Frederic Chopin as a Man and Musician | Page 9

income. The Prince kept an
open table at which there rarely sat down less than from twenty to
thirty persons. [FOOTNOTE: Another authority informs us that on
great occasions the Czartoryskis received at their table more than
twenty thousand persons.] The same informant has much to say about
the elegance and luxury of the Polish nobility in their houses and villas,
in the decoration and furniture of which he found the French and
English styles happily blended. He gives a glowing account of the fetes
at which he was present, and says that they were exquisitely refined and
got up regardless of expense.
Whatever changes the national character of the Poles has undergone in
the course of time, certain traits of it have remained unaltered, and
among these stands forth predominantly their chivalry. Polish bravery
is so universally recognised and admired that it is unnecessary to
enlarge upon it. For who has not heard at least of the victorious battle
of Czotzim, of the delivery of Vienna, of the no less glorious defeats of
Maciejowice and Ostrolenka, and of the brilliant deeds of Napoleon's
Polish Legion? And are not the names of Poland's most popular heroes,
Sobieski and Kosciuszko, household words all the world over?
Moreover, the Poles have proved their chivalry not only by their valour
on the battle-field, but also by their devotion to the fair sex. At
banquets in the good olden time it was no uncommon occurrence to see
a Pole kneel down before his lady, take off one of her shoes, and drink
out of it. But the women of Poland seem to be endowed with a peculiar
power. Their beauty, grace, and bewitching manner inflame the heart
and imagination of all that set their eyes on them. How often have they
not conquered the conquerors of their country? [FOOTNOTE: The
Emperor Nicholas is credited with the saying: "Je pourrais en finir des
Polonais si je venais a bout des Polonaises."] They remind Heine of the
tenderest and loveliest flowers that grow on the banks of the Ganges,
and he calls for the brush of Raphael, the melodies of Mozart, the
language of Calderon, so that he may conjure up before his readers an
Aphrodite of the Vistula. Liszt, bolder than Heine, makes the attempt to
portray them, and writes like an inspired poet. No Pole can speak on
this subject without being transported into a transcendental rapture that
illumines his countenance with a blissful radiance, and inspires him
with a glowing eloquence which, he thinks, is nevertheless beggared by

the matchless reality.
The French of the North--for thus the Poles have been called--are of a
very excitable nature; easily moved to anger, and easily appeased; soon
warmed into boundless enthusiasm, and soon also manifesting lack of
perseverance. They feel happiest in the turmoil of life and in the bustle
of society. Retirement and the study of books are little to their taste.
Yet, knowing how to make the most of their limited stock of
knowledge, they acquit themselves well in conversation. Indeed, they
have a natural aptitude for the social arts which insures their success in
society, where they move with ease and elegance. Their oriental
mellifluousness, hyperbolism, and obsequious politeness of speech
have, as well as the Asiatic appearance of their features and dress, been
noticed by all travellers in Poland. Love of show is another very
striking trait in the character of the Poles. It struggles to manifest itself
among the poor, causes the curious mixture of splendour and
shabbiness among the better-situated people, and gives rise to the
greatest extravagances among the wealthy. If we may believe the
chroniclers and poets, the entertainments of the Polish magnates must
have often vied with the marvellous feasts of imperial Rome. Of the
vastness of the households with which these grands seigneurs
surrounded themselves, enough has already been said. Perhaps the chief
channel through which this love of show vented itself was the
decoration of man and horse. The entrance of Polish ambassadors with
their numerous suites has more than once astonished the Parisians, who
were certainly accustomed to exhibitions of this kind. The mere
description of some of them is enough to dazzle one--the superb horses
with their bridles and stirrups of massive silver, and their caparisons
and saddles embroidered with golden flowers; and the not less superb
men with their rich garments of satin or gold cloth, adorned with rare
furs, their bonnets surmounted by bright plumes, and their weapons of
artistic workmanship, the silver scabbards inlaid with rubies. We hear
also of ambassadors riding through towns on horses loosely shod with
gold or silver, so that the horse-shoes lost on their passage might testify
to their wealth and grandeur. I shall quote some lines from a Polish
poem in which the author