the handling of
those powerful levers, key-relation and contrast, may also be observed
in the Sonata, Op. 4, where the last movement brings the first subject
in C minor and the second in G minor. Here the composer preserves the
same mode (minor), there the same tonic, the result being nearly the
same in both instances. But, it may be asked, was not this languid
monotony which results from the employment of these means just what
Chopin intended? The only reply that can be made to this otherwise
unanswerable objection is, so much the worse for the artist's art if
he had such intentions. Chopin's description of the Adagio quoted
above--remember the beloved landscape, the beautiful memories, the
moonlit spring night, and the muted violins--hits off its character
admirably. Although Chopin himself designates the first Allegro as
"vigorous"--which in some passages, at least from the composer's
standpoint, we may admit it to be--the fundamental mood of this movement
is one closely allied to that which he says he intended to express in
the Adagio. Look at the first movement, and judge whether there are not
in it more pale moonlight reveries than fresh morning thoughts. Indeed,
the latter, if not wholly absent, are confined to the introductory
bars of the first subject and some passage-work. Still, the movement
is certainly not without beauty, although the themes appear somewhat
bloodless, and the passages are less brilliant and piquant than those in
the F minor Concerto. Exquisite softness and tenderness distinguish
the melodious parts, and Chopin's peculiar coaxing tone is heard in the
semiquaver passage marked tranquillo of the first subject. The least
palatable portion of the movement is the working-out section. The
pianoforte part therein reminds one too much of a study, without having
the beauty of Chopin's compositions thus entitled; and the orchestra
amuses itself meanwhile with reminiscences of the principal motives.
Chopin's procedure in this and similar cases is pretty much the same (F
minor Concerto, Krakowiak, &c.), and recalls to my mind--may the manes
of the composer forgive me--a malicious remark of Rellstab's. Speaking
of the introduction to the Variations, Op. 2, he says: "The composer
pretends to be going to work out the theme." It is curious, and sad
at the same time, to behold with what distinction Chopin treats the
bassoon, and how he is repaid with mocking ingratitude. But enough of
the orchestral rabble.