Brand me a heretic, but I have never really cared for the cello playing of Pablo Casals. Sure, he was a major force in 20th-century music, and I greatly admired his anti-Fascist stance. But as a practitioner of his art, he was sloppy. Nor do I believe the claims of hagiographers and record-company executives that the young Casals miraculously resurrected the music of Johann Sebastian Bach one afternoon after stumbling across the six suites for solo cello in a Barcelona bookstore. His championing of them certainly increased their popularity, though.

If Casals is at one end of the accuracy spectrum, then Yo-Yo Ma anchors the other. Each one of Mr. Ma’s performances is marked by controlled intensity and a superb combination of emotional elocution and tightly reinedin technique. It is this dual mastery that makes his youthful recording of the Bach Sonatas for viola da gamba with harpsichordist Kenneth Cooper such a treasure.

On Wednesday night, Mr. Ma took on three of the six Bach suites that will forever be associated with Casals. To perform this intimate, one-instrument music at cavernous Carnegie Hall is a dangerous undertaking. Nevertheless, a sold-out crowd bore witness to Mr. Ma’s artistry – or was it foolhardiness?

As it turned out, the great cellist was not alone onstage: About 100 of his closest friends were seated around him in order for Carnegie to handle the overflow crowd. Immediately, Mr. Ma served notice that he would be projecting sotto voce.His soft intonation of the Suite No. 3 alerted fans that some assiduous listening was in order.Allowing his superb timbre and resonance to do his projecting for him, Mr. Ma never resorted to percussive techniques, exaggerated bowing, or volumes above mezzo forte.

This music is instantly familiar on two levels. First, its beautiful mathematical symmetry follows such a logical pattern that the listener anticipates certain notes that, when they appear, produce smiles of radiant self-congratulation. Second, each suite is constructed in binary form in which dances are paired and then reprised in an unvarying pattern. Almost immediately, we are hearing familiar music.

Mr. Ma beamed beatifically throughout. If he were an opera singer, I might describe him as comfortable in his own skin. As an instrumentalist, he seems quite appreciative of being an equal partner with his cello. And it shows.

The C minor (No. 5) is the most cerebral of the lot and considerably darker in tone than any of its companions. Mr. Ma launched into his best performance of the evening for its prelude, a brooding, deeply religious journey that reminded me of how that most spiritual of composers, Anton Bruckner, used to commence each of his composing days by playing Bach preludes at his piano. Again the presentation of the dances was bathed in quietude. I wondered how the people in the balcony were far ing at this low decibel level, and occasionally looked heavenward to check. They were as rapt as the rest of us.

Imagine that you broke a string and then had to play for 25 minutes nonstop. This is the equivalent of tackling the No. 6 in D major, which Bach wrote for a five-string gamba. The additional string was on the high end, above the modern A string, and was given the lion’s share of the melody part. For any current player, this is the most challenging of the set. Mr. Ma handled it with great aplomb, making the entire experience transparent for his devotees.

At the same time, Mr. Ma tried his best not to modernize these pieces any more than is implied by their being offered on a different instrument from that of Bach’s original patron. To a listener weaned on the Romantic period, many of these melodies cry out for dynamic variation, especially when catchy phrases are reprised. But Mr. Ma would have none of that, and he pre served unanimity of volume throughout. By the time he got around to this last suite, his playing had dropped down to mezzo piano at its peak, pianissimo at its bottom.

This was the playing of a master. Mr. Ma’s recital was authoritative, authentic, and scholarly. This was not the most accurate performance in memory,but for such mastery, the public should be willing to forgive a few squeaks and squawks. They certainly did for Casals.