III.

Soon after Liszt's connection with Mme. D'Agoult began, he retired with

his devoted companion to Geneva, Switzerland, a city always celebrated

in the annals of European literature and art. In the quiet and charming

atmosphere of this city our artist spent two years, busy for the most

part in composing. He had already attained a superb rank as a pianist,

and of those virtuosos who had then exhibited their talents in Paris

no one was considered at all worthy to be compared with Liszt except

Chopin. Aside from the great mental grasp, the opulent imagination, the

fire and passion, the dazzling technical skill of the player, there was

a vivid personality in Liszt as a man which captivated audiences. This

element dominated his slightest action. He strode over the concert

stage with the haughty step of a despot who ruled with a sway not to be

contested. Tearing his gloves from his fingers and hurling them on

the piano, he would seat himself with a proud gesture, run his fingers

through his waving blonde locks, and then attack the piano with the

vehemence of a conqueror taking his army into action. Much of this

manner was probably the outcome of natural temperament, something the

result of affectation; but it helped to add to the glamour with which

Liszt always held his audiences captive. When he left Paris for a

studious retirement at Geneva, the throne became vacant. By and by there

came a contestant for the seat, a player no less remarkable in many

respects than Liszt himself, Sigismond Thalberg, whose performances

aroused Paris, alert for a new sensation, into an enthusiasm which

quickly mounted to boiling heat. Humors of the danger threatened to his

hitherto acknowledged ascendancy reached Liszt in his Swiss retreat. The

artist's ambition was stirred to the quick; he could not sleep at night

with the thought of this victorious rival who was snatching his laurels,

and he hastened back to Paris to meet Thalberg on his own ground.

The latter, however, had already left Paris, and Liszt only felt the

ground-swell of the storm he had raised. There was a hot division of

opinion among the Parisians, as there had been in the days of Gluck and

Piccini. Society was divided into Lisztians and Thalbergians, and to

indulge in this strife was the favorite amusement of the fashionable

world. Liszt proceeded to reestablish his place by a series of

remarkable concerts, in which he introduced to the public some of the

works wrought out during his retirement, among them transcriptions from

the songs of Schubert and the symphonies of Beethoven, in which the most

free and passionate poetic spirit was expressed through the medium of

technical difficulties in the scoring before unknown to the art of the

piano-forte. There can be no doubt that the influence of Thalberg's

rivalry on Liszt's mind was a strong force, and suggested new

combinations. Without having heard Thalberg, our artist had already

divined the secret of his effects, and borrowed from them enough to give

a new impulse to an inventive faculty which was fertile in expedients

and quick to assimilate all things of value to the uses of its own

insatiable ambition.

Franz Liszt's career as a traveling virtuoso commenced in 1837, and

lasted for twelve years. Hitherto he had resisted the impulsion to

such a course, all his desires rushing toward composition, but the

extraordinary rewards promised cooperated with the spur of rivalry to

overcome all scruples. The first year of these art travels was made

memorable by the great inundation of the Danube, which caused so much

suffering at Pesth. Thousands of people were rendered homeless, and

the scene was one that appealed piteously to the humanitarian mind. The

heart of Franz Liszt burned with sympathy, and he devoted the proceeds

of his concerts for nearly two months to the alleviation of the woes of

his countrymen. A princely sum was contributed by the artist, which went

far to assist the sufferers. The number of occasions on which Liszt

gave his services to charity was legion. It is credibly stated that the

amount of benefactions contributed by his benefit concerts, added to the

immense sums which he directly disbursed, would have made him several

times a millionaire.

The blaze of enthusiasm which Liszt kindled made his track luminous

throughout the musical centers of Europe. Cæsar-like, his very arrival

was a victory, for it aroused an indescribable ferment of agitation,

which rose at his concerts to wild excesses. Ladies of the highest rank

tore their gloves to strips in the ardor of their applause, flung

their jewels on the stage instead of bouquets, shrieked in ecstasy and

sometimes fainted, and made a wild rush for the stage at the close of

the music to see Liszt, and obtain some of the broken strings of the

piano, which the artist had ruined in the heat of his play, as precious

relics of the occasion. The stories told of the Liszt craze among the

ladies of Germany and Russia are highly amusing, and have a value as

registering the degree of the effect he produced on impressible minds.

Even sober and judicious critics who knew well whereof they spoke

yielded to the contagion. Schumann writes of him, _apropos_ of his

Dresden and Leipzig concerts in 1840: "The whole audience greeted his

appearance with an enthusiastic storm of applause, and then he began to

play. I had heard him before, but an artist is a different thing in the

presence of the public compared with what he appears in the presence of

a few. The fine open space, the glitter of light, the elegantly dressed

audience--all this elevates the frame of mind in the giver and receiver.

And now the demon's power began to awake; he first played with the

public as if to try it, then gave it something more profound, until

every single member was enveloped in his art; and then the whole mass

began to rise and fall precisely as he willed it. I never found any

artist except Paga-nini to possess in so high a degree this power of

subjecting, elevating, and leading the public. It is an instantaneous

variety of wildness, tenderness, boldness, and airy grace; the

instrument glows under the hand of its master.... It is most easy to

speak of his outward appearance. People have often tried to picture

this by comparing Liszt's head to Schiller's or Napoleon's; and the

comparison so far holds good, in that extraordinary men possess certain

traits in common, such as an expression of energy and strength of will

in the eyes and mouth. He has some resemblance to the portraits of

Napoleon as a young general, pale, thin, with a remarkable profile,

the whole significance of his appearance culminating in his head. While

listening to Liszt's playing, I have often almost imagined myself as

listening to one I heard long before. But this art is scarcely to be

described. It is not this or that style of piano-forte playing; it is

rather the outward expression of a daring character, to whom Fate has

given as instruments of victory and command, not the dangerous weapon of

war, but the peaceful ones of art. No matter how many and great artists

we possess or have seen pass before us of recent years, though some of

them equal him in single points, all must yield to him in energy and

boldness. People have been very fond of placing Thalberg in the lists

beside him, and then drawing comparisons. But it is only necessary to

look at both heads to come to a conclusion. I remember the remark of

a Viennese designer who said, not inaptly, that his countryman's head

resembled that of a handsome countess with a man's nose, while of Liszt

he observed that he might sit to every painter for a Grecian god. There

is a similar difference in their art. Chopin stands nearer to Liszt as a

player, for at least he loses nothing beside him in fairy-like grace and

tenderness; next to him Paganini, and, among women, Mme. Malibran; from

these Liszt himself says he has learned the most.... Liszt's most genial

performance was yet to come, Weber's 'Concert-stuck,' which he played

at the second performance. Virtuoso and public seemed to be in the

freshest mood possible on that evening, and the enthusiasm during and

after his playing almost exceeded anything hitherto known here. Although

Liszt grasped the piece from the begin-ing with such force and grandeur

that an attack on the battle-field seemed to be in question, yet he

carried this on with continually increasing power, until the passage

where the player seems to stand at the summit of the orchestra, leading

it forward in triumph. Here, indeed, he resembled that great commander

to whom he has been compared, and the tempestuous applause that greeted

him was not unlike an adoring 'Vive l'Empereur.'"

Flattering to his pride, however, as were the universal honors bestowed

on the artist, none were so grateful as those from his own countrymen.

The philanthropy of his conduct had made a deep impression on the

Hungarians. Two cities, Pesth and Odenburg, created him an honorary

citizen; a patent of nobility was solicited for him by the _comitat_ of

Odenburg; and the "sword of honor," according to Hungarian custom, was

presented to him with due solemnities. A brief account from an Hungarian

journal of the time is of interest.

"The national feeling of the Magyars is well known; and proud are they

of that star of the first magnitude which arose out of their nation.

Over the countries of Europe the fame of the Hungarian Liszt came to

them before they had as yet an opportunity of admiring him. The Danube

was swollen by rains, Pesth was inundated, thousands were mourning

the loss of friends and relations or of all their property. During

his absence in Milan Liszt learned that many of his countrymen were

suffering from absolute want. His resolution was taken. The smiling

heaven of Italy, the _dolce far niente_ of Southern life, could not

detain him. The following morning he had quitted Milan and was on his

way to Vienna. He performed for the benefit of those who had suffered

by the inundation at Pesth. His art was the horn of plenty from which

streamed forth blessings for the afflicted. Eighteen months afterward he

came to Pesth, not as the artist in search of pecuniary advantage,

but as a Magyar. He played for the Hungarian national theatre, for the

musical society, for the poor of Pesth and of Odenburg, always before

crowded houses, and the proceeds, fully one hundred thousand francs,

were appropriated for these purposes. Who can wonder that admiration

and pride should arise to enthusiasm in the breasts of his grateful

countrymen? He was complimented by serenades, garlands were thrown

to him; in short, the whole population of Pesth neglected nothing to

manifest their respect, gratitude, and affection. But these honors,

which might have been paid to any other artist of high distinction, did

not satisfy them. They resolved to bind him for ever to the Hungarian

nation from which he sprang. The token of manly honor in Hungary is

a sword, for every Magyar has the right to wear a sword, and avails

himself of that right. It was determined that their celebrated

countryman should be presented with the Hungarian sword of honor. The

noblemen appeared at the theatre, in the rich costume they usually wear

before the emperor, and presented Liszt, midst thunders of applause from

the whole assembled people, with a costly sword of honor." It was also

proposed to erect a bronze statue of him in Pesth, but Liszt persuaded

his countrymen to give the money to a struggling young artist instead.