with me “on the whole”; but in particular, people failed to see what I was aiming at.  Certainly (to go on with the example) this first variation of that lovely sustained theme is of a conspicuously lively character; when the composer invented it he could hardly have thought of it as immediately following the theme, or as being in direct contact with it.  The component parts of the Variation-form are each complete in themselves, and perhaps the composer was unconsciously influenced by this fact.  But, when the entire piece is played, the parts appear in uninterrupted succession.  We know from other movements of the master’s (for instance the second movement of the C minor symphony, the Adagio of the great quartet in E flat, and above all from the wonderful second movement of the great sonata in C minor, Op.  III), which are all written in the form of Variations, but in which the parts are conceived as standing in immediate connection, how deftly and delicately the links between the different variations can be contrived.  A player who, in a case like that of the so-called “Kreutzer-Sonata,” claims the honour of representing the master in full, might, at least, attempt to establish some sort of relation and connection between the sentiment of the theme and that of the first variation; he might begin the latter at a more moderate pace, and gradually lead up to the lively movement.  Pianoforte and violin players are firmly persuaded that the character of this variation differs considerably from that of the theme.  Let them then interpret it with artistic discrimination, and treat the first part of the variation as a gradual approach to the new tempo; thus adding a charm to the interest the part already possesses per se.

A stronger case, of similar import, will be found in the beginning of the first Allegro 6-8 after the long introductory Adagio of the string quartet in C sharp minor. [Footnote:  Op. 131.] This is marked “molto vivace,” and the character of the entire movement is thus appropriately indicated.  In quite an exceptional way, however Beethoven has, in this quartet, so arranged the several movements that they are heard in immediate succession, without the customary interval; indeed they appear to be developed one from the other according to certain delicate laws.  Thus the Allegro immediately follows an Adagio full of a dreamy sadness, not to be matched elsewhere in the master’s works.  If it were permitted to interpret the Allegro as showing a state of feeling, such as could in some sort be reproduced in pictorial language, (deutbares Stimmungsbild) one might say that it shews a most lovely phenomenon, which arises, as it were, from the depths of memory, and which, as soon as it has been apprehended, is warmly taken up, and cherished.  Evidently the question, with regard to execution, here is:  how can this phenomenon (the new Allegro theme) be made to arise naturally from the sad and sombre close of the Adagio, so that