ease.  There he liked to dine, sup, lounge, chat, play, dance mazurkas, &c.  He often met there the violinist Slavik, and the day before Christmas played with him all the morning and evening, another day staying with him there till two o’clock in the morning.  We hear also of dinners at the house of his countrywoman Madame Elkan, and at Madame Schaschek’s, where (he writes in July, 1831) he usually met several Polish ladies, who by their hearty hopeful words always cheered him, and where he once made his appearance at four instead of the appointed dinner hour, two o’clock.  But one of his best friends was the medical celebrity Dr. Malfatti, physician-in-ordinary to the Emperor of Austria, better remembered by the musical reader as the friend of Beethoven, whom he attended in his last illness, forgetting what causes for complaint he might have against the too irritable master.  Well, this Dr. Malfatti received Chopin, of whom he had already heard from Wladyslaw Ostrowski, “as heartily as if I had been a relation of his” (Chopin uses here a very bold simile), running up to him and embracing him as soon as he had got sight of his visiting-card.  Chopin became a frequent guest at the doctor’s house; in his letters we come often on the announcement that he has dined or is going to dine on such or such a day at Dr. Malfatti’s.

December 1, 1830.—­On the whole things are going well with me, and I hope with God’s help, who sent Malfatti to my assistance—­oh, excellent Malfatti!—­that they will go better still.

   December 25, 1830.—­I went to dine at Malfatti’s.  This
   excellent man thinks of everything; he is even so kind as to
   set before us dishes prepared in the Polish fashion.

May 14, 1831.—­I am very brisk, and feel that good health is the best comfort in misfortune.  Perhaps Malfatti’s soups have strengthened me so much that I feel better than I ever did.  If this is really the case, I must doubly regret that Malfatti has gone with his family into the country.  You have no idea how beautiful the villa is in which he lives; this day week I was there with Hummel.  After this amiable physician had taken us over his house he showed us also his garden.  When we stood at the top of the hill, from which we had a splendid view, we did not wish to go down again.  The Court honours Malfatti every year with a visit.  He has the Duchess of Anhalt-Cothen as a neighbour; I should not wonder if she envied him his garden.  On one side one sees Vienna lying at one’s feet, and in such a way that one might believe it was joined to Schoenbrunn; on the other side one sees high mountains picturesquely dotted with convents and villages.  Gazing on this romantic panorama one entirely forgets the noisy bustle and proximity of the capital.

This is one of the few descriptive passages to be found in Chopin’s letters—­men and their ways interested him more than natural scenery.  But to return from the villa to its owner, Chopin