Kullak dilates upon a peculiarity of Chopin:  the dispersed position of his underlying harmonies.  This in a footnote to the eleventh study of op. 10.  Here one must let go the critical valve, else strangle in pedagogics.  So much has been written, so much that is false, perverted sentimentalism and unmitigated cant about the nocturnes, that the wonder is the real Chopin lover has not rebelled.  There are pearls and diamonds in the jewelled collection of nocturnes, many are dolorous, few dramatic, and others are sweetly insane and songful.  I yield to none in my admiration for the first one of the two in G minor, for the psychical despair in the C sharp minor nocturne, for that noble drama called the C minor nocturne, for the B major, the Tuberose nocturne; and for the E, D flat and G major nocturnes, it remains unabated.  But in the list there is no such picture painted, a Corot if ever there was one, as this E flat study.

Its novel design, delicate arabesques—­as if the guitar had been dowered with a soul—­and the richness and originality of its harmonic scheme, gives us pause to ask if Chopin’s invention is not almost boundless.  The melody itself is plaintive; a plaintive grace informs the entire piece.  The harmonization is far more wonderful, but to us the chord of the tenth and more remote intervals, seem no longer daring; modern composition has devilled the musical alphabet into the very caverns of the grotesque, yet there are harmonies in the last page of this study that still excite wonder.  The fifteenth bar from the end is one that Richard Wagner might have made.  From that bar to the close, every group is a masterpiece.

Remember, this study is a nocturne, and even the accepted metronomic markings in most editions, 76 to the quarter, are not too slow; they might even be slower.  Allegretto and not a shade speedier!  The color scheme is celestial and the ending a sigh, not unmixed with happiness.  Chopin, sensitive poet, had his moments of peace, of divine content—­lebensruhe.  The dizzy appoggiatura leaps in the last two bars set the seal of perfection upon this unique composition.

Touching upon the execution, one may say that it is not for small hands, nor yet for big fists.  The former must not believe that any “arrangements” or simplified versions will ever produce the aerial effect, the swaying of the tendrils of tone, intended by Chopin.  Very large hands are tempted by their reach to crush the life out of the study in not arpeggiating it.  This I have heard, and the impression was indescribably brutal.  As for fingering, Mikuli, Von Bulow, Kullak, Riemann and Klindworth all differ, and from them must most pianists differ.  Your own grasp, individual sense of fingering and tact will dictate the management of technics.  Von Bulow gives a very sensible pattern to work from, and Kullak is still more explicit.  He analyzes the melody and, planning the arpeggiating with scrupulous fidelity, he shows why the arpeggiating “must