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--étude, 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 "Hôtel de Schmerz."




CHAPTER VI.