c periodicity, such as the dull imaginations
of ceremonious and tiresome circles have arranged, and which they
have never succeeded in realizing in accordance with their wishes, for
enjoyment, ease, enthusiasm, animation, never come at an hour fixed upon
before hand. They can be commanded less by artists than by other
men, for they are all more or less struck by some sacred malady whose
paralyzing torpor they must shake off, whose benumbing pain they must
forget, to be joyous and amused by those pyrotechnic fires which startle
the bewildered guests, who see from time to time a Roman candle, a
rose-colored Bengal light, a cascade whose waters are of fire, or a
terrible, yet quite innocent dragon! Gayety and the strength necessary
to be joyous, are, unfortunately things only accidentally to be
encountered among poets and artists! It is true some of the more
privileged among them have the happy gift of surmounting internal pain,
so as to bear their burden always lightly, able to laugh with their
companions over the toils of the way, or at least always able to
preserve a gentle and calm serenity which, like a mute pledge of hope
and consolation, animates, elevates, and encourages their associates,
imparting to them, while they remain under the influence of this placid
atmosphere, a freedom of spirit which appears so much the more vivid,
the more strongly it contrasts with their habitual ennui, their
abstraction, their natural gloom, their usual indifference.

Chopin did not belong to either of the above mentioned classes; he
possessed the innate grace of a Polish welcome, by which the host is not
only bound to fulfill the common laws and duties of hospitality, but is
obliged to relinquish all thought of himself, to devote all his powers
to promote the enjoyment of his guests. It was a pleasant thing to visit
him; his visitors were always charmed; he knew how to put them at once
at ease, making them masters of every thing, and placing every thing at
their disposal. In doing the honors of his own cabin, even the simple
laborer of Sclavic race never departs from this munificence; more
joyously eager in his welcome than the Arab in his tent, he compensates
for the splendor which may be wanting in his reception by an adage
which he never fails to repeat, and which is also repealed by the grand
seignior after the most luxurious repasts served under gilded canopies:
CZYM BOHAT, TYM RAD--which is thus paraphrased for foreigners: "De