The Alfred Cortot Masterclass: A Golden Age Guide to Chopin’s Ballades

English Translation of the Captions:

The four Ballades are inspired by the legends of Mickiewicz.
*00:06*
And here, the poetic text that Chopin is said to have alluded to is the legend of Conrad Wallenrod, who had resolved to exterminate his adversaries by any means necessary.

*00:23*
This is, in reality, just a hypothesis.

*00:26*
The period of composition.

*00:29*
These magnificent masterpieces correspond to the time when Chopin returned to Paris after having been in contact with Maria Wodzińska. Having become engaged to her, he waited with growing anxiety each day for the response that his fiancée’s father was to give.

*00:55*
Regarding, uh…

*00:57*
His authorization for the marriage?

*00:59*
In any case, what is essential in this Ballade is to give it a narrative character.

*02:01*
The same thing throughout, no?

*02:15*
From here, it should be a little more mysterious, and the beginning should be slightly more menacing.

*06:15*
More pathetic, more communicative, and then, here, even more menacing than the first time. Do not rush.

*06:44*
A little more marked, right? The sonority—these final chords are like a kind of stone being placed on a tomb after a disappearance.

*07:10*
The same thing, and the breathing should have, so to speak, a catastrophic character.

*07:21*
Isn't that right for this Ballade?

*07:27*
It illustrates a poem by Mickiewicz, depicting the innocent happiness of a young couple.

*07:38*
They swear eternal love to each other.

*07:42*
A question, then an answer, another question, then another answer. The young girl first asks, "Do you love me?"

*07:51*
The young man eagerly responds, naturally. But then, when he asks, "Do you love me too?"

*07:58*
She replies—well, it’s childish, but that’s the meaning of the story.

*08:03*
And then, after this dialogue…

*08:05*
This young girl, through a kind of miraculous sorcery, transforms into an Ondine to test whether her lover would remain faithful. She lures him into the web of her seduction.

*08:22*
It is, in essence, the Ondine of Ravel. Unfortunately, the young man succumbs to her charms. To punish him for his infidelity…

*08:34*
The young girl forces him to keep turning in circles in the water, where the Ondine has drawn him in, as he tries in vain to reach her.

*08:46*
So, there is a clear expressive progression here. At the beginning, I believe it is essential to have a tone that is slightly more expressive in posing the question.

*09:45*
To conclude this introduction, but in an even more urgent manner afterward.

*11:37*
You were right not to play too fast.

*11:40*
It must be melodic, but the passage still needs movement.

*11:54*
It is always played poorly because the indication is not taken into account.

*12:02*
And giving this left hand—no, no, it’s nothing.

*12:52*
And so, the drama unfolds, doesn't it, in these calls, and then…

*12:58*
And then?

*13:01*
The two themes confront each other, tormented, one aggressive and the other, on the contrary, fearful, right?

*13:12*
That’s what needs to be highlighted a little better.

*15:06*
At the end of his life—since this work is one of his last compositions—there is this concern, this need to reconnect with his homeland, whose songs he no longer hears, not in a violent or sorrowful way, but in longing.

Alfred Cortot’s greatness shines most in his chamber music—his trio with Casals and Thibaud is the stuff of legend. While some may argue for him as the greatest pianist of the 20th century, true or not, there was never a greater poet of the piano. His playing exudes warmth, and his vision for music is uniquely lyrical.

There are two Cortots: pre-Wagner and post-Wagner. Before his immersion in Wagner, he was a brilliant yet somewhat dry and elegant French pianist, his performances dazzling in technique but lacking depth. This changed when he immersed himself in Wagnerian philosophy, conducting, and orchestral work at Bayreuth. By the time he returned to the piano, he had transformed. His playing now had a grandeur that set him apart.

Many dismiss Cortot for his missed notes, but this is to misunderstand him. He was a live artist, from an era when recordings were an afterthought. He did not believe in the permanence of recorded music, and his focus was always on musical meaning rather than mechanical perfection. When required, he had technique in abundance—his early recordings proved as much—but he saw no need to prove himself through technical exactitude when there were greater artistic priorities.

Cortot may or may not have been the greatest pianist of the 20th century, but ranking artists is a futile exercise. He remains one of the most illuminating figures in piano history, a musician who still has much to teach those willing to listen.