Franz Liszt
(1811-1886)
Complete Piano Music,
Volume 1
I consider Liszt the
greatest man I have ever met. By this I mean that I have never met, in any
other walk of life, a man with the mental grasp, splendid disposition, and
glorious genius. This may seem a somewhat extravagant statement. I have met
many, many great men, rulers, jurists, authors, scientists, teachers, merchants
and warriors, but never have I met a man in any position whom I have not
thought would have proved the inferior of Franz Liszt, had Liszt chosen to
follow the career of the man in question. Liszt's personality can only be
expressed by one word, "colossal. "
-Alfred Reisenauer
(1863-1907), German pianist, composer, teacher and Liszt student.
Franz Liszt's
influence on the nineteenth century was overwhelming and through his numerous
students, his strong musical presence influenced piano performance and
composition into the twentieth century. His works inspired many of the
composers of his time and Liszt was able, during his years as a touring
virtuoso, to promote their compositions as well as those of his own. Later, in
his position as head of the Weimar orchestra and opera-house, he was an important
influence on current tastes, tirelessly promoting the works of his
contemporaries. In his later years, Liszt did his best to promote the works of
the newer Russian school of composers, including Borodin and Mussorgsky.
Numerous other composers - Grieg, Smetana, Glazunov, and of course, Wagner,
have written copiously about the value they placed on Liszt's moral
encouragement as an important aid in their careers. As one of Liszt's most
illustrious students, Moritz Rosenthal (1862-1946) once wrote, "When one
was with Liszt, one felt the power of his overwhelming personality..."
Franz Liszt has been
a grateful subject for biographers, factual and fictional. He possessed every
feature of a romantic personage, as we of the twentieth century are apt to
portray the great personalities of the nineteenth century. He had a brilliant
beginning as a child prodigy; he was kissed on his brow by Beethoven and
studied with Beethoven's greatest student, Carl Czerny. As a youth he was the
prince of pianists and the leading artistic figure in European capitals at the
time when people in Europe were preoccupied with glamour rather than work or war. He wore
flowing hair and had a wild appearance about him; he loved women, and women
loved him; and in his middle age he became an Abbe, as some sinners do in
romantic novels. Liszt wrote music with expressive and meaningful titles, often
with a poem for an epigraph; and he was unquestionably, with Wagner, the
fellow-creator of the "music of the future," so designated for its
quality of hugeness of design and grandiloquence of idiom.
As a pianist, Liszt
was unique, in the true meaning of the word. According to Felix Mendelssohn,
"Liszt possesses a degree of velocity and complete independence of finger,
and a thoroughly musical feeling, which cannot be equalled. In a word, I have
heard no performer whose musical perceptions extend to the very tips of his
fingers and emanate directly from them as Liszt's do." What he was able to
do as a pianist-interpreter, Liszt was able to do even better as a composer.
The hundreds of scores he wrote illustrated an astonishing command of the
keyboard and an even more extraordinary musical mind. Not only did Liszt
compose a vast quantity of original works, but he was throughout his life
continually compelled to transcribe his own and other composers' music for the
piano. How Liszt managed to find the time to accomplish all this can only be
explained by the fact that a genius works in mysterious ways.
The opening work on Arnaldo
Cohen's Liszt recital is a marvellous (and difficult) transcription of Camille
Saint-Saens' Danse macabre. Danse macabre was the third of Saint-Saens'
symphonic poems. He composed it in 1874, and conducted its first performance at
a Concert du Chatelet, Colonne concert on 24th January, 1875. Saint-Saens at
first set Henri Cazalis' poem to music. When this song was published the melody
was considered by many performers unsingable and received a caustic reception
in the music salons. As a result, Saint-Saens used the sketch of his song as
the basis for the composition of the orchestral work. Here is an English version
of the verses:
Jig, jig, jig, Death
in cadence, Striking with his heel a tomb,
Death at midnight plays a dance-tune,
Jig, jig, jig, on his violin.
The winter wind blows
and the night is dark; Moans are heard in the linden-trees.
Through the gloom,
white skeletons pass, Running and leaping in their shrouds.
Jig, jig, jig, each
one is frisking,
The bones of the
dancers are heard to crack -
But hark! Bold young
chanticleer heralds the day;
And Death and his
dancers have vanished away!
In a letter dated 5th May, 1874, to Professor Carl
Riedel (founder and director of the celebrated Riedel Verein in Leipzig and later president
of the AI'gemeine Deutsche Musikverein), Franz Liszt wrote, "Among
modern composes I regard Saint-Saens as the ablest and most gifted." Two
years later, on 2nd October, 1876, Liszt wrote to Saint-Saens:
Very dear friend,
In sending you today
the transcription of your "Danse macabre," I beg you to excuse my unskilfulness
in reducing the marvellous colouring of the score to the possibilities of the
piano. No one is bound by the impossible. To play an orchestra on the piano is
not yet given to anyone. Nevertheless we must always stretch towards the Ideal
across all the more or less dogged and insufficient forms. It seems to me that
Life and Art are only good for that.
In sincere admiration
and friendship, Your very devoted F. Liszt
Clearly, Liszt was
much too modest.
The transcription is written in a highly orchestral style that fires the
imagination. Midnight strikes (the piano is an able substitute for the harp).
You hear Death tuning his fiddle and the clattering of the dancers' bones is
decidedly chilling. For the pianist, the grisly merriment grows wilder and
wilder (and often even sounds more ominous) and then the dancing is cut short
as the first streak of daylight brightens, the skeletons vanish, the Supreme
Concertmaster grins ironically as he packs his fiddle, and again -for a little
while -the birds sing heedlessly in the orchard and the living forget their
doom.
From sinister and
devilish, we move to a mood of hopelessness. Nuages gris (Grey Clouds)
is one of Liszt's noted laments. Composed in 1881, its form is extremely
simple, the second half of the piece is essentially nothing more than a repeat
of the first. Yet the work, with its unusual harmonies and dissonances is
almost impressionistic in character, and definitely far ahead of its time.
According to musicologist Imre Mezo, "Although the functional features of
tonal music prevail in Nuages gris, the entry of each new note has
pre-set conditions, just as it would have in the serial techniques of the new Vienna school of Schoenberg, Webern and
Berg."
Unstern (Dark Star): sinistre,
disastro (1880-1886) is an experimental, curious and unique work. The
impression of misfortune or disaster, which approximates to the meaning of the
titles in these three languages, is forcefully communicated. Unstern, perhaps,
better than any other of Liszt's late piano works, illustrates the enormous
strides into modern dissonance of which Liszt was capable. The unrelieved
tension which these dissonances sustain over extended periods serves to suggest
the significance of the title. According to Istvan Szelenyi, "The long
line of chromatically ascending augmented triads convey the slow movement of
the strangely glittering star on its course along the horizon. The subsequent
section with an organ-like peal portrays the supplication of a frightened
crowd."
Liszt had no rivals
when it came to operatic paraphrases, fantasies and transcriptions. He was able
to transform a series of well-known and recognisable sections of an opera into
a memorable, cleverly structured pianistic tour-de-force which stood on its
own. Other composers who attempted this art were only able to produce a piano
reduction of operatic excerpts. In Liszt's hands (and mind) the piano was
always able to transform an operatic spectacle into a cohesive, pianistic
experience. Listeners familiar with the themes of the opera could always find
their favourite arias and melodies woven expertly by Liszt into the fabric of
his extravaganzas. Such is the case with Grande fantaisie sur des themes de
/'opera Les Huguenots de Meyerbeer. In Les Huguenots Giacomo
Meyerbeer proved himself to be a showman par excellence. First performed at the
Paris Opera on 29th February, 1836, Les Huguenots was Meyerbeer's second
French opera, coming five years after Robert le Diable. Les Huguenots was
a decisive step towards historical opera, and the story of the St.
Bartholomew's Eve massacre of 1572 had never been treated dramatically. The
opera was also "historic" as well as "historical", for
Meyerbeer was one of the first opera composers to do musicological research
that he would incorporate into his composition. In composing his work,
Meyerbeer studied Maraut's Psalter and French sixteenth- century
instrumental music. He also used the Yigdal, the Jewish hymn of
thanksgiving on the eve of the Sabbath, for the night-watchman's scene. This
care over detail in his work, which contemporaries emphasized and admired, was
particularly evident in his creation of local colour, which he himself
considered an important attribute of a good opera composer. Liszt recognised
all these attributes in Meyerbeer's music and created no less than six
different works based on Meyerbeer's compositions. In 1836, Liszt wrote his Grande
fantaisie sur un theme de /'opera "Les Huguenots" de Meyerbeer ,
and published it in 1837. In 1839 an intermediate version of the music
was created, and in 1842, the final version of the same work appeared
in print. The title of the work was that of the Paris publisher, Maurice
Schlesinger, although Liszt's own manuscript calls the work Reminiscences
des Huguenots, Grande Fantaisie dramatique. For this recording, Arnaldo
Cohen uses the 1842 Schlesinger (plate S2156) edition which is marked "zweite
veriinderte einzig rechtmiissige ausgabe" (second, final and
only correct version). Somewhat remarkably, this Fantasia is also the only work
which Liszt dedicated to Countess Marie d'Agoult (1805-1876). Marie d'Agoult
was a French writer (writing under the pseudonym Daniel Stern), who
separated from her husband of six years, and from 1833 to 1839 lived and
travelled with Liszt. Their sensational relationship produced three children.
One daughter, Cosima, was the wife of pianist Hans von BOlow, whom she
later divorced for composer Richard Wagner. Marie d' Agoult's novel,
Nelida (1846), is largely an autobiographical account of her liaison
with Liszt.
Many of the pieces
from Liszt's final years have a pronounced elegiac character. A few
relate to the death of Richard Wagner. Liszt composed La lugubre gondola in
two versions in December of 1882. Both of these works - inspired by a
Venetian gondola funeral -originated, as the composer himself declared, in a
premonition of Wagner's death, which occurred in Venice six weeks later.
These pieces did not appear in print unti11927. The raw musical material is
virtually the same in both versions of La lugubre gondola, but the
second is a longer, more dramatic work, and on a fuller sonorous scale than the
first. Although these works are steeped in traditional Romantic lyricism, its
venturesome tonal organization is particularly noteworthy. What is evident is a
preference for progressions of augmented triads, combinations derived from the
whole-tone scale. In these bitterly beautiful laments Liszt abandons fill-in
parts and ornamental elements, leaving only pure musical thought in its
skeleton-like reality.
The Impromptu dates
from 1872. The work was dedicated to Olga von Meyerdorff, wife of the Russian
diplomat Felix von Meyerdorff, who was among Liszt's close circle of friends in
Rome. It was originally
published in 1877 as the fourteenth part in a series Breitkopf & Hartel
entitled "Der Improvisator. Phantasieen und Variationen fOr das
Pianoforte." This "impromptu" was not Liszt's first attempt at
this genre. In 1829 he composed an Impromptu brillant (on themes of
Rossini and Spontini) and around 1850 he composed the more famous Valse
impromptu. While both earlier works are carefree and scintillating, the Impromptu
(subtitled Nocturne) shows Liszt in a completely different frame of
mind. Although it begins Animato, con passione, the momentum is
disrupted now and then by rallentandos (moderating the pace), ritardandos
(gradual slackening of the pace) and cadences. Additionally, one also
encounters surprising key shifts.
Arnaldo Cohen's
recital ends as it began, with a work subtitled Danse macabre- Liszt's
monumental Totentanz (Dance of Death). Better known as a work for piano
and orchestra, it was first sketched out in Pisa in 1839. It was developed and
completed in Weimar in 1849. The
instrumentation took place in 1853 with revisions in 1859. Between 1860 and
1865 Liszt once again rewrote the work (slightly shortening it at the end) and
published it this time for solo piano. The inspiration for this work was
apparently a fresco in the Camposanto of Pisa. Liszt was thrilled by this art
work during his trip to Italy in 1838-39. The fresco, entitled The Triumph of
Death, was for many years attributed to a Florentine, Andrea Orcagna, or l'Arcagnolo
(1308?-1368?), but some art historians insist that it was painted by Pietro and
Ambrogio Lorenzetti. The right of this fantastical fresco portrays a group of
men and women, who, with dogs and falcons, appear to be back from the chase,
or they may be sitting as if in Boccaccio's garden. They are sumptuously
dressed. A minstrel and a damsel sing to them while Cupids flutter about and
wave torches. But Death flies swiftly toward them, a fearsome woman, with hair
streaming wildly and clawed hands. She is bat-winged; her clothing is stiff
with wire. She swings a scythe, eager to end the delight and joy of the world.
Corpses lie in a heap at her feet; kings, queens, cardinals, warriors, the great
ones of the earth, whose souls, in the shape of new-born babes, rise out of
them. Angels, like butterflies, are ready to receive the righteous, who fold
their hands in prayer; demons welcome the damned, who shrink back in horror.
The devils, who are as beasts of prey or loathsome reptiles, fight for souls;
the angels rise to heaven with the saved; the demons drag their victims to a
burning mountain, and throw them into the flames. Next to this heap of corpses
is a crowd of beggars, cripples, miserable ones, who beg Death to end their
woe; they do not interest her. A rock separates this scene from another, the
chase. Gallant lords and noble dames are on horseback; hunters with dogs and
falcons follow in their train. They come upon three open graves in which lie
three princes in different stages of decay. An aged monk on crutches, possibly
Saint Macarius, points to this memento mori. All talk joyously, although
one of them holds his nose. Only one of the party, a woman, rests her head on
her hand and shows a sorrowful face. On mountain heights above are hermits, who
have reached through abstinence and meditation the highest state of human
existence. One milks a doe while squirrels play about him; another sits and
reads; a third looks down into the valley rank with death. According to
tradition, the faces in this fresco are portraits of the painter's
contemporaries. One historian has suggested that Death in the fresco is
personified as a woman in accordance with the characterization in Petrarch's Triumph
of Death.
The first performance
of Liszt's Totentanz (in the piano and orchestra version) took place on
15th March, 1865 at The Hague with pianist Hans von BOlow as soloist. The work is
based on the cantus firmus of the medieval plainsong Dies irae, which
fascinated musicians from Berlioz to Loeffler. The text of the Dies irae upon
which Liszt based his work, is ascribed traditionally to Thomas de Celano, who
died in 1230, or, as some believe,1255, its melody derived from existing existing
chant. Liszt's Totentanz is in five variations with many smaller ones
incorporated. One historian stated that the introduction of the work is an
illustration of the verse that frequently occurs in the old Dances of Death,
and may be found in part on old New England tombstones. The lines may thus be translated:
"So here lie all
our bones; and to us both great and small come dancing! As you are now, so
once were we; as we are now, so shall you be!"
Another musicologist,
Richard Pohl, suggested that Liszt's music was inspired by's German Renaissance
painter Hans Holbein. Dance of Death, and that each one of the variations
characterises one of Holbein's figures - the serious man, the frivolous youth,
the mocking sceptic, the praying monk, the tender maiden. Possibly, the idea of
this inspiration was derived from a jest of Liszt, who wrote to Bulow in 1864:
"The idea of producing the Danse Macabre for the first time at Basel (Holbein lived in Basel and the Kunstmuseum
contains most of his important works) is eminently judicious. If there should
be a fiasco, we can attribute it to Holbein, who has corrupted the public
taste."
Victor and Marina A. Ledin,
@ 1997, Encore Consultants.