uccessors. So much for an attempt at strict devotion to
scholastic form.

From this schoolroom we are transported in op. 35 to the theatre of
larger life and passion. The B flat minor Sonata was published May,
1840. Two movements are masterpieces; the funeral march that forms the
third movement is one of the Pole's most popular compositions, while
the finale has no parallel in piano music. Schumann says that Chopin
here "bound together four of his maddest children," and he is not
astray. He thinks the march does not belong to the work. It certainly
was written before its companion movements. As much as Hadow admires
the first two movements, he groans at the last pair, though they are
admirable when considered separately.

These four movements have no common life. Chopin says he intended the
strange finale as a gossiping commentary on the march. "The left hand
unisono with the right hand are gossiping after the march." Perhaps the
last two movements do hold together, but what have they in common with
the first two? Tonality proves nothing. Notwithstanding the grandeur
and beauty of the grave, the power and passion of the scherzo, this
Sonata in B flat minor is not more a sonata than it is a sequence of
ballades and scherzi. And again we are at the de Maupassant crux. The
work never could be spared; it is Chopin mounted for action and in the
thick of the fight. The doppio movimento is pulse-stirring--a strong,
curt and characteristic theme for treatment. Here is power, and in the
expanding prologue flashes more than a hint of the tragic. The D flat
Melody is soothing, charged with magnetism, and urged to a splendid
fever of climax. The working out section is too short and dissonantal,
but there is development, perhaps more technical than logical--I mean
by this more pianistic than intellectually musical--and we mount with
the composer until the B flat version of the second subject is reached,
for the first subject, strange to say, does not return. From that on to
the firm chords of the close there is no misstep, no faltering or
obscurity. Noble pages have been read, and the scherzo is approached
with eagerness. Again there is no disappointment. On numerous occasions
I have testified my regard for this movement in warm and uncritical
terms. It is simply unapproachable, and has no equal for lucidity,
brevity and polish among the works of Chopin, except the Scherzo in C
sharp minor; but there is less irony, more muscularity