The first variation adds a counterpoint to the theme in groups of four sixteenths. The counterpoint in the second is of groups of six sixteenths. The first two variations thus seem to set the piece gradually into a free motion, which throughout the next two grows more vigorous and more nervous. The fifth is typical of Mendelssohnian agitation; but it serves as an excellent introduction to the chords of the sixth and seventh. The eighth and ninth work up to a frenzy of quick motion. Then follow two in a suppressed and quiet style, the first a little fugue, the second a brief and exquisite _cantilena_. The twelfth is the most vigorous of the lot, a movement as near the virtuoso style as Mendelssohn ever was able to produce. The thirteenth is interesting by reason of the contrast between the legato melody in the left hand and the excellent staccato counterpoint. A short adagio, rather superior to most of the songs in a similar style, forms the fourteenth. The fifteenth is transitional, the sixteenth and seventeenth merely lead up to the presto at the end. The entire group presents nothing in the treatment of the piano in advance of Weber, if, indeed, it anywhere equals him; but it is both in quality and in style a very fine piece of pianoforte music, which can hardly fall under the censure to which most of his music for the instrument is open. There are two concertos and a concert piece for piano and orchestra. The latter owes its form and style very clearly to Weber’s concert piece in F minor. Both the concertos are fluent and plausible enough; the orchestra is handled with Mendelssohn’s customary good taste and sensitiveness; but the writing for the pianoforte is wholly commonplace and the themes themselves of little or no distinction. The ‘Songs without Words’ were published in six groups of six pieces each during his life. After his death in 1847 two more sets appeared. The influence of all these was widely felt, particularly among composers of mediocre gifts. Chopin had no liking for them. In fact, Mendelssohn’s music was more than ordinarily distasteful to him; and he is said to have declared that Mendelssohn never wrote anything better than the first song without words. In some respects this is true. Schumann had a great admiration for Mendelssohn; admired his orderly style and manner. But Schumann’s individuality was far too pronounced, especially in pianoforte predilections, to submit to the milky sway of Mendelssohn.