possible with correct playing, founded on a right method, to play, without external aids, forte, fortissimo, piano, pianissimo,—­in a word, with every degree of shading, and with at least formal expression; and that this style of playing, with the requisite mechanical skill, sounds far more pure, and is more satisfactory than when a feeling is affected through the crude, unskilful, and absurd use of the pedal, especially of the soft pedal of which we are now speaking.  This affectation only gives one more proof of our unhealthy, stupid, and unmusical infancy in piano performances.  A good-natured public, drummed up and brought together by patient persuasion and by urgent recommendations, of which virtuosos can obtain an abundance (for the tormented cities which they have visited cannot otherwise get rid of them), attend these concerts and listen to dozens of such inexperienced piano-players.  One plays exactly like another, with more or less faulty mechanical execution; and none of them are able, with all their thumping and caressing of the keys, to bring out from the instrument a broad, healthy, full, and beautiful tone, delicately shaded and distinct even to the softest pp. But, instead of this, they fall into a pedal sentiment; i.e., they play with outside pretension, and with intrinsic emptiness.

You unworthy performers, who have so disgusted the artistic public with piano-playing that they will no longer listen to fine, intelligent, sensible artists, whose dignity does not permit them to force themselves into the concert-hall, or to drag people into it from the streets! you base mortals, who have exposed this beautiful art to shame!  I implore you to abandon the concert platform, your battle-field!  Hack at the piano no longer!  Find positions on a railroad or in a factory.  There you may perhaps make yourselves useful; while by the lessons you give (for it usually comes to that, after you have travelled all over the world) you will only ruin our young people, now growing up with promising talent for piano-playing, and will produce successors like yourselves, but not artists.

I must whisper one thing more in your ear.  I will say nothing about simple truthfulness, about tenderness and sincerity of feeling, or wholesome refinement, about poetry, inspiration, or truly impassioned playing.  But, if your ears are not already too much blunted, you should be able to discover, at least in a very few minutes, on any instrument, unless it is of the worst sort, or has already been battered to pieces by you, how far you can carry the pianissimo and fortissimo, and still preserve the tone within the limits of beauty and simplicity.  You will thus be able to interpret a piece with at least superficial correctness, without mortally wounding a cultivated ear by exaggerations and by maltreatment of the instrument and its two pedals.

This style of playing has nevertheless found its numerous defenders and admirers in our century, which has made every thing possible.  This senseless enslavement and abuse of the piano has been said to be “all the rage;” a fine expression of our piano critics to justify insane stamping and soft-pedal sentimentality.