The virtuoso, however, whose appearance caused the greatest sensation was Thalberg.  The Gazette musicale announced his arrival on November 8, 1835.  He was first heard at M. Zimmermann’s; Madame Viardot-Garcia, Duprez, and De Beriot being the other artists that took active parts in the soiree.  The enthusiasm which Thalberg on this occasion as well as subsequently excited was immense.  The Menestrel expressed the all but unanimous opinion when, on March 13, 1836, it said:  “Thalberg is not only the first pianist in the world, but he is also a most distinguished composer.”  His novel effects astonished and delighted his hearers.  The pianists showed their appreciation by adopting their confrere’s manipulations and treatment of the piano as soon as these ceased to puzzle them; the great majority of the rising Parisian pianists became followers of Thalberg, nor were some of the older ones slow in profiting by his example.  The most taking of the effects which Thalberg brought into vogue was the device of placing the melody in the middle—­i.e., the most sonorous part of the instrument—­and dividing it so between the hands that they could at the same time accompany it with full chords and brilliant figures.  Even if he borrowed the idea from the harpist Parish-Alvars, or from the pianist Francesco G. Pollini, there remains to him the honour of having improved the invention of his forerunners and applied it with superior ability.  His greatness, however, does not solely or even mainly rest on this or any other ingeniously-contrived and cleverly-performed trick.  The secret of his success lay in the aristocratic nature of his artistic personality, in which exquisite elegance and calm self-possession reigned supreme.  In accordance with this fundamental disposition were all the details of his style of playing.  His execution was polished to the highest degree; the evenness of his scales and the clearness of his passages and embellishments could not be surpassed.  If sensuous beauty is the sole end of music, his touch must be pronounced the ideal of perfection, for it extracted the essence of beauty.  Strange as the expression “unctuous sonorousness” may sound, it describes felicitously a quality of a style of playing from which roughness, harshness, turbulence, and impetuosity were altogether absent.  Thalberg has been accused of want of animation, passion, in short, of soul; but as Ambros remarked with great acuteness—­

Thalberg’s compositions and playing had soul, a salon soul to be sure, somewhat like that of a very elegant woman of the world, who, nevertheless, has really a beautiful disposition [Gemueth], which, however, is prevented from fully showing itself by the superexquisiteness of her manners.

This simile reminds me of a remark of Heine’s, who thought that Thalberg distinguished himself favourably from other pianists by what he (Heine) felt inclined to call “his musical conduct [Betragen].”  Here are some more of the poet-critic’s remarks on the same subject:—­