Beethoven stands as the model of constructive power and emotional expression in happy equipoise. Both the head and the heart are satisfactorily employed, and in his orchestral treatment they find full expression. This is true of all of his concerted works; but his weak point is manifested in his pianoforte compositions, especially in the sonatas, which are not idiomatic of the instrument for which they were written. It is not intended to find fault with the music _per se_. It is simply to say that his ideas are all orchestrally conceived, and as they are not in the nature of the pianoforte, that instrument is inadequate to their true expression. The sonatas are not pianistic, idiomatic--_klaviermaessig_. Had he written them for orchestra, we would have had thirty-two symphonies. Chopin's compositions are the very essence and consummation of the piano, and he is, therefore, the pianoforte composer _par excellence_. On the other hand, his orchestral work is weak and incompetent, as, for example, the accompaniment to his concertos and some other pieces. Schumann is at home in both directions. He is polyphonic in orchestral treatment, and at the same time thoroughly pianistic. Without suggesting comparisons, his music is _musical_ and complete. Beethoven's is heroic. ENTERTAINING LISZT'S "YOUNG BEETHOVEN" Liszt sometimes left Weimar for a few days in order to be present at or to conduct music festivals. On one of these occasions, early in June, 1854, I remained alone at home on account of slight illness. As Klindworth had gone to London for concert-playing and pianoforte-teaching, I had moved into a suite of rooms in the Hotel zum Erbprinzen. As a matter of interest to pianists I here note the fact that these identical rooms had been occupied by Hummel several years previously. On the afternoon of the day on which Liszt left with his cortege the head waiter came to me, saying that a young man who had just arrived was in the cafe inquiring for Liszt and seemed disappointed on learning of his absence. "I told him," said the waiter, "that you were the only one of the family here. Will you see him?" I assented, and in a few moments he ushered in a young man about twenty-four years of age, of strong features and with a great shock of dark hair, who introduced himself as Anton Rubinstein. I explained to him that Liszt had gone away for three or four days to conduct a festival, that I could not say precisely when he would return; but in the meantime, if I could make him feel at home, I should be very glad. After some conversation he asked me to play. I remember very well how he looked sitting on the sofa, and the position of the piano in the room. I played, but he did not. I had a suspicion that he was inveigling me into playing without any intention of allowing me to take his measure. He sat there like a gruff Russian bear; or perhaps my imagination helped to produce this impression.