first reading in order not to lose the continuity. Such places
one finds on almost every page in the sonata, and Chopin's often arbitrary and
wild chord writing make the detection [of the musical goals] still more
difficult. To be sure, he does not like to enharmonize, if I may call it that,
and so often gets measures and keys in ten or more sharps, which [extremes] we
can tolerate only in the most exceptional cases. Often he is justified, but
often he confuses without reason and, as stated, alienates a good part of the
public in this way, who, that is, do not care to be fooled all the time and to
be driven into a corner. Thus, the sonata has a signature of five flats, or
B-Flat minor, a key that certainly cannot boast any special popularity. The
beginning goes thus: [The opening four measures are quoted.]
After this typically Chopinesque beginning follows one of
those stormy passionate phrases such as we already know by Chopin. One has to
hear it played frequently and well. But this first part of the work also brings
beautiful melody; indeed, it seems as if the Polish national favour that
inhered in most of the earlier Chopin melodies vanishes more and more with
time, [and] as if even he sometimes turned (beyond Germany) towards Italy. One
knows that Bellini and Chopin were friends, that they often told each other of
their compositions, [and] probably were not without artistic influence on each
other. However, as suggested, it is only a slight leaning toward the southern
manner. As soon as the melody ends, the whole [barbarian tribe of] Sarmatae
flashes forth again in its relentless originality and tumult. At least, Bellini
never dared to write and never could write a crisscross chord pattern such as
we find at the end of the first theme in the second part [undoubtedly mss.
138-53]. And similarly, the entire movement ends [but] little in Italian
fashion, which reminds me of Liszt's pertinent remark. He once said, Rossini
and his compatriots always ended with a "v�tre tres humble serviteur," but not
so Chopin, whose finales express rather the opposite.
The second movement is only the continuation of this mood,
daring, sophisticated, fantastic, [with] the trio delicate, dreamy, entirely in
Chopin's manner: [that is,] a Scherzo only in name, as with many of Beethoven's
[scherzos]. Still more somber, a Marcia
funebre follows, which even has something repulsive [about it]; an adagio
in its place, perhaps in D Flat, would have had a far more beautiful effect.
What we get in the final movement under the title "Finale" seems more like a
mockery than any [sort of] music. And yet, one has to admit, even from this
unmelodic and joyless movement a peculiar, frightful spirit touches us, which
holds down with an iron fist those who would
