Like all people of strong constitution, he lives in continual expectation of death; a cold in his head—he is a doomed man; a little extra fatigue—his days are closing in; a slight cough—he is ready to say good-bye. But sympathy will do much to woo him back to health; a sweet face will tide him over the danger, and a good story even restore him to life.

Transparent as a child, his face is the index of his mood. There—and indeed not only there, but in his whole figure, which unconsciously obeys the trend of his mind—his thoughts are inevitably reflected. In two or three moments he will become as many different people; dry, derisive, dejected, gentle, earnest, even tender—his waywardness is difficult to follow. It is rare to meet with a temperament so rich in contrasts, so full of unexpected developments. He lives a thousand lives, going through sufficient experiences in a year to enrich an ordinary person's lifetime. Yet beneath this kaleidoscopic surface lie those qualities that have made his work what it is: unfailing patience, earnestness, inflexible will, keen interest, and complete, unswerving concentration.

His whole being is bound up in his music, and his ideals of it are as bright now as they were fifty years ago. The Principles of Music Study are to him as important and interesting as the Principles of the Universe were to Newton or Herbert Spencer; and it is this firm belief in the necessity of his work, and his loving devotion to it, that have made him the greatest teacher of the piano that the world has ever had.

Transcriber's Notes

The transcriber made these changes to the text: