that was present.  From this and another remark, that few of the haute volee had as yet heard him, it appears that the aristocracy, for the most part living on their estates, was not largely represented at the concert.  Thinking as he did of the public, he was surprised that the Adagio had found such general favour, and that he heard everywhere the most flattering remarks.  He was also told that “every note sounded like a bell,” and that he had “played much better on the second than on the first instrument.”  But although Elsner held that Chopin could only be judged after the second concert, and Kurpinski and others expressed their regret that he did not play on the Viennese instrument at the first one, he confesses that he would have preferred playing on his own piano.  The success of the concerts may be measured by the following facts:  A travelling virtuoso and former pupil of the Paris Conservatoire, Dunst by name, offered in his enthusiasm to treat Chopin with champagne; the day after the second concert a bouquet with a poem was sent to him; his fellow-student Orlowski wrote mazurkas and waltzes on the principal theme of the Concerto, and published them in spite of the horrified composer’s request that he should not do so; Brzezina, the musicseller, asked him for his portrait, but, frightened at the prospect of seeing his counterfeit used as a wrapper for butter and cheese, Chopin declined to give it to him; the editor of the “Courier” inserted in his paper a sonnet addressed to Chopin.  Pecuniarily the concerts were likewise a success, although the concert-giver was of a different opinion.  But then he seems to have had quite prima donna notions about receipts, for he writes very coolly:  “From the two concerts I had, after deduction of all expenses, not as much as 5,000 florins (about 125 pounds).”  Indeed, he treats this part of the business very cavalierly, and declares that money was no object with him.  On the utterances of the papers, which, of course, had their say, Chopin makes some sensible and modest comments.

After my concerts there appeared many criticisms; if in them (especially in the “Kuryer Polski”) abundant praise was awarded to me, it was nevertheless not too extravagant.  The “Official Journal” has also devoted some columns to my praise; one of its numbers contained, among other things, such stupidities—­well meant, no doubt—­that I was quite desperate till I had read the answer in the “Gazeta Polska,” which justly takes away what the other papers had in their exaggeration attributed to me.  In this article it is said that the Poles will one day be as proud of me as the Germans are of Mozart, which is palpable nonsense.  But that is not all, the critic says further:  “That if I had fallen into the hands of a pedant or a Rossinist (what a stupid expression!) I could not have become what I am.”  Now, although I am as yet nothing, he is right in so far that my performance would be still less than it actually is if I had not studied