The proverbial stir which the first appearances of Prokofieff's works caused in the concert halls of Russia will never be quite forgotten. He was something like a square peg in a round hole, and as far as squareness goes, he was very square indeed—square rhythms, square forms and straightforward artistic aspirations—these at least were the features by which those few who understood him then, were most struck. The fact that there were still other aspects to his music was only realized later. At that time many æsthetic theories were being discussed and followed by the artistic and pseudo-artistic circles in which he moved. A pupil of Rimsky-Korsakoff, Liadov and Vitol and, although an admirer of their works, unconvinced by their theories, he was more open to influences not much appreciated by the academic set and was eager to embark on experiments in several directions. More clearly than in the orchestral works with which I am here concerned, this can be perceived in his early operas. Were it not for the strength of his personality—a personality as forceful then as it is today—much inconsequence of style might have been the result. It is his musicianship which has prevented him from following the same path as, for instance, Shostakovich, who, for as long as he was allowed to, remained an experimentalist and then went the well-trodden way of conventionalism. In Prokofieff's case, however, discrepancies which will come to light under close examination are smoothed over by a homogeneous style and by great technical skill.