Chopin's letter

To the Same.

Dresden, 14 November 1830.

I can scarcely find a moment for a few words to give you news of me. I am just back from a Polish dinner: that is, where only Poles were present. I left them there and came back to write; the post goes at 7, and I should like to hear The Dumb Girl of Portici again today.

We didn't like leaving Wroclaw; a closer acquaintance with the people to whom Scholz gave me letters made the town very pleasant for us. My first call here was on Frâulein Pechwell. She played on Friday at the local Resource, and got me admitted. The same evening the Dumb Girl was played in the theatre; it was hard to choose, but I really had to attend the lady's evening, so I went there. Another important reason for going was that I was told I should hear there the best local woman singer : an Italian by birth, called Plazzesi. So I put on my best clothes and sent for a sedan-chair; got into this queer box and asked to be taken to Kreissig's house, where the evening was to be held. I laughed at myself on the way, being carried by these bearers in livery; I was greatly tempted to stamp out the bottom, but restrained myself. This vehicle took me right up the steps. I got out and sent in my name to Frâulein Pechwell; the master of the house came out with bows and scrapes and many compliments, and conducted me into the hall, where I found, at the two sides, eight enormous tables, at which sat a crowd of ladies.

adornments, consisting less of diamonds than of wires,1 flashed in my eyes. Joking apart, the number of ladies and wires was so great that one could have feared some revolt against men, which only baldness and spectacles could combat; there was a great deal of glass, and a good deal of bare skin.

The rattling of these wires, and also of tea-cups, was suddenly interrupted by music from the other end of the room. First they played the Overture from Fra Diavolo,2 then the Italian lady sang; not bad. I got into conversation with her, and also met her accompanist Sig. Rastrelli, the sub-director of the opera here, and Sig. Rubini, the brother of the famous singer whom I hope to meet in Milan. This polite Italian promised me a letter to his brother; it's all I need. He was kind enough to take me yesterday to the rehearsal of the " Vespers " composed by Morlacchi, the court Kapellmeister here. I took the opportunity to recall myself to his memory ; he at once put me to sit beside him and talked a lot with me.

The Vespers were sung today by the famous Neapolitan male sopranos Sassaroli and Tarquinio; Rolla, a well-known concertmaster here, to whom I had a card from Soliwa, played the violin obligato [sic]. I made acquaintance with him, and he promised me a letter to his father, the director of the Milan opera. But let us return to the evening.

Frâulein Pechwell played the piano, and I, after talking with one and another, went off to the Dumb Girl. I can't judge of it because I didn't hear it all. Only after this evening shall I be able to tell you anything positive.

Going to Klengel in the morning, I met him outside the house ; he recognized me at once, and was so friendly that he even pressed me to his heart. I respect him greatly. He invited me to come to him tomorrow morning, but asked first where I am staying. He tried to persuade me to appear in public, but about that I am deaf. I have no time to lose, and Dresden will give me neither fame nor money.

General Kniaziewicz, whom I saw at Pani Pruszak's, also spoke of a concert, but declared that it would not lead to much.

Yesterday I was at the Italian opera, but it was badly done; but for Rolli's solo and the singing of Frâulein Hahnel from the Vienna theatre, who made her début yesterday as Tancredi,1 there would have been nothing to hear. The King, surrounded by the whole court, was in the theatre, and also in church at the high Mass today. They sang a Mass by Baron Miltitz, one of the local nobles, under the direction of Morlacchi. I liked the voices of Sassaroli, Muschetti, Balwig and Zezi best. The composition itself is nothing much. Dotzauer and Kummer, famous local violoncellists, had several soli, which they played well; otherwise nothing special. Except my Klengel, before whom I shall doubtless have to distinguish myself tomorrow, there is nothing here worth noticing. I like to talk with him, because one can really learn something from him. Except the picture galleries, I have not looked again at anything in Dresden ; it is enough to see grilne Gewiolbe  once.

Chopin's letters;by Chopin, Frédéric, 1810-1849; Voynich, E. L. (Ethel Lillian), 1864-1960; Opienski, Henryk, 1870-1942.