with those critics who think it is owing to the strongly-marked, exclusive Polish national character that these two works have gained so little sympathy in the musical world; there are artistic reasons that account for the neglect, which is indeed so great that I do not remember having heard or read of any virtuoso performing either of these pieces in public till a few years ago, when Chopin’s talented countrywoman Mdlle.  Janotha ventured on a revival of the Fantasia, without, however, receiving, in spite of her finished rendering, much encouragement.  The works, as wholes, are not altogether satisfactory in the matter of form, and appear somewhat patchy.  This is especially the case in the Fantasia, where the connection of parts is anything but masterly.  Then the arabesk-element predominates again quite unduly.  Rellstab discusses the Fantasia with his usual obtuseness, but points out correctly that Chopin gives only here and there a few bars of melody, and never a longer melodic strain.  The best parts of the works, those that contain the greatest amount of music, are certainly the exceedingly spirited Kujawiak and Krakowiak.  The unrestrained merriment that reigns in the latter justifies, or, if it does not justify, disposes us to forgive much.  Indeed, the Rondo may be said to overflow with joyousness; now the notes run at random hither and thither, now tumble about head over heels, now surge in bold arpeggios, now skip from octave to octave, now trip along in chromatics, now vent their gamesomeness in the most extravagant capers.

The orchestral accompaniments, which in the Variations, Op. 2, are of very little account, show in every one of the three works of this group an inaptitude in writing for any other instrument than the piano that is quite surprising considering the great musical endowments of Chopin in other respects.  I shall not dwell on this subject now, as we shall have to consider it when we come to the composer’s concertos.

The fundamental characteristics of Chopin’s style—­the loose-textured, wide-meshed chords and arpeggios, the serpentine movements, the bold leaps—­are exaggerated in the works of this group, and in their exaggeration become grotesque, and not unfrequently ineffective.  These works show us, indeed, the composer’s style in a state of fermentation; it has still to pass through a clearing process, in which some of its elements will be secreted and others undergo a greater or less change.  We, who judge Chopin by his best works, are apt to condemn too precipitately the adverse critics of his early compositions.  But the consideration of the luxuriance and extravagance of the passage-work which distinguish them from the master’s maturer creations ought to caution us and moderate our wrath.  Nay more, it may even lead us to acknowledge, however reluctantly, that amidst the loud braying of Rellstab there occurred occasionally utterances that were by no means devoid of articulation and sense.  Take, for instance,