Besides the thought of his unhappy country, a thought constantly kept alive by the Polish refugees with whom Paris was swarming, Chopin had another more prosaic but not less potent cause of disquietude and sadness.  His pecuniary circumstances were by no means brilliant.  Economy cannot fill a slender purse, still less can a badly-attended concert do so, and Chopin was loath to be a burden on his parents who, although in easy circumstances, were not wealthy, and whose income must have been considerably lessened by some of the consequences of the insurrection, such as the closing of schools, general scarcity of money, and so forth.  Nor was Paris in 1831, when people were so busy with politics, El Dorado for musicians.  Of the latter, Mendelssohn wrote at the time that they did not, like other people, wrangle about politics, but lamented over them.  “One has lost his place, another his title, and a third his money, and they say this all proceeds from the ‘juste milieu.’” As Chopin saw no prospect of success in Paris he began to think, like others of his countrymen, of going to America.  His parents, however, were against this project, and advised him either to stay where he was and wait for better things, or to return to Warsaw.  Although he might fear annoyances from the Russian government on account of his not renewing his passport before the expiration of the time for which it was granted, he chose the latter alternative.  Destiny, however, had decided the matter otherwise.[Footnote:  Karasowski says that Liszt, Hiller, and Sowinski dissuaded him from leaving Paris.  Liszt and Hiller both told me, and so did also Franchomme, that they knew nothing of Chopin having had any such intention; and Sowinski does not mention the circumstance in his Musiciens polonais.] One day, or, as some will have it, on the very day when he was preparing for his departure, Chopin met in the street Prince Valentine Radziwill, and, in the course of the conversation which the latter opened, informed him of his intention of leaving Paris.  The Prince, thinking, no doubt, of the responsibility he would incur by doing so, did not attempt to dissuade him, but engaged the artist to go with him in the evening to Rothschild’s.  Chopin, who of course was asked by the hostess to play something, charmed by his wonderful performance, and no doubt also by his refined manners, the brilliant company assembled there to such a degree that he carried off not only a plentiful harvest of praise and compliments, but also some offers of pupils.  Supposing the story to be true, we could easily believe that this soiree was the turning-point in Chopin’s career, but nevertheless might hesitate to assert that it changed his position “as if by enchantment.”  I said “supposing the story to be true,” because, although it has been reported that Chopin was fond of alluding to this incident, his best friends seem to know nothing of it:  Liszt does not mention it, Hiller and Franchomme told me they never heard of it, and notwithstanding Karasowski’s contrary statement there is nothing to be found about it in Sowinski’s Musiciens polonais.  Still, the story may have a substratum of truth, to arrive at which it has only to be shorn of its poetical accessories and exaggerations, of which, however, there is little in my version.