r, but most of them are outbreaks of the
wildest anguish and heart-rending pathos. If tears could be heard,
they would sound like these preludes. Two of the saddest--those in B
minor and E minor--were played by the famous organist Lefebure Wely,
at Chopin's funeral services. But it is useless to specify. They are
all jewels of the first water.

Some years ago I wrote in "The Nation" that if all pianoforte music in
the world were to be destroyed, excepting one collection, my vote
should be cast for Chopin's preludes. If anything could induce me to
modify that opinion to-day, it would be the thought of Chopin's
etudes. I would never consent to their loss. Louis Ehlert, speaking of
Chopin's F Major ballad, says he has seen even children stop in their
play and listen to it enraptured. But, in the etudes I mentioned a
moment ago, there are melodies which, I should think, would tempt even
angels to leave their happy home and indulge, for a moment, in the
luxury of idealized human sorrow. There is in these twenty-seven
etudes, as in the twenty-five preludes, an inexhaustible wealth of
melody, modulation, poetry and passion. One can play them every day
and never tire of them. Of most of them one might say what Schumann
said of one--that they are "poems rather than studies;" and much
surprise has been expressed that Chopin should have chosen such a
modest and apparently inappropriate name for them as "studies." Now, I
have a theory on this subject: I believe it was partly an ironic
intention which induced Chopin to call some of his most inspired
pieces "studies." Pianists have always been too much in the habit of
looking at their art from purely technical or mechanical points of
view. They looked for mere five-finger exercises in Chopin's etudes,
and finding at the same time an abundance of musical ideas, they were
surprised. It did not occur to them that Chopin might have intended
them also as studies in musical composition--studies in melody,
harmony, rhythm and emotional expression. I believe he did so intend
them; and finding that his contemporaries did not take his idea, he
probably laughed in his sleeve, and exclaimed, "_O tempora!_"

This conjecture seems the more plausible, from the fact that there was
a pronounced ironic and comic vein in Chopin's character. The accounts
of his melancholy, in fact, like those of his ill-health, have been
too much exaggerated. He was often in a cheerful mood. Sometimes he
would amuse h