d, and weave them into a strong, complex web; he snatched them up one
by one, tied them together, and either knit them into light fabrics or
merely wound them into skeins. In short, Chopin was not a thinker, not
a logician--his propositions are generally good, but his arguments
are poor and the conclusions often wanting. Liszt speaks sometimes of
Chopin's science. In doing this, however, he misapplies the word. There
was nothing scientific in Chopin's mode of production, and there is
nothing scientific in his works. Substitute "ingenious" (in the sense
of quick-witted and possessed of genius, in the sense of the German
geistreich) for "scientific," and you come near to what Liszt really
meant. If the word is applicable at all to art, it can be applicable
only to works which manifest a sustained and dominating intellectual
power, such, for instance, as a fugue of Bach's, a symphony of
Beethoven's, that is, to works radically different from those of Chopin.
Strictly speaking, the word, however, is not applicable to art, for art
and science are not coextensive; nay, to some extent, are even
inimical to each other. Indeed, to call a work of art purely and simply
"scientific," is tantamount to saying that it is dry and uninspired by
the muse. In dwelling so long on this point my object was not so much to
elucidate Liszt's meaning as Chopin's character as a composer.

Notwithstanding their many shortcomings, the concertos may be said to be
the most satisfactory of Chopin's works in the larger forms, or at least
those that afford the greatest amount of enjoyment. In some respects the
concerto-form was more favourable than the sonata-form for the exercise
of Chopin's peculiar talent, in other respects it was less so. The
concerto-form admits of a far greater and freer display of the virtuosic
capabilities of the pianoforte than the sonata-form, and does not
necessitate the same strictness of logical structure, the same thorough
working-out of the subject-matter. But, on the other hand, it demands
aptitude in writing for the orchestra and appropriately solid material.
Now, Chopin lacked such aptitude entirely, and the nature of his
material accorded little with the size of the structure and the
orchestral frame. And, then, are not these confessions of intimate
experiences, these moonlight sentimentalities, these listless dreams,
&c., out of place in the gaslight glare of concert-rooms, crowded with
audiences brought together to a