Paris in 1838, 1841, and 1846, partly for the purpose
of making arrangements for the publication of his compositions,
among which are Etudes dedicated to Chopin.] visited
Paris, he begged his countryman to bring him in contact
with Kalkbrenner, Liszt, and Pixis. Chopin, replying
that he need not put himself to the trouble of going
in search of these artists if he wished to make their
acquaintance, forthwith sat down at the piano and
assumed the attitude, imitated the style of playing,
and mimicked the mien and gestures, first of Liszt
and then of Pixis. Next evening Chopin and Nowakowski
went together to the theatre. The former having
left the box during one of the intervals, the latter
looked round after awhile and saw Pixis sitting beside
him. Nowakowski, thinking Chopin was at his favourite
game, clapped Pixis familiarly on the shoulder and
said: “Leave off, don’t imitate now!”
The surprise of Pixis and the subsequent confusion
of Nowakowski may be easily imagined. When Chopin,
who at this moment returned, had been made to understand
what had taken place, he laughed heartily, and with
the grace peculiar to him knew how to make his friend’s
and his own excuses. One thing in connection
with Chopin’s mimicry has to be particularly
noted--it is very characteristic of the man.
Chopin, we learn from Liszt, while subjecting his
features to all kinds of metamorphoses and imitating
even the ugly and grotesque, never lost his native
grace, “la grimace ne parvenait meme pas a l’enlaidir.”
We shall see presently what George Sand has to say
about her lover’s imitative talent; first, however,
we will make ourselves acquainted with the friends
with whom she especially associated. Besides
Pierre Leroux, Balzac, Pauline Viardot-Garcia, and
others who have already been mentioned in the foregoing
chapters, she numbered among her most intimate friends
the Republican politician and historian Louis Blanc,
the Republican litterateur Godefroy Cavaignac, the
historian Henri Martin, and the litterateur Louis
Viardot, the husband of Pauline Garcia.
[Footnote: This name reminds me of a passage
in Louis Blanc’s “Histoire de la Revolution
de 1840” (p.
210 of Fifth Edition. Paris,
1880). “A short time before his [Godefroy
Cavaignac’s] end, he was seized by an extraordinary
desire to hear music once more. I knew Chopin.
I offered to go to him, and to bring him with me,
if the doctor did not oppose it. The entreaties
thereupon took the character of a supplication.
With the consent, or rather at the urgent prayer,
of Madame Cavaignac, I betook myself to Chopin.
Madame George Sand was there. She expressed in
a touching manner the lively interest with which the
invalid inspired her; and Chopin placed himself at
my service with much readiness and grace. I conducted
him then into the chamber of the dying man, where
there was a bad piano. The great artist begins...Suddenly
he is interrupted by sobs. Godefroy, in a transport
of sensibility which gave him a moment’s physical
