For a long time I earnestly wished to meet with some one who could play the great Sonata in B flat (Op. 106) as it should be played.  At length my wish was gratified—­but by a person who came from a camp wherein those doctrines do not prevail.  Franz Liszt, also, gratified my longing to hear Bach.  No doubt Bach has been assiduously cultivated by Liszt’s opponents; they esteem Bach for teaching purposes, since a smooth and mild manner of execution apparently accords better with his music than “modern effect,” or Beethovenian strenuousness (Drastik).

I once asked one of the best-reputed older musicians, a friend and companion of Mendelssohn (whom I have already mentioned apropos of the tempo di menuetto of the eighth symphony), [Footnote:  Ferdinand Hiller] to play the eighth Prelude and Fugue from the first part of “Das Wohltemperirte Clavier” (E flat minor), a piece which has always had a magical attraction for me. [Footnote:  i.e.  Prelude VIII., from Part I. of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues.] He very kindly complied, and I must confess that I have rarely been so much taken by surprise.  Certainly, there was no trace here of sombre German gothicism and all that old-fashioned stuff; under the hands of my friend, the piece ran along the keyboard with a degree of “Greek serenity” that left me at a loss whither to turn; in my innocence I deemed myself transported to a neo-hellenic synagogue, from the musical cultus of which all old testamentary accentuations had been most elegantly eliminated.  This singular performance still tingled in my ears, when at length I begged Liszt for once to cleanse my musical soul of the painful impression:  he played the fourth Prelude and Fugue (C sharp minor).  Now, I knew what to expect from Liszt at the piano; but I had not expected anything like what I came to hear from Bach, though I had studied him well; I saw how study is eclipsed by genius.  By his rendering of this single fugue of Bach’s, Liszt revealed Bach to me; so that I henceforth knew for certain what to make of Bach, and how to solve all doubts concerning him.  I was convinced, also, that those people know nothing of Bach; and if anyone chooses to doubt my assertion, I answer:  “request them to play a piece of Bach’s.” [Footnote:  See Appendix C]

I would like further to question any member of that musical temperance society and, if it has ever been his lot to hear Liszt play Beethoven’s great B flat Sonata.  I would ask him to testify honestly whether he had before really known and understood that sonata?  I, at least, am acquainted with a person who was so fortunate; and who was constrained to confess that he had not before understood it.  And to this day, who plays Bach, and the great works of Beethoven, in public, and compels every audience to confess as much? a member of that “school for temperance?” No! it is Liszt’s chosen successor, Hans van Bulow.

So much for the present on this subject.  It might prove interesting to observe the attitude these reticent gentlemen take up with regard to performances such as Liszt’s and Bulow’s.