their mutual sympathy and antipathy may be easily guessed.  We are, however, not put to the trouble of guessing all.  Whoever has read anything about Chopin knows of course Field’s criticism of him—­namely, that he was “un talent de chambre de malade,” which, by the by, reminds one of a remark of Auber’s, who said that Chopin was dying all his life (il se meurt tonte sa vie).  It is a pity that we have not, as a pendant to Field’s criticism on Chopin, one of Chopin on Field.  But whatever impression Chopin may have received from the artist, he cannot but have been repelled by the man.  And yet the older artist’s natural disposition was congenial to that of the younger one, only intemperate habits had vitiated it.  Spohr saw Field in 1802-1803, and describes him as a pale, overgrown youth, whose dreamy, melancholy playing made people forget his awkward bearing and badly-fitting clothes.  One who knew Field at the time of his first successes portrays him as a young man with blonde hair, blue eyes, fair complexion, and pleasing features, expressive of the mood of the moment—­of child-like ingenuousness, modest good-nature, gentle roguishness, and artistic aspiration.  M. Marmontel, who made his acquaintance in 1832, represents him as a worn-out, vulgar-looking man of fifty, whose outward appearance contrasted painfully with his artistic performances, and whose heavy, thick-set form in conjunction with the delicacy and dreaminess of his musical thoughts and execution called to mind Rossini’s saying of a celebrated singer, “Elle a l’air d’un elephant qui aurait avale un rossignol.”  One can easily imagine the surprise and disillusion of the four pupils of Zimmermann—­mm.  Marmontel, Prudent, A. Petit, and Chollet—­who, provided with a letter of introduction by their master, called on Field soon after his arrival in Paris and beheld the great pianist—­

in a room filled with tobacco smoke, sitting in an easy chair, an enormous pipe in his mouth, surrounded by large and small bottles of all sorts [entoure de chopes et bouteilles de toutes provenances].  His rather large head, his highly- coloured cheeks, his heavy features gave a Falstaff-like appearance to his physiognomy.

Notwithstanding his tipsiness, he received the young gentlemen kindly, and played to them two studies by Cramer and Clementi “with rare perfection, admirable finish, marvellous agility, and exquisiteness of touch.”  Many anecdotes might be told of Field’s indolence and nonchalance; for instance, how he often fell asleep while giving his lessons, and on one occasion was asked whether he thought he was paid twenty roubles for allowing himself to be played to sleep; or, how, when his walking-stick had slipped out of his hand, he waited till some one came and picked it up; or, how, on finding his dress-boots rather tight, he put on slippers, and thus appeared in one of the first salons of Paris and was led by the mistress of the house, the Duchess Decazes, to the piano—­ but I have said enough of the artist who is so often named in connection with Chopin.