Chopin Polonaise & the 'Virtuoso'

The definition of the term 'virtuoso' has not always been thought of as we do today. The meaning has changed from one of rather derogatory terms – the 14^th century virtuoso singers improvised so much of what they performed that they were thought to have been possessed: “a bevy of singers who so embellished and ornamented the Church melodies of the time that, in 1322, they called down upon themselves the censure of the Pope.” - through several different meanings before arriving at the modern interpretation of an overrated concept. In 16^th/17^th century Italy, the word was applied to anyone highly distinguished in their field, be it intellectual or artistic. This included engineers and artillerists, as the word first became commonly used in Italy to describe the men who worked on the development of gunpowder.

The word is derived from the Latin word 'virtus' – a word describing desirable assets for a man – courage, excellence and worth. It wasn't until the 17/18th century that the word began to be applied more frequently to instrumentalists, especially those who pursued a solo career. Today the word is almost exclusively used to describe musicians.

My own definition of the word, is something like this: 'a player who has superb technical ability but lacks in musical substance, therefore using their gift instead to dazzle the audience.' I think that since the general technical level has risen so high these days in comparison to previous centuries, that it is unlikely that there will be another phenomenon, such as Boccherini, Paganini or Chopin who really revolutionised instrumental techniques. I think therefore the meaning of the word has lost it's weight. I asked some colleagues (all musicians) what they thought when they heard this word:

'I personally think it's a word which is bandied around too much – it has become synonymous with technical assuredness, but not necessarily musicality.'

'For me a virtuoso is somebody who is technically skilled, fast-playing and likes to 'impress' the audience but doesn't have much to say on stage. However, I find that the word 'virtuosic' is different from 'virtuoso', because it's not a noun and therefore doesn't relate to the image of the musician but just to a skill he has.'

'Someone who owns their own instrument and is prepared to play for deaf people in exchange for food and sunshine.'

'Virtually so-so.'

'Funny, these days if someone is called a virtuoso, I take it as a marketing ploy to get the masses to think someone is amazing... But for 90% of musicians hailed as virtuosi, I know ten musicians better than each one called that term! So it has no meaning to me as a professional musician anymore, except for marketing purposes.'

It's clear pretty from these responses that 'virtuoso' is now a negative term. According to my own definition, I've never had any interest in playing 'virtuosically'. I have always been more interested in producing a musical performance with a good sound, rather than playing spicatto, harmonics and fast scales. That is, until I saw the notice go up for a 'virtuoso cello competition' at RAM. I'd never wanted to use my instrument to compete – an idealist notion in this industry, perhaps - but I was rather interested to see that the rules of entry were: 'any virtuoso piece for cello which is between 8 and 12 minutes in length'. Confused, I wondered just how many virtuoso pieces are written for cello that comply with this rule. The only single piece I could think of is Martinu's Variations on a Theme by Rossini, which...annoy me. Paganini's Variations on One String also came to mind, but that isn't even written for cello.

After some weeks of musing, I decided not to bother entering on the basis of my long standing belief that playing an instrument merely to impress (in other words, just to prove virtuosity) is bad! After a picnic on Hampstead Heath with my cellist friend, also winner of the competition last year, I shared my thoughts. She said, 'Why don't you just play Chopin's Polonaise?' This piece had slipped my mind entirely and I felt encouraged by her to take a more competitive stance and join in, enhanced all the more by the fact that I respect her as a musician. Here's what she said when I asked for her definition of a virtuoso: (preceded by a sarcastic snort) 'amazing technique but not very musical!' Then she asked me not to write that and said: 'the IDEAL virtuoso has flawless and unusual technical ability, but always uses it to serve the music'. As you can see from this and the responses above, I have confirmed my own opinion that the term 'virtuoso' no longer simply means somebody who is 'skillful and learned'.

Anyway, I persuaded myself that if I could find out enough about the piece to create an excuse for playing it, then it would be morally okay to try and show off a bit. The competition is not for another few weeks, but here is what I managed to discover about the background and influences on these nine minutes of music.

Chopin didn't write for any other instrument than piano, apart from his works for cello/ piano duo and the trio, though I believe this is renowned for having a 'first position only' violin part. I had only heard the Sonata performed twice, by Gary Hoffman and Gregor Horsch, and whilst maintaining for years the notion that I hated the piece, these interpretations are two of the most enjoyable and moving performances of anything I have ever heard in my life. They are of course very gifted performers, but these interpretations were truly beautiful. In my experience, one constantly hears from cellists about the Sonata that 'all the good bits are in the piano part' and 'the cello doesn't have enough to do'. Or perhaps it is the numerous versions of the slow movement I have heard whilst teaching on amateur courses that put me off. Or the fact that people too frequently use it as an encore. (I never understood why people use movements of a sonata or suite for an encore. The movements are surely much more beautiful in the context of their neighbouring movements, especially in the case of this particular movement. This could possibly be the only time I think it's appropriate to use a 'virtuoso' piece – the kind where the audience leaps up and applauds immediately after the final chord. If you require that kind of response...) A culmination of all those factors I expect.

Chopin's youngest sister Emily was often ill – she eventually died from a chest infection at the age of 14. When Chopin was 17, his mother decided to take Emily to Bad Reinerz (a popular spa town in Silesia known for it's 'healing stream') during the holidays of 1826. Chopin's parents decided that he should go as well to give him a break from his studies and already hectic performing schedule. Whilst in the town, the young Frederic put on a charity concert for two orphans in order to raise money for their upbringing. The concert was a success and Chopin caught the eye of Prince Anton Radziwill, who had been visiting his summer house in a nearby town. Radziwill was a composer, singer and also a keen amateur cellist, performing regularly in his own parlour concerts.

Radziwill visited Chopin at his parent's home whilst visiting Warsaw and invited the young pianist to his residence in Posen. This was the beginning of a long-standing relationship of support and friendship. However, not an entirely innocent relationship it would seem, at least on Chopin's part. The Prince and his wife had two daughters and Chopin took a liking to Princess Wanda, whom he was supposed to be giving piano lessons to. He wrote a Polonaise for Radziwill and Wanda to play together. He wrote to his friend Titus Woyciechowski: 'She is a beautiful girl of seventeen..and it was charming to direct her delicate fingers..she has real musical feeling...'

Upon first reading of the Polonaise, one cannot fail to notice that it's not very difficult to play. After hearing Chopin's piano works, this comes as quite a surprise – one doesn't expect such a virtuosic player to have a written something like this. The hardest thing is probably the double stops, though even those are not particularly challenging. I think that the fact he wrote it in order for Wanda to play with her father, of whom he was very fond, would have led Chopin to write something which would show both players in the best light. What good would have come from embarrassing or testing the father's skills? And to show Wanda off would prove his worth as a teacher. He hailed the piece 'nothing but glitter, for the drawing-room, for the ladies'. It was intended for house concerts and social gatherings.

Now back to the subject of my virtuoso competition. The version most commonly played today, and the version my friend meant me to play, is a transcription by Emanuel Feuermann (picture left). I bought the edition published by International Music Company, edited by Leonard Rose and as most other students (in ignorance) believed the version was by him. I of course discovered that the transcription was not by made by Rose and although it's listed in IMC's catalogue as Feuermann/Rose, the publishers for some reason didn't print Feuermann's name. I tracked down some of Rose's students to ask them. Firstly James Kreger, who wins the title of 'Amy's Favourite Chopin Polonaise YouTube video' who I wrote to for information. He hasn't answered, yet. Then I wrote to Mats Lidström to ask if knew anything – he could only say that he knows Feuermann's granddaughter and wife, who both said his family were very upset when they only mentioned Rose, (who Mats reckoned only did some of the fingerings and articulations) but didn't know the actual reason. Then I wrote to my teacher Valter Despalj who also didn't know very much except that IMC made an error. He didn't think that Rose contributed anything, just submitted the manuscript for publication as he liked it so much. Finally, I wrote to International Music Company to ask them, but they also failed to respond. Annette Morreau writes in the book 'Emanuel Feuermann', “...Rose, although credited as the editor, used much of Feuermann's arrangement. Eva Feuermann (his wife) had Feuermann's arrangement...and Greenhouse's student showed it to Rose (who) started to play it. Whether there was any threat of legal action is unclear, but the publisher did change the inscription on the 1960 printing.” Unfortunately this doesn't seem to be the case on the version which is available today (the one I have) which doesn't mention Feuermann at all. Quite a curious situation.

It's pretty obvious why Feuermann made the transcription (to give the cellist a more impressive role) and it's easy to see what he's done. Nothing genius, he just stole a few bits of the piano part and moved them over to the cello. No problem for him, being known to have one the best left hands in cello-playing history. Comparing his recording to that of IMC's edition (the 'Rose' one) is quite interesting. I thought originally that it would be fair to assume, as it was his own version, that he might have improvised some of the rhythms and ornaments slightly. For example, in bar 4, he plays a dotted quaver followed by a semiquaver (printed as 2 straight quavers) and on the last beat of bar 7, he plays 2 quavers, rather than the printed dotted quaver and semiquaver. But it turns out however, that these are actual Chopin's (or Franchomme's) original writings. There are more original Chopin ideas (that Feuermann plays on his recording) which have been left out of the IMC edition – in the 4^th bar of A, the turn has been left out, the octave jump in the 5^th bar of B has been left out, the open G string pedal in the 3^rd bar of D for 5 bars has been left out (I love this G as it adds a folky feel all of sudden – Chopin often does this in his works, being brought up in a town which was famous for it's love of music of any kind, he would have been exposed to many folk songs. It also reminds me of a similar passage in the Gigue of the C major Solo Suite by Bach.), the octave jump in the bar before F and 2 bars before M have both been left out and the chromatic semiquavers in the 4^thbar of M are missing. This strikes me as a possible lazy-copier at IMC, as surely these turns and jumps make it more interesting and there's no reason to leave these Chopin-esque nuances out. The IMC Edition also misses out around 2 pages of Chopin's version, making a much shorter coda. Fournier play the original length, though of course stealing parts of the piano part to make an extremely virtuoso ending. I cannot imagine why this was done, unless Rose thought it was too difficult (very unlikely!) or the editors thought it was too long. Fournier does however miss out 8 bars H – perhaps to avoid yet another repetition?! Aside from moving some of figurations from the piano part to the cello part, Fournier has been much more true to the original Chopin/Franchomme version than IMC and Rose have. How these differences occurred will remain a mystery unless IMC ever answer my email. I would imagine they were down to laziness in copying. As with many editions, I think this is such a shame. On comparing Bärenreiter's edition of the Bach Solo Suites, which most cellist are quite happy to read as the 'blank' edition, to Anna Magdalena's manuscript, I was shocked to see just how much that appeared in Bärenreiter was simply not in the manuscripts! It just takes a little research to see just how much of these so-called authentic editions are just another person's interpretation on a piece. If you ask me, the only way is to look at the editions and recordings and decide for yourself.

During his studies in Vienna, the young Chopin met many of the finest musicians in the city. One of these was Josef Merk (right), principal cellist in the Vienna Court Opera and later in the orchestra of the Viennese Court Chapel. Chopin wrote the following in a letter to his family in May 1831: 'On Thursday there was a soirée at Fuch's, when Limmer, one of the best artists here, introduced some of his own compositions for four violoncellos. Merk, as usual, made them more beautiful than they really were by his playing, which is so full of soul. We stayed there until 12 o'clock, for Merk enjoyed playing his Variations with me. He told me so himself, and it is always a great pleasure for me to play with him. I think we suit each other very well. He is the only violoncellist I really respect.' Chopin added the Introduction for Merk to perform with him (the piece was included in Chopin's concert tour in 1830) and dedicated the final Introduction and Polonaise Brilliante to Merk, first published in Vienna in 1831 by Mechetti as opus 3, again in Paris in 1835 by Richault, and again in 1837 by Schlesinger. These later editions were assisted by one of Chopin's closest friends (later to carry his coffin to the grave), the great cellist Franchomme. His name is mentioned as 'arranger'.

Over time, versions have been made (not necessarily published) by Fournier, Grützmacher, Gendron (a bit ridiculous – a possible attempt to out-do Fournier's version?!), Shafran, Kreger and probably many more cellists in an attempt to make this little piece into more of a show stopper. Let's note that Rostropovich, Truls Mørk and (after the competition) I prefer to stick to Chopin's original.