the flabby and colourless way (ruschlich herunter spielen) they
had been accustomed to--and which, they said, even Mendelssohn
himself had sanctioned.

The fatal maxims came to the front quite clearly when I was about
to rehearse a symphony by a very amiable elderly contrapuntist,
Mr. Potter, [Footnote: Cipriani Potter, 1792-1871, pianist and
composer, author of "Recollections of Beethoven." etc.] if I
mistake not. The composer approached me in a pleasant way, and
asked me to take the Andante rather quickly as he feared it might
prove tedious. I assured him that his Andante, no matter how
short its duration might be, would inevitably prove tedious if it
was played in a vapid and inexpressive manner; whereas if the
orchestra could be got to play the very pretty and ingenious
theme, as I felt confident he meant it and as I now sang it to
him, it would certainly please. Mr. Potter was touched; he
agreed, and excused himself, saying that latterly he had not been
in the habit of reckoning upon this sort of orchestral playing.
In the evening, after the Andante, he joyfully pressed my hand.

I have often been astonished at the singularly slight sense for
tempo and execution evinced by leading musicians. I found it
impossible, for instance, to communicate to Mendelssohn what I
felt to be a perverse piece of negligence with regard to the
tempo of the third movement in Beethoven's Symphony in F major,
No. 8. This is one of the instances I have chosen out of many to
throw light upon certain dubious aspects of music amongst us.

We know that Haydn in his principal later symphonies used the
form of the Menuet as a pleasant link between the Adagio and the