Of course, a true artist's touch has besides its mechanical also its spiritual aspect. With regard to this it is impossible to overlook the personal element which pervaded and characterised Chopin's touch. M. Marmontel does not forget to note it in his "Pianistes Celebres." He writes:—

In the marvellous art of carrying and modulating the tone, in
the expressive, melancholy manner of shading it off, Chopin
was entirely himself. He had quite an individual way of
attacking the keyboard, a supple, mellow touch, sonorous
effects of a vaporous fluidity of which only he knew the
secret.

In connection with Chopin's production of tone, I must not omit to mention his felicitous utilisation of the loud and soft pedals. It was not till the time of Liszt, Thalberg, and Chopin that the pedals became a power in pianoforte-playing. Hummel did not understand their importance, and failed to take advantage of them. The few indications we find in Beethoven's works prove that this genius began to see some of the as yet latent possibilities. Of the virtuosi,

Moscheles was the first who made a more extensive and artistic use of the pedals, although also he employed them sparingly compared with his above-named younger contemporaries. Every pianist of note has, of course, his own style of pedalling. Unfortunately, there are no particulars forthcoming with regard to Chopin's peculiar style; and this is the more to be regretted as the composer was very careless in his notation of the pedals. Rubinstein declares that most of the pedal marks in Chopin's compositions are wrongly placed. If nothing more, we know at least thus much: "No pianist before him [Chopin] has employed the pedals alternately or simultaneously with so much tact and ability," and "in making constantly use of the pedal he obtained des harmonies ravissantes, des bruissements melodiques qui etonnaient et charmaient." [FOOTNOTE: Marmontel: "Les Pianistes celebres.">[

The poetical qualities of Chopin's playingare not so easily defined as the technical ones. Indeed, if they are definable at all they are so only by one who, like Liszt, is a poet as well as a great pianist. I shall, therefore, transcribe from his book some of the most important remarks bearing on this matter.

After saying that Chopin idealised the fugitive poesy inspired by fugitive apparitions like "La Fee aux Miettes," "Le Lutin d'Argail," &c., to such an extent as to render its fibres so thin and friable that they seemed no longer to belong to our nature, but to reveal to us the indiscreet confidences of the Undines, Titanias, Ariels, Queen Mabs, and Oberons, Liszt proceeds thus:—

When this kind of inspiration laid hold of Chopin his playing
assumed a distinctive character, whatever the kind of music he
executed might be—dance-music or dreamy music, mazurkas or
nocturnes, preludes or scherzos, waltzes or tarantellas,
studies or ballades. He imprinted on them all one knows not
what nameless colour, what vague appearance, what pulsations
akin to vibration, that had almost no longer anything material
about them, and, like the imponderables, seemed to act on
one's being without passing through the senses. Sometimes one
thought one heard the joyous tripping of some amorously-
teasing Peri; sometimes there were modulations velvety and
iridescent as the robe of a salamander; sometimes one heard
accents of deep despondency, as if souls in torment did not
find the loving prayers necessary for their final deliverance.
At other times there breathed forth from his fingers a despair
so mournful, so inconsolable, that one thought one saw Byron's
Jacopo Foscari come to life again, and contemplated the
extreme dejection of him who, dying of love for his country,
preferred death to exile, being unable to endure the pain of
leaving Venezia la bella!

It is interesting to compare this description with that of another poet, a poet who sent forth his poetry daintily dressed in verse as well as carelessly wrapped in prose. Liszt tells us that Chopin had in his imagination and talent something "qui, par la purete de sa diction, par ses accointances avec La Fee aux Miettes et Le Lutin d'Argail, par ses rencon-tres de Seraphine et de Diane, murmurant a son oreille leurs plus confidentielles plaintes, leurs reves les plus innommes," [FOOTNOTE: The allusions are to stories by Charles Nodier. According to Sainte-Beuve, "La Fee aux Miettes" was one of those stories in which the author was influenced by Hoffmann's creations.] reminded him of Nodier. Now, what thoughts did Chopin's playing call up in Heine?

Yes, one must admit that Chopin has genius in the full sense
of the word; he is not only a virtuoso, he is also a poet; he
can embody for us the poesy which lives within his soul, he is
a tone-poet, and nothing can be compared to the pleasure which
he gives us when he sits at the piano and improvises. He is
then neither a Pole, nor a Frenchman, nor a German, he reveals
then a higher origin, one perceives then that he comes from
the land of Mozart, Raphael, and Goethe, his true fatherland
is the dream-realm of poesy. When he sits at the piano and
improvises I feel as though a countryman from my beloved
native land were visiting me and telling me the most curious
things which have taken place there during my
absence...Sometimes I should like to interrupt him with
questions: And how is the beautiful little water-nymph who
knows how to fasten her silvery veil so coquettishly round her
green locks? Does the white-bearded sea-god still persecute
her with his foolish, stale love? Are the roses at home still
in their flame-hued pride? Do the trees still sing as
beautifully in the moonlight?

But to return to Liszt. A little farther on than the passage I quoted above he says:—