ad already, in 1843-4, to be carried
upstairs, when he visited her mother, who in that year was staying with
her children in Paris; to walk upstairs, even with assistance, would
have been impossible to him.

For a long time [writes M. Charles Gavard] Chopin had been,
moving about with difficulty, and only went out to have
himself carried to a few faithful friends. He visited them by
no means in order that they might share his misery, on the
contrary, he seemed even to forget his troubles, and at sight
of the family life, and in the midst of the demonstrations of
love which he called forth from everyone, he found new impulse
and new strength to live.

[FOOTNOTE: In a manuscript now before me, containing
reminiscences of the last months of Chopin's life. Karasowski,
at whose disposal the author placed his manuscript, copies
LITERALY, in the twelfth chapter of his Chopin biography, page
after page, without the customary quotation marks.]

Edouard Wolff told me that, in the latter part of Chopin's life, he
did not leave the carriage when he had any business at Schlesinger's
music-shop; a shopman came out to the composer, who kept himself closely
wrapped in his blue mantle. The following reminiscence is, like some of
the preceding ones, somewhat vague with regard to time. Stephen Heller
met Chopin shortly before the latter fell ill. On being asked where he
was going, Chopin replied that he was on his way to buy a new carpet,
his old one having got worn, and then he complained of his legs
beginning to swell. And Stephen Heller saw indeed that there were lumps
of swelling. M. Mathias, describing to me his master as he saw him in
1847, wrote: "It was a painful spectacle to see Chopin at that time;
he was the picture of exhaustion--the back bent, the head bowed
forward--but always amiable and full of distinction." That Chopin was
no longer in a condition to compose (he published nothing after October,
1847), and that playing in public was torture to him and an effort
beyond his strength, we have already seen. But this was not all the
misery; he was also unable to teach. Thus all his sources of income were
cut off. From Chopin's pupil Madame Rubio (nee Vera de Kologrivof) I
learned that latterly when her master was ill and could not give many
lessons, he sent to her several of his pupils, among whom was also Miss
Stirling, who then came to him only once a week instead of oftener. But
after his return