has the modesty to be proud; as he
was a pure, generous, good and compassionate man, filled with a single
sentiment, and that one of the most noble of feelings, the love of
country; as he moved among us like a spirit consecrated by all that
Poland possesses of poetry; let us approach his sacred grave with due
reverence! Let us adorn it with no artificial wreaths! Let us cast upon
it no trivial crowns! Let us nobly elevate our thoughts before this
consecrated shroud! Let us learn from him to repulse all but the highest
ambition, let us try to concentrate our labor upon efforts which will
leave more lasting effects than the vain leading of the fashions of the
passing hour. Let us renounce the corrupt spirit of the times in which
we live, with all that is not worthy of art, all that will not endure,
all that does not contain in itself some spark of that eternal and
immaterial beauty, which it is the task of art to reveal and unveil as
the condition of its own glory! Let us remember the ancient prayer of
the Dorians whose simple formula is so full of pious poetry, asking only
of their gods: "To give them the Good, in return for the Beautiful!"
In place of laboring so constantly to attract auditors, and striving to
please them at whatever sacrifice, let us rather aim, like Chopin, to
leave a celestial and immortal echo of what we have felt, loved,
and suffered! Let us learn, from his revered memory, to demand from
ourselves works which will entitle us to some true rank in the sacred
city of art! Let us not exact from the present with out regard to the
future, those light and vain wreath which are scarcely woven before they
are faded and forgotten!...

In place of such crowns, the most glorious palms which it is possible
for an artist to receive during his lifetime, have been placed in the
hands of Chopin by ILLUSTRIOUS EQUALS. An enthusiastic admiration was
given him by a public still more limited than the musical aristocracy
which frequented his concerts. This public was formed of the most
distinguished names of men, who bowed before him as the kings of
different empires bend before a monarch whom they have assembled to
honor. Such men rendered to him, individually, due homage. How could it
have been otherwise in France, where the hospitality, so truly national,
discerns with such perfect taste the rank and claims of the guests?

The most eminent minds in Paris frequently met in Chopin's saloon. Not
in reunions of fantasti