ions of the first
subject, the whole second subject (in B major), and the closing period,
which is prolonged by a coda to make the close more emphatic and
satisfying. A light and graceful quaver figure winds with now rippling,
now waving motion through the first and third sections of the scherzo;
in the contrasting second section, with the sustained accompaniment
and the melody in one of the middle parts, the entrance of the bright
A major, after the gloom of the preceding bars, is very effective. The
third movement has the character of a nocturne, and as such cannot fail
to be admired. In the visionary dreaming of the long middle section we
imagine the composer with dilated eyes and rapture in his look--it is
rather a reverie than a composition. The finale surrounds us with an
emotional atmosphere somewhat akin to that of the first movement,
but more agitated. After eight bold introductory bars with piercing
dissonances begins the first subject, which, with its rhythmically
differently-accompanied repetition, is the most important constituent
of the movement. The rest, although finely polished, is somewhat
insignificant. In short, this is the old story, plus de volonte que
d'inspiration, that is to say, inspiration of the right sort. And also,
plus de volonte que de savoir-faire.

There is one work of Chopin's to which Liszt's dictum, plus de volnte
que d'inspiratio, applies in all, and even more than all its force.
I allude to the Sonata (in G minor) for piano and violoncello, Op.
65 (published in September, 1847), in which hardly anything else but
effort, painful effort, manifests itself. The first and last movements
are immense wildernesses with only here and there a small flower. The
middle movements, a Scherzo and an Andante, do not rise to the dignity
of a sonata, and, moreover, lack distinction, especially the slow
movement, a nocturne-like dialogue between the two instruments. As to
the beauties--such as the first subject of the first movement (at the
entrance of the violoncello), the opening bars of the Scherzo, part
of the ANDANTE, &c.--they are merely beginnings, springs that lose
themselves soon in a sandy waste. Hence I have not the heart to
controvert Moscheles who, in his diary, says some cutting things about
this work: "In composition Chopin proves that he has only isolated happy
thoughts which he does not know how to work up into a rounded whole. In
the just published sonata with violoncello I find oft