'Euryanthe.' The work will form no. 6 of Series XV, in the complete critical edition of Schubert, announced by Messrs. Breitkopfs.
TEUTSCHE. Mozart's way of spelling Deutsche, i.e. Deutsche Tänze—little German waltzes in 3-8 or 3-4, of which he, Beethoven, and Schubert, wrote many. For Schubert's 'Atzenbrucker Deutsche, July 1821,' see vol. iii. p. 334b. The famous 'Trauer-Waltzer,' sometimes called 'Le Désir' (op. 9, no. 2), for long attributed to Beethoven, is a Teutsch. [Allemande, no. 2, vol. i. p. 55 b.]
THALBERG, Sigismond, one of the most successful virtuosi of this century, was born at Geneva—according to his biographer, Mendel, on May 5, according to Fétis on Jan. 7, according to a brother of his now established at Vienna, on Feb. 7, 1812. Being the son of Prince Dietrichstein, who had many wives without being married, Thalberg had several brothers of different family names. The one just mentioned is Mr. Leitzinger, three months older than Thalberg—a fact which speaks for itself. Another half-brother of his is Baron Denner. Thalberg's mother was the Baroness Wetzlar, a highly-educated lady, full of talent, who took the greatest care of Thalberg's early education. In Geneva he remained in the pension Siciliewski under the guidance of a governess, Mme. Denver, and the superintendence of his mother. This Mme. Denver, and Müller—a Frenchman, although his name be German—took Thalberg to Vienna to his father's palace. He was then just 10 years old. The Prince was so fond of him that he gave up an Ambassador's appointment to devote all his time to the education of 'Sigi' (this was his pet-name). Thalberg showed a great aptitude for music and languages, and was destined by his father to become a diplomatist, and with a view to this had the best masters to teach him. If a friendly—perhaps too friendly—source is to be credited, he made rapid progress, especially in Greek and geography, which may account for the curious collection of maps with which he adorned his room at Naples. His first success dates back so far as 1826, when he was 14 years old, and played at an evening party at Prince Clemens Metternich's, the then master of the diplomatic world, of whom it is said that, when a lady, a great patroness of music, asked him whether it was true that he was not fond of music, he replied:—'Oh, Madame, je ne la crains pas!' About Thalberg's piano teachers a number of divergent reports are current; but it is certain that he learned from Mittag, and that the great organist and harmonist, Sechter, the first German who simplified and most clearly demonstrated the principles of harmony, taught him counterpoint. Fétis's statements about Thalberg are not sufficiently verified. Czerny never taught him, though he gave five or six lessons to Franz Liszt. The first opportunity which offered for Thalberg's celebrity was in 1833, at a soirée given by Count Apponyi, then Austrian Ambassador at Paris, and later Austrian Ambassador in London. Thalberg was then 21 years old, of an agreeable aristocratic appearance, refined manners, very witty; only a trifle too much given to making puns, an amusement rather easy in French, and in which foreigners too much indulge. Kind-hearted, and uncommonly careful not to say an incautious word which might hurt any one's feelings, he became at once the ladies' pet—and what that means in Paris, those who know French society will not undervalue. His innovations on the piano were of the smallest possible importance; he invented forms and effects. He had wonderfully formed fingers, the forepart of which were real little cushions. This formation and very persevering study enabled Thalberg to produce such wonderful legatos, that Liszt said of him, 'Thalberg is the only artist, who can play the violin on the keyboard.' When he played for the first time in public, at Vienna, 1829, his touch and expression at once conquered the audience, but even then principally the ladies. In Paris his winning manners and the touch of scientific education, which with adroit modesty he knew how to show under pretence of concealing it, contributed as much as his talent to render him the talk of the day. Thalberg was so fond of music that he overcame Prince Dietrichstein's idea of a diplomatic career, by dint of earnest determination. He often left his bed at three o'clock in the morning to practise his piano, and those who heard him privately and knew him intimately were much more apt to estimate the ease with which he overcame difficulties, than those were who heard him play his compositions in public. Among all great piano-players, it should be said of him, as Catalani said of Sontag: 'His genre was not great, but he was great in his genre.' He was amiable, both as a man and as a performer. It was certainly a curious anomaly that while he so earnestly preached against the mania of the century to sacrifice everything to effect, the gist of his art, the aim and purpose of all his musical studies, was nothing but to produce effect.
In his career as a composer of operas, two events, both unfortunate, must be mentioned. His opera 'Cristina' was a dead failure. 'Florinda,' which was performed under Balfe's direction in London in 1851, with Cruvelli, Sims Reeves, Lablache, was, as an eyewitness states, by the best critics of the time found ugly, difficult to sing, uninteresting. Even the song which was the hit of the evening, so well sung by Sims Reeves that it created a genuine success, was, to say the least, unhandsome. The Queen and Prince Albert headed a most brilliant assembly, and everything was done that could make the work acceptable, but the thin stuff of the score could not be sustained. The story was badly told, the music devoid of interesting ideas, and so the fate of the opera was sealed; partly, it was asserted by Thalberg's friends, Mme. Cruvelli bore the fault of the non-success, because, not being pleased with her rôle, she deliberately sacrificed it, and at one moment hummed her air instead of singing it; so much so, that a person sitting in the front row of the
