New Orleans Republican., 1868-08-02
CHOPIN's NocTUENE.
From Iippincott's Marazins.l

| Ono Vi bno slIeSOS VI bnht CltyJ Oh NY way
to my lodgings, when my attention was
attracted by the sound of piano, evi-
IDENTIFY an Erard, and l involuntarily paused
| to listen.
| Some one with a masterly touch was
| idly preluding and modulating in a
dreamy, purposeless way; suddenly
the fitful cadences ceased, and then sound
ed out, clear and distinct, the first few notes
of that delicious nocturne in by Chopin
| almost the last one written by him. !
stood entranced. First, the running ar
peggio blOssoming into the suspended
chord, and then the theme with its longing,
its sad questioning, its patient resignation
to remorseless fate.
had often and often played this noe
turne-had once faithfully and earnestly
studied it in my bachelor quarters in
| Paris--but | now felt that had never COM
grehended its inner meaning; under the
| hands of the unseen musician 1t became to
| me revelation. Moved resistlessly by
the power, the feeling displayed in this
rendering OF the composition, forgot
| time, place, everything, and wept.
Suddenly WAS seized with an intense
| curiosity to see this wonderful artist.
had heard iu my ramblings any quantity of
what Mrs. Browning so aptly calls,
"Fine sleights of hand
An unimagined lingering, shutting off
The hearers soul through hurricanes ofnotes
To noisy Tophet."
This, however, was something immeasura-
bly, superior to trash of that character.
Hitherto | had scarcely thought to no.
| ti1e the particular dwelling from whence
the music came. proceeded to examine
the different houses near me with the pur-
pose of obtaining, If possible, a glimpse of
the performer. Directly before me stood
one OF those quaint, curious structures pc
cullar TO old Swiss towns, and from its in
terror evidently came the full, clear notes
of the Erard.
/ hurried across the narrow street,
| placed myself near the open window, and
managed to obtain position which would
enable me to command view of the inte.
rior without danger of being seen by the
inmates At grand piano, which stood
at the farther extremity Of meanly fur
nished apartment, sat young girl whose
long, flowing hair was Just touched with
gold by the last rays of the setting sun.
There were no other persons in the room,
and she had evidently yielded to the in
| spiration of the hour and was playing "twi.
light music,n
In the mean time, the young girl, I'M
conscious that any attentive listener was
near, had not ceased to play under her
| deft fingers there breathed out that de-
liciOus prelude in Fis moll, those three
| heavenly Gondellieder by Mendelssohn,
| Sehumanns mystical "Warum," and
| finally that exquisite Nocturne in E minor
written by Chopin when he was vet a
/ mere boy. 1t had now grown quite dark
and the outlines of the artists head were
scarcely distinguishable in the gloom which
had closed in upon her.
There was a pause, hush, and then
! just as the moon rose above the tops of the
houses, softly, quietly, yet distinctly, rip.
pied along the opening bars Of the Moon
light Sonata" with its wealth of sadness
and despair. The wonderful girl played
with the most perfect firmness yet delicacy
of touch, and every note of the wave.
like accompaniment was distinct, though
yelled, while the theme, full and clear, rose
above it in marvellous beauty.
How long my enchantment might have
lasted, | do not know, for after the con-
clusion of the first movement the music
ceased, and although | waited for some
tine, the girl artist did net play again.
After carefully noting the house and its
surroundings, l reluctantly went to my
| rooms in another part of the city.
The next evening, and for many even
ings, was at my post, and was never dis
appointed in hearing the girl musician.
Sometimes the music was fiery, impassioned,
with wild rush of tempestuouS emotions :
sometimes it was gloomy and despairing
| sometimes sad and tender yet always the
last thing was the dreamy Nocturne in B
which had heard on the first evening.
During the summer months events had
taken place in England which rendered it
necessary that should pay a hurried visit
to that country. l did so, but remained in
Great Britain only twenty days, and hay
ing transacted the business which had
called me from Switzerland, made all my
arrangements for returning to Berne and
my idle artist life there.
The evening before my departure for
the continent, l had retired al an early
hour, and had suffered much from an unac-
countable restlessness and a strange de-
preston of spirits which conspired to
drive sleep from my weary eyes. I had at
last, hewever, fallen into a heavy, lethar-
| gic slumber, when suddenly was, as it
seemed, wide awake and listening intentIy.
| Above, and around about me l heard that
enchanting Nocturne in B (; was held in a
sort of trance. Twice did the ethereal,
harp-like harmony float and vibrate
through my apartment, and then, with that
| long, climbing arpeggio, with which the
nocturne opens, the music melted away
'into thin air."
Gloomy forebodings and presentiments
| filled my soul. | felt, / knew not why.
that some terrible calamity had befallen
the girl-artist. The next morning l was
on my way to Switzerland.
On my arrival at Berne made immedi-
ate inquiry, and learned that on the very
| night when I heard the weird, mysterious
music, she had fallen into the Aar, and had
been swept away in its rapid current.
After playing as usual at twilight, she had
gone out for walk upon the banks of the
river, had missed her footing, fallen into
the rushing current and drowned before
any assistance could reach her. Her body
was recovered on the following day, and
buried in the rural cemetery adjoining the
town. All these facts learned from gar
rulous old cobbler, who occupied the
house next to that in which poor Constance
had lived with her aged parents.
l left Berne the next day, and have never
revisited that city; and, although many
years have elapsed since the sad event
which have related, never play that
Nocturne in B without thinking Of poor
Constance and those summer evenings in
the old Swiss town by the rushing river
Aar.
Just at this moment we were nearing the
shore, and the voice of warning from the
sable steward in his sing-song tOnes-"Pas-
sengers for Catskill" admonished Us to