There is an amusing passage in Von Lenz’s book[37] on the great virtuosos. It was written in connection with Tausig, almost twenty years after the death of Chopin. ‘His [Tausig’s] distinguishing characteristic was,’ he wrote, ‘that he never played for _effect_, but was always absorbed in the piece itself and its artistic interpretation. This objectivity the general public never understood; whenever serpents are strangled, it always wants to know just how big and dangerous they are, and judges of this by the performer’s behavior. The general public thinks that whatever appears easily surmounted, is not really difficult, and that son or daughter at home might do it just as well!’ The opera fantasias and variations of Herz, of Thalberg, and even of Liszt had the advantage, from the manager’s point of view, of making self-evident the bigness and dangerousness of the serpent; for, that which was added to the familiar tune was no less than fangs, coils, and fiery breath of the beast itself, which the knight of the piano both created and destroyed. II As there were soldiers of fortune who, like Herz, made up by an abundance of shrewd and witty sense, what they lacked in refinement, there were others, like Sigismund Thalberg, whose outstanding quality was elegance. Von Lenz called Thalberg the ‘only correct “gentleman rider” of the piano.’ This may be taken to refer to his playing rather than to his compositions. It was most beautiful playing, according to all testimony, perfectly smooth, clear, sonorous, liquid, singing, enriched by every quality, in fact, which may be derived from a perfect and delicate mechanism governed by a fine ear. As a player he was by many preferred to Liszt. This was a purely sensuous preference, based entirely upon the qualities of sound which the two men were able to win from the piano. In this regard Liszt and Thalberg may be considered rivals of an equal endowment.