PARIS IN 1831.--LIFE IN THE STREETS.--ROMANTICISM AND LIBERALISM.--ROMANTICISM IN LITERATURE.--CHIEF LITERARY PUBLICATIONS OF THE TIME.--THE PICTORIAL ARTS.--MUSIC AND MUSICIANS.--CHOPIN"S OPINION OF THE GALAXY OF SINGERS THEN PERFORMING AT THE VARIOUS OPERA-HOUSES.
Chopin"s sensations on plunging, after his long stay in the stagnant pool of Vienna, into the boiling sea of Paris might have been easily imagined, even if he had not left us a record of them. What newcomer from a place less populous and inhabited by a less vivacious race could help wondering at and being entertained by the vastness, variety, and bustle that surrounded him there?
Paris offers anything you may wish [writes Chopin]. You can amuse yourself, mope, laugh, weep, in short, do whatever you like; no one notices it, because thousands do the same.
Everybody goes his own way....The Parisians are a peculiar people. When evening sets in one hears nothing but the crying of t.i.tles of little new books, which consist of from three to four sheets of nonsense. The boys know so well how to recommend their wares that in the end--willing or not--one buys one for a sou. They bear t.i.tles such as these:--"L"art de faire, des amours, et de les conserver ensuite"; "Les amours des pretres"; "L"Archeveque de Paris avec Madame la d.u.c.h.esse de Berry"; and a thousand similar absurdities which, however, are often very wittily written. One cannot but be astonished at the means people here make use of to earn a few pence.
All this and much more may be seen in Paris every day, but in 1831 Paris life was not an everyday life. It was then and there, if at any time and anywhere, that the "roaring loom of Time" might be heard: a new garment was being woven for an age that longed to throw off the wornout, tattered, and ill-fitting one inherited from its predecessors; and discontent and hopefulness were the impulses that set the shuttle so busily flying hither and thither. This movement, a reaction against the conventional formalism and barren, superficial scepticism of the preceding age, had ever since the beginning of the century been growing in strength and breadth. It pervaded all the departments of human knowledge and activity--politics, philosophy, religion, literature, and the arts. The doctrinaire school in politics and the eclectic school in philosophy were as characteristic products of the movement as the romantic school in poetry and art. We recognise the movement in Lamennais" attack on religious indifference, and in the gospel of a "New Christianity" revealed by Saint Simon and preached and developed by Bazard and Enfantin, as well as in the teaching of Cousin, Villemain, and Guizot, and in the works of V. Hugo, Delacroix, and others. Indeed, unless we keep in view as far as possible all the branches into which the broad stream divides itself, we shall not be able to understand the movement aright either as a whole or in its parts. V. Hugo defines the militant--i.e., negative side of romanticism as liberalism in literature. The positive side of the liberalism of the time might, on the other hand, not inaptly be described as romanticism in speculation and practice. This, however, is matter rather for a history of civilisation than for a biography of an artist. Therefore, without further enlarging on it, I shall let Chopin depict the political aspect of Paris in 1831 as he saw it, and then attempt myself a slight outline sketch of the literary and artistic aspect of the French capital, which signifies France.
Louis Philippe had been more than a year on the throne, but the agitation of the country was as yet far from being allayed:--
There is now in Paris great want and little money in circulation. One meets many shabby individuals with wild physiognomies, and sometimes one hears an excited, menacing discussion on Louis Philippe, who, as well as his ministers, hangs only by a single hair. The populace is disgusted with the Government, and would like to overthrow it, in order to make an end of the misery; but the Government is too well on its guard, and the least concourse of people is at once dispersed by the mounted police.
Riots and attentats were still the order of the day, and no opportunity for a demonstration was let slip by the parties hostile to the Government. The return of General Ramorino from Poland, where he had taken part in the insurrection, offered such an opportunity. This adventurer, a natural son of Marshal Lannes, who began his military career in the army of Napoleon, and, after fighting wherever fighting was going on, ended it on the Piazza d"Armi at Turin, being condemned by a Piedmontese court-martial to be shot for disobedience to orders, was hardly a worthy recipient of the honours bestowed upon him during his journey through Germany and France. But the personal merit of such popular heroes of a day is a consideration of little moment; they are mere counters, counters representative of ideas and transient whims.
The enthusiasm of the populace for our general is of course known to you [writes Chopin to his friend Woyciechowski].
Paris would not be behind in this respect. [Footnote: The Poles and everything Polish were at that time the rage in Paris; thus, for instance, at one of the theatres where dramas were generally played, they represented now the whole history of the last Polish insurrection, and the house was every night crammed with people who wished to see the combats and national costumes.] The Ecole de Medecine and the jeune France, who wear their beards and cravats according to a certain pattern, intend to honour him with a great demonstration. Every political party--I speak of course only of the ultras--has its peculiar badge: the Carlists have green waistcoats, the Republicans and Napoleonists (and these form the jeune France) [red], [Footnote: Chopin has omitted this word, which seems to be necessary to complete the sentence; at least, it is neither in the Polish nor German edition of Karasowski"s book.] the Saint-Simonians who profess a new religion, wear blue, and so forth. Nearly a thousand of these young people marched with a tricolour through the town in order to give Ramorino an ovation.
Although he was at home, and notwithstanding the shouting of "Vive les Polonais!" he did not show himself, not wishing to expose himself to any unpleasantness on the part of the Government. His adjutant came out and said that the general was sorry he could not receive them and begged them to return some other day. But the next day he took other lodgings. When some days afterwards an immense ma.s.s of people--not only young men, but also rabble that had congregated near the Pantheon--proceeded to the other side of the Seine to Ramorino"s house, the crowd increased like an avalanche till it was dispersed by several charges of the mounted police who had stationed themselves at the Pont Neuf. Although many were wounded, new ma.s.ses of people gathered on the Boulevards under my windows in order to join those who were expected from the other side of the Seine. The police was now helpless, the crowd increased more and more, till at last a body of infantry and a squadron of hussars advanced; the commandant ordered the munic.i.p.al guard and the troops to clear the footpaths and street of the curious and riotous mob and to arrest the ringleaders. (This is the free nation!) The panic spread with the swiftness of lightning: the shops were closed, the populace flocked together at all the corners of the streets, and the orderlies who galloped through the streets were hissed. All windows were crowded by spectators, as on festive occasions with us at home, and the excitement lasted from eleven o"clock in the morning till eleven o"clock at night. I thought that the affair would have a bad end; but towards midnight they sang "Allons enfants de la patrie!" and went home. I am unable to describe to you the impression which the horrid voices of this riotous, discontented mob made upon me! Everyone was afraid that the riot would be continued next morning, but that was not the case. Only Gren.o.ble has followed the example of Lyons; however, one cannot tell what may yet come to pa.s.s in the world!
The length and nature of Chopin"s account show what a lively interest he took in the occurrences of which he was in part an eye and ear-witness, for he lived on the fourth story of a house (No. 27) on the Boulevard Poissonniere, opposite the Cite Bergere, where General Ramorino lodged.
But some of his remarks show also that the interest he felt was by no means a pleasurable one, and probably from this day dates his fear and horror of the mob. And now we will turn from politics, a theme so distasteful to Chopin that he did not like to hear it discussed and could not easily be induced to take part in its discussion, to a theme more congenial, I doubt not, to all of us.
Literary romanticism, of which Chateaubriand and Madame de Stael were the harbingers, owed its existence to a longing for a greater fulness of thought, a greater intenseness of feeling, a greater appropriateness and adequateness of expression, and, above all, a greater truth to life and nature. It was felt that the degenerated cla.s.sicists were "barren of imagination and invention," offered in their insipid artificialities nothing but "rhetoric, bombast, fleurs de college, and Latin-verse poetry," clothed "borrowed ideas in trumpery imagery," and presented themselves with a "conventional elegance and n.o.blesse than which there was nothing more common." On the other hand, the works of the master-minds of England, Germany, Spain, and Italy, which were more and more translated and read, opened new, undreamt-of vistas. The Bible, Homer, and Shakespeare began now to be considered of all books the most worthy to be studied. And thus it came to pa.s.s that in a short time a most complete revolution was accomplished in literature, from abject slavery to unlimited freedom.
There are neither rules nor models [says V. Hugo, the leader of the school, in the preface to his Cromwell (1827)], or rather there are no other rules than the general laws of nature which encompa.s.s the whole art, and the special laws which for every composition result from the conditions of existence peculiar to each subject. The former are eternal, internal, and remain; the latter variable, external, and serve only once.
Hence theories, poetics, and systems were to be broken up, and the old plastering which covered the f.a.gade of art was to be pulled down.
From rules and theories the romanticists appealed to nature and truth, without forgetting, however, that nature and art are two different things, and that the truth of art can never be absolute reality. The drama, for instance, must be "a concentrating mirror which, so far from enfeebling, collects and condenses the colouring rays and transforms a glimmer into a light, a light into a flame." To pa.s.s from form to matter, the attention given by the romanticists to history is particularly to be noted. Pierre Dubois, the director of the philosophical and literary journal "Le Globe," the organ of romanticism (1824-1832), contrasts the poverty of invention in the works of the cla.s.sicists with the inexhaustible wealth of reality, "the scenes of disorder, of pa.s.sion, of fanaticism, of hypocrisy, and of intrigue,"
recorded in history. What the dramatist has to do is to perform the miracle "of reanimating the personages who appear dead on the pages of a chronicle, of discovering by a.n.a.lysis all the shades of the pa.s.sions which caused these hearts to beat, of recreating their language and costume." It is a significant fact that Sainte-Beuve opened the campaign of romanticism in "Le Globe" with a "Tableau de la poesie francaise au seizieme siecle," the century of the "Pleiade," and of Rabelais and Montaigne. It is a still more significant fact that the members of the "Cenacle," the circle of kindred minds that gathered around Victor Hugo--Alfred de Vigny, Emile Deschamps, Sainte-Beuve, David d"Angers, and others--"studied and felt the real Middle Ages in their architecture, in their chronicles, and in their picturesque vivacity."
Nor should we overlook in connection with romanticism Cousin"s aesthetic teaching, according to which, G.o.d being the source of all beauty as well as of all truth, religion, and morality, "the highest aim of art is to awaken in its own way the feeling of the infinite." Like all reformers the romanticists were stronger in destruction than in construction.
Their fundamental doctrines will hardly be questioned by anyone in our day, but the works of art which they reared on them only too often give just cause for objection and even rejection. However, it is not surprising that, with the physical and spiritual world, with time and eternity at their arbitrary disposal, they made themselves sometimes guilty of misrule. To "extract the invariable laws from the general order of things, and the special from the subject under treatment," is no easy matter. V. Hugo tells us that it is only for a man of genius to undertake such a task, but he himself is an example that even a man so gifted is fallible. In a letter written in the French capital on January 14, 1832, Mendelssohn says of the "so-called romantic school" that it has infected all the Parisians, and that on the stage they think of nothing but the plague, the gallows, the devil, childbeds, and the like.
Nor were the romances less extravagant than the dramas. The lyrical poetry, too, had its defects and blemishes. But if it had laid itself open to the blame of being "very unequal and very mixed," it also called for the praise of being "rich, richer than any lyrical poetry France had known up to that time." And if the romanticists, as one of them, Sainte-Beuve, remarked, "abandoned themselves without control and without restraint to all the instincts of their nature, and also to all the pretensions of their pride, or even to the silly tricks of their vanity," they had, nevertheless, the supreme merit of having resuscitated what was extinct, and even of having created what never existed in their language. Although a discussion of romanticism without a characterisation of its specific and individual differences is incomplete, I must bring this part of my remarks to a close with a few names and dates ill.u.s.trative of the literary aspect of Paris in 1831.
I may, however, inform the reader that the subject of romanticism will give rise to further discussion in subsequent chapters.
The most notable literary events of the year 1831 were the publication of Victor Hugo"s "Notre Dame de Paris," "Feuilles d"automne," and "Marion Delorme"; Dumas" "Charles VII"; Balzac"s "La peau de chagrin"; Eugene Sue"s "Ata Gull"; and George Sand"s first novel, "Rose et Blanche," written conjointly with Sandeau. Alfred de Musset and Theophile Gautier made their literary debuts in 1830, the one with "Contes d"Espagne et d"ltalie," the other with "Poesies." In the course of the third decade of the century Lamartine had given to the world "Meditations poetiques," "Nouvelles Meditations poetiques," and "Harmonies poetiques et religieuses"; Victor Hugo, "Odes et Ballades,"
"Les Orientales," three novels, and the dramas "Cromwell" and "Hernani"; Dumas, "Henri III et sa Cour," and "Stockholm, Fontainebleau et Rome"; Alfred de Vigny, "Poemes antiques et modernes" and "Cinq-Mars"; Balzac, "Scenes de la vie privee" and "Physiologie du Mariage." Besides the authors just named there were at this time in full activity in one or the other department of literature, Nodier, Beranger, Merimee, Delavigne, Scribe, Sainte-Beuve, Villemain, Cousin, Michelet, Guizot, Thiers, and many other men and women of distinction.
A glance at the Salon of 1831 will suffice to give us an idea of the then state of the pictorial art in France. The pictures which attracted the visitors most were: Delacroix"s "G.o.ddess of Liberty on the barricades"; Delaroche"s "Richelieu conveying Cinq-Mars and De Thou to Lyons," "Mazarin on his death-bed," "The sons of Edward in the Tower,"
and "Cromwell beside the coffin of diaries I."; Ary Scheffer"s "Faust and Margaret," "Leonore," "Talleyrand," "Henri IV.," and "Louis Philippe"; Robert"s "Pifferari," "Burial," and "Mowers"; Horace Vernet"s "Judith," "Capture of the Princes Conde," "Conti, and Longueville,"
"Camille Desmoulins," and "Pius VIII" To enumerate only a few more of the most important exhibitors I shall yet mention Decamps, Lessore, Schnetz, Judin, and Isabey. The dry list will no doubt conjure up in the minds of many of my readers vivid reproductions of the masterpieces mentioned or suggested by the names of the artists.
Romanticism had not invaded music to the same extent as the literary and pictorial arts. Berlioz is the only French composer who can be called in the fullest sense of the word a romanticist, and whose genius ent.i.tles him to a position in his art similar to those occupied by V. Hugo and Delacroix in literature and painting. But in 1831 his works were as yet few in number and little known. Having in the preceding year obtained the prix de Rome, he was absent from Paris till the latter part of 1832, when he began to draw upon himself the attention, if not the admiration, of the public by the concerts in which he produced his startlingly original works. Among the foreign musicians residing in the French capital there were many who had adopted the principles of romanticism, but none of them was so thoroughly imbued with its spirit as Liszt--witness his subsequent publications. But although there were few French composers who, strictly speaking, could be designated romanticists, it would be difficult to find among the younger men one who had not more or less been affected by the intellectual atmosphere.
An opera, "La Marquise de Brinvilliers," produced in 1831 at the Opera-Comique, introduces to us no less than nine dramatic composers, the libretto of Scribe and Castil-Blaze being set to music by Cherubini, Auber, Batton, Berton, Boieldieu, Blangini, Carafa, Herold, and Paer.
[Footnote: Chopin makes a mistake, leaving out of account Boieldieu, when he says in speaking of "La Marquise de Brinvilliers" that the opera was composed by eight composers.] Cherubini, who towers above all of them, was indeed the high-priest of the art, the grand-master of the craft. Although the Nestor of composers, none equalled him in manly vigour and perennial youth. When seventy-six years of age (in 1836) he composed his fine Requiem in D minor for three-part male chorus, and in the following year a string quartet and quintet. Of his younger colleagues so favourable an account cannot be given. The youngest of them, Batton, a grand prix, who wrote unsuccessful operas, then took to the manufacturing of artificial flowers, and died as inspector at the Conservatoire, need not detain us. Berton, Paer, Blangini, Carafa (respectively born in 1767, 1771, 1781, and 1785), once composers who enjoyed the public"s favour, had lost or were losing their popularity at the time we are speaking of; Rossini, Auber, and others having now come into fashion. They present a saddening spectacle, these faded reputations, these dethroned monarchs! What do we know of Blangini, the "Musical Anacreon," and his twenty operas, one hundred and seventy two-part "Notturni," thirty-four "Romances," &c.? Where are Paer"s oratorios, operas, and cantatas performed now? Attempts were made in later years to revive some of Carafa"s earlier works, but the result was on each occasion a failure. And poor Berton? He could not bear the public"s neglect patiently, and vented his rage in two pamphlets, one of them ent.i.tled "De la musique mecanique et de la musique philosophique,"
which neither converted nor harmed anyone. Boieldieu, too, had to deplore the failure of his last opera, "Les deux nuits" (1829), but then his "La Dame blanche," which had appeared in 1825, and his earlier "Jean de Paris" were still as fresh as ever. Herold had only in this year (1831) scored his greatest success with "Zampa." As to Auber, he was at the zenith of his fame. Among the many operas he had already composed, there were three of his best--"Le Macon," "La Muette," and "Fra Diavolo"--and this inimitable master of the genre sautillant had still a long series of charming works in petto. To exhaust the list of prominent men in the dramatic department we have to add only a few names. Of the younger masters I shall mention Halevy, whose most successful work, "La Juive," did not come out till 1835, and Adam, whose best opera, "Le postilion de Longjumeau," saw the foot-lights in 1836. Of the older masters we must not overlook Lesueur, the composer of "Les Bardes,"
an opera which came out in 1812, and was admired by Napoleon. Lesueur, distinguished as a composer of dramatic and sacred music, and a writer on musical matters, had, however, given up all professional work with the exception of teaching composition at the Conservatoire. In fact, almost all the above-named old gentlemen, although out of fashion as composers, occupied important positions in the musical commonwealth as professors at that inst.i.tution. Speaking of professors I must not forget to mention old Reicha (born in 1770), the well-known theorist, voluminous composer of instrumental music, and esteemed teacher of counterpoint and composition.
But the young generation did not always look up to these venerable men with the reverence due to their age and merit. Chopin, for instance, writes:--
Reicha I know only by sight. You can imagine how curious I am to make his personal acquaintance. I have already seen some of his pupils, but from them I have not obtained a favourable opinion of their teacher. He does not love music, never frequents the concerts of the Conservatoire, will not speak with anyone about music, and, when he gives lessons, looks only at his watch. Cherubini behaves in a similar manner; he is always speaking of cholera and the revolution. These gentlemen are mummies; one must content one"s self with respectfully lookingat them from afar, and studying their works for instruction.
In these remarks of Chopin the concerts of the Conservatoire are made mention of; they were founded in 1828 by Habeneck and others and intended for the cultivation of the symphonic works of the great masters, more especially of Beethoven. Berlioz tells us in his Memoires, with his usual vivacity and causticity, what impressions the works of Beethoven made upon the old gentlemen above-named. Lesueur considered instrumental music an inferior genre, and although the C minor Symphony quite overwhelmed him, he gave it as his opinion that "one ought not to write such music." Cherubini was profoundly irritated at the success of a master who undermined his dearest theories, but he dared not discharge the bile that was gathering within him. That, however, he had the courage of his opinion may be gathered from what, according to Mendelssohn, he said of Beethoven"s later works: "Ca me fait eternuer."
Berton looked down with pity on the whole modern German school.
Boieldieu, who hardly knew what to think of the matter, manifested "a childish surprise at the simplest harmonic combinations which departed somewhat from the three chords which he had been using all his life."
Paer, a cunning Italian, was fond of letting people know that he had known Beethoven, and of telling stories more or less unfavourable to the great man, and flattering to the narrator. The critical young men of the new generation were, however, not altogether fair in their judgments; Cherubini, at least, and Boieldieu too, deserved better treatment at their hands.
In 1830 Auber and Rossini (who, after his last opera "Guillaume Tell,"
was resting on his laurels) were the idols of the Parisians, and reigned supreme on the operatic stage. But in 1831 Meyerbeer established himself as a third power beside them, for it was in that year that "Robert le Diable" was produced at the Academic Royale de Musique. Let us hear what Chopin says of this event. Speaking of the difficulties with which composers of operas have often to contend he remarks:--
Even Meyerbeer, who for ten years had been favourably known in the musical world, waited, worked, and paid in Paris for three years in vain before he succeeded in bringing about the performance of his opera "Robert le Diable," which now causes such a furore. Auber had got the start of Meyerbeer with his works, which are very pleasing to the taste of the people, and he did not readily make room for the foreigner at the Grand Opera.
And again:--
If there was ever a brilliant mise en scene at the Opera- Italien, I cannot believe that it equalled that of Robert le Diable, the new five-act opera of Meyerbeer, who has also written "Il Crociato." "Robert" is a masterpiece of the new school, where the devils sing through speaking-trumpets and the dead rise from their graves, but not as in "Szarlatan"
[an opera of Kurpinski"s], only from fifty to sixty persons all at once! The stage represents the interior of a convent ruin illuminated by the clear light of the full moon whose rays fall on the graves of the nuns. In the last act appear in brilliant candle-light monks with ancense, and from behind the scene are heard the solemn tones of the organ. Meyerbeer has made himself immortal by this work; but he had to wait more than three years before he could get it performed.
People say that he has spent more than 20,000 francs for the organ and other things made use of in the opera.
[Footnote: This was the current belief at the time, which Meyerbeer, however, declares to be false in a letter addressed to Veron, the director of the Opera:--"L"orgue a ete paye par vous, fourni par vous, comme toutes les choses que reclamait la mise en scene de Robert, et je dois declarer que loin de vous tenir au strict neccessaire, vous avez depa.s.se de bcaucoup les obligations ordinaires d"un directeur envers les auteurs et le public."]
The creative musicians having received sufficient attention, let us now turn for a moment to the executive ones. Of the pianists we shall hear enough in the next chapter, and therefore will pa.s.s them by for the present. Chopin thought that there were in no town more pianists than in Paris, nor anywhere more a.s.ses and virtuosos. Of the many excellent virtuosos on stringed and wind-instruments only a few of the most distinguished shall be mentioned. Baillot, the veteran violinist; Franchomme, the young violoncellist; Brod, the oboe-player; and Tulou, the flutist. Beriot and Lafont, although not constant residents like these, may yet be numbered among the Parisian artists. The French capital could boast of at least three first-rate orchestras--that of the Conservatoire, that of the Academic Royale, and that of the Opera-Italien. Chopin, who probably had on December 14 not yet heard the first of these, takes no notice of it, but calls the orchestra of the theatre Feydeau (Opera-Comique) excellent. Cherubini seems to have thought differently, for on being asked why he did not allow his operas to be performed at that inst.i.tution, he answered:--"Je ne fais pas donner des operas sans choeur, sans orchestre, sans chanteurs, et sans decorations." The Opera-Comique had indeed been suffering from bankruptcy; still, whatever its shortcomings were, it was not altogether without good singers, in proof of which a.s.sertion may be named the tenor Chollet, Madame Casimir, and Mdlle. Prevost. But it was at the Italian Opera that a constellation of vocal talent was to be found such as has perhaps at no time been equalled: Malibran-Garcia, Pasta, Schroder-Devrient, Rubini, Lablache, and Santini. Nor had the Academic, with Nourrit, Leva.s.seur, Derivis, Madame Damoreau-Cinti, and Madame Dorus, to shrink from a comparison. Imagine the treat it must have been to be present at the concert which took place at the Italian Opera on December 25, 1831, and the performers at which comprised artists such as Malibran, Rubini, Lablache, Santini, Madame Raimbaux, Madame Schroder-Devrient, Madame Casadory, Herz, and De Beriot!
Chopin was so full of admiration for what he had heard at the three operatic establishments that he wrote to his master Elsner:--
It is only here that one can learn what singing is. I believe that not Pasta, but Malibran-Garcia is now the greatest singer in Europe. Prince Valentin Radziwill is quite enraptured by her, and we often wish you were here, for you would be charmed with her singing.
The following extracts from a letter to his friend Woyciechowski contain some more of Chopin"s criticism:--
As regards the opera, I must tell you that I never heard so fine a performance as I did last week, when the "Barber of Seville" was given at the Italian Opera, with Lablache, Rubini, and Malibran-Garcia in the princ.i.p.al parts. Of "Oth.e.l.lo" there is likewise an excellent rendering in prospect, further also of "L"Italiana in Algeri." Paris has in this respect never offered so much as now. You can have no idea of Lablache. People say that Pasta"s voice has somewhat failed, but I never heard in all my life such heavenly singing as hers. Malibran embraces with her wonderful voice a compa.s.s of three octaves; her singing is quite unique in its way, enchanting! Rubini, an excellent tenor, makes endless roulades, often too many colorature, vibrates and trills continually, for which he is rewarded with the greatest applause. His mezza voce is incomparable. A Schroder-Devrient is now making her appearance, but she does not produce such a furore here as in Germany. Signora Malibran personated Oth.e.l.lo, Schroder-Devrient Desdemona. Malibran is little, the German lady taller. One thought sometimes that Desdemona was going to strangle Oth.e.l.lo. It was a very expensive performance; I paid twenty-four francs for my seat, and did so because I wished to see Malibran play the part of the Moor, which she did not do particularly well. The orchestra was excellent, but the mise en scene in the Italian Opera is nothing compared with that of the French Academie Royale...Madame Damoreau-Cinti sings also very beautifully; I prefer her singing to that of Malibran. The latter astonishes one, but Cinti charms. She sings the chromatic scales and colorature almost more perfectly than the famous flute-player Tulou plays them. It is hardly possible to find a more finished execution. In Nourrit, the first tenor of the Grand Opera, [Footnote: It may perhaps not be superfluous to point out that Academie Royale (Imperial, or Nationale, as the case may be) de Musique, or simply Academie de Musique, and Grand Opera, or simply Opera, are different names for one and the same thing--namely, the princ.i.p.al opera-house in France, the inst.i.tution whose specialties are grand opera and ballet.]
one admires the warmth of feeling which speaks out of his singing. Chollet, the first tenor of the Opera-Comique, the best performer of Fra Diavolo, and excellent in the operas "Zampa" and "Fiancee," has a manner of his own in conceiving the parts. He captivates all with his beautiful voice, and is the favourite of the public.
CHAPTER XV.
1831-1832.
ACQUAINTANCES AND FRIENDS: CHERUBINI, BAILLOT, FRANCHOMME, LISZT, MILLER, OSBORNE, MENDELSSOHN.--CHOPIN AND KALKBRENNER.--CHOPIN"S AIMS AS AN ARTIST.--KALKBRENNER"S CHARACTER AS A MAN AND ARTIST.--CHOPIN"S FIRST PARIS CONCERT.--FETIS.--CHOPIN PLAYS AT A CONCERT GIVEN BY THE PRINCE DE LA MOSKOWA.--HIS STATE OF MIND.--LOSS OF HIS POLISH LETTERS.--TEMPORARILY STRAITENED CIRc.u.mSTANCES AND BRIGHTENING PROSPECTS.--PATRONS AND WELL-WISHERS.--THE "IDEAL."--A LETTER TO HILLER.
Chopin brought only a few letters of introduction with him to Paris: one from Dr. Malfatti to Paer, and some from others to music-publishers.
Through Paer he was made acquainted with Cherubini, Rossini, Baillot, and Kalkbrenner. Although Chopin in one of his early Paris letters calls Cherubini a mummy, he seems to have subsequently been more favourably impressed by him. At any rate, Ferdinand Hiller--who may have accompanied the new-comer, if he did not, as he thinks he did, introduce him, which is not reconcilable with his friend"s statement that Paer made him acquainted with Cherubini--told me that Chopin conceived a liking for the burbero maestro, of whom Mendelssohn remarked that he composed everything with his head without the help of his heart.