żal!” [“Grief!”] Strange [is] this noun, with a variety of strange and even
stranger philosophical content. Flexible to various grammatical forms, it’s housed
in a humble submission, all shades and emotions arising from the doleful resignation, when it comes to facts and external things, and if we can say so, with all
gentleness bows his head against the inexorable quirk of Fate. But the moment
when the subject of this feeling is a man, the word “grief” is changing face of
the grammatical form, means the unrest deep resentment, riotous protest, the
conception of revenge, relentless menace pervading in the depths of the heart
in anticipation of retaliation or one who is barren bitterness!
It is not impossible that Chopin had relied in its submissions to the Słownik by linde — his philological authority.
There was, at the “grief ” entry, said (linde 1807–1815, vol.
vI, Part II, pp. 796–797):
regret, sorrow, pain, heart, mind […]. Sorry for the loss, cost, painful
feelings of loss or the cost […]. Sorry for the act, regret its conduct, the
exercise is to conduct, behavior, way of life; recantation, cf. repentance. […]
Pity, addiction, compassion […]. Complaining […]. Sorry to someone,
sorry for somebody, feeling miserable with the referenced harm.
Shades of meaning they can order weather and sorrow
at our own risk.
Well, there is a cheerfulness of happiness; a cheerfulness
of closeness; a cheerfulness of reliance; and a cheerfulness
of unconcern.
There is a grief–sorrow — “silver grief ” (liszt 1852/1960,
p. 69) coupled with a sense of failure. There is a grief–longing
— “gray grief ” coupled with a sense of loneliness. There is a
grief–regret — “fiery grief ” (liszt 1852/1960, p. 69) coupled
with a sense of someone’s disappointment. Finally, there is grief–
helplessness — “black grief ” coupled with a sense of despair.
Chopin experienced all shades of both the cheerfulness and
grief, but in correspondence appear more words for the latter.
Cheerfulness — happiness, intimacy and trust — reaching a carefree prevailed at the Warsaw time. Not accidental
66
is his paraphrase of the proverb, “Old age is not joy, youth
does not delight”.
Fred’s sunny disposition is confirmed by numerous certificates. Józefa Wodzińska recalled (O Chopinie 2010, p. 39):
The fact that little Fred already had the reputation as the best pianist
in Warsaw gave him less charm in our eyes than the fact that no one of
the boys was not so eager to have fun and tricks like he was.
One of Chopin’s jokes was described by Wójcicki (1858,
vol. II, p. 19):
Neighbour of Szafarnia goods, where his Courier was published,
citizen romocki residing in Obrowo, sold wheat to a Jew. Frederick
wrote on behalf of the merchant a letter, half Polish, half Jewish, that
he resigned the contract, perfectly imitating doggerel letters, and gave
it to his friend to pass it to Obrowo. Mr. romocki became angry after
reading this letter, being sure that it was truly written by a merchant,
and if the merchant was close that time, he’d be undoubtedly painfully
overlaid with a stick.
In these jokes were a lot of humor typical for Warsaw,
trying to detect funny cracks in all things (Iwaszkiewicz
1955, p. 10) — even in a friend’s disease. He wrote in a letter
of March 12, 1827, to ill Białobłocki:
If you died, tell it to me, I’ll tell the cook, because since she found
out about this, she was praying all the time […]. everybody hugs you
after the resurrection.
The tendency to joke, moreover, was one of the most
enduring characteristics of his psyche. Do not lose it in
adulthood — even though his body was ruinous by disease.
Mrs. Sand wrote (1859/1968, p. 347):
He had the most subtle sense of humor.
Here’s testimony from a letter of September 29, 1839, to
Fontana:
To Jaś [Matuszewski] give from me for breakfast mustaches of sphinx
and parrot’s kidneys with tomato sauce sprinkled with scrambleg eggs of
the microscopic world. Bathe yourself in the whale broth. […] And to
Mrs. [Maria] Platerowa blow somewhere [in butt] from me, and to Mrs.
Paulina [Plater] sneeze. […] Put a finger in Osławski and ring the young
Niemcewicz interlaced with Orda.
then long periods of grief interlaced with brief periods of
cheerfulness. So Mrs. Sand wrote in a letter of July 24, 1839,
to Mrs. Marliani (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 85):
As soon as he feels a bit strong, he is cheerful; and when the melancholy overwhelms him, he throws himself at the piano and composes
beautiful pages.
However, it began to be gradually with a melancholic
self–irony. In a letter of July 26, 1841, to Fontana he wrote:
In Poland, Chopin felt happy; in France he lost sense of
happiness to sense of failure. He wrote about this breakthrough in linguistically unusual letter of September 22,
1830, to Woyciechowski:
Imagine that I have my nose getting longer and my reason getting
shorter — in 30 years it will disappear at all.
you live, you feel, you are lived and perceived by others, so you’re
unhappy–happy.
The same melancholic self–irony is evident, inter alia, in
letters of October 27, 1841, and August 18, 1848, to Fontana,
and October 1, 1848, to Grzymała:
He analyzed that grief–sorrow after September 8, 1831,
in Album Stuttgarcki:
Old bald head of yours let meet with my withered nose and sing to
ourselves: long live the Krakowskie Przedmieście! to notes by Bogusławski,
with tenor of Krzysztofowicz, accompaniment by late lenz. […]
We are old dolts, on which time and circumstances played their
unfortunate trills. […]
[By night] I can breathe and dream till morning.
He used more self–irony in relations with foreigners. To
Franchomme, he wrote in a letter of August 6–11, 1848:
Dry sadness came over me a long time. Ah — a long time I could
not cry. — How can I just … lonely! longing and well! — What kind
of feeling? Well and longing. — When longing is not good, but nice!
— This is a strange situation — But a corpse is the same. Well and sick
in the same time. Moves to a happier life and is well, it regrets the past
and longs to leave. This corpse must be so, as I was at the time, when I
finished crying. […]
Some momentary dying of my feelings was seen — I died to the heart
for a moment! Or rather, the heart is dead to me for a moment.
I feel like a dumbass at a masked ball, or like a violin e string on
basolia — surprised and stunned.
With this “dry sorrow” was coupled grief–longing. Chopin
wrote about it in his letters of December 12, 1831, to Woyciechowski, and of July, 1848, to Grzymała:
During living in Paris — when in a letter of December 3,
1838, to Grzymała, he put his state of mind with the words
“earth black — as my heart” — prevailed grief. But even
I almost go mad with longing, especially when it’s raining. […]
I have unrestrained nerves; I suffer from a stupid longing and despite all
of my resignation I do not know, but I’m worried what I’ll do with myself.
67
In the background, of course, was the growing sense of
loneliness, which he described yet in a letters of October 3,
1829, and of December 25, 1831, to Woyciechowski, then
in a letter of September 9, 1848, to Grzymała:
It’s so sad have no one to go in the morning, to share with him sadness
and joy, as it is unfairly when something weighs and there is nowhere to
lay it down to […].
I would like to see you here, you will not believe me, because I’m so
sad here, I do have no one to confide. you know how easily I establish
relationships; you know, as I like to chase with them rainbows; you see, I
have enough of such relationships, but with no one I can sigh. — I always
am, with regard to my feelings, in syncopes with others. […]
I feel alone, alone, alone, though surrounded.
As the health detoriated increasingly, started to appear
a grief–regret and the feeling of disappointment (“I’m angry”) and most tragic grief: grief–helplessness and a sense
of despair. Saying goodbye to Stanisław Koźmian in April
1848 he said briefly (Iwaszkiewicz 1955, p. 234):
My public profession is finished; you have a church in the village, you
give me a gracious piece of bread for the rest of my days, and for that I
will always play for you the organ hymns in honor of the Queen of the
Polish Crown.
This was despair — if we’re allowed to say so — “sublime”
and not “morbid”. Such despair we can hear — according
to Kleczyński — in the “Funeral March” (Kleczyński 1879,
pp. 27–28):
Composition, which apparently reveals a whole ocean of despair, is
that famous “Funeral March”. The sound of a bell, stubbornly repeated,
pervades the soul with horror, the melody floats above it so sad that the
heart tears apart — but who among us dares to say that a composition is
morbid? Who just once in our life was in a position, through the music so
68
dramatically plasticised, the one will undoubtedly understand how much
of greatness in the dreadful groan, and how much of majesty in this pain.
In about the same time as Kleczyński, Solange wrote
similarly (eigeldinger 1978, p. 227):
A march vibrating with pain is played nowadays — absolutely without
understanding it — on the accidental military funerals and ceremonies.
Is not this voice of despair rising towards the sky — excruciating and
wonderful?
2.1.3. Habits or news
Mrs. Sand wrote about Chopin (1855, vol. xIII, p. 85):
He was a man of very strong habits and even the smallest change
was in his life a threatening event.
Chopin was simply afraid of change. Such reluctance to
any change is indeed typical of people who are oversensitive,
which provides mental stability and repeatability of the event
anticipate — at least in part — those are to come.
2.2. Emotional sphere
2.2.1. Indifference or sensitivity
What was happening around him, Chopin was extremely
sensitive of: there were few things which was neutral about.
So it was in Poland, and in France.
About his stay in Poturzyn Chopin wrote in a letter of
August 21, 1830, to Woyciechowski:
I honestly tell you that I am pleased to mention it all — your fields
left in me some longing — the birch under the windows cannot get out
of my memory.
In France — as Mrs. Sand wrote (1855, vol. xII, p. 125):
[He yielded to the impressions] with unprecedented ease and slowness. […]
[He was] sensitive to every beauty, every charm, every smile.
With Stefan Witwicki we often visited Frederick. […] Chopin, then
gay, young, was playing for us his wonderful songs. Brilliant mind, clever,
funny, sensitive.
His sensitivity is also demonstrated in relation to what he
did. During his own recitals he «lived» so much with his own
interpretation that after the concert he was utterly exhausted
and usually “just did not know what was happening to him”
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 271); he got calmed only
after a long time.
Solange just wrote about him — and herself — in the
Paris (eigeldinger 1978, p. 237):
2.2.2. Reserve or offence
He was, rather, offended by the nature — although he tried
to show his offence not too much. He was very sensitive on
being judged by others: it was probably one of the reasons
why played mostly in the group of people which he knew
appreciate him very much.
About Chopin’s offence Mrs. Sand wrote (1855, vol.
xIII, p. 93):
A wonderful thing: a big pain didn’t break him as much as minor
annoyances did.
No wonder that a person who treats his own life rather
lightly (or even fabularized it) could not understand Chopin
at this point. He believed that such “minor annoyances”
are something extremely petty in the one who makes it to
him: we somehow depreciate the person about whom such
pettiness we cannot stop of.
2.2.3. Stiffness or tenderness
One can be sensitive to the values emerging in the world and
sensitive to the point of self–worth, and also to the people — even
the closest ones — stiff. Certainly it applied not to Chopin.
About Chopin of the Warsaw times — from 1827 — Stephen Heller wrote (O Chopinie 2010, p. 42):
Came [scil. Solange] into the dark and laying on the pillow burst into
tears. […] Chopin, who guessed what was happening to her, […] could
not find the right words, […] spoke in the language of angels to silence
her pain. He played a long time. What he improvised in this dark room?
Undoubtedly a masterpiece of sensitivity and merciful heart. Indeed,
she approached, crouched at his feet and listened with delight. When he
learned that stopped crying, took her head in his hands and placed a kiss
on her hair. A tear flowed over girl’s forehead. Oh holy tear of compassionate genius, Christian tear, divine tear! Not a word fell…
Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz (1955, p. 32) explains this sensitivity quite crudely that Chopin grew up “among biddies”. It is
true: in the family home he was numerically dominated by
“biddies”, but, first, only Izabela and emilia could be certainly
called as stereotypically «feminine», and second, Chopin’s
father had the reputation of a man rather stiff than tender.
Chopin’s tenderness — let’s stress it — had nothing to do
with sentimental fondness. In a letter of August 16, 1838,
to the parents he mocked honestly with some “German
Korinna,4 full of wows, i’s and the mosts”, a victim of sweet
sacrifice romanticism.
2.2.4. Coldness or amorousness
It was said of Chopin that he was amorous, that he had numerous love affairs and romances, and that he was unstable
in affection.
How much of this was truth — that is not easy to figure
out.
4
An allusion to old Greek poetess.
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2.3. Volitional sphere
2.3.1. Self–control or vehemence
It happens often that hot–tempered seem to be — self–
controlled: so they are able to «freeze» their vehemence.
Something similar was — according to liszt — in Chopin
(liszt 1852/1879, p. 111):
even in moments of highest excitement he self–controlled himself. […]
That permanently keeping in check the violence inherent nature brought
to one’s mind superior beings full of melancholy who grow stronger on
restraint and seclusion.
They stressed in particular his self–control in the last
moments of life, when it was absolutely clear to him that
death was inevitably approaching. Princess Czartoryska
wrote in a letter of October 17, 1849, to Józef Kalasanty
Jędrzejewicz:
Our poor friend has gone — he suffered a lot until came to the last
moment, but he suffered with patience and with angelic resignation.
2.3.2. Patience or fussiness
Iwaszkiewicz (1955, p. 52) saw in Chopin’s a fussiness — due
to «delight» and later disease.
But in Chopin dominated patience.
He had this extraordinary ability to concentrate. He wrote
in a letter of September 22, 1830, to Woyciechowski:
If I see something that interests me, I’ll be blind or horses and wagons
coming through me.
However, Mikołaj Chopin in a letter of April 26, 1834, to
his son noted that there were periods of distraction:
you confess to be sometimes distracted.
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2.3.3. Excellence or mediocrity
Chopin was a perfectionist.
even… small cracks in the ceiling shocked him. He was
touching up his compositions for weeks. Mrs. Sand wrote
(1855, vol. xIII, p. 126):
He had a dream of the ideal, not silenced by philosophical nor merciful
tolerance for the things of this world. He never wanted to negotiate with
human nature. He did not accept anything from reality. Here was his
weakness and his strength, his greatness and his misery. Inexorably to the
slightest flaw, he showed great enthusiasm for the smallest lights, in which,
exalted with the power of his imagination, he wanted to see the sun.
2.3.4. Determination or instability
Frederick’s father reproached him lack of determination. In
a letter of February 9, 1835, he wrote:
you complain about your editors, I know you: they exploit your trust,
they know that you cannot refuse […]. you are not assertive enough to
be able to bargain.
Mikołaj Chopin thought that determination is compatible with
tactfulness. He wrote to his son in a letter of March 21, 1842:
I confess that I did not expect after him [scil. it’s about liszt] what you
write me about him […]. What to do in such circumstances? Simply to
act with foresight and sensitivity, not giving back even one step. you can
keep your dignity and try to make him responsible for this.
Frederick sometimes complained about his indecision. He
wrote about this in a letter of September 22, 1830, to Woyciechowski, and of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński:
Another thing I do not follow you — that is to decide suddenly. […]
you know, I am most hesitant creature in the world, and only once
in my life I could choose well.
And in a letter of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński,
he formulated it more bluntly:
My parents tell me to do what I want, and I do not like this. To Paris
[go]? The local advise me to wait. Backwards? — To sit here? — Kill
myself?
Indecision had two consequences.
First, as Chopin wrote about himself in a letter of July
18, 1834, to Feliks Wodziński:
I always did everything too late.
Second, as noted Mrs. Sand in a letter of April 18, 1841,
to Pauline viardot, Chopin was difficult to change the decision he once took:
It is difficult for something more fun, more frightened and uncertain
than the Chip Chip [scil. Chopin], which can no longer change his
mind.
The really important things he could not make decisions
quickly about.
2.4. Style
2.4.1. Arrogance or modesty
There was in Chopin’s soul a strange combination of beliefs
about his own values (and even — genius) with a natural
modesty.
liszt wrote (1852/1879, p. 120):
Chopin had a very strong awareness of his value.
Chopin himself wrote in a letter of September 18, 1830,
to Woyciechowski:
I just could be over the all where it comes to me.
Therefore, it was probably unnecessary conventional — and
ostentatious — praise. As noted by liszt (1852/1879, p. 75):
Sometimes it was clear that praises irritate him.
The conviction of self–esteem often goes hand in hand
with an authority. According to François–Joseph Fétis —
what was probably exaggerated — that is the case with
Chopin: according to him he had a propensity for bullying
environment, including — even friends (Czartkowski &
Jeżewska 1947, p. 379).
Chopin entertained a belief in the power of the self–worth
— as Mrs. Sand recognized it without any doubts — a “just
pride” (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 474), primarily
manifested by a sense of honor. liszt wrote (1852/1879,
p. 173):
Analysing accurately the nature of Chopin, we will not find in it a
single impulse, not one slightest impulse, which would not be dictated by
the most subtle sense of honor and weave the noblest sentiments.
The source of Chopin’s “just pride” was aware of the
value of his work. He was convinced of both the excellence
of his performances, and — above all — the brilliance of
his compositions. He was aware that as genius — probably
they won’t be appreciated during his lifetime. He wrote to
Potocka — by restricting that write about someone else, but
we do not quite know who else might he thought about if
not himself (Chopin 1949, p. 309):
Strangest of people is a genius; he goes in the future so far, that his
contemporaries lose him beyond the horizon, and we do not know which
generation will be able to comprehend him. Genius has a big nose and
an excellent sniffalitis, which can sense the future direction of the
71
wind. Do not think that I make myself a genius with my huge nose; you
understand I talk about another kind of nose.
reviews of his concerts, on which he performed his
pieces were not always flattering (see: German reticence, the
change of robert Schumann rank, etc.). But Chopin never
had doubts how to create. There was no significant volt in
his work (except that over the years his music expressed
more and more suffering, and so called musical language
was more and more complicated — what is actually a natural
tendency). Moreover, he was endure to external pressures:
he could decide to write this opera, which all people waited
for — but he never did it finally.
How he manifested his modesty?
Chopin never swelled, he did not like the advertisements,
he had no inclination to be megalomaniac, etc. In a letter on
March 27, 1830, to Woyciechowski, he wrote:
but I have no time to write the second sheet; moreover, maybe you have
not forgotten my character, then you recall the one who is today just like
he was yesterday, with the only difference — having only one whisker,
when the other does not want to grow.
A manifestation of modesty was also a tendency to self–
irony. For example, he wrote in a letter of August 12, 1829,
to the family:
If the newspapers beat me so much I cannot show more of the world,
I decided to paint rooms, for a brush across the paper is easier to pull,
and one is always the sonny of Apollo.
The tendency to self–irony, moreover, was for Chopin —
a more general tendency. As recalled Solange (eigeldinger
1978, p. 235):
Chopin […] had no lack of irony.
I do not want to wrap the butter in me, as it happened to lelewel’s
portrait.
When in a letter of September 22, 1830, to Woyciechowski,
he wrote about his successes — the joy and pride mingled
with embarrassment:
Striking rondo, strong Allegro. Oh, cursed love of self! But if someone is you, egoist, I owe understanding of myself. […] I have a sincere
desire to quietly, saying nothing, decide to leave on Saturday for a week,
without mercy, despite the laments, crying, complaining and incidence
in my legs. Notes into bag, ribbon into the soul, the soul on the shoulder,
and into a coach. […]
If I am still stupid, I should think that I am on the top of my career, but
I can see how much I have to do, and I see it all because of living close to
the first artists and knowing what each has a lack of. It’s so much shame
for writing such nonsense; I bragged about it, like a child would, or like
an eager beaver who defends himself beforehand; I’d erase what I wrote,
72
Confirmed that liszt (1852/1879, p. 75):
He skillfully mastered sophisticated irony and wit.
2.4.2. Openness or secretiveness
Kleczyński wrote about Chopin (1879, p. 15):
[Chopin] rarely let someone look into his soul, rarely was confiding
to anyone.
He confided to a few best friends — and that hides his
own particular suffering. In a letter of December 25, 1831,
he wrote to Woyciechowski:
Seriously speaking, my poor health, I am happy outside, especially
among my owns (I call the Poles “my owns”), but something inside me
is murdering me — some misgivings, anxieties, dreams or insomnia
— longing — indifferent — will to live in the moment of death, desire — a
sweet peace, some numbness, unconsciousness mind, and sometimes the
exact memory bothers me. I feel sour, bitter, salty, some hideous mixture
of feelings thrashes me! Sillier than ever.
As in many other cases — he walked here in the footsteps
of his father, who wrote in a letter of the beginning of 1834:
The so called great world, […] seen up close, is very small, but you
must take it as it is, and be silent.
Secretiveness was the kind of supplement of his discretion, which has already been mentioned above. liszt noted
that — writing (1852/1768, p. 21):
Kind to others, in private life easy, always equal and serene, skillfully
concealed from the eyes of others his internal experiences.
This is confirmed by Solange (eigeldinger 1978, p.
233):
He had the habit to confide.
Mrs. Sand wrote — as usual in the overreacted way
(Tomaszewski 2010, p. 15 and 87):
Chopin never manifested outside his spiritual life. […] even in the
circle of closest ones he remained closed in himself. […] He really confided
only his piano.
This is the most secretive of […] geniuses.
The expectation that everything we tell each other about
ourselves is our deepest belief — is childish; the belief that
it is as we say it — it’s credulity. Chopin was very annoyed
with such childishness and credulity. liszt wrote about it
(1852/1879, pp. 22–23):
People who were tied with Chopin in always closed relations, had the
opportunity to see at certain moments of impatience and reluctance of
the fact that people too hastily believed his word.
But keep in mind that this is some kind of secretiveness
— namely not talking others what we think about them —
which sometimes closes dangerously to hypocrisy, which
means speaking them the opposite of what we think about
them. Unfortunately, Chopin’s correspondence reveals that
he sometimes approached very dangerous to the border of
hypocrisy — for example when he put on airs and grace
to certain representatives of the aristocracy or plutocracy,
although he could not stand them.
2.4.3. Generosity or unforgiveness
Solange wrote about the generosity of Chopin. liszt remarked, however, that generosity was accompanied by internal unforgiveness (1852/1879, p. 181):
Chopin knew how noble his heart was to forgive and he never remained
even the slightest shadow of sorrow in his heart for those who hurt him
somehow; however, all the wounds sank deep in his soul, instilling a deaf
ferment and interior suffering there in so huge amount, that he often forgot
the event, but still felt the secret spiritual torment about it.
Generosity can be combined with unforgiveness — and
it seems Chopin was like this.
3. Likes
3.1. Artistic predilections
Chopin had a clear preference, not only in music, but also
in other arts.
As for literature — he did not like Shakespeare, but he valued
voltaire (Tatarkiewicz 1963, p. 736) and Polish poetry, especially
works of Mickiewicz. liszt noted (1852/1879, p. 233):
73
He liked to listen to the new poetry, which was brought to Paris by the Poles,
and if the words of the poems he liked, he often voiced by the melodies rapidly
disseminated in the country, sometimes as pieces of an unknown author.
He depicting the Gothic architecture. About the interior
of the St. Stephen’s Cathedral in vienna he responded in a
letter of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński:
It is impossible to describe the magnificence of this, the size of these
enormous arches.
When it comes to painting — from the youth he walked to
the exhibitions. Here is testimony from a letter of September
29, 1825, to Białobłocki:
exhibitions in Warsaw are to begin, both in the Town Hall [scil. where
the exhibitions were formerly] and the halls of the University [scil. where
there were exhibited works by contemporary Polish painters].
He also visited galleries in the cities; among others he noted
a visit to Grünes Gewölbe Gallery in Dresden and in vienna
Gallery. He watched the images with the eyes of musician. He
wrote in a letter of November 14, 1830, to the family:
There are images in which the view seems to me that I hear music.
Mrs. Sand wrote reproachfully about Chopin’s taste
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 324):
Does not understand neither painting nor sculpture. Michelangelo
scares him. rubens deterrents him. He hates [Delacroix as] a painter.
And explained it with her usual confidence:
everything that seems to be eccentric — worses him. He closes himself
in the narrow conventionalism.
74
But how delicate and «fragile» Chopin could admire
their works, performances filled to the brim with heavy and
sensual human forms? valid certificate is given by Solange
(eigeldinger 1978, p. 228):
He admired raphael, Perugino, Fra Angelico, Sassoferrato. He did
not understand neither rubens nor Michelangelo. About the first one he
said: “This is a painter of thick buttocks”. About the second one he said:
“His models have colic. They twist in terrible pain.”
let us add to the list of his favorite painters Murillo
and the Spanish school. In his letter of October 1, 1848, to
Grzymała, he wrote about the owner of Stirling Castle in
Scotland:
He has here very beautiful and numerous paintings — many Murillos
and Spaniards.
Two things are striking. First, this list of artists from the
fourteenth to the seventeenth century estates: Italians Fra
Angelico, Perugino, raphael, Sassoferrato and Spaniard
Murillo — they are painters of mainly or almost exclusively
(Fra Angelico) religious themes. Secondly, the characters in
their paintings are light, slender, soulful. They belong to the
Apollonian world, and not — to the Dionysian.
Chopin in the arts did not tolerate a veristic orgiasticness.
Here’s what he wrote about Auguste Clésinger in a letter of
June 8, 1847, to the family:
In the world of Paris […] this mariage [scil. Solange with Clésinger]
was bad — because of his statue, which was on display, exposing a woman
naked in the most obscene position — pour motiver sa pose [scil. to justify
that pose] he had to clip the hose to her leg — so the twists and twists. It
is simply ordered statue by Mosselmann […], representing his mistress.
His and others, car c’est une femme entretenue très connue dans Paris [scil.
because it’s a woman hanging around obscene, very well known in Paris].
So they wonder that a young person, like Sol[ange], is interested in an
artist publicizing works so voluptic [scil. lascivious] and, pour ne pas dir
[scil. or rather] shameful. But indeed there is nothing shameless in art
— and, indeed bare belly and breasts are modeled very beautifully — I
assure that on the future exposure the audience will watch in the form
of the new belly and breasts the statue of his wife. everywhere Delaroche
painted his wife deceased — and this one will be carving Sol[ange]’s tush
of white — il est de cette force [scil. it is such a type]. — Mrs. S[and] wrote
me from the village about him: il est hardi, lettré, actif et ambitieux [scil.
it is bold, educated, active and ambitious] — it kind of benefits! […]
everyone adores her [scil. Mrs. Sand]. […] Only from time to time she
tells an untruth, but the romancier [scil. novelist] is allowed to.
That letter — what is significant — is a rare incident,
when Chopin puts French phrases into a letter to his family
in Warsaw.
3.2. Vital predilections
3.2.1. Caring tendencies
Chopin liked children: caring tendencies he got from the
family home.
It is known that he gave expression to his love for his
nephew.
He spent much time with Mrs. Sand’s children: daughter
Solange and son Maurice. He also cared for the little daughter
of Mrs. viardot, who visited Nohant in 1843. In the words
of Mrs. Sand (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 99):
Good Chopin always talks about you [scil. about Solange and Maurice];
he says and does everything to amuse me and him. […] [little daughter
of Mrs. viardot] is dancing, laughing, talking with Chopin in Polish, with
Françoise in Berrichon, and with Pistolet in Sanskrit.5
Berrichon dialect — that is, from the French province of Berry
— the girl is likely to meet with Françoise, and so the maid in Nohant;
“Pistolet” is probably the name of the local dog.
5
3.2.2. «Home» likes
Chopin attached utmost importance to both the dress, which
we wore, and to the apartment, where he stayed and received
relatives and friends.
Chopin’s apartments are spacious and luxurious — and
stylish (which after all does not always go hand in hand) —
furnished: stylish furniture, luxury rugs, elegant trinkets. For
this — favorite flowers, violets (liszt 1852/1960, p. 120): he
was sensitive to their appearance and smell.
let’s visit salon in the last Chopin’s apartment at 12
vendôme Square — immortalized by Kwiatkowski. Prevail the pastel colors: sand (symbol of reason), pink (love
symbol) and gray–blue (symbol of longing) — confluent
on the carpet in a light violet (symbol of arrogance) in a
turbulent pattern.
Above the fireplace two three–candle chandeliers, two
vases and a clock between them.
Piano. right next to the leg — in a pot — maybe his
favorite violets (a symbol of modesty). Four seats at the
empty table and empire chaise lounge: Méridienne, and
with it — seems to — a decorative box.
Walls upholstered in striped silk fabric. Doors — white.
equipment — how not to believe — carried over from the
apartment in the Orleans Square 9. except that walls were
there convoluted as here the carpet is — and on the wall of
a mountain landscape, which we cannot see.
Stanislaus Augustus would feel familiar here — as in his
private royal apartments. In general, the two men — if they
can meet, preferably on the Thursday Dinners — would like
each other much…
It is known that Chopin — like king Staś [Stanislaus
Augustus] — collected prints. Astolphe Marquis de Custine
wrote in a letter of March 18, 1837:
you like prints, so I am sending you the most beautiful that I could
find.
75
The apartment had to be — as usual for the musicians
— quiet.
His letters have numerous references on this subject —
from a time when he could not afford, and later, on larger
apartments. These are some characteristic notes of a letter
of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński, and of November
18, 1831, to Norbert Alfons Kumelski:
My room […] is big […]. Quietly. […]
I have a little room beautifully furnished in mahogany.
he aversed the public — paid — concerts at all. Certainly
he was not — contrary to the parents — frugal. In this one
point his father’s admonition have not had the desired effect.
Frederick wrote, for example, in a letter from mid–January,
1833, to Dominik Dziewanowski:
Today I have five lessons to give; you think I earn much; wagon and
white gloves, without which you would have a good tone, cost more.
In a letter of October 3, 1839, to Fontana he gave the
instruction:
In a letter of October 4, 1839, he admonished Fontana:
Once again [check apartment], is it decent, if not stink, dirty or not,
whether the neighbours are not so many that it is possible to go for a
walk without them? Are not there any trumpets and similar things in
the house.
When it comes to culinary pleasures of Chopin, he is
fond of milk (and cocoa); as for «ludic» pleasures, Chopin
liked playing chess.
3.2.3. «Farm» likes
It is surprising: Chopin parents were exceptionally resourceful. His father, who had no formal training from ordinary
officialist then tutor — has become the teacher of the most
renowned schools in Warsaw. School run by Chopins (mainly
by Justyna) — has the opinion of the best in the capital.
Chopin’s financial condition was stable: they could even
afford to grant loans to its major benefactors — Skarbeks.
Meanwhile, Frederick’s financial situation since leaving
Warsaw never was stabilized. It met — as we remember —
with criticism of his loving but tough father.
Chopin in certain periods of his life in exile earned pretty
well: mainly in the provision of lessons, because publication
of the compositions does not generate too much income, and
76
Go […] to […] my tailor on the boulevard and tell him to immediately
make me a […] black, modest, velvet vest, but with some little pattern,
something modest and very elegant.
It does not even look for the lack of a sense of savings —
but the mere extravagance… Although a loving father was
trying to justify it somehow. He wrote in a letter of September
7, 1834, to his son:
you already have your own furniture, it seems, even quite expensive;
I understand, however, that you could not do otherwise, because you
give lessons at home, and now — like all the time — people judge a man
on appearence.
Moreover, it is not inconceivable that in a certain period
of residence in Paris, Chopin played the stock market. According to Iwaszkiewicz (1955, pp. 14–15, 142) a proof for
this could be the intimate relationship with a known of
suspect financial transactions Grzymała and the French
banker Auguste léo; incidentally, they both belonged to
the Freemasons.
Perhaps, however, maybe guilty was only Paris: «demanding» city, expensive, attractive — for each artist. Chopin
noted in a letter of January 25, 1843, to Tomasz Nidecki:
All artists […] prefer poverty here [in Paris] than to live in luxury
abroad or in the provinces.
Chopin’s habit for luxuries was so great that he had no
particular qualms when the period of progressive disease
— at the melting incomes — his accounts were covered by
a russian Princess Natalia Obrescov and Scottish student,
Miss Stirling.
It is interesting that the lack of a sense of savings Chopin combined with great diligence and generosity. He wrote about his diligence in a letter of September 18, 1830, to Woyciechowski:
I realized that I was not yet the worst shirker and that I can work
when the need compulses.
It was confirmed by Mikołaj Chopin in a letter of September, 1832, to his son:
I can see […] that at last you know all the top artists in the art you
practice, and that you can compete with them. I was sure of that, knowing your diligence.
He has never refused a financial assistance to needy compatriots — if only his own wallet was not empty.
His father had it bad. He wrote in a letter of February
9, 1835:
How is your business? Do you always have enough leeches?
And in a letter of December 15, 1835, he complemented:
I applaud your intention to save something and selecting better those
who you can come to the rescue to. I was worried hearing how you was
paid for your good heart; looking at that this man I would never expected
this of him; he had probably read J. J. rousseau and there is where he
learnt ingratitude from.
77
Chapter VI. Attitude
ethical foundation of this friendship was the impeccable
righteousness of Chopin.
Kwiatkowski put it succinctly (Tomaszewski 2010,
p. 16):
He was as pure as tears.
People with whom Chopin met — because of his attitude
towards them — can be deployed within three concentric
circles.
In the most extensive circle would be people, which he acted
with kindness; in the narrower one — those who he had for
friendship; in narrowest one — those for whom he felt love.
1. Kindness
liszt highly praised Chopin, that he was “kind to others” and
“easy livable” (1852/1960, p. 25). He wrote (liszt 1852/1879,
p. 144):
He had that inborn gift of Polish kindness, which not only subordinates the owner to rights and obligations of hospitality, but also tells him
entirely to give up of remembering of his own person, to think only of
the wishes and pleasure of visitors.
A similar opinion of him had Mrs. Sand (Tomaszewski
2010, pp. 87 and 16):
He is […] always nicest. […]
[He goes by] the noblest concurrence of feelings.
This was confirmed by Solange (eigeldinger 1978, p.
226):
[He was characterized by] unwavering devotion [to others].
78
In the circle of friendship of Chopin there was almost
whole environment. exceptions — they were. It happened
that some liking was replaced by dislike — but it is difficult
to share the opinion of Mrs. Sand (Czartkowski & Jeżewska
1957, p. 312) that it is evidenced by the variability of attitudes
toward others. Initial attitude was generally positive, keeping
it in face of evidently negative facts demonstrates clearly a
dogmatic blindness, which is completely strange to Chopin.
It is hard to be kind for the publishers, who seemed to prefer
the works of Chopin for a profit… only for themselves.
Sometimes the kindness becomes a caricature: imposing intrusive to others with its «services». In a letter from
September 4–9, 1848, to Grzymała, Chopin complained of
such intrusion:
It’s ugly outside, and I’m angry and sad, and I’m sick of people caring
too much.
2. Friendship
In the linde’s Słownik under the item “friendship” Chopin
could read (1807–1815, vol. Iv, p. 640–641):
Fostering, […] good behavior with someone, the deck of confidence.
[…] [Friendship] turns someone else’s interest in our own.
This “fostering” may have had varying degrees of course
— and Chopin was fully aware of this.
Among his friends were — the most numerous — some of
whom his friendship was a response to worship (to Chopin,
or in relation to what was dear to him) on their part; some
he understood without words with; and at last those with
whom he could simply “sigh” to (see letter of December 25,
1831, to Woyciechowski).
An example of the first type of friendship was friendship
with Marquis de Custine. In one of the letters to Potocka
Chopin wrote about him (Chopin 1949, p. 307):
yesterday de Custine has visited me. Good man indeed! He is curious
of our national music. My music is already familiar to him and he asked me
to play today works by the greatest Polish artists. So I played him what I
could. When I finished, he told me that all the works of those artists do not
see that these are the Polish national works […]. About my compositions
he said that they are quite different than the work of the French, Germans
and British. And said that Polish music begins with me.
It had to be a great friendship, since the Marquis wrote
to him in a letter of June 30, 1836:
you are the only person I authorize to come to Saint–Gratien [scil.
the Marquis’ estate] whenever you want and even without noticing me
about it before.
A year later, in the spring of 1837, he wrote to Chopin
with concern:
you are sick, and what’s worse, you may get sick much more seriously. you come to the end of the suffering and anguish of the soul and
body; when concerns of heart change to disease we are lost; the idea is
to prevent this in your. I do not try to comfort you, I respect your feelings, which, moreover, I can only guess, but I wish that the remaining
feelings never changed to the physical suffering. It is the duty to live, if
a man is like you, a source of life and poetry; do not lose this treasure
and don’t treat the good God lightly, ignoring His most precious
gifts. It would be an unforgivable crime, because God himself will not
give away a past wasted voluntarily by you. […] Are you stop in Paris
because of the lack of money? If so, I can lend them to you, you will
return it to me later, and you rest for three months!!! If you feel lack of
love, please let at least friendship act; live for yourself and for us; you
can still get rich. […] Anxiety will haunt soul in solitude, it’s true, but
the physical rest will influence the soul, and the wings of your talent
will get you toward the worlds, which allow to forget about ours. Free
yourself from the routine of your life in Paris; here awaits for you an
opportunity hard to find: a month of rural life in suitable conditions,
then travel towards the banks of rhine.
An example of the second type of friendship was friendship with Białobłocki and Woyciechowski. In a letter of June
20, 1826, he wrote to the first one:
Do not expect in this letter simple name day compliments, these feelings, that which is dreamed, exclamation marks, apostrophes, pathetic
parts, and similar rubbishes, buncombes, trashes and boshes […], but
whoever is bound by a eleven–year–long friendship involves […] does
not need write letters with compliments, because he never writes what
he would like to write.
However, in letters of September 18 and 22, 1830, Chopin
wrote to Woyciechowski:
[I want with you] to talk like it is said when the joy shuts the access
of all the cold and forced words and the heart with another one talks in
some divine language. […]
I understand you, penetrate your mind and… let’s hug, because I
cannot speak more.
Such non–linguistic agreement with “divine language”
also associated him with Heinrich Heine, who wrote about
Chopin (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 18):
When he sits at the piano and improvises, it seems to me that I was
visited by someone close.
79
It was summarized by liszt (1852/1879, p. 147):
preagonial confessor, Father Aleksander Jełowicki and
Norwid.
They understood the halfwords and halfsounds.
So it was a friendship of minds — not hearts. Solange put
it perhaps too sharply (eigeldinger 1978, p. 228):
[Heine] alienated […] [Chopin] with his Jewish cynicism, but […] [his]
beautiful verses delighted him, and extreme intelligence — amused.
Sometimes friendship as a response to worship was connected with the joy of intellectual intercourse with a friend.
This was the case of Delacroix. He wrote in a letter of May
30, 1842, to Mrs. Sand (Sydow (ed.) 1955, vol. II, p. 350):
Dearest entertainment for me is wandering around the garden to
talk [to Chopin] about music, and in the evening in a corner of my
salon listen to it, when God himself comes down with the music from
his divine fingers.
They were also — fewer — friends «for life and death».
For these friends, in letters addressed per “My life!”, which
probably should be understood as meaning that they were
friends, for which he lived and was ready to give his own
life. About this highest degree of friendship, Chopin wrote
in a letter of September 18, 1830, to Woyciechowski:
Often the one who wants to improve, he deteriorates. And I think
that I cannot with you make it better or worse. The liking I have for you
makes supernatural efforts to force your heart to the feeling of liking.
you’re not the master of what you think, I am the one and I shall not let
to abandon me like trees abandon the green which gives them all the
specificity, joy and life.
An example of this type of friendship — NB. only with
the Poles — was friendship with a school friend and his
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3. Love
It is impossible to describe — objectively, dispassionately
— love.
Two things, it is true, are certain.
First, the love generally (with the exception of the love
between mother and daughter, and between father and
son) is the relation between a man and a woman. When
a man, like often Chopin does, asks the other man, either
directly or in letters of “My Darling!”, or says or writes
that he loves him, he usually points the friendship — not
love sensu stricto.
Secondly, a component of love is friendship — or, as the
old linde out it in his Słownik, love is a higher degree of
friendship (linde 1807–1815, vol. III, pp. 114–115):
loving, cherishing, adoring […]. Feeling stronger than friendship,
brighter and more sensitive than gratitude.
everything else — what can be said about love — must
necessarily be accompanied by the flat of uncertainty, perhaps except the fact that love cannot live without so called
“tenderness”. That tenderness can indeed be expressed in
different ways — from tender thoughts and glances full of
praise to a tender hug and an act of making love — but it is
always a constant desire of closeness of loving people.
This gives a base to distinct love «pure», familial,
passionate…
3.1. «Pure» love
«Pure» love in the life of Chopin was certainly a youthful
love for blue–eyed blonde, Konstancja Gładkowska. He
wrote about this, leaving no doubt about that fact. Was it
the love reciprocited?
Konstancja wrote on October 25, 1830, in Chopin’s Sztambuch [Album] (Hellman & Skowron & Wróblewska–Straus
(ed.) 2009, pp. 419 and 422):
Strangers can better reward, evaluate each other,
But love you more than us they certainly cannot.
But here “to love” means only “to admire”. It wasn’t a
coincidence that Chopin made a postscript below which
says “they can”. Incidentally, this «pure» love of Chopin
to Gładkowska still continued after her marriage. This is
evidenced with ludwika Chopin’s words from a letter to
his brother:
you write that your love is here. […] I wonder, how can you be so
unfeeling. Palace seemed to be [for Gładkowska] more important, but
you made a bad interest; you said she had a good taste, feeling! Ah, the
feeling! But it seems she has that feeling only in the singing, and you are
the proof for it!
The «pure» love was probably feeling of Chopin to a
“Parisienne”, “the granddaughter of a famous master”, which
Mrs. Sand recalls (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 310).
The «pure» love, but with the views for something more,
as it turned out — deceptive ones, was love for Maria
Wodzińska.
It was a mutual love. It is felt in Maria’s words, “a loyal
secretary”, from a letter of January 25, 1837, to Chopin:
Mother scolded [me], and so I thank you, thank you so much, and
when we meet, I will thank you even more.
And then in French:
I hope that there is no need to repeat the assurance of the feelings of
your loyal secretary.
This love was the victim of the cold «calculating» of Maria’s parents, but the memory of the engagement has expired
neither in Chopin’s nor in Wodzińska’s heart. Frederick kept
letters from Maria whole life, adding to them an inscription
saying: “My misery”. Mary for the rest of her life played
Frederick’s pieces the way as she wanted to give them the
inscription: “Our misery”.
3.2. Familial love
Of course Chopin participated also in a familial love: to and
from mother, to and from sisters (especially ludwika). It is
possible that he also loved Mrs. Sand’s children with a kind
of fatherly love, and Mrs. Sand (at some stage) and Miss
Stirling loved him with a shadow of mother’s love.
3.3. Passionate love
And how about a passionate love?
It is said that it connected Chopin with Mrs. Sand and Delfina
Potocka. Both ladies, moreover, were seen as… seductresses.
There is also an opinion that Chopin didn’t act to conquer
Mrs. Sand, but that she conquered him. eloquent proofs of
that are the first impressions of Chopin’s meeting, which took
place in late October, 1836. He wrote about this in a letter to
parents (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 277):
I met a great celebrity, Mrs. Sand, but her face was unpleasant; I did
not like her: there is something repulsive in her.
Meanwhile Mrs. Sand did everything from that moment
to be as close as possible to Chopin and — to win over his
friends. She had been on all evenings with Chopin, and in
a letter of March 28, 1837, she wrote to liszt (Sydow (ed.)
1955, vol. I, p. 299):
Marie [d’Angoult] told me that Chopin is expected; please tell him
[…] that I adore him.
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To Marie d’Angoult, she wrote in a letter on April 3,
1837:
Tell […] Chopin that I worship him like an idol.
After a year, in June 1838, Mrs. Sand confided their misgivings in a letter to Grzymała (Sydow (ed.) 1955, vol. I,
pp. 315–316):
I think our [scil. her and Chopin’s] love can exist only in those
circumstances in which it was born, that is, from time to time, when
the successful wind connects us, we fly together in a land of stars,
and then we separate to once again walk the earth. […] I would be
satisfied most, if our poem could be arranged so I knew nothing,
absolutely nothing about his practical life, neither he about mine,
and that he lived according to his own religious, worldly, poetic and
artistic principles. […] I have no doubt that a man becomes better
when he loves with sublime love, and that not only he is far from sin,
but on the contrary, close to God, who is the source and focus of this
love. Maybe you should use this, my dear Sir, as a final argument, that
explained everything well, and thus no way to hurt his beliefs about
the obligation, a religious sacrifice and devotion, you would bring
relief to his heart.
Chopin against women — even of the low state — was
full of gallantry. Some of them thought on this basis that he
was amorous. But he certainly was not a seducer.
There are signs that — as in the case of Wodzińska —
Chopin had in the case of Mrs. Sand a hope that not the
«pure» love will be at the end. Perhaps — as some suggest
— he imagined that he would create with her a real, common
house. It is significant that in the context of Miss Stirling
he wrote that he could not tie up with the woman and then
make her unhappy — as a gravely ill man and therefore not
giving her support in life. Well, in relation to Mrs. Sand he
didn’t have to have similar objections. She had two children
(which in fact took a liking to Chopin), stable financial situation, and she was known not only of the «male» manners,
but also of the «masculine» character — so she did not need
support in any way.
As Hoffmannowa recalled — Potocka, whom he met on
November 17, 1831, he “looked at […] always like at god”
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 420). But this is the sign
of «pure» love. In a letter of April 19, 1847, he wrote to the
family:
Mrs. Delfina Potocka (who, you know, how I love) was to be […]
with me.
And to Chopin she wrote this autumn:
love me, my angel, my dearest happiness. I love you.
Meanwhile Heine describes relationship between Chopin
and Mrs. Sand this way (Iwaszkiewicz 1955, p. 187):
This great musician and pianist was for a long time her cavaliere
servente.
On the other hand Zygmunt Krasiński bluntly called
Delfina Potocka “Don Juan in a skirt”.
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But here again “love” in relation of Chopin against Delfina meant just the same what in relation of Gładkowska
against him.
There are those who believe that at least the first few
months of closer knowledge of Chopin and Mrs. Sand was
fulfilled with love, some even resort to accusations that Mrs.
Sand ravaged physically (and mentally) Chopin. Perhaps it
was for him — as Paris and its night life salon. After muting
first passion being with her must have been more and more
difficult: it turned out that this is not his ideal — not an ideal
at all — but the woman extremely intelligent, although with
often vulgar and always mercenary, and the features were
for Chopin at least alien. Nevertheless, for many years he
was unable to liberate of this relationship. He was kept in it
by a sense of responsibility for Mrs. Sand and her children.
let’s trust Chopin, when he wrote in a letter of December
12, 1845, to his family:
Never believe bad rumors, because there is a lot of people in the world
who cannot see the happiness with peace.
After the dramatic breaking up — he wrote in a letter of
December 26, 1847, to his sister ludwika:
I do not regret that I helped her endure the most delicate eight years
of her life, whereupon, when her daughter was growing, and her son was
becoming a little man, I do not regret all that I had. […] let bygones be
bygones. Mrs. S[and] may have about me only a good memories in her
soul, if she once looks behind her.
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part iii
worldview
As we remember, Chopin was provided by his circle at
the Warsaw lyceum and the University of Warsaw with a
sense of practical realism and a common–sense aversion to
exalted speculation concerning the substance of the universe
and romantic messianism dreaming of the reform of all
humanity. Chopin’s attitude towards others was cordial
and sympathetic; he believed that it was good when people
were friendly towards each other; however, contrary to
messianists, he felt that seeking a universal way to make
all people friendly and good–natured was doomed to fail
from the start.
He spoke of towiańskism plainly in a letter of March 23,
1845, to Witwicki:
What could be crazier than that?
He was additionally distanced from the messianists because
of the vague language they used for their speculations.
A similar attitude at the vilna University was adopted by
Dowgird, who expressed his metaphysical standpoint in extremely precise language. Any derogation from the principle
of accuracy was tolerated only in metaphysical aphorisms,
which constituted a kind of résumé which crowned reasoning
in which this rule was applied.
Sadly, Chopin left similar punch lines in the field of
metaphysical declarations. He usually gave them the form
of condensed self–devised anecdotes, often paradoxical at
first glance, or he used ready–made models taken from a
«book» of Polish proverbs which, as it turns out, he was
very familiar with.
What these sentences were meant to summarise can only
be the subject of more or less probable hypotheses. These
hypotheses are, however, worth voicing, especially since the
degree of their understanding grows within the net of their
interrelationships.
Chapter VII. Fortune
Time flies. Our life passes, not always according to our
intentions. In addition, details of our life plan seem to slip
our minds. We feel, however, that death is getting near. With
the passage of time it gets increasingly harder to accept.
We get consolation only in oblivion. In a letter of February
10, 1848, to his sister ludwika, he wrote:
Time: ultimate doctor.
1. Life
1.1. Uncertainty
This is how Chopin contemptuously expressed the «fundament» of his worldview in a letter of September 25, 1830,
to Fontana:
In a letter of November 18, 1831, to Kumelski, oblivion brings to mind a kind of mental rubbing out of past
events:
Often when I look through letters in the evening or write something
in that diary of mine and glance at the litany, it seems to me that all those
remembrances are a dream; I do not believe that, in fact, it all happened.
Inky pinky ponky. This is the greatest truth of life.
There is no doubt he meant by this that nothing is certain
in life.
This epistemological starting point is pessimistic in its
character. It is also close to an ontological, rather than epistemological, thesis — about the absurdity of existence.
1.2. Loss
This impression is heightened by the fact that Chopin, in his
own words this time, speaks of the certainty of death in the
letters of October 27, 1841, to Fontana, and of November
30, 1848, to Grzymała:
Anyway […] time flies, the world passes, death chases us. […]
This world passes me somehow, I forget myself, I have no strength.
let us connect both phrases, complete the ellipses, de–
personalise, and, wherever necessary, risk interpretation.
We achieve the following thought:
With the passing of years it becomes eradication from the
memory of “all that, in fact, happened”, including increasingly
more issues and longer periods of life. In a letter of August
12, 1829, to his family he quoted approvingly his friend’s,
romuald Hube’s, opinion:
Hube claims that man will never get anywhere the regular way and
according to his own plan; something has to be left to fate.
1.3. Hope
However, Chopin completes his metaphysical viewpoint in
a letter of October 27, 1841, to Fontana:
What will be, will be — as the old proverb goes.
How shall we understand this?
These can only be the words of an optimist who is not
easily discouraged by life’s adversities. Then the saying, “What
will be, will be” becomes an expression of hope.
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But this saying can also be a life motto of someone who
is in constant fear of what is to come and who is supposed
to be calmed down by it.
Which was true in the case of Chopin?
It was probably the first as he was closer to rational hope
than to irrational reassurance.
But perhaps the significance of these words was changing
over the years and we will never know what Chopin really
meant.
2. Faith
There is something which supports rational interpretation:
faith.
There are people whose faith shines though their lives
to such a degree that its light is visible in each action and
behavior. There are those for whom faith is an important
factor although, as often happens with essence, hidden so
deep that others, strangers, do not have even indirect access
to these areas of their psyche.
Chopin’s mother and his sister ludwika were definitely in
the first group. Chopin was decidedly not one of them.
Did he belong to the second one?
religious faith is many–layered; it contains a layer of
dogma (and within it the ethical thread and the eschatological thread), a layer of ritual (genetically tied to tradition)
and a layer of institution… Believers sink into these layers in various combinations and to various depths. There
are also differences of attitude towards religion: from its
proclamation and strict following to total rejection and
attack.
Chopin’s belief was certainly far from extreme in this
respect even though Mrs. Sand claimed the contrary (1855,
vol. xIII, p. 129):
Chopin […] was strongly tied to religion. He claimed about me […]:
“yes! yes! I am completely […] sure that she loves God”.
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However, for personal reasons she is not a credible source.
For other reasons, also priest Jełowicki is not one, as he
presented Chopin as utterly indifferent to the matters of
faith in a letter to Ksawera Grocholska and he claimed for
himself the credit for converting Chopin in the hour of his
death. The only point in which he was not economical with
the truth is when he said that Chopin was inclined to treat
confession as a way of “confiding to a friend” rather than
a sacrament (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 530). Such
view certainly stood in opposition to the catholic dogma,
but was not yet scepticism.
Chopin’s standpoint on faith was probably close to what
Marquis de Custine voiced (1843, vol. II, pp. 363–364):
The more reason and science limit the domain of faith, the greater the
reflection of God’s light, focused in its divine prism; it is better to believe
when you believe less. The signs of the cross do not denote piety.
As liszt rightly put it (1852, p. 114):
Deeply religious and honestly devoted to Catholicism, Chopin never
spoke openly about it, keeping the matters of faith to himself and never
manifesting them to the outside world.
let us revise that: he never manifested his faith in words.
But it shines most wonderfully through some of his compositions, most importantly, as Bohdan Pociej aptly noted, in
Prelude in E major, Op. 28, No. 9 (1989, p. 68):
In the cycle of Op. 28 we can single out one piece, which could be
treated as inspired by religion: Prelude in E major, with its simple, cord–
melodic structure, hymnic character, and movement as if derived from the
swaying of church bells (a similar stylistic effect as in the “Funeral March”
from Sonata in B–flat minor); Prelude which increases the elevated spirit
until the triumphal culmination. A listener sensitive to transcendental
references in music, its sacral qualities (values) and religious symbolism,
may sense in this short, expressively condensed piece a great metaphysical and religious tension, passionate longing for God, transcending to
the divine. Perhaps here, only once in the cycle, lies the crucial spiritual
stress, directing our attention towards the sphere of which Chopin himself
spoke little, although he, being a genial artist and a romantic man, felt
very deeply its importance in the hierarchy of values.
To confirm these words, let us quote Chopin himself, just
like a composer should be quoted:
He who has never experienced “transcending to God”
during ad communionem anthem will never extract the full
value from this Prelude.
It is also worth noting that Chopin was very familiar with
the Holy Bible and he could quote it from memory until the
end of his life. In a letter of 17–18 October 1848 to Grzymała
he wrote with visible impatience about camouflaged attempts
to convince him to follow Protestantism on the part of Miss
Stirling’s sister:
Mrs. erskine, who is a very devout Protestant, and honest, would
probably like to bring me round to Protestantism — she brings me the
Bible, talks about the soul — takes down Psalms for me — religious, honest,
but really concerned about my soul — she’s always saying there is a better
world than this one — but I know it by heart and answer her with quotes
from the Holy Bible and explain to her that I know all about it.
3. Death
3.1. “Bickering with God”
Chopin’s first written reflection upon death comes from the
so called Album Stuttgarcki. Here is the beginning (Chopin
1829–1831, pp. 526–528),
Strange thing! This bed, which I’m going to, may have served some other
dying man, and it does not disgust me now! Maybe many a corpse lay and
lay long upon it? — And how is a corpse worse than me? — Also a corpse
doesn’t know anything about his father, mother, sisters, about Tytus! — Also
a corpse doesn’t have a sweetheart! — He cannot speak with others with
his own tongue! — A corpse is as pale as me; as cold as I now feel about
everything. A corpse ceased to live — and I have lived my fill.
The word “corpse” appears twenty two times in Chopin’s
Album Stuttgarcki. Why? On the one hand, Chopin gets
the news of the violent suppression of the November
Uprising.
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He imagines scenes of massacre (Chopin 1829–1831,
p. 528):
The Stuttgart clock tower clocks chime a night hour. How many
corpses in the world now! — Mothers lost children, children — mothers;
how many plans fell through, how much sadness about the corpses at
this time and how much consolation.
Among the killed there are his friends and relatives
(Chopin 1829–1831, p. 530):
Suburbs in ruin — burnt — Jaś! — Wiluś surely dead on the ramparts
— I see Marcel in captivity […]. […] Do you have a mother? — Such a bad
one! — Mine is so good! — Or maybe I don’t have a mother any more. Maybe
she was killed by Moskal… murdered — senseless sisters, will not budge —
no — Father in despair, cannot cope; nobody to support Mother.
Why does he also call himself a “corpse”? Several hypotheses come to mind.
Firstly, he is surely in a state of severe psychological
trauma mostly caused by the uprising, fear for the people
he left behind, but also an unhappy relationship.
Secondly, in consequence of traumatic exhaustion there
arises in him an emotional emptiness, a burnout of a kind —
“dry” sadness, i.e. without tears. We read (Chopin 1829–1831,
p. 528),
Oh tears? — They haven’t flown for so long? — Is it so? — yet a dry
sadness came upon me. Oh — I could not cry for the longest time.
One gets an impression that at this moment of the monologue tears appear in Chopin’s eyes, which actually bring him
relief. This is why he writes that he feels good and homesick
at the same time…
Thirdly, and most importantly, Chopin comes to realize
clearly how impotent and helpless he is. Just like a corpse
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which has no influence on what is happening in the world,
he also has no influence on the fate of his country and
compatriots (Chopin 1829–1831, p. 528):
Whatever can come of my existence! — I am of no use to people
because I have no calves or gobs! — And even if I did, I would not have
anything else anyway! What with the calves — when it cannot be without
them!
There are various interpretations of those “calves” and
“gobs”. We came up with this: in armed struggle for the
freedom of the Country there is demand for propagandists
(“gobs”) and soldiers (“calves”); Chopin is no good for either
propaganda or combat… This is why he is like a corpse
(Chopin 1829–1831, p. 528):
Has a corpse calves? A corpse also like me (!) has no calves; and in
this lies another similarity. So mathematically I am not very far from a
close bind with death.
Obviously, finding a relevant analogy is not yet a “mathematically exact” proof of the sameness of the objects; let us
remember however that these are not a schoolboy’s digressions of a dull logic student, but rather the spontaneously
scribbled thoughts of a twenty–year–old artist in a state of
severe depression.
Some wordings from Album have encouraged others to
seek analogy with “Improvisation” from scene II, part III,
of Dziady (Forefathers’ Eve) by Mickiewicz. Chopin writes
(Chopin 1829–1831, p. 530):
Oh God, thou art! — Thou art and not take vengeance! — Haven’t you
had enough of Moskal crime — or — or you are Moskal yourself!
Whereas in “Improvisation” Konrad says (Mickiewicz
1832/1956, pp. 8–19):
listen to me, God […]! […]
you are silent! you are silent! […]
Whoever named you love was a liar […].
I look at my unfortunate fatherland
As a son at his father on the wrack,
And I feel all the pain of my people
like a mother the child in her womb.
I suffer, I rage. — While you, happy and wise,
you still govern,
Still judge,
And never are wrong, so they say! […]
Speak! For I shall fire on this nature of yours […],
I shall shout that you are not the father of the world but…
The Tsar!
let us remind that the last word is not spoken by Konrad;
it is the devil who says it…
The analogy between Chopin’s “God–Moskal” and
Mickiewicz’s “God–Tsar” is presumably the result of the fact
that at that time such comparisons were simply common in
Poland, grounded in the well–known tendency of russians
to «divinise» the autocrat. The mechanism of this process
will later be rightly described by Chopin’s friend, Marquis
de Custine, in his La Russie en 1839, published in 1843.
Naturally russians, when they adore the tsar, regard him as
so good as God. Poles on the contrary: they call God a “tsar”
when they admit He could be so bad, so cruel as a tsar.
Indeed, such supposition is made by Chopin, and for
three reasons.
One reason to think of God–being–as–cruel–as–tsar is
less relevant from the ideological point of view, as it is incidental: it is the sight or image of a particular death, especially
the death of a dear one, what is more, a noble death for the
motherland. Chopin draws an otherwise obvious conclusion
— it would be better if I were not born at all, since I cannot
die like that (Chopin 1829–1831, p. 528):
It is clear that death is man’s best deed — so what would be the
worst? — Birth! As opposed to the best deed. Then I am right in being
angry about being born! — Why oh why was I not allowed to stay inert
in the world?
Is it then worth to live like this? Only when there is other
motivation — for instance love for the relatives (Chopin
1829–1831, p. 528):
Today I do not long for it [scil. death] — unless you are unwell, children
[scil. sisters]. So also you do not wish anything better than death! — If
not, I wish to see you again — not for my own, but an indirect, happiness,
since I know how you love me.
Two other reasons for the arising of the God–tsar idea
are stronger as they are of a metaphysical nature.
Perhaps the essence of human life rests in the fact that
it is full of suffering and it is, as Søren Kierkegaard will put
it in 1848, a “deadly disease”. In a letter of July 18, 1856, to
Maria Trębicka, Norwid writes that when he complained to
Chopin about his suffering, the latter used to say (Norwid
1971–1976, vol. vIII, p. 269):
you are not the first and not the last to suffer like that.
The conviction that life is a “deadly disease” was expressed by Chopin in Album Stuttgarcki as follows (Chopin
1829–1831, p. 528):
Why do we lead such a wretched life, which devours us and only
serves the purpose of producing corpses!
The essence of human life may also lie in the fact that it
puts everyone beyond good and evil as it touches everyone
alike, as Nietzsche put it later, in 1885. Chopin states (Chopin
1829–1831, p. 528):
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On the one hand, what a multitude of dishonest caretakers — on the
other, oppressed beings — are corpses. Good and evil corpse! — virtue
and crime is one!
The life of every human being — good as well as evil —
is living–towards–death. This «metaphysical» fact can be
«tamed» in three ways.
It is true — but after death all bills are settled: the virtuous
are saved and the evil are condemned.
It is true — because God is cruel (“like a tsar”).
It is true — because there is no God.
There is then a threefold alternative: the Catholic God
who “redeems the sins of the world”, «oriental» God–tsar
and — atheism.
Chopin in his Album does not reject the first option,
does not choose the last one, but at least allows the middle
element. This was the essence of his Stuttgartian “bickering
with God”.
3.2. Fear of death
Death, which Chopin wrote about in Album Stuttgarcki, was
only an imagined death, and it was, as it later turned out, an
incorrect image. Those who Chopin thought were dead had
not in fact lost their lives; also the russian army led by Ivan
Paskevich, which invaded Warsaw after the capitulation of
the Polish army, did not carry out a massacre like the one
which befell the inhabitants of Warsaw’s Prague district in
1794, when following the occupation of the city by the troops
of Aleksandr Suvorov, about 20 thousand innocent Prague
inhabitants were brutally murdered within a few hours. This
is what the Prague massacre seemed like in the testimony of
the few survivors (Mościcki 1924, p. 18–20):
No one was spared. Infants severed from their mother’s breasts were
pierced with spears, “so they do not grow to take revenge” and thrown
into burning homesteads; teenage boys were caught alive in order to take
92
them away to russia and there, a devilish concept, raise as enemies of
their own fatherland. Nuns in the Benedictine convent were raped and
slaughtered, […] miserable dwellers were dragged out of their houses to
put them to fanciful death amidst drunken folly. […] Soon city squares
were covered with hideously slashed bodies, without clothing, in one
terrifying mass crammed into mud, shapeless, and yet still twitching with
spasms of life of groups and pulp of bodies of soldiers, civilians, Jews,
priests, monks, women, children.
A painter’s vision of this crime is presented in the works
of Jan Piotr Norblin and Aleksander Orłowski.
However, Chopin stood face to face with a death that was
not imagined but real; in 1827 he buried his sister emilia,
then two childhood friends — Białobłocki (in 1828) and
Matuszyński (in 1844), as well as his father (in 1844).
Did Chopin fear death?
Mrs. Sand had no doubts that he did, and she had a
ready explanation: his fear of death had its source in Polish
Catholicism (Sand 1855, vol. xIII, p. 130):
Catholic religion casts a terrible shadow upon death. Instead of dreaming of a better world for […] pure souls, Chopin had only terrifying
visions […]. Thoughts of his own death were accompanied by superstitious representations taken from Slavic poetry. As a Pole, he lived among
nightmares straight from fairy tales and legends.
This explanation was simple as well as misleading. It
could only have arisen in the mind of one who, like her,
formed an opinion about these issues on the basis of Dziady
by Mickiewicz and applied a literary vision of old (and
beautiful!) customs preserved in the lithuanian province
to the mentality of the 19th century Warsaw intellectual
elite.
Naturally, it is not to say that there were no periods in
which nightmares formed in his imagination. However,
it was at the time when his health was worse than bad:
bodily emaciation, sleepless nights, a nasty cough during
the day…
This does not mean Chopin felt no fear of his death. yet,
it was more of a feeling of anxiety whether he managed
to create works whose value would outlive his death, or
even — would be appreciated only after his death. This is
the meaning of his mysterious words in a letter of October
20, 1841, to Fontana:
God willing, all will be well, and if he will not, at least act as if he
did.
The sky is pretty, I am sad in my heart — but that is of no importance. If it were otherwise, maybe my existence would be of no service
to anybody.
Those “penultimate days” of Chopin were variously described by eyewitnesses.
According to Mrs. viardot, which she wrote in a letter of
the end of October, 1849, to Mrs. Sand (Sydow (ed.) 1955,
vol. II, p. 262):
3.3. “Penultimate days”6
He was dying with dignity, although he dreamed of a different death — different in two ways. In a letter of September
4, 1830, he confided to Woyciechowski:
How sad it must be to die somewhere else, not where you lived. How
terrible it will be for me to see an impassive doctor or servant by my death
bed instead of my family.
First of all then, he died “somewhere else”, although apart
from an “impassive doctor” and “servant” there were friends
and his beloved sister ludwika by his bed. Secondly, he died
not as a soldier. Before his death he complained (O Chopinie
2010, p. 30):
I die miserably in bed — I would understand if it were in a battle.
yet, in spite of a “different death”, he died resigned to
his fate.
In a letter of 25 June, 1849, to his sister ludwika, in which
he asked her to come visit him in Paris, he wrote:
The title of this paragraph alludes to the words of the startling
poem by C. K. Norwid.
6
In a letter of September 17, 1849, to Franchomme he still
hoped it was not the end yet, but he added without a trace
of rebellion:
What will be, will be.
He [scil. Chopin] died exhausted by the priests, who forced him to
kiss relics six hours in a row until he breathed his last.
liszt turned out to be much more moderate (1852/1879,
p. 305):
Since priest *** was absent, who was in a very close relationship
with him since they left the fatherland together, he asked to bring priest
Aleksander Jełowicki, one of the most illustrious representatives of Polish emigration. He saw him twice. When the priest was giving him Holy
Communion, the dying man accepted it with great devotion, surrounded
by a group of friends. Then he asked each and every one to come up to
his bed and blessed each of them, praying to God to give grace to them,
commending to Him their wishes and hopes.
Two more descriptions are worth quoting.
The first, an extensive one, comes from Solange (eigeldinger 1978, pp. 230–231):
Gutmann set himself up in the salon with some poor Pole [scil.
Kwiatkowski], who would not give in and sketched the dying man’s
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profile in pencil. The sister, exhausted and worn–out with emotion,
flung herself on the bed. The door was closed. A young chaplain [scil.
Jełowicki] and Mrs. Clésinger stayed. She was sitting at the edge of the
bed, holding the dying man in her arms, supporting him with her arm;
he, the priest, warmed the poor swollen legs with hot towels. The feet
were already ice cold. About two a.m., on the 17th, he began to lose his
sight, but he remained conscious. He lifted his head and spoke to Mrs.
Clésinger, “Do not stay here. It will be hideous. you shouldn’t look at
this”. Again his head fell heavily on his friend’s arm. The young woman
had never seen death before. She got frightened and called for Gutmann.
Big and strong, the already famous pianist, held the master in his mighty
arms to prevent him from suffocating. “Who is here?” asked Chopin. He
was already unable to see! “your disciple.” “I am thirsty. let me drink.”
Mrs. Clésinger gave him a glass of water with a splash of wine to drink,
from which he drank a sip. His head tilted back. Gutmann held it. Then
his eyes directed at Solange completely clouded over and he froze in
the last, wistful embrace…
In the other description, Chopin’s niece, ludwika
Jędrzejewiczówna–Ciechomska, who did not have to (like
viardot) give vent to her anticlerical idiosyncratic feelings,
stated concisely and to the point:
He died confessed and anointed.
Norwid in his letter of 25 October, 1849, to Cezary Plater
commented bitterly on Chopin’s final moments (Norwid
1971–1976, vol. vIII, p. 80–81):
Chopin died — I wasn’t there at the moment of death, as there was
too much satin and lace around the bed of the suffering man — but I
saw him some days before and said goodbye. When people instead of
helping–to–die start helping–to–live, it will be better then, otherwise
it’s all just a farce!
Chopin himself affixed his death with telling symbols.
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Firstly, according to liszt, on Chopin’s request Potocka
sang Alessandro Stradella’s aria Se i mei sospiri for him, one
that was reputed to have saved his life.
Secondly, again according to liszt (1852/1960, p. 174),
he requested to be buried in Père–lachaise cemetery next
to the grave of vincenzo Bellini, who he was friends with
and whose music he valued.
Thirdly, as liszt writes (1852/1879, p. 200):
Chopin, who among all distinguished contemporary musicians gave
the least public concerts, wished to be put in his grave wearing the suit
he wore for his performances.
Fourthly, he asked his sister ludwika to take his heart
with her to Warsaw (as an emigrant he could not be buried
in his country); as we know, it rests now in one of the naves
of Holy Cross church in Warsaw.
Chapter VIII. Man
having to humble oneself before them, apologising for the
harm one has done them. Following an incident between
liszt and Thalberg, Chopin reprimanded the former (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 220):
Why did you offend him like that and then humble yourself in front
of the offended?
At times, as Wilhelm von lenz writes, “prompted by weaknesses” (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 418), Chopin
misjudged others (e.g. he overestimated Adolf Gutmann).
Mrs. Sand attributed it to the fact that Chopin simply lacked
knowledge about human nature. As was the case in many
issues concerning Chopin, she was altogether wrong; she took
opinions differing from her own to be a lack of knowledge.
She forgot that the inability to apply a criterion in some cases
did not really denote being unaware of its existence.
Below there are rudiments of Chopin’s anthropology. It
was not complete, but the fragments which Chopin managed to consider and leave the conclusions on paper were
strikingly accurate.
1. Individual
1.1. Respect and trustworthiness
Chopin was rather pessimistic in assessing human nature. In
a letter of 19 August, 1848, to his family he complained:
People are always guided by something other than truth.
This is why he considered respect to be the ethical minimum in interpersonal relations.
He also claimed that respect for others is in a sense profitable, as less «costly» in comparison to the prospective effects
of its lack. It is better to treat others with respect than to risk
This weighing of values, calculating goods, was generally
something typical of Chopin. For instance, he thought striving
for one’s own well–being, under certain conditions, was nothing
wrong. But it was worthier to endow others with well–being;
an altruistic attitude was more valuable. However, it is essential
to establish in advance what is veritable well–being for those,
who we want to «please», especially if these are subtle people.
Otherwise it will be as it was in the case of Miss Stirling’s and
her sister’s overprotection of Chopin, which he commented
upon in a letter of October 1, 1848, to Grzymała:
They will strangle me with their goodness and I will politely not
deny it to them.
Chopin considered protectiveness to be the ethical maximum
in interpersonal relations. The model was motherly love, which
he wrote about in a letter of July 24, 1847, to Mrs. Sand:
[A mother’s love for her children (?) is] the only feeling which does
not change. Adversity may conceal it but never distort it.
Chopin knew of it from his own experience as he himself
encountered the unique feeling.
1.2. Memory and conscience
Oblivion brings relief from our suffering, and oblivion comes
with time. As Chopin remembered in a letter of July 24,
1847, to Mrs. Sand:
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Time is the remedy.
People attempt to forget, especially if it weighs on their
conscience. This is why they avoid the people who could be a
«mirror of conscience» for them. They would rather pretend
that everything is fine than face a painful truth.
Perhaps this is why Chopin regarded differentiating between “true devotion and flattery” as an important life skill,
as he wrote in a letter of 10 February, 1848, to his sister
ludwika.
1.3. Woman and wife
Chopin’s outlook on the status of women was prevailingly
«modern».
He believed that in the area of «knowledge of life», expectations should be higher for women than men. He compared
Solange to her mother, writing in a letter of June 8, 1847,
to his family:
A woman of twenty can be frivolous, not a forty–
year–old.
In a letter to Potocka he distanced himself from Norwid’s
ungrounded generalisations (Chopin 1949, p. 306–307):
In Norwid’s latest letter one thing struck me, that when writing about
women in nothing but the best words, he still says that woman, being
of a weaker mental disposition than man, will never create anything of
value in philosophy, mathematics and music. you and your musical pieces
immediately came to mind.
He probably also thought of his sister ludwika, who
was equally if not more intelligent and competent than her
husband.
Admittedly, in a letter of June 25, 1849, he utters an
«old–fashioned» sentence:
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The wife shall be obedient to her husband.
However, one gets an impression that these words were
written half ironically and half in fear that his brother–in–
law, a traditionalist in the matters of marriage, might read
them.
2. Society
In social issues Chopin was conservative and at the same
time politically inert.
Chopin’s political conservatism was of a slightly royalist
nature. For obvious reasons, he accepted the status quo. let
us remember that the natural environment for the development of his talent was in aristocratic houses, first Polish
and then French. This did not prevent him from displaying
considerable reluctance and even scorn towards aristocratic
(and plutocratic) circles as such, especially French, although
he had many friends in these circles. Simultaneously, he remained objective to and somewhat distanced from “the lower
class”. In a letter of November 14, 1829, to Woyciechowski
he stressed:
It is not birth that makes man.
For him it was not merely a saying; after all, his father
was not made by his birth but by his hard work. yet, in
his letter of December 25, 1831, to Woyciechowski, he
wrote:
The lower class [in Paris] is extremely embittered — and keeps plotting to change the state of their poverty, but, sadly, the government is too
sensitive to such signs and has military police disperse them at a tiniest
attempt of gathering. […] What an impression those terrible voices of
a discontent crowd made on me — you cannot conceive! — They were
expected to continue the emeuta [scil. rebellion], as they call it here, but
the morons have been quiet so far.
In Warsaw he played not only for his compatriots but
also for Grand Duke Constantine.
It is worth noting that even though upon his leaving
Poland he got from Grand Duke and his wife, a Pole by the
way, a letter of recommendation, he never made any use of
it. Also, he never went to St. Petersburg, the capital of the
Tsar’s empire, in spite of the invitation. As Mrs. Sand noted
(Czarkowski & Jeżewska, p. 460), he never came back to
Kingdom of Poland although he was “certain he would be
tolerated there” by the partition authorities.
In Paris he kept the company of the Czartoryski and Plater
families. He could be found in the company of King louis–
Philippe and the socialist, louis Blanc, of monarchists and
republicans (e.g. Gottfried Cavaignac). He wrote about it half
in jest in a letter of mid–January, 1833, to Dziewanowski:
I love carlists [scil. followers of king Charles x] and I hate philipists
[scil. followers of king louis–Philippe]; I am myself a revolutionist so I
think nothing of money.
This was probably only a proof of his political realism, as
he was opposed to both socialism, in any case in its utopian–
religious character (e.g. Saint–Simon socialism), and the republican system. He made fun of the major Saint–Simon socialist,
Pierre leroux, in a letter of October 20, 1841, to Fontana:
let us save ourselves till after death. NB. Not in the leroux sense —
as then the younger you die, the more right you are. Do not draw any
conclusions of bad thoughts here; I’m going to have lunch now.
In a letter of 25 November to Mrs. Sand he ridiculed
«fusionism»:
It is a new religion […] in which the prophet had a vision in the
Meudon forest, where he saw God. He promises the atrophy of differences
between sexes as ultimate happiness at some point.
Irony can be sensed in his political views. In letters of
March 3, and March 22, 1848, to Solange, he wrote:
Can you imagine, the birth of her daughter gives me more joy than the
birth of the republic. […] So far it has been quiet [in Paris] and confusion
progresses steadily.
Many years later Solange remembered (eigeldinger 1978,
p. 228):
egalitarian ideas bored him to death, even in the period of the greatest infatuation with the lady of Nohant. He smiled saying: “let Mammy
play!” This is how much he got from her incredibly boring enchantment
with barefoot philosophers.
This attitude of political realism was most probably inherited. His father wrote to him in a letter of October 16,
1842:
So you have prophets in your country? How lucky of them to find
some people naive enough to believe it in this century. But what wouldn’t
a man do to deceive his neighbour?
let us add that Chopin’s royalist conservatism in the
subject of Poland did not denote acceptance of order after
the partitions but rather the conviction that restitution of
pre–partition Poland was necessary. yet even here he was far
from Zaleski’s naivety, when he wrote in a letter of March
5, 1846, to Chopin:
I wish you all the best for your name–day. Dear God, let us celebrate
the next one in an already free and independent Poland. Things in Cracow
are going excellently. Our Witwicki is lucky to be so close to the fire.
That “fire” was the Cracow revolution, which ended one
day before, a fact Witwicki did not know about at that time.
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Chopin expected Poland’s path to independence to be
bloody. In a letter of April 4, 1848, to Fontana he wrote:
Galicia’s countrymen set an example to volhynia and Podolia; terrible
things will surely happen but at the end of it there is great, free Poland,
Poland in the end.
As for Chopin’s attitude to political activity itself, and in
general, ideological activity, liszt characterised him rightly
(1852/1879, pp. 185 and 184):
His inborn sensibility together with great finesse soon made him realise
that there was absolutely no point in most political speeches, theological
disputes and philosophical digressions. […]
even if he sometimes spoke about the political ideas, so frequently
disputed in France, so violently attacked and so passionately defended,
it was to point out whatever he thought false or wrong rather than to
convince his listeners to the legitimacy of any of those ideas.
In a letter of April 15, 1832, to Nowakowski, Chopin
wrote:
People here are discouraged […] and bored with everything for various
reasons, but mostly political, which paralysed the whole country.
He himself was also discouraged by the frequent political
change, so characteristic to contemporary France. In a letter
of July 8–17, 1848, to Grzymała he predicted:
God saved you in those last few days, which were only the beginning (sensible, they say) of the conflict of the two parties. Until now,
it was all in the heads, in imagination and in books, put forward in
the name of education, justice, solidarity, etc; but now all this filth
will be calling for vengeance in the name of martyrdom. And there is
no end of vengeance! Domestic war of principles, then the necessary
downfall of civilisation under the mask of contemporary vision. your
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great–great–great–great–grandchildren will come from free Poland
in a few hundred years or rebuilt France or something else entirely in
its place.
Admittedly, lenz called Chopin “the only political pianist”
of his time (Tomaszewski 2001, p. 17); however, he did not
mean Chopin’s personal political activity (which did not
take place) but rather the political weight of his work, which
Schumann commented upon in his well–known aphorism
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 255):
Had the autocratic, mighty lord of the North known how dangerous
an enemy threatens him in those simple mazurka melodies, he would
probably have banned the music. Chopin’s works are cannons hidden
among flowers.
Nothing changed in thus understood Chopin’s non–
political attitude since Warsaw period. Then the issue of
starting the uprising was on the agenda in his circles. It
is hard to doubt Chopin’s sincere patriotism, but Chopin
was not a fan of the uprising as he doubted its success. The
difference of opinion on this matter was one of the reasons
of deteriorating relations with Mochnacki, who was an enthusiast of resistance. Another thing was that he was really
involved in it and its progress once the uprising broke out,
as can be seen in Album Stuttgarcki. remembering about
russian censorship, he wrote with necessary caution in a
letter of January 1, 1831, to Matuszyński, and of January
29, 1831, to elsner:
Why cannot I at least beat the drum? […]
Since the day […] I learned about the events of 29 Nov[ember], I
haven’t received anything but disturbing anxiety and longing.
He asked to be sent a portrait of general Skrzynecki,
who was nominated Chief Commander of Polish Army on
February 26, 1831, immediately after the battle of Grochów.
Chopin wrote in a letter of July, 1831, to his family:
I received the portrait of our chief commander, general Skrzynecki,
but it was badly damaged.
He had pangs of conscience about not taking part in the
fighting and he noted in Album Stuttgarcki after September
16, 1831 (1829–1831, p. 530):
What to me — I sit here idly — empty–handed — Sometimes I only
groan, I grieve on my piano — I despair…
In a letter of January 1, 1831, to Matuszyński he adds:
Why cannot I be with you, why cannot I be a drummer!!!
He was just as deeply emotionally involved in the Great
Poland Uprising of 1848 and its downfall on May 9 of the
same year. In a letter of May 13, 1848, to Grzymała, he
writes:
I got all the dreadful news on Grand Duchy of Poznań through
Koźmian (Stan[isław]) and Szulczewski, who Zalewski contacted with
me. Trouble and hardship; I don’t even long for anything in my soul.
Perhaps he felt it would be inconsiderate and reckless
for an artist to join the political playground. Or perhaps he
simply valued peace.
It is a fact that he «ran away» from both the Polish November Uprising of 1830 and the French July revolution of
1848. In Great Britain, where he took shelter from “the hot,
revolutionary climate of Paris”, he wrote in a letter of June
2, 1848, to Grzymała:
It is peaceful here. either Irish or charter issues do not alarm.
3. Nation
3.1. National community
To be a Pole is to be a member of the Polish nation. Nation
is community, whose members are bound with one country,
one lineage, one spirituality, one state and one heritage, in
brief, one homeland.
Our native land is the place where we were born or
spent at least a part of our lives, especially childhood and
youth.
Chopin’s homeland was Poland, or more precisely, its
province, Mazovia. Kotarbiński, who himself came from
Mazovia, but had a Sarmatian (that is, characteristic of
all nobility in the multiethnic Commonwealth) and old
Western Slavic spirit, writes about it (Kotarbiński 1960,
p. 393):
Chopin’s personality is prevailingly native Mazovian. yes, Mazovian,
I repeat, not Sarmatian in general or simply Slavic.
Chopin spent nearly half of his life in France and certainly
got attached to his father’s homeland. yet this is how he put
it, according to liszt (1852/1879, p. 230):
[Chopin] left vienna with the intention of going to london; however,
on the way there he stopped in Paris, where he did not expect to stay long.
[…] years later, when he grew roots and got attached to France, he kept
saying with a smile, “I’m just passing through here”.
He felt at home in Poland — this is how he saw it. In
France he was always accompanied by a feeling of a kind
of temporality, suspension. In an unsent letter of January 1,
1831, to Matuszyński he writes:
It seems like a dream, like intoxication, that I’m here with you, and
what I hear is only a dream.
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Gradually this sense of unreality came over him more
and more strongly. He wrote in a letter of July 18–20, 1845,
to his family:
I’m always partly with you and partly in the room next to mine,
where the lady of the House works, and not at all at my place at the
moment, only, as usual, in some odd space. These are probably those
espaces imaginaires.
Przybylski takes it for a symptom of split personality; a
“product of a sick mind” (1995, p. 231). It is rather a symptom of chronic state of longing for his homeland, with its
landscape and the people dearest to him.
About his descent Chopin wrote with humor which was
so characteristic of him, referring to inter–provincial slurs,
according to which Mazovians are born blind, in a letter of
July 18–20, 1845, to his family, he wrote:
I’m a veritable blind Mazovian. Not being able to see far, I wrote
three new mazurkas.
One more thing: our homeland is the country which will
always remain our unvarying landmark. Poland, Mazovia,
Warsaw were always these kind of landmarks for Chopin. His
family, including his father, felt the same way. young ludwika
characteristically expressed it in her disarmingly frank letter
in Podróż Józia (Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa 1830, p. 45):
We are staying [in Wrocław] in the Main Square; there is a golden
tree painted on our inn; opposite there is city hall, old and dirty, but they
say it’s pretty and far prettier that the one in Warsaw. I don’t know what
they see in dirty walls; I think clean things are far prettier than dirty ones
[…], and they praise a filthy building!
lineage — it’s all those who we descend from, among
whom we grow, with whom we associate. Chopin’s surname
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was French, and he often complained because of that he was
often thought to be French. On the other hand, Poles tried to
encourage him to Polonize his surname. Maria Wodzińska
writes in a letter of September, 1835:
We never cease to regret that your name is not Chopiński or that there
is no other indication that you are Polish, since this way the French can
argue with us over the privilege of being your compatriots.
At some point Chopin’s surname was even spelled phonetically, “Szopen”. This is how even Kotarbiński spelled it,
although he had no doubts that it is not a Polish name which
makes you a Pole (Kotarbiński 1960, p. 393):
Szopen was and is Polish. He was a conscious and earnest Pole and
his works were irresistibly Polish. French blood on his father’s side and
a French surname cannot change it. Being Polish is in its essence an
amalgam of elements of various origin.
It is true, Chopin had a French father, but he thought
himself to be Polish, he was raised among many Poles and
associated mostly with them, even after leaving Poland (liszt
1852/1960, p. 144).
His contemporary, Count Antoni Wodziński, wrote (Mirska 1949, p. 199–200):
The son of a Frenchman, he took nothing from the French, except for
his politeness coupled with dignity.
Heine put it beautifully in a correspondence to Augsburger Allgemeine Zeitung (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957,
p. 256):
In a way, he belongs to three nationalities: Poland gave him a chivalric spirit and a memory of his suffering, France — charm, Germany
— romanticism.
The key expression in this quotation is “in a way”, which
neutralises its literary sense. Chopin left no room for doubt
here. As we remember, he called Poles “his owns”.
Spirituality — it is, among other things, specific traditions,
faith and language.
Polish traditions include, among other things, sharing
the Christmas wafer, the Christmas tree and carols, the
blessing of the easter baskets, and the Harvest festival. They
also include traditional Polish hospitality. In Chopin’s letters
there is often talk of the Polish Christmas and the Polish
easter. In a letter of December 12–26, 1845, to his family,
he writes:
It is Christmas eve today, our vigilia. They do not know of it here.
He was raised in this tradition. Mikołaj Chopin writes in
a letter of January 9, 1845, to his son:
On Christmas eve […] we all gathered by the table for dinner, according to tradition as you remember, and also to give vigilia presents
to your sister’s children.
In a letter of May 9, 1836, Mikołaj Chopin writes to his
son with apparent pleasure:
They say […] that the blessing of the easter baskets took place at
your house.
And this is how it was. In a letter written between December 26, 1847, and January 6, 1848, Chopin wrote:
I spent Christmas eve in an ordinary fashion, but I thought of you all.
In a letter of February 17, 1847, to Grzymała, he reminded
him jokingly:
It is Wednesday today, Ash Wednesday. At least come to repent, since
you spent the carnival in sadness.
Also, Chopin’s Kurier Szafarski brought news of the Harvest festival in Szafarnia.
The Polish faith — it is Christianity, and especially (though
not exclusively!) Catholicism. Chopin was undoubtedly
Catholic (as we mentioned before), although in some periods
of his life he did not manifest it as strongly as some would
expect.
The Polish language — Chopin, especially when he was
living abroad, communicated mainly in French. However,
he thought in Polish, it was also the language he mastered
in speech and writing.
The home state — it is not the same as the country. each
nation has a country, even if its shape changes over time; but
not every nation has its own state. Chopin lived at a time
when Poles did not have a fully independent state.
National heritage — it is the main repository of national
culture and the subject of particular aversion (and in some
periods intentional destruction) on the part of enemies of the
country. Chopin took handfuls from this repository. In a speech
during the celebration of the 100th anniversary of Chopin’s birth
Ignacy Paderewski said (O Chopinie 2010, p. 37):
In Chopin there lies everything we were forbidden: colorful overcoats,
belts with gold thread, sombre Czamara coats, the clink of noble swords,
the groans of an injured bosom, the rebellion of a tethered soul, cemetery
crosses, roadside country churches, the prayers of troubled hearts, the pain of
servitude, grief for freedom, a curse on the tyrants and a song of victory.
In a letter of April 23, 1840, to Fontana, he wrote:
The blessing took place in the club.
However exalted these words may seem, they display well
an important “part of Chopin’s soul”.
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3.2. Love for the homeland
As we can see, Chopin fulfilled most conditions necessary to
be Polish. At the same time, he was, which is most essential,
a Pole at heart. And if one is a Pole at heart, what one should
value the most is homeland.
love for the homeland — patriotism, consists of two ingredients: pride and devotion. Those who love their country
take pride in it and dedicate themselves to it, and so they
spare no effort to add to its heritage.
National pride is manifested e.g. in emotions which take
hold of us when we come to the places that are «sacred» in our
tradition. Chopin felt these emotions when he pictured king
John Sobieski’s Battle of vienna on Kahlenberg in vienna.
National pride requires us to, among other things, take
care of Poland’s reputation. No wonder Chopin took offence
when he accidentally heard a German saying in vienna:
“There is nothing to look for in Poland”. He wrote about it
in a letter of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński:
Today […] at lunch at an Italian restaurant, I heard: “God made a
mistake, creating Poles” [“Der liebe Gott hat einen Fehler gemacht, dass
er die Polen geschaffen hat”], so don’t be surprised I cannot describe well
what I feel. Don’t expect any news from a Pole either, since the other
person answered: “Nothing happens in Poland” [“In Polen ist nichts zu
holen”]. Those bastards!
No wonder then that Chopin so commented upon the
london Times publishing subjective negative articles about
Poland in the spring, 1848, in a letter of June 2, 1848, to
Grzymała:
[The Times] publishes such rubbish that even the english are stricken
by its unfavorable attitude.
There is no doubt at all that Chopin added to the national
heritage to the greatest degree. His patriotism was an active
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patriotism of greatest value, and not, as it sometimes happens, talking about being patriotic. Mathias put it simply
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 393):
Chopin was a fervent patriot.
liszt added (1852/1879, pp. 182–183):
The artist’s patriotism found its expression in the direction of his
work, in the choice of friends, in displaying special kindness to students
of Polish origin, in doing favors to his compatriots frequently and willingly; though I cannot remember him talking willingly about his feelings
for his country.
He also systematically frequented parties at the homes
of Polish emigrants in Paris, during which he even agreed
to accompany dances; there were also benefit concerts for
Poles (e.g. Antoni Orłowski in rouen), taking part in charity
events for emigrants; there were collections for monuments
of great Poles (e.g. a monument of Niemcewicz)…
3.3. Attitude toward foreigners
Some confuse patriotism with nationalism, claiming that
there is no patriotism without nationalism: hate towards
others. They propose cosmopolitanism as the most appropriate. It is a mistake; in order to love your own country you
do not have to hate the countries of other people. One of
Chopin’s main mentors in Warsaw, linde, realised that, and
he thus described a patriot in his Słownik (linde 1807–1815,
vol. Iv, p. 64) as:
A citizen concerned about his country’s well–being, defending the
homeland as he would his ownership. […] A citizen [who is concerned],
insists on working for the homeland’s good with all the means he has at his
disposal. […] Patriotism comes from the enlightened bravery which feeds
only on the public good, and the heroism which makes sacrifices for it.
It is no wonder then that Chopin did not let anyone
persuade him to abandon patriotism. He stated openly in a
letter of January 29, 1831, to elsner:
[Johann] Malfatti is trying in vain to persuade me that each artist is a
cosmopolitan. even if it is so, I am still in my infancy as an artist, whereas
I have commenced my third decade as a Pole.
Chopin directed many snide remarks at people of various
nationalities using, as one does in such cases, generalisations and making judgements resting on the pars pro toto
principle about russians, Germans, Austrians, the French,
Polish and non–Polish Jews, Czechs, Americans or the
British.
For instance, this is what he wrote about Germans in a
letter of May 15, 1826, to Białobłocki:
Apparently, gentle Sir Jan, you got very drunk on German righteousness; you used to invite me to visit you, and now you advise me not to
leave! What could be the cause of this accursed avarice! you shouldn’t
have gone to that Bischofswerder.
While he could not stand the stereotypical German meanness, he valued their love of order. He expressed it in a letter
of September 16, 1828, to his family:
A part of Berlin from this side [scil. from the east] is not the prettiest,
but it delights with order, cleanliness, well–matched objects, in a word, a
far–sightedness of a kind, which can be noticed almost in every corner.
later Chopin summarised the state of affairs prevailing in
Germany with one word, “swamp”. His distrust towards Germans was encouraged by his compatriots. Friedrich Wieck,
Clara’s father, wrote, not very elegantly, to a friend in Halle
in a letter of the beginning of October 1835 (Czartkowski
& Jeżewska 1957, p. 251):
Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, Chopin is coming to Dresden,
but probably won’t give a concert here, since he is too lazy. Maybe he could
stay longer if not for his false friends who discourage him from getting to
know the leipzig music scene, namely one dog from Poland.
This is what he wrote about the French and Paris in a
letter of November 18, 1831, to Kumelski:
It doesn’t pay to think in this world; if you were here [that is in Paris],
you’d take it to heart — each Frenchman bounces, screams, even if he’s
needy. […] There is [in Paris] the greatest luxury, the greatest meanness,
the greatest virtue, the greatest vice, adverts for cures of venereal diseases
everywhere — more clamour, noise, rumble and mud than you can
imagine — you vanish in all this and it is convenient because no one asks
how anyone lives. […] I thought to stay here for two years.
And in a letter of December 25, 1831, to Woyciechowski,
he added:
Sometimes you can get 3, 5 sheets of printed rubbish for next to
nothing. Now and then […] les amours des prêtres [priests’ love affairs],
L’archevêque de Paris avec Mme la Duchesse du Barry [the archbishop of
Paris with the duchess of Barry] and thousands of other coarse pleasantries,
sometimes written with great wit.
yet in a letter of December 12, 1831, again to Woyciechowski, he noted something important to him which Paris
guaranteed: privacy. He wrote:
Paris is whatever you want it to be — you can have fun, get bored,
laugh, cry, do all you wish and no one will even look at you, because there
are thousands doing the same as you — and each in his own way.
In turn, the source of negative stereotype of Jew was the
state of affairs in Poland, where Jews had been tradesmen
for centuries, a job which was considered by the gentry, but
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also by peasants, to be unworthy of a decent men, as it was
impossible to do it without fraud. This is the sense of the word
“Jew” in Chopin’s letter of October 11, 1841, to Fontana:
As to the selling of my furniture, I would be a fraud, a Jew like doctor
Wołowski, if I were to sell old junk — make good use of them.
later, already in France, the stereotype was strengthened
by his own, sometimes unpleasant, experience with publishers and bankers of Jewish origin.
This is what he wrote about the english in a letter from
london to one of his friends in Paris in July 1837:
Big deal!! — Huge bathrooms. — But there is nowhere to go pee. —
But the english women, the horses, the palaces, the carts, the richness,
the luxury, the space, the trees, all of it, from soap to razors, all of it
is outstanding — they are all standarized, all educated, all wahed but
black like a nobleman’s butt!!
In a letter of August 6–11,1848, to Franchomme, he
added half in jest:
The people here are ugly but seem kind. On the other hand, the cattle
is beautiful though it seems malicious.
In a letter of August 19, 1848, to his family, he wrote, this
time in ernest:
If this london were not so black and the people were not so heavy and
there was no stench of coal and no fog, then maybe I would have learnt
english by now. But the english are so different from the French, who I
got used to like my own kind; they only take everything for pound, and
they like art because it is luxury.
What he thought about «the english soul» can be read between
the lines from his letter of September 25, 1839, to Fontana:
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I thank you very much for your kind, friendly, not english but Polish
soul.
This did not stop him from admiring the culture of these
nations and having friends among them: among russians
(Princess Obrescov), among Germans (Hiller), among the
French (Delacroix), among German Jews (Heine), among
Czechs (václav Hanka), among Americans (emerson),
among the British (Miss Stirling, Scottish)… This list is
obviously incomplete.
Only someone infected with so called political correctness
can detect in his words something more than temporary,
emphatic, emotional exaggeration, since he did not even
spare his own kind. He writes about an old–fashioned Pole,
Aleksander Moszczeński, in a letter of August 8, 1839, to
Fontana:
[His] mazurkas, as you can imagine, are great, ram didiridi, ram
didiridi, rayda [onomatopoeia meant to imitate the rhythm of the
mazurka]. […] He seems to be a kind–hearted old Polish law–giver
(probably one of those who… [pee?] from the bridge to the river [scil.
do not have toilets in their homes]).
For obvious reasons Chopin’s attitude to russians, Germans (including Prussians) and Austrians, that is the nations
whose leaders stood behind the partitions of Poland at the
end of the 18th century, was particularly telling.
This attitude was tinged with a sui generis ethnic fatalism.
Norwid had some influence on Chopin’s outlook on this
matter. This is Chopin’s account of one of his conversations
on this subject with Norwid, included in his letter to Potocka
(Chopin 1949, p. 308–309),
[Norwid], among other things, eagerly tried to prove to me that just
as a man, a nation never changes; it always has the same virtues and
vices. He said that the Teutonic Germans were as sly, despicable and cruel
as contemporary Germans. Also we will not get rid of our virtues and
vices — squabbling, lack of consent, self–interest, which have put us in
servitude, will do it again even if we miraculously manage to recover. I
listened to him, like to a grim prophet and I had to admit he was right.
I tried to find consolation in our Polish saying, “It will get better” […]
and I also attempted to console him with it. Then I played Jeszcze Polska
[scil. Polish national anthem] and we both cried.
3.3.1. Russians
In Chopin’s times russians were called “Moskals”. For Poles
contemporary to Chopin, including him, the word was
perceived as negative. It came from the fact that although
the partitions and annihilation of the Commonwealth at the
end of the 18th century was the work of three neighbouring
empires, russia, Prussia and Austria, in the end it was russia
which initiated the process, benefited from it and secured the
after–partition «order». The greatest three Polish uprisings,
the Kościuszko Uprising, the November Uprising and the
January Uprising, were deliberately directed at russia.
When Poles criticised russians–Moskals, they basically
meant the tsar’s regime and its departments working in the
parts of Polish territory incorporated into the Tsar’s empire,
mainly including the police, informers and censorship; they
also meant the political system itself, which was the base of
all these institutions.
This system was totally alien to Poles, who valued other
principles. These were: the possibility of choosing the country’s government, the openness of public life, relationships
with neighbouring countries based on the principle of status
quo, personal freedom of the gentry guaranteed by the law,
including freedom of religion, humane (for those times) treatment of the lower classes of the society (peasants, craftsmen,
merchants) and recognising the rights of the minorities.
We get an insight into this system from Chopin’s friend,
Marquis de Custine, who went for a three–month–long trip
to the Tsar’s empire in 1839 and published his thoughts
on it in 1843 in La Russie en 1839. Interestingly, many of
his critical remarks on the «Moskal soul», that is, those
features of russian society which encouraged the triumph
of autocracy east of Poland, are still true now. Despite all
the political perturbations and the changes in the russian
mentality connected to them, a contemporary «Marquis de
Custine» would be left with many similar conclusions as his
19th century predecessor.
Here are the opening and closing sentences of La Russie
en 1839, written by a man whose father and grandfather
were decapitated on a Jacobin guillotine (1843, vol. I, p.
18; vol. Iv, p. 327):
I went to russia to seek arguments against proportional representation and I came back as an advocate of a constitution. A mixed system of
government does not encourage activity but ageing nations have less need
of action and such a government gives the most support to production
and brings the greatest wealth and well–being to the people, and most
of all, such a government causes the greatest activity of thought in the
sphere of practical ideas; finally, it makes citizens independent through
the system of law and not through elevation of spirit: this surely makes
up for all the inconvenience. […]
If your son is ever dissatisfied with France, use my example and tell
him, “Go to russia!”
The Moscow system, which de Custine witnessed on
the spot, was, firstly, an absolute monarchy; officially it was
hereditary but in truth it was «corrected» by bloody coups.
It was unthinkable in this system to introduce a structure
which would put any restrictions on the autocratic power of
the monarch, even in the form of constitutional monarchy.
Here are the words which de Custine used to present the
tsar’s hypocritical point of view (1843, vol. II, p. 17):
I have been a constitutional monarch [scil. in Poland] and the whole world
is aware how much it cost me that I did not want to yield to the demands of
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this dishonorable system. Buying votes, corrupting consciences, charming
some in order to deceive others — I despised all those methods as they are
humiliating both to those who take orders and those who give them, and I
paid dearly for the effort to be sincere. But, thank God, I finished with this
despicable political system once and for all. I will never be a constitutional
king again. My need to say what I think is too strong to ever let me consent
to rule a nation with the use of my cunning and plotting.
Secondly, the Moscow system was manifested in secret
politics: what counted here was, most of all, plotting and
murder mixed with hypocrisy and self–hypocrisy. De Custine
considered it to be an incurable disease of the system (1843,
vol. I, p. 196; vol. Iv, p. 279):
There are cures against political savagery; there are none against the
mania of seeming to be something which you are not. […]
Crime in the open triumphs only for a while, whereas false virtues
corrupt the spirits of nations for ever.
Thirdly, another component of the Moscow system was
imperial aggression: seeking to always enlarge the territory at
the cost of the neighbours and regardless of the costs which
russia had to bear along with the neighbouring countries.
De Custine wrote, almost prophetically (1843, vol. I, p. 149;
vol. II, p. 336):
russians are warriors, but only for the conquering; they fight out of
obedience and greed, whereas Polish knights have fought only out of
love to the cause. […]
If the greatness of the purpose is measured with the amount of deaths,
one has to foretell ruling over the world for this nation.
Fourthly, the Moscow system was characterised by the
lack of autonomy of the individual, total incapacitation of
the citizens, including those parts of society whose members
were officially «free».
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The lack of autonomy characteristic to the Moscow system
was supplemented with brutal exploitation, which was a
hierarchically ordered ruthless exploitation «of all by all».
De Custine reproached russians for it, as it led to the decline
of compassion (1843, vol. II, pp. 164–166):
The objects of our compassion have to retain some degree of self–
dignity for us to take their misery seriously! … Pity is commiseration,
and what man, even the most compassionate, would want to commiserate
with that which he scorns? […] That you got accustomed to this cruelty
[scil. cruel treatment of others] explains your [scil. russians’] indifference;
however, it does not justify it.
The crowning achievement of the Moscow system was
ethnic intolerance: there could be only one true nation —
russian and, let us add, eastern Orthodox.
Obviously, in various periods, depending on the external
circumstances and the personality features of a given monarch and his camarilla, the indicated aspects of the system
were present to varying degrees, but they never reached a
«zero» level.
Marquis de Custine, after his return from the trip, wrote
in a letter of November 15, 1839, to Chopin:
I have returned from the end of the world, and you — from even
farther, since one travels farther in the heart and imagination than by post.
In the name of Poland’s honor I trust I will find you unchanged. […] I’m
staying in the country to rest after my ramble through Siberia.
“The end of the world”, “Siberia” — these are very telling
terms to define St. Petersburg, Moscow, Jaroslav, Nizhny
Novgorod…
Chopin approved of the sense of this description and
it is not impossible that in some cases he even provoked
the author’s comments to some degree. This concerned
especially the comments on Polish mentality, some of which
were snide, but most of which were favorable to Poles, even
complimentary, sometimes even overly complimentary.
In the early letters of 1837 and the end of 1839, the Marquis reproached Chopin:
In my opinion, the Polish spirit is so fleeting that I cannot help feeling
anxious that you might forget about our dinner today. […]
even I, who have considered myself to be a poet of sorts, begin to
doubt them all, since I learned of the uselessness of selfless feelings. […]
Farewell, Polish Trifler!
But in La Russie en 1839 he wrote (1843, vol. I, pp. 151,
365; vol. II, pp. 365–366):
Poles are in exactly the same position in relation to russians as the latter were
in relation to the Mongolians at the times of Batu–Khan’s successors. […]
In vain do I try to think only about what I’m saying; my imagination
wanders against my will from Warsaw to Tobolsk, and the very word “Warsaw” brings back my distrust [for what russians say about Poles]. […]
At present, the roads of Asia are still filled with exiles recently torn from
their families, who walk in search of their own graves, like herds which leave
a pasture to go to a slaughterhouse […]. This new outburst of anger [of the
tsar’s regime] was caused by a supposed Polish conspiracy — a conspiracy of
youthful madmen, who would be perceived as heroes if they succeeded,
although in my mind their attempts are even more noble in their hopelessness.
My heart bleeds for these exiles, their families, their country…
When he was sightseeing in the Treasury in the Kremlin
he noted (1843, vol. III, p. 203):
The throne and crown of Poland also have their place in this grand
tsar’s and king’s firmament…
He describes how agitated he was at the sight of an inscription on a stone slab in the Dominican church in Nevsky
Avenue in St. Petersburg (1843, vol. I, pp. 268–269):
Poniatowski!… royal victim of vanity, that gullible lover of Catherine
the 2nd, he is buried here without any due respect, instead, he is deprived
of respect for kingship; he only retained the pride of misery. […] The
adversities that befell that king, his cruelly punished infatuation and the
treacherous policy of his enemies will draw the attention of all travellers
to his abandoned tomb.
He quoted Krasicki’s fable, “Konie i furman” [“Horses
and coachman”] (1843, vol. III, p. 255):
I shall end with a fable, as if written solely for this purpose, to justify
my anger [scil. at those who encouraged Cossacks to fight by means
of deception]. Its author is a Pole, a bishop of Warmia, famous for his
wisdom and wit during the reign of Frederick the 2nd. French translation
by Count elzéar de Sabran.
He wrote that russians demonise Poles and blame them
for all internal attempts to dismantle the empire (1843, vol.
II, p. 567):
Uproar in the volga region continues, and all the horrors are attributed
to the provocations of Polish emissaries.
even Aleksandr Turgenev, a member of intellectual elite,
said things like (1843, vol. III, p. 329):
Whenever Poles notice that the tsar is inclined to treat them more leniently, they start plotting again, send false emissaries and simulate conspiracy
in the absence of any real crime, all of it exclusively in order to kindle hate
in russians and to provoke new persecution of their compatriots. In brief,
what they fear most is forgiveness, since leniency on the part of the government would change the feelings of their peasants, who would become fond
of their enemy in the end if they experienced his favors.
Poles’ natural aversion to the Moscow system was then
paired with an aversion on the part of the exponents of the
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system towards Poles. De Custine wrote (1843, vol. I, p.
153):
thanks to his mediation at the tsar’s court that a monument
to Chopin could be erected next to the residence in 1894.
The persecution of Poles is [not] the result of the emperor’s personal
antipathy: no; it is the result of cold and profound reasoning.
3.3.1. Czechs
Chopin was fond of the Czechs like probably of no other
nation. Perhaps the source of this fondness was his, and his
family’s, cordial friendship with his Czech teacher, Żywny.
The friendship is well depicted in the charming memoirs
of Franciszek Maciejowski, published by Wójcicki (1858,
vol. III, p. 262):
Also Chopin was affected by this aversion. Chopin, who
was invited to the house of Wincenty Wodziński in Dresden, was playing his compositions there when Count Józef
Krasiński, who attended the concert, was summoned to the
russian embassy and reprimanded by an official (Simonówna
1935, p. 105):
If Sir wishes to be our Monarch’s faithful subject, and not spend his
time in a foreign country with a reputation of a rebel, you should kick
out demagogues such as Chopin! Or at least force him to keep quiet and
leave the house, or else we will be unable to prolong your stay here [scil.
in Dresden].
Naturally, there was never a shortage of demagogues in
Poland; it is after all one of the ailments of democracy; but
in Chopin’s case such invective was certainly only a reflection of an ideological stereotype, characteristic to the tsar’s
officials, and not an objective appraisal.
Such is the nature of stereotypes. even Chopin could not
restrain himself from uttering an unpleasant allusion to lenz,
who was a German of russian citizenship (Czartkowski &
Jeżewska 1957, p. 411):
The only thing I can hold against you is that you are a russian.
Strangely enough, it was a russian, Mily Balakirev, who
was one of the most devoted fans of Chopin and of the idea
of making Chopin’s home village, Żelazowa Wola, Chopin’s
culture centre. It is thanks to his initiative that the residence
was gradually restored at the end of the 19th century; it is
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Chopin lived in very close friendship with my brother Ignacy, who
served in the former Polish army as an officer of artillery and ended his
life in France, in the city of Caen. I remember that we both used to visit
Chopin, who was busy finishing the composition of a concert, which he
was going to play soon after in vienna. He played some excerpts to us
on his piano, which was neither mahogany nor walnut, just plain pine.
We listened, enchanted. Now, my brother (when he was a functionary
in Warsaw Criminal Court) travelled with Chopin several times during
winter holiday. The last time, as my brother informed me in his letter of
July 17, 1829, they went to vienna together with Alfons Brandt, a medical
doctor who died a couple of years ago here in Warsaw, and this is when
they visited the Bohemia.
In Prague they visited a scientist, already famous at that time, václav
Hanka, and since they were both of a merry disposition, he liked them
immensely. As a proof of their friendship, Hanka asked them to write
something in his diary as a keepsake. So they took his diary with them
to their flat: my brother Ignacy wrote poems of the ancient brotherhood
of Poles and Czechs, and Chopin composed a suitable mazurka. They
gave the diary, where they so neatly wrote the notes and the verses,
back to Hanka, who was very glad of it and kept saying that he had
never seen anything of this sort in a diary. I enclose the notes for the
mazurka; about the poems, I can only remember two verses of the
second part of one stanza:
The whole world knows that Czechs
And Poles have always been brothers.
Chapter IX. Values
What was Chopin’s hierarchy of values, what he considered to
be virtue and what happiness of man was according to him,
can be deduced from his evaluations of other people and
from the reflection of his own personality: how he behaved,
what he reproached himself for.
It was all described in detail above. However, let us now put
it all together and risk putting it in order «for Chopin».
1. Good
Good — is a positive value.
let us single out values — positive as well as negative —
natural, economic, public and mental values.
Natural goods: these are most of all the vital goods — life,
health and physical fitness, as well as the hedonist goods:
pleasure and satisfaction.
economic goods: wealth should be singled out here.
Public values: first of all, these are communicative goods,
like fairness and truthfulness, as well as referential goods, like
modesty and forbearance, and political goods — freedom
and the ability to influence.
Finally, mental goods: these are most of all intellectual
features, like knowledge and prudence; moreover, emotional
goods — cheerfulness and openness, and volitional goods —
courage, composure and persistence. Among these values, the
positive communicative, referential and mental values constitute virtues, and their negative equivalents constitute flaws;
virtues and flaws are sometimes called “arethical values”.
One should add moral values to all the mentioned categories of values, as they are in a way superstructured over
them, as moral values, and especially positive moral values
or moral goods, are inherent to those of our deeds whose
intention is to bestow others with one of those extra–moral
goods.
let us call arethical and moral goods “ethical goods”.
What was the order of extra–moral goods according to
Chopin?
Among the vital goods, he prized the one which he himself lacked: health. As he wrote in a letter of March 27, 1839,
to Grzymała:
God give you good humor, health and strength; these are so
necessary.
Ten years later, in a letter of April 13, 1849, to Solange,
he even wrote:
you cannot have it all in this world; so be content with the greatest
bliss, which is health.
However, being alive and fit was precious only to the
extent to which they served moral goods.
He appreciated wealth, and therefore: economic goods,
and there were periods in his life when he was wealthy.
Among political goods he appreciated freedom more
than the ability to influence others. Freedom meant for him
also maximum privacy, which Paris offered to him, more
so than Warsaw.
However, it is hard to say with confidence what was his
private summum bonum: his extra–ethical greatest good.
2. Virtue
let us now analyse Chopin’s outlook on ethical goods, that
is: arethical and moral.
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Out of communicative virtues, Chopin appreciated fairness as well as truthfulness, although not without certain
objections. However, he considered referential virtues, modesty and forbearance, to be more important. Incidentally, he
was in full possession of all of them.
Chopin also appreciated intellectual virtues: knowledge,
and most of all — prudence.
It seems that Chopin preferred emotional virtues, cheerfulness
and openness, to intellectual virtues, and especially preferred
volitional virtues; among them he appreciated composure and
persistence more than courage. There was in it an anti–romantic
trait of the axiology Chopin believed in, even though he did not
always observe it: in romanticism, courage was more important
than composure and persistence, as well as melancholy and
misanthropy instead of cheerfulness and openness.
What was Chopin’s attitude to moral goods?
There is no doubt that they were at the top of his axiological hierarchy.
3. Happiness
In a letter of September 18, 1830, to Woyciechowski, Chopin
writes:
People often call a damaged coat, an old hat etc. a misfortune.
Then does owning a whole coat, a new hat and “so on”
make one happy?
Władysław Tatarkiewicz, a valued expert on felicitology,
identified happiness as long–term satisfaction with life as a
whole. Chopin was of a similar opinion.
What, according to him, was needed to achieve such
satisfaction?
Good health.
A loving family; one’s own.
living in a free country, with unlimited freedom to travel
anywhere in the world.
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Having devoted friends.
Devoting one’s life to creative work for others.
Appreciation of the fruit of this work.
Was Chopin happy in this sense?
He had devoted friends, he did creative work and the
wonderful fruit of his work earned the great esteem of people.
He was not healthy, he did not manage to start a family and he
did not live to see a free Poland. He was only partially happy.
Therefore he was, to use his own term, happy–unhappy. He
was content, but only sometimes: not always. He could have
been pleased, but only with a part of his life, not with his
life as a whole.
yet, can anyone ever achieve more than that?
Chopin never harbored any illusions in this matter. In a
letter of September 4, 1830, to Woyciechowski, he wrote:
Not always are you content; perhaps only a few moments are supposed to give joy so why abandon the illusion, which cannot last very
long anyway.
part iv
Artistic principles
Chapter X. Creative activity
1. Considerations
The term “aesthetics” is used in various meanings, often
significantly different from each other. “Aesthetics” is what
we call, on the one hand, a certain scientific discipline which
concerns aesthetic values, on the other hand, a certain set
of views on these values. Here, the matter will be about
aesthetics in the latter sense category: x’s aesthetics is a set
of x’s aesthetic views; Chopin’s aesthetics is a set of Frederick
Chopin’s aesthetic views.
Aesthetics as a set of views (e.g. accepted in a given period,
by a given group of people or a given person) is divided
into two kinds, depending on how it is reconstructed: let
us call the two, after Władysław Tatarkiewicz, “explicit aesthetics” and “implicit aesthetics.” X’s explicit aesthetics is
a set of views displayed by x, that is, expressed in oral and
written statements. X’s implicit aesthetics is a set of views
«contained» in x’s works. In the case of the latter we would
usually say that the implicit aesthetics consists of a certain
set of values represented in the works (rather than a set
of views). However, it can be assumed that whenever one
achieves value v in his works, so often he believes that value
v should be achieved. When reconstructing a set of values
executed in x’s works, at the same time we reconstruct a set
of x’s convictions about what is aesthetically valuable.
The “discipline of aesthetics” was roughly defined above
through the characteristics of its domain: as a discipline
which involves aesthetic values. If this definition is to be free
of a vicious circle structure, we still have to establish what
esthetic values are — without any references to the notion
of aesthetics. We will not go into the history of semiotic
functions the term or controversies over its scope. We agree
here with Władysław Tatarkiewicz, who claimed that many
aesthetic terms are summative terms, that is, such that its
scope is a sum of a few sub–scopes. “esthetic” — means:
concerning beauty or art; “esthetic value” is beauty or a
component of beauty — or (any) value of a work of art.
Chopin did not write any systematic aesthetic treatises.
On the basis of the surviving Esquisses pour une méthode
de piano one can imagine how the treatise would have been
written (Chopin 1993, p. 48):
1. A separate (abstract) sound does not make music, just like a separate
word does not make a language.
2. Many sounds are needed to make music.
3. Between any two sounds one of them is higher and the other one
lower.
4. In order to record music on paper, one needs to use lines laid out
according to the pitch.
5. Since the relationship between sounds indicates which one is higher
and which one is lower, one can imagine infinitely high or infinitely low
sounds.
6. In the multitude of sounds we find a range in which the vibrations
are the most audible to us.
What strikes us is how to the point, concise and accurate
these formulations are — no sign of quasi–theoretical «mysticism». let us remember: Chopin had the need to express
his thoughts in a precise way, in speech as well as in music.
When he was composing, he looked for each phrase for a
long time. When he was speaking or writing, he took his
time to find the most suitable phrases. But when he found
them — they were the most accurate phrases and words.
Here he was following elsner’s example, who wrote about
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himself in connection to the publication of Rozprawa o
rytmiczności (elsner 1818, p. 2):
Although in the long period of research on music and rhythmic, the
latter of which a poet has at his disposal, thanks to the Polish language,
to beautify poems in a musical sense, I tried to comply with Horace’s
principle of nonum prematur in Annom, I nevertheless believed that one
needs even more time to explicate the issue with such intelligibility, ease
and accuracy which would satisfy a connoisseur and a reader. Thus I
confess that I would not have attempted to have this dissertation published
if I had not been repeatedly called to do it.
Chopin’s aesthetic treatise would surely belong to analytical aesthetics — one could say (if the word did not have
negative connotations for some), «positivist». It would only
refer to things perceptible to scientific knowledge.
Which views would be presented in the treatise can be
partly reconstructed from on the basis of Chopin’s explicit
aesthetic remarks, scattered — apart from the Esquisses —
in his letters, and from recounts of the people who were in
direct contact with him.
Chopin’s implicit aesthetics is outlined by his works: the
values he achieved in his musical pieces.
Chopin’s aesthetics is, most of all, the aesthetics of music.
We know little of his views on other domains of art; unfortunately not many of his drawings have survived to this day;
the accounts of his public acting are also scarce (although
on the basis of some witnesses’ accounts we can assume that
Chopin was highly talented also in these fields).
One has to remember that in the field of music Chopin
actually represented two different arts: he was both a composer and a pianist. We should devote our attention to both of
these components individually. Sadly, Chopin’s pianist skills
are only known from descriptions; in his times it was impossible to preserve musical performances for posterity through
recording. However, there remain the recordings of raoul
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Koczalski, a disciple of Karol Mikuli, who was said to have
played in a style which was exceptionally «Chopin–like».
let us try to reconstruct Chopin’s views on art in general
and his remarks on art criticism, and then — the «world of values» of Chopin–the–pianist and Chopin–the–composer.
2. Creator
Chopin considered music art along with painting, sculpture
and architecture. He wrote ironically about the english
people’s attitude to the former in a letter of October 21,
1848, to Grzymała:
Here [i.e. in england] art is painting, wood–carving and architecture.
Music is not an art and is not called art, and if you call someone an
artist, the english would immediately think: a painter, an architect or a
wood–carver. Whereas music is just a profession, not an art, and no one
will call a musician an artist, because in their language and tradition it is
different from art, it is a profession.
Chopin drew a thick line between art and craft as well as
between high arts and applied arts. In the domain of music
it was visible in his clear distinction between artistic music
and music e.g. for dancing. He sometimes performed the
other kind. However, in a letter to his family, of December
22, 1831, he stressed the fact that his new mazurkas are
“unfitting for dance” any more. In his opus pieces, that is
the ones which he wanted to sign with his name and leave
to the future generations, he only included examples of
artistic music.
What was Chopin’s attitude to the arts he himself did
not practise?
There are contradictory records of his attitude to painting. On the one hand, according to Mrs. Sand, he was not
familiar with arts other than music. In her accounts, he
valued his friend of the later years of his life, Delacroix, as
a person rather than a painter. Chopin’s letter of August 30,
1846, to Franchomme, seems to confirm this, as he wrote
about Delacroix:
He is an artist worthy of the highest praise — I spent some wonderful
moments with him. He loves Mozart and knows all his operas by heart.
Chopin valued Delacroix for his personality and… his
musicality. However, it is possible that Mrs. Sand’s ironic
statements on the topic are what they are because Chopin
did not admire her own artistic output. Admittedly, he
wrote with approval about some of her texts, but he valued
them for the theme (Mickiewicz) rather than their literary
value as such.
On the other hand, we know from his letters that painting made a great impression on Chopin. In a letter to his
parents he described in detail his trip to an art gallery in
vienna (unfortunately the description did not survive) and
in another letter he mentioned that he went to the gallery
in Dresden twice. He wrote about it in a letter of September
12, 1829, to Woyciechowski:
The gallery is marvellous.
Pan Tadeusz). However, he disliked Słowacki’s works (incidentally, the feeling was mutual). Chopin’s literary tastes were
thus explained by Iwaszkiewicz (1955, pp. 153 and 105):
The realism of Pan Tadeusz suited him, he did not understand Słowacki.
He to laughed up his sleeve over Towiański and his disciples. He treated
romantic authors with reserve. […]
He made intentional references to romanticism in literature: “…That
crossbow! — how romance!”
Chopin was widely regarded as a typical romantic artist.
Indeed, there were quite a lot of romantic features in his attitude
and personality, although he just naturally had them and did
not acquire them under the influence of some «ideological»
impulses. As Władysław Tatarkiewicz wrote, it was a parallel,
rather than causal, relationship (Tatarkiewicz 1963, p. 737):
It was a kind of a parallel relationship […] of his moral attitude, his
outlook on life, the world, arts […]. The core of the parallelism was that the
philosophy of Chopin’s times, and not only one that was relatively closer
to him, was just like his music, characterised with grandeur, creativity,
inspiration, new ideas. It might be the only thing they had in common,
but it is quite a lot nevertheless.
In a letter of November 14, 1830, to his family, he noted:
I did not go to see anything again in Dresden except for the art gallery;
it’s enough to see Grüne Gewölbe once, but I saw the picture gallery again
with great interest. If I lived here, I would go there every week.
So Chopin had to value painting after all. Perhaps he
was unacquainted to some degree with art contemporary
to him: romantic art.
Chopin’s attitude to romantic literature was ambivalent.
According to Mickiewicz, Chopin made deliberate references
to it in his works. He cultivated friendship with Mickiewicz
himself and he valued his works very highly (Dziady, Ballads,
It is worth remembering, however, that he accepted only
some features of romanticism. A large part of its musical
«ideology» was foreign to him, e.g. monumental, «fantasy»,
programme music in the sphere of composition, and pure,
empty virtuosity in the sphere of execution. This is how
Iwaszkiewicz commented on it (1955, p. 153):
Chopin’s materialistic scepticism made him approach with distrust
all that was mystic, fantastic, blurred in romanticism.
Chopin was not very familiar with the «metaphysical»
aesthetics of romanticism. What is more, many of Chopin’s
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statements prove that his largely rational attitude to reality
(which did not interfere with his great sensitivity) would
not let him accept this aesthetics. One has to agree with
Władysław Tatarkiewicz, who writes (1963, p. 737):
even if he knew [it], the philosophy contemporary to him had to be
largely unfamiliar to him.
Chopin possessed many features of a stereotypical artist
of his times. He was unusually sensitive, he lived in exile
and missed his country and his family terribly, he was in
love several times but all his relationships ultimately ended
badly. Finally, he was terminally ill and struggled with his
disease throughout his life with almost superhuman effort.
yet, did Chopin really fit the stereotype of a romantic artist in every respect? A romantic artist is a person who is,
most of all, guided by inspiration, who creates in a surge
of emotional frenzy, closed to the world. Was Chopin this
kind of artist?
Many of his contemporaries believed so. For example,
Mickiewicz wrote (Pigoń (ed.) 1958, p. 209):
Chopin speaks with passion and gives us Ariel’s [scil. angel’s] view
of the world.
What did Chopin himself think of it? He did not question the importance of inspiration, but he added (Chopin
1949, p. 310–311):
There are moments for every artist when inspiration drops and pure
mind’s work begins. When you take the notes in your hand, you can even
point your finger at such places. What matters is to have as much inspiration as possible and as little work as possible. […] If an elaborate work
looks like an improvisation, the impression you will make is the greatest.
This is why you have to note down all your inspired ideas immediately.
you know yourself it is not easy as they can disappear in a flash. And then
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you have to remember them with great precision. In short, you see, I deal
with catching the slightest shadows of inspiration and they, scoundrels,
slip away like fleas.
This is why an artist needs such features as patience
and persistence in seeking perfection, combined with the
knowledge of one’s own shortcomings. Cecylia Działyńska
related Marcelina Czartoryska’s comments (Działyńska 1926,
p. 4),
Moral qualities: dependability, persistence in working, caution, subtlety,
and most of all, being strong–willed, are of great consequence here.
Striving for mastery and the awareness of his predisposition
was manifested, among other things, in the fact that Chopin
confined himself to composing (almost) exclusively for piano.
This is what he wrote to Potocka (Chopin 1949, p. 310–311):
I know my limitations and I realise I would make a fool of myself if I
aimed and placed myself too high without the necessary skills. They keep
pestering me to write symphonies and even operas, and various other kinds
of compositions; they would like to make me a Polish rossini, Mozart
and Beethoven, all in one.7 And I laugh silently and think that you have
to start with small things. I’m only a pianist; if I’m worth something, that
is good; greater ones will come after me, ones who will see music in a
wider perspective; with them, Polish music will develop and flourish. I
think it is better not to do a lot, but do it as well as I can, than to try to
do it all, badly. I will always adhere to this principle. […] I don’t even
see myself as the John the Baptist of the Polish music, but I would like to
live to the day when one comes. I just want to write and leave behind the
base of what is truly and fundamentally Polish, and teach to reject false
Polish values. Maybe I will succeed somehow.
7
This was probably an allusion to H. Heine’s words, who wrote in a
correspondence from Paris to Augsburger Allgemeine Zeitung (Czartkowski &
Jeżewska 1957, p. 256), “Chopin is a genial musical poet, whose name deserves
to be mentioned only together with Beethoven, Mozart and rossini”.
He did not write any great symphony or opera which
would probably bring him greater fame in his lifetime and
which he was expected to compose. He probably did not
find out that in vilna, in 1848, a première of the first version of Halka by Stanisław Moniuszko took place — as it
turned out, the real “John the Baptist” of Polish operatic
music. Poland had to wait for more than half a century for
the real “John the Baptist” of Polish symphonic music. That
proved to be Mieczysław Karłowicz, who started his great
and tragically disrupted symphonic work with the poem,
Powracające fale [The Returning Waves], Op. 9, in 1904. It
was probably no accident that in the same year Karłowicz
published Nie wydane dotychczas pamiątki po Chopinie…
[The Yet Unpublished Souvenirs of Chopin…]
Chopin additionally justified his choice — limiting himself to piano compositions — by his inability to gain adequate
experience in the area of larger forms and a greater number
of instruments, that is, the ability to hear his own symphonic
or operatic attempts. It is perhaps worth mentioning that
other Polish composers in the 19th century, when Poland
was under occupation, faced the same problems. Some even
claim this to be the reason why none of the Polish symphony
composers realised their potential fully. Chopin wrote in a
letter of December 14, 1831, to elsner:
To become a great composer, one would need immense experience,
which, as you taught me, one gains not only through listening to others
but above all by listening to performances of one’s own pieces.
With the perspective enabled by two hundred years distance, we can certainly say that Chopin made the right
choice.
3. Perception
One should include Chopin’s opinions on art criticism in
his general aesthetic views.
Chopin kept his distance from music critics. He realised
that secondary issues determine critics’ judgements. In a
letter of June 20, 1826, to Białobłocki, he wrote:
The audience in Warsaw, which is used to rossini’s light songs, will
praise the first performance, not out of their own conviction, but rather following the opinions of experts, because Weber is praised everywhere.
One might get an impression that Chopin, knowing his
own worth (and even genius), did not count on the critics
to judge his compositions fairly. Norwid captured this idea
in a fitting metaphor: they had to wait for “a late grandson”
— and they saw it happen.
People close to Chopin stressed the fact that Chopin was
very far from flattering the critics and he avoided all kinds
of advertising. Admittedly, there was a period when Chopin
recognised the need for «meeting high society», which could
have given him good press. He wrote ironically in a letter of
the middle of January, 1833, to Dziewanowski:
I entered the high society, I mingle with ambassadors, princes, ministers, and I do not even know how on earth it happened, as I did not
ask to be here. It is the most useful thing for me now, for this is where
good taste is supposed to form: you immediately have more talent if you
were heard in the english or Austrian embassy; you play better if you are
Princess vaudémont’s protege.
He was aware of the fact that an artist’s success depends
on many factors — apart from talent, he needs a patron.
Success also depends on the choice of repertoire. In his letters
of May 13, and June 2, 1848, to Grzymała, he wrote:
There [in the london Philharmonic Hall] you have to play Mozart,
Beethoven or Mendelssohn, and although the directors and others tell
me that they had already played my concertos there, and with success, I
would rather not, since nothing may come out of it. […]
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I do not want to play in the Philharmonic Hall, as it will not bring
any money, only a lot of trouble: one rehearsal, and a public one, and you
have to play Mendelssohn to be hugely successful.
Ignaz Moscheles was prejudiced against him. He wrote
about Chopin in his Notes in 1833 and after Chopin’s death
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska, pp. 331 and 336):
In a letter of November 22, 1848, to Solange, he did not
hesitate to give her the following advice:
In my free time I often play Chopin’s etudes and other compositions
in the evening; there is great appeal in their originality and a taste of
national motives, but my thoughts, and then my fingers, struggle with
some harsh, non–artistic, difficult–to–understand modulations; the
whole piece often seems too sentimental, inappropriate for a man and a
well–educated musician. […]
He was not a classic musician, he did not leave behind any great
musical pieces, but he was in possession of remarkable qualities: feeling,
sensitivity and originality.
your husband’s sculpture, even a most beautiful one, has to be praised
a lot in order to be pronounced beautiful. Then it is enough to say that it is
his work, and it will be admired by all. First of all, it has to be appreciated
by the great princes and peers of england.
Critics generally valued Chopin highly, but there were
exceptions. Chopin commented on some critical remarks
in a letter of March 7, 1830, to Woyciechowski:
Now I can feel it stronger than ever: one who could accommodate all
tastes has not been born yet.
He also knew that reviews were sometimes written by
dilettantes and they have little to do with «music reality».
The following event, described in a letter of April 10, 1830,
to Woyciechowski, is illustrative of this:
Dziennik Urzędowy [The Public Journal] also devoted a few pages to my
eulogy, but also published such well–meant rubbish in one of the issues, that
I was desperate until I read the reply in Gazeta Polska [The Polish Gazette],
where they most rightly withdrew the other one’s overstatements.
German critics treated Chopin’s compositions with reserve. Chopin remembered in his letter of November 9,
1830, to his family:
The Germans were surprised by my playing at the rehearsal: “Was für
ein leichtes Spiel hat er”, they said, and nothing about the composition.
even Tytus heard them say that I “can play, but not compose”.
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Chopin’s most fervent critic was a German, ludwig rellstab, who wrote a malicious comment about his Nocturnes,
Op. 9 (Czartkowski & Jeżewska, 1957, p. 447):
Wherever Field smiles, Mr. Chopin makes sneering faces; when Field
sighs, Mr. Chopin groans; when Mr. Field shrugs, Mr. Chopin makes faces;
when Field adds a pinch of root spices to a dish, Mr. Chopin sprinkles
everything with bucket-loads of Cayenne [scil. Turkish] pepper.
He also passed his judgement on Chopin’s etudes (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 447),
Whoever has crooked fingers, he will certainly straighten them playing
these etudes; those who have straight fingers, on the other hand, should
be careful and avoid playing them.
It is hard to believe now that anyone would present such
an opinion in earnest. We can count it as some kind of a victory of Chopin’s music that a few years later rellstab changed
his mind and appreciated Chopin’s compositions.
Also Schumann’s attitude towards Chopin’s compositions was specific; incidentally, it developed in the opposite
direction of rellstab’s. For the longest time the German composer wrote only the best reviews, and his attitude towards
Chopin’s compositions was best reflected in the frequently
quoted words: “Gentlemen, hats off — this is a genius!” (as
a commentary to Variation, Op. 2). However, Chopin’s later
compositions were a mystery to Schumann, and their assessment was varied. Although he remained greatly impressed
by Chopin’s work, he wrote very harsh reviews. He wrote
about the finale of Sonata in B–flat minor that it is devoid
of melody and joy, that there is something off–putting to it,
and even — that it was not music any more.
liszt invariably assessed Chopin’s work positively, stressing, among other things, Chopin’s «thematic» musical creativity (1852/1960, p. 48):
It is certainly not a trivial thing, that Chopin’s ability to put each theme
in turn in any possible variation it could appear in; he can extract the
whole splendor and glory as well as a hidden sadness.
Mrs. Sand echoed his words, writing with exaggeration
which was so characteristic to her in a letter of May 28, 1843,
to Delacroix (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 96):
Chopin composed two gorgeous mazurkas [scil. from Op. 50], which
are worth more than forty romances and express more than all the
literature of the century.
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Chapter XI. Performance
1. Self–esteem and testimonies
1.1. In his own eyes
Chopin was aware of his «shortcomings» as a pianist. He
wrote about it with characteristic detachment in a letter of
December 13, 1831, to elsner:
I could not see in my eye that log which prevents me from aiming
higher today.
However, generally he had a high opinion of himself as
a pianist.
After coming to Paris (where he met all the famous pianists of his time) he wrote openly — in a letter of November
18, 1831, to Kumelski — that only Friedrich Wilhelm Kalkbrenner clearly surpasses him:
I am very close to Kalkbrenner, the first pianist of europe, who you
would surely get to like. (He is the only one whose shoes I am not worthy
to kiss.)
But Chopin remembered with some satisfaction — in
a letter of December 12, 1831 — that Kalkbrenner made a
mistake in his presence:
Mr. Kalkbr[enner] was astounded [by my Concerto in E minor] and
immediately asked me if I am by any chance Field’s student, that my playing
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is Cramerian and my strike is Fieldian. […] It made me happy in my soul,
[…] and even more so, when Kalkbr[enner] sat down and began to play,
and wanting to show off in front of me, he made a mistake and had to
stop playing! But you would have to hear him when he started again; I
have never even been able to imagine anything like that.
let us remember that Chopin lived and worked in the times
of great virtuosos. He also had a lot of admiration for them.
He listened with admiration to Paganini (to whom he devoted
one of his pieces, Variations), he was entranced by Kalkbrenner,
writing in a letter of December 12, 1831, to Woyciechowski:
If Paganini is perfect, then Kalkbrenner is his equivalent, but of
another kind entirely. It is hard to describe to you that calmness of his,
that magical touch — incredible balance and mastery visible in each one
of his sounds — he is a colossus treading on Herz, Czerny, etc., and at
the same time, also me.
We know that Kalkbrenner proposed Chopin a three–
year study with him. We also know that Chopin’s family and
elsner intervened and in the end Chopin did not accept this
offer. Anyway, Kalkbrenner soon became aware of Chopin’s
great talent. How much he valued Chopin (as a pianist and
a composer), still many years later, is visible in his letter of
December 25, 1845:
Dearest Chopin! I would like to ask you a great favor: my son Arthur
intends to play your beautiful Sonata in B–flat minor and would very much
like you to give him some advice, so that he could fully understand your
intentions. you know how I adore your talent and I do not think I even
have to express how grateful I would be for this great favor I am asking
for my little urchin.
He valued Kalkbrenner even more that liszt, although
when commenting on the latter, he showed him great respect.
He wrote in a letter of June 20, 1833, to Feliks Wodziński:
I am writing not knowing what my pen is scribbling, as at this very
moment liszt is playing my etudes and brings me beyond the realm of
reasonable thought. I wish I could steal from him his way of playing my
own pieces.
This is what he wrote about a pianist, his rival, Thalberg,
in a letter of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński:
The ladies like him, he adds piano with the pedal and not his hand, he
plays decimas just like octaves, he has diamond shirt buttons.
It is worth noting that Chopin assessed other instrumentalists, as well as singers, in a similar manner. In the latter,
he valued most of all the beauty of the tone of their voice
and emotionality apart from their technical skills. He wrote
about his “ideal”, Gładkowska, in a letter of August 21, 1830,
to Woyciechowski:
Gładkowska lacks little. She is better on a stage than in a concert hall.
I am not talking about her acting, which is superb, I have to admit, but
about her singing, if not for her F–sharp and G sometimes, she would be
the best of her kind. Her phrasing would delight you, her modulation is
excellent, and although her voice was shaky at the very beginning, later
she sang very boldly.
He also raved about Parisian singers. In a letter of December 12, 1831, to Woyciechowski he wrote:
you cannot imagine how wonderful that lablache is! They say that
Pasta lost, but as for me, I have not seen anything more sublime. She only
manages Malibran with her wondrous voice, and she sings like no other!
Marvellous! Marvellous! rubini is an excellent tenor, he sings real, not
with a falsetto, and he sometimes does quick passages for two hours (but
sometimes he uses the vibrato for too long and makes his voice shake on
purpose, and apart from that he trills without end; admittedly, he gets
the loudest applause for that).
However, his opinion on Sabine Heinefetter included in
a letter of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński seems to be
the most significant:
The kind of voice I will not get to hear again anytime soon — everything well sung, each note precisely timed; a clean, flexible portamento
— but it was all so cold that it almost froze my nose off.
1.2. In the eyes of others
What did Chopin’s listeners used to say about his playing?
There remain quite a few of these accounts, and moreover,
they are exceptionally univocal, which lets us suppose they
are not false. At the same time, these descriptions leave
us with only a vague impression of what Chopin’s playing
was really like. Perhaps this was one of the reasons for his
reserved attitude towards other people’s judgements, which
Schumann described on September 12, 1836:
He listens reluctantly when you talk about his pieces.
One has to remember there were a few embodiments
of Chopin–the–pianist. He showed the public a different
aspect of himself during large public concerts, of which he
only gave about thirty during his lifetime (among these: 5
in Warsaw, one respectively in Duszniki and Wrocław, 3
or 4 in vienna, one in Munich, 12 in Paris, 3 in london,
one in rouen, Manchester, Glasgow and edinburgh), and
a different aspect — during small, «private», concerts,
when he played for high society, first in Warsaw and
then in Paris.
The fact that he almost completely ceased to give public
concerts in large concert halls was probably connected to
one of his concerts in Paris, the only one which ended in
failure, in 1835, if we do not count his first public concert
in Warsaw, which Skrodzki remembered many years later
(1962, pp. 114–115):
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We still remember […] Chopin’s first concert, which left the audience
indifferent. The Great Theatre was empty, most people present got the
tickets for free or were his close friends or acquaintances.
It is a fact that since 1835, Chopin practically resigned
from giving concerts and focussed on composing. The other
reason for Chopin’s reluctance to perform in large concert
halls and in front of big audiences was that he was tremendously self–critical and a perfectionist in interpretation. This
is why he suffered from stage–fright before each performance
and he was irritable (of which we have reliable accounts,
since he wreaked his anger on his surroundings).
It is clear that Chopin had never liked large audiences. He
performed in public because this was the requirement of his
profession. His great sensitivity made him feel overwhelmed
by the hundreds of onlookers. One can guess that the 19th–
century audiences behaved in a somewhat less civilised
manner during a concert than a contemporary philharmonic
audience. Chopin’s attitude to concerts is revealed in Mrs.
Sand’s words from a letter of April 18, 1841, to Grzymała:
He does not want posters, he does not want programmes. So many
things scare him that I suggested that he played without any candles,
without an audience and in front of a mute piano.
Chopin’s words, noted by liszt, confirm this (1852/1879,
p. 119):
I am no good with publicity — the auditorium intimidates me, I suffocate in the breath of the crowd, curious looks petrify me, strange faces
compel me to keep silent.
In later years he gave smaller concerts, specially organised
by the owner of a piano factory, Pleyel. This is what Chopin
wrote about preparations for one such concert in a letter to
his family, of February 11, 1848:
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The tickets were sold out a week ago, and all of the tickets cost 20
fr. each. The audience is signing up for a second one (which I had not
thought about). The court demanded 40 tickets and they only wrote in
newspapers that I may give a concert and my impresario got messages
asking for reservations from Brest and Nantes. I am surprised by such
empressement [zeal] and now I have to play at least to have a clear
conscience, even though I feel that my playing is worse than before. […]
There will be no posters or free tickets. The concert hall is comfortable
and we can fit in 300 people. Pleyel keeps making fun of my silliness
and will decorate the stairs with flowers, as an encouragement. I will feel
at home here and my eyes will meet almost exclusively familiar faces. I
already got the piano which I am going to play on.
He was completely consumed with playing and giving concerts exhausted him mentally and physically. After a concert it took a long time before he regained his
strength and before he could make contact with the «outside
world».
Chopin gave concerts for his closest friends almost until
the end of his life, when he was strong enough. We know
how much these concerts mattered for the people near
him from their own accounts. Marquis de Custine wrote
to Chopin in 1837:
Please save your strength for your friends: the possibility of listening
to you is sometimes the only consolation in the face of those difficult
days that are to come; only art, the way you feel it, will manage to bring
together people divided by harsh reality; people love and understand
each other through Chopin.
Also, Chopin’s students remembered that he played the
most beautifully during the lessons.
Critics and music lovers agree in their opinions that
Chopin was one of the best — if not the best — pianists of his
time. Schumann wrote in a letter of September 14, 1836, to
Heinrich ludwig Dorn (Sydow (ed.) 1955, vol. I, p. 286):
[Chopin] played loads of etudes, mazurkas and nocturnes for me, all
of it unrivalled. The mere sight of him by the piano is moving.
would be striking — but with an almost ironic naivety he tries to engage
the gathered audience with mere music as such.
At the same time, it was stressed that he was very different
from all the contemporary virtuosos. The difference found
its expression in the comparisons of Balzac, Heine and
Moscheles (Tomaszewski 2010, pp. 98, 89 and 86):
The article in the Powszechny Dziennik Krajowy [Universal Polish Daily] of March 19, 1830, keeps the same spirit
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 116):
you cannot judge liszt before you get to hear Chopin. […] The
Hungarian is a demon, the Pole is an angel. […]
Apart from […] [liszt], other pianists do not count except one: Chopin,
the raphael of the piano. […]
[Chopin] does not make use of any of the orchestral effects assumed
by the German school; he acts like a singer focussed on expressing
feelings.
His modesty was always hidden behind a greater or lesser splendor
of harmony, depending on the need. It seems like his playing spoke to
us: it is not me, it is the music!
This remained true for Chopin’s whole life. Charles Gavard
wrote the same thing in his letter of April, 1848, to James F.
[?] Hall (Sydow (ed.), vol. II, p. 240):
Chopin is very modest. […] Publicity scares him.
2. Features and peculiarities
What did the «angelic» and «raphaelite» qualities of Chopin’s
play consist of? How did Chopin incorporate poetry in his
playing?
2.1. «Modesty»
First of all, Chopin avoided any kind of empty virtuosity,
which was manifested in excessive, and especially clownish
(implying: liszt’s) gesticulation, exaggeratedly showing
off one’s technique, etc. In his opinion, the «content» of
the music should be delivered through its sounds and not
visual effects.
Critics called his manner of playing «modest» for a reason.
Wiener Theaterzeitung of August 20, 1829, wrote (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 107–108):
His manner of playing, as well as his compositions, […] are characterised with a sort of modesty, thanks to which one gets an impression
that this young man does not really wish to seem great — even though he
overcame such difficulties, which even here, in the land of piano virtuosos,
It seems certain that Chopin was born with an amazing,
so called, technical ease. He was self–taught to a large extent.
Żywny, his piano teacher, was not considered to be an outstanding tutor. However, certainly his great contribution was to notice
his student’s extraordinary talent and let him develop on his
own. reviewers admired the technical aspect of Chopin’s playing, although they stressed that he never exhibited it. Surely then
there was nothing in Chopin’s playing to give rise to complaints
about his technique. On the other hand, Chopin himself was
aware of certain shortcomings (e.g. of a relatively weak fourth
finger). At the same time, he knew that he could conceal these
shortcomings by submitting to his instinct. (Certainly many
pianists know the feeling — when his heart leads the way, his
fingers follow more willingly…) That Chopin’s technique was
subject to inspiration — seems clear from a statement included
in a letter of December 12, 1831, to Woyciechowski:
Meanwhile [Kalkbrenner] convinced me that I can play beautifully when I
am inspired, and poorly when I am not — something which never happens.
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2.2. «Gentleness» and «timbreness»
However, it was not the technical aspect of Chopin’s playing which aroused the greatest admiration among the
listeners. The extraordinary qualities of his playing were,
to a larger degree, based on the subtlety and beauty of
the sound. let us quote in turn Allgemeine Musikalische
Zeitung from leipzig and its account of the concert in
vienna on September 1, 1829, an opinion of critics from
Gazeta Korespondenta Warszawskiego i Zagranicznego [The
Warsaw and Foreign Correspondent Gazette] (Franciszek
Salezy Dmochowski), Powszechny Dziennik Krajowy on
March 19, 1830, and a correspondent of Flora from Munich
on August 30, 1831 (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 109,
116 and 154),
As an executor [scil. performer, Chopin] surpasses even Hummel
in the subtlety of feeling and the elegance of taste; even if he did not
match him in technique and balance of tempo, then he is unmatched
by all the others.
The veritable gentleness of his strike, the unsurpassable technical
proficiency, his perfect dynamic shading which comes from the deepest
feeling, the continuity and rise of tones, a rare clarity of interpretation
[…] let us recognise an artist in this […] virtuoso, who […] appears in
the musical scene as one of the brightest meteors. […]
The character of Mr. Chopin’s style in composition is soft and delicate.
[…]
Apart from the great proficiency, the delightful gentleness of [Mr.
Chopin’s] playing was immediately apparent, as well as a characteristic
method of highlighting motifs.
Paying attention to the beauty of the tone was «inborn» for Chopin and he consciously recognised it as a
priority even when he was a young pianist. It was tied to
the specific requirements for the instruments he played
on. As early as 1828 he wrote in a letter of August 12, to
elsner:
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I lack one thing only, which all the beauty of Duszniki cannot replace,
that is a good instrument. Imagine that there is not one good piano here,
and the instruments which I saw, gave me more distress than pleasure.
Only in Paris did Chopin learn about Pleyel’s instruments,
which he loved, as they satisfied him more with the quality
of their sound. liszt remembered (1852/1879, p. 146):
[Pleyel’s] instruments were Chopin’s favorite because of their somewhat
subdued, silvery sound and the softness of the keys.
Chopin himself spoke simply of Pleyel’s piano: “It has my
sound” (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 143).
Chopin was often criticised for the gentleness and transience of his tone. A reviewer in Wiener Theaterzeitung
wrote after a concert on August 20, 1829 (Czartkowski &
Jeżewska 1957, p. 107):
His strike, however graceful and steady, has little of that brilliance
which our virtuosos ordinarily show already in the first few bars.
Chopin’s comment — in a letter of August 12, 1829, to
Feliks Wodziński — was as follows:
It was a common objection that I played too softly, or rather too
delicately for those used to local artists banging on the pianos. I expect a
similar objection in the newspaper, especially since the editor’s daughter
hammers on the instrument terribly. That is all right; after all, it’s impossible not to have any objections, and I’d rather hear this one than if they
said that I play too heavily.
Following his concerts in Warsaw he wrote in a letter of
March 27, 1838, to Woyciechowski:
Mochnacki in Kurier Polski praised me in excess, especially the Adagio,
and then advises more energy. — I guessed where the energy lives and in
the second concert I played on a viennese instrument, not on mine. Well,
what applause, what praise that each note was perfectly played and that I
played better on the second one than on the first one, to speak nothing of
the uproar after the bows, and people demanding a third concert.
Neither did he like the heavy, loud playing of other pianists.
He wrote in a letter of August 26, 1829, to his family:
I happened to meet Pixis on his stairs. — I listened to him play his
Fugues for about two hours. […] He plays nicely, but I long for something
better (quieter).
What Chopin really cared about was the «timbreness» of
play. Delacroix wrote about it (1932, vol. III, p. 99):
My dear, small Chopin rebelled against the method in which the effect
of the music depends to a large extent on the tone inherent to particular
instruments.
What Chopin meant is that there is no one piano timbre,
but that one can «conjure up» many different timbres from
the instrument by striking the keys in an appropriate manner.
The students certify that Chopin was able to demonstrate to
them twenty different ways to strike, which in effect gave
twenty different variations of tone in a given sound. These ways
varied, from “flying” over the keyboard with “velvet fingers”,
which Henrietta voigt wrote about (Diary, 14 September
1836; see Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, pp. 254–255), and
the famous “thundering” (Chopin’s own expression from a
letter of December 26, 1830, to Matuszyński). Jean–Jacques
eigeldinger called it “the art of almost legendary nuance”
(1987, p. 147–148). Le Pianiste wrote about it after a concert
on February 22, 1835 (eigeldinger 1987, pp. 165–166):
Chopin’s talent […] is so subtle, so full of inconceivable nuances, that
only a sensitive and trained ear is able to catch them.
2.3. «Spirituality»
Finally — the most important aspect of Chopin’s playing was
emotional saturation of his performances. In that, he was a
true disciple of elsner, who wrote in a letter of November
27, 1831, to Chopin:
Playing an instrument, even the most perfect, […] is in itself thought
to be only a means of expressing feelings in the field of music.
One of the first people who paid attention to it was
Mochnacki. He wrote in Kurier Polski from March 29, 1830
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 118):
[Chopin’s] execution was full of feeling and expression, it overcame
even the greatest difficulties with ease, so that the listener was unaware
of them; combined with a beautiful composition, it had to engage the
audience in the performance.
Chopin’s playing was “full of feeling and expression”, touching
and moving — but not overly affected (Kleczyński 1979, p. 59).
The kinds of feelings he conveyed were clear for his listeners.
There is proof of that in the words of Marquis de Custine in a
letter of 1837 to Chopin, in Gazeta Warszawska of 18 March 18,
1830, and in the account of voigt (Diary, September 14, 1836)
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, pp. 114–115 and 254–255):
you have reached the peak of suffering and poetry; the melancholy
of your pieces penetrates the heart more deeply; the listener is lonely
together with you, even among the crowds; it is not a piano any more, it
is — a soul, and what a soul! […]
Mr. Chopin possesses all the qualities characteristic of a piano virtuoso
in the highest degree: the power, the fluency and, above all, the feeling
— constitute his greatest advantage; each striking of the keys is for him
an expression of his heart. […]
An intriguing man [i.e. Chopin], and his playing is even more intriguing. He made a singular impression on me. The over–sensitivity
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of his playing is contagious for an absorbed listener — I honestly held
my breath.
rosengardt–Zaleska, noted in her Pamiętniki [Memoirs]
(Tomaszewski 2010, p. 13):
One of the sources of the emotional saturation of Chopin’s
playing was his imagination, which affected him strongly
when he was playing his own pieces.
The images he envisaged sometimes became nightmares.
We know from Mrs. Sand’s recount that they appeared
during their stay in Majorca (Chopin was then composing
Scherzo in C–sharp minor and Ballad in F major). The fact
that there was no exaggeration in the writer’s account is
supported by Chopin’s own words in a letter of September
9, 1848, to Solange, about the performance of Sonata in
B–flat minor:
During a lesson he occasionally had “wild, unpleasant, bad, angry
moments, in which he broke chairs, stamped his feet” (such lessons were
called “leçons orageuses”).
I was going to start playing a march, when suddenly I saw horrible
apparitions coming out of the half–opened piano; one evening I saw them
in Chartreuse. I had to go out for a while to pull myself together.
3. Rules and guidelines
Also Chopin’s didactic recommendations say a lot about
his play. Chopin — first burdened with social duties and
a teacher’s responsibilities, then bedridden — did not
manage to give a fully organised shape to his pedagogical
ideas. Therefore one has to do it for him at one’s own risk.
After all, it is not a hopeless project: whatever remained
from Esquisses, you can complete to a large extent with
statements made by Chopin himself and his students, and
he taught more than a hundred. Some of them made notes
during the lessons, others described their impressions in
memoirs. In the eyes of his students Chopin was an excellent teacher, and lessons with Chopin were popular not only
because it was fashionable to be his student. They simply
were, even though Chopin, normally so calm and gentle,
sometimes went berserk during lessons with less gifted
students. Chopin’s student — and his friend’s wife — Zofia
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Thus we have a sufficient foundation to reconstruct
the principles — and some detailed tips — of Chopin’s
pedagogics.
There are eight of these principles. let us call them in
turn: the “principle of methodical training”; the “principle of
didactic optimism”; the “principle of technical adequacy”; its
two specifications: the “principle of superiority of anatomy”,
and the “principle of optimal motor skills”; also the “principle
of textual precision”; the “principle of stimulating intuition”,
and the “principle of fortitude”.
Here is the substance of these rules, formulated by Chopin
and his students.
3.1. The principle of methodical training
In Esquisses Chopin says to a piano student (1993, p. 42):
excellent lessons of the piano were given to you. you were taught to
read the great masters, to love Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, but you often
feel beautiful music better than you can render the mood with your fingers.
So now, with that thought in my mind, I give you a rough outline of that
mechanical work, which has become so lifeless in our times, out of the
lack of consideration.
He goes on to specify this thought (1993, pp. 91, 85 and
86):
The major obstacle which one comes across in one’s musical development is undoubtedly the stupefying use of all kinds of exercises accumulated with no principle, no method and no justification. […]
Before giving the [technical] principle, it is vital to consider a few
introductory issues which explain it; the issues rest on both the anatomical
analysis of the hand and the tradition, which one can find in the fingering
of the old masters. […]
I never doubted the power of patient and persistent work, even if
it followed the wrong path. However, the balance, the calmness, which
arises from a complete submission to consistent rules cannot be achieved
otherwise. There always remains something uncertain, some kind of
unrest, in a talent developed the untruthful way.
occupy himself with reading a book while practising). Practice should have the pianist’s undivided attention (Chopin
1993, p. 112):
exercises should not be exclusively mechanical, on the contrary, they
require the student’s whole intellect and will.
Kleczyński stressed that Chopin often told his students
to practise piano (Kleczyński 1879, p. 48):
This is exactly why Chopin was opposed to mechanical
training. He told his students to listen intently to the tone
of the instrument — he demanded from them to be fully
focused on what they are playing; Chopin himself — as
listeners attest — always played with full concentration.
Józef Brzowski note in his Dziennik [Diary] from the years
1836–1837 what Chopin looked like when he was playing
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, pp. 212–213):
Frequent resorting to playing piano in order to avoid the heaviness
of the hand constitutes one of the most characteristic and one of the best
features of Chopin’s method.
It is hard to believe how strongly in his [scil. Chopin’s] face, inspired
thought was reflected: pale, with sparkling eyes, absent, you could say he
was dreaming in some magnetic dream.
you know I have done all I was supposed to in order to support your
talent and help to develop it, and that I never contradicted you in any way;
you also know that you devoted little time to the technique of playing
and that your mind worked more than your fingers. When others spent
more time in front of the keyboard, you rarely spent more than one hour
on playing somebody else’s pieces.
One of his students remembered that Chopin advised
him to play in the dark, so that no stimulus from the outside
would distract him (Działyńska 1926, p. 5):
If you can play some piece more or less by heart, practise at night,
in darkness! When your eyes cannot see the notes and the keys, when
everything disappears, this is when the sense of hearing is revealed with
all its sensitivity, this is when you can really hear yourself, notice every
flaw, and the hand gets bold and sure, which it would never get if the
player kept looking at the keys.
He was also opposed to sustained and exclusively mechanical practice (he was outraged with the suggestions to
It is worth adding that Chopin was opposed to practising
for hours on end. We learn from a letter to his father that
Chopin himself practised relatively little. Mikołaj Chopin
wrote to his son on November 27, 1831:
He probably spent the remaining time playing his own
compositions. He advised his students to play three hours a
day but, let us repeat that, engaging their intellect, imagination and will. Also, in these three hours they should find
some time to play Bach every day.
3.2. The principle of didactic optimism
Chopin’s methodology was in principle, so to say, «optimistic». On the one hand, Chopin tried as hard as he could
to make his students, when they were talented enough,
127
believe in their abilities as performers. On the other hand,
this «methodological optimism» had a theoretical foundation related to the «piano mechanism». Chopin wrote in
Esquisses (1993, p. 40):
Because art is infinite within its limited means, one needs to limit
teaching of art to only teaching through the means, in order to practise
it infinitely.
In this brief and, at first glance, somewhat enigmatic
phrase, Chopin expressed a conviction that, just like a finite
number of sounds can be put by a composer in a series (compositions) in an infinite number of ways, it is also enough for
a pianist to learn a finite number of performance «grips» in
order to achieve an infinite number of interpretative effects
with their help.
3.3. The principle of technical adequacy
The substance of the rule of technical adequacy is a principle
of choosing the means that are adequate to the aim. Chopin
writes (1993, pp. 40 et 42):
[you needn’t learn to] walk on your head when you want to go for
a walk. […]
Because intonation results from tuning, the piano is free from one of
the greatest difficulties encountered during the study of other instruments.
Therefore there remains only the study of certain positions of the hand
on the keys, so that one can achieve the best possible quality of sound
with ease, one is able to play long and short sounds, and also, one can
achieve unlimited proficiency.
The technical aspect of playing — that is, as they called it
then, the mechanism of the piano — was treated as a tool by
Chopin. It was the sound effect which was always important
to him, not the way it was achieved. As Princess Czartoryska
said — in the accounts of Działyńska (1926, p. 6):
128
It is the result that matters — Chopin used to say — the aim, the
impression made on the listener, rather than the way the impression
was achieved. you can just as well be dumbstruck by some unexpected
piece of news when you hear it spoken loudly and eagerly, or whispered
straight into your ear.
In his approach to “the mechanism of the piano” Chopin
consciously referred to Muzio Clementi who, being not
only a composer and a teacher but also a constructor, had
an instrumental attitude to these issues.
respect to the Clementi’s school was inculticated by
Chopin in his students. What one of them, Thomas Tellefsen, wrote, could be treated as a reminiscence of Chopin’s
opinion (1993, p. 87–88):
Clementi’s Gradus is the most remarkable didactic piece I know.
[…]
It is true that Clementi, being a pianist, combines the beauty of the
sound with clarity, vigor and brilliance, and he possesses these features
to a higher degree than all his rivals, which of course induces me to opt
for his method.
I admit that after Clementi I notice a growing decadence connected to
the lack of method and principles; the most important questions are left
to coincidence in teaching, the tradition changes and in the end vanishes.
To find this tradition, make it understandable, and most of all, disperse
any doubts in a student’s mind for him to focus on the conscious and
calm work, it would all be a task for a good teacher.
3.4. The principle of superiority of anatomy
The principle of superiority of anatomy adds some details
to the previous principle. Chopin specified it so (1993, pp.
60, 74, 76 and 60):
Thanks to the fact that intonation is provided by tuning, the difficulty
of playing the piano — thanks to the keyboard, which greatly assists the
hand — is much less than we imagine. Obviously, it is not about the
musical feeling, or the style, but a purely technical aspect of playing,
which I call “mechanism”. […]
It seems to me that a well formed mechanism consists in the skilful
swell of a sound of beautiful quality. For a long time, tutors acted against
nature, exercising the fingers in such a way that they gained equal strength.
Considering the fact that each finger was formed in a different way, it is
better not to destroy the charm of the touch of particular fingers, but on
the contrary: to develop them. […]
Just as one should make good use of the shape of the fingers, one
should also use the remaining parts of the hand, like the wrist, the forearm
and the arm. […]
There is no enough admiration for the genius who contributed to
the construction of the keyboard in such accordance to the shape of
the hand.
Accepting the anatomical individuality of the force of the
fingers did not mean, however, that Chopin resigned from
perfecting their autonomy. Kleczyński wrote (1879, p. 48):
Chopin continuously stressed the importance of the freedom of
playing and the independence of the fingers in his teachings.
3.5. The principle of optimal motor skills
We read about the principle of optimal motor skills in Esquisses (1993, p. 88):
The old rule says that one should move as little as possible; it is
excellent but — as it is with all rules — too absolute. Since for people
music is characterised with the most movement of all arts, it would be
strange if a performer, recreating that movement, did not himself move.
Immobility (immobilia), recommended for a student at the beginning,
often corresponds to excessive stiffness. There are some movements which
are simply necessary as they add charm to the performance.
However, Chopin’s students were not allowed to make
any unnecessary movements: he did not allow for any
ostentatious behavior or simply showing off. The pianist
was only an executor of an idea and he was not supposed
to come «before» the performed piece. Chopin did not like
performance mannerisms either.
3.6. The principle of textual precision
Chopin considered absolute faithfulness to the notation to
be an important feature of good piano playing even with
respect to phrasing; let us remember that these were times
when the approach to the score was much more flexible than
today. Działyńska related (Chopin 1993, p. 123):
relability, that is, recreating every dot, every pinpoint, every musical
sign, as if you owed them to somebody — and you couldn’t depart from
it in the slightest degree.
Mikuli added (Chopin 1993, p. 114):
Incorrect phrasing made him use the following simile, which he
repeated often and with pleasure: “It is as if somebody recited a speech
in a foreign language, remembered with difficulty, not only without
observing the natural number of the syllables, but also stopping in the
middle of words. Also a pseudo–musician reveals with his barbaric
phrasing that music does not constitute a natural language to him, but
rather a foreign, incomprehensible tongue. He will be forced to resign
from making any impression whatsoever on his listeners, like a speaker
with his discourse.”
Chopin paid faithful attention to the rhythmic–metric–
agogic marks.
Although the idea of “Chopin’s rubato” tends to come up,
and also Chopin himself used this term, Chopin’s students
stress that he was strictly opposed to tempo rubato — understood as loose approach to the rhythm. Chopin’s rubato is
an even tempo in the accompanying part and some freedom
in the melodic part. As lenz noted, Chopin used to drum
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this idea into his students’ heads (Czartkowski & Jeżewska
1957, p. 417):
The left hand should be the conductor [and keep the tempo]. It may not
shake nor hesitate. Do what you want and what you can with the right.
As we learn from Mikuli’s accounts (Chopin 1993/1995,
p. 98), a metronome always stood on Chopin’s piano in his
salon.
3.7. The principle of stimulating intuition
Chopin believed the use of imagination — musical, but also
extra–musical — to be a contributing factor in good piano
playing. We can find proof of it in the fact that he suggested to
his own students some images, which were supposed to help
them extract the essence of a performed piece. According to
Kleczyński, Chopin suggested to his student — while playing
his Etude in A–flat major — to imagine a shepherd, who sought
shelter from a storm in a grotto and is playing the flute while
listening to the wind from the outside. He compared a fragment
of Sonata in A–flat major by Weber to a flight of an angel. In
turn, during one of his lessons he described the «dialogue»
from his own Nocturne in F–sharp minor as a conversation of
a tyrant with his subject, who is asking for something.
Chopin did not tolerate «spiritless» playing on the part of
his students. He encouraged them (Kleczyński 1879, p. 75):
Invest all your soul in it! Play it as you feel it!
This is reminiscent of Potocki’s comment (1813, p. 3):
It is not enough to stir the ear and to occupy the eye; one has to operate
on the soul and touch the heart while communicating with the mind.
Also Mikuli remembered that Chopin advised him to
analyse the performed pieces in view of the course of feelings
130
they were to express. recreating this course was the key to a
successful interpretation. Incidentally, Chopin used to send
his students to lessons of musical forms (to Henri reber)
and advised them to listen during singing lessons for ways
to perform ornaments by singers. It was, in his opinion, the
best way to understand what legato cantabile is.
3.8. The principle of fortitude
Observing these rules obviously requires a strong will. Therefore Chopin — last but not least — expected pianists to
continuously work on the adequate features of personality:
developing “moral principles”, as he used to call them.
These were: perseverance, caution, the ability to focus,
and above all: the readiness to «forget yourself» in the performed art. Marquis de Custine commented once (1843,
vol. I, p. 331):
Music can make you forget everything.
Chopin could paraphrase these words into: Forget about
everything if you want to give yourself to music.
Chapter XII. Composition
1. Standards
1.1. The process of composing
let us first observe what views on musical compositions are
included in Chopin’s explicit aesthetics.
Chopin spoke little and reluctantly of his own compositions. However, he declared numerous times that he was
aware of the worth of his own compositions. Therefore
Iwaszkiewicz was not entirely right saying (1955, p. 208):
each true artist treats almost all of his own work with disdain and is
rarely satisfied with what he achieved.
The former — probably yes; the latter — not necessarily. It
is not true especially when an artist has a clear vision of how
he wants to create. Chopin certainly had such vision. Mrs.
Sand noted aptly (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 329):
Chopin speaks little and rarely about his work, but when he talks
about it, it is with an admirable exactness and certainty of judgement
and aims.
On the other hand, Chopin’s process of composing was
tedious (unlike e.g. that of Mozart, who was compared to
him, and who wrote practically without crossing out).
He composed in front of the piano. The starting
point for Chopin was improvisation, which he gradually
developed and put into a «formal framework». He experimented with many versions of the same fragment.
The traces of hard creative work and hesitation as to the
final solution can be found in the preserved manuscripts.
Whatever he wrote, he put it aside and let some time pass
before he assessed it. At times he sent three different versions of the same fragment to different publishers (this
is what happened to Nocturne in B major, Op. 61, No.
1, sent in three differing versions to leipzig, Paris and
london). Was it only a question of absentmindedness or
extreme indecision? Or perhaps Chopin simply wanted
to somehow preserve all three versions, considering them
to be equally good.
He wrote about his irresolution as a composer in a letter
of October 11, 1846, to his family:
I am playing some, I am writing some. There are times I am content
with my Sonata with a cello, then at other times I am not. I toss it in
the corner, then I pick it up again. I have three new mazurkas; I do not
think I will [indecipherable word] with old holes, but deciding about
it needs time. When you are working, it seems good, as otherwise you
would never write anything. Only later are there afterthoughts and
you either accept or reject it. Time is the best critic, and patience is
the best teacher.
1.2. Composer’s artistry
Chopin consciously wrote relatively little, however, he did
his best to only release masterpieces. He would never have
chosen quantity over quality. He hated any kind of bungling
and mediocrity. He never composed on commission, never
exclusively for profit (although composing and giving lessons,
apart from the few concerts he gave, were his only sources
of income). The traces of his negotiations with publishers,
who apparently were not aware of what they were publishing,
can be found in correspondence. A fragment of a letter of
October 18, 1841, to Fontana is significant:
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I know I am not selling well. But tell him [scil. Troupenas] that if I
wanted to make a profit on him or deceive him, I would write 15 lame
things a year, which he would buy for 300 each and I would have more
income. Would that be more honest?
The outcome of his work as a composer is (one could
say: merely) ten hours of music. But perhaps it is the best
ten hours ever written.
A few facts indicate that Chopin valued his mature pieces
more than youthful attempts. The reason why he preferred
playing new rather than «old» compositions might be that
playing them was a kind of advertising. But also with his
students later in his life he played recent pieces. With Miss
Stirling, one of his last students, he played several dozen of his
compositions, none of which were from the early period.
1.3. Ideals and anti–ideals
Chopin’s aesthetics was revealed, among other things, in
his attitude to other composers and their compositions. In
the area of explicit aesthetics, some of Chopin’s judgements
can be reconstructed on the basis of his assessment of other
composers’ work. In the area of implicit aesthetics, his attitude towards other artists can be revealed in who Chopin
claimed to be his role model and whose ideas he used while
creating his own compositions. It is striking that there are
almost exclusively German composers on this list. Chopin
did not leave anything to doubt here. lenz heard him say
(Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 413):
There is only one school in music, namely: German.
Characteristically, while Chopin’s judgement was at that
time very strict, and at times even merciless, he gradually
became more lenient with time, perhaps under the influence
of his progressing illness. He himself wrote about it in a letter
of August 18, 1848, to Fontana:
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I have become so forgiving that I could listen to [Wojciech] Sowiński’s
Oratory with pleasure and not die.
1.3.1. Johann Sebastian Bach and Georg Friedrich
Händel
let us start from Bach, since the worship of Bach was perhaps
the most characteristic trait of Chopin. He wrote in one of
his letters to Potocka (Chopin 1949, p. 309):
Bach will never get old. The construction of his pieces is like geometrical figures, ideally built, where everything has its place and there is
not one redundant line. […] If any époque turns away from Bach, it will
prove its shallowness, stupidity and corrupt taste.
The admiration for Bach was planted in his mind by
Żywny, and later it was established more firmly by elsner.
Today we are allowed to say that it was their great contribution. It is hard not to hear the inspiration of Bach’s preludes
and fugues in Chopin’s Etudes, rather than in the practice
pieces created in Chopin’s times. We know Chopin played
Bach often and advised his students to play Bach’s pieces.
Before a public concert he spent some time alone practising
Bach’s pieces instead of his own compositions which he was
going to play.
The following passage of Chopin’s letter of August 8, 1839,
to Fontana relays Chopin’s reverence for Bach:
Since there is nothing to do, I am sitting and making corrections
to Bach’s Paris edition: there are not only “graveur’s mistakes”, but also
mistakes authorised by those, who supposedly understand Bach (which
is not to say that I understand better, but I feel I can sometimes guess).
His student, emilia von Timm, remembered (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 149):
Bach was an absolute priority for Chopin.
Indeed — Friederike Müller–Streicher recounts that
Chopin once played 14 preludes and fugues to her from
memory, and when admired, he simply replied (Czartkowski
& Jeżewska 1957, p. 384):
Cela ne s’oublie jamais. [It’s something you do not forget.]
We know less about how familiar Chopin was with Händel’s works. Only one note was left in a letter of September
20, 1828, to his family:
Händel’s oratory, Cäcilienfest, is closer to the ideal which I have formed
[of great music].
It is supplemented with Felix Mendelssohn’s recount from
a letter of October 6, 1835, to his family:
Just before he left I received Händel’s works, which filled Chopin with
a truly child–like joy; they are indeed so beautiful that even I could not
get enough of them.
1.3.2. Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
and Ludwig van Beethoven
Chopin’s attitude to the viennese classical musicians was
full of respect, although of a different kind. He valued them
all, Haydn as well as Mozart and Beethoven. This is how he
described differences between them to his friend (and a lay
person in the domain of music), eugène Delacroix (1932,
vol. I, pp. 190 and 284):
experience endowed […] [Haydn’s last] pieces with perfection. […]
As he said, where […] [Beethoven] is obscure and seems to lose his
unity, the cause is not his supposed originality, somewhat wild, which is
honorably attributed to him, but rather the fact that he deviates from age–
long rules; Mozart never does that. each of the parts has its own rhythm
which, in integration with the other parts, creates pure harmony.
He often expressed his admiration for Mozart, who he
was compared with at the beginning of his career. Józef
Cichowski wrote in Powszechny Dziennik Krajowy of March
25, 1930 (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 120):
Mr. Chopin, bestowed with great genius, can be compared only to
Mozart.
Chopin wrote to Potocka with exultation (Chopin 1949,
pp. 310–311):
Oh, Mozart, Mozart — just think about him. Shove all Mozart’s work
into his life — just think, how much work and brilliant music his short
life held. How many great pieces he wrote by my age; how small I am in
comparison to him. To be honest, he embraced all that is called musical
creation, and I only have the keyboard in my pate…
When he stopped in Salzburg on his way to Paris,
he did not fail to visit Mozart’s house; incidentally, he
noted when remembering his stay in Salzburg, that he
saw, in the church of St. Peter, a memorial of Johann
Michael Haydn, Joseph’s younger brother, “the father of
religious music”, in the church of St. Peter (Tomaszewski
2010, p. 53).
Note that both Chopin’s and Mozart’s music is characterised by melodious tunes and a naturalness of composition,
which is difficult to explicate but is perceptible in their
works. It is characteristic that Chopin regarded Mozart’s
works (not Beethoven’s, as was commonly thought) as
an announcement of romanticism (let us add: Chopin’s
romanticism).
liszt’s opinion prevails; he claimed that Chopin valued
only Beethoven’s lyrical works while he treated his monumental pieces with disregard. Chopin’s statements do not
support this claim. However, we know that e.g. Chopin was
greatly impressed by Beethoven’s works which he listened
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to. He considered the opera Fidelio to be a masterpiece. This
is what he wrote about his impressions of a performance of
the last trio by Beethoven in a letter of October 20, 1830,
to Woyciechowski:
I haven’t heard anything equally great for a long time — Beethoven
mocks the whole world there…
Most probably the dramatic mood of Chopin’s scherzos has its source in the character of some of Beethoven’s
scherzos. It is worth noting that Chopin was an excellent
performer of Beethoven’s pieces. Delacroix wrote in a letter
of August 19, 1846, to Frédéric villot (Sydow (ed.) 1955,
vol. II, p. 397):
Chopin wonderfully played Beethoven to me — it was worth more
than all the theories.
1.3.3. Luigi Cherubini, Giacomo Meyerbeer and
Franz Schubert
After having met Cherubini, a musician revered by many
at that time, in person, Chopin made a snide remark about
him in a letter of December 14, 1831, to elsner:
These gentlemen are like dry dolls, who you can only look at with
respect.
Apparently, the feeling Chopin had for Meyerbeer’s opera,
The Prophet, was consternation (Czartkowski & Jeżewska
1957, p. 323).
liszt relates Chopin’s opinion on Schubert (1852, p.
151):
Although he admitted that some of Schubert’s melodies had some
charm, he was reluctant to listen to some other tunes, as they were too
harsh for his sensitive ears.
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1.3.4. Felix Mendelssohn–Bartholdy and Robert
Schumann
His attitude to Mendelssohn and Schumann, who are now
considered to be the most prominent composers of the first
half of the 19th century along with him, may seem somewhat
surprising. Chopin knew them both in person, and their
relationships were good but probably not friendly. As we
mentioned before, Schumann as a critic supported Chopin
greatly, especially initially. However, Chopin was not a fan of
Schumann–the–composer. A story told by Mathias is telling
proof of that (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 391):
[One] day I noticed the first edition of The Carnival by Schumann
with a decorative lithograph on the title page, lying on [Chopin’s] bedside
table. When my father asked him what he thought about this piece, Chopin
answered with such indifference, as if he only studied it briefly. It was in
the year 1840, and The Carnival was written in 1834. […] It seemed that
Chopin […] had no desire to learn it.
And let us remember that Schumann put a musical reference to Chopin in one part of The Carnival.
Also, he did not recommend playing Schumann to his
students. His student, Camille Dubois, made a list of all
the pieces done in Chopin’s lessons and added a significant
comment: “Schumann — strictement rien” (Tomaszewski
2010, p. 149).
He and Mendelssohn had one thing in common: being a
«romantic classic». However, Chopin spoke of Mendelssohn’s
output with reserve. He said ironically that, for example, in
england you had to play Mendelssohn in order to be liked.
Mendelssohn’s attitude towards Chopin was also favorable, but
not without some sarcasm. He wrote in a letter of 23 May 23,
1835, to his mother (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p. 249):
At present Chopin is the best of pianists; […] he plays the way Paganini
plays the violin.
Both of them [i.e. Chopin and Hiller] suffer from a Parisian mania
of despair, an exaggeration of feelings, therefore they do not care for tact
and moderation in music.
1.4. Prototypes of genres
The influence of other composers, some of whom are now
forgotten, is visible in Chopin’s output. In fact, we are able
to indicate the source of each form he practised: polonaise
— elsner, Karol Kurpiński and Weber; waltzes — lanner;
etudes — above all Bach and Clementi; preludes — Bach again;
impromptus and ballads — Schubert; nocturnes — Field;
scherzos — Beethoven (for whom they were still parts of the
cycle of sonatas), sonatas and concertos — Hummel, Chopin’s
friend and Haydn’s and Mozart’s follower. We also have to
count Szymanowska among the composers who inspired
many of the forms practised by Chopin. Incidentally, she was
Field’s Moscow student; Field, in turn, remained under the
influence of Clementi. Since Field was a russophile, he was
against his Polish «imitator», and also for Chopin meeting
Field «face to face» was a disappointment. Only mazurkas
and ballads were inspired by sources outside of the realm of
«professional music»; Chopin’s mazurkas were inspired by
folk music and the idea of ballads was taken from literary
ballads by Mickiewicz. This is essential since Chopin stressed
the importance of his mazurkas and ballads. Schumann wrote
in a letter of September 14, 1836, to Dorn:
I got a new Ballad [in G minor] from Chopin. It seems the closest to
his genius, though not the most genial of his works, and I told him it is
the closest to my heart out of all the things he has created. He was silent
for quite a long time and then he said forcefully, “I am glad, because also
I like it best of all; it is dearest to my heart”.
One could say that mazurkas — and, to some degree,
ballads — were Chopin’s speciality. This is where he gained
the name “Mazurka”, which liszt used.
1.5. Piano «minimalism»
As we mentioned before, Chopin chose not to write an opera.
However, he was a great fan of the opera. There are many recounts
of opera performances in his letters. He included the reminiscence
of Mozart’s Don Juan, which he saw when he was still in Warsaw,
in his variations (those same ones which prompted Schumann to
call him a “genius”). Another opera which made a great impression on him was Meyerbeer’s Robert the Devil (not only because
of the music, but also because of the scenery and the way it was
staged). Actually, all opera performances he went to made a
great impression on him. We can find traces of it in his letters.
It is possible that this fascination with the opera contributed to
Chopin’s «minimalism» in playing the piano.
One of the most significant philosophers of the 20th century, Kazimierz Ajdukiewicz, was once revealed by some of
his students to be unfamiliar with some texts on contemporary philosophy which one had to know and refer to at
that time. He said:
If you want to write something wise by yourself, you should stop
reading others.
It is probably also true for art: relying on other artists
paralyses one’s own creativity.
Chopin was encouraged to write an opera mostly by his
only teacher of composition: elsner. elsner’s influence on
Chopin was unquestionable, although the teacher served
the function of providing encouragement rather than being
a role model. elsner noticed genius in Chopin and, what
is perhaps the most important, did not prevent him from
developing. On the contrary, he attempted to liberate and
develop all those skills which determined his greatness. He
wrote in a letter of November 27, 1831, to his student:
When teaching composition, one should not dictate formulas, especially to the students whose talent is obvious; let them find out for
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themselves, so that they have a chance to surpass themselves. […] An
artist who always takes inspiration from whatever surrounds him will
only amaze others with what he has inside him and through perfecting
himself.
Chopin exchanged cordial letters with elsner until the
end of his life; in them, he showed great respect for his
teacher’s output. He wrote with self–irony in a letter of
December 14, 1831:
In 1830, although I knew how much I lacked and how far I was from
equalling you in any way, I could think, if I dared: when my skills get near
his at least a little more, if not King Łokietek [the title of one of elsner’s
operas], then maybe at least some Duke Laskonogi or other will come
out of my imagination.
In the end, he did not compose any Laskonogi. He attempted to justify it all his life. He revealed in one of his
letters to Potocka (Chopin 1949, p. 309):
There are only few of those geniuses who can feel all the instruments
and are able to extract everything from them. I know of only two: Bach
and Mozart. […] I am best with the piano.
2. Beauty
There are a few categories of aesthetic values, namely: formal values (connected with the structure of a work of art),
workshop values (connected with the artist’s contribution to
a work of art), telic values (connected with the functionality
of a work of art), creation values (connected with the context
of a work of art), and thematic values (connected with the
sense of a work of art).
Which values from the above categories did Chopin’s
works «embody»?
There is in Chopin’s compositions symmetry, concord
and harmony, even though Chopin was ready to abandon
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them when it served certain thematic values. Then we find
in them a broken symmetry. This is visible in almost all
aspects of Chopin’s output. For example: the starting point
of the tonal aura of Chopin’s pieces is the major–minor
system; however, it was common for his works to contain
fragments of ambiguous tonality (labile) and strongly modalising fragments. Chopin’s melodies «break away» from
the stiff outlines of bars and from the symmetrical periodical
structure; sometimes they abound in unexpected twists and
modulations — at other times they surprise with, for example
a drastic limitation of ambitus. Chopin’s facture — not much
different from the standard in the notation — astounds with
distinctive differences in execution, although it introduces
only minimal changes in comparison to the original — like
lengthening the intervals between the sounds of the accompaniment. The existing traditional formal structures
(such as the form of the sonata, rondo or variation) were
gradually abandoned by him in favor of the structures that
were more characteristic to him, which were subordinate
to the expressive layer of the pieces, although they drew
from tradition.
There is mastery, artistry and moderation in Chopin’s
works. This does not mean that one would be unable to
find a lesser piece in his output (though there are no bad
ones). There is no monumentality bordering on showing off.
Chopin’s great works are indeed «great», not monumental.
Apart from them, there are miniature or even lapiday pieces,
although equally elaborated. Chopin is called “the poet of
the piano” for a reason.
There is also novelty in Chopin’s pieces, although it is
never an aim in itself: it always serves the «musical content».
Chopin himself indicated two examples of such innovations in his output — one could say, vertical innovations,
connected to the function of the accompaniment, as well as
horizontal innovations, connected with the function of the
finale (Chopin 1949, pp. 309–310):
In my written work the beauty often lies in the accompaniment. […] For
me, the accompaniment and the melody always have equal rights, and often
the accompaniment has to be in the foreground. As for finales, which so far
have been pointless, tasteless noise, even with the greatest ones, like Beethoven,
those are different in my works. Just as it is in an interesting love story, where
the last chapter is often the most interesting as it resolves the plot, also I try
to create my finales as logical resolutions of the work. It often happens that
the importance of my piece lies in the last few bars. I do not mention it to
the pianists who perform my rubbish, since whoever is smart enough, he
will figure it out, and those who only have quick fingers and feather in their
heads will not get it even if you shove it down their throats.
Music historians who view music history from the perspective of «development», have no doubts that Chopin brought
a lot to it in terms of harmonics, form, instrumental facture,
treatment of national music, etc. And yet, Chopin was far from
presenting himself as an avant–garde musician, that is, from
creating musical devices for the sake of pure creation. He only attempted to find an adequate way to reflect his musical ideas.
Finally, there is a wide spectrum of characteristic content
in Chopin’s works.
3. Content
3.1. The language of music
In Chopin’s Esquisses there are more than a dozen terms
to describe what music is (one gets the impression that he
could not decide which term to use).
First there is simply (1993, p. 48):
The art manifested in sounds is called music.
[Music is] the art of putting sounds together.
yet later Chopin insists that music is not merely “putting
sounds together”, but rather an expression of one’s thoughts
(1993, p. 48):
expressing thoughts through sounds.
The art of expressing thoughts through sounds.
Thought expressed through sounds.
Chopin claimed that music is not only a collection of
signs, but is also a language. He stressed that music and
language are parallel (1993, p. 48):
The unidentified (undetermined) word of men is a sound. An unidentified language [–] music.
A word is born from a sound — a sound before a word. A word [– is]
a kind of modification of a sound. We use sounds to make music just as
we use words to create a language.
We can presume that this belief had been instilled in him
since his youth. elsner wrote (1818, pp. 6 and 9):
There is no […] doubt that, just as music is elevated to its highest
degree of perfection when its spirit is poetic, also poetry attains that
highest degree when its form is musical; [that poetry], which is intended
to sound beautiful, and moreover, its words are sequenced metrically
and rhythmically, through which a poet, so to say, comes to a musician’s
aid. […]
It is no secret that the affinity of music and poetry is so close that each
intelligent artist who practises one or the other and deeply cares about
the essence of either, cannot fail to notice the perfection, which both of
these arts share. The influence of poetry upon music and music upon
poetry is so important that one of these arts cannot be adequately and
satisfactorily explained without considering the other.
In other definitions Chopin pointed out that music is a
specific expression of emotions, feelings and moods rather
than thoughts (convictions) (1993, p. 48):
[Music is] an expression of our feelings through sounds.
It is a manifestation of our emotions in sounds.
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At the same time, we know Chopin’s pieces to be compositions of absolute music, that is, as it is usually called,
asemantic music — devoid of content. Then should we
suspect there is a discrepancy between Chopin’s explicit and
implicit aesthetics? Or perhaps in some sense Chopin’s music
is a language and performs the functions which Chopin
ascribes to music?
3.2. The semiotic functions of symbols
In order to answer these questions, let us introduce several
conceptual distinctions.
An object is a sign of something when it performs a
semiotic function — a semantic or pragmatic one. First
of all, the functions performed through the expressions of
natural or artificial languages: names and sentences, fall into
the category of semantic functions. We would say that, for
example, the name “Frederick Chopin” performs a designating function, as a designate — Frederick Chopin — is
conventionally assigned to it. Thanks to that we can refer
to Chopin with the name: “Frederick Chopin”. The name:
“Polish composer” also designates Frederick Chopin, since
we are able to point at him with this name; we can also
truthfully predicate the name: “composer”. We can do it since
the name: “composer” connotes the features which were in
fact inherent to Chopin. linguistic convention assigns also
some correlates to compound expressions. For instance,
the sentence: “Frederick Chopin had fair hair” states occurrence of a certain state of affairs (we would say that the
sentence performs an stating function); incidentally, it is a
true sentence, as Chopin indeed had fair hair.
Thanks to the semantic functions of a natural language,
we can communicate knowledge about the world to each
other: we indicate objects, we make statements about them,
we pass information. This function is not performed by
musical pieces «by themselves». We say that semantic functions connect the signs directly (that is, without the «help»
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of the user) with their correlates. Naturally, this happens
thanks to certain conventions, which the users helped create. However, the signs subsequently become independent
of the conventions.
language expressions and other signs also establish some
pragmatic relationships, that is, relationships whose arguments are the users of the signs. expression is counted as
one of the main pragmatic functions performed by a sign
to the users (senders and recipients). A given sign expresses
an experience of a user (scil. a sender), when the sign is a
symptom of that experience. Symptoms of feelings can be
present in the sign of those feelings with or without the
sender’s awareness of the fact.
Furthermore — evocation, that is, the arousal of certain
feelings in someone by something, is also one of pragmatic
functions performed by the signs. Suppose an object invokes
a feeling in us, then for us it is a sign of that feeling.
Finally — a mimetic function, performed by iconic signs,
that is, signs similar to their correlates, is distinguished in
semiotics. However, let us note that the mimetic function
(scil. the iconic function) is not a variety of any semiotic
function mentioned above, but rather it is «used» either
to point at something (i.e. it occurs together with the designation), to express something (i.e. it is connected with
expression) or to evoke something (i.e. it is fulfilled within
the evocation).
3.2.1. Expression in music
let us now consider what kinds of signs are encountered in
music and what semiotic functions are performed by musical
pieces and their parts.
let us first state clearly that without additional conventions which bind certain musical structures to their
extra–musical meanings, musical pieces do not perform
any semantic functions. Those additional conventions are
sometimes encountered in music. relevant examples would
be: adding programmes to instrumental pieces, which was
common in Chopin’s times, or creating a list of leitmotifs
of a musical piece, connected with ascribing to them some
extra–musical senses.
This is not the case with pragmatic functions, which
musical pieces can perform without any additional
conventions.
Firstly, a musical piece might be a sign of a composer’s
experiences, which can be manifested in his composition
intentionally, unintentionally or against the composer’s
intention. let us consider a composer creating a certain idea–
composition. let us then assume that he wants to express
some of his feelings in it — e.g. happiness, despair or longing.
He composes his piece in such a way that the recipient of the
audio version of his idea «understood», grasped, what the
composer was feeling. let us stress once more that the situation, when a composer wants to express his experiences in
his composition, should be distinguished from the situation,
when they are expressed unintentionally.
Secondly, it happens that a musical piece evokes some
experiences of a listener. They could be some e.g. memories,
associations, thoughts and emotional experiences in the
end. Here is a characteristic statement uttered by Władysław
Tatarkiewicz (Tatarkiewiczowie 1979, p. 176):
I do not react to music […] with concentration. The reason for that
lies not only in the ephemeral nature of this art, but also in my own lack
of competence. However, dreaming remunerates it for me. Music is for
me a question of rhythm and dreaming: but this is a lot. Out of the classic
composers, Chopin (of course!) gives me the most of it.
let us assume that a composer wants his piece (in realisation) to evoke certain experiences in the listener. The
composer, when writing the piece, does not have to feel
these emotions at all; it is enough that he knows how to
evoke them. Naturally, some doubts may arise as to whether
it is indeed impossible to separate expressing feeling from
evoking them. On the other hand, it seems possible that
the same piece may simultaneously express the composer’s
experiences of some kind but evokes feelings of a different
kind. There exist musical pieces which consist of two layers:
when the feelings evoked by the piece cover the expressed
experiences, but do not erase them.
yet, it turns out that it is impossible to reduce emotional
«meanings» included in musical pieces simply to expression and
evocation. Sometimes we interpret a piece as an expression of
certain experiences which, as we learned before, are not shared
by the author. On the other hand, we do not always experience
joy when we listen to «cheerful» musical pieces, even if we know
that joy is «somehow» contained in them. This is why we have
to draw a clear line between, for example, the feeling of sadness
evoked by a musical piece, and the conviction that a musical
piece is supposed to express or evoke sadness.
Notice that the experiences expressed or evoked in everyday
situations are particular experiences, e.g. the sight of a friend
we have not seen in a long time gives us (our) pleasure, which
we express through (our) smile. The emotions and moods
present in music are of a slightly different character — they
have certain traits of universality. Joy present in a musical piece
is not «somebody’s» joy. It is joy «in general». The omnipresent
sorrow in Chopin’s musical pieces is not (or at least it is not
exclusively) Chopin’s sorrow, but rather a universal one.
Musical pieces include such emotional content that the
listeners may feel the emotions like their own. In this way
music, which is a carrier of universal emotions and moods,
expresses and evokes particular emotions of its creators and
in its recipients. This is what Marian Przełęcki writes on
the correspondence of emotional structures with musical
structures (1997, p. 224):
There exists a certain correspondence between the structure of sounds
and the emotional states, which gives this structure — particular motifs
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and themes as well as whole musical pieces — a certain emotional quality.
It is proven by a striking compatibility of descriptions of these qualities,
formulated by listeners with an understanding of music, and especially —
by professional musicologists. The emotional quality of a given structure
of sounds and its emotional flavor seem to be inherent to its musical form,
and designated by its musical shape.
How do composers manage to include emotional content in their musical pieces? The means of expression at a
composer’s disposal seem scarce, compared to the means
available to other artists. Music expresses and evokes feelings
through sounds, qualities of sounds, structures of sounds
and qualities of these structures — that is, through various
musical elements. At the same time it seems that the mean
used to express and evoke emotions in music is imitation:
musical processes imitate the processes of emotional life.
The similarity between music and the elements of emotional
life are at the same time difficult to explicate and intuitively
felt. Iwaszkiewicz wrote (1955, p. 86):
For Chopin, music is an expression of emotions. […] It is not only
an expression — it is a picture of emotions.
However, it is necessary to retain one reservation here.
It is not the case that each musical work — as a whole — illustrates an emotion, or an emotional process. let us note
that the construction of most musical pieces is based on
the principle of symmetry. Feelings and moods — in their
processes — do not have such symmetrical structure. Feelings and moods can be assigned to particular fragments of
musical pieces, to complete motifs, melodies, or a sequences
of chords. But also the form of Chopin’s works — especially
the mature ones — seems to be a projection of an emotional process. It is enough to analyse the development of
Chopin’s themes in the ballads and the change of expression
in the themes of the mazurkas in their subsequent variants.
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Moreover, in Chopin’s «late» works, the formal structures are
less and less symmetrical. Instead they are developmental.
The surprising element is that there is such a multitude
of moods which music is able to express and evoke, despite
the surprisingly small number of means at a composer’s
disposal. After all, music is a certain arrangement of sounds,
and sounds have only three basic parameters: duration,
dynamics, pitch, and one complex parameter: timbre. The
answer to the question of how it is possible brings an observation that musical processes reflect, in a way, whatever is
happening in our minds. Thoughts pass through our minds
slowly or quickly, and sometimes with breakneck prestissimo.
Sometimes some unexpected thing happens in our psychical
life — like an unexpected chord or a sudden dynamic change.
let us consider an example which is perhaps characteristic
of Chopin: his nocturne — «night» — mood. It is created
with subdued music, relatively slow and melodious, with a
characteristic chord accompaniment — while the «peace
and quiet» of the night is interrupted with sudden, dramatic
moments (especially in the middle parts of Chopin’s works).
There are several varieties of this nocturne, «night», mood:
there are «elegiac» nocturnes (like Nocturne in G minor, Op.
37, No. 1) and «erotic» (like Nocturne in D–flat major, Op.
27, No. 2). But there are probably as many emotional shades
as there are Chopin’s nocturnes — and nocturne–type works
(which are some of the preludes, etudes and fragments of
bigger compositions).
3.2.2. Evocation in music
The scope of feelings possible to express and evoke through
musical pieces does not end with emotions, feelings and
moods. The composer can also create certain associations,
that is, representations of certain objects and ideas. Again,
it is done by using some purely musical means.
let us consider, for example, how a composer can evoke
a representation of the homeland. He can do it through
the use of a melody or a rhythm reminding the music of
his homeland. He could quote a fragment of a melody associated to his country in his musical piece. The scope of
such means is very wide. Such composer’s suggestions are
obviously clear only for those who know the basics of their
use. The rhythm of a mazurka will not evoke the image of
Poland for those who do not know what Polish folk dance
music sounds like.
Particular melodic structures also have a specific evocative
power — thanks to the «significance» of particular intervals,
still unexplained as to their genesis, but possible to grasp
for a sensitive ear; also specific keys possess some evocative
power. Władysław Stróżewski described this phenomenon
with incredible intuition and, at the same time, extraordinary
simplicity, in the example of the compositions which are
“pure Chopin”, that is, the Preludes (Stróżewski 1989, pp.
52 and 58):
in those places where a happy or careless mood appears, which constitutes
only some kind of a break on the route to its destination. The Preludes
owe this overriding character to a large degree to their common musical
substance, which rests on the sequence of seconds dominant in all pieces
in the cycle.
Consecutive preludes are adapted in a mysterious way to the language
means included in particular tones — and […] they implement these
means almost perfectly. […]
[Here are] the expressive [and aesthetical] qualities evoked in the
Preludes. The dark mystery of Prelude in A minor reveals the nature
of this kind of mystery as such, just as Prelude in F–flat minor reveals
the nature of violence and pain, F–flat major portrays calmness and
melancholic harmony, B minor portrays the essence of speed and flight,
A–flat — the essence of calmness and strange bliss (probably portrayed
in a remembrance or a dream rather than a straightforward «now»,
which seems to remind us of itself with a clock striking the hours?), and
the last D minor with the essence of proudly facing fate, of heroism and
resolution. […]
The general character of the Preludes, despite the multitude of evoked
emotional qualities, is filled with a mood of gravity. It is sometimes
linked with the qualities of mystery and a certain «solemnity» (Prelude
in C minor), severity, even dramaticality, and on the other hand: bliss,
lyricism, calmness — but it never fades away. It does not disappear even
3.3. Programmes and associations
The above differentiations help to better explicate how
Chopin understood the linguistic character of music.
essentially, he was opposed to assigning any programmes
to musical pieces or their fragments. Already in his childhood
he realised that the «language of music» has its limitations.
In a hand–made Father’s Day card of December 6, 1818,
he wrote (Helman & Skowron & Wróblewska–Straus (ed.)
2009, p. 44):
It would be interesting to compare this diagnosis with
the titles Mrs. Sand ascribed to all the preludes, as Solange
confirms (eigeldinger 1978, pp. 226–227). Unfortunately,
it seems that the copy of the Preludes with the titles, which
Chopin gave to Mrs. Sand as a present, did not survive to
this day.
It is worth adding that feelings can also be built on associations. For example, a representation of Poland evoked
by a quotation from a Polish song can evoke a feeling of
longing in a Polish emigrant. Such feelings are also evoked
by music, although indirectly (through associations).
Dear Papa! Although it would be easier for me to express my feelings
to you through music, in reality even the best concert cannot truly express
my devotion to you, my dearest Papa. Therefore I have to use simple words
straight from my heart, to pay homage to you and to express my feelings
of gratitude and filial devotion.
This is why he consistently gave «generic» titles to his
compositions. He was greatly angered when his english
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publisher added titles to some additions of his works without
Chopin knowing about it. He wrote about it in a letter of
September 10, 1841, to Fontana:
If he lost money on my compositions, it must be because of those
stupid titles he added in spite of my ban.
Also after Chopin’s death there were attempts to add
programme titles to many of his works, in spite of the fact
that he forbade it. Only three of the suggestions caught
on: Etude C in minor, Op. 10, No. 12, is now called “The
revolutionary etude”, Etude in A minor, Op. 25, No. 11, is
called “The Winter Wind” and Prelude in D–flat major, Op.
28, No. 15 — “The rainy Prelude”.
yet, one gets an impression that what Chopin wanted to
avoid most of all was the «stiff» assignment of some meanings to his pieces, pigeonholing them in a narrow scope of
connotation (as if one gave an indisputable interpretation
to a poem).
At the same time, he consciously gave an expression
to his experiences in his works and he included in them a
certain set of emotions on purpose. In a few places — e.g. in
a letter of May 15, 1830, to Woyciechowski, Chopin clearly
describes the illustrative character of his works:
“Adagio” from the new Concerto is in e major. It is not supposed to be
powerful, it is more romantic, calm, melancholic, it is supposed to give
the impression of a pleasant glimpse of a place where a thousand dear
memories come to your mind. — It is like a reverie in a beautiful spring
time, but by the moon. This is why I accompany it with mutes, that is the
violin muted with a kind of a comb, which clasps the strings and gives
them a sort of a nasal, silvery little tone.
The evocative power of Chopin’s pieces is confirmed
in many written sources. The concordance of some of
the descriptions is thought–provoking. Mieczysław
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Tomaszewski collates them for Sonata in B–flat minor (2010,
p. 661–662):
Despite the constant change of historical perspective the readings of
the extra–sonic sense usually led to similar formulations, which could
be reduced to a common denominator. For instance, Sonata in B minor
heralds to the listeners a tragic message of the utmost importance from
the initial sounds. In the opinion of F. Niecks (1888), there is “something
gigantic” in this work, for l. Bronarski (1930), it is “an expression of tragic
dread”, whereas Z. Mycielski (1956), heard in it “a tragic and mighty note”.
“This is not how a piece with trivial content would start.”
The emotional content of Chopin’s works, despite its imprecise nature, is still clear for the listener, which is confirmed
in the similar descriptions of Scherzo in B minor collected by
Tomaszewski. The initial and final parts of the scherzo have been
described as: “a sudden, fierce dash; screams hurtled at the sky”
(Huneker), “a strong, freshly awakened passion” (Kleczyński),
“passionate outbursts and malediction” (Hoesick), “ear–splitting
screams of the extreme sides of the keyboard” (Jachimecki), “a
bitter, desperate and stormy work” (Iwaszkiewicz), an expression of “passion, terror, rage, defiance” (Zieliński). In turn, the
carol–like middle part has been described as melodies “truly
heavenly in their character”, shrouded with “an idyllic breath”
(Kleczyński), “an idyll full of angelic sweetness” (Jachimecki),
“a domestic melody, accompanying the intimate, familiar and
purely Polish tradition of the Christmas eve supper” (Iwaszkiewicz), a “gentle, loving, soothing” song (Zieliński). let us
add that earlier Schumann wrote about this scherzo in general
(Tomaszewski 2010, p. 466):
What will solemnity look like if jest is hidden behind such a dark veil?
The unspecified — and at the same time, universal — content of Chopin’s music is perhaps best described by Felicien
Mallefille in a letter of 1838 to Chopin:
Dear Sir! On one occasion, during one of those evenings when you
gave yourself fully to inspiration, surrounded by the well–wishing
chosen few — you played The Polish Ballad, which we love so much. No
sooner did the spirit of melancholy bound to your instrument recognise
those special hands, which have the power of endowing it with voice,
and commence to express his latent torment, than we sank into a dreamy
mood. And when you finished, we kept silent for a long time, thoughtful,
still hearing the wonderful song, whose last note had long before died
away into space. Then what did we all dream about and what thoughts
were evoked in our souls by that melodious tone of your piano? I cannot
answer this, since just like in clouds, everyone sees something different
in music. I looked at our old friend, the Sceptic, who nevertheless kept
his belief in love and art — he was sitting there, gazing straight ahead,
with his head leaning to his shoulder and a sombre smile on his lips, and
imagined that he was dreaming of garrulous springs and sad goodbyes
exchanged on shady forest paths. I also saw the old Believer, whose
evangelical speeches we listen to in respectful admiration — he was sitting
with his hands on his lap, his eyes closed, his forehead creased, and he
seemed to ask his forefather, Dante, about the mysteries of the Heaven
and the fate of the world. As for me, hidden in the darkest corner of the
room, I was crying, sending my thought after the fleeting images you
conjured up before me.
What Chopin’s compositions expressed was subject to
change over time, together with his own evolving personality,
in the direction of despair. liszt wrote (1852/1879, p. 55):
[In] the last period of Chopin’s creative output […] the note of elegiac
sadness looms over everything, and together with it, sudden fear, panic,
melancholic smiles, violent fits of terror, brief moments of rest full of
nervous twitches — well known to people who were suddenly trapped.
3.4. The function of catharsis
Some authors — supported by many theoreticians of art
— ascribe the function of catharsis to their works: the function of the spiritual «purification» of the recipients, thus
preparing them for a spiritual revival. These aspirations were
completely alien to Chopin. Although Słowacki, and many
others, noticed this, he was wrong in thinking that this fact
disqualifies Chopin’s works.
3.5. The Polishness of Chopin’s music
3.5.1. “A Pole in his heart”
Schumann, in his The Carnival, presents a quasi–nocturne
as a symbol of Chopin’s music. However, most fans and
theoreticians of Chopin’s music have no doubts that the
most significant content of his music is not the «night»,
but Poland. Marquis de Custine put it in a characteristically
refined phrase in a letter of March 6, 1838:
I found you, and with you your piano, flawless — without tones for
tones’ sake, with the thoughts you express outside of the instrument,
since you play the soul and not the instrument. […] Poland is miserable
as a whole, but each of Her children has his own star, which recompenses
them for the general misery.
Incidentally, Chopin himself shares with us an important
suggestion in a letter of March 7, 1839, to Fontana, concerning — we can attempt to guess — the future of Poland:
you can look for an answer to your honest and true letter in the second
Polonaise [in C minor, Op. 40].
It seems like the Polishness of Chopin’s music was the
distinctive quality which Schumann wrote about on December 4, 1838, and which he defended from the attacks of
some music critics:
Chopin is unable to write something that you would not react to with
a shout of recognition: “It’s his!” after hearing seven or eight bars. His
mannerism has been pointed out to him and it has been said that he was
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not developing. But instead, we should be grateful to him. Is not it still
the same original power which stunned and impressed you at first?
The patriotic significance of at least some of Chopin’s
pieces was obvious to all his listeners. Norwid put it metaphorically in his famous obituary of October 18, 1849
(1971–1976, vol. vI, p. 251):
A Warsovian by birth, a Pole at heart, a citizen of the world by his
talent, Frederick Chopin passed away from this world. […] He could
resolve the difficult equations of art with a mysterious proficiency — as
he could pick wild flowers without shaking any dew or dust from them.
And he could make them gleam like stars, meteors, not to say: comets,
shining for the whole europe — he could lighten them with the idea of
art. He gathered the scattered tears of the Polish nation in one diadem
of humanity, gathered into a diamond of beauty, a crystal of singular
harmony. […] He spent most of his life (the main part) abroad, living for
his country. […] He is everywhere — as he wisely stayed in the spirit of
his homeland — and he rests in his homeland, for he is everywhere. […]
Kochanowski in Sobótki [Balefires] was the first one to exhibit folk poetry
to the learned world — and Chopin did the same in music.
No wonder that Chopin’s music was banned during the
Second World War in the part of Poland occupied by the
Germans.
The partitioned Poland was waiting for a «national
composer», who would be able to present a musical portrait
of his nation and his country — with high hopes. This
feeling is expressed in Witwicki’s letter of July 6, 1831, to
Chopin:
let it always be on your mind: nationality, nationality, nationality; it
is almost a worthless word for mediocre writers, but not for a talent like
yours. A national melody is like the national climate. The mountains,
the forests, the rivers, the meadows have their own inner, native voice,
although not every soul gets it.
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In the expectation of Polish intellectuals of that time, national
music was meant to be «grand» music — opera or symphonic
music. Chopin fulfilled their dreams in a way they could never
have foreseen. Already at the age of twenty one, Chopin wrote
in a letter of December 25, 1831, to Woyciechowski:
you know how much I wanted to feel, and I partly came to the understanding of our national music.
It is obvious how accurate that «understanding» was —
from the comments of people who evidently noticed the
Polishness in Chopin’s music. Norwid simple wrote: “And
there was Poland in it…” (1971–1976, vol. II, p. 144). As
we remember, Schumann saw in it cannons hidden among
flowers. Berlioz added (Czartkowski & Jeżewska 1957, p.
347),
[When Chopin played in “a circle of chosen listeners”], he became a
poet who was singing the heroic love of the heroes of his dreams, their
chivalrous joy and sadness of their beloved homeland, distant Poland.
According to Paderewski, “there was a voice of the national soul in Chopin” (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 17). According
to Theodore Adorno (Tomaszewski 2010, p. 17):
The music [of Fantasia in F minor] reveals that Poland has not perished
yet and that someday it will surely rise. […] your ears would have to be
clogged for you not to hear it.
3.5.2. The noble and folk trends
The Polishness of Chopin’s music has two aspects: noble–aristocratic and folk. It seems that Norwid had the first one in mind
when he wrote about “Poland, the omni–excellence of history”,
and the second one, when he mentioned “wild flowers”.
Chopin became familiar with the first trend during
balls in Warsaw, which liszt recounted in detail. The
source — and the manifestation — of the second trend
was Chopin’s fascination with folklore, present since his
childhood. Wójcicki describes the characteristic situation
(1858, vol. II, p. 17):
When he was coming back home with his father one winter evening,
[Frederick] heard a perky violinist who played mazurkas and oberek
tunes at the inn. Stricken by their originality and expressive character,
he stopped at the window and begged his father to stop, as he had to
listen to the folk violin player. He stood like that for at least half an hour,
when his father urged him in vain to go home. Frederick did not leave
the window until the player stopped playing.
As Iwaszkiewicz noted, the genesis of this fascination had
its roots in the Age of enlightenment (1955, p. 41):
The spirit of Kołłątaj and Staszic is hovering above [all that], as they
were the ones who first gathered a collection of Polish folk songs, and
who inspired such people as Zorian Dołęga–Chodakowski, and later
Krystyn lach–Szyrma.
Also Chopin wrote plenty about his fascination with
Polish folk music, for example, in Kurier Szafarski.
yet is there a way to reveal how Polishness and patriotism
find their way into his music?
let us refer to liszt’s diagnosis, who cannot be denied
good judgement in this case, together with a strong sense of
intuition paired with his own experience in composing.
The starting point of the mentioned diagnosis is the following assumption (liszt 1852, p. 36):
The fundamental features of personality of a given country’s citizens
are manifested in their national folk dances.
let us accept this assumption, remembering that those
features may obviously be manifested in different ways.
In the case of Poland, the national dances liszt meant
were the polonaise and the mazurka, and to a lesser degree
— the cracovienne.
let us note that the first represents the «nobility» and
«aristocracy», and the second represents «folklore», although,
as liszt notes, the second is more universal than the first
(1852/1879, pp. 688–690):
[Because] the mazur reigns [in Poland] in palaces as well as country
huts.
A century later this diagnosis is seconded by Kotarbiński,
who writes (1960, p. 394):
A harvest time song as well as a Christmas carol teem with the rhythm
of the polonaise, and if the youth have the desire to dance, they will probably choose a mazur or something in a similar rhythm.
3.5.3. The polonaises and the mazurkas
The concert versions of the polonaise were already composed
before Chopin. What he introduced to this genre was, according to liszt, “a more moving approach and new harmonic
structures” (1852/1960, p. 48). We could risk adding: a
more «refined» approach and structures, and at the same
time — more characteristically Polish. let us remember
that Chopin was able to sense the «Polish note», as he had
the opportunity to listen to it in monody solo versions and
with accompaniment. even experienced people, who were
friendly to Chopin, such as Norwid, did not grasp this aspect
of Chopin’s works from the very beginning. Norwid admitted in a letter written at the end of 1845 to Antoni Celiński
(1971–1976, vol. vIII, p. 18):
I greatly value Chopin, but Ogiński’s polonaise has more truth for
me, and I could say that I can feel its roundness “in my hands”, as Adam
[scil. Mickiewicz] says.
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liszt saw the specific character of the polonaise as a
musical genre mostly in the «imperious» and at the same
time, «courtly» rhythm. even now it is easier to «notice»
these features in couples dancing the polonaise in their slow
steps and wide bows, and «hear» them in the music, than to
describe them precisely.
No wonder then that liszt uses the language of metaphors
and similes to «explain» the specific rhythmic character of
the polonaise (1852/1879, pp. 42, 27–28 and 32):
It was certainly not a banal and senseless promenade around the
room; it was a procession. […]
The polonaise […] shakes and thrills us with its grand rhythm, shakes off
all the numbness. It contains the noblest traditions of old–time Poland. What
strikes in them is the unbending firmness combined with gravity — which
apparently had been an inherent feature of the greatest people in this country.
[…] The polonaise exudes a calm and prudent force and seems to show those
Poles from the old times, like in the pictures preserved in the chronicles:
broad–shouldered, robust people, sharp–witted, deeply religious and immensely serious, but at the same time full of courtesy and gallantry. […]
[The polonaise] was […] one of the rare, exceptional dances whose aim
was, above all, to focus our attention on men, push them to the forefront
and arouse admiration for their beauty, gallantry, their stern and courtly
posture. (Do not those two adjectives: “stern” and “courtly” describe the
Polish character well?…)
That rhythmic «imperious spirit» and «gallantry» is additionally stressed by the characteristic polonaise melody and
harmony. Again, to explain it figuratively, the melody is «fanfare–like» and the harmony is «clear», as opposed to cantabile
melody and labile harmony, filled with “bold dissonance”, as
in some typical mazurkas. This is how liszt described this
difference (1852/1879, pp. 60–61 and 109–110):
As for expression, Chopin’s mazurkas differ greatly from the polonaises.
They have a distinctly different character. They represent a completely different
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world, in which there appear subtle, subdued and changeable colors instead
of rich and vibrant ones. […] Only there [in Poland] the full scope of pride,
tenderness and robust verve specific to this dance can be captured. […]
There is great diversity of themes and moods in very many mazurkas.
In some, the clink of spurs can be heard. […] In others, there is a kind
of subdued fear: restlessness, a premonition of love.
These words also contain liszt’s opinion on the rhythmic
character of mazurkas, which, according to him, was manifested in «sturdiness» and «exuberance» — as opposed to the
polonaise. However, as Moniuszko first noted, the formal evolution and the sui generis individuality of Chopin’s mazurkas
is worth stressing. Moniuszko wrote in a short but important
text, “W odpowiedzi J. I. Kraszewskiemu” [“In response to J.
I. Kraszewski”], published in 1857 (1857, pp. 61–62):
I was never deceived by the simple name of mazurka, given [by
Chopin] to the deep thought of a poem enchanted in those few bars of
music. […]
Chopin was only responsible for himself, for the beauty of his soul,
the pain of his heart, the music of his feelings — sung through his
genius. […]
Chopin started by drawing from folk music. No wonder that with
time, when he departed from that source, the folk character slowly faded
and changed from frequently used material to an exclusive element in
his works. There survived only one copy of the last mazurka which was
based on the first one. […]
Compare the first and the last and only then will you know which
direction the master intended to go and where he ended up.
This evolution also concerned the «content». At first,
oberek «mood» was prevalent in the mazurkas. Heller wrote
in 1827 (O Chopinie 2010, p. 42):
Chopin […] dallied with his art, controlled it, charmed the listener
with an inborn exuberance of Polish rhythm and tunes.
later the melancholic mood took over.
According to Iwaszkiewicz, the musing and tender character of these melancholic mazurkas is connected to the
influence of the Ukrainian etnos, the influence being twofold
(1955, p. 98):
It was natural in those times that [in Warsaw] one was exposed to
Ukrainian songs, the Ukrainian dumka and the Ukrainian dance —
directly through the landowners from the eastern part of Poland, who
came to Warsaw with their Ukrainian servants. […]
Through the landscape and the songs of the land of Hrubieszów
Chopin approached the very essence of the mood he presents to us […],
of a gloomy song of «hired workman» from beetroot plantations.
Not wanting to belittle this comparison, which Iwaszkiewicz turned our attention to only because he himself
came from the heart of Ukraine (he was born in Kalnik,
near Kiev), let us add that the main source of Chopin’s
«reverie» and «tenderness» was in the heart of Poland:
in his mother’s native Kuyavia region, and in the local
version of the mazurka: the kuyaviak, as well as in the
«dumka» songs from the land of Dobrzyń. luckily, one
of them was noted by Oskar Kolberg, who travelled in
the land of Dobrzyń a few years later than Chopin (incidentally, Chopin suggested that he visit this region)
(Kolberg 1969, p. 78):
let us compare it with Mazurka in B minor, Op. 33, No. 4:
The most striking melodic similarity can be found between
bars 5–8 in Chopin’s piece and bars 7–8 and 11–12 of the
Dobrzyń dumka. Also other analogies in the melody can be
detected. In the first two bars of the dumka, we have a melody
in the ambitus of the octave and the characteristic abrupt falling
fourth, repeated in bar 4 — after a falling scale motif. In Chopin’s
«kuyaviak–type» mazurka, there is also the ambitus of the
octave, and the key elements of the melody are pure intervals:
rising fourths in tact 1 and falling fifths in tact 2. In one place
(tact 12), Kolberg noted a «plaintive» singer; in Chopin’s piece,
there are more places which present this characteristic trait —
the «plaintive» places are the ones where mordents (bars 1, 3,
5 and 7) and appoggiaturas (bars 2 and 4) were used.
The motif of a falling fourth is incidentally very characteristic
of Chopin — it is noticeable also in Mazurka in G minor, Op.
24, No. 1, and in Mazurka in G–sharp minor, Op. 33, No. 1.
3.5.4. Songs
It is commonly stressed that all Chopin’s pieces belonging to
the category of vocal lyricism have Polish texts. However, the
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language is not the most important, but rather the content of
these lyrics is. Their choice is not accidental in these terms.
They express Chopin’s beliefs in a poetic form — the
fact that love, life, death and homeland were in the centre
of Chopin’s attention. They fall into two natural categories:
in Chopin’s Warsaw period, idyllic and romantic lyricism is
predominant, whereas in the Paris period, melancholic and
patriotic lyricism is more common.
The allusion is obvious in the case of Scherzo in B minor,
with the only evident quotation of all Chopin’s works: the
beautiful Polish Christmas carol, “lulajże Jezuniu” [“Sleep,
Baby Jesus”], which appeared in written sources as early as
the 18th century. It, somewhat processed and developed,
appears in the middle part.
3.6. “The spirit of the nation”
What does the Polishness of Chopin’s music mean in general?
Sometimes it is obvious, and the composer’s allusion is clear.
This was the case with the concert in vienna which Chopin
described in a letter of August 12, 1829, to his family:
yesterday, after the concert, [the director] squeezed my arm hard and
he told me […] to take another Polish theme; I chose Chmiel [Hop], which
thrilled the audience, who was not used to such songs. My spies from the
stalls vouch that people were jumping on their benches.
He is talking about a very old, pentatonic Polish wedding
song, performed by a choir during traditional wedding rites,
when the bride had to dance until she dropped — with all
the guests — a dance called “pillow dance”:
In this context, the extreme parts of the Scherzo gain in
importance: their moving drama, and at times, «scream»
(in the finale) is spontaneously interpreted as an expression
of longing and defiance (which could be the equivalent of
Album Stuttgarcki in music).
However, in the most «Polish» of Chopin’s works, mazurkas,
there are no clear allusions. They are far from simple imitations of folk dances which Chopin came across in his Warsaw
youth. The Polishness of Chopin’s mazurkas is imaginary: it is
manifested in the specific rhythm, accentuation and tonality.
This is why Chopin was angered by Oskar Kolberg’s, Wojciech
Sowiński’s and Nowakowski’s ineffective attempts in this area.
This is what he wrote about Kolberg’s songs with accompaniment in a letter of April, 1847, to his family:
Good will, not enough back–up.
He also wrote about Sowiński in a letter of December 25,
1831, to Woyciechowski:
148
If I ever imagined impostors or stupidity in art, my imaginings were
never as perfect as what I am often forced to hear now, when I am walking
around my room. My ears turn red — I would kick him out, but I have
to show some consideration, or even be affectionate. […] He [Sowiński]
gets on my nerves the most with this collection of pub songs, senseless,
with terrible accompaniment, written with no knowledge of harmony
and prosody whatsoever, with contra–dance endings — which he calls a
collection of Polish songs. […] Just think how pleasant it is — when he
sometimes grabs some piece of mine in which the beauty lies in the accompaniment — and he plays it in his vulgar, ribald, rural, Sunday–school
mode, and I cannot even say anything, because he will not understand any
more than he is able to grasp. He is like an inside–out Nowakowski.
He wrote even more bluntly about Henri Herz in a letter
of May 28, 1831, to his family:
At the end of the concert Herz was supposed to play his Variation in
Polish motifs. Poor Polish motifs! you would never expect to hear
such Sabbath songs, called “Polish music” in order to lure some publicity.
And then how to defend Polish music? Speak a word of it and you will
be taken for a lunatic, especially since Czerny, that viennese oracle of all
music delicacies, has not done a variation of any Polish theme yet.
Then how to explain the fact that the real “Polish motifs”
can be heard also in those of Chopin’s works which he did
not comment on as to their Polish origin?
It seems that the more we know about Chopin, about
who he was and what values he possessed, the more clearly
we hear the Polishness of his music.
Chopin is one of those artists who deliver their system
of values in their music. Karol Szymanowski captured this
idea well (Szymanowski 1930, p. 134; 1923, p. 132; 1931,
p. 138):
vibrant, flaring pride of noblemen’s robes and coats, the clink of knights’
swords — in the polonaises! The rustle of coarse, stiff yeoman’s homespun
fabric, the lively patter of boots, the echoes of songs at the inn — in the
mazurkas! And how often his music is forced into those frames, too
narrow, too modest for his greatness! This music is not a memory of its
author’s personal, painful experiences either, it is not a helpless complaint
about the bitterness of grey days, nor is it even a black, sombre vision of
the contemporary national mourning. […]
The «Polishness» of Chopin’s work is undoubted; however, it does not
rest on the fact that he also wrote polonaises and mazurkas (a misguided
idea of folk music being the basis of his individual work!), in which an
alien idealist and literary content was often crammed, as I mentioned
before. In the undisputed «musicality» of these pieces, he doubly surpassed
his contemporaries: as an artist, he sought forms which stand apart from
the literary–dramatic character of music, specific to romanticism; as a
Pole, he reflected in his works the essence of the contemporary tragic
collapse of national history, and he instinctively strove to catch the
universal, deepest expression of his race. He understood that he could
provide art with the most durable and truly Polish values only through
its liberation from the scope of dramatic historical content. […]
The «Polishness» […] [of Chopin’s music], while it rises above some
kind of simplified folk curio, characteristic to the so called «national»
music, it strives for the heights of the purest transcendental expression
of the very soul of our nation.
What poverty of imagination it would be to see in […] [Chopin’s
music] only wandering shadows and flashes of irrevocably bygone days!
149
Afterword
Since both of us are pianists, we have been playing Chopin’s
pieces for as long as we can remember, and we also knew
some of the basic facts of his life. But only when we started to
prepare this book, reading his letters, comments of his family
and friends, and reconstructing the world of his values — this
is when we really got to know Chopin — or at least as well as
one is able to get to know a person who lived two centuries
before. What we learned about Chopin and what we described
here surprised us and made us happy for two reasons.
First of all, it turned out that Chopin was not only a genius
composer (which we have always known about), but also: a
sensible, righteous and honest man on the one hand and a
sensitive and charming person on the other hand.
A genius with such features of personality is extremely
rare.
Secondly, we discovered that we share many of Chopin’s
views. like Chopin, we detest intellectual deception and
pseudo–scientific babble. Just like him, we value mastery,
moderation and good taste in art and we hate bungling,
exaggeration and empty novelty. like for Chopin, on the
top of our hierarchy there is our Homeland.
The building in 3 Krakowskie Przedmieście Street, where
the Institute of Philosophy of the University of Warsaw is,
in which we both work, is located between the Church of
the Holy Cross and the left wing of the Czapskis Palace,
where Chopin’s family lived in the last ten years of his stay
in Warsaw.
150
This was the apartment from which Chopin left Poland
— as it turned out — for good.
The windows of the Department of logical Semiotics, where we both work, in the attic of the building in 3
Krakowskie Przedmieście Street, overlook the magnificent
baroque cupolas of the Warsaw church of the Holy Cross.
In this church, merely a few dozen metres from where
we work, lies Chopin’s heart, which came back to Poland,
brought here from Paris by ludwika Jędrzejewiczowa, as
was her brother’s wish.
Whenever we are in our Institute and our room, we think
of the time when Chopin was leaving Warsaw, and at the
same time, we feel his presence–eternal, in spite of fate.
List of illustrations
5.
contained in the Polish version of this book
6.
7.
Abbreviations: ABr — Anna Brożek; ABrz — Agnieszka
Brzezińska; DPZS — Dyrekcja Państwowych Zbiorów Sztuki; FC — Fundacja xx Czartoryskich; JJ — Jacek Jadacki;
JK — Jerzy Koralewski; lB — leon Binental; lC — laura
Ciechomska; MFC — Muzeum Fryderyka Chopina; MJ —
Małgorzata Jóźków; MM — Maria Mirska; MwŁ — Muzeum
w Łowiczu; NIFC — Narodowy Instytut Fryderyka Chopina;
SC — Sylwiusz Chrastina; SZ — Szczepan Ziarko; TH–l —
Towarzystwo Historyczno–literackie; TiFC — Towarzystwo
im. Fryderyka Chopina; TJ — Tadeusz Jelinek; WTM —
Warszawskie Towarzystwo Muzyczne.
lC collection — lost in 1939. lB collection — lost in
1939–1944. WTM collection — lost in 1942–1944. DPZS
collections — lost in 1939.
1.
Everybody here admires the devotion you have shown
to us […] by coming to Karlsbad, which we will never
forget (Mikołaj Chopin, 15.12.1835). Market Square
in Karlove vary (Carl Waage, before 1850); Waage
1850 (c.).
2.
Even the best concert cannot grasp my devotion to you,
Dearest Dad (6.12.1818). Mikołaj Chopin (Ambroży
Mieroszewski, 1829); from the former collections of
lC; Binental 1930.
3.
King Stanislaus leszczyński in a medal from 1706;
from the collections of JJ.
4.
Utrata river in Żelazowa Wola; photo by JJ.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
Comte de Sabran [died], who I liked a lot, […] who
wrote pretty fairy tales, […] and imitated some of
Krasicki’s tales (11.10.1846). Ignacy Krasicki (Daniel
Chodowiecki, the end of the 18th c.); Krasicki 1830.
His father’s letter written to Frederick Chopin on September 14, 1835, on the way from Warsaw to Karlove vary;
from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
The grave of Frederick Chopin’s parents — Justyna, née
Krzyżanowska, and Mikołaj Chopin — in Powązkowski
Cemetery in Warsaw (9–Iv–1); photo by JJ.
I finish by giving my most sincere thanks to your Mother
again for remembering me kindly, her devoted servant,
who also has some Kuyavian blood in him (18.07.1834).
Kuyavians (Jan Nepomucen lewicki, 1841). [In:] leon
Zienkowicz, Les costumes du peuple polonaise, Paris
1838–1841; from the collections of JJ.
Write more often, for the sake of my old age and my
devotion to you (the end of February, 1838). Justyna,
née Krzyżanowska, Chopin (Ambroży Mieroszewski,
1829); from the former collections of lC; Binental
1930.
The front page of Ignacy Krasicki’s Works published
in 1830 in Paris; Krasicki 1830.
His mother’s letter written in the second half of February, 1848, in Warsaw to Frederick Chopin (a and b);
from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
I fear […] that you might at some point frown at this
heart which loves and respects you more than life itself
(15.12.1835). ludwika, née Chopin, Jędrzejewiczowa
(Ambroży Mieroszewski, 1829); from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
Frederick Chopin’s letter written on June 25, 1849, in
Paris to ludwika Jędrzejewiczowa in Warsaw; from
the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
The title page of the first edition of Krótki zbiór życia św.
Weroniki [A Short Collection of St. Veronica’s life facts]
151
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
152
(1841), written by ludwika Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa
on the basis of the stories of Italian lives of saints, written by Filip Maria Salvatori; Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa
1841.
An effigy of St. veronica, put in the second edition
of Zbiór życia św. Weroniki [The Life of St. Veronica]
(1859); Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa 1859.
The title page of the second edition of Zbiór życia św.
Weroniki [The Life of St. Veronica] (1859); Chopin–
Jędrzejewiczowa 1859; from the collections of JJ.
The grave of ludwika Jędrzejewiczowa, née Chopin,
in Powązkowski Cemetery in Warsaw (175–v–1);
photo by JJ.
Us with the blonde Izabela (18–20.07.1845). Izabela z
Chopinów Barcińska (Ambroży Mieroszewski, 1829);
from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
The grave of Izabela Barcińska, née Chopin, in
Powązkowski Cemetery in Warsaw (II–II–10); photo
by JJ.
It’s been 4 weeks since Emilia fell ill; she got a cough,
started to spit blood; mother got frightened (12.03.1827).
emilia Chopinówna (unknown author, c. 1826; watercolor and gouache on ivory); from the collections of
MFC in NIFC; property of TiFC, No. inw. M/34.
emilia Chopinówna’s grave in Powązkowski Cemetery
in Warsaw (175–II–6); photo by JJ.
Although Mother was reluctant to let me go, it did not
change anything; both me and Ludwika are in Żelazowa
Wola (24.12.1825). The mansion in Żelazowa Wola;
photo by JJ.
Will you stay longer by my tomb, like those willow trees,
remember? — the ones which display their bald heads
(18.08.1848). An old willow tree in Żelazowa Wola;
photo by JJ.
Saxon Palace in Warsaw, where Chopin family liven
in 1810–1817, viewed from Saski Garden (Julian
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
Cegliński, the middle of the 19th c.); Cegliński &
Matuszkiewicz 1855.
Saski Garden with an allegory of glory — the Chopins’
walking area in 1810–1817; photo by JJ.
My Botanical Garden, that old alias [or] behind the
palace, which the Commission had beautifully redone
(15.05.1826). Kazimierzowski Park, the former Botanical Garden of the University of Warsaw — the place
where Frederick Chopin amused himself and walked
when he was a student in the Warsaw lyceum; photo
by JJ.
You would never guess where this letter came from!…
You might think that it’s from the second gate of Kazimierzowski Palace (24.12.1825). The right outbuilding
of Kazimierzowski Palace, where the Chopin family
lived in 1817–1827; photo by JJ.
Upstairs there is a room for my convenience (27.12.1828).
The left outbuilding of Krasińskis Palace in Warsaw,
where the Chopin family lived in 1827–1837; photo
by JJ.
His Majesty Tsar and King Alexander I in his grace
presented him with a precious ring as a sign of His contentment, when Chopin was honored by being heard by
the Monarch (Mikołaj Chopin, 13.04.1829). evangelical
Church in Warsaw; photo by JJ.
A view of Warsaw from the direction of the Prague
district (Julian Cegliński, the middle of the 19th c.);
Cegliński & Matuszkiewicz 1855.
The dinning room of the Chopin family in Krasiński
Palace in Warsaw (Antoni Kolberg, 1832); from the
former collections of WTM; Binental 1930.
The view from the dinning room of the Chopin family
apartment in the outbuilding of Krasińskis Palace of the
Church of Holy Cross and Staszic Palace; photo by JJ.
radziwiłłowski (Presidential) Palace in Warsaw, where
Frederick Chopin gave his first public performance
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
on February 24, 1818 (Fryderyk Krzysztof Dietrich,
c. 1821); lam (ed.) 1928–1930, vol. III.
radziwiłłowski (Presidential) Palace in Warsaw; photo
by JJ.
The Blue Palace, where Chopin used to play frequently
in the Zamoyski family salon since he was 6 years old;
photo by JJ.
Potockis Palace, where Frederick Chopin used to play;
photo by JJ.
The Great Theatre in Warsaw (Alfons Matuszkiewicz,
the middle of the 19th c.); Cegliński & Matuszkiewicz
1855.
The greatest blockhead would learn if taught by Żywny
and Elsner (19.08.1829). Wojciech Żywny (Ambroży
Mieroszewski, 1829); from the former collections of
lC; Karłowicz 1904.
Wojciech Żywny’s grave in Powązkowski Cemetery in
Warsaw (12–II–20); photo by JJ.
If I hadn’t been learning from Elsner […], I would know
less than I do now (10.04.1830). Józef elsner; Askenazy
et al. 1901–1903, vol. I.
Józef elsner’s grave in Powązkowski Cemetery in
Warsaw (ludwik Piechaczek, before 1858); Wójcicki
1858, vol. II.
Józef elsner’s grave in Powązkowski Cemetery in Warsaw (159–v–1); photo by JJ.
A copy of Nauka harmonii [The Science of Harmony]
— Anweisung zum General Baß by Karol Antoni Simon (Poznań 1923, published by the author), which
belonged to Frederick Chopin; from the former collections of WTM; Binental 1930.
The organs in the visitationist Church in Warsaw,
where Chopin used to play; photo by JJ.
Every week, on Sundays, I play the organs at the Visitationist church, and they sing (November, 1825). The
visitationist Church in Warsaw; photo by JJ.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
57.
The main altar in the visitationist Church in Warsaw;
photo by JJ.
Staszic Palace in Warsaw, the seat of the Warsaw Society
of Friends of learning in 1823–1832; photo by JJ.
Samuel Bogumił linde’s bust (Jakub Tatarkiewicz, the
middle of the 19th c.) from his grave in the evangelical
Cemetery in Warsaw (1–12); photo by JJ.
Samuel Bogumił linde’s tomb (Władysław Walkiewicz,
before 1858) in the evangelical Cemetery in Warsaw
(1–12); Wójcicki 1858, vol. III.
I listen to Brodziński, Bentkowski and others who have
any connections with music (2.10.1926). Feliks Bentkowski; Askenazy et al. 1901–1903, vol. I.
We had to write a note in his [scil. Hanka’s] book devoted
to special guests in the Prague Museum. Brodziński,
Morawski etc. are already there (26.08.1829). Kazimierz Brodziński’s head — a fragment of the sculpture
in the visitationist Church in Warsaw (Władysław
Oleszczyński, 1863); photo by JJ.
Jakub Tatarkiewicz (self–portrait with his wife, Antonina
and his son, Franciszek Ksawery); Jaworski 1975.
Frederick Chopin’s bust (Jakub Tatarkiewicz, 1850);
from the former collections of WTM; Binental 1930.
I give my thanks to Mr. Skarbek, as mainly he was the
one who encouraged me to give the concert [August 11,
1829], as it was an introduction to a career (13.08.1829).
Fryderyk Skarbek (Walenty Bułakowski, 1837); lam
(ed.) 1928–1930, vol. III.
Szaniasio [scil. Szaniawski], who is now a confirmed, ate
collops and cabbage like, I am sure, no other Carmelite
(26.12.1830). Józef Kalasanty Szaniawski (the beginning of the 19th c.); lam (ed.) 1928–1930, vol. III.
Krystyn lach–Szyrma (the middle of the 19th c.);
Kraushar 1900–1906, vol. vII.
I saw a most beautiful city, the ugliest views of which I
hereby send in paper former (10.08.1848). edinburgh;
153
58.
59.
60.
61.
62.
63.
64.
65.
154
photograph from the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
Stanisław Kostka Potocki (Johann Ferdinand Gottfried
Krethlow, c. 1820); Kraushar 1900–1906, vol. I.
Sowiński, that kind soul, in the hands of those rascals
(after 16.09.1831). General Józef Sowiński; Sokołowski
1907.
Would you be so kind as to kindly let me visit you at any
hour convenient to you, for the sake of our old friendship
and more recent neighbourly relations? (Klementyna
Hoffmanowa née Tańska, 1844). Klementyna Hoffmanowa née Tańska; Askenazy et al. 1901–1903, vol. I.
Kazimierzowski Palace in Warsaw, the headquarters of
Warsaw lyceum (since 1839) and the University (until
now); in the foreground — students of both schools
(Jan Feliks Piwarski, 1824); Kraushar 1900–1906, vol.
vI.
The Kazimierzowski Palace; photo by JJ.
A copy of Wykład statyki dla użycia szkół wydziałowych
i wojewódzkich [Lecture on Statics for District and
Province Schools] by Gaspard Monge (Warszawa 1820,
Drukarnia Zawadzkiego i Węckiego), which Frederick
Chopin received as a reward for his exam in the Warsaw lyceum in 1824; an embossed, gilded dedication
is visible on the original vermilion cardboard cover:
MOrIBUS eT DIlIGeNTIAe / FreDerICI CHOPIN
/ IN exAMINe PUBlICO / lyCeI vArSAvIeNSIS
/ Die 24. Julii 1824; from the collections of MFC in
NIFC; property of TiFC, No. inw. M/381; Binental
1930.
A coffee house at Krakowskie Przedmieście Street,
where Chopin used to go (Alojzy Misierowicz, the
second half of the 19th c.); Nowaczyński 1939.
A house in Podwale Street in Warsaw, belonging to
Józef reinschmidt’s parents, where a farewell party
took place before Frederick Chopin went abroad in
66.
67.
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
1831; photograph from the former collections of MM;
Mirska 1949.
Let me remind you of myself and thank you for the lovely
songs (Stefan Witwicki, 6.07.1831). Stefan Witwicki;
Encyklopedia krakowska 1929–1938, vol. xvIII.
Mochnacki, who praises me lavishly in Kurier Polski,
and especially my “Adagio” [from Concerto in F minor, Op. 21], advises at the end to be more energetic
(27.03.1830). Maurycy Mochnacki (Antoni Oleszczyński, 1827); Kraushar 1900–1906, vol. I.
Western parts of Poland, incorporated into Austria,
russia and Prussia at the end of 18th century; Królestwo
Polskie 1829; from the collections of JJ.
A map of Sochaczew district (Józef Michał Bazewicz,
1907); Bazewicz 1907.
Frederick Chopin’s native land — the borderland
of Mazovia, Great Poland, Pomerania and Kuyavia;
Królestwo Polskie 1829 (fragment).
A pond in Brochów; photo by JJ.
The church of St. roch in Brochów; photo by JJ.
The main altar at the church of St. roch in Brochów;
photo by JJ.
The baptismal font in the church of St. roch in Brochów; photo by JJ.
The organ in the church of St. roch in Brochów; photo
by JJ.
It is morning, […], the air is fresh, the sun is shining
beautifully, the birds are singing (6.07.1827). The Main
Square in Kowalewo; Mirska 1949.
So today [I am] in Płock (6.07.1827). The panorama
of Płock (Napoleon Orda, the first half of the 19th c.);
from the collections of JJ.
I was […] in Sanniki at the Pruszak family’s place. I spent
all my summer there (9.09.1828). The palace in Sanniki,
where Frederick Chopin stayed in 1828; photograph
from the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
79.
80.
81.
82.
83.
84.
85.
At a musical gathering in Szafarnia […] J. P. Pichon
played Kalkbrenner’s concerto (19.08.1824). A manor
built in 1910 in Dziewanowski family property in
Szafarnia, with Frederick Chopin’s memorial (roman
Dantan, 2001); photo by ABrz; from the collections
of the Chopin Centre in Szafarnia.
On the 14th of this month the hen was crippled and the
duck lost his leg in a fight with the goose (19.08.1824).
Kurier Szafarski — a satirical magazine published by
Frederick Chopin in Szafarnia — the «issue» of 16
August 1824; Opieński 1909.
Harvest festival (Michał Stachowicz, 1821, oil on canvas,
70 × 94); from the collections of Muzeum Narodowe in
Warsaw, No. MP 2295; photo by Archiwum Foto MNW.
Tomorrow morning we are going to Turzno and we won’t
be back until Wednesday (26.08.1835). Działowski
family’s palace in Turzno, where Frederick Chopin
played concerts in 1825 and 1827; photograph from
the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
I saw […] Kopernik’s house. […] I saw the Leaning
Tower, the famous town hall, inside as well as outside;
it is a curiosity that it has as many windows as there
are days in the year, as many halls as there are months,
as many rooms as there are weeks, and it was built
wonderfully in the gothic style. However, nothing beats
the gingerbread (the beginning of September, 1825).
Town Hall in Toruń; photo by JJ.
True, I have seen all the fortifications surrounding the
city, […] I saw the famous machine which carries sand
from one place to another, […] and apart from that:
Gothic churches, built for the Teutonic Order, one of
which [scil. St. Johns’] was built in 1231 (the beginning
of September, 1825). St. Johns’ cathedral in Toruń;
photo by ABr.
The gingerbread cakes made the greatest impression or
alias filling on me. […] According to the local custom
86.
87.
88.
89.
90.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
of gingerbread bakers, gingerbread shops are corridors
lined with firmly locked chests, in which lie sorted cookies, grouped into dozens (the beginning of September,
1825). Traditional gingerbread from Toruń; photo
by JJ.
Soon in Gdańsk (6.07.1827). Interior of Artus Court
in Gdańsk (Johann Karl Schultz, after 1850); Schultz
1851–1867.
Collegium Maius of the Jagiellonian University in
Cracow; photo by ABr.
Senatorial Tower in Wawel; photo by ABr.
Wawel (Jan Nepomucen Głowacki, 1836); Głowacki
1836.
Cracow occupied my mind so I had little time to think
about home […] and you (12.09.1829). Wawel from
vistula river; photo by ABr.
Brine in Wieliczka (Józef Fischer, 1843); from the
collections of JJ.
The inside of Wieliczka Salt Mine (ludwik emanuel
Hrdina, 1842); from the collections of JJ.
lumps of salt from Wieliczka Salt Mine; from the
collections of JJ.
Mr. Indyk […] gave us a room by the rock. […] Exactly
where Mrs. Tańska was staying! (1.08.1829). view of
Ojców (Fryderyk Krzysztof Dietrich, the 19th c.); from
the collections of JJ.
Ojców is indeed pretty (12.09.1829). Maczuga Kraka
[Crac’s Club] rock in Pieskowa Skała near Ojców;
photo by ABr.
Having passed the city and the beautiful surrounding of Cracow, we told our coachman to go straight
to Ojców (1.08.1829). Chopin visited, among other
places, the royal Cavern, “where King Łokietek was
hiding from his enemies at the end of the 13th century,
as folk tales say”. The exit of the royal Cavern in Ojców;
photo by ABr.
155
97.
98.
99.
100.
101.
102.
103.
104.
105.
106.
107.
108.
156
Pieskowa Skała near Ojców; photo by ABr.
Woyciechowski wrote to me saying I should compose an
oratory. […] I wrote back, asking why he is setting up a
sugar factory and not a Camaldolese or Observantine
monastery (8.08.1839). remnants of the sugar refinery;
in the background: a view of Poturzyn; photo by SZ.
Poturzyn — view of the mansion from the Interwar
period; photograph from the collections of Zygmunt
rulikowskiego, reproduced thanks to the kindness of
Dominic rulikowski.
A pond in Poturzyn; photo by SZ.
I was left with some kind of longing for your fields
(21.08.1830). The ruins of a forge in Poturzyn; photo
by SC.
The mill in Poturzyn; photo by SZ.
A stone tablet with the inscription: In memory of
Frederick Chopin, who stayed in Poturzyn as a guest
in Tytus Woyciechowski’s house in 1830, carrying the
songs of the native folk in his heart when he was leaving
our country soon afterwards (Jan Bolesław Bulewicz,
2002); photo by SC.
A sculpture of Christ from the Orthodox Cemetery in
Poturzyn (Konstanty Hegel, 1864); photo by SC.
This was in the area of Poznań; in the castle of Prince
Radziwiłł, surrounded by immense forests, in a small
but well chosen company (November, 1829). radziwiłł’s
hunting mansion in Antonin; photo by JK.
A part of an english–style park in Antonin; photo
by JK.
A plaque commemorating Frederick Chopin’s visits in
Antonin in the years of 1827 and 1829 (Józef Petruk,
2000); photo by JK.
I spent […] a week in Antonin at Radziwiłł’s palace […].
You won’t believe how great it felt (14.11.1829). The
pillar which supports the ceiling in the main chamber
in radziwiłł’s palace in Antonin; photo by JK.
109. We hunted in the morning, we played music in the
evening (November, 1829). The salon in radziwiłł’s
palace in Antonin with a Fryderyk Buchholtz piano
from Chopin’s times; photo by JK.
110. Frederick Chopin in Prince Antoni radziwiłł’s salon
(rudolf Heinrich Schuster after Henryk Siemiradzki,
1888); from the collections of MFC in NIFC; property
of TiFC, No. inw. M/1383.
111. Town Hall in Poznań (Fryderyk Krzysztof Dietrich,
1835); from the collections of JJ.
112. Town Hall in Poznań; photo by JJ.
113. Cathedral towers in Ostrów Tumski in Poznań; photo
by JJ.
114. On my way back I went to Miss Bronikowska’s wedding
[…]; what a pretty child, she married Kurnatowski
[…]. Imagine that I lost my bolster when I was going
back from the wedding (12.09 and 3.10.1829). Frederic
Chopin’s memorial in front of the Bronikowski family mansion in Żychlin (Magdalena Walczak, Marcin
Mielczarek, 2010); photo by TJ.
115. The evangelical reformed Church in Żychlin; photo
by TJ.
116. A plaque in memory of Frederick Chopin’s stay in
Żychlin (Giotto Dimitrow, 1999); photo by TJ.
117. It was delightful in Prater today (1.05.1831). Prater —
viennese park; photo by ABr.
118. An alley in Prater; photo by ABr.
119. I walk in the mountains which surround Reinertz, often
delighted with the views of the valleys (18.08.1826). The
theatre building in Duszniki, where Chopin gave a
concert in 1826; photograph from the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
120. The town hall in Wrocław (Wilhelm loeillot, the
middle of the 19th c.); from the collections of JJ.
121. This time I liked Wrocław more (9.11.1830). Ostrów
Tumski in Wrocław; photo by ABr.
122. Figures of a drunk and a shrew from the Town Hall
in Wrocław; photo by JJ.
123. Let me assure you [again], Mr. Chopin, of my sincere
interest in your talent (Antoni radziwiłł, 4.11.1829).
Prince Antoni radziwiłł (the beginning of the 19th c.);
lam (ed.) 1928–1930, vol. III.
124. Mrs. Szymanowska is playing a concert this week. […] I
will certainly be there (8.01.1827). Maria Szymanowska
(Henri Benner, c. 1824); lam (ed.) 1928–1930, vol.
III.
125. Back cover and front page of volume II of Wiersze
różne [Chosen Poems] by Adam Naruszewicz; Tadeusz
Mostowski’s edition (Warszawa 1805); from the collections of JJ.
126. Antoni Malczewski; Encyklopedia krakowska 1929–
1938: vol. Ix.
127. Black eyes cast down and mournful apparel (Michał
elwiro Andriolli, the second half of the 19th c.); Malczewski 1825.
128. The death of a swordsman (Michał elwiro Andriolli,
the second half of the 19th c.); Malczewski 1825.
129. I will be at your [scil. Jane Stirling’s] and Mr. Chopin’s
disposal from noon until 5 o’clock (25.12.1846). Hugues
Félicité robert de lamennais; Encyklopedia krakowska
1929–1938, vol. vIII.
130. If you see Emerson […], remind him about me (18.08.1848).
ralph Waldo emerson; Zielewiczówna 1910.
131. I commend myself to your activity. A well–wishing persecutor (Adam Mickiewicz, June–July of 1842). Adam
Mickiewicz (Antoni Oleszyński after a relief by Jean
David d’Angers, 1829); lam (ed.) 1928–1930, vol. III.
132. Cyprian Norwid (Franciszek Siedlecki, before 1834);
Norwid 1934.
133. Frederick Chopin (eliza radziwiłłówna, 1826); photograph from the former collections of MM; Mirska
1949.
134. Princess Eliza […] drew me in her scrapbook twice and
they said the likeness was great (14.11.1829). Frederick
Chopin (eliza radziwiłłówna, 1826); photograph from
the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
135. When you come next month, you’ll see the whole family
in a painting; even Żywny, who remembers you often,
surprised me, had his portrait painted, and Miroszesio
caught him so well, the likeness is stunning (13.10.1829).
Frederick Chopin (Ambroży Mieroszewski, 1829);
from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
136. Hummel with his son visited me; he is finishing my
portrait. There is such a likeness that it cannot possibly
be better (22.12.1830). Frederick Chopin (Carl Hummel, 1830–1831); Sydow (ed.) 1955, vol. I.
137. My piano did not only hear mazurs (16.07.1831). Mazur
(Antoni Kurzawa, 1897); Gliński (ed.) 1930.
138. Frederick Chopin’s inkwell; from the collections
of Muzeum Narodowe in Cracow, No. inw. MNK
Iv–v–322.
139. Frederick Chopin’s letter written on July 18–20, 1845,
in Nohant to his family in Warsaw; from the former
collections of lC; Binental 1930.
140. Kind Hiller, a boy with immense talent (12.12.1831). A
medallion of Frederick Chopin and Ferdinand Hiller
(1835); from the former collections of lC; Mirska
1929.
141. An evangelical Church of Augsburg Confession in
Warsaw dedicated to the Holy Trinity, where Frederick
Chopin played the eolimelodicon designed by Karol Fidelis Brunner for tsar Alexander I in 1825 (the middle
of the 19th c.); Cegliński & Matuszkiewicz 1855.
142. landscape with a castle (Frederick Chopin’s drawing);
from the former collections of lB; Binental 1930.
143. landscape with a windmill (Frederick Chopin, before
1830; a crayon drawing on paper); from the collections
of MFC in NIFC; property of TiFC, No. inw. M/458.
157
144. landscape with a bridge (Frederick Chopin, before
1830; a crayon drawing on paper; a caption under the
drawing: “Paysage fait par Frederick Chopin”); from
the collections of MFC in NIFC; property of TiFC,
No. inw. M/334.
145. Ecce homo! Here came a human being into this world.
Linde, Linde got a successor. We were all glad of it
(20.06.1826). Samuel Bogumił linde (Frederick
Chopin, 1829); Opieński 1909.
146. Frederick Chopin (Pierre–roche Gineron, 1833); Encyklopedia warszawska 1892–1914, vol. xI.
147. Frederick Chopin (Jean François Antoine Bovy, 1837);
Encyklopedia warszawska 1892–1914, vol. xI.
148. Grief. The tomb of Herman family (Bolesław Syrewicz, 1880) in Powązkowski Cemetery in Warsaw
(T); photo by JJ.
149. Viva Krakowskie Przedmieście! (27.10.1841). The view
of Krakowskie Przedmieście in the direction of Nowy
Świat Street in Warsaw (Fryderyk Krzysztof Dietrich,
1823); Kraushar 1900–1906, vol. I.
150. The royal Castle in Warsaw (Alfons Matuszkiewicz, the
middle of the 19th c.); Cegliński & Matuszkiewicz 1855.
151. The poster advertising the 7th Chamber Music Soiree,
which took place on March, 17, 1910, in celebration of
the centenary of Frederick Chopin’s birth, organized by
the Music Institute in Cracow, with a portrait painted
by eugene Delacroix (1838); from the collections of
JJ.
152. Solo — Melancholy (Cyprian Norwid, 1861); from the
collections of JJ.
153. Grief. The tomb of Jakubowski family (Jan Woydyga,
c. 1898) in Powązkowski Cemetery in Warsaw (26);
photo by JJ.
154. Frederick Chopin (Fritz Hendrich rumpf, c. 1840);
photograph from the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
158
155. Antoni Karol Kolberg’s grave in the cemetery of the
evangelical Church of Augsburg Confession in Warsaw
(24–34); photo by JJ.
156. Frederick Chopin — a cameo carved in agate (luigi
Isler, 1842); from the former collections of lC; Binental
1930.
157. This birch tree under the windows never leaves my
memory (21.08.1830). Birch tree; photo by ABr.
158. I must go to Scheffer’s to pose for my portrait today
(28.03–19.04.1847). Frederick Chopin (Ary Scheffer, 1847); Encyklopedia warszawska 1892–1914, vol.
xI.
159. Frederick Chopin (photograph of a daguerreotype by
louis–Auguste Bisson, made in 1847 at the latest; dimensions of the original: 7,5 × 6 cm; the reproduction
made between 1936 and 1939); from the collections
of TH–l in Paris; Mirska 1949.
160. Frederick Chopin (Antoni Kolberg, 1847/1848); from
the former collections of WTM; Binental 1930.
161. Frederick Chopin (Ferenc liszt, 1849); from the former
collections of laura rappoldi–Kahrer; Mirska 1949.
162. Chopin on his deathbed (Teofil Kwiatkowski, 1849);
from the former collections of WTM; Binental 1930.
163. A subscription for his [scil. Chopin’s] tomb could complete
the needed sum at any moment: Pleyel, Eug. Delacroix,
Albrecht — Kwiatkowski, a Polish painter — Herbreault
(Wojciech Grzymała, 8.11.1849). Frederick Chopin in
his everyday clothes (Teofil Kwiatkowski, after 1849;
crayon, pencil, watercolor); from the collections of
MFC in NIFC; property of TiFC, No. inw. M/39.
164. Frederick Chopin (Tytus Maleszewski, 1892); from
the former collections of Władysław Buchner; Mirska
1949.
165. Frederick Chopin’s bust (Bolesław Syrewicz, 1892) in
the building of Frederick Chopin University of Music
in Warsaw; photo by JJ.
166. In the bag my notes go, a ribbon for my soul, with my
heart in my shoes I hop on the coach (22.09.1830).
Coach (Piotr Michałowski, 1830–1831); from the former collections of Adam Skirmunt; Sterling 1932.
167. Frederick Chopin monument in the royal Baths Park
in Warsaw (Wacław Szymanowski, 1926); photo by
JJ.
168. A statue of Frederick Chopin’s head (Stefan Kergur,
before 1949); photograph from the former collections
of MM; Mirska 1949.
169. Frederick Chopin monument in Żelazowa Wola (Józef
Gosławski, 1955); photo by JJ.
170. I stood in the darkest corner, at the foot of a gothic pillar
(26.12.1830). The pillars in St. Stephen’s Cathedral in
vienna; photo by MJ.
171. It is impossible to describe the grandeur, the enormity
of the soaring ceilings — it was (26.12.1830). vault in
St. Stephen’s Cathedral in vienna; photo by MJ.
172. A grave behind me, a grave underneath me… Only
above me was there none. A grim harmony was on my
mind (26.12.1830). A detail of a tomb in St. Stephen’s
Cathedral in vienna; photo by MJ.
173. Children studying. A vignette from the book by ludwika Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa, Podróż Józia z Warszawy do wód śląskich przez niego samego opisana [Joe’s
Journey from Warsaw to the Silesian Waters Written by
Himself] (Warszawa 1844); Chopin–Jędrzejewiczowa
1830.
174. Tomorrow night we are going to Paris to look for an
apartment (27.07.1842). Salon in Frederick Chopin’s
apartment at 9 Square d’Orleans, Paris (Teofil Kwiatkowski (?), an unsigned watercolor, between 1843/1844
and 1849; a black and white photographic reproduction of the original lost in 1939 from the former collections of lC published in: Binental 1930); from the
collections of NIFC.
175. Tell them to buy a bunch of violets on Friday, for the
smell in the salon — let me have some poesy at my place
when I get back (November, 1848). violets; photo by
JJ.
176. After a long search, we managed to find a very expensive
apartment, which corresponds to all our needs — at
12 Vendôme Square (17.09.1849). Frederick Chopin’s
last apartment at 12 vendôme Square in Paris (Teofil
Kwiatkowski, 1849); from the former collections of
lB; Binental 1930.
177. Frederick Chopin’s head in the memorial in Żelazowa
Wola (Stanisław Sikora, 1968); photo by JJ.
178. The weather is lovely today; I’m sitting in the salon
and admiring the view of Paris: […] Notre Dame.
(25.06.1849). Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris; photo
by ABr.
179. A stained glass window in Notre Dame Cathedral in
Paris; photo by ABr.
180. There has never been a friendship more faithful and less
hopeful than mine (Astolphe de Custine, 15.11.1839).
Marquis Astolphe de Custine; drawn by JJ.
181. I already found my ideal, unfortunately perhaps
(30.10.1829). Konstancja Gładkowska (Anna Jaxa–
Chamcówna, 1969; a miniature, watercolor and
gouache on ivory); from the collections of MFC in
NIFC; property of TiFC, No. inw. M/1140.
182. Christmas Day. Sunday morning. Last year at this time I
was in the Observantine church (26.12.1830). St. Anne’s
Church in Warsaw; photo by JJ.
183. I have no peace of mind, unless I […] imagine the view
[of the column] of King Sig[ismund] (26.12.1830). St.
Anne’s Church and King Sigismund’s column in Warsaw (the middle of the 19th c.); Cegliński & Matuszkiewicz 1855.
184. Maria Wodzińska (self–portrait, c. 1835); from the
former collections of DPZS; Binental 1930.
159
185. On Saturday, after you left us, we walked about sad, our
eyes filled with tears (Maria Wodzińska, September of
1835). Frederick Chopin (Maria Wodzińska, 1836);
from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
186. Please believe that our whole family is devoted to you, especially your worst student and childhood friend (Maria
Wodzińska, 1837). A bundle with Maria Wodzińska’s
letters; from the former collections of lC; Binental
1930.
187. My good Scottish ladies […]. You have to have some
physical attrait, but the unmarried one looks too much
like me. How can I kiss myself? (30.10.1848). Jane
Stirling with her niece, Fanny elgin, fragment (Achille
Jacques Jean Marie Devéria, c. 1842; lithography, 19 ×
12 cm); from the collections of MUJ in Cracow, No.
inw. MUJ 52/vIII; photo by Janusz Kozina.
188. I adore you (George Sand, 1838). George Sand’s monument (François–léon Sicard, 1905) in Jardin du luxembourg in Paris; photo by ABr.
189. I’m staying […] in an area which is the most beautiful
in the world: the sea, the mountains, whatever you wish
for. […] In an old, huge, abandoned monastery of the
Carthusian Order (3.12.1838). Carthusian monastery
in valldemossa (Jean Joseph Bonaventura laurens,
1840); photograph from the former collections of
MM; Mirska 1949.
190. Frederick Chopin (George Sand, 1841); from the former collections of lC; Binental 1930.
191. May God protect you, dearest Mr. Chopin. I will see you
soon, the beginning of October at the latest (Delfina Potocka, 16.07.1849). Delfina Potocka (c. 1830); portrait
from the former collections of the Army Museum;
Binental 1930.
192. Tomorrow we are going to Nohant (21.05.1839). George
Sand’s palace in Nohant (Pierre Blanchard, 1870);
L’Illustration vol. Iv/1870, No. 1409 (of February
160
193.
194.
195.
196.
197.
198.
199.
200.
201.
202.
26); photograph from the former collections of MM;
Mirska 1949.
Frederick Chopin’s baptism certificate in the Church
of St. roch in Brochów; Binental 1930.
A French prayer book, Petit paroissien dédié aux dames
(Paris, before 1837, Alphonse Giroux et Cie), given by
Chopin to Józefa Kościelska, née Wodzińska, in 1837;
from the collections of MwŁ, No. inw. Art.–3460–MŁ.
The inscription on the French prayer book given to
Józefa Kościelska, née Wodzińska: “Please pray for me
too. F. Ch. Paris 1837”; from the collections of MwŁ,
No. inw. Art.–3460–MŁ.
If I ever want to confess, I’ll confess to you (Aleksander
Jełowicki, 21.10.1849). The rev. Aleksander Jełowicki;
photograph from the former collections of MM; Mirska 1949.
Ms. Erskine […] keeps saying that there is a better world
than this one — but I know this all already and answer
her with quotes from the Holy Bible (17–18.11.1848). A
specimen of the Holy Bible (Warszawa 1817, Drukarnia
Księży Pijarów) owned by Chopin; from the former
collections of WTM; Binental 1930.
Enemy at the gates. The suburbs were destroyed — burnt
(after 16.09.1831). A view of Warsaw from the time of
the November Uprising; Sokołowski 1907.
Dziady Slavic feast (Czesław Jankowski, before 1896);
Mickiewicz 1823.
When this cough suffocates me, I implore you: let them
open my body so that I’m not buried alive (a few days
before my death). Chopin’s last moments (Teofil Kwiatkowski, 1850); from the former collections of WTM;
Binental 1930.
Chopin’s death mask (Auguste Clésinger, 1849); from
the collections of FC in Cracow, No. xII — 525.
The project sculpted from clay by Clésinger is delightful
(Wojciech Grzymała, 8.11.1849). Frederick Chopin’s
203.
204.
205.
206.
207.
208.
209.
tomb in Père lachaise Cemetery in Paris; photo by
ABr.
The church of Holy Cross in Warsaw; photo by JJ.
The epitaph with Frederick Chopin’s heart in the
church of Holy Cross in Warsaw (leonard Marconi,
1880); photo by JJ.
His Tsarevich Highness G[rand] D[Duke] Chief Commander most generously granted his permission to
give him proof of my growing talent in his presence
(Mikołaj Chopin, 13.04.1829). The Warsaw Belvedere (seen from the royal Baths Park), the residence
of Grand Duke Constantine, where Chopin used to
play in his childhood (Alfons Matuszkiewicz, the
middle of the 19th c.); Cegliński & Matuszkiewicz
1855.
After breakfast we set off to Kahlenberg, where King
Sobieski camped (from which I sent a letter to Izabela).
There is a former church of Camaldolese Order, where
he knighted his son Jakub before attacking the Turks
and where he himself served at the altar (25.06.1831).
Church at Kahlenberg; photo by ABr.
I would move all the sounds that my blind, mad, raging
feeling sends my way, to guess at least in parts those
songs, which still echo on the banks of the Danube, sung
by the army of King John (26.12.1830). view of vienna
from the Kahlenberg hill; photo by ABr.
We swore not to rest until we got our independence
back. A proclamation of the Houses of Parliament of
June 21, 1831, on a national loan — signed, among
others, by Julian Ursyn Niemcewicz, Secretary of State;
Sokołowski 1907.
Vienna stunned me so, dazed me so, intoxicated me
so, that I have felt no longing for home even though I
have spent two weeks here without a single letter from
home (12.09.1829). The panorama of vienna from the
Glorietta; photo by ABr.
210. You have to know I’m staying on a fourth floor now. […]
In the middle of the city, close to everything. Downstairs
is a delightful walking area (22.12.1830). A plaque on
the house in 9 Kohlmarkt Street in vienna, where
Chopin lived in 1830–1831; photo by ABr.
211. Frederick Chopin’s medallion in the obelisk in Żelazowa
Wola (Jan Woydyga, 1894); photo by JJ.
212. We went sightseeing in Prague […]. I could go on forever
talking about the wonderful Cathedral with a silver
statue of John Nepomucene, the beautiful chapel of St.
Vaclav, laid with amethysts and other precious stones
(26–27.08.1829). The Cathedral of St. vitus in Prague
(on the left: the chapel of St. vaclav; on the right: the
nave); photo by ABr.
213. Come with me through the vale of tears (Artur Grottger,
1866); Potocki (Antoni) 1907.
214. 4th finger unformed (18.08.1848). A cast of Frederick
Chopin’s hand (Auguste Clésinger, 1849); from the
collections of FC in Cracow, No. xII — 518.
215. A cast of the Peyel piano from 1847, belonging to
Frederick Chopin (Agata Biskup, ryszard Idzik, Tarcyzjusz Michalski, Paweł Moczarski, 2010), placed in
Mogilski Square in Cracow; photo by ABr.
216. Karol Mikuli (Artur Grottger, 1866); Potocki (Antoni)
1907.
217. On Wednesday we will take a trip to Salzburg (16.07.1831).
The panorama of Salzburg; photo by ABr.
218. Frederick Chopin’s Mazur included in the so called
Album of Maria Szymanowska by Celina Mickiewiczowa or Władysław Mickiewicz; from the collections
of TH–l in Paris; Mirska 1949.
219. I was told to play twice in the Imperial Theatre
(12.09.1829). The interior of the vienna State Opera;
photo by ABr.
220. When Fred starts playing a Dobrzyń region dance on
his violin, everybody in the courtyard gets up to dance
161
221.
222.
223.
224.
225.
226.
227.
228.
229.
230.
231.
162
(26.08.1825). A Mazovian violin player from the 19th
century (Wojciech Gerson, the second half of the 19th
c.); Kolberg 1885.
Stanisław Staszic (Walenty Śliwicki, the beginning of
the 19th c.); Kraushar 1900–1906, vol. vI.
Students carried him [scil. Staszic] from the Holy Cross
as far as Bielany, where he wished to be buried. […]
I saved a piece of the pall his coffin was covered with
(12.02.1826). The tomb of Stanisław Staszic in Bielany in Warsaw (the middle of the 19th c.); Kraushar
1900–1906, vol. vI.
Cracovienne (the 19th c.); from the collections of FC
in Cracow, No. xv — r. 9498.
Rondo à la Cracovienne finished in partition
(27.12.1828). Cracovienne (Zofia Stryjeńska, 1927);
Stryjeńska 1929.
Cracovienne (Władysław Boratyński, c. 1935);
Boratyński c. 1935; from the collections of JJ.
Forgive […] my tiredness, I was dancing a mazur
(18.09.1930). Mazur (Zofia Stryjeńska, 1927); Stryjeńska 1929.
Michał Kleofas Ogiński (the end of 18th c.); lam (ed.)
1928–1930, vol. III.
I will send you a polonaise and a mazurka as you
requested, so that you can jump and enjoy it truly
(10.09.1832). Polish ball: polonaise (Jan Piotr Norblin,
xvIII/xIx c.); from the collections of FC in Cracow,
No. xv — r. 1665.
I commenced Polonaise with an orchestra, but it is just beginning to emerge; it’s just the beginning, but the very beginning
is not there yet (18.09.1830). Polonaise outdoors (Korneli
Szlegel, the middle of the 19th c.); Łoziński 1907.
Polonaise (Wacław Siemiątkowski, the beginning of
20th c.); Gliński 1930.
Frederick Chopin, Zbiór śpiewów polskich z towarzyszeniem fortepianu [A Collection of Polish Songs with the
Accompaniment of the Piano]. Published by Julian
Fontana, Warszawa 1859, Gebethner and Wolff; from
the collections of JJ.
232. Ostrogskis Palace, at present the seat of the Frederick
Chopin Museum; photo by JJ.
233. The view of the windows of the Chopin family
apartment on the second floor of the outbuilding of
Krasińskis Palace — from the building of the Institute
of Philosophy at the University of Warsaw; photo by
JJ.
234. The view from a room in the Department of logical
Semiotics of University of Warsaw to the domes of the
Church of Holy Cross; photo by JJ.
List of names
The list does not include the names functioning as bibliographical references in the text and appearing in captions under the illustrations, in “literature” and in “list of
illustrations.”
A
Adorno, Theodor 144
Aigner, Piotr 5, 32, 34, 38
Ajdukiewicz, Kazimierz 135
Angoult, Marie d’ 81, 82
Arouet, François–Marie (ps.: voltaire) 26, 28, 50, 51, 73
Aristotle 50
B
Bach, Johann Sebastian 9, 33, 127, 132, 135, 136
Balakirev, Mily 108
Barcińska, Izabela née Chopin 5, 26, 28-30, 34, 62, 69
Barciński, Antoni 26, 29
Beethoven, ludwig van 9, 28, 116, 117, 126, 133-135, 137
Bellini, vincenzo 94
Bellotto, Bernardo (ps.: Canaletto) 63
Bentkowski, Feliks 5, 34
Berlioz, Hector 55, 144
Białobłocki, Jan 43, 55, 60, 61, 66, 74, 79, 92, 103, 117
Bielska, Zuzanna 26
Blanc, louis 97
Bogusławski, Wojciech 28, 67
Bonald, louis de 47
Borzęcka, emilia — cf.: Hoffmannowa, emilia née
Borzęcka
Bovy, Jean François Antoine 55
Borzewski, Antoni 43
Brandt, Alfons 108
Brodziński, Kazimierz 5, 34-36, 41, 46, 47
Bronarski, ludwik 142
Bronikowska, Melania — cf.: Kurnatowska, Melania née
Bronikowska
Brożek, Anna 11, 20
Brzowski, Józef 127
Buonarroti, Michelangelo 74
Bychowiec, Józef 6, 46
C
Canaletto — cf.: Bellotto, Bernardo
Catalani, Angelica 32, 44
Catherine the 2nd, the Tsaritsa of russia 24, 107
Cavaignac, Gottfried 97
Celiński, Antoni 145
Chałasińska–Macukow, Katarzyna 13
Chałubiński, Tytus 37
Chopin, emilia 5, 26-28, 30, 56, 62, 69, 92
Chopin, Frederick Francis passim
Chopin, Izabela — cf.: Barcińska, Izabela née Chopin
Chopin, ludwika — cf.: Jędrzejewiczowa, ludwika née
Chopin
Chopin, Mikołaj (Nicolas) 5, 13, 17, 20, 23-31, 34-37, 40,
42-46, 56, 57-62, 64, 69, 70-77, 81-83, 89, 90, 92, 93, 95-97,
99-101, 103, 104, 108, 114-116, 118, 120, 122, 125, 127,
131, 133, 141, 145, 148-150
Chopin, Tekla Justyna née Krzyżanowska 13, 17, 20, 23-31,
34-37, 40, 42-44, 46, 56-60, 62, 64, 65, 69, 71, 72, 74-76,
81-83, 87-90, 93, 95, 96, 99-101, 103, 104, 108, 114-116,
118, 120, 122, 125, 131, 133, 134, 147-150
163
Ciechomska, ludwika née Jędrzejewicz 94
Cieszkowski, August 51
Clementi, Muzio 128, 135
Clésinger, Auguste 74
Clésinger, Solange née Dudevant 32, 62, 64, 68, 69, 72-75,
78, 80, 93, 94, 96, 97, 109, 118, 126, 141
Constantine, the russian Grand Duke 31, 32, 41, 97
Cousin, victor 47
Cramer, Johann 120
Custine, Astolphe de 75, 79, 88, 91, 105, 106, 108, 122, 125,
130, 143
Czartoryska, Anna 97
Czartoryska, Marcelina 19, 70, 116, 128
Czartoryski, Adam 97
Czetwertyńska, Idalia ludwikowa 41
Czetwertyński, Borys 41
Czetwertyński, Kalikst 41
Czetweryński, Włodzimierz 41
D
Dante Alighieri 143
Delacroix, eugène 18, 56, 74, 80, 104, 114, 115, 119, 125,
133, 134
Descartes, réné 50
Długosz, Jan 50, 63
Dmochowski, Franciszek Salezy 124
Dmuszewski, ludwik Adam 62
Dobrzyński, Feliks 41
Dołęga–Chodakowski, Zorian 145
Dorn, Heinrich ludwig 122, 135
Dowgird, Anioł 46, 86
Dubois, Camille 134
Dudevant, Aurore (ps.: George Sand) 23, 25, 28, 32, 47, 55,
57, 58, 62, 64, 66-71, 73-75, 78, 80-83, 88, 92, 93, 95, 97,
114, 115, 119, 122, 126, 131, 141
Dudevant, Maurice 62, 75
164
Dudevant, Solange — cf.: Clésinger, Solange née
Dudevant
Dworzaczek, Ferdynand 5, 36, 37
Działowski, Augustyn 44
Działyńska, Cecylia 116, 129
Dziewanowska, ludwika 44
Dziewanowski, Dominik 43, 76, 97, 117
Dziewanowski, Juliusz 43
e
eigeldinger, Jean–Jacques 125
elsner, Józef (Joseph) 5, 13, 32, 33, 35, 61, 98, 103, 113, 117,
120, 124, 125, 132, 134-137
emerson, ralph Waldo 6, 48-50, 104
erskine, Catherine 89
F
Fétis, François–Joseph 71
Field, John 118, 120, 135
Fontana, Julian 34, 47, 48, 55, 56, 60, 67, 76, 87, 93, 97, 98,
101, 104, 131, 132, 142, 143
Fourier, Charles 50, 51
Fra Angelico — cf. Mugello, Guido di Pierto da
Franchomme, Auguste 60, 61, 67, 93, 104, 115
Frederick the 2nd, the King of Prussia 107
G
Gagatkiewicz, eleonora — cf.: Ziemięcka, eleonora née
Gagatkiewicz
Garglinowicz, Iza 20
Gibbon, edward 50
Giuliani, veronica 29
Gładkowska, Konstancja 80-82, 121
Gomółka, Mikołaj 28
Goszczyński, Seweryn 41
Górecka, ludwika née linde 29
Grocholska, Ksawera 88
Grudzińska, Joanna 41
Grzegorz of Sanok 50
Grzymała, Wojciech 23, 34, 56-58, 60, 65, 67, 68, 74, 76, 78,
82, 87, 89, 95, 98, 99, 101, 102, 109, 114, 117, 122
Gutmann, Adolf 93-95
H
Hall, [James F. (?)] 123
Hanka, václav 104, 108
Haydn, Johann Michael 133
Haydn, Joseph 9, 45, 126, 133, 135
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 51
Heine, Heinrich 79, 80, 82, 100, 104, 116, 123
Heinefetter, Sabine 121
Heller, Stephen 69, 146
Helman, Zofia 18
Hervé, [Jacques (?)] 62
Herz, Henri 120, 149
Hiller, Ferdinand 55, 61, 104, 135
Hoene–Wroński, Józef 47
Hoesick, Ferdynand 142
Hoffmannowa, emilia née Borzęcka 58, 82
Hoffmanowa, Klementyna née Tańska 6, 27, 30, 39, 40
Horace 114
Hornowska, Natalia 19
Hube, romuald 87
Hummel, Johann Nepomuk 32, 124, 135
Humnicki, Ignacy 30
Huneker, James Gibbons 142
J
Jachimecki, Zdzisław 20, 142
Jachowicz, Stanisław 28
Jadacki, Jacek Juliusz 11, 20
Jan of Głogów 50
Janiewicz, Feliks 39
Jarocki, Feliks Paweł 5, 36
Jaroński, Feliks 6, 35, 46
Jasiński, Andrzej 14
Jełowicki, Aleksander 80, 88, 93, 94
Jędrzejewicz, Antoni 56
Jędrzejewicz, Józef Kalasanty 27, 70
Jędrzejewicz, ludwika — cf.: Ciechomska ludwika née
Jędrzejewicz
Jędrzejewiczowa, ludwika née Chopin 5, 23, 24, 26-30, 41,
43, 44, 81, 83, 87, 88, 93, 94, 96, 100, 150
John Casimir, the King of Poland 31, 35
John the 3rd Sobieski, the King of Poland 48, 102
K
Kadłubek, Wincenty 63
Kalkbrenner, Arthur 120
Kalkbrenner, Friedrich Wilhelm 120, 123
Kant, Immanuel 47, 50
Karłowicz, Mieczysław 117
Karpiński, Franciszek 6, 28, 45, 46
Kierkegaard, Søren 91
Kleczyński, Jan 64, 68, 72, 127, 129, 130, 142
Kniaźnin, Franciszek Dionizy 28
Kochanowski, Jan 28, 144
Koczalski, raoul 114
Kolberg, Oskar 147, 148
Kolberg, Wilhelm 55
Kołłątaj, Hugo 145
Kopernik, Mikołaj 44
Kościuszko, Tadeusz 24, 37, 40, 105
Kotarbiński, Tadeusz 59, 99, 145
Koźmian, Stanisław 68, 99
Kożuchowski, Antoni 45
Krasicki, Ignacy 24, 26, 28, 107
Krasińska, Maria Urszula 31
165
Krasiński, Józef 108
Krasiński, Wincenty 31
Krasiński, Zygmunt 82
Kraszewski, Józef Ignacy 146
Krzysztofowicz, Apolinary 67
Krzyżanowska, Tekla Justyna — cf.: Chopin, Tekla Justyna
née Krzyżanowska
Kubicki, Jakub 32
Kuchař, Jan Křtitel 32
Kumelski, Norbert Adolf 76, 87, 103, 120
Kurnatowska, Melania née Bronikowska 44
Kurpiński, Karol 135
Kwiatkowski, Teofil 18, 55, 75, 78, 93
l
lablache, luigi 121
la Bruyère, Jean de 27
lach–Szyrma, Krystyn 5, 27, 37-39, 46, 47, 145
ladislaus laskonogi, a Polish Duke 63, 136
ladislaus Łokietek, the King of Poland 136
la Fontaine, Jean de 28
la rochefoucauld, François de 27
lamennais, Hugues Félicité robert de 6, 47, 48
lanner, Joseph 61, 135
lelewel, Joachim 72
lenz, Wilhelm von 67, 95, 98, 108, 129, 132
léo, Auguste 76
leroux, Pierre 50, 97
lessel, Franciszek 45
linde, ludwika — cf.: Górecka, ludwika née linde
linde, luiza née Nussbaum 34
linde, Samuel Bogumił 5, 31
liszt, Ferenc 23, 31, 41, 45, 55, 57, 58, 62-65, 70-73, 78, 80,
81, 88, 93-95, 98-100, 102, 119-124, 133-135, 143-146
louis–Philip, the King of France 97
166
Ł
Łączyńska, ewa 24
Łączyński, Mateusz 24
M
Maciejowski, Franciszek 108
Maciejowski, Ignacy 108
Magnuszewski, Dominik 41
Maistre, Joseph de 47, 51
Malczewski, Antoni 6, 46
Malibran, Marie 121
Mallefille, Felicien 142
Markiewiczówna, Władysława 14
Marliani, Charlotte 64, 67
Mathias, Georges 55, 102, 134
Matuszyński, Jan 23, 25, 61, 70, 71, 74, 76, 92, 98, 99, 102,
121, 125
Mayerowa, Barbara 32
Mendelssohn–Bartholdy, Felix 10, 117, 118, 133, 134
Mesmer, Franz Anton 65
Meyerbeer, Giacomo 9, 134, 135
Mickiewicz, Adam 6, 46, 49-51, 57, 61, 73, 90-92, 115, 116,
135, 145
Mikuli, Karol 114, 129, 130
Mochnacki, Maurycy 41, 42, 98, 124, 125
Moniuszko, Stanisław 117, 146
Montesquieu, Charles louis de 50, 51
Moriolles, Alexandre Nicolas 31
Moryto, Stanisław 11, 15
Moscheles, Ignaz 118, 123
Mosselmann, Alfred 74
Moszczeński, Aleksander 104
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus 9, 28, 32, 33, 115-117, 126, 131,
133, 135, 136
Mugello, Guido di Pietro da (ps.: Fra Angelico) 74
Murat, Joachim 47
Murillo, Bartolomé esteban Pérez 74
Mycielski, Zygmunt 142
N
Napoleon the 1st, the emperor of France 24, 31, 40
Naruszewicz, Adam 6, 45
Nidecki, Tomasz 76
Niecks, Friedrich 142
Niemcewicz, Julian Ursyn 28, 48, 102
Niemcewicz, [Karol (?)] Ursyn 67
Nietzsche, Friedrich 91
Norblin, Jean Pierre 92
Norwid, Cyprian Kamil 6, 30, 35, 52, 80, 91, 93, 94, 96, 104,
117, 144, 145
Nowakowski, Józef 61, 63, 98, 148, 149
Nussbaum, luiza — cf.: linde, luiza née Nussbaum
O
Obrescov, Natalia 77, 104
Odyniec, Antoni edward 41
Ogiński, Michał Kleofas 39, 145
Opaliński, Krzysztof 28
Orda, Napoleon 67
Orłowski, Aleksander 92
Orłowski, Antoni 102
Osławski, Wiktor 67
P
Pac, Michał Jan 23
Paderewski, Ignacy Józef 101, 144
Paganini, Niccoló 32, 120, 134
Paskevich, Ivan 92
Pasta, Giuditta 121
Perugino — cf.: vannuci, Pietro
Piasecki, Wojciech 62
Pikul, Andrzej 14, 19
Piwnicki, Alojzy 43
Pixis, Friedrich Wilhelm 63, 125
Plater, Cezary 94
Plater, ludwik 97
Plater, Paulina 67
Plater, Władysław 34, 97
Platerowa, Maria 67
Plato 38, 49
Pleyel, Camille 65, 122, 125
Pociej, Bohdan 88
Podczaszyński, Paweł Bolesław 55
Poniatowska, Irena 18
Potocka, Delfina 17, 52, 71, 79, 81, 82, 94, 96, 104, 116, 130,
132, 133, 136
Potocki, Stanisław Kostka 6, 28, 39, 40
Pruszak, Aleksander Paweł 43
Pruszakowa, Marianna 62
Pruszakowa, Seweryna née Żochowska 29
Przełęcki, Marian 139
Przybylski, ryszard 65, 100
r
radziwiłł, Antoni 6, 44, 45, 57
radziwiłł, Karol («Panie Kochanku» [«lover lord»]) 52
reber, Henri 130
rellstab, ludwig 118, 119
rolanowska, Irena 14, 20
romocki, Hieronim 66
rosengardt, Zofia — cf.: Zaleska, Zofia née rosengardt
rossini, Gioacchino Antonio 116, 117
rousseau, Jean Jacques 77
roziérs, Marie de 62
rubens, Peter Paul 74
rubini, Giovanni 121
167
S
Sabran, elzéar de 107
Saint–Simon, Claude Henri 50, 51, 97
Salvatori, Filip Maria 28
Salvi, Giovanni Battista (ps.: Sassoferrato) 74
Salzmann, Christian Gotthilf 28
Sand, George — cf.: Dudevant, Aurore
Santi, raffaello 74, 123
Sapieha, Kazimierz Nestor 32
Sassoferrato — cf.: Salvi, Giovanni Battista
Scheffer, Ary 18
Schubert, Franz 9, 134, 135
Schumann, robert 10, 72, 98, 118, 119, 121, 122, 134, 135,
142-144
Shakespeare, William 73
Sierakowski, Antoni 44
Simon, Karol Antoni 33
Skarbek, Fryderyk 5, 24, 26, 31, 36
Skarbek, Kacper 26, 31, 76
Skarbek, ludwika 26, 31, 76
Skowron, Zbigniew 18
Skrodzki, eugeniusz (ps.: Wielisław) 34, 65, 121
Skrzynecki, Jan Zygmunt 98, 99
Słowacka–Bécu, Salomea 58
Słowacki, Juliusz 58, 115, 143
Sobański, Izydor 47
Sontag, Henriette 32
Sowińska, Katarzyna 6, 27, 39, 40
Sowiński, Józef 6, 27, 39, 40
Sowiński, Wojciech 132, 148, 149
Stanislaus leszczyński, the King of Poland 24
Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski, the King of Poland 24,
75
Stirling, Jane 28, 77, 81, 82, 89, 95, 104, 132
Stradella, Alessandro 94
Stróżewski, Władysław 141
168
Stumpf, Carl 39
Suvorov, Aleksandr 92
Szaniawski, Józef Kalasanty 5, 37, 38
Szulczewski, Karol 99
Szymanowska, Maria 6, 32, 45, 135
Szymanowski, Karol 149
T
Tańska, Klementyna — cf.: Hoffmanowa, Klementyna née
Tańska
Tatarkiewicz, Jan Jakub 5, 34, 36-38
Tatarkiewicz, Władysław 38, 110, 113, 115, 116, 139
Tellefsen, Thomas 128
Tetzner, Jerzy 63
Thalberg, Sigismund 61, 95, 121
Tomaszewski, Mieczysław 18, 142
Towiański, Andrzej 35, 47, 86, 115
Trembecki, Stanisław 28
Trentowski, Bronisław Ferdynand 6, 47, 51
Trębicka, Maria 91
Troupenas, eugène–Théodore 132
Turgenev, Aleksandr 107
U
Urban, Ignaz 28
v
vannuci, Pietro (ps.: Perugino) 74
vaudémont, louise de 117
viardot, Pauline 71, 75, 93, 94
vogel, Zygmunt 63
voigt, Henrietta 125
voltaire — cf.: Arouet, François–Marie
W
Walewska, Maria 24
Weber, Carl Maria von 117, 130, 135
Werbusz, Józefa 27
Weydlich, Adam 23, 24
Wieck, Friedrich 103
Wieck, Clara 61, 103
Wielisław — cf.: Skrodzki, eugeniusz
Wiesiołowska, Anna 44
Wiszniewski, Michał 46
Witelo 49
Witwicki, Stefan 41, 69, 86, 97, 144
Wodzińska, Józefa 66
Wodzińska, Maria 18, 61, 81, 82, 100
Wodzińska, Teresa 61
Wodziński, Antoni 61, 100
Wodziński, Feliks 71, 120, 124
Wodziński, Wincenty 108
Wolicki, Teofil 44
Wołowski, [?] 104
Woyciechowski, Tytus 44, 57, 59, 60, 67, 68, 70-72, 77, 79,
80, 93, 96, 103, 110, 115, 118, 120, 121, 123, 124, 134,
142, 144, 148
Wójcicki, Kazimierz Władysław 59, 62, 66, 108, 145
Wróblewska–Straus, Hanna 18
Würfel, Wenzel Wilhelm (václav vilém Werfel) 5, 32-34
Wybraniecki, Antoni 43
Zubelewicz, Adam Ignacy 5, 37, 38, 46
Ż
Żmudziński, Tadeusz 14
Żochowska, Seweryna — cf.: Pruszakowa, Seweryna née
Żochowska
Żywny, Wojciech (Adalbert, vojtĕch Živný) 5, 27, 30, 32-34,
108, 123, 132
Z
Zaleska, Zofia née rosengardt 126
Zaleski, Bohdan 41, 97, 126
Zamoyska, Zofia 27, 30
Zamoyski, Andrzej 27, 30
Zboiński, Karol 43
Zboiński, Ksawery 43, 44
Zieliński, Tadeusz Andrzej 142
Ziemięcka, eleonora née Gagatkiewicz 29
Zbylitowski, Andrzej 28
169