Paris of the 1830s was swarming with superstar pianists, who drifted from recital to salon with the grace and mystique of cinematic gunslingers. On this date in 1837, the two most mythologized virtuosi of the day, Franz Liszt and Sigismond Thalberg, were brought together at the home of Princess Cristina Belgiojoso-Trivulzio, an Italian patriot living in exile, to prove once and for all who was the King of the Keys.
The duel would prove to be a clash of styles and temperaments. In contrast to Liszt’s humble beginnings and acquired polish, Thalberg was an aristocrat by association, having been taking under the wing of a wealthy patroness very early on. A large part of his allure was in his unruffled appearance. He was handsome, educated, genteel. At the piano, he remained absolutely placid, sitting as still as possible while performing the most incredible, acrobatic feats.
One of his much remarked upon, crowd-pleasing effects was his ability to simulate the sound of three hands, which he was able to accomplish by picking out a melody with his thumbs and using the rest of his fluttering digitals to ornament with brilliant arpeggios and arabesques. Matters of showmanship aside, his legato was of such beauty that even Liszt commented, “Thalberg is the only artist who can play the violin on the piano.”
Liszt, by contrast, was a fire-eater, who would literally destroy pianos on the stage of the Paris Opera before an audience of 3000. His playing had ladies clawing at one another to retrieve a glove or a cigar calculatedly left behind after a concert.
Partisans and newspaper critics long speculated on who was the greater pianist. The flame of animosity was fanned by rival journalists, as Hector Berlioz (who embraced Liszt) and critic and musicologist Francois-Joseph Fétis (who championed Thalberg) played out their latest grudge match, polarizing music-lovers into two camps.
As the debate grew in intensity, it seemed that whenever one was in town, the other was on tour or vacationing. It all finally came to a head on the morning of March 31, 1837, at Belgiojoso-Trivulzio’s salon, in a war of the gargantuas engineered for charity. March definitely went out like a lion that year, as two titans of the keyboard faced off in the ultimate piano showdown.
The verdict was diplomatic: the princess declared Thalberg the finest pianist in the world; Liszt, she proclaimed, the ONLY pianist.
Popular tradition holds that Liszt mopped the floor with Thalberg, but apparently this wasn’t entirely the case. Nor was there any apparent animosity between the two men, who were cordial and even dined together several times after their legendary face-off. The two would collaborate, along with Chopin and three others, on one of Belgiojoso’s other schemes, the keyboard crazy quilt “Hexameron,” which Liszt titled, orchestrated, and toured with. Proceeds generated from both the duel and the “Hexameron” project went to the benefit of Italian refugees.
An ironic epilogue to this story: in 2017, Thalberg’s final resting place, in Naples, was desecrated, his mummified corpse tossed callously into the corner of a vault. You can wade through a dizzying array of fonts and italics to learn more here:
On a related note, as today is also the birthday of Franz Joseph Haydn, it is perhaps worth noting, as I have on this page several times in the past, that for 150 years Haydn had no head.
Thalberg transcribed a chorus from Haydn’s “The Seasons” as part of his collection “L’art du chant appliqué au piano” (“The Art of Singing Applied on Piano”), Op. 70. You can listen to the complete set of primarily operatic transcriptions if you want to, but I’ve cued the link to jump right to the relevant movement.
For Liszt’s part, the pianist Alfred Brendel drew a parallel with Haydn in his introduction to a certain Liszt biography:
“Arguably, Liszt and Haydn are the most frequently misunderstood among major composers; their biographers afford little food for pity.… In old age, Haydn reigned over the musical world as its undisputed leading light. For this, the nineteenth century punished him – as it punished Liszt for his undisputed supremacy as a performer.… Not until our century did a greater number of composers – from Richard Strauss, Ravel, and Busoni to Schoenberg, Bartók, and Boulez – appreciate Liszt by taking him seriously.”
“Hexameron,” six variations on a theme from Bellini’s “I puritani.” Five well-known composer-pianists – Frédéric Chopin, Carl Czerny, Henri Herz, Johann Peter Pixis and Sigismond Thalberg – each contributed a variation. Liszt composed the introduction, second variation, interludes, and finale, and integrated the piece into an artistic unity.
