tage, he abruptly asks the question: "And what shall
I do now?" and answers forthwith: "I will leave next month; first,
however, I must rehearse my Concerto, for the Rondo is now finished."
But this resolve is a mere flash of energy, and before we have proceeded
far we shall come on words which contrast strangely with what we have
read just now. Chopin has been talking about his going abroad ever
so long, more especially since his return from Vienna, and will go on
talking about it for a long time yet. First he intends to leave Warsaw
in the winter of 1829-1830; next he makes up his mind to start in the
summer of 1830, the question being only whether he shall go to Berlin or
Vienna; then in May, 1830, Berlin is already given up, but the time of
his departure remains still to be fixed. After this he is induced by
the consideration that the Italian Opera season at Vienna does not begin
till September to stay at home during the hot summer months. How he
continues to put off the evil day of parting from home and friends we
shall see as we go on. I called Chopin's vigorously-expressed resolve a
flash of energy. Here is what he wrote not much more than a week after
(on August 31, 1830):--

I am still here; indeed, I do not feel inclined to go abroad.
Next month, however, I shall certainly go. Of course, only to
follow my vocation and reason, which latter would be in a
sorry plight if it were not strong enough to master every
other thing in my head.

But that his reason was in a sorry plight may be gathered from a letter
dated September 4, 1830, which, moreover, is noteworthy, as in the
confessions which it contains are discoverable the key-notes of the
principal parts that make up the symphony of his character.

I tell you my ideas become madder and madder every day. I am
still sitting here, and cannot make up my mind to fix
definitively the day of my departure. I have always a
presentiment that I shall leave Warsaw never to return to it;
I am convinced that I shall say farewell to my home for ever.
Oh, how sad it must be to die in any other place but where
one was born! What a great trial it would be to me to see
beside my death-bed an unconcerned physician and paid servant
instead of the dear faces of my relatives! Believe me, Titus,
I many a time should like to go to you and seek rest for my
oppressed heart; but as this is not possible, I often hurry,
without knowing w