about authors and their manuscripts.  When they were ready to leave Osborne called the waiter, but instead of asking for la note a payer, he said “Garcon, apportez-moi votre manuscrit.”  This sally of the mercurial Irishman was received with hearty laughter, Chopin especially being much tickled by the profanation of the word so sacred to authors.  From the same source we learn also that Chopin took delight in repeating the criticisms on his performances which he at one time or other had chanced to overhear.

Not the least interesting and significant incident in Chopin’s life was his first meeting and early connection with Kalkbrenner, who at that time—­when Liszt and Thalberg had not yet taken possession of the commanding positions they afterwards occupied—­enjoyed the most brilliant reputation of all the pianists then living.  On December 16, 1831, Chopin writes to his friend Woyciechowski:—­

You may easily imagine how curious I was to hear Herz and Hiller play; they are ciphers compared with Kalkbrenner.  Honestly speaking, I play as well as Herz, but I wish I could play as well as Kalkbrenner.  If Paganini is perfect, so also is he, but in quite another way.  His repose, his enchanting touch, the smoothness of his playing, I cannot describe to you, one recognises the master in every note—­he is a giant who throws all other artists into the shade.  When I visited him, he begged me to play him something.  What was I to do?  As I had heard Herz, I took courage, seated myself at the instrument, and played my E minor Concerto, which charmed the people of the Bavarian capital so much.  Kalkbrenner was astonished, and asked me if I were a pupil of Field’s.  He remarked that I had the style of Cramer, but the touch of Field.  It amused me that Kalkbrenner, when he played to me, made a mistake and did not know how to go on; but it was wonderful to hear how he found his way again.  Since this meeting we see each other daily, either he calls on me or I on him.  He proposed to teach me for three years and make a great artist of me.  I told him that I knew very well what I still lacked; but I will not imitate him, and three years are too much for me.  He has convinced me that I play well only when I am in the right mood for it, but less well when this is not the case.  This cannot be said of Kalkbrenner, his playing is always the same.  When he had watched me for a long time, he came to the conclusion that I had no method; that I was indeed on a very good path, but might easily go astray; and that when he ceased to play, there would no longer be a representative of the grand pianoforte school left.  I cannot create a new school, however much I may wish to do so, because I do not even know the old one; but I know that my tone-poems have some individuality in them, and that I always strive to advance.

If you were here, you would say “Learn, young man, as long as you have an opportunity to do so!” But many dissuade me from taking