us We believe, however, if we may be permitted to say it, that
his concerts were less fatiguing to his physical constitution, than to
his artistic susceptibility. We think that his voluntary abnegation of
popular applause veiled an internal wound. He was perfectly aware of his
own superiority; perhaps it did not receive sufficient reverberation
and echo from without to give him the tranquil assurance that he was
perfectly appreciated. No doubt, in the absence of popular acclamation,
he asked himself how far a chosen audience, through the enthusiasm
of its applause, was able to replace the great public which he
relinquished. Few understood him:--did those few indeed understand him
aright? A gnawing feeling of discontent, of which he himself scarcely
comprehended the cause, secretly undermined him. We have seen him
almost shocked by eulogy. The praise to which he was justly entitled not
reaching him EN MASSE, he looked upon isolated commendation as almost
wounding. That he felt himself not only slightly, but badly applauded,
was sufficiently evident by the polished phrases with which, like
troublesome dust, he shook such praises off, making it quite evident
that he preferred to be left undisturbed in the enjoyment of his
solitary feelings to injudicious commendation.

Too fine a connoisseur in raillery, too ingenious satirist ever to
expose himself to sarcasm, he never assumed the role of a "genius
misunderstood." With a good grace and under an apparent satisfaction, he
concealed so entirely the wound given to his just pride, that its very
existence was scarcely suspected. But not without reason, might the
gradually increasing rarity [Footnote: Sometimes he passed years without
giving a single concert. We believe the one given by him in Pleyel's
room, in 1844, was after an interval of nearly ten years] of his
concerts be attributed rather to the wish he felt to avoid occasions
which did not bring him the tribute he merited, than to physical
debility. Indeed, he put his strength to rude proofs in the many lessons
which he always gave, and the many hours he spent at his own Piano.

It is to be regretted that the indubitable advantage for the artist
resulting from the cultivation of only a select audience, should be so
sensibly diminished by the rare and cold expression of its sympathies.
The GLACE which covers the grace of the ELITE, as it does the fruit of
their desserts; the imperturbable calm of their most earnest enthus