n is coming" were passing
from mouth to mouth, and caused much stir in the musical circles of
Leipzig. Shortly after this my informant saw Mendelssohn in the street
walking arm in arm with a young man, and he knew at once that the Polish
musician had arrived, for this young man could be no other than Chopin.
From the direction in which the two friends were going, he guessed
whither their steps were tending. He, therefore, ran as fast as his legs
would carry him to his master Wieck, to tell him that Chopin would be
with him in another moment. The visit had been expected, and a little
party was assembled, every one of which was anxious to see and hear
the distinguished artist. Besides Wieck, his wife, daughter, and
sister-in-law, there were present Robert Schumann and Wieck's pupils
Wenzel, Louis Rakemann, and Ulex. But the irascible pedagogue, who felt
offended because Chopin had not come first to him, who had made such
efforts for the propagation of his music, would not stay and welcome
his visitor, but withdrew sulkily into the inner apartments. Wieck had
scarcely left the room when Mendelssohn and Chopin entered. The former,
who had some engagement, said, "Here is Chopin!" and then left, rightly
thinking this laconic introduction sufficient. Thus the three most
distinguished composers of their time were at least for a moment brought
together in the narrow space of a room. [Footnote: This dictum, like
all superlatives and sweeping assertions, will no doubt raise objectors;
but, I think, it may be maintained, and easily maintained with the
saving clause "apart from the stage."] Chopin was in figure not unlike
Mendelssohn, but the former was more lightly built and more graceful in
his movements. He spoke German fluently, although with a foreign accent.
The primary object of Chopin's visit was to make the acquaintance of
Clara Wieck, who had already acquired a high reputation as a pianist.
She played to him among other things the then new and not yet published
Sonata in F sharp minor (Op. 11) by Schumann, which she had lately been
studying. The gentlemen dared not ask Chopin to play because of the
piano, the touch of which was heavy and which consequently would not
suit him. But the ladies were bolder, and did not cease entreating him
till he sat down and played his Nocturne in E flat (Op. 9, No. 2). After
the lapse of forty-two years Wenzel was still in raptures about the
wonderful, fairy-like lightness and delicacy of Cho