A LINK WITH CHOPIN

New Zealand Times, Volume L, Issue 11435, 3 February 1923, Page 13

A LINK WITH CHOPIN

A SKETCH (Special to “N.Z. Times.”) . There was a great bond of sympathy between the old Frenchman—a professor of pianoforte at the College ot Music —and his young pupil. Amongst the Italians, Germans, and Russians —all younger men who taught them, the old Frenchman stood out in great contrast. Some of them were so stolid, some so excitable, some so fiery, that it was a relief to come into his presence for a lesson after, perhaps, half an hour’s concentrated excitement with one of the singing masters. One of these had a quite ungovernable temper, and a considerable amount of the lesson time was wasted while this man stamped up and down the room, and tore his hair, when the phrasing or enunciation of the pupil displeased him. When the first frenzy of his temper somewhat abated, he would fling himself into a chair, put his head in his hands, and emit long woebegone groans, very distressing to the pupil, and not calculated to ensure quiet, controlled breathing, when the lesson was resumed. Yes', the old Frenchman was a contrast. He had been on the staff a great number of years, and represented what might be called the romantic school of musio. At his yearly pianoforte recital — looked forward to with great interest by lovers of music in the city—-the works of Ohopin, Mendelssohn, Schubert and Beethoven were always to be found on the programme. Among his many pupils, the quiet girl, with what he called “temperament,” interested him most. Her execution was not particularly brilliant, but for emotional playing, and a unique interpretation, which entranced those who eschew the, commonplace—and which sometimes astonished the old man—he considered her his best pupil. >And the girl looked forward to her two weekly lessons at the college with great interest, for after the lesson 'was over she loved to draw the old Frenchman out, on his early student days in Paris. He was between seventy and eighty years old, hut had a wonderful memory and delighted to tell many unpublished anecdotes of that most brilliant of the many brilliant periods in Parisian artistic life. That time when Madame Recamier had her world-famous salon, and Madame de Stael was in. i he zenith of her fame, when the young Polish composer Chopin came from Warsaw, and took Paris by storm, becoming the centre of a group of admirers, literary, artistic, and musical, which .included such famous men as Liszt-, Berlioz, Heine, and Balzac. And the old man also told many tales of the devotion of George Sand, to the young pianist and composer, how she nursed him, when he sulfered from a severe chest complaint, and after getting a little better, he made his famous visit to England and Scotland, captivating his audiences, whenever he appeared in public or private. Perhaps to Chopin, more than to any other famous pianist, do the haunting words apply: Poses of sbund that strew melodious leaves along the silent ground. And musio that is music’s very soul without one touch of earth, Too tender even for sorrow, too bright for mirth. His musio will always occupy a unique position, being marked by so much individuality, and also because so many of his compositions were originated from the wonderful rhythmic measures of old Polish dances. Aud between the anecdotes the old professor often played for her “bits” from different composers’ works, or some of his own compositions, and the girl used to feel so sorry when the next pupil arrived, and put an end to the liitlo special treat. She knew that when this old mandied she could never meet anyone again who had personally known many of these celebrities; he seemed a wonderful link between that brilliant period and the present. She envied anyone who had such memories; the composers of that time she would always be specially interested in, and the love poems of Heine would always be associated with some of the tenderest of Chopin’s compositions.

At examination times, at the college, the old professor often gave his pupils a few extra lessons at liis private house. In after years some of the pupils could recall that spacious room where he had liis “concert grand ; ” beside which hung a life-size portrait of his mother—a beautiful Russian Pole. Clad in a long straight velvet gown, with a pink rose and a cluster of leaves, as her only adornment, it was a beautiful picture, her soft eyes were full of sympathy; and as the old man looked up at her he said in a reminiscent tone: “Ah! She was the beautiful woman, for she had a soul!” And hanging on the walls were many laurel wreaths, tied with faded ribbons and with little inscriptions attached. . All were trophies, belonging to his earlier days when, as a famous pianist, he made constant tours of Europe. The lesson over, he gave some kindly advice about the coming examination, and implored the girls not to overpractise, as the very best preparation for an examination or a pianoforte recital was a day’s rest and a closed piano. And before leaving, the girl’s friend who accompanied her, asked as a special favour if he would play for them. He was pleased to comply with the request, and gave a fine interpretation of one of Chopin’s nocturnes, a most poetic rendering of the first movement of Beethoven’s “Moonlight” sonata, then aa the last notes died away he improvised: a fascinating little modulation into a composition of his own, which for fairy illusiveness, and of fantastic grace, was a perfect gem. And as he played the snri shone in on his long white- hair, his mobile refined face, liis blue veined hands, and on his still upright figure, despite the fact that so very many years had passed over liis head—and ever and anon, he looked upwards to hi® msAher’s spirituello face in mute adorn lion. A few grand chords brought the little recital to an end. Ho turned to his pupil and said how much he always liked! playing for tboso who “had the temperament,” for those who “understood.” Then he crossed the room, and opened an old bureau, and taking out a photograph of himself, inscribed it with his autograph, and presented it, with an old-world grace, and his best wishes to his young pupil, whom he said “had the temperament.” —LALTRA JEAN VICTORY.