Shortly after the concert at the Theatre-Italien, Chopin ventured once more to face that terrible monster, the public.  On Sunday, April 26, 1835, he played at a benefit concert of Habeneck’s, which is notable as the only concert of the Societe des Concerts du Conservatoire in which he took part.  The programme was as follows:—­1.  The “Pastoral Symphony,” by Beethoven; 2.  “The Erl-King,” by Schubert, sung by M. Ad.  Nourrit; 3.  Scherzo from the “Choral Symphony,” by Beethoven; 4.  “Polonaise avec introduction” [i.e., “Polonaise brillante precedee d’un Andante spianato"], composed and played by M. Chopin; 5.  Scena, by Beethoven, sung by Mdlle.  Falcon; 6.  Finale from the C minor Symphony, by Beethoven.  The writer of the article Chopin in Larousse’s “Grand Dictionnaire” says that Chopin had no reason to repent of having taken part in the concert, and others confirm this statement.  In Elwart’s “Histoire des Concerts du Conservatoire” we read:—­“Le compositeur reveur, l’elegiaque pianiste, produisit a ce concert un effet delicieux.”  To the author of the “Histoire dramatique en France” and late curator of the Musee du Conservatoire I am indebted for some precious communications.  M. Gustave Chouquet, who at the time we are speaking of was a youth and still at the College, informed me in a charming letter that he was present at this concert at which Chopin played, and also at the preceding one (on Good Friday) at which Liszt played Weber’s “Concertstuck,” and that he remembered very well “the fiery playing of Liszt and the ineffable poetry of Chopin’s style.”  In another letter M. Chouquet gave a striking resume of the vivid reminiscences of his first impressions:—­

Liszt, in 1835 [he wrote], represented a merveilleux the prototype of the virtuoso; while in my opinion Chopin personified the poet.  The first aimed at effect and posed as the Paganini of the piano; Chopin, on the other hand, seemed never to concern himself [se preuccuper] about the public, and to listen only to the inner voices.  He was unequal; but when inspiration took hold of him [s’emparait de hit] he made the keyboard sing in an ineffable manner.  I owe him some poetic hours which I shall never forget.

One of the facts safely deducible from the often doubtful and contradictory testimonies relative to Chopin’s public performances is, that when he appeared before a large and mixed audience he failed to call forth general enthusiasm.  He who wishes to carry the multitude away with him must have in him a force akin to the broad sweep of a full river.  Chopin, however, was not a Demosthenes, Cicero, Mirabeau, or Pitt.  Unless he addressed himself to select conventicles of sympathetic minds, the best of his subtle art remained uncomprehended.  How well Chopin knew this may be gathered from what he said to Liszt:—­