Frederick Chopin, as a Man and Musician — Volume 1 eBook

A musician travelling in 1841 in Poland sent at the time to the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik a series of “Reiseblatter” (Notes of Travel), which contain so charming and vivid a description of this interesting personality that I cannot resist the temptation to translate and insert it here almost without any abridgment.  Two noteworthy opinions of the writer may be fitly prefixed to this quotation—­namely, that Elsner was a Pole with all his heart and soul, indeed, a better one than thousands that are natives of the country, and that, like Haydn, he possessed the quality of writing better the older he grew:—­

The first musical person of the town [Warsaw] is still the old, youthful Joseph Elsner, a veteran master of our art, who is as amiable as he is truly estimable.  In our day one hardly meets with a notable Polish musician who has not studied composition under Pan [i.e., Mr.] Elsner; and he loves all his pupils, and all speak of him with enthusiasm, and, according to the Polish fashion, kiss the old master’s shoulder, whereupon he never forgets to kiss them heartily on both cheeks.  Even Charles Kurpinski, the pensioned Capelhneister of the Polish National Theatre, whose hair is already grey, is, if I am not very much misinformed, also a pupil of Joseph Elsner’s.  One is often mistaken with regard to the outward appearance of a celebrated man; I mean, one forms often a false idea of him before one has seen him and knows a portrait of him.  I found Elsner almost exactly as I had imagined him.  Wisocki, the pianist, also a pupil of his, took me to him.  Pan Elsner lives in the Dom Pyarow [House of Piarists].  One has to start early if one wishes to find him at home; for soon after breakfast he goes out, and rarely returns to his cell before evening.  He inhabits, like a genuine church composer, two cells of the old Piarist Monastery in Jesuit Street, and in the dark passages which lead to his rooms one sees here and there faded laid-aside pictures of saints lying about, and old church banners hanging down.  The old gentleman was still in bed when we arrived, and sent his servant to ask us to wait a little in the anteroom, promising to be with us immediately.  All the walls of this room, or rather cell, were hung to the ceiling with portraits of musicians, among them some very rare names and faces.  Mr.

Elsner has continued this collection down to the present time; also the portraits of Liszt, Thalberg, Chopin, and Clara Wieck shine down from the old monastic walls.  I had scarcely looked about me in this large company for a few minutes, when the door of the adjoining room opened, and a man of medium height (not to say little), somewhat stout, with a round, friendly countenance, grey hair, but very lively eyes, enveloped in a warm fur dressing- gown, stepped up to us, comfortably but quickly, and bade us welcome.  Wisocki kissed him, according to the Polish fashion, as a token of respect, on the right shoulder, and introduced me to him, whereupon