SIR HENRY HADOW in his excellent study of Chopin describes the appearance of the boy Frédéric in these words: 'A little, frail, delicate elf of a boy, with fair hair and a prominent nose, the face redeemed from ugliness by the wonderful brown eyes and the quick intelligence of expression: a temperament which was keen, nervous and changeable, a character rapid and alert, bubbling over with effervescent spirits, playful, affectionate and sensitive. He was already an accomplished actor. and a born mimic, full of odd sayings and harmless mischief, clever and imaginative, utterly devoid of self-consciousness or affectation. 'Two letters, one in verse, written when he was six, the other in prose, at eight, will show the fertility of his imagination. They were little birthday remembrances to his father. When the world declares the festivity of your nameday, my Papa, it brings joy to me also, with these wishes; that you may live happily, may not know grievous cares, that God may always favour you with the fate you desire, these wishes I express for your sake.F. CHOPIN. 6 December, 1816. DEAR PAPA! I could express my feelings more easily if they could be put into notes of music, but as the very best concert would not cover my affection for you, dear Daddy, I must use the simple words of my heart, to lay before you my utmost gratitude and filial affection.F. CHOPIN. 6 December, 1818. Liszt writes that 'he was sickly and delicate, and the attention of his family was concentrated upon his health.... The little fellow was indeed seen to be suffering, but was always ?trying to smile, patient, and, to all seeming, happy.' I think that Liszt was misinformed. I cannot find any proof that Frédéric was 'sickly and delicate', nor that his family were concerned about his frailty. He probably was not particularly robust, but the reason for this may well have been that his mind was more active than his limbs-that he preferred to read or think or play his beloved instrument rather than indulge in the outdoor games and pranks of the average healthy boy. The absence of physical exercise and fresh air would doubtless help to dwarf his body, and give him a pale countenance; but, on the other hand, if he had given more time to his physical development, would he not have lost some of his exquisited sensibility? A body made up of sterner stuff might not have housed a mind of such delicacy.During the two years which elapsed between his first lessons with Elsner and his entering the Lycée, i.e. from the age of twelve to fourteen, Frédéric spent most of his time at his music. The careful parents had not thwarted this pleasant occupation, but neither had they given thought to the choice of music as his profession and livelihood. The boy was not old enough to worry about such mundane affairs; it was sufficient that he could devote his time to discovering new fields of thought, new avenues of progress. Certain technical difficulties he could not solve. He had no one to help him; he must rely on his own inventive brain. According to Karasowski he was impressed by the good effect of a chord with the dominant in the higher octave, but unable to play it with his small hand he endeavoured to produce the desired expansion by a mechanical contrivance of his own manufacture which he kept between his fingers even during the night'. It is well that he conceived such a dangerous apparatus at such a tender age. Had he waited, like Schumann, until manhood, he would most probably have injured himself also, although his invention showed much more common sense than that of Schumann. The reader can now see the birth of those elongated stretches which prevail everywhere in Chopin's music, particularly for the left hand. But we must not imagine that Chopin invented his contrivance so that he could write more awkwardly for the pianoforte, or that he wished for greater difficulties; his object?was to satisfy his ear. This method of writing extended chords, the use of stretched arpeggios, was his first experiment in pianoforte writing: it not only became his most striking characteristic, but is undeniably the bridge between classical and modern pianoforte technique.In 1824, at the age of fourteen, he was entered as a pupil at the Warsaw Lycée. Until then he had been taught at home with several boarders whom his father took to supplement his income. Frédéric was able to enter a fairly high class owing to the good grounding that his father gave to the boys. As we have seen, he was intelligent and had great application, and at first was very successful in his classes, winning many prizes. Later on his lessons grew more irksome; his thoughts inclined towards his music, and the concentration necessary to pass his final examination could not be mustered. He wrote in June 1826 to Jan Bialoblocki: "That I can't write very often counts for nothing; you know that I am swatting for a diploma, but that sausage isn't for this dog: we hear a good deal about oneyear students.' Opienski, the collector of the letters, adds a note saying that "Chopin was one of the "one-year students" for whom the normal two years in Class 6 was reduced to one. He did not, however, take the examination but went to Reinertz for his health, before the date.'The early promise of brilliance as a student was not fulfilled. Maybe the parents were as much to blame, if blame there be, as the boy himself, for they had realized before his final school year, 1827, that nothing could prevent him from becuming a musician. They were both fond of music; in fact, they belonged to that minority which is not only interested in the arts but definitely shows a preference for those gifted people who are able to express the beautiful and the sensitive in life. How fortunate are such people; how much of the true joy of living do their opposites miss! The parents knew that Frédéric could never be a scholar; any other profession was out of the question; Warsaw was in too perilous a state and too much in the hands of the Russians and the Jews to promise a business career, andd the boy was not physically able to do manual work. Besides, what right had they, or have any parents, to ignore a talent so obvious and so absorbing as that of their son? And so the?boy was excused from too much attention to his lessons, and his music encouraged.A story of an event which happened in the school-days before Frédéric entered the Lycée is told by Karasowski in his book. Though the author was a friend of the Chopin family and the story was told him by Count Casimir Wodzinski, who was a fellow-boarder, it has about it that ring of incredibility that, unfortunately, surrounds many of the Chopin legends. On a certain day, the assistant master, Barcinski, entered the room to find it in a turmoil. Nicolas Chopin was out, and the boys had decided to be unruly. Barcinski was powerless. Frédéric heard the noise, quietly entered the room and asked his fellow-pupils to sit down. He promised to tell them a story and play to them on the pianoforte if they would promise to be quiet. At once they agreed, and Frédéric put out all the lights. His story was about some robbers who were approaching a house with the purpose of plundering it. They had brought ladders with them to reach the high windows, but just when everything was ready a noise from within frightened them, and away they ran. They were so terrified that they did not stop until they reached a wood where they hoped the thick branches would hide them. The darkness and quiet of the woods made them drowsy, and ere long they were all fast asleep. During the story Frédéric had been playing the pianoforte. When the robbers reached the forest his playing grew softer and softer until in the end it had apparently gone to sleep also. The boys had been bewitched into sleep by the quietness of his playing. Frédéric then crept out of the room. He told the family of his achievement, and made all of them return with him to see for themselves, carrying their own candles. When they had all entered he sat at the pianoforte, and pounded out a crashing chord which thoroughly waked the slumberers with a start. The moment after, all was laughter, and peace was restored in the class-room. This far-fetched anecdote has even been the subject of a picture.Franz Liszt makes another doubtful statement in his freelydrawn picture of Chopin. He maintains that the boy's studies at the Lycée were paid for by Prince Radziwill. There are many reasons for disputing this assertion. Nicolas was not so?poor that he could not send his only son to the high school; and the family categorically denied any protection offered by the Prince, or even any help given. If the Prince thought so highly of the boy's musical talent, why did he pay for his schooling and not make any offer towards his trips to Vienna, which were a distinct drain on the father's pocket? Again, Chopin was always punctilious in his gratitude and thanks for any help or kindness, but there is no record of any letter or other appreciative sign to Prince Radziwill.Karasowski is adamant about the inaccuracy of this concoction of Liszt, and bemoans the fact that it has been repeated over and over again, even by Polish authors. To understand this attitude a little more clearly the reader must recognize that Liszt always insisted that the Chopins were very poor, even perhaps to the peasant level, and Karasowski makes them out to be of almost noble birth. A few passages about this supposed benevolence may be quoted in Liszt's own words: 'Through the generous and discriminating protection which was always accorded by Prince Antoine Radziwill to the arts and to genius, which he had the faculty of recognizing both as an intellectual man and a distinguished artist, Chopin was early placed at one of the leading colleges in Warsaw.... By thus assisting the limited means of the Chopin family, the Prince bestowed upon Frédéric the inestimable gift of a complete education of which no single department was neglected.... The Prince regularly paid Chopin's pension from his first entrance into the college until his studies were completed.' This certainly bears the stamp of conclusiveness, but it is by no means bulletproof. The Prince was a patron of the arts, for, besides being a very rich man and one of the most influential men in Poland, he had great aspirations as a composer himself. He was a fair tenor singer, an able violoncellist, maintained a string quartet for regular performances of the best music, often being the cellist himsel, and undoubtedly befriended musicians generally, through the musical parties and soirées he gave at his various houses. He was related to the Emperor Frederick William II of Prussia by marriage, and was Governor of the newly formed Grand Duchy of Posen, which had just been created by the Prussian Government. He was therefore a man of?importance in Berlin, and knew and entertained the leading artists and musicians of the day. Liszt, with his usual flamboyancy, describes a work of Prince Radziwill, a setting he made to the first part of Goethe's Faust, as being 'far superior to any other attempts which have been made to transport it into the sphere of music'. We can be quite certain that such a man would recognize young Chopin's genius, but we cannot be so easily convinced that this recognition meant being his benefactor. Nicolas Chopin was a man of pride, and would not have accepted outside help for his children's education unless he was forced to do so; and this was never necessary. Frédéric inherited this pride, as we shall see during his development as a man and as an artist, and could not have forgotten such liberality; yet the only evidence we have of any recognition of this supposed inestimable help was the dedication of his Trio for Pianoforte, Violin, and Violoncello, Op. 8, which he started in 1828 and finished the following year. We shall notice that Chopin paid a visit to the country home of the Prince during the autumn of 1829; most probably they played some chambermusic together, and as a thank-offering Chopin inscribed the Prince's name on the title-page of the Trio. If this was a token of gratitude to a benefactor, it is hardly likely that the benefactor would, as the Prince did, have sent the protégé a present. Another reason for discrediting Liszt's assertion is his mention of "the gift of a complete education'. Chopin did not have a "complete' education. He left the Lycée at seventeen, and only just passed his final examination. He did not wish to persevere with his studies, nor had he devoted much time to them during the latter half of his schooling. His music was too absorbing.But is not all this to the good? We only want him to develop as a musician, and we are not disappointed. Perhaps an over-developed mind might have altered his outlook, might have driven him away from his love for the simple national tunes and rhythms of his country, which are the backbone of his inspirations. He became one of the greatest figures in the art that he adored: if he had become only a scholar, his name would probably have been forgotten with his death and his place taken by an equal or a better. His name has been invincible ever since and will continue to be so. The superior??education of a University is a colossal asset, but it rarely has anything to do with the making of a musician. It may develop an ?sthetic taste, but it cannot develop sensitiveness, nor produce deep emotion, nor create rhythms, nor inspire melodies. These are divine gifts which the possessor must work out for himself and which are so enveloping as to preclude the invasion of their intimacy by any deterring factor. The boy Frédéric had one other great gift-he could have become a great actor. He was an irrepressible mimic and could alter his appearance in an almost unbelievable manner. He had besides a fine gift of caricature, which was apt to get him into trouble on occasions. Once at the Lycée he caricatured the Director, Dr. Samuel Linde. This Dr. Linde was a friend of the Chopins, and a frequent guest at their house, so probably took a lenient view of the student's joke. He evidently appreciated the drawing, for, instead of punishing the artist, which he had full reason for doing, in as much as the fellow-students were uproariously amused by their colleague's effort, he returned it with written words of praise. Frédéric never lost his talent for acting. He often acted in playlets written in conjunction with one or more of his sisters and received high compliments on his abilities. Later on, in his Paris days, we read of the admiration of many of his illustriousd friends for his inimitable gift for quickly changing his facial expression. As these friends included people like Balzac, Heine, Liszt and George Sand we can feel a security about the value of their criticisms. There is a recorded instance of his gift of mimicry. A certain German pastor of an Evangelical church in Warsaw was wont to deliver his sermons in Polish and German on alternate Sundays, owing to the mixture of nationalities in his congregation. His Polish approached the grotesque, and Frédéric, hearing of this, secretly went to a service. He was not disappointed, but he thought that his family should share his huge enjoyment, and so conceived a practical demonstration. He built up an imitation pulpit, set up the chairs, dressed himself up to appear like an old German, and proceeded to deliver a sermon in this jargon of broken Polish. The joke succeeded, his parents and sisters nearly choking with laughter at his absurd skit. He was always playing pranks upon his?family or his friends,but sometimes he was rude enough to attempt them with strangers, particularly Jews, from whom he always had a distinct aversion. In the summer of 1824 he went for his holidays to Szafarnia, Mazowia (the province in which he was born), to the home of the parents of one of his friends, Dominic Dziewanowski. It was during this happy visit that the first issue of the Szafarski Courier appeared. Earlier in the year, Frédéric and Emilia founded a Literary Amusement Journal' for the especial benefit of the school-boarders. The pleasure of editing this stimulated him to attempt something bigger, so, instead of writing letters to his parents, copies of the Courier were sent, written in the local dialect. The editor calls himself 'Mr. Pichon', an anagram of Chopin. The paper had a censorthe daughter of the house. The news-items are chiefly jokes and gibes, and clearly illustrate the humorous trend of the young musician's mind. Sarcasm is there, and sneers at the musical tastes and abilities of various people. A few excerpts of the news-items will show the different aspects of his humour:

August 16, 1824. On August 11, Frédéric Chopin Esquire went for a ride on a charger, He ran several races, but each time failed to get past Madame Dziewanowska, who was going on foot, (but that was the horse's fault, not his). He won a victory, however, over Miss Ludvika, who had got fairly near the goal. Chopin Esquire goes out for a drive but with such honours that he always sits with his back to the horses...?

On August 13 Better Esq. played on the piano with uncommon talent. This virtuoso, a native of Berlin, played like Berger, the Skolimov piano-player; in skill and in his manners of holding his fingers he excels Miss Laguska, and he plays with such feeling, that almost every note seems to come not from his heart, but from his powerful belly.

This is intended as a gibe at the bodily contortions of most of the players of Chopin's young days. He could not bear these ridiculous and unnecessary movements, and even as a famous man in Paris would amuse his friends by 'taking-off' these absurd people.

M. Pichon was usually entertaining about the farm stock:On August 12 a hen went lame, and a drake, fighting with a goose, lost a leg. A cow got so ill that it is grazing in the garden.... On August 14 a decree went forth that, on pain of death, no pig should dare to enter the garden.... In a neighbouring village a fox ate two defenceless ganders. If anyone catches him let him inform the local Law Court which will undoubtedly punish the animal according to law.The melancholy gobbler, the turkey's brother, got rotten fever from grief and lies without hope of life....A drake, stealing out of the poultry yard very early one morning, drowned itself. Up to the present the reason of this suicide cannot be determined, as the family of the suicide won't say a word.... At Radomin on the 2gth a cat went mad. Fortunately it did not bite anyone, but ran and jumped in the field, and that only till it was killed, for after it was killed it stopped and didn't play the fool any more.A more personal note is struck by the following:On the Ist of September, 1824, Pichon Esq. was playing the Village Jew Merchant on the piano, when Mr. Dziewanowski called the village Jew milkman and asked him for his opinion of the Yiddish Virtuoso. Mose came up to the window, poked his humpy, lofty nose into the room, and listened, saying that if Pichon Esq. would consent to play at a Yiddish wedding, he would earn at least two thalers (about eighteenpence) This pronouncement encouraged Pichon Esq. to study that kind of music, as much as possible, and, who knows, perhaps he may devote himself altogether to such profitable harmony.Also concerning Jews are the following two items:A Jew milkman at Rodzona was letting his calf feed in the Manor cornfield. It went off all right several times, but on the night of the 24th a wolf came and ate the beast. The lord of the manor is glad that the Jew was paid this way for his nefarious conduct, but the old Jew is mad with the wolf. He is offering the whole calf to anyone to deliver the culprit to him. -On the 2gth August a cart full of Jews was driving along. Die ganze Familie consisted of an old sow, three big Jews, two little?Jews, and six head of Jew children. The whole lot were sittingd in a heap, like Dutch herrings. Then a stone in their way upset them, the cart was over-turned and they lay on the sand in the following order: First of all the kids, each one in a different position, most of them with their thin legs in the air, and, on them, the old sow, groaning under a load of Jews, who in their flight and with the impetus of their fall, lost their black skull caps.Whilst at Szafarnia Frédéric wrote a witty letter to one of his schoolboy friends, Wilhelm Kolberg. His heart was ever warm for his friends and his letters are mostly very affectionate. One cannot say that he was a master letter-writer, although he could be entertaining. Unfortunately most of his letters were destroyed by a fire at his sister's house in Warsaw in 1863, but nearly all those that are available have been collected by Henry Opienski, and published by Desmond Harmsworth, Ltd., 1932. This youthful letter has no literary value, but its childish simplicity makes amusing reading.SZAFARNIA, 19 August, 1824.DEAR WILUS,Thanks for remembering me; but on the other hand I am annoyed with you, that you are such a mean and horrid etcetera and only write such a scrap to me. Were you short of paper and pens, or did you grudge the ink? Perhaps you had no time to do more than put in a scrawl? Eh, eh, that's it; you go horseback riding, enjoying yourself, and forget about me-. Well, well; give me a kiss and I'll forgive you. I'm glad you're well and jolly, because that's what is wanted in the country. I'm so glad I can write to you! Also am enjoying myself; and you're not the only one that rides, for I can stick on too. Don'task how well; but I can, enough for the horse to go slowly whenever he prefers, while I sit fearfully on his back; like a monkey on a bear. Till now I haven't had any falls because the horse hasn't thrown me off; but-ifever he should want me to tumble off, I may do it some day.I won't bother you with my affairs, because I know they won't interest you. The flies often alight on my lofty nose, but that's unimportant, because it's rather a custom of these importunate beasties. The gnats bite me; but that doesn't matter, because it's not on the nose. I run about the garden and sometimes walk. I walk in the woods, and sometimes ride, not on horseback but in a carriage, or trap, or coach; but with such honour that I always sit at the back, never in front. Perhaps l've bored you already, but what can I do? If not, then write by the first post, and I will continue my epistles at once.I end my letter therefore without compliments, but amicably. Keep well, dear Wilus, and please do write to me. We shall meet in four weeks. I embrace you heartily. Your sincere friend,F. CHOPIN.