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.