As in life so also in art, Thalberg manifests innate tact; his execution is so gentlemanlike, so opulent, so decorous, so entirely without grimace, so entirely without forced affectation of genius [forcirtes Genialthun], so entirely without that boastful boorishness which badly conceals the inner pusillanimity...He enchants by balsamic euphony, by sobriety and gentleness....There is only one I prefer.  That is Chopin.

As a curiosity I must quote a passage from a letter dated July 10, 1836, and addressed by George Sand to the Comtesse d’Agoult.  Feelings of friendship, and, in one case at least, of more than friendship, made these ladies partial to another prince of the keyboard:—­

I have heard Thalberg in Paris.  He made on me the impression of a good little child, very nice and very well-behaved.  There are hours when Franz [Liszt], while amusing himself, trifles [badine], like him, on some notes in order to let the furious elements afterwards loose on this gentle breeze.

Liszt, who was at the time of Thalberg’s visit to Paris in Switzerland, doubted the correctness of the accounts which reached him of this virtuoso’s achievements.  Like Thomas he would trust only his own senses; and as his curiosity left him no rest, he betook himself in March, 1836, to Paris.  But, unfortunately, he arrived too late, Thalberg having quitted the capital on the preceding day.  The enthusiastic praises which were everywhere the answer to his inquiries about Thalberg irritated Liszt, and seemed to him exaggerations based on delusions.  To challenge criticism and practically refute the prevalent opinion, he gave two private soirees, one at Pleyel’s and another at Erard’s, both of which were crowded, the latter being attended by more than four hundred people.  The result was a brilliant victory, and henceforth there were two camps.  The admiration and stupefaction of those who heard him were extraordinary; for since his last appearance Liszt had again made such enormous progress as to astonish even his most intimate friends.  In answer to those who had declared that with Thalberg a new era began, Berlioz, pointing to Liszt’s Fantasia on I Pirati and that on themes from La Juive, now made the counter-declaration that “this was the new school of pianoforte-playing.”  Indeed, Liszt was only now attaining to the fulness of his power as a pianist and composer for his instrument; and when after another sojourn in Switzerland he returned in December, 1836, to Paris, and in the course of the season entered the lists with Thalberg, it was a spectacle for the gods.  “Thalberg,” writes Leon Escudier, “est la grace, comme Liszt la force; le jeu de l’un est blond, celui de l’autre est brun.”  A lady who heard the two pianists at a concert for the Italian poor, given in the salons of the Princess Belgiojoso, exclaimed:  “Thalberg est le premier pianiste du monde.”—­“Et Liszt?” asked the person to whom the words were