Morning journal and courier., 1886-05-27
Liazf at inc Piano,

TThe Rev H. R. Haweis in the Pall Mall Gazette. l
 April G. 1886, will be day never to be forgotten in the annals of the Royal Academy of Music
 April 6, 1886. A few minutes after 5, the music theatre being by that time densely packed with students, professors and a few others, Liszt, accompanied by the president, G. Macfarren, Walter Bache, Sainton, Little ton, etc.. entered the room. The moment his noble head, with it's white hair, was seen, g roar ot applause rose on every side. He looked like a figure out of one of the old engravings of Sebastian Bach Mozart, truly 8 man who already belongs to another age than ours-an age of art creat- ors, painters, poets and musicians since pass ed away, himself among the mightiest of them. No sooner had he taken his seat than little girl with an enormous flower wreath
 in the form of Tyre advanced toward him.
 Liszt bent down tenderly and kissed the child who, am told, is the infant phenome non
 of the Academy-on her forehead. A kiss to be emembered, like the kiss Beethov-
 en gave to Liszt, who played before him as a boy.
 l could describe the excellent and inter esting programme patiently enough had Liszt not been there, had Liszt not played But in my own mind up to certain moment,
 
 expressed or unuttered, there was but one thought-''Would Liszt pleys'' F'If he does, '' I whispered to MT. Burnett, the violinist, 'smark me, it will be after young Webbe has finished the Liszt concerto" am proud of she prophecy. Miss Dora Bright, who played Ste1ndale Bennett's Caprice in E with gr eat elegance and finish Miss Winnifred Robinson, pupil of Sainton, who, I am told, at short notice mastered c. Mackenzies difficult vio- lin concerto-each had descended to receive the masters encouraging word of appsoval as he rose and shook each aspirant to fame warmly by the hand. But the applause which greeted Webbe had gone and the m as- ter had resumed his seat. He rose twice, bowed all round, and sat down twice. Then something like an agony of despair and sus- pense seized upon the audience. They leaned forward with renewed and more vehement ap- | plause. All eyes seemed Inagnetizing Liszt with an intent, beseeching gaze. I never saw the wishing or willing game played with such effect. 1 never saw such scene in 8 concert room or theatre. I have seen trans ports of enthusiasm at Bayreuth when Wag ner appeared in front of the curtain on the last great day of the ''Gotterdammering" l have seen the people ct St. James, Hall rise at Rubinstein; but I never anything comparable to what took place st tte Roya Academy yesterday-when Liszt rose for the third time and instead of sitting down mev. ed toward the platform. When he reached the piano, people were standing on theil seats besi1e themselves. The ladies tore the daffodils and lilies from their bosoms and flung them at him, and perfect shower ot flowers greeted the venerable master as he sat down. Then a stiffness as of death fell on the excited assembly. 1.isZt looked into the air in front of him. He was grave, dreamy, and like one who saw before him the forms and visions of long ago. Inexpressibly ten der, with a sigh as out of the past, the mus ic stole softly from the keys. It was his own exquisite transcription of Chopin'a ''Lithuanischer Lied"; it was not piano play ing; it was the whisper, the plaint, the med itation of soul, all the technique, though absolutely perfect, and the touch beyond compare, was entirely forgotten, as he seem ed to forget his fingers, and beckon to the dream figures that passed before him with expressive look and the kindling of quiet eye that saw things behind the veil we could net see But the mingled pathos and repose of the sweet memorial theme left the con- summate delicacy of the Chopinesque musi- cal eEnbroideries unimpaired. The multi tudes of little subsidiary notes slipped in like the spray of fountain broken in the wind. Liszt seemed scarcely to heed them:
 they fell about him, those wondrous passag-
 es, like magic; the noble face still looked in
 to the air-seemed to have nothing to do
 with the keyboard; the soul was far away
 in another world-a world of buried regrets of loves since grown cold in the sepulehre of youth blown out like the roses of past
 summers-aye and a world of old familiar faces seen only now in dreams, but seen
 calmly, with the quiet eyes that had looked on splendor and decay, and taken the meas
 ure of each unappalled, but at the close of
 that ''Lithuanischer Lied" there went up the piano a something wholly indescriba bic from the bass to the treble-a soft, melting flow of sound, not notes, but a mingling of notes. It was like gentle swelling ripple, that went yelling up the keyboard and ceas- ed only like a spent wave, breaking on lone strand, and leaving 8 silence as of twilight and ineffable rest. Liszt played yet more, after the first burst of applause had subsided Why attempt still further to describe that other improvised and majestic strain, that was like legend out of the older time, told by some Merlin to Vivien? A hardened critic-middle-aged and not easily pleased ''I should like to have cried outright,'' he said, Eff hadn't been ashamedl' As for myself, not only felt like people all round me, moved to tears while Liszt was playing the ''Lithuanischer Lied, D but for at least two hours afterward I had a peculiar choking
 sensation and perceptible quickening of the
 pulse as bits of it came floating into my head.
 The excitement of the students was unexam-
 pied. The two greatest virtuosi who have
 ever appeared, as far as we can at all gather,
 are Paganini and Liszt Few in that room
 could say they had heard Paganini-but
 Liszt in one of his sweetest, solemnest
 moods was, atall events, heard yesterday to
 perfection.
 understand Rubinstein's saying, ''There
 is only one pianist-Liszt." l understand
 Won Bulow's despair when he exclaimed, af-
 ter listening to his great master, "What bus mess have all we woodchoppers to play the
 r,iono-oftar bipo3 3'j