Born March 1, 1809, at Zelazowa-Wola, near Warsaw.Died October 17, 1849, in Paris.
Chopin was the son of a French father who had lived in Warsaw and was teacher in the gymnasium there; his mother was a Polish woman. Chopin's early talent for music was unmistakable, both his parents having been gifted in this direction. The child, therefore, was put at music very young and appeared as a wonder-child at an early age. His teachers were a Bohemian named Zwyny and Joseph Elsner. But the most of his work he must have accomplished by himself, since we find that before he was nineteen he had written his theme and variations upon "La Ci Darem la Mano," and all his works up to and including the Concerto in E minor, opus 11. It is believed that the so-called second concerto in F minor was also completed before this period. This mass of works included not alone the very remarkable variations upon Mozart's air, already mentioned, and the brilliant concertos, with certain rondos and mazurkas and other characteristic illustrations of the Chopin genius, but also the studies for pianoforte, opus 10, which in methods of treating the piano amount to a most astonishing advance over anything which had appeared before them. They are also as beautiful and original from a musical standpoint as they are remarkable from that of piano-forte technic.
Frederic Francois ChopinFrederic Francois Chopin
Frederic Francois ChopinFrederic Francois Chopin
Accordingly, when Chopin, in 1828, went upon a concert tour to Paris, Vienna, and Munich, he was received everywhere with astonishing enthusiasm, and was very much surprised to hear himself called one of the first virtuosi of the time, as, indeed, he must have been. At Paris his opus 2 was published (the variations just mentioned), and this was the composition which attracted Schumann's attention and concerning which he wrote such a glowing and enthusiastic account. In 1829 he came to Paris to reside, and immediately became an active member of a small but extremely brilliant art circle, among the members of which were to be found such celebrities as Liszt, Berlioz, Heine, Balzac, Ernst, and Meyerbeer.
Chopin's father having died, he assumed the care of his mother, and supported himself partly by concert playing and partly by teaching. As early as 1838 the symptoms of pulmonary weakness began to appear, and from that time to the end of his life he was more or less an invalid, always in delicate health and sometimes unfit for any exertion. From the brilliancy of his position in Paris, the death of Chopin was a great shock to the artistic world, and he was buried with most impressive ceremonies. His grave is not far from those of Bellini and Cherubini. He was a man of fine wit, aristocratic presence, distinguished manners, and a highly sensitive and poetic nature, all of which qualities reached expression in his music.
The best biography of Chopin is that by Fr. Niecks, in two volumes. The so-called "Chopin," by Liszt, is merely a rhapsody upon his departed friend, having very little biographical but a great deal of critical value, because no one knew better than Liszt how to estimate the innovations which Chopin had made in piano playing.
It will be noticed by the attentive reader that the art of modern piano playing, as we now have it, depends practically upon the works of Chopin, Schumann, and Liszt, with possibly a little advance help from Weber and Thalberg. The three artists first mentioned began to work in their several provinces at about the same time; Chopin and Liszt between 1826 and 1830, and Schumann from 1830 on. Liszt, however, did not produce works of distinguished originality until after the contest with Thalberg in Paris and after hearing Paganini, somewhere about 1834, so that, on the whole, if superior eminence were to be accorded either of these artists in point of priority of invention, we would perhaps give the credit to Chopin; and in point of precocity of genius, considering the astonishing innovations he made, I think Chopin is to be held even in advance of Mozart, Schubert, and Mendelssohn, all of whom created remarkably mature works in new styles at a very early age.
Chopin's works are almost entirely for the pianoforte, and he was the originator of several forms which have now become types; the salon waltz was practically created by him, although Weber's "Invitation to the Dance" opened the way, and the ballads, scherzi, and nocturnes of Chopin were new types, showing his genius in the most beautiful manner.
PROGRAM I. (Easy.)Polonaise in A major, opus 40, No. 1.Polonaise in C-sharp minor, opus 26, No. 1.Preludes: Opus 28. No. 4, E minor.No. 6, B minor.No. 7, A major.No. 9, E major.Prelude in D-flat, opus 28, No. 15.Waltz in C-sharp minor, opus 64.Waltz in D-flat, opus 64, No. 1.Nocturne in E-flat, opus 9, No. 2.Waltz in A-flat, opus 42.PROGRAM II. (More difficult.)Polonaise in A major.Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor, opus 66.Scherzo in B-flat minor, opus 31.Nocturne in E-flat major, opus 9, No. 2.Nocturne in G major, opus 37, No. 2.Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.PROGRAM III. (Still more difficult.)Études: Opus 10, No. 1, C major.No. 2, A minor.No. 3, E major.No. 4, C-sharp minor.No. 5, G-flat (black key).Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.Romanza from First Concerto, in E minor. (Reinecke's arrangement or with second piano.)Impromptu in A-flat, opus 29.Nocturne in D-flat, opus 27, No. 2.Polonaise in A-flat, opus 53.
In order to fully understand the individuality and genius of Frederic François Chopin (1809-1849) it would be necessary to study his work from three standpoints. First, naturally, for what it is in and of itself—the moods, the qualities of style, the peculiar individuality of his musical thought; second, with reference to the modifications of pianoforte style inaugurated by this gifted genius—modifications which, while having their source in certain improvements of the mechanism of the pianoforte made immediately before Chopin began to write, would not have come so soon but for his genius and insight; and, third, to study the relation of this master in his style of musical ideas and working out, his fancy, his imagination, his representation of many sides of human nature, to the music of the other composers of the romantic school, and especially to that of Mendelssohn and Schumann, whose compositions were produced contemporaneously with those of Chopin. To cover all this ground is naturally impossible in one, two, or even in several, chapters, wherefore I shall confine myself in the present program to illustrating a few of the characteristic individualities of Chopin and the essential features of his style. There are difficulties in doing this adequately, arising from the fact that as piano virtuoso, Chopin, when fully expressing himself, did so without regard for the convenience of imperfectly-trained hands upon the pianoforte. Hence the works of his which represent his genius at its best are mostly too difficult for any but very accomplished players.
In recognition of this difficulty I have made three programs, each more difficult than the preceding, from which the student may make his choice, since the qualities are mainly the same in all, excepting that his complete treatment of the pianoforte is more perfectly illustrated in the more difficult examples of his style. These, I may add, are no longer the utmost limit of pianoforte difficulty, as they were at the time when written; later writers have passed considerably beyond even the most difficult works of Chopin. But for pianists in general some of the Chopin works still remain along the farthest borders of their art.
Among the most striking peculiarities of Chopin's style are, perhaps: first, melodiousness, combined with a certain melancholy, almost morbid, mood; second, pleasing running work, especially for the right hand, generally overlying an entirely simple bass, or a bass essentially simple upon the harmonic side but broken or modified so as to conceal this fact from the superficial observer. All his later life Chopin was an invalid or semi-invalid, and much of his music illustrates a certain feverishness and morbidness of temperament.
The originality of Chopin shows best, perhaps, in his polonaises, ballads, preludes, and nocturnes; but the two sonatas, while presenting marked differences from those of the older writers, are, nevertheless, tone-poems of strong originality. Practically, he may be said to have invented the polonaise, the nocturne, and the ballad. The preludes are short pieces of marked originality and expression, which have always seemed to me like chips struck off in working at something else. Very likely they may have been beginnings of larger works which were never completed. Possibly they may have never been intended to reach any larger dimensions than those in which we find them. First, his polonaises.
The polonaise, as perfected by Chopin, is a composition in 3/4 measure, having really six beats to the measure, arranged in three twos; the second of these six beats is divided, and there is an extra accent upon the fifth.
Moreover, this rhythm must be kept quite strictly, like a march, for a march the polonaise is in its general characteristics, rather than a dance properly so called. The fanciful description of the polonaise given by Liszt in his memoir of Chopin may be taken as in the main correct. He says:
"While listening to some of the polonaises of Chopin we can almost catch the firm, nay the more than firm, the heavy, resolute tread of men bravely facing all the bitter injustice which the most cruel and relentless destiny can offer with the manly pride of unblenching courage.
"The progress of the music suggests to our imagination such magnificent groups as were designed by Paul Veronese, robed in the rich costume of days long past; we see passing at intervals before us brocades of gold, velvets, damasked satins, silvery, soft, and flexible sables, hanging sleeves gracefully thrown back upon the shoulders, embossed sabers, boots yellow as gold or red with trampled blood, sashes with long and undulating fringes, close chemisettes, rustling trains, stomachers embroidered with pearls, head-dresses glittering with rubies or leafy with emeralds, light slippers rich in amber, gloves perfumed with the luxurious attar of the harems."
The delicacy of Chopin's playing is traditional, but Liszt is authority for the statement that Chopin was fond of hearing his larger and more heroic works played with a power of which he himself was incapable. It is related by some one that upon one occasion a very talented young pianist called upon Chopin, and, being invited to play, did so, the great polonaise in A-flat being the matter. Excited by the work and by the presence of the author, and full of the heroic spirit of the music, he broke several hammers—an occurrence quite common in heavy playing in those days. Naturally, the young man was extremely mortified at this, and endeavored to apologize over and over again. But the composer cut him short. "Say not a word," said he; "if I had your strength I would break every hammer in the piano when I played that piece." This may be one of those "ben trovato" anecdotes which, if not true, ought to be.
Both the polonaises upon the first program illustrate the breadth, impassioned force, and vigor of Chopin's idea to a marked degree, as well, perhaps, as anything he ever composed. The first, commonly known as the "Military Polonaise," is one of those pompous pieces which inevitably suggest some kind of great ceremonial. The movement begins in stately march-like rhythmic swing, and goes on with interruptions of brilliant effect, as if where the cannon and drums add their noisy emphasis. The pomp resumes its march, but presently gives place to a middle part—a trio. This, again, is in the key of D major, with a great swinging melody like a trumpet, the military rhythm going on uninterruptedly below. At length the original movement is resumed, and presently comes the end. In all, it is a matter of pomp, brilliant ceremony, stately march, like some national festival.
The second polonaise is of a wholly different character. The expression is even more forcible than that of the first, but the character is not the same. It is now as if one remembered some of the heroes of Poland. With what fervor enters the leading subject (first four measures)! It is complete in itself. Then comes a softer and more capricious melody, but little more heroic than a nocturne. The second principal idea (measure 25) is mystic, as if some kind of ceremonial were being conducted. The rhythm goes on, but softly and with interruptions. At length the principal idea again. Now comes the middle piece, in the key of D-flat—a beautiful melody, one of the finest of Chopin's, supported upon very delicate and sensitively changing harmonies, full of chromatic and enharmonic modulation. After this a second idea, in which two voices carry on the interest; the upper a soprano, the lower a baritone or tenor, and they have a sort of dialogue (measure 66). Then the soft melody again. In the first editions of this work the da capo was not marked, and for about forty years critics gave themselves headaches in trying to explain why Chopin invented a new form of this anomalous construction,—a first part in the key of C-sharp minor; a second part in the key of D-flat major. "Where," they asked, "was the unity?" And by way of emphasis they spelled the word Unity with a capital initial. At last, however, some Solomon among editors affixed the missing letters "D. C.," and behold! we had our Unity all right. It was simply a case of a middle piece in the major key of the same tonic, with the notation changed enharmonically for the sake of simplicity, the key of D-flat being, for the majority of players, easier to read than that of C-sharp major.
The preludes which follow represent individual moods. The first, in E minor, consists of a slow melody, almost stationary, while against the long tones a chord accompaniment softly pulsates, the harmonies shifting chromatically.
The second, No. 6, in B minor, has a lovely melodic idea in the bass, while the right hand carries a soft harmony and a slow pulsation in the upper voice. The impression of the whole is most mysterious, melancholy, and tender.
No. 7, in A major, is one of the preludes which seems as if it might have been a beginning for a longer composition, perhaps a slow waltz.
No. 9, in E major, a very grave, serious, organ-like movement, in which massive, tremendous chord-successions march onward to a climax through unheard-of modulations. This piece, by the way, has been arranged for organ very effectively by A. W. Gottschalg. In playing it the slow movement, the sustained and deep melody, and the steady rhythm all require careful attention.
The prelude in D-flat represents a larger flight of the Chopin fancy. It begins with a lovely melody, like a nocturne. This exquisite melody gives place to a somewhat broken part in the key of C-sharp minor, in which the remarkable thing is the incessant repetition of the note G-sharp. This continues in eighth-note motion throughout all the measures of this part of the work. It can only be made tolerable by careful observance of the "sotto voce" at beginning and gradually increasing in power up to the fortissimo in the fortieth measure. Again it subsides into pianissimo, and again the crescendo. Finally the original melody in D-flat is resumed—and with what grateful sweetness!—and the piece is carried through to the close.
The waltzes of Chopin are not to be taken too seriously. They are salon music, but of a particularly pleasing character. One of the most charming, although a small one, is that in C-sharp minor, which is built upon three leading motives. First the motive of two measures which opens the work; then the little passage of eighth notes which answers it; and finally the running work beginning in measure 33. Farther along there is a melody in D-flat, which stands in place of a trio. It is a sentimental and lovely melody. The effect of the whole is light, capricious, and musical.
Following this is the little waltz in D-flat, opus 64, so often heard, and so many times built over in all sorts of double notes, thirds, sixths, etc. It illustrates the knack which Chopin had of developing a pleasing whole out of very slight materials. Observe the extreme simplicity of the bass.
The name nocturne was invented by John Field, who wrote twelve pieces with this title (the remaining ones of the twenty usually printed were named by the publishers) which are, in effect, sonnets; little lyric pieces, of greater or less depth, having the general type of a song without words, but preferably of a melancholy or tender character, and the form of a melody with accompaniment. Chopin took up this form and greatly ennobled it. His nocturnes are vastly more beautiful and original than those of Field; they have greater variety, deeper tenderness, and in every way are more distinguished and characteristic. The little nocturne in E-flat, opus 9, is one which is now very generally played upon every sort of instrument capable of singing a soprano melody.
The waltz which concludes the first program is of a more brilliant character than the two little ones earlier upon the list. It begins, after the introduction, with a double rhythm, the right hand playing a melody in double measure, while the left hand goes on in triple rhythm. It should be played with brilliancy, the left hand quite crisp and clear, but light; the right hand rather brilliantly. The syncopation gives place to agreeable running work for the right hand, and this again to another subject in double notes, a very earnest melody. A little later there is another short melody, and the double-note subject returns, and so all the material over again.
The Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor belongs to that class of Chopin's works mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, in which pleasing effects are made by fluent running work, containing more or less changing notes and other forms of dissonance—running work so fast that the ear does not follow each note, but skims along the melodic thread, as it were, the general impression of an "effect" being the form of conscious delight. This kind of effect in music, which depends in part upon the persistence of the pianoforte tone after the keys are released, was original with Chopin; or, if we can not say that he fully originated, he certainly brought it to greater perfection than any of his predecessors ever did. Moreover, the runs of Chopin are more complicated and daring, yet at the same time better adapted to rapid performance than any of those by the older writers for pianoforte. In the present instance, moreover, there is a further unsettling element in the fact that against the six tones of the right hand groups, the left hand plays groups of four tones. This, which was never carried out upon so extensive a scale before, is now perfectly easy to perform, although in Chopin's time it was considered a difficulty. It serves to impart an elusiveness to the effect of the music, entirely in keeping with the name.
The place of "middle piece" in this Fantasia Impromptu is filled by a slow melody which in effect is a nocturne—quite in the manner of the middle piece in the Impromptu in A-flat. The principal ideas in this are also somewhat varied in their repetitions, and light and delicate arabesques occur, which add to the charm. The slow part affords a repose, after which the principal subject returns and the whole comes to a brilliant ending by means of a coda. The entire piece is extremely characteristic of Chopin's genius.
The Scherzo in B-flat minor is more analogous to a ballad than to any one of the varieties of piece known under this title in the classic works of Beethoven. It consists substantially of about four primordial elements. First there is the principal subject, the characteristic expression of which is due to the unexpected answer of the suggestive query of the low notes by strongly accented chords. Still in emphatic mood the second idea comes in (measure 48) with running work.
Then follows a delightful melodic idea (measure 64), which is repeated in different keys no less than five times, the entire period extending to forty-nine measures. The accompaniment of this charming melody is thoroughly Chopinesque, consisting of arpeggio figures generally covering the compass of a tenth. In spirit this passage is much the same as that of the second idea in the Polonaise in C-sharp minor. After the second idea there is a coda concluding this part of the work. It is then repeated with a few very slight modifications. Then follows the middle piece, a melody in the key of A, a novel relation of keys which no doubt troubled the contemporaries of the composer more than it need us, since the key of the piece is properly D-flat, the B-flat minor predominating only at the beginning, and the first part, as well as the last, closing in D-flat major. From this to the key of A, counting by the keyboard, is a major third, and everybody knows that the major third above or below is an agreeable relation of keys; moreover, we have here the music to tell us. This middle part is mystic and truly charming. Several other ideas meet us presently, one of which, with triplets in the alto, is rather troublesome to play and still more troublesome when it occurs again near the end of the piece. Also some very pretty running work, charmingly supported upon a bass containing considerable melody of its own. This running work is afterward given considerable development, as also is the subordinate idea already referred to characterized by the triplets in the alto, and then the first part of the piece is repeated, and so at length the end.
The name "scherzo" in this connection is to be taken as signifying a play of fancy, rather than an especially playful mood in the sense of mirthfulness; in fact, it is not easy to find a rational explanation of the grounds upon which Chopin named his pieces, especially as between the ballad and the scherzo. Probably, however, he called those ballads which begin with a lyric melody and depend for their interest mainly upon the development of lyric melodies, reaching at times a tragic elevation; but even with this explanation the line between the nocturnes and ballads will be very difficult to draw, since the Nocturne in G major, of which we shall speak presently, lacks only a more brilliant treatment in the middle part to raise it to the grade of a ballad. On the whole, we may as well confess that all these names are more or less fanciful and perhaps applied without any very deep reason, but simply because it was necessary to call the pieces by some title in particular.
The Nocturne in G major is one of the most pleasing of all the compositions of this kind in the works of Chopin. It is also rather difficult, since the principal subject runs in thirds and sixths more or less chromatic and in the course of the treatment these figures are carried into a large number of keys, in all of which they have to retain a singing quality of tone in the soprano and a very clean and legato style of performance; but when adequately done the effect is very charming indeed. The middle part again consists of a very beautiful digression, something like a cradle song, or a barcarolle,—a gentle, peaceful, rocking motion,—and then again the principal subject returns. It will be seen that in spite of the quite considerable length to which this nocturne is developed, it never rises to the impassioned diversification which Chopin seems to have considered as belonging to the ballad. For all his ballads, no matter how quiet their opening subject, become more or less dramatic before they are completed.
The Ballad in A-flat is one of the most frequently played compositions of Chopin. It opens with a very pleasing and melodious subject, which, by the aid of various subordinate ideas, is carried out to the extent of fifty-two measures. At this point a new motion begins and a very pleasing second subject, of a more playful character, perhaps, than the first. Later on, in measure 115, some very pretty running work comes in; then again, still farther on, where the signature changes to four sharps, the second subject appears in the treble, somewhat changed, against some very pretty running work in the bass; and then begins a charming and elaborate building up to the climax, when the first subject is brought back in fortissimo form. For the player and for the hearer this piece, when well treated, is one of the most pleasing piano solos possible to mention. I do not know, however, that it is necessary to turn it wrong side out in the effort to find some hidden or recondite meaning. It is pleasing and well made rather than deeply impassioned, and it is a mistake to overdo the contrasts in it.
The studies of Chopin form a literature by themselves. In all, there are twenty-seven published. The first book, opus 10, containing twelve studies, was composed when Chopin was a boy of sixteen or seventeen, and I do not think the history of music shows any similar case of precocity. These studies were vastly more difficult than anything existing at that time excepting the fugues of Bach, and they spring out at once, fully armed as it were, with a well-developed style in melody, in harmonic handling, and especially in the application of the hands to the piano; thus they turned over an entirely new leaf; and what is more significant, and to the credit of the young genius, is that he seems to have divined, by a sort of intuition, the strategic points of modern piano playing as it was to be, so that in spite of these works having now been before the musical world more than fifty years and their having entered into conservatory and boarding-school curricula to an almost universal extent, the pianist who can play them all in the manner in which Chopin intended is already an artist. They belong to the most poetic and sagaciously conceived compositions for the instrument. The five here selected are not particularly better than the five next following, or the last numbers of this same opus, and perhaps no better than those in the second set, the opus 25. The first study, in C major, has for its object to accustom the hand to wide extensions, the arpeggio figure nearly always covering a tenth and sometimes an eleventh. This extension should be accomplished by the fingers themselves as far as possible, and then by slightly turning the wrist. To play this study well betokens first-class execution. The second study, in A minor, has a chromatic scale for soprano with staccato chords below, and its technical object is to impart greater flexibility and usefulness to the fourth and fifth fingers of the right hand. The third, also, is a cantabile in a beautiful singing melody, with some very interesting contrasts in the middle part. Here, again, Chopin addresses himself to the weak fingers of the right hand, since these are the ones which will experience the greatest difficulty in securing a proper effect in this study. No. 4 is a very impassioned presto in C-sharp minor, in which strong single notes and octaves occur, along with an insistent and very rapid sixteenth-note motion. The effect of the whole is very strong and striking, and esthetically considered it belongs to the dramatically conceived moods of Chopin. No. 5, in G-flat major, is commonly known as the "black-key study," and its object is to accustom the hands to the black keys and to very rapid changes from one part of the keyboard to another. It is a charming piece, producing the effect of a delightful scherzo.
It is interesting to note in this connection that all of these studies and many others belonging to this set have, in recent times, been rewritten for the left hand. This has been done in various ways. Mr. Phillippe, of Paris, has simply transferred the right-hand part to the left, and left the right hand with nothing or with but little to do. Mr. Leopold Godowsky, the distinguished Russian pianist, has taken a different course. The first study he has placed with the arpeggio figure in both hands simultaneously, and a heavy melody of chords is also added. The second study gives the chromatic runs to the weak fingers of the left hand. The black-key study also is written for the left hand, while an entirely new part has been composed for the right. One of the most curious of all these arrangements of Chopin's material is that of the late eminent organist, August Haupt, of Berlin, who arranged this fourth study in C-sharp minor for the organ for Mr. Clarence Eddy, by whom it is often played in concerts with an effect extremely remarkable, especially when the pedals have the sixteenth-note motion.
It should not be forgotten that all these five studies, as well as the others in the whole collection, are tone-poems no less than exercises for the pianoforte, and they can not be said to have been played until this poetic sense is derived from them.
The romanza from the Concerto in E minor is a very beautiful nocturne-like movement, and if given with an accompaniment of second piano, or, better still, a very soft accompaniment of organ, it produces the most delightful effect.
The Impromptu in A-flat, opus 29, might just as well have been called a study, since the essential part of it is a rapid movement in eighth notes having for its object, in part at least, the freer and more delicate treatment of the left hand in accompaniments. It will require a great deal of practice to play well, but when so played it produces a very pleasing pianoforte effect. It belongs to the same class of Chopin's works as the Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor, already mentioned. The middle part of this impromptu, as in the case of the other, is essentially a nocturne-like movement.
The Nocturne in D-flat, opus 27, No. 2, is very often played. It is a very beautiful composition, and while representing a number of serious technical difficulties, esthetically considered, it is perhaps sufficiently plain to any student capable of mastering it. In all these cases it is to be observed that Chopin takes the implication of the term "nocturne" somewhat freely, often developing the idea with considerable force and dramatic spirit.
One of the most celebrated of all the compositions of Chopin is the famous Polonaise in A-flat major, which seems in the fullest manner to illustrate the description of the polonaise already quoted above, from Liszt's Chopin. This remarkable work opens with a rather striking introduction, the principal subject entering in the seventeenth measure, very bold and strong. In the forty-ninth measure an extremely forcible and dramatic idea begins which presently, in the fifty-seventh measure, gives place to a more quiet melody. The most remarkable part of this piece, and the one which has had much to do with its use by virtuoso pianists, is the middle part in E major. Here, after a series of heavy chords, a sixteenth-note motion enters in octaves for the left hand, and for the right hand a melody, which is at first soft and afterward built up. This octave middle figure continues without interruption for sixteen measures, and then, after the chords are repeated, is continued again for the same length of time. When this is properly done, the passage begins quite softly and works up by degrees until the very imposing climax at the end, and in the repetition the same thing takes place again. The difficulty consists in this insistent repetition of the same figure in the left hand, and a very clear note of Chopin's genius is seen when he changes this bass figure from E major to E-flat major. This change, although apparently not significant on paper, has the keyboard peculiarity of giving the left hand a rotary motion in the opposite direction from that necessitated in the E major, and in three measures of it the player unwinds himself, as it were, and is ready to begin again with the original figure. Still another pleasing Chopin peculiarity is noted at the close of this strong part, where there is a page or more of very delightful dreamy work, at first in G major, afterward in F minor, and so at length the original subject is resumed and the Polonaise brought to an end. A work of this magnitude admits of being considered in so many different lights as to make any short discussion of it seem fragmentary and suggestive merely, and such, in fact, is the intention of the present comments. Enough that we have in it a poetic suggestion brought to expression.
There are endless selections of compositions which might be made in order to bring together into a single chapter enough of the music of these four great masters to give a taste of their individualities, style, and sentiment. Following are examples:
PROGRAM I.Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C minor, Clavier, No. 2.Beethoven, Sonate Pathetique, opus 13.Schumann, Forest Scenes; "Entrance.""Wayside Inn.""Prophetic Bird.""Homeward."Bach, Fantasia in C minor. Loure in G (Heinze).Chopin, Nocturne in G minor, opus 37, No. 1.Waltz in A-flat, opus 42.PROGRAM II.Bach, Prelude and Fugue in D major, Clavier, No. 5.Beethoven, Sonata in D, opus 10, No. 3.Schumann, Fantasy Pieces, opus 12: "At Evening.""Excelsior.""Why?""Whims.""Dream Visions.""End of the Song."Chopin, Nocturne in B major, opus 32, No. 1.Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.PROGRAM III.Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp, Clavier, No. 3.Beethoven, Sonata in A-flat, opus 26.Schumann, Fantasy Pieces, Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8.Chopin, Nocturne in B major, opus 32, No. 1.Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.PROGRAM IV. (Regardless of difficulty.)Bach, Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue.Beethoven, Sonata, opus III. C minor.Schumann, Études Symphoniques, opus 13.Chopin, Nocturne in D-flat major, opus 27, No. 2.Polonaise in A-flat, opus 53.
To discuss these selections in detail would take us too far, for which reason only those observations will be made which seem more essential. Throughout, the intention is to alternate the thematic work of Bach and Schumann with the lyric or quasi-lyric writing of Beethoven and Chopin. While Beethoven was also at times thematic, his work is generally well balanced as to its structure, and so melodious in comparison with almost anything of Schumann (excepting a few distinctly lyric pieces) or of Bach, that it seems like lyric melody. It was also the intention in these programs to preserve an agreeable succession of keys. The first three programs are of moderate difficulty, although not so easy as might be made. Still, in the present state of piano playing there are few seminaries or private circles where these numbers can not be played well enough to afford pleasure and instruction.
Of the various Bach numbers upon the programs the following distinctions may be made: The preludes and fugues are generally contrasted in respect of the qualities of lyric and thematic writing respectively. The prelude in C minor, for instance, is almost an exercise, being without clearly expressed melody (although the accents in the soprano distinctly suggest a melody), and the whole is rapid and incisive. The fugue, on the other hand, opens with a very sprightly idea, which is carried out delightfully, quite in the manner of a scherzo. The prelude in D major, again, is very light and graceful, yet having a character somewhat between a fancy piece of tone-poetry and an exercise, being capable of receiving either construction, according to the ability and skill of the player. The fugue, on the contrary, is rather firm, resolute, and marked, yet with distinct touches of sentiment—which latter quality is always to be sought for in the playing, but without resorting to rubato. It is not enough to present these selections, they must be made to display the best effect of which they are capable. It is not a question of composers merely, but why we should love and reverence them. The prelude in C-sharp is one of the loveliest in the entire "Clavier." It is lyric in its principal motive, and there is a very pretty interlude of alternating work between the two hands upon the dominant, just before the return of the principal theme, which is quite in modern style. The fugue also is very melodious, yet at the same time rather difficult, and it will be a good player who is able to produce this fugue successfully in anything short of about a month's practice. With the last program we come upon a very different grade of difficulty, especially in the matter of interpretation, for in mere finger work the last Bach piece is not so much more difficult than the fugue in C-sharp major.
The "Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue" is a very curious illustration of Bach's genius. No one knows the circumstances under which it was written nor the time. There is absolutely nothing else in his works which is at all like it, taken as a whole, although each one of its peculiarities may perhaps be found elsewhere in his works. It opens with a bravura run in scale work,—the two hands co-operating interchangeably,—which must have the character of a bold flourish, such as a virtuoso might give upon taking his place and beginning his piece. This is followed with a delicate harmonic passage in which a melody is very distinctly suggested; a very delicate and musical passage it is. Then the bravura run returns, and then the harmonic arpeggio motive as before, but always carried out in different keys and chords. Upon these two elements the first part of the fantasia is constructed.
In the forty-ninth measure begins another chapter, in which we have a series of recitative-like phrases, the most of which end upon diminished chords and contain or suggest enharmonic modulations of extreme modern type. The recitatives are very expressive, and their proper delivery necessitates a high degree of musical sensitiveness and experience in singing. After the recitatives, at measure 76, a coda begins, which brings the fantasia to an end. The coda is perhaps the most beautiful part of this great work. I have here also forgotten to mention the series of arpeggios upon chromatic chords, beginning in measure 27. These Bach wrote merely as chords to be played arpeggio, and it was for a long time a question as to what manner of filling up the time would be nearest his intention. Mendelssohn, in one of his letters, says he wishes that he knew what Bach meant here, and I believe it is generally thought that the carrying out of the arpeggios in Hans von Bülow's edition of this piece is very near the solution suggested by Mendelssohn. At any rate, I advise using the Bülow edition, particularly as the figures are written out in full and the fingering is carefully marked—a very important consideration in one or two places in the fugue.
The fugue also is interesting, and is elaborated to two quite imposing climaxes, the first beginning in measure 60 and the other in measure 140, where the bass has the principal theme in octaves. Mr. Liebling does not regard this fugue as quite up to Bach's standard, inasmuch as Bach has repeated quite long passages in different keys without materially changing the treatment, something which he rarely does, his fertility of fancy being such that he always or nearly always avoids exactly repeating himself, no matter how many times he chooses to bring back the principal theme. The composition as a whole is by far the most modern of Bach, and it is a veritable tone-poem. In order to realize this it will be necessary to hear it several times, its elaboration being so great and the difficulty of playing so considerable that only very good players will have enough sentiment and surplus of technic to interpret it with sufficiently musical quality. But when so played it is one of the surest masterpieces in the entire repertory of the piano-forte. And in consequence of its elevated and poetic sentiment, its caprice and program-like character, it affords one of the best possible studies in Bach's style at its best.
The sonatas by Beethoven named upon the programs are of quite dissimilar value. The "Sonate Pathetique" is a very strong work indeed, and, if we have many times seen its name, we must not forget that after all it is not very often played in any one place. Moreover, new players are all the time coming on to whom this strong and original work is new. The introduction carries out the emotional spirit of the Bach fantasia, as also does the work itself. The headlong allegro, the slow, sustained, and beautiful adagio, and the easy-going finale all have their own beauties, and continue the story, which, as Beethoven thought it, was one story from beginning to end. The least satisfactory part of this work is the rondo, the tempo of which is not altogether easy to determine; I prefer it at rather a slow tempo. There is a unity of movement in this work which is not always observed. In a general way the eighth note in the introduction, the whole note in the allegro, and the eighth note in the adagio, and the half note in the rondo go at about the same rate—approximately, from sixty to seventy-two by the metronome. If any modification is made, take the rondo faster, say about eighty-four.
A very important technical point of the work is the treatment of the chords in the introduction and in the allegro. All must have a melodic quality in their highest tones, since the melody passes through the chord. Neglect of this imparts a brutal and unmusical quality to the tones of chords struck so forcibly. Throughout the work strong contrasts continually occur between the impassioned motive and the pathetic or appealing idea. These two elements struggle for mastery. The adagio is one of those slow movements for which Beethoven was noted; the cantilena is lovely and the sentiment deep and tender.
In some respects the sonata upon the second program is even more remarkable. Its general build is rather light and pleasing, and neither in length nor in dramatic contrast is it to be compared with most of the "Pathetique." Especially is this the case when we confine our attention to the light and pleasing first movement and the finale. The latter, opening with that capricious little motive which seems to say "Why don't you?" is all the way arch, sprightly, and pleasing. But the second movement is one of the strongest and most impassioned in all the sonatas. It opens grave, serious, as if fate herself impended. A very slow and appealing motive is carried out thematically, almost in the modern style of Schumann or Brahms. It is a slow movement which might have been played upon Olympus or in Walhalla—provided the dissipated gods of the old dispensations had been developed to the capacity of remorse and repentance. Out of this profoundly sad, despondent, slow movement grows the tender flower of the delicious menuetto in D major which follows it. This is not to be taken too fast, remembering that we have our fast movement still to settle with later. It is a melodious, tender, gentle movement, which is one of the most characteristic and beautiful of the kind to be found anywhere in the entire list of the sonatas. In point of technical difficulty this sonata presents no very great problems.
The Sonata in A-flat, commonly remembered from the "Funeral March," which takes the place of a slow movement, opens with an air and variations. These were for a long time the most played of anything in the entire collection of sonatas. Lately, under the influence of the greater variations of Schumann and Brahms, they are becoming relegated to the more remote seats in the musical synagogue. They are, nevertheless, very interesting variations, quite in the "character" line, each variation being a new picture, a new mood. Opposed to this kind of variations is the "formal" variation, where, although the theme is varied in its figuration and rhythm, the harmony remains unchanged, and the esthetic character of the successive variations remains practically unchanged. The "Funeral March Upon the Death of a Hero" is one of the famous pieces. It no longer presents material difficulties to the student. The scherzo must not be played too rapidly; the finale is to go about as fast as possible, and with the greatest possible lightness and delicacy.
The great Sonata in C minor, opus 111, is the last which Beethoven composed, having been written after the Ninth Symphony, about a year or two before his death. It is very difficult, technically; very serious in its spirit, and has the curious peculiarity of consisting of two movements only, excepting a short but very profound and serious introduction. The first movement is very impassioned, and the entire movement is developed from one or two short germs, thematically, quite in the manner which Schumann took up and accomplished so much with. The spirit of the allegro is almost like that of the "Sonate Pathetique," but naturally much more mature. The slow movement, again, consists of an arietta of two eight-measure strains—the first in C major, the second in A minor. These two strains alternate throughout the variations, which are of the formal order; but here Beethoven manages to attain a very considerable development of interest, and rises to an imposing climax without ever quite forsaking the peace of the opening measures of the arietta. The variations are quite difficult to play, and the ending is very troublesome to treat in any manner to make it sound as one thinks an ending should. The whole, while perhaps but little more characteristic of Beethoven than the "Sonata Appassionata" or the great sonata for "Hammerklavier," opus 106, is nevertheless a very beautiful illustration of Beethoven's tone-poetry for pianoforte.
The Schumann "Études Symphoniques," here chosen for illustrating this capricious and humoristic master, is also a most astonishing work. It is in the form of a theme and variations, but the variations almost require the newspaper libel-saving reservation "alleged," since the theme in some of them is not referred to at all, while in others it occurs but for occasional measures here and there. Except for the monotony of key, this piece might as well have been called "studies" as variations. Nevertheless it is a most delightful example of Schumann's imagination and of tone-poetry for pianoforte. Each variation or successive movement is a new leaf from the world of the ideal. Nothing more contrasted, no more agreeable succession of moods, no more imposing example of poetic treatment of the pianoforte is to be found in the entire literature of the instrument. It is a work which the more one hears the more one likes it. It is curious, now that this work is so often played, to remember that Schumann wrote concerning it to a friend that he had just been writing a set of variations which interested him very much, but he doubted whether they would ever be played in public. Naturally, he said, it is unfit for such a position; it is for the musician in his closet. Yet of all the Schumann piano works this one probably is oftenest played, the immortal fantasia in C not excepted.
The other pieces here omitted from comment have perhaps already received sufficient attention in the earlier programs where they first appeared.
It will be quite possible for the player to substitute still other numbers in place of some of those here, or to rearrange the matter here presented, for the sake of using pieces which one can play well. In arranging the programs, however, it is desirable to preserve an agreeable succession of keys, a due contrast of moods, and a fitting illustration of the masters concerned.