Pazdziernika”—­printed a picture of the composer at the age of seventeen.  It is that of a thoughtful, poetic, but not handsome lad, his hair waving over a fine forehead, a feminine mouth, large, aquiline nose, the nostrils delicately cut, and about his slender neck a Byronic collar.  Altogether a novel likeness.  Like the Chopin interpretation, a satisfactory Chopin portrait is extremely rare.

As some difficulty was experienced in discovering the identity of Countess Delphine Potocka, I applied in 1899 to Mr. Jaraslow de Zielinski, a pianist of Buffalo, New York, for assistance; he is an authority on Polish and Russian music and musicians.  Here are the facts he kindly transmitted:  “In 1830 three beautiful Polish women came to Nice to pass the winter.  They were the daughters of Count Komar, the business manager of the wealthy Count Potocki.  They were singularly accomplished; they spoke half the languages of Europe, drew well, and sang to perfection.  All they needed was money to make them queens of society; this they soon obtained, and with it high rank.  Their graceful manners and loveliness won the hearts of three of the greatest of noblemen.  Marie married the Prince de Beauvau-Craon; Delphine became Countess Potocka, and Nathalie, Marchioness Medici Spada.  The last named died young, a victim to the zeal in favor of the cholera-stricken of Rome.  The other two sisters went to live in Paris, and became famous for their brilliant elegance.  Their sumptuous ‘hotels’ or palaces were thrown open to the most prominent men of genius of their time, and hither came Chopin, to meet not only with the homage due to his genius, but with a tender and sisterly friendship, which proved one of the greatest consolations of his life.  To the amiable Princess de Beauvau he dedicated his famous Polonaise in F sharp minor, op. 44, written in the brilliant bravura style for pianists of the first force.  To Delphine, Countess Potocka, he dedicated the loveliest of his valses, op. 64, No. 1, so well transcribed by Joseffy into a study in thirds.”

Therefore the picture of the Grafin Potocka in the Berlin gallery is not that of Chopin’s devoted friend.

Here is another Count Tarnowski story.  It touches on a Potocka episode.  “Chopin liked and knew how to express individual characteristics on the piano.  Just as there formerly was a rather widely-known fashion of describing dispositions and characters in so-called ‘portraits,’ which gave to ready wits a scope for parading their knowledge of people and their sharpness of observation; so he often amused himself by playing such musical portraits.  Without saying whom he had in his thoughts, he illustrated the characters of a few or of several people present in the room, and illustrated them so clearly and so delicately that the listeners could always guess correctly who was intended, and admired the resemblance of the portrait.  One little anecdote is related in connection with this which throws some light on his wit, and a little pinch of sarcasm in it.