forte virtuosos was
unquestionably Sigismond Thalberg, an artist who made a profound
sensation in two hemispheres, and filled a large space in the musical
world for more than forty-five years. Originally a disciple of the
Viennese school of piano-forte playing, a pupil of Mosche-les, and a
rigid believer in making the instrument which was the medium of his
talent sufficient unto itself, wholly indifferent to the daring and
boundless ambition which made his great rival, Franz Liszt, pile Pelion
on Ossa in his grasp after new effects, Thalberg developed virtuoso-ism
to its extreme degree by a mechanical dexterity which was perhaps
unrivaled. But the fingers can not express more than rests in the heart
and brain to give to their skill, and Thalberg, with all his immense
talent, seems to have lacked the divine spark of genius. It goes without
saying, to those who are familiar with the current cant of criticism,
that the word genius is often applied in a very loose and misleading
manner. But, in all estimates of art and artists, where there are two
clearly defined factors, imagination or formative power and technical
dexterity, it would seem that there should not be any error in deciding
on the propriety of such a word as a measure of the quality of an
artist's gifts. The lack of the creative impulse could not be mistaken
in Thalberg's work, whether as player or composer. But the ability to
execute all that came within the scope of his sympathies or intelligence
was so prodigious that the world was easily dazzled into forgetting
his deficiencies in the loftier regions of art. Trifles are often very
significant. What, for example, could more vividly portray an artist's
tendencies than the description of Thalberg by Moscheles, who knew him
more thoroughly than any other contemporary, and felt a keener sympathy
with his _genre_ as an artist than with the more striking originality of
Chopin and Liszt. Moscheles writes:

"I find his introduction of harp effects on the piano quite original.
His theme, which lies in the middle part, is brought out clearly in
relief with an accompaniment of complicated arpeggios which reminds me
of a harp. The audience is amazed. He himself sits immovably calm;
his whole bearing as he sits at the piano is soldierlike; his lips are
tightly compressed and his coat buttoned closely. He told me he acquired
this attitude of self-control by smoking a Turkish pipe while practicing
his piano-forte exercises