“‘We have had some little correspondence, haven’t we?’

“I told him it was thanks to his letters that I was now here.  He eyed somewhat hungrily the package under my arm, his long, spider-like fingers approaching it in such an alarming manner that I thought it advisable to open at once.  He turned over the leaves, reading through the Sonata.  He had now become interested, but my courage dropped to zero when he asked me to play the Sonata, but there was no help for it.

“So I started on his splendid American Chickering grand.  Right in the beginning, where the violin starts in, he exclaimed:  ’How bold that is!  Look here, I like that; once more please.’  And where the violin again comes in adagio, he played the part on the upper octaves with an expression so beautiful, so marvelously true and singing, it made me smile inwardly.  My spirits rose because of his lavish approval, which did me good.  After the first movement, I asked his permission to play a solo, and chose the Minuet, from the Humoresken.”

At this point Grieg was brave enough to ask Liszt to play for him.  This the master did in a superb manner.  To go on with the letter: 

“When this was done, Liszt said jauntily, ’Now let us go on with the Sonata’; to which I naturally retorted, ’No thank you, not after this.’

“‘Why not?  Then give it to me, I’ll do it.’  And what does Liszt do?  He plays the whole thing, root and branch, violin and piano; nay more, for he plays it fuller and more broadly.  He was literally over the whole piano at once, without missing a note.  And how he did play!  With grandeur, beauty, unique comprehension.

“Was this not geniality itself?  No other great man I have met is like him.  I played the Funeral March, which was also to his taste.  Then, after a little talk, I took leave, with the consciousness of having spent two of the most interesting hours of my life.”

The second meeting with Liszt took place soon after this.  Of it he writes in part: 

“I had fortunately received the manuscript of my Concerto from Leipsic, and took it with me.  A number of musicians were present.

“‘Will you play?’ asked Liszt.  I answered in the negative, as you know I had never practised it.  Liszt took the manuscript, went to the piano, and said to the assembled guests:  ’Very well, then, I will show you that I also cannot.’  Then he began.  I admit that he took the first part too fast, but later on, when I had a chance to indicate the tempo, he played as only he can play.  His demeanor is worth any price to see.  Not content with playing, he at the same time converses, addressing a bright remark now to one, now to another of his guests, nodding from right to left, particularly when something pleases him.  In the Adagio, and still more in the Finale, he reached a climax, both in playing and in the praise he bestowed.

“When all was over, he handed me the manuscript, and said, in a peculiarly cordial tone:  ’Keep steadily on; you have the ability, and—­do not let them intimidate you!’