Work Text:
REPORT
TO
HIS MAJESTY’S PRINCIPAL MINISTER OF JUSTICE,
FROM THE
DEPARTMENT FOR PUBLIC ORDER,
ON AN INQUIRY INTO THE
CONDITION OF ANARCHY AND UNREST
AMONG THE
ARTISTIC AND INTELLECTUAL POPULATION OF THE KINGDOM OF FRANCE;
Presented to both Chambers of Parliament, by Command of His Majesty, March, 1834.
PARIS:
PRINTED BY THE IMPRIMERIE IMPÉRIALE,
RUE VIEILLE-DU-TEMPLE,
FOR HIS MAJESTY’S STATIONERY OFFICE.
1834.
TO
MONSIEUR FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
HIS MAJESTY’S PRINCIPAL MINISTER OF JUSTICE.
Department for Public Order, Maison Charente,
5th March, 1834.
Section 1
Inquiry into the relationship between the Polish composer, Monsieur Frédéric Chopin, and the Hungarian composer, Monsieur Franz Liszt.
Following the events of July 1830, the Department for Public Order has been tasked with identifying potential revolutionary threats, whether that be organisations, districts of civil unrest, or individuals. For the four years that have passed since the July Revolution, we have observed many individuals, particularly those involved in the arts, including M. Liszt and M. Chopin.
Intellectuals have the ability to influence their audience through their work and their opinions. They hold the attention of the educated French, among whom they can stir a wave of emotion with their art. This results in people with no political teaching having the power to influence politics monumentally.
Furthermore, artists may gather in the same place— concert halls, salons, dinners— and share opinions freely among each other. Thus, through a collective effort, they can spread their views (which tend to be of independence, republicanism or socialism) and alter the political landscape.
Such influential figures as M. Liszt and M. Chopin have the potential to incite a revolution, particularly among the bourgeoisie. Adding to the individual threat posed by MM. Liszt and Chopin is the strong bond shared between them. This department has endeavoured to inquire into this relationship and we have noted our findings as such:
- M. Liszt’s Background
- M. Chopin’s Background
- How the Two Composers Met
- The Nature of M. Liszt and M. Chopin’s Relationship
- Testimony of Victor Hugo
- Police Interview With M. Liszt
- Police Interview With M. Chopin
- Conclusion
In this way, we can conclude whether there is any threat posed by either M. Liszt or M. Chopin, and whether an intervention in their relationship could reduce said threat.
M. Liszt’s Background
As a child, M. Liszt spent much of his time in aristocratic circles (despite not being of aristocratic blood himself). His father, Monsieur Adam Liszt, worked in the service of the Hungarian Prince Nikolaus II Esterházy where he played cello in the court orchestra led by Johann Hummel.
In M. Liszt’s infancy, it became evident that he was a child prodigy. He played for audiences throughout the Austrian Empire and was welcomed by the aristocratic circles of his country. It was there that he flourished as an up-coming musician.
However, it is considered by some, in particular the Paris press, that M. Liszt had a strained relationship with his father and that Adam Liszt cared more for the virtuoso than for his son. Adam Liszt desired the approval of the aristocracy and thus his son’s childhood fell by the wayside.
If this hypothesis is true, it is not a stretch to say that M. Liszt might feel bitterly towards the aristocracy, in some manner of speaking, for taking away his adolescent years. Following his father’s death in 1827, M. Liszt and his mother moved to Paris, where M. Liszt earnt money by giving piano lessons. One of his pupils was Caroline de Saint-Cricq, the daughter of Charles X's minister of commerce, Pierre de Saint-Cricq, with whom M. Liszt fell in love.
Unfortunately, M. Liszt was forbidden from continuing the affair by her father, on the basis that he was not of a high enough standing. This too, could be a reason for M. Liszt to reject the current structuring of society and turn towards revolutionary ideals.
After this denial, M. Liszt fell into a deep melancholy. He became so ill that many thought he wouldn’t survive, and he lived an isolated existence where he filled his time solely with reading. According to his friend, M. Victor Hugo, he focused much of his reading on the subject of politics and philosophy. Today, M. Hugo recounts that (as will later be shown in his testimony), M. Liszt likes to consider himself a part-time philosopher, as well as a composer and pianist.
It was during this prolonged illness, that the July Revolution took place. M. Liszt himself has described this revolution as a “reawakening” for him. It filled him with renewed vitality and he stepped back into the music world, firstly by befriending M. Hector Berlioz, the French composer.
Since then, M. Liszt has delved fully into the Parisian music scene and is now seen regularly at the popular salons. The general political leaning of these artists is towards political reform and the inclusion of the middling classes. M. Liszt often discusses political matters and is openly republican to his artist friends. He posits himself as a partisan of progress, refusing to be more specific, perhaps due to the fact that, like the whole of Paris, he is wary of governmental investigations such as this one.
To conclude, it is evident that life has driven M. Liszt towards more liberal views, particularly in regards to the idea of a “people” and their “nation”, given that his own native land, Hungary, is under the administration of the Austrian Empire. Whether these views can be called revolutionary is another matter as his background alone tells us little about any subversive actions with which he might be involved. This necessity for more information was the reasoning behind our later interview with him, the details of which can be found further into this report.
M. Chopin’s Background
In a similar vein to M. Liszt, M. Chopin spent much of his childhood among the aristocracy. However, it must be acknowledged that his ties to the aristocracy are far greater than M. Liszt’s own, and that M. Chopin himself could be considered minor aristocracy. Through his mother, he is related to the Skarbeks, a noble Polish family. His father, though French by birth, rejected all notions of France and the French language in his household, resulting in M. Chopin largely considering himself Polish, with little desire to interfere with the French political system.
He was educated at the renowned Warsaw Lyceum, since closed down by Russian authorities, among many respectable members of the upper-middle class and lower-upper class.
From the age of seven, M. Chopin was a playmate of Pavel Alexandrov, the nephew of Tsar Nicholas I of Russia. He played piano before both the Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovich of Russia and Tsar Alexander I of Russia.
After completing his studies at the Warsaw Conservatory, M. Chopin set out to Western Europe to begin his career. Soon afterwards, in 1830, the November Uprising broke out in Warsaw. In his own words, M. Chopin “cursed the moment of his departure”, wishing that he could have stayed behind to support his friends. He felt angered and betrayed that the Russians had continued to take every last bit of Polish liberty and autonomy until Poland was all but part of not only the Russian Empire but Russia itself.
Since settling in Paris, M. Chopin has maintained close ties with his fellow Poles, including Julian Fontana, Jan Matuszyński, Albert Gryzmała, Juliusz Słowacki, and Adam Mickiewicz. It is clear that M. Chopin is a true patriot for his country, however, the fact that he did not return to his homeland to fight in the November Uprising, would perhaps suggest that he is not in fact a revolutionary.
Differing from M. Liszt, M. Chopin appears to have an ingrained respect for authority that goes beyond cordiality. He is not in favour of disorder and finds fighting distasteful. It has been suggested by my colleagues that he is a pacifist; I do not disagree.
In summary, whilst M. Chopin has reason to want to fight for independence, due to the current situation in his home country, this is a compulsion solely tied to Poland. Despite his father being of French origins, M. Chopin considers himself Polish above all, and remains pacific and apolitical with regards to matters of the French constitution. Thus, of the two, he is the lesser threat.
How the Two Composers Met
M. Liszt and M. Chopin first met at M. Chopin’s debut concert in Paris, 1832. M. Liszt was instantly impressed by his piano playing and asked M. Pleyel, in whose concert hall M. Chopin was playing, to introduce them. They did not meet again for some while after this, until the two happened to attend the same salon together.
At this salon, M. Liszt begged M. Chopin to let him play one of his ‘études’. Warmed by M. Liszt’s praise, M. Chopin agreed and was astounded by the virtuosic playing of his acquaintance. When M. Liszt had finished, he could not bring himself to stand, as everyone else had, to give M. Liszt a round of applause. Fearing that his interpretation of M. Chopin’s music had been misguided, M. Liszt asked if he had not liked his playing.
Staring at the other in awe, M. Chopin affirmed that he was not silent due to dislike but due to pleasant shock. He announced that he had never heard his music be played in such a way and that he was quite jealous. This made quite an impression upon M. Liszt, who insisted at once that they share the piano stool and play something together. Unusually agreeable, M. Chopin sat down next to M. Liszt and the two of them proceeded to excite their audience with a performance of Mozart’s piano sonata for four hands in D major.
Again, M. Chopin, who is rather more passive than M. Liszt, did not feel the need to actively maintain relations with M. Liszt, believing that their association was sufficient. Thus, M. Liszt had to purposefully seek M. Chopin out when he wanted to meet him. Living, at the time, in adjoining arrondissements, M. Liszt decided to make a visit to M. Chopin at his apartment.
Unexpectedly, on turning into rue Poissonnière— the address at which M. Chopin lived during this period— the carriage which M. Liszt was occupying was knocked by another passing carriage. The horses reared up and, out of control, crashed M. Liszt’s carriage into the lamppost outside M. Chopin’s apartment building. Disturbed by the noise below, M. Chopin opened his window to see the wounded M. Liszt untangling himself from the wrecked carriage before helping the coachman out too. They exchanged a few words in the street, with M. Liszt handing the coachman a lot more money than the journey was likely worth, then M. Liszt disappeared from view, having entered M. Chopin’s building.
According to M. Chopin himself, at this point he ran down the stairs to the foyer, to find M. Liszt standing there looking very proper, with his gloves, walking cane, and his top hat— although no cravat as usual— yet covered in blood. M. Chopin beckoned him to follow him to his apartment immediately, where he tended to M. Liszt’s wounds, which included a scrape spanning from his temple to his cheek and a cut along his rib cage.
Liszt explained that he had wanted to visit M. Chopin, as he hadn’t seen him as much as he would have liked since their performance in the salon. Surprised and a little discomfited by M. Liszt’s blatant disregard for all of his injuries, as well as his energetic temperament despite such a recent shock, M. Chopin replied that he was not used to people being as emotionally forward as M. Liszt was being at that moment, but that he was honoured to be of such interest.
Understanding M. Chopin’s timidity, M. Liszt suggested that they meet at a restaurant in the future, to discuss matters of music and friendship. M. Chopin agreed and a tentative friendship began.
In time, they have become inseparable at public events and M. Liszt’s presence alone has become a known and sure way of luring M. Chopin, whose reserve and bashfulness often get the better of him, to a new salon or occasionally to a concert.
Apropos of the relations between the Parisian artists, which all tend to be romantic in nature, not in the manner of love but in the manner of Epicurus, M. Liszt’s and M. Chopin’s is unparalleled in its intimacy and closeness. This has led to rumours, in certain quarters, that this is not merely a romantic friendship at all, but in fact something more perturbing.
The Nature of M. Liszt and M. Chopin’s Relationship
The nature of M. Liszt and M. Chopin’s relationship is something that remains widely speculated. This department believes, however, that there is sufficient evidence that their relationship is as vulgar and objectionable as is supposed by certain members of the public. This speculation has been left unaddressed by both M. Chopin and M. Liszt, who seem not to want to acknowledge anything untoward.
It is not unusual to see the pair holding hands, whether it be during concerts, salons, dinner parties, restaurants or a walk in one of Paris’ many jardins. Moreover, from time to time, the pair have been known to kiss each other in public. For instance, at a recent concert of Chopin’s, M. Liszt was seen kissing him on the cheek before he went on stage. Perhaps it was for encouragement.
Whenever the two share a carriage, M. Liszt alights first before helping M. Chopin down, as though he were a lady. This shameless behaviour continues in more private settings too. At salons, M. Liszt and M. Chopin can be found pressed tightly together on a chaise longue or a sofa, whispering incessantly to each other whilst other poor musicians try to play or nervous poets try to pour out their heart. They create an inattentive environment, enough to put off any artist, appeasing only their own desires— although, for this fault, more blame lies with M. Liszt.
The silken quality to M. Chopin’s hair, which is noted by all, enraptures M. Liszt as much as any other. In the privacy of the salon, he is unconcerned by reaction as he twirls one of M. Chopin’s painstakingly waxed curls between his fingers, until the wax has all worn out and the hair becomes soft. M. Chopin, who is better trained in social etiquette, has no trouble ignoring M. Liszt’s affection until convenient, frequently leaving the sofa in favour of playing the piano without even a backwards glance. It is all a pretence though, for when he returns to the sofa, he always clasps M. Liszt’s hand in his, many a time bringing it to his lips too.
M. Liszt, who is prone to drinking an excess of alcohol, and who is not averse to a cigar or two either, will often end the night with his head on M. Chopin’s shoulder, whilst M. Chopin tries to soothe away whatever demons have caused such a show of alcoholism in the first place. He forbids M. Liszt from becoming leery and holds him steady in his arms until the moment when, having decided to retire for the night, he bundles M. Liszt into a carriage and sends him home, or otherwise shares one with him.
Nowadays, the two composers live only two streets away, in the Rue Laffitte and the Rue de la Chaussé-d’Antin. It is unknown whether their repugnant behaviour continues into each other’s bedchambers or whether they have the decency to avoid such things. Regardless, it has been reported that the two do, and have, visited each other at night, although to what purpose is uncertain.
Evidently, there appears to be some truth to the scandalous behaviour M. Liszt and M. Chopin have been accused of. Although they refuse to address such rumours, to what end is unclear. Perhaps their friendship is truly filled with such affection; they do not address the rumours because they are silly and untrue. Or they are engaging in a relationship of sodomy; they do not address the rumours because they are true and they do not wish to draw more attention to themselves. This crime alone could be investigated in and of itself. Furthermore, if it were the latter, it would indicate a disregard for societal rules and self-respect. This behavioural disposition could encourage further rebellious action, something which this government fears.
Testimony of Victor Hugo
As a department, we are always eager to talk to anyone who has any information that may help us in our inquiries. The greatest help in our investigation of M. Liszt and M. Chopin so far has been M. Hugo who, despite spending much of his time among liberal artists, considers himself a monarchist and as such, has volunteered much helpful information regarding the two composers.
To make the most of his cooperation, we decided to interview him so that we might better direct our questions. The interview was conducted by Brigadier-Major Gustave Merleaux under our supervision and instruction. He reports his findings from the interview below.
Notes on an interview held between myself (Brig. Maj. Gustave Merleaux) and M. Hugo
On walking into the interview room, M. Hugo looks tense, as though expecting to be reprimanded at any minute. He probably feels like he is betraying his friends. I immediately try to put his mind at ease and tell him that we are extremely grateful that he has decided to share this information with us.
“I don’t want to, you understand,” he replies. “I have to. For the safety of his majesty, King Louis-Philippe.”
“Quite,” I say. “The safety of the King is of the utmost importance.” I wait until he is sat down and then I begin the questions. “Now, M. Hugo, you say you have evidence that M. Liszt and M. Chopin are involved in seditious behaviour.”
“Yes. Or at least, I have reason to believe they are.”
“You have witnessed it.”
“Yes.”
“Alright, describe to me what this behaviour entails.”
Hugo remains nervous and hesitant, drumming his fingers on the table. He says nothing.
“Would you like a drink of water,” I offer.
“Yes please.”
I order Constable Pierrot beside me to fetch him a drink. Cup in hand, M. Hugo nods.
“Right. Okay. Well it was at M. Liszt’s apartment, you see, in the summer of 1832. That’s when I first noticed what was going on, at least. I’m aware his involvement has… increased… since then.”
“What did you witness in his apartment?” I prompt.
“I was earlier than I’d meant to be but Franz doesn’t mind people letting themselves into his apartment, so that’s what I did. I went to his living room so that I could wait sitting on the sofa and I saw that there was sheet music on the lid of his grand piano. The sheets were rather scattered, in the way an artist’s pots might be when he’s taken by a craze of inspiration, and my mind went instantly to the fact that he’s a composer; I never would have read them if I’d known they were letters. As it was, I thought it might be a new composition. I can read music and I thought I might have a quick look; I have always liked his compositions, I’m sure you can appreciate.
“I picked up the sheet music, expecting to find it covered in notes, and discovered instead that it was covered with Liszt’s scribbled handwriting. The first sentence talked about an order of gunpowder. I confess, I could have stopped there, but I continued reading, perplexed as to why Franz was writing about such a violent substance. I finished the letter. From what I understand, Franz was in contact with the organisers behind the June rebellion. He had enough money coming in from concerts to fund them. He would’ve been roughly the same age as them, as well. They were all mostly university students.”
“Yes, they were,” I break in. “What, apart from the gunpowder, made you think it was about the June Rebellion?”
“General Lamarque was mentioned twice in the letter. Apparently, Franz was as upset as the students about his death.”
“Alright,” I say, “and what of M. Chopin?”
“Well, the thing is, I don’t think Franz ever stopped being involved in revolutionary activity. And now that he and Frédéric influence each other so, Frédéric was bound to get mixed up in it eventually. I admit, I wouldn’t have expected it of him, although I suppose he’s so close to Franz that… Well, perhaps it shouldn’t have been so unexpected.
“Occasionally Franz would say things— at dinner parties, salons, whatever— that didn’t quite sit right, usually when he was particularly drunk. About how France would be better off as a republic, sans monarchy, etc. Or even just conversation about the best make of gun and bullets… Hector was always ready to fuel that fire.
“I didn’t trust them both, so I followed them back from a concert one evening. They did not return home as I had expected, or rather hoped. They caught a cab— and I followed suit— which took them out of the city until we were at an estate on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne. It was a large château but it was completely abandoned, probably since the fall of the Ancien Régime. I waited inside my own cab until I thought Franz and Frédéric had gone inside— it was night by then, so it was difficult to tell.
“Then, as discreetly as I could, I snuck into the mansion via the servant’s door. There were no lamps lit inside and the châteaux felt completely empty. In some areas, chunks of the ceiling had fallen down, and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. I wandered around for ages, worried that I was getting more and more lost, but luckily, just before I was about to leave, I heard voices above me. I ascended to the second floor and peered around several doors, scared of what I might find.”
“And did you find anything?” I interrupt. M. Hugo is an author in everything he does; even his speech is prosaic and long-winded.
“Yes. I peered around the third door from the end of the corridor and suddenly the voices became louder, as though I was in the same room. But I wasn’t, for the room I was looking into was empty. I crossed through the room, looking around to see if there was another door. There wasn’t but I did catch sight of a wardrobe. I went up to it and opened one of its doors very slowly. I had been correct in guessing that it was a hidden door; the wardrobe had no back.
“The next room was lit dimly with candles and held within it a group of people sitting in a circle. They sat on furniture (that was still covered in decades’ old dust sheets) which had been tugged into a vaguely circular pattern that almost emulated what one imagines a meeting of the carbonari to look like. The room was not overly big and painted a rather intimate picture as several young men debated among each other in hushed tones.
“As I expected, Franz and Frédéric were seated on a chaise longue to my right. Frédéric was lounging against Franz’ chest, much in the manner of La maja vestida, and looked completely at ease with the situation as Franz argued the best way to stage a revolution with a blond man opposite.
“The blond man was arguing that the use of barricades hadn’t helped at all in the June Rebellion whilst Franz argued that they caused disruption by blocking traffic and that they afforded them the best protection from the authorities. I do not wish to presume they were planning a revolution, but that’s certainly what it sounded like. I never saw Frédéric contribute anything to the conversation that evening, but he seemed content to be there, perhaps because that’s what Franz wanted, I do not know.
“Anyway, I left before they did, so I didn’t see it all. But suffice to say their actions have been worrying me. The meeting at the château was only four months ago.”
“Yes, I find it very troubling indeed,” I say. “Let me just finish making my notes…”
I know that this is the point where I ensure he is a reliable source.
“Can you just tell me of your relation to M. Liszt and M. Chopin?”
“Yes, Franz has been a good friend to me. Frédéric I know a little less well, but he has always been perfectly pleasant.”
“No arguments that I need to know about?”
Hugo pauses for several seconds. “Not really. Only… I dislike his pretension. He thinks he can read one poem of Lamartine’s, read one book of Rousseau’s and suddenly he’s a genius. Suddenly, no one knows better than Franz. But no, I have not fought him on the matter. I merely dislike his attitude from time to time.”
Ho! I think to myself. So you think M. Liszt is overly pretentious? What a funny man M. Hugo is. Clearly, he cannot stand someone sharing his limelight. Nonetheless, his allegations against M. Liszt and M. Chopin could have some truth, especially given their position in society. This must be investigated, lest it become something more dangerous than it already might be. France cannot survive another revolution.
Police Interview With M. Liszt
On Brig. Maj. Merleaux’s personal recommendation, M. Liszt was detained at his home on Sunday the 17th of February. He was brought down to 36 Quai des Orfèvres, where Brig. Maj. Merleaux was able to question him, as a criminal, under the authority of the Sûreté nationale. The following is a record of their interview.
Notes on an interview held between myself (Brig. Maj. Gustave Merleaux) and M. Liszt
M. Liszt holds eye contact with me bravely from the second he walks through the door. I sense that he is aware of the direction of this interview before it has even begun. I will not apologise for my techniques: they work.
“Sit down,” I say, gesturing to the chair across the table from me and M. Pierrot. He does so. “You understand why you’re here?” I ask.
He nods his head.
“Good. Well, we’ll start then.”
Pierrot places a letter on the table. M. Liszt looks down at it; his expression remains the same.
“Do you know what that is?” I ask.
“No, Monsieur,” he says politely.
“It’s a letter, addressed to you, sent by one M. Lambert. We seized it from your apartment after your arrest. Lambert is a known revolutionary.”
“Yes,” agrees M. Liszt. “He is also a student of mine.”
“A student?”
“Yes, for piano.”
I study the letter and pick out a section. “‘M. Liszt, as you are a little older than I, perhaps you have some more experience in matters of politics. Why is it that the monarchy feels the need to exclude us from everything? Us middling sort have nearly as much money and wealth as they do. And yet with no blue blood, we cannot be part of the club. Something must be done.’”
“So I’m a reformer; that’s not a crime, is it?” He leans comfortably back in his chair.
“He says something must be done. What is he suggesting?”
“How am I to know? I can’t read his thoughts. Yes, perhaps, as you are implying, he wants a revolution. That doesn’t mean that I do. Just because I associate with someone, does not mean we are the same.”
“But it could.”
“What?”
“Mean that you are the same. Or at least similar.”
“Well, yes. Everyone searches for a friend or two who shares their greatest interests, Monsieur. But I do not consider Jean one of those friends.”
“Alright,” I say. “How about something with more serious implications?”
M. Pierrot removes the letter from the table and deposits a gun where it had been.
“You do not have a licence for this firearm,” I say.
“No, I do not. I apologise, Monsieur. I am perfectly happy to pay the fine, which I know to be the penalty for such a crime, if it will save time with this interview.”
M. Liszt is very self-confident, to a point where he might be considered arrogant were he not so congenial. He knows that illegal firearm ownership does not warrant a stint in prison.
“I imagine the prefecture will eventually get round to that. However, that is not what I’m interested in. What I’m interested in is finding out whether you are or aren’t involved in revolutionary activities. That goes for your friend, M. Chopin, too.”
That has the desired effect. M. Liszt’s eyes widen imperceptibly and he tilts his head slightly to the side.
“You’ve arrested Frédéric?”
“Indeed we have, M. Liszt. Let’s see which of you breaks first, shall we?”
M. Liszt thinks in silence for a second and then says, “Monsieur, we shan’t need to be broken because there’s nothing to find out. Why exactly do you think we’re mixed up in all of this anyway? Has someone brought forward an accusation?”
“I can’t tell you that,” I say, wondering where this is going.
“It was Victor, wasn’t it? That bastard! He’s had it in for me since the day we met!”
“Oh really?” I ask. I’m not sure which man I have more difficulty in believing: M. Hugo or M. Liszt.
“Yes, he’s frustrated about some woman or another that I’ve been with. It must be something like that. Pure jealousy, that’s what he is.”
“Some woman?” I ask, surprised. “As in a romantic attachment of some kind?”
“Yes, what else?”
“Hmm, okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. Okay. Anyway, I would like you to tell me where you were on the 4th of October last year.”
M. Liszt squints his eyes disbelievingly. “The 4th of October? How do you expect me to remember that?”
“Oh I think you remember,” I say. “Do you recognise the name Château de Saulieu?”
“No, Monsieur, I can’t say that I do.”
I stare at him coldly. “Don’t lie to me. You went there for a meeting, didn’t you? With M. Chopin.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Pierrot, show him the cloak,” I demand. M. Pierrot leaves the room and comes back with a black wool cloak in his hand. I take the cloak from him and search in the fabric until I find a tag.
“We found this cloak in the château,” I say. “It’s made of beautiful wool, isn’t it?”
“Looks like it.”
“Well, isn’t it a funny coincidence that it’s made by Rosen & Sons?” I show him the tag. “That’s your tailor, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. What a funny coincidence,” Liszt deadpans. He knows I can’t get him for that— the evidence is too weak. I want to bang my fist on the table.
“So I have an eyewitness who places you at a meeting of revolutionaries on the 4th of October. And now I have this cloak too. That’s enough for me to take this case to court, you know.”
M. Liszt nods. “I know. But the case will fall through. It’s weak evidence Monsieur.”
We both know it.
During the course of our interviews, we have deprived both M. Liszt and M. Chopin of food and water, hoping that that could ease our extraction of a confession. This is not the case with M. Liszt, who seems to take it very personally that, not only is he being subjected to this treatment, but as we have informed him, so is M. Chopin.
He worries that we will “make him ill, again.” To which I have replied that there are many people in this country who go a whole week without eating, not just two days. At this point he mumbles something under his breath about that “being the exact problem”. Although I find this irrelevant to our conversation and ignore him.
“M. Chopin is being far more flexible than you,” I say off-handedly, three days into the interviews. “He’s told us plenty about your meetings with revolutionaries.”
M. Liszt’s knuckles whiten as he grips the armrests of his chair. “You’re lying. There’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh there’s always something to tell,” I reply. Up until this point I have been pacing the room. I come to sit on the table, looking down at M. Liszt. “Tell us about your relationship with M. Chopin.” If I can’t get him for seditious activities, I can get him for public indecency— providing the rumours are correct.
There is anger in M. Liszt’s eyes but his face remains perfectly calm.
“We are good friends.”
“Uh huh. You live near each other, don’t you? Do you visit each other often?”
M. Liszt watches me carefully and crosses his arms. “Look,” he says. “I know what you’re implying, but the rumours couldn’t be further from the truth. I worship him for his piano playing, that is all.”
“I’m sure,” I say. “And what of the rumours of you kissing. Are they false too?”
“A peck on the cheek is not the same thing as a kiss on the mouth.”
“No it’s not. But as far as I’m aware, you have been accused of doing both.”
A small sneer has appeared at the corner of M. Liszt’s mouth. “Then the accuser is lying. I kissed him once, if you ignore la bise, and it was on the cheek for good luck. Merely a friendly gesture.”
“I have no doubt,” I say impassively. “M. Chopin is a lucky man… to have such friends.”
Here, he leans forward in his chair and informs me that I can “sod off.”
I nod to M. Pierrot, it’s time to start the next stage of our interrogation.
When a suspect is being particularly difficult, it is often better to apply physical force to get a confession. This requires a different type of interrogation room, where the suspect, M. Liszt, is tied to a chair. There is no light and no heating, making it very cold in mid-February.
It starts with M. Pierrot throwing a bucket of water in his face. I grab M. Liszt by the lapels. “Confess,” I growl. “Confess to sedition. Confess to sodomy!”
M. Liszt splutters in my grasp. “I can’t confess to something I haven’t done!”
“Everyone and their mother knows you're a filthy sodomite,” I hiss, trying to get a reaction.
He says nothing.
I let him go and he falls backwards into his chair, sopping hair covering his eyes. He shakes his head. “Me, a sodomite? You’re the one getting a kick out of getting other men wet.”
I will not excuse myself for punching him in the face. It is utterly deserved.
M. Liszt glares up at me, cupping his bleeding nose with his hands.
“For every time I ask you to confess and you don’t,” I say, “M. Chopin will come closer and closer to being in the same position as you are now.”
He grinds his teeth together and tries to kick me in the leg, failing miserably given that he’s tied to the chair. “Leave Frédéric alone.”
“Give me my confession,” I return. M. Liszt spits at my feet and looks up at me with a grim determination.
“I confess that I have slept with…”
I think he’s going to say it.
“… your mother.”
I punch him again without even having to think about it. The man is full of disrespect. On the verge of unconsciousness, his head lolls forwards as I order M. Pierrot to throw more water at him.
“Are you a revolutionary?” I demand.
“No,” M. Liszt croaks
“Then why were you consorting with revolutionaries?”
“They’re— I wasn’t.”
He almost slipped up there, I can feel it.
“You were going to say something. What were you about to say? What did you stop yourself from saying?”
“Nothing.”
“What were you going to say?” I roar.
“Nothing!” he roars back.
“Alright,” I say, going suddenly quiet. “I suppose that ‘Frédéric’ will just have to do his time in here as well. Do you know how much easier it is to torture someone when they’re naked? The cane works a lot better, I can tell you that.” I have no intention of going quite this far, especially given M. Chopin’s famous ill health, but M. Liszt doesn’t know this.
“Take his name out of your mouth,” he grunts.
“You’re a protective little bitch, aren’t you?”
Again he says nothing.
“I wonder,” I start goadingly, “do you fuck him or does he fuck you?”
“I fuck women,” rasps M. Liszt.
“And men too, no doubt. You’re too proud to be receiving, that’s for certain.”
“Shut up,” he says, fed up with my taunting. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” M. Liszt sounds tired and I think that now, if ever, I can break him.
“You love him.”
M. Liszt looks me quietly in the eye. “I hate you.”
“You don’t deny it.”
“Of course I deny it. You won’t listen to me.”
I shake him and tell him that “I can make all this go away, all these rumours, if you just confess to being a revolutionary. That’ll taint your reputation far less than being a sodomite.”
M. Liszt catches his breath as I let him go.
“You’ve got nothing on me for either, and you know it.”
I stare into his determined eyes. He isn’t breaking.
He sighs. “Just let us go. This is clearly just a case of Victor being angry, wishing to hurt us.”
“Why would he want to hurt M. Chopin, he barely knows him.”
“I don’t know,” shrugs M. Liszt, still doubled over in the chair. “Collateral.”
It makes sense, although it still feels like there are some things that don’t add up. However, I can’t pin my finger on what’s wrong.
“I know what you are.” That’s the last thing I can say. Although, as per usual, M. Liszt has to have the last word.
“You know what you think I am.”
I end the interrogation. We are going round in circles. I can’t keep him in custody for more than a week. I may not have enough to put M. Liszt in prison but I have enough to ensure that the government will keep their eye on him. He’s a dangerous character; that I am sure of.
Police Interview With M. Chopin
Brig. Maj. Merleaux interviewed M. Chopin at the same time as M. Liszt, in a room on the first floor, as opposed to M. Liszt’s room on the ground floor. This interview too was unsuccessful in finding substantive evidence to sentence either of the two men, but is helpful in the information provided. Through this interview, we have been able to build a full profile of the two, which we present in this report.
Notes on an interview held between myself (Brig. Maj. Gustave Merleaux) and M. Chopin
M. Chopin is a shy man, which makes his association with M. Liszt all the more confounding. On entering the room, he stutters a polite hello and sits down in the chair before being asked, leading to an awkward moment where he leaps out of the chair, as though burnt, and looks at me for permission before allowing himself to sit back down again.
Throughout the interview process, M. Chopin is inclined to agree with most of what M. Liszt says, with regards to that which they are accused of. I try to pick apart his political stance and he says, “I care little for politics. My interest is with art and art alone.” And apropos of my questions on his understanding of the class system, he replies, “I’m not sure why it is that you think I’m so against the aristocracy. I have the greatest respect for my patrons. Without them, I would be unable to live as a composer.”
He is shivering like a leaf but he is strict with himself. He knows how to keep schtum.
“I have to tell you,” I point out. “That you are not our main suspect, M. Liszt is. So, is there anything you can tell us about him in relation to these accusations of sedition?”
“M. Liszt is not the kind of person to get mixed up in such affairs.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I spend time with him, and I’m not the sort of person to get mixed up in such affairs.”
“That’s hardly a good reason.”
“It’s my reason,” he replies.
“And you haven’t accompanied him to any meetings?”
“No.”
“Seen him write any letters?”
“No.”
“Alright. Can you tell me where you were on the night of the 4th of October last year?”
M. Chopin frowns. “Not really. Perhaps if I had access to my diary…”
“I shall see if we can get hold of it.”
The next day, before the next round of interviewing begins, M. Pierrot hands me a small leather-bound book. It is M. Chopin’s diary.
In the interview room, I pass it over to M. Chopin. “Flip to the 4th,” I say.
He does so and looks at the page.
“Where were you that night?”
“Well… it only says ‘Château’. So I suppose I was round at Marie d’Agoult’s. She’s my only friend who lives in a château.”
“Right,” I say, unconvinced. “And would she corroborate that?”
“I imagine so.” M. Chopin seems confident. Apparently, M. Liszt’s self-assurance has rubbed off on him.
As with M. Liszt, I get nowhere with M. Chopin on the sedition line of inquiry. On the third day, I change tack.
“You must be aware, Monsieur, that there are rumours circulating Paris with regards to the nature of yours and M. Liszt’s relationship.”
The man goes very pale then and seems to shrink back into his chair.
“I have to say that I don’t know what you’re referring to,” says M. Chopin. He prefers to gaze down at his fingers rather than look me in the eye.
Alongside M. Liszt, M. Chopin too has been deprived of food and water, in order to extract an easy confession. He appears weak under this line of questioning.
“You look after each other, don’t you?” I say, trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
“I suppose, as friends do.”
“You understand, Monsieur, that I am not referring to friendship. The rumours say that you are together… that you sleep together.”
Whilst M. Chopin was worryingly pale a minute ago, he is now violently pink.
“We are doing no such thing. We merely happen to share a close friendship.”
“There are press reports of you holding hands.”
“I am an ill man, Monsieur. Sometimes I need physical support.”
“Is that why you visit his apartment late at night? For… physical support? ” I keep my face blank as tears spring to M. Chopin’s eyes.
“How could you accuse me of such a thing? It’s— it’s just abominable!”
“I don’t wish to upset you, Monsieur. I am conducting an interview.”
He nods, wiping his eyes with a gloved hand.
“Look,” I say. “I won’t tell anyone about your… little secret, if you give me something on M. Liszt.”
He looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Eventually, he says in a small voice, “There’s nothing to know.” Just then his stomach rumbles loudly. He looks up at me with desperation. “Will you let me eat soon?”
“Not unless you give me some information of worth. M. Liszt hasn’t eaten either and he’s been here for a day longer than you.”
“You’ve not fed him for four days?” M. Chopin looks shocked.
“No.”
“You’re a real monster, you know.”
“You’ll soon find out that I can be worse, if you keep criticising my methods.”
He draws back from the table, surprised fear sparking in his eyes; my methods have caught him off-guard. “My apologies, Monsieur.”
“I hear M. Liszt is popular with the ladies,” I continue, wondering if M. Chopin has a jealous streak.
“He is,” he nods.
“Mme d’Agoult, you talked about her. She’s a fan of his, isn’t she?”
“Something like that.”
“There’s conjecture that they’ve had an affair.”
“Yes, but they haven’t.”
“Oh? How do you know?”
“She repulses Franz with her clinginess. He doesn’t like women who are clingy.”
“No… Only men.”
Openly confused, M. Chopin gazes at me until my meaning dawns on him.
“I never said that.”
“No, that’s true,” I reply. “I only inferred…”
“Well you inferred wrongly.” He chews his lower lip. “Monsieur, you base a lot of your evidence on hearsay. It is unprofessional.”
“I have told you not to criticise me,” I remind him sternly. “So,” I say, cutting to the chase, “do you deny having engaged in indecent behaviour with M. Liszt?”
M. Chopin scratches his chin. His tears are gone and now he is completely serious. He leans across the table.
“I deny all accusations brought against us. But you know, Monsieur, sodomy is not illegal in France.”
I am shocked by his sudden display of gall but he continues before I can interrupt.
“That is not to say that it’s legality impacts me in any way— it doesn’t— but given that that’s the direction you appear to be heading…”
“You’re right, Monsieur, but egregious exhibitions of public affection between two men is. You have been seen… embracing… in public.”
M. Chopin mulls this over. “Whatever people think they have seen, they are mistaken. My friendship with Franz remains purely platonic.” He pauses and seems to appraise me for a moment. “Have you ever been in love with someone, Monsieur?”
“I have a wife,” I reply.
“Then you know that it isn’t something you can help, something you can control. Love is boundless.”
His drawing connections between my innocent love for my wife and his sickening love for M. Liszt frustrates me.
“Perhaps,” he goes on, “you should be less quick to judge those around you. You cannot be guilty of love. You, Monsieur, ought to be intelligent enough to know that.”
I am suddenly very much aware that M. Chopin is just as formidable as M. Liszt. In two utterly different ways, of course, but still in equal amounts. Where M. Liszt is stubborn, clever and courageous, M. Chopin is quiet, manipulative and polite. M. Chopin is perhaps even more clever at redirection than M. Liszt, as his sharp criticisms cut deep, particularly when juxtaposed with his shy mannerisms.
“It is better to put no one in prison, than to put an innocent man there,” he reminds me. “You are much too eager to see men locked up, regardless of their crimes.”
I conclude the interview early, before I even consider putting M. Chopin in the interrogation room. It is going nowhere further. M. Chopin’s reactions to my accusations have proved that he and M. Liszt are in a scandalous relationship to all but the eyes of the law. I have a name too, in relation to revolutionary activities: Marie d’Agoult. Although she seems like a weak connection at best. M. Chopin himself does not seem to me like a revolutionary, but like a follower of M. Liszt who has been caught up in the crossfire. His devotion disgusts me, but I cannot blame him for M. Liszt’s crime.
Note from department
Following these two interviews, particularly that of M. Liszt, Brig. Maj. Merleaux has been demoted to Colonel for his overly violent conduct. Whilst some prompting through threats is to be expected in police interviews, this department does not tolerate such harsh treatment of suspects. Thus, all of his notes are to be observed with some level of skepticism.
Conclusion
In the final analysis, the backgrounds of both M. Liszt and M. Chopin could explain, to some extent, any potential involvement in seditious activities. This is corroborated by the fact that M. Liszt considers himself a republican, as seen from the interview, however there is no solid evidence that either of them have been engaged in such activities, only the eyewitness account of M. Hugo, a letter to M. Liszt from M. Lambert, a known revolutionary, and a cloak found at one of the crime scenes made by the same tailor that M. Liszt uses.
The childhoods of M. Liszt and M. Chopin do not explain, however, their apparent propensity for sexual deviance. Whilst such behaviour is difficult to prove without being inside M. Liszt or M. Chopin’s very bedchambers, conjecture around their relationship has become so widespread that we find there must be some truth in the matter.
Therefore, despite, at this moment in time, not having enough proof to apprehend either man, we can assess their threat level as thus: M. Chopin does not pose a threat to the safety of the King or the safety of this country. He is too grateful to the aristocracy for their patronage to actively wish their downfall. However his passivity and his willingness to follow M. Liszt’s example mean that he could be led to participate in a revolution under the right conditions. Consequently, M. Liszt poses far more of a threat as, not only does he display revolutionary sympathies, but he also exerts a great influence on others. It is advised that the government keeps a close eye on M. Liszt so that we may smother any fire that he attempts to stoke in regards to the revolutionary cause.