what applause there was, came from gratitude that the end of the lengthy work had been reached, rather than from appreciation of the work itself. Not satisfied with this half-hearted applause, Bülow turned to the audience and said:—
"What, do you not like it? I will teach you to!" and ordered a repetition of the whole work. Succeeding audiences applauded Brahms' symphonies out of sheer self-defense, if for no other reason.
145.—UNFAILING SIGHT READING AN IMPOSSIBILITY.
Very frequently we hear of people who "can read anything at sight." Such people are more rare than the frequency of this claim would lead us to suppose. In fact, if one real, good, live example of the man who can read anything at sight were to be produced he would find that he had no competitors in the field. This may seem a strong statement. There are so many who can read almost anything that may be put before them that, when reading of their prowess in this line, we are apt to think they have accomplished that which we may almost say no man has yet done. We hear of the great feats of Liszt, Mendelssohn, Mozart, and others. But by all accounts Bach was their superior in reading and execution, and here is Bach's experience.
Bach was certainly a giant in composition and performance. His memory was prodigious, his playing unapproachable. He himself began to think he was invincible and frequently expressed to a friend his belief that he could play anything at sight. The friend had great faith in Bach's abilities, but could not quite swallow that. So one day he laid a trap for him. Selecting a certain piece of music that was much more difficult in reality than it was in appearance, he laid it with others on his organ desk. Then he invited Bach to breakfast, and while he was arranging the meal, Bach, as was his custom, sat down to look over the music that happened to
