to be a trait of the human mind which it is
difficult to eradicate. It is a suggestive fact that the morbid, sham
aestheticism which prevailed in England a few years ago, chose for its
symbol the uncouth sunflower. And many who know that a sunflower is
less beautiful and fragrant than a violet, will nevertheless, on
visiting a picture gallery, give most of their attention to the large
canvases, though the smaller ones may be infinitely more beautiful. It
cannot be said that the critics of art or literature follow the
popular disposition to measure genius with a yard-stick; but in music
there seems to be a general tendency to do this. Liszt remarks,
apropos, in his work on Chopin: "The value of the sketches made by
Chopin's extremely delicate pencil has not yet been acknowledged and
emphasized sufficiently. It has become customary in our days to regard
as great composers only those who have written at least half a dozen
operas, as many oratorios, and several symphonies."

Even Schumann, and Elsner, Chopin's teacher, seem to have been
affected a little by this irrational way of looking at music.
Schumann, in a complimentary notice of Chopin's nocturnes, expresses
his regrets that the composer should confine himself so strictly to
the pianoforte, whereas he might have influenced the development of
music in all its branches. He adds, however, on second thought, that
"to be a poet one need not have written ponderous volumes; one or two
poems suffice to make a reputation, and Chopin has written such."
Elsner who was unusually liberal in his views of art, and who
discovered and valued his pupil's originality long before Schumann
did, nevertheless bowed before the fetish of Jumboism in so far as to
write to Chopin in Paris that he was anxious, before he departed this
Vale of Tears, to hear an opera from his pen, both for his benefit,
and for the glory of his country. Chopin took this admonition to heart
sufficiently to ask a friend to prepare for him a libretto; but that
is as far as the project ever went. Chopin must have felt
instinctively that his individual style of miniature painting would be
as ineffective on the operatic stage, where bold, _al fresco_ painting
is required, as his soft and dreamy playing would have been had he
taken his piano from the parlor and placed it in a meadow.

Besides Chopin's abhorrence of musical warfare and his avoidance of
the larger and more imposing forms of the opera, symphony, and
orato