"The progress of the music suggests to our imagination such magnificent
groups as were designed by Paul Veronese, robed in the rich costume of
days long past; we see passing at intervals before us brocades of gold,
velvets, damasked satins, silvery, soft, and flexible sables, hanging
sleeves gracefully thrown back upon the shoulders, embossed sabers,
boots yellow as gold or red with trampled blood, sashes with long and
undulating fringes, close chemisettes, rustling trains, stomachers
embroidered with pearls, head-dresses glittering with rubies or leafy
with emeralds, light slippers rich in amber, gloves perfumed with the
luxurious attar of the harems."

The delicacy of Chopin's playing is traditional, but Liszt is authority
for the statement that Chopin was fond of hearing his larger and more
heroic works played with a power of which he himself was incapable. It
is related by some one that upon one occasion a very talented young
pianist called upon Chopin, and, being invited to play, did so, the
great polonaise in A-flat being the matter. Excited by the work and by
the presence of the author, and full of the heroic spirit of the music,
he broke several hammers--an occurrence quite common in heavy playing
in those days. Naturally, the young man was extremely mortified at
this, and endeavored to apologize over and over again. But the
composer cut him short. "Say not a word," said he; "if I had your
strength I would break every hammer in the piano when I played that
piece." This may be one of those "ben trovato" anecdotes which, if not
true, ought to be.

Both the polonaises upon the first program illustrate the breadth,
impassioned force, and vigor of Chopin's idea to a marked degree, as
well, perhaps, as anything he ever composed. The first, commonly known
as the "Military Polonaise," is one of those pompous pieces which
inevitably suggest some kind of great ceremonial. The movement begins
in stately march-like rhythmic swing, and goes on with interruptions of
brilliant effect, as if where the cannon and drums add their noisy
emphasis. The pomp resumes its march, but presently gives place to a
middle part--a trio. This, again, is in the key of D major, with a
great swinging melody like a trumpet, the military rhythm going on
uninterruptedly below. At length the original movement is resumed, and
presently comes the end. In all, it is a matter of pomp, brilliant
ceremony, stately march, like some national fe