rce conflict. The theme of the Adagio, in
A flat, partly inspired by Beethoven, is noble, and full of tender,
regretful feeling; the opening and close of the movement are the
finest portions. The Minuet and Trio are effective, but the final
Allegro is hopelessly long, and by no means equal to the rest of the
work.

The first movement of the sonata in A has a characteristic principal
theme, and one in the dominant key of bewitching beauty. The coda
gives a last reminiscence of the opening theme; but its almost defiant
character has vanished away; for it is now played pianissimo.
Schubert, in the importance of his codas, recalls Beethoven; each,
however, made it serve a different purpose. The latter, at any rate in
his Allegro movements, gathers together his strength, as if for one
last, supreme effort. Schubert, on the other hand, seems rather as if
his strength were spent, and as if he could only give a faint echo of
his leading theme. The coda of the first movement of the sonata in A
minor (Op. 42) offers, however, one striking exception. The Andantino
and Scherzo of the A sonata are well-nigh perfect, but the Rondo, in
spite of much that is charming, is of inferior quality and of
irritating length. The 3rd sonata, in B flat, the last of the series,
the _sonate-testament_, as Von Lenz said of Beethoven's Op. 111, has
wonderful moments, yet it contains also lengths which even Schumann
would scarcely have ventured to style "heavenly." We refer
particularly to the first and last movements; the Andante and Scherzo
are beyond criticism.

These sonatas were written as Schubert was about to enter the Valley
of the Shadow of Death. His spirit was still strong, but his flesh
must have been weak. To turn away from them on account of any
imperfections, would be to lose some of Schubert's loftiest thoughts,
some of his choicest tone-painting.

CHAPTER IX

SCHUMANN, CHOPIN, BRAHMS, AND LISZT

After Beethoven, the first composer of note was Robert Schumann, one
of the founders of the so-called romantic school. In one of his
letters he refers to Beethoven's choral symphony "as the turning-point
from the classical to the romantic period." By reading, Schumann had
cultivated his imagination, but his musical training was irregular;
and, indeed, when he first commenced composing, practically _nil_. If
his soul was stirred by some poem, or tale, or by remembrance of some
dear friend, he sought to express his thoughts and fe