Yesterday Chopin was here and played an hour on my piano—­a fantasia and new etude of his—­interesting man and still more interesting playing; he moved me strangely.  The over- excitement of his fantastic manner is imparted to the keen- eared; it made me hold my breath.  Wonderful is the ease with which his velvet fingers glide, I might almost say fly, over the keys.  He has enraptured me—­I cannot deny it—­in a way which hitherto had been unknown to me.  What delighted me was the childlike, natural manner which he showed in his demeanour and in his playing.

After this short break of his journey at Leipzig, which he did not leave without placing a wreath of flowers on the monument of Prince Joseph Poniatowski, who in 1812 met here with an early death, being drowned in the river Elster, Chopin proceeded on his homeward journey, that is toward Paris, probably tarrying again for a day or two at Heidelberg.

The non-artistic events of this period are of a more stirring nature than the artistic ones.  First in time and importance comes Chopin’s meeting with George Sand, which more than any other event marks an epoch in the composer’s life.  But as this subject has to be discussed fully and at some length we shall leave it for another chapter, and conclude this with an account of some other matters.

Mendelssohn, who arrived in London on August 24, 1837, wrote on September 1 to Hiller:—­

Chopin is said to have suddenly turned up here a fortnight ago; but he visited nobody and made no acquaintances.  He played one evening most beautifully at Broadwood’s, and then hurried away again.  I hear he is still suffering very much.

Chopin accompanied by Camille Pleyel and Stanislas Kozmian, the elder, came to London on the 11th of July and stayed till the 22nd.  Pleyel introduced him under the name of M. Fritz to his friend James Broadwood, who invited them to dine with him at his house in Bryanston Square.  The incognito, however, could only be preserved as long as Chopin kept his hands off the piano.  When after dinner he sat down to play, the ladies of the family suspected, and, suspicion being aroused, soon extracted a confession of the truth.

Moscheles in alluding in his diary to this visit to London adds an item or two to its history:—­

Chopin, who passed a few days in London, was the only one of the foreign artists who visited nobody and also did not wish to be visited, as every conversation aggravates his chest- complaint.  He went to some concerts and disappeared.

Particularly interesting are the reminiscences of the writer of an enthusiastic review [Footnote:  Probably J. W. Davison.]of some of Chopin’s nocturnes and a scherzo in the “Musical World” of February 23, 1838:—­