If he could do so it was
because he had harkened to the voice of the violin and resolved to show
that the piano, too, could produce thrilling effects. In the same way he
had listened to the human voice, and determined that the song of his own
instrument should be heard. Those who give ear to the piano alone will
never learn the secret of calling forth its supreme eloquence.
We can see and hear this "Raphael of Music" at the piano, so many and so
eloquent have been the descriptions given of his playing. It is easy to
fancy him sweeping the ivory keys with his gossamer touch that enveloped
with ethereal beauty the most unaccustomed of his complicated chromatic
modulations. We can feel his individuality pulsating through every tone
evoked by those individualized fingers of his as they weave measures for
sylphs of dreamland, or summon to warfare heroes of the ideal world. We
are entranced by his luxuriant tone-coloring, induced to a large extent
by his original management of the pedals. We marvel at his softly
whispered, yet ever clearly distinct pianissimo, at the full, round tone
of its relative fortissimo, that was never harsh or noisy, and at all
the exquisitely graded nuances that lay between, with those time
fluctuations expressive of the ebb and flow of his poetic inner being.
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