Field Fooled

In 1822 the celebrated pianist‑composer Johann Nepomuk Hummel arrived in Moscow with a grand duchess’s entourage. He was praised everywhere—yet one detail bothered him: John Field, the most famous pianist in Russia, hadn’t called on him.

Hummel finally went to Field’s rooms himself. Field was teaching, so the visitor waited. Hummel—short, thick‑set, plainly dressed—looked, as the story says, like a German farmer. Field, by contrast, was elegant and courtly.

When the lesson ended, Field asked gruffly what he wanted. Hummel replied modestly that he loved music, understood a little, and had come to hear Field play. Amused by what seemed like a rustic admirer, Field sat down and performed his own refined pieces beautifully.

Then Field decided to have some fun: he insisted the visitor should play. Hummel protested—he never played without notes, only noodled on an organ now and then. Field kept pushing. So Hummel sat at the piano, took one of Field’s themes, and spun it into a dazzling fantasia, packed with technique and expression.

Field jumped up, grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him, then hugged him and laughed: “You can’t fool me! You’re Hummel. No one else improvises like that!” From that moment, the two pianists were fast friends.