In every age there have been individuals who disputed the value of all tradition-if they did not roundly deny it. Now, hardly one case in a thousand is better adapted to lend countenance to such views, than the Chopin Edition of C. Mikuli.

After the very rational, quietly objective Preface one would expect a trustworthy, well-informed guide through blest and unblest realms of enchant-ment; instead of which one usually finds himself confronted, so to speak, by a hedge of stubborn, thorny fingerings and shapelessly twisted, truncated expression- and tempo-marks, behind which a naughty rogue seems to be calling out mockingly at the trustful beginner: “Come along, keep on trying! you’ll never get through!’ At intervals may be found empty expanses where liberty reigns untrammeled, for nothing (aside from the bare framework of notes) is to be seen except a few wandering, scattered pedal-marks. Should the metronomic signpost happen to bear a number less than 20 degrees higher or lower than it ought to be, one is agreeably surprised. And the crowning joke is, that all this is supposed to be by the composer himself.

Only one who feels impelled to follow up this “legitimate” apostle of Chopin measure by measure, is in a position thoroughly to appreciate all that has been achieved here on the basis of a most intimate misunderstanding of the instrument. However, the piano-playing world passed sentence on it long ago, so no further words are necessary.