aute volee has not yet heard
me.

On April 10, 1830, Chopin writes that his Concerto is not yet finished;
and on May 15, 1830:--

The Rondo for my Concerto is not yet finished, because the
right inspired mood has always beep wanting. If I have only
the Allegro and the Adagio completely finished I shall be
without anxiety about the Finale. The Adagio is in E major,
and of a romantic, calm, and partly melancholy character. It
is intended to convey the impression which one receives when
the eye rests on a beloved landscape that calls up in one's
soul beautiful memories--for instance, on a fine, moonlit
spring night. I have written violins with mutes as an
accompaniment to it. I wonder if that will have a good
effect? Well, time will show.

August 21, 1830.--Next month I leave here; first, however, I
must rehearse my Concerto, for the Rondo is now finished.

For an account of the rehearsals of the Concerto and its first public
performance at Chopin's third Warsaw concert on October u, 1830, the
reader is referred to the tenth chapter (p. 150). [FOOTNOTE: In the
following remarks on the concertos I shall draw freely from the critical
commentary on the Pianoforte Works of Chopin, which I contributed some
years ago (1879) to the Monthly Musical Record.]

Chopin, says Liszt, wrote beautiful concertos and fine sonatas, but it
is not difficult to perceive in these productions "plus de volonte que
d'inspiration." As for his inspiration it was naturally "imperieuse,
fantasque, irreflechie; ses allures ne pouvaient etre que libres."
Indeed, Liszt believes that Chopin--

did violence to his genius every time he sought to fetter it
by rules, classifications, and an arrangement that was not
his own, and could not accord with the exigencies of his
spirit, which was one of those whose grace displays itself
when they seem to drift along [alter a la derive]....The
classical attempts of Chopin nevertheless shine by a rare
refinement of style. They contain passages of great interest,
parts of surprising grandeur.

With Chopin writing a concerto or a sonata was an effort, and the effort
was always inadequate for the attainment of the object--a perfect work
of its kind. He lacked the peculiar qualities, natural and acquired,
requisite for a successful cultivation of the larger forms. He could
not grasp and hold the threads of thought which he found flitting in his
min