reproached with a want of forethought and consideration;
unconsciously, perhaps, he may have had a very good reason for
his "forgetfulness." It would have been very indiscreet to risk a
change of tempo which had not been rehearsed. For the orchestra,
accustomed to play the piece in a quick tempo, would have been
disturbed by the sudden imposition of a more moderate pace;
which, as a matter of course, demands a totally different style
of playing.

We have now reached an important and decisive point, an
appreciation of which is indispensable if we care to arrive at a
satisfactory conclusion regarding the execution of classical
music. Injudicious tempi might be defended with some show of
reason inasmuch as a factitious style of delivery has arisen in
conformity with them, and to the uninitiated such conformity of
style and tempo might appear as a proof that all was right. The
evil, however, is apparent enough if only the right tempo is
taken, in which case the false style becomes quite unbearable.

To illustrate this, in the simplest possible way, let us take the
opening of the C minor Symphony

[Musical Score excerpt of the famous main motif from Beethoven's
Fifth]

Usually the fermata of the second bar is left after a slight
rest; our conductors hardly make use of this fermata for anything
else than to fix the attention of their men upon the attack of
the figure in the third bar. In most cases the note E flat is not
held any longer than a forte produced with a careless stroke of