The Shadow of Great Britain

In the corridors of Buckingham Palace, the air seemed to be wrapped in heavy drapes, even the echo felt hesitant.

From afar came faint notes, the sound of the Royal Orchestra tuning their strings, sounding like a beast on the verge of suffocation, emitting intermittent breaths in its throat.

Talberg sat in front of the mirror, his posture as perfect and composed as ever, but the eyes in the mirror inadvertently betrayed the tension and anxiety within him.

Although he and Liszt were peers, both prodigious musical talents.

Yet there was evidently a gap between one prodigy and another.

Liszt became famous at thirteen during a concert at the Louvre Palace Theater in Paris, and at that time the media already began to compare him with Mozart, with all of Paris falling for him. This concert launched his dazzling tour career, with Liszt’s footsteps covering all of Europe in the following twelve years.

Even in Britain, Liszt’s reputation was not small, because as early as 1825, he had performed solo for George IV at Windsor Castle.

Talberg, on the other hand, held his first concert performance at fourteen in Vienna and achieved great success. After this, his mother, Baroness von Weitzlar, sent him to London to study piano under Ignaz Mozesales, music director of the London Philharmonic Association, alongside Felix Mendelssohn.

Though Talberg progressed quickly, in Mr. Moscheles’ tutelage, he clearly did not receive as much attention as Mendelssohn.

While Mendelssohn could already carry a whole concert in the London Philharmonic Association, Talberg was still serving as Arthur Hastings’s substitute pianist in the third orchestra.

It wasn’t until Arthur bid farewell to the stage that Talberg finally got the opportunity to soar.

A series of consecutive performances soon gained him significant popularity in London, and after succeeding in London, he embarked on the road to tour Europe.

In 1834, at just twenty-two, Talberg was awarded the title of ”court musician” by Austrian Emperor Francis I.

In 1836, he debuted at the Paris Conservatory Hall, and this sensational success made him famous in Europe within a short period.

However, his seemingly unstoppable upward momentum came to a sudden halt when Liszt returned to Paris after his vacation.

Less than a week after returning to Paris, Liszt immediately held a recital at the Erard Music Hall, announcing the return of the King of Piano to all Parisians.

As a retort to Liszt, just one week later, Talberg appeared in a series of musical evening performances hosted by Pierre Zimmermann, launching his counterattack.

But shortly after, on March 9, Liszt once again took to the stage, while Talberg chose to appear just three days later in the Paris Conservatory Hall, sparking a Talberg frenzy. The applause was so prolonged that Talberg couldn’t complete the planned pieces, and afterward, the Paris media raved about his exquisite and awe-inspiring piano skills, calling them miraculous.

It was evident that the proud King of Piano wouldn’t rest after seeing such reports.

Seven days later, Liszt lavishly rented the opera house, with three thousand seats, to hold a daytime concert with an orchestra on March 19, not only filling every seat but also successfully breaking Talberg’s record of single concert income of thirteen thousand Francs in Paris.

From the surface, Liszt and Talberg seemed evenly matched, going back and forth, with neither able to prove who was superior.

Until the night of March 31...

If he had another choice, Talberg wasn’t sure if he would still attend that charity concert for Italian exiles...

Indeed, dear Princess Christina Belchiosso’s comments perhaps weren’t malicious, and judging from the performance that night, her verdict was undoubtedly fair.

”Portrait of Princess Christina Belchiosso by Italian painter Francesco Hayez, painted in 1831.”

Yet the statement ”Talberg is a top pianist, while Liszt is unparalleled” still stung Talberg’s heart and damaged his reputation in the music world.

Talberg stared at himself in the mirror.

Those hands, long, perfect, never making mistakes, now had an almost imperceptible tremble.

The gap between ”top” and ”unparalleled” seemed small, but the weight was enough to crush his self-esteem.

He slowly raised his hand, looking at the program sheet filled with creases, as if asking himself: ”Tonight, will you win, or will you remain that ’top’ person again?”

Taking a deep breath, just as he was about to rise, there was a gentle knock on the door outside.

”Who?”

”Apologies for the interruption, Sigi, I’m Arthur Hastings.”

Talberg froze.

Almost instinctively, he stood up, the chair legs scraping over the carpet with a dull sound.

He quickly walked to the door and opened it.

The person standing outside wore a deep black tailcoat, a pure white vest, and a white cravat, along with fitting trousers and a sleek backcombed hairstyle.

In that moment, Talberg seemed a bit puzzled, as if time had rewound seven years, back to the days when he served as Arthur’s substitute pianist.