[1] Uta Goebl-Streicher, Frédéric Chopin. Einblicke in Unterricht und Umfeld – Die Briefe seiner Lieblingsschülerin Friederike Müller, Paris 1839-1845, München-Salzburg (Musikverlag Katzbichler) 2018. There is only one thing wrong with such a huge work, it was not intended for non-German scholars. The diplomatic copy, in fact, poses many obstacles to reading for non-Germans: the spelling of the first half of the nineteenth century, the variations in the spelling of the same words, the uneven punctuation, certain uniquely Viennese expressions, Müller's own writing errors, the non-literary but colloquial syntax, constitute real barriers for those of us who are not native speakers of German. Only the French passages are translated, quite well in fact, into literary German (according, however, to the detestable reformed spelling).

[2] This does not mean that she sometimes does not express unforseen opinions, as when she gives her judgment on Rossini. In the lesson of Thursday 29th October 1840 (see letter of 31st October) Chopin gets her to play the Concerto in F, all of it, i.e. including the 'tutti'. "'No, not like that—says Chopin—, you play the 'tutti' the same as the 'solo'; I want to hear the orchestra as well as possible'". To make her understand what he means, Chopin sits at the piano and plays the 'tutti'. Then he adds: "'No one knew this better than Rossini: when he accompanied a singer, you heard the orchestra, the whole orchestra.'" At this point Fr. Müller is astonished and expresses all his contempt for the Italian composer. Chopin, for his part, reveals by his reply all his intelligence, his composure, his great balance and his benevolence: "'Ah, here is a German judgment—he said laughing—, after all [Rossini] is in a difficult moment, it is true.' 'It is certainly not because of that, Monsieur; he had no other aim than to make an impression; he sacrificed science and art to please everybody, and then, since I have been in the world, I hear these things, these airs, etc., to the point thet they seem detestable to me.' 'Yes, I do. You see, Rossini as an opera composer, singing and melody I mean, is the greatest genius of our time, but a hundred people have dressed up in his clothes, imitated him and his genre has become flat and cheap. Certainly Rossini's sole aim was to make an impression, and that is often blamable, but in Otello, for example, you will find passages worthy of the greatest of masters, and William Tell! Who these days would write like that? No one, be convinced. On the other hand, I know that the Germans do not like Rossini at all. However, you must play this 'tutti' as well as he used to do'”. To which Fr. Müller adds no comment....

[3] E. Sławińska-Dahlig, Adolphe Gutmann - ulubiony uczeń Chopina [Adolphe Gutmann, Chopin's favourite pupil], Warszawa (NIFC) 2013.

[4] Wilhelm von Lenz in his attack on Gutmann, referring to Chopin's words, only writes: “'Er habe sich ihn erzogen,' sagte er ('He had trained him,' he said).” Let us add here that the Italian translation of the entire passage does not seem correct. Lenz writes: "Gutmann lobte Chopin als den Pianisten, der ihm seine Kompositionen am meisten zu Dank spiele! Das war stark! 'Er habe sich ihn erzogen,' sagte er. Das war stärker, er, einen Riesen!" The Italian version (Sellerio 2002, p. 99) is as follows: “Chopin lodava Gutmann come il pianista che interpretava meglio di tutti le sue composizioni. Lui stesso ne aveva curato l'educazione, diceva. Ma il gigante era lui, Chopin (Chopin praised Gutmann as the pianist who interpreted his compositions better than anyone else. He himself had taken care of his education, he said. But the giant was him, Chopin)!” The translator, as you can point out, omits both “Das war stark!” and “Das war stärker,” and makes “einen Riesen,” an accusative, agree with “er,” subject! W. von Lenz is being sarcastic: "(It was precisely) Gutmann (whom) Chopin praised as the pianist who played his compositions in the most pleasant way! This was too much! 'He had trained him,' he said. This was (even) more than too much: he (who had trained) a giant!". In the Italian translation, therefore, Lenz's fierce irony towards Chopin himself disappears. It should also be added that the English (Schirmer 1899, p. 70) and French (Flammarion 1995, p. 86) translations, although not incorrect, may be ambiguous, since in "he, a giant!" or in "lui, un géant!" the terms giant/géant, not being distinct by the accusative case as they are in German, lend themselves to being understood as an apposition of “he/lui”, as the Italian translator did!

[5] Antoine Marmontel devotes to his "colleague" Mathias a laudatory chapter in Virtuoses contemporains, Paris (Heugel) 1882, pp. 136÷149, to which must be added a sequel published in Histoire du piano, Paris (Heugel) 1885, pp. 377÷378. He reports that G. Mathias was born on October 14, 1826, and that he first studied with Keller, a Kalkbrenner's pupil, then "for several years he was Kalkbrenner's assiduous and docile pupil" (p. 137), until in 1838 he was introduced by his father—whose figure he exalts—to Chopin, who took care of the little prodigy's piano education for seven to eight years (p. 139). We shall see that some of these statements are not true. Cf. also J.-J Eigeldinger, Chopin vu par ses élèves, Paris (Fayard) 2006, pp. 221÷222, who has guessed that there is something fishy about the documentation regarding Mathias, as he ends his biographical sketch as follows: "It will be a case of maintaining reserve on the tone of his 'Memories' serialized in Le Monde musical [...], which are written in a relaxed style that betrays a strange self-satisfaction". Moreover, two quotations are enough to demonstrate the real value of Marmontel's critical intelligence, inversely proportional to the impressive, typically French, rhetoric that fills his prose with all sorts of sweetmeats: the first, at the end of Chopin's portrait in Les pianiste célèbres (Paris [Heugel] ¹⁰1888, p. 19), when he states that he does not want to establish “a comparison between Chopin and the eagles with powerful flight that the first strokes of their wings have taken to the highest peaks;” the second (ibid. p. 38), when he compares Chopin and Heller: “But—he writes—without diminishing (sans amoindrir) Chopin's glory, we think it is fair to say that these two great artists [...] represent two different natures, two essentially distinct temperaments.” Have you got it? Chopin was certainly no eagle and, without belittling Chopin, Heller was something else! We must acknowledge Mormontel's skill as a great confectioner who presents you with an inviting Sachertorte, inside which, however, there is no trace of apricot jam, but something else..., and, when you realise it—if you realise it—, you have already swallowed a morsel: too late to spit it out!

[6] Cf. E. Sławińska-Dahlig, op. cit. p. 47.

[7] According to Eigeldinger (p. 216) "Gutmann, more than any other, must have become intimate with his master, who—a rare occurrence—addressed him as 'tu' instead of 'vous'" (see, in confirmation thereof, Chopin's letter to Gutmann of April 1841). Here, however, going by the words reported by Fr. Müller, Chopin uses the form of courtesy: an evident respect for Gutmann in front of a stranger, as Fr. Müller was at that moment, because from the letter of 26th January (see below) Chopin will go on to the 'tu.'

[8] Hermann Cohen (1820-1871), German pianist.

[9] We could not find a more sensible translation of "und auch ich müsse dann Gutmann spielen."

[10] Cf. E. Sławińska-Dahlig, op. cit. p. 48.

[11] Cf. Giulio Piccini, Adolfo Gutmann. Ricordi biografici, Firenze (G. Polverini) 1881, p. 7. It is clear that everything Piccini wrote must have been reported to him by Gutmann himself, of whom he was a friend and who lived in Florence at the time. It is worth comparing the episode of the Scherzo performed before Moscheles. After his return to Paris in the late afternoon or evening of Friday, October 11th, on Monday, October 21st, Chopin was the guest of the banker Leo, where he met Moscheles, who longed to know him. After a few days, “I visited him [scil. Chopin] by appointment-writes Moscheles-. There was only the Countess O(breskova) of Petersburg [...] and some gentlemen. Chopin's excellent pupil Gutmann, played his manuscript Scherzo in C sharp minor; Chopin himself his manuscript the Sonata in B flat minor, with the Funeral March." (cf. Aus Moscheles' Leben, hg. von seiner Frau, II, Leipzig [Duncker & Humblot] 1873, p. 39÷40). And here, on the other hand, is what Gutmann told Piccini: "Chopin had only been back in Paris for two days. On the morning of the third day he sent to wake Gutmann in good time, telling him to come to him as soon as he could. Gutmann, frightened, believing it to be something serious, ran to Chopin's house. He found him sitting quietly on his bed, waiting for him. “Excuse me, dear Gutmann—said his master—, if I have disturbed you; I have received a note from Moscheles in which he tells me how pleased he was to hear of my return to Paris, and tells me that he will come to see me today at five o'clock to hear my latest compositions... I am always too weak to play my pieces in front of him. Take my place, dear Gutmann, will you; the Scherzo is more important to me than anything else. And Chopin handed his favourite pupil the Scherzo [...]. Gutmann hesitated. Until that day Chopin had always played his own compositions before the dreaded and terrible critic Moscheles: and that piece is fraught with so many difficulties!... But he sat at Chopin's piano, spent many hours there, and when Moscheles arrived, the young disciple played the Scherzo from memory. Chopin listened to him with an air of bliss, shook his head in approval, and when he had finished, he said to Gutmann, in the presence of Moscheles: 'You played better than I did, you delighted us, and to compensate you I dedicate the Scherzo to you.' And the Scherzo bears Gutmann's name on its forehead" (cf. Piccini, op.cit. p. 8÷9). Apart from the exaggerations that the author may have introduced on his own initiative, the details, starting with that of the "bed," certainly cannot have been invented. We shall see below that the Scherzo was not dedicated to Gutmann as a reward, as Eigeldinger also writes.

[12] Uta Goebl-Streicher translates: er spielt sich zu sehr auf, i.e. 'he gives himself airs', but se pâmer does not mean 'to give oneself airs'. Etymologically connected with our 'spasimare' it means, according to Robert, devenir, être en quelque sorte paralysé sous le coup d'une émotion, and by extension, as here, s'abbandoner à des très vifs transports, thus 'to yield to an emotion' 'to get excited'. The meaning of which is perfectly congruent with excessive speed: Gutmann did not control himself, he let himself be carried away by emotion.

[13] After the death of his father (March 1837), Gutmann must have come into possession of his portion of inheritance. In 1858 he bought at an auction sale a property in Le Vésinet, in the western suburbs of Paris, and he sold it in 1864 (cf. E. Sławińska-Dahlig, op. cit. p. 25 e n. 9). We shall see below that his income was estimated, towards the end of the 1840s, at between 25,000 and 30,000 francs.

[14] Note that this "guten Appetit!" demonstrates Fr. Müller's non-twisted spontaneity and, consequently, his trustworthiness: she is quite irritated and does not deny it.

[15] This is perhaps the first direct evidence that Chopin was fluent in German.

[16] Thus, we now know that the antigraph used by Breitkopf for Op. 25 was a copy prepared by Gutmann: a valuable piece of information for future editors of the Etudes (the subject would require many more comments, but not here).

[17] Properly Kunsthändler is the 'art dealer', the antiquarian. However, in Brothers Grimm's Wörterbuch it is specified that the word also means Kupferstichhändler 'one who deals in copper-plate engraving', i.e. engraver. Chopin's answer fully confirms this meaning.

[18] Another very important piece of information, which allows us to identify the measure: it is m. 25. In fact, in m. 25 there are two flats (marked by two small arrows) patently added by the German proof-reader while proofreading; which means that, before such arbitrary addition, the engraving was correct, as Chopin says. The only modern editor who does not add those accidentals in the main text is Paul Badura-Skoda (Mikuli includes them; Rudorff, 1899, puts them in brackets), who, however, believes that this addition is due to Chopin, because he considers it unlikely "that the very conscienceous (peinlich gewissenhaft) engraver of DA would have introduced such subtlety on his own initiative." If it was not the engraver, we have to involve a proof-reader. Ekier considers the version without the flats primitive and proposes it in the note as a variant! But if it is a primitive version, how can it be a variant!? If Ekier had been a philologist, he should have known that in philology there is a fundamental principle, that of lectio difficilior, which together with the meaning of the context should have guided him towards the right solution. Anyone who understands the music language should also understand that here the modulation on the tonic of D flat, not directly from the diminished seventh, but through the liberating medium of the dominant seventh, is premature, out of place: it is not yet the time. Since, however, the meaning of the context is not understood, everyone plays the modulation with A-flat. Now, thanks to what Chopin reveals to Fr. Müller, we can avoid useless discussions with those who do not know the music language. But if this is not enough, we are helped by the lost manuscript, from Maria Wodzińska's album, but reproduced by Binental in his Dokumente: there you can see a beautiful natural prefixed to the last A of the right hand! No pianist, including Badura-Skoda, plays the correct version!

[19] Again, the Austrian editor translates se pâmer as sich brüsten, which is synonymous with sich aufspielen (see above n. 12). 'To give oneself on airs' is a behaviour directed outwards, before other people, but this is not the meaning: Chopin means that Gutmann is delighted, he has become infatuated with his talent, he does not control the excitement that knowing he is talented gives him.

[20] Note the prompt retort revealing Chopin's acute intelligence.

[21] Although this bad mood has nothing to do with Gutmann, we believe it is useful to clarify the reasons for this state of mind, since it confirms what we have always maintained about the allegedly mad passion that united one of the most famous pairs of lovers. Fr. Müller had remarked that Chopin's state of health was the usual one, and in any case not such as to justify the postponement of the lesson; but that night she had dreamt—a phenomenon not infrequent in persons born after summer solstice—that Sand had greatly annoyed the musician; hence, "as I saw him leaning over the piano, covering his forehead and eyes with his hand, the dream came back to me so vividly that, although I never speak to him of such trifles, I said to him: 'I was telling my aunt this morning that I had dreamt that you were distressed by some contrariety, by some sorrow'.” (Note that Fr. Müller does not report having dreamed about Sand...) “He immediately raised his eyes and looked at me in complete amazement: 'It is true, that is exactly what it is: you dreamed the truth'.” In the following conversation, Chopin reveals the cause of his mood. There were rumours of Sand's interest at the time—and those who know even just a little Mrs Sand can realize what kind of interest it was—in a certain Russian prince, and Fr. Müller refers to him in her letter of March 21. Chopin says: “'I will confess to you what has bothered me. Nothing, but that's how I am: everything irritates me, everything agitates me and upsets me; and that is why I do not want to give you a lesson today, because while you would be playing, my thoughts would be elsewhere. Do you know what the cause is? Well, it is the sight of a person who looks so unpleasant to me and is so empty... no, it is incredible, and he was standing there.' Just the memory of it—says Fr. Müller—blurred his face again. And I thought: this is the stupid Russian.” So, lovers to distraction? It is all nonsense! Sand clung to Chopin for his fame, but as for the rest, she was busy.... And Fr. Müller understood this very well: in the same letter, in fact, he wrote that Sand "is nothing but a stupid and wicked coquette."

[22] Chopin, realizing that he had exposed himself a little too much, tried to draw in his horns: “'Often, when the heart swells, the mouth overflows and betrays what it would never have wanted to say'.” On the other hand, he knew that both Fr. Müller and her aunt Wilhelmina were the soul of discretion.

[23] There is no trace of this tour in the aforementioned biography.

[24] We have mentioned it in the Preface to our critical edition of the second book of Préludes, which is available in this site.

[25] Allusion to the stupid titles given by Wessel, the English publisher, to Chopin's compositions.

[26] Liszt had played this Trio in Vienna twice in 1838 and 1839 (cf. Uta Goebl-Streicher, op. cit. p. 373 n. 9).

[27] The editor's note also seems to express, perhaps unintentionally, the same conviction: “A. Gutmann was of very large build and had surprisingly large hands, for which the Scherzo No. 3 Op. 39 with its octave passages was specially made (zugeschnitten, properly 'cut to size').”, cf. Uta Goebl-Streicher, op. cit. p. 421 n. 13.

[28] Chopin evidently did not know geese!

[29] Schwabe, Swabian, is a derogatory qualification for 'coarse, loutish German'; it seems to be used mainly by Swiss people. We Italians also have a similarly derogatory term for 'German': crucco.

[30] There is a letter of Chopin to Gutmann dated Paris October 28, 1845, in which he transmits a large number of letters to his pupil. Gutmann's biographer deduces from this that “Gutmann thus acted as intermediary for the delivery of the eleven letters addressed to various recipients” (cf. E. Sławińska-Dahlig, op. cit. p. 112). In reality, they were letters of recommendation aimed at promoting the concert tour that Gutmann had proposed to undertake (as Eigeldinger has well understood, cf. Chopin, âme des salons parisiens, Paris [Fayard] 2013, p. 28). The most surprising note from this letter is that Chopin moved heaven and earth to obtain every possible recommendation for his pupil, for whom he had evidently set aside his impenetrable discretion!

[31] Jean-Claude Féray, Le premier registre infamant de la Préfecture de police Paris au XIXe siècle, suivi d'un Dictionnaire... et d'annexes, Paris (Quintes-feuilles) 2012.

[32] Cf. J.-Cl. Féray, op. cit. p. 85.

[33] Cf. Jean-Claude Féray, L'impossible conciliation ou la vie heroïque du Dr Claude-François Michéa, Paris (Quintes-feuilles) s.d. (ma 2015), pp. 52÷53.

[34] The year 1853 is most likely a clerical or reading error, because Gutmann was Sand's guest in 1855 for a few days, and in 1856 for about a month.

[35] Dans le midi de la France is equivalent to saying 'in Nohant, at Sand's house'. The first epistolary document linking G. Sand to Gutmann is a letter of May 12, 1847 which the novelist decided—who knows for what purpose!—to send to Gutmann (cf. CGS, édition de G. Lubin, VII, p. 698÷699). Since she did not know his address (if she is telling the truth), she enclosed the letter with the one addressed to Grzymała on the same day (cf. ibid. p. 701), begging the latter to deliver it to Gutmann not in Chopin's presence (ne le lui remets pas en présence de Chopin). In it, G. Sand tries, as usual, to give the holiest and purest of images of herself, but this is only the frame. One sentence deserves to be quoted: “Grzymała writes me such good words about you, about the tenderness with which you have all replaced me with him [scil. Chopin], and especially you, that I want to tell you that I know, and that my heart will take it seriously and forever.” (cf. ibid. p. 698). This sentence is enigmatic in the purest Sandian style: on the one hand she states between the lines that, to replace her, one person was not enough, on the other hand that, of all people, it is above all he, Gutmann, who has replaced her and adds that he knows it! Since the virago never writes anything by chance, we must wonder what the purpose of such a letter was. We know with what diabolical skill she succeeded in her intentions: see, for example, with what artifice she convinces Emmanuel Arago that Solange and Chopin were lovers (cf. op.cit. VIII, p. 49 n. 1: and there are twits who believe that). G. Lubin states that Gutmann “continued to correspond with G. Sand until at least 1872” (op. cit. VII, p. 806), but rather than correspond, they were in contact; the only letter (?) from Nohant, the second, although not found, is of the end of June 1855 (cf. op. cit. XIII, p. 215). When G. Sand was in Paris, it is very likely that they communicated through notes such as those recovered by Lubin (one dated December 12, 1855, op. cit. XXV p. 925, and the other of January 31, 1856, ibid. p. 928). But what connected these two figures? Well, a few passages in the Correspondance enable us to clarify the issue and appreciate the novelist's farsightedness. On January 10, 1856, G. Sand wrote to the actress Sylvanie Arnould-Plessy: "I think that tomorrow there will be too many of us to resist without suffocating in my hovel. How about [...] we come and breathe at your place? And will you allow me to introduce you to Lambert, Borie and perhaps Gutmann, whom I had arranged to meet at my place? He is a very capable musician and an excellent young man, one of my sons since he was a child.” On the 24th of the same month to Émile de Girardin he confirms Wednesday's meeting: "... I have taken the liberty of inviting Gutmann to dinner. He is one of my sons and will play the piano. He will send the instrument." These quotations are enough to understand that G. Sand used Gutmann as musical entertainment for her guests not only at her own dinners, but also when she went to her friends for dinner. This is perfectly consistent with the police report. So, the first reason for their relationship came out. But there is a second, less visible but clear reason. On June 24, 1855, G. Sand wrote to the stockbroker Mirès, an ambiguous figure like all successful stockbrokers (cf. op. cit. XIII, p. 211÷212 and 704), for advice; in her letter to Émile Aucante of May 11, 1856, though, she concluded that "if Mirès has left without thinking of me, there is no reason to expect an answer from him. Advise Maurice to consult Gutmann” (cf. op. cit. XIII, p. 613). But how does Gutmann come into it? The answer to this question can be found in the letter to her son Maurice of May 20, 1856: “I am counting on you now, since you are no longer counting on Mirès. [...] Entrust your affairs to Gutmann: he will gladly take care of them and tell him to come and see us afterwards.” This reveals the lesser-known side of Gutmann, but which justifies the high income mentioned in the police report: Gutmann knew how to manage his money. And Sand had long understood this! She would never have dreamed of advising her beloved Maurice to entrust his finances to someone whose ability she was not absolutely certain of. Gutmann probably also looked after the interests of Solange, with whom he arrived in Nohant on July 3, 1855 to celebrate G. Sand's birthday (July 5) and left together, including Maurice, on the 8th. So Gutmann did not spend the summer in Nohant in 1855, as his biographer writes (cf. E. Sławińska-Dahlig, op. cit. p. 25), and in 1856 he stayed there from June (on the 27th Sand confirms to Solange that "Gutmann is here") until the 28th July, before going to an unspecified spa resort (pour les eaux, cf. GSC XIV, p. 36 and note 2; during his stay he had complained about "acute rheumatism [rhumatisme aigu]"). In conclusion, G. Sand used to manipulate Gutmann for her private interests.

[36] Cf. "La Nazione" of October 28, 1882, p. 2, col. 6.

[37] There were actually two warships, “Duilio” and “Dandolo,” but the reporter only mentions the “Dandolo,” whose meaning in Italian is quite obvious, “giving it”. The correspondent's malice runs throughout the article. In all likelihood he had picked up a lot of gossip.