The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-09-11
CHoPIN,s "FUNEnAL MARCH,"
How 1t Was Composed--Ziem's Rec
elections.


Very few people know that Chopins
Funeral March" was at first perform
ed by-a skeleton. 1t is thanks to the
painter. Zeim. that we are now ac-
quainted with the fact, says one of our
Partisan contemporaries. On the first
day of ovember-Hallowe'en of last
year, while accompanying Ziem to his
studio in Rue Lepic, noticed that he
was drying some tears from his eyes,
just as he was crossing the threshold
Of his home. In the artists heart tolled
the knell of the funeral march, that
awful lamentation- of the immortal
Chopin. 1T is here" said Ziem, that
this march was composed.
1--WE were four at dinner, 80 Rue de
la Tour d Auvergne, at Paul Chevand-
Ter de Valdromes, son of the peer of
France. Besides the host, the guests
were Prince Edmond de Polignac,
Comte de Ludre, and myself. Paul was
painter of no little skill, and it was
in his studio that we spent the evening.
L aVailed myself of a moment, when
conversation was beginning to flag, to
steal behind a screen, to take hold of
skeleton-one like those frequently to
be found in an artists studio--and ]
feigned to be wrestling with this foe
of another world. Prince de Polignac
enjoyed immensely the oddity of my
notion. In turn he snatched the skel-
eton, made it execute all kinds of dis
tortions and ghastly postures; lastly
causing 1t to sit down in front of a
piano. Standing by it's side he guided
the fingers of the unexpected performer
and made them run on the keyboard.
I'VE had put out all the lights and
ceased all conversations so as to relish
fully this weird music, which seemed
to arise from some far distant grave.
We were there in deep silence, when
suddenly we heard quite distinctly
three loud knocks. Was it the advent
of spirits? We did not know what to
make of it, when a lamenting voice
was heard crying, God of my forefath-
ers, do not forsake mel We burst out
laughing, for we had recognized the
voice of Paul, who was trembling. The
joke had lasted too long: we lighted
the candles and Comte de Ludre ex-
planned to us about the three knocks.
1t was he who, lying on the lounge, had
struck the wainscoting with his feet.
The skeleton was replaced behind the
screen.
Some time after that Chopin came
here looking as George Sand has so
well depicted him, his imagination
haunted with legends of the misty re-
gions, besieged by unnamed phantoms.'
After frightful night spent strug-
Cling with spectres which had been
clinging to him, threatening to carry
him to the lower regions, he had come
to seek some rest with me. His re-
lating his Nightmares reminded me of
the evening spent at Paul Chevand-
-ier's. l told him about 1t; he shudder-
ed at my words and did not raise his
eye from the piano that l had bought
precisely for his use. Have you a
skeletons? was his inquiry. / had none,
but promised that he would find one
there that evening. l asked Paul
Chevandier de Valdrome and the paint
er Ricard to dinner, and during dessert
l acquainted Paul with the wish of
Chopin Paul sent his valet to get the
| skeleton and we rehearsed the scene
that had so much frightened our host
of Rue de la Tour d. Auvergne
What had been a mere joke then
was transformed now, through the in
spiration Of Chopin, into something
grand, awful. and painful. Pallid, with
immeasurably distended eyes, Chopin.
wrapped in a long shroud, was hugging
on his painting heart, the spectre which
had haunted him so often in his
dreams. From afar we cast on that
union of man and death light which
caused the fantastic shadows to culver.
Suddenly we were all moved to the very
marrow of our bones; in the deep si-
lence of the studio spread mournful
notes, broad dull, depressed, deep
music unheard until now-and slowly
the funeral march was developing into
lie, enchanting us in it's diabolical
ring. The notes beginning to waver,
we ran toward Chopin; under his
shroud he was on the verge of collasp-
| ing"