'Chopin was born in Poland, near Warsaw, in the year 1810. His boyhood was marked by no events that gave promise of the greatness of his future career. He early became the victim of ill health, which was almost the perpetual torment of his after life. He grew up in simple and quiet habits, surrounded by the purest influences, conversant with bright examples of piety, modesty, and integrity, which gave to his imagination 'the velvety tenderness that characterizes the plants which have never been exposed to the dust of the beaten highways.' Commencing the study of music when he was but nine years old, he was soon after confided to a passionate disciple of Sebastian Bach, who for many years directed his studies in accordance with the prevailing classic models. Through the liberality of a distinguished patron of art, Prince Radziwill, he was placed in one of the first colleges in Warsaw, where he received a finished education in every branch of learning. The following picture, although partaking of the nature of a fancy piece, is introduced by Liszt, from the pen of one of the greatest living writers of fiction, as a just representation of the youthful artist at this period of his life. 'Gentle, sensitive, and very lovely, at fifteen years of age he united the charms of adolescence with the gravity of a more mature age. He was delicate both in body and in mind. Through the want of muscular development he retained a peculiar beauty, an exceptional physiognomy, which had, if we may venture so to speak, neither age nor sex. It was not the bold and masculine air of a descendant of a race of magnates, who know nothing but drinking, hunting, and making war; neither was it the effeminate loveliness of a cherub _couleur de rose_. It was more like the ideal creations with which the poetry of the Middle Ages adorned the Christian temples: a beautiful angel, with a form pure and slight as a young god of Olympus, with a face like that of a majestic woman filled with a divine sorrow, and as the crown of all, an expression at the same time tender and severe, chaste and impassioned. 'This expression revealed the depths of his being. Nothing could be purer, more exalted than his thoughts; nothing more tenacious, more exclusive, more intensely devoted, than his affections.... But he could only understand that which closely resembled himself.... Everything else only existed for him as a kind of annoying dream which he tried to shake off while living with the rest of the world. Always plunged in reveries, realities displeased him. As a child, he could never touch a sharp instrument without injuring himself with it; as a man, he never found himself face to face with a being different from himself without being wounded by the living contradiction....