You all use the pedal too much and too often, especially on large, fine concert pianos of the new construction, which, with their heavy stringing, have in themselves a fuller, more vibrating tone; at least you do not let it fall frequently enough, and with precision.  You must listen to what you are playing.  You do not play for yourselves alone; frequently you play to hearers who are listening for the first time to the pieces you are performing.  Try a few passages without pedal,—­for instance, those in which the changes of the harmony succeed each other rapidly, even in the highest treble,—­and see what repose, what serene enjoyment, what refreshment is afforded, what delicate shading is brought out.  Or at first listen, and try to feel it in the playing of others; for your habit is so deeply rooted that you no longer know when and how often you use the pedal.  Chopin, that highly gifted, elegant, sensitive composer and performer, may serve as a model for you here.  His widely dispersed, artistic harmonies, with the boldest and most striking suspensions, for which the fundamental bass is essential, certainly require the frequent use of the pedal for fine harmonic effect.  But, if you examine and observe the minute, critical directions in his compositions, you can obtain from him complete instruction for the nice and correct use of the pedal.

By way of episode to my sorrowful lecture on the pedal, we will take a walk through the streets some beautiful evening.  What is it that we hear in almost every house?  Unquestionably it is piano-playing; but what playing!  It is generally nothing but a continual confusion of different chords, without close, without pause; slovenly passages, screened by the raised pedal; varied by an empty, stiff, weak touch, relying upon the pedal for weight.  We will escape into the next street.  Oh, horrors! what a thundering on this piano, which, by the way, is sadly out of tune!  It is a grand—­that is, a long, heavy—­etude, with the most involved passages, and a peculiar style of composition, probably with the title “On the Ocean,” or “In Hades,” or “Fancies of the Insane;” pounded off with the pedal raised through the most marvellous changes of harmonies.  Finally, the strings snap, the pedal creaks and moans; conclusion,—­c, c sharp, d, d sharp resound together through a few exhausted bars, and at last die away in the warm, soft, delicious air.  Universal applause from the open windows!  But who is the frantic musician who is venting his rage or this piano?  It is a Parisian or other travelling composer, lately arrived with letters of recommendation, who has just been giving a little rehearsal of what we may expect to hear shortly in a concert at the “Hotel de Schmerz.”

CHAPTER VI.

THE SOFT-PEDAL SENTIMENT.

You exclaim:  “What is that?—­a sentiment for the soft pedal! a sentiment of any kind in our times! most of all, a musical sentiment!  I have not heard of such a thing in a concert-room for a long time!”