Les trois mazurkas en la bémol, en si majeur et en la mineur sont dignes de leurs sœurs aînées. M. Chopin excelle dans ce genre national, qu'il s'est approprié en quelque sorte. Quoique plusieurs l'aient imité, aucun n'est parvenu encore à l'y surpasser. C'est un abandon charmant, une grâce parfaite, une désinvolture mélodique qui n'est qu'à lui. Cette espèce de composition est généralement assez courte ; la pensée, pour produire de l'effet, doit y être claire, incisive, frappante dans ses petites dimensions. M. Chopin a déjà écrit bien des mazurkas ; il y en a peu qui ne soient remarquables ; celles qu'il a chantées au dernier concert ne dérogent pas.

Les trois Études en la bémol, en fa mineur et en ut mineur, extraites de son second livre ont impressionné vivement l'auditoire. On n'en a guère fait de plus fortes, de mieux nouées, de plus attachantes. L'intérêt se soutient d'un bout à l'autre, soit à l'aide du dessin mélodique toujours original, soit au moyen des ressources harmoniques dont l'auteur fait un excellent usage. Le Prélude en ré bémol est encore une heureuse inspiration, plus heureuse peut-être que l'Impromptu en sol, du moins autant qu'il est permis d'en juger après une seule audition rapide. Ce morceau nous a semblé au premier aperçu moins neuf, moins ordonné, moins net enfin que tout ce qui sort de la plume de M. Chopin. Cependant nous n'émettons notre opinion qu'avec doute ; l'effet est quelquefois entravé par des circonstances si étrangères à l'œuvre et à l'artiste, qu'un jugement de cette nature ne se prononce jamais qu'en faisant ses réserves. Ce que nous pouvons seulement dire avec certitude, c'est que l'Impromptu n'a pas offert un intérêt égal à celui des quatre nocturnes que M. Chopin a exécutés ; on y a distingué celui en ré bémol d'une ravissante fraîcheur. Le quatorzième avec /^{[p. 83]} ses triolets opposés par la main gauche aux simples croches de la main droite, avec le trois temps original qui figure au milieu, a fait un plaisir extrême. Mais c'est surtout à la troisième ballade qu'on a rendu les armes. A notre sens, c'est une des compositions les plus achevées de M. Chopin. Sa flexible imagination s'y est répandue avec une magnificence peu commune. Il règne dans l'heureux enchaînement de ces périodes aussi harmonieuses que chantantes une animation chaleureuse, une rare vitalité. C'est de la poésie traduite, mais supérieurement traduite par des sons.

Si nous n'avions à redouter les langueurs d'une analyse toujours fastidieuse, lorsqu'elle se fait trop technique, nous voudrions effeuiller devant vous cette création nuancée des plus charmantes couleurs. Mais de longues pages sont toujours insipides pour qui n'a pas entendu, et encore plus pour qui a joui de l'œuvre même. Finissons-en donc avec M. Chopin, dont la réputation est déjà assez vaste pour ne pas gagner beaucoup à la justice que nous lui rendons. D'ailleurs nous avons encore des éloges à distribuer au talent si pur, si fini de M. Franchomme, ainsi qu'à la voix pénétrante de madame Viardot-Garcia. Comme la Didon de Piccini, cette jeune cantatrice peut dire : Ah ! que je fus bien inspirée ! Et nous ne la démentirons pas ; car elle a chanté avec une âme et une beauté de moyens extraordinaires une composition aussi connue que jolie, la Felice Donzella de Dessauer, puis deux fragments du vieux, mais sublime Haëndel, enfin le Chêne et le Roseau qui a été redemandé. Décidément madame Viardot veut nous rendre sa noble sœur ; elle aussi composait de charmantes choses. Que madame Viardot marche donc dans la même voie où elle est entrée avec succès ; mais que les délassements du compositeur ne lui fassent pas oublier sa véritable vocation.

If music is really an architecture of sounds, as a famous lady ingeniously said, one must agree that Mr Chopin, the pianist-composer, is an elegant architect indeed. Actually, you know which original forms his graceful imagination can take on. By going through with an interest more and more lively these so curiously, so delicately wrought little masterpieces, we come in spite of ourselves to dream about Alhambra, Generalife, and all those delicious caprices of the Arabic genius realized in the monuments of Grenada, the Marvellous. Our mind takes pleasure in the spectacle of this tasteful opulence. The order is always so well associated with richness! And here is above all the distinctive character of Mr Chopin's creations. His fertile imagination knows how to get by in the boldest swerves; it never loses a certain thread which bounds together, with an invaluable skill, the various portions of its work.

Mr Chopin's style is, moreover, eminently aristocratic and exhales like a perfume of distinction; it is something exquisite and—if I may be allowed to use a bit worn word—fashionable. So, there is no triteness in the general character; no commonplaces in details. The opposite defect would may be perhaps the one that a rigorous criticism could raise. Too much refinement and meticulousness is not sometimes free from pretentiousness and coldness. Music looks like a beautiful person whom we doubtless love meeting divinely adorned, but whom we would not be irritated to surprise from time to time undressed.

Anyhow, far be it from us to make a bad quarrel with Mr Chopin. Actually, he, too, shows a lot of charming naturalness when he wants it, that is to say, when he does not abuse his surprising ease to find new forms of ornamentation, which sometimes turn out a little mannered. And then do we not know that the imperfections always arise from the exaggeration of qualities? After all, these few stains disappear in the shadow, when contemplating a talent by his bright side. Mr Chopin's melodic genius has a character so expressive, so tender, so distinguished, and his harmonic style is so richly endowed that the first impression, always irresistible, nonplusses critics, who—masked and at full tilt—were just ready for providing a career.

But, look at what success Mr Chopin earns on the rare appearances he makes in public, and think about all the meaning of the eagerness by which people press to find ways of hearing him; artists and amateurs crowd round him. Ah! It is because there is in Chopin more than only one reason of admiration. In fact, it is not only the composer that they come to applaud; it is also the virtuoso, the fascinating pianist who can get his fingers to speak a prestigious language, and pours out all his ardent soul in a really complete execution. In his exceptional playing there is a personality whose secret nobody can worm out; it is almost as if the keyboard is transformed and, when it obeys the feverish impetus of such a gentle and passionate genius, becomes a new instrument. Liszt and Thalberg can rouse, as we know, violent transports; Chopin can also do the same, but of a less energetic, less noisy nature, precisely because he makes vibrate in our heart more intimate notes, more sensitive emotions. The former pianists raise an exaltation which compels the audience to vent its enthusiasm loudly and restlessly. The latter touches perhaps deeper regions. The feelings Chopin excites have something more concentrated, more veiled, less expansive; but they are not less delightful at all. Ask for it all those who attended last Monday's evening at Mr Pleyel's rooms.

As a performer, Mr Chopin was what we hardly need to comment, and what a speech is always powerless to express. He was well liked by the whole select audience. We shall not add anything to the testimonies of high admiration and praise that everybody heaped upon him, and to which we happily contributed our part. Just a few words about the value of compositions which the artist so well performed.

Three Mazurkas—in A flat, in B major and in A minor—are fit of their elder sisters. Mr Chopin is outstanding at this national genre he appropriated in a way. Although many tried to imitate him, nobody has yet succeeded in surpassing him. A charming abandon, a perfect grace, a melodic ease are there, which belong only to him. Compositions of this kind are generally quite short; the thinking, in order to produce some effect, has to be clear, incisive, striking in those small dimensions. Mr Chopin has already written many mazurkas, few of which are less remarkable; the ones he played at the last concert were not unsatisfactory.

Three Etudes—in A flat, in F minor and in C minor, extracted from his second book—deeply impressed the audience. No one made something stronger, better compacted, more charming than those pieces. They keep the interest from beginning to end alive, either by means of the melodic line always original, or by means of the harmonic resources the author can use in an excellent way. The Prelude in D flat is another happy inspiration, happier maybe than the Impromptu in G, at least as much as it is allowed to judge after a single fleeting audition. Our first impression of this piece is that it seemed not so new, not so orderly, not so clear, at last, compared with all Mr Chopin writes. However, we express our opinion only with the benefit of the doubt; the effect is sometimes hindered by circumstances so foreign to the work and the artist, that a judgment of this nature may never be pronounced without reservations. What we can only say with certainty is that the Impromptu did not offer an interest comparable to that of four Nocturnes Mr Chopin executed; the one in D flat is lovely by freshness. The fourteenth [Op. 48 No. 2], with its triplets opposed by the left hand to the simple quavers of the right one, with the odd three-four time of the middle section, was an extreme pleasure. But it is in particular with/to the third ballad that we surrendered. To our mind, it is one of the most perfect compositions of Mr Chopin. His flexible imagination spread all over the piece with uncommon magnificence. The happy linking of its both harmonious and singing periods is ruled by a warm animation, a rare vitality. This is poetry translated, but superiorly translated, by sounds.

If we did not dread the sluggishness of an always boring analysis, when it becomes too technical, we would like to strip in front of you this creation diversified by the most charming colours. But, if you did not listen to the work, many pages are always insipid, and, if you did, they are even more vacuous. Therefore, let us finish with Mr Chopin, whose reputation is already vast enough not to gain a lot by our judgment. Moreover, we still have to bestow some praise on Mr Franchomme's talent, so pure and polished, as well as on Madame Viardot-Garcia's penetrating voice. Like Piccinni's Dido, this young opera singer can say: Ah! How I was inspired! And we shall not contradict her. As a matter of fact, she sang with feeling and extraordinarily beautiful vocality a composition as known as attractive, i.e. La Felice Donzella by Dessauer; then two pieces of the old but still sublime Handel; finally, Le Chêne et le Roseau, which had to be encored. Madame Viardot definitely wants to recall her noble sister to us; the latter too composed charming things. So, Madame Viardot may go the same road, which successfully she turned into; but composer's recreation should not make her forget her real calling.