And then, we do not meet with a phrase of a more cheerful nature which is not clouded by sadness.  Weber—­I mention his name intentionally—­would, for instance, in the D flat major portion have concluded the melodic phrase in diatonic progression and left the harmony pure.  Now see what Chopin does.  The con anima has this mark of melancholy still more distinctly impressed upon it.  After the repetition of the capricious, impulsively-passionate first section (in B flat minor and D flat major) follows the delicious second, the expression of which is as indescribable as that of Leonardo da Vinci’s “La Gioconda.”  It is a pondering and wondering full of longing.  In the deep, tender yearning, with the urging undercurrent of feeling, of the C sharp minor portion, the vague dreaming of the preceding portion of the section grows into wakefulness, and the fitful imagination is concentrated on one object.  Without continuing the emotional or entering on a formal analysis of this scherzo, I venture to say that it is a very important composition, richer and more varied in emotional incidents than the other works of Chopin which bear the same name.  More than to any one of the master’s scherzos, the name capriccio would be suitable to his third “Scherzo,” Op. 39, with its capricious starts and changes, its rudderless drifting.  Peevishness, a fierce scornfulness, and a fretful agitation, may be heard in these sounds, of jest and humour there is nothing perceptible.  At any rate, the curled lip, as it were, contradicts the jesting words, and the careless exterior does not altogether conceal the seething rage within.  But with the meno mosso (D flat major) come pleasanter thoughts.  The hymn-like snatches of sustained melody with the intervening airy interludes are very lovely.  These are the principal features, to describe all the whims is of course impossible.  You may call this work an extravaganza, and point out its grotesqueness; but you must admit that only by this erratic character of the form and these spasmodic movements, could be expressed the peculiar restiveness, fitfulness, and waywardness of thought and feeling that characterise Chopin’s individuality.  To these unclassical qualities—­for classical art is above all plastic and self-possessed—­combined as they are with a high degree of refinement and delicacy, his compositions owe much of their peculiar charm.  The absence of scorn distinguishes the fourth “Scherzo,” Op. 54, from the other three; but, like them, although less closely wrapped, it wears dark veils.  The tripping fairy steps which we find in bars 17-20 and in other places are a new feature in Chopin.  As to the comparative value of the work, it seems to me inferior to its brothers.  The first section is too fragmentary to give altogether satisfaction.  One is hustled from one phrase to another, and they are as unlike each other as can well be imagined.  The beauty of many of the details, however, must be acknowledged; indeed, the harmonic finesses, the melodic