It is astonishing to realize that the works on this program were all composed within a twenty-five year time frame in the mid-nineteenth century in France and Germany. Such brilliance!
Années de Pèlerinage II
In 1837 Franz Liszt (1811-1886) and his lover, Countess Marie d’Agoult, left France to visit their one-year-old daughter, Blandine, in Switzerland. The baby was being raised by Liszt’s mother while Liszt traveled around Europe as a virtuoso pianist. As the birth of their second child was imminent, after visiting Blandine they went to Lake Como in Italy, where Cosima* was born on Christmas Eve. Liszt and the Countess spent the next year and a half in Italy, finally settling in Rome. Their third child, Daniel, was born in the spring. What Liszt took home to Paris (other than babies) was a rich set of experiences which led to the seven fabulous pieces in this volume. All were inspired by great Italian art and poetry: a painting by Raphael, a sculpture of Michelangelo, a song by Giovanni Bononcini (not Salvator Rosa, in spite of the title), the poetry of Petrarch, and the writing of Dante. This direct connection between music and art was powerful in Liszt’s hands.
“Sposalizio”, published in 1858, was inspired by Raphael’s 1504 painting, The Marriage of the Virgin. Liszt first saw the painting in 1838 at the Pinacoteca di Brera in Milan, where it is still on display.** The painting depicts the marriage ceremony of Mary and Joseph. They are surrounded by other people, standing before a tiled plaza, itself “a virtuoso exercise in perspective” (Rodda). The symbolism in the painting is powerful, to include a young man breaking a twig over his knee in the foreground. The tale behind this (not recounted in any of the Gospels) is that the Virgin Mary was apparently having trouble choosing a husband from the four suitors who were courting her. The High Priest helped her by giving each man a twig. Whoever’s twig would bloom first would become her husband. Of course, Joseph’s is the only one blooming. Liszt insisted that a copy of the painting be inserted in the original manuscript of his piece. Liszt’s composition is a warm, beautiful interpretation of the scene, with suggestions of wedding bells in its peaceful beginning and final benediction. There is triumph and joy in this work, with a sense of seriousness as well, faithfully reflecting the nature of the painting.
*(Cosima later married Hans von Bulow and had two daughters with him. While still his wife, she bore two daughters with Richard Wagner. That’s a story for another day.)
** Note: You can see and hear a performance by Clive Britton in front of the painting at the museum here: https://pinacotecabrera.org/en/media/breramusica-annees-de-pelerinage-deuxieme-annee-italie-sposalizio-franz-liszt
Sonata in B Minor, S. 178
This sonata was completed in 1853, then published in 1854. At this point in his life, Franz Liszt was a star. Years of brilliant virtuoso playing preceded this sonata’s appearance. Liszt dedicated it to Robert Schumann, in gratitude for Schumann’s dedication of his Fantasie in C Major to Liszt. Poor Schumann was already hospitalized in the mental asylum at Endenich, but after the piece arrived in the post, Clara Schumann wrote: “Today Liszt sent Robert a sonata dedicated to him and several other things with a friendly letter to me. But the things are dreadful! …This is nothing but sheer racket….And now I still have to thank him – it’s truly appalling.” The sonata was publicly played for the first time in 1857, by one of Liszt’s students, Hans von Bülow. He married Cosima (remember her?) the same year. After the first performance the critic Eduard Hanslick declared “Anyone who has heard this and finds it beautiful is beyond help”. One German newspaper referred to it as “an invitation to hissing and stomping”. But Richard Wagner loved the work and supported it fully. Eventually, the sonata was accepted by the general public, and today it is widely considered to be Liszt’s greatest work for piano. Sir Alfred Brendel has called it “the most original, powerful and intelligent sonata composed after Beethoven and Schubert”. A recent Google search reflects the interest in this piece: 1,710,000 hits came up, including dissertation titles such as “Historical Background for a Hermeneutic Interpretation of the Liszt B Minor Piano Sonata as the Metaphysical Embodiment of His Spirit”. And for those of you who want to learn more about the sonata, Sir Stephen Hough has created an iPad app. For $9.99 you can experience a performance, teaching tips, and a detailed analysis.
There is scholarly dispute over whether this sonata is related to the Faust legend, made famous in the 19th century by its author, J.W. von Goethe. One of Liszt’s students stated that Liszt always traveled with a well-worn copy of Faust in his luggage. In the legend Faust longs to find absolute truth and the meaning of existence. He turns to magic, finally selling his soul to the devil in hopes of gaining one moment of experience so rewarding that he will want that moment to last forever. In the end, Mephistopheles (the devil’s representative) loses and Faust is redeemed by God’s grace. Liszt’s Faust Symphony was completed in 1854 as well, with movements named after the main characters of the drama: Faust, Gretchen, and Mephistopheles. “There is no question that Faust was central to Liszt’s imaginative and philosophical view of the world and to himself…. It does seem that the Sonata in B minor and the Faust Symphony were present at some level in Liszt’s mind simultaneously, whatever the precise chronology of setting them down” (Paul Roberts, 2023).
The Sonata is about thirty minutes of uninterrupted spectacular music. The first page presents three motives that provide the framework for nearly all that follows. Those basic ideas are transformed throughout. And yes, it is fiendishly difficult! When someone asked Liszt if he were ready to give up the piano, he responded: “My piano is me, it is my speech–my life.”
Three Fantasiestück Op. 111
In 1849 Robert Schumann (1810-1856) was offered a post as Municipal Director of Music in Dusseldorf, which included directing the choral society and conducting the symphony. The Schumanns packed up their home in Dresden and moved with their five surviving children (one son had died as an infant). They were warmly received and were in turn impressed by Dusseldorf citizens’ enthusiasm for music. Robert and Clara welcomed their seventh child not long after arriving. By early November, Schumann had responded to the beauty of the new landscape by writing his third symphony, the Rhenish Symphony. Other pieces quickly followed, including today’s three fantasy pieces of Op. 111. Upon hearing them, Clara wrote: Robert has composed three piano pieces of a grave and passionate character which I like very much.
Introspection mixed with whimsy might best characterize the three works. The first (“very quickly with passionate expression”) in C minor is stormy and turbulent. In stark contrast, the second (“rather slow”) in A flat major is dreamlike and meditative, with a direct relationship to the slow movement of Franz Schubert’s Piano Sonata in D major. Schumann had a great admiration for Schubert, having stated earlier in his life that the D major sonata was “so bursting with rapture that it seems unable to sing itself out”. The third piece (“strong and very marked”) is powerful and resolute. Schumann’s music reflected his personal views in almost autobiographical ways. He once stated: “I am affected by everything that goes on in the world—politics, literature, people—I think it over in my own way, and then I long to express my feelings in music.”
At this point in his life, Schumann was struggling significantly with his mental health. His conducting was seriously lacking, and his position as Director of Music became imperiled. His unstable mental state was a serious issue, as was his lack of assertiveness with the musicians. Clara referred to this as his illness and intrigues. Auditory hallucinations, anxiety, and distress increased dramatically, both in severity and in frequency. He jumped off a bridge into the Rhine, having left a silk handkerchief with the tollkeeper in place of the money required to cross the bridge. A fisherman was alerted and pulled him from the water. (A lifesaver medal was awarded to the fisherman and is currently in the Robert Schumann House in Zwickau, Germany.) Five days after this episode Schumann checked himself into the asylum at Endenich where he was diagnosed with “paranoid melancolia”. Clara was already pregnant again with their last son. The orchestra continued paying Schumann for the first six months of his hospitalization. Robert lived at Endenich for two years until his death in 1856 at age 46. At 37, Clara was left a widow with seven children. She had been pregnant at least part of every year for fourteen years. She continued to concertize for forty years, always dressing in black in Robert’s memory.
Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13
In 1834, while living and studying with Friederich Wieck, Schumann became engaged to Ernestine von Fricken, another student in the house. Her guardian, an amateur musician named Baron von Fricken, wrote the theme for this piece and sent it to Schumann for his opinion. The engagement ended soon after, so the published versions of the work removed the name von Fricken entirely. Schumann merely referenced the theme as being written “by an amateur”. In this same year Schumann founded the music journal, Neue Zeitschrift für Musik (New Journal for Music). For ten years he served as editor and principal contributor. He wrote about new music, often praising composers such as Chopin, Brahms, Mendelssohn, and Berlioz. The journal lives on today, calling itself the “leading magazine for contemporary music and interdisciplinary subjects”. It includes classical, jazz and rock music. Schumann started an important source that is still read in 40 countries.
The Symphonic Etudes are dedicated to Schumann’s English friend, the pianist and composer, William Bennett. Bennett had been invited to Dusseldorf by Mendelssohn and was introduced to Schumann. The two composer/pianists quickly became fast friends. Bennett performed Op. 13 frequently in England to great acclaim. Schumann thought very highly of him, even singing his praises in the Neue Zeitschrift, writing: If only there were many artists working in the same spirit as William Bennett, no one would need to fear any longer for the future of our art. Clara was not so convinced of his merit. She later wrote: How can a Robert Schumann who wrote such a sonata, such Etudes, such a Carnaval, who stands so far above a Bennett, say such a thing, and compare him to a Mendelssohn? But that’s what friendship does. Schumann thought the piece unsuitable for public performance and advised Clara not to play it.
In many ways, this set of variations continues to be a work in progress. The original version was published in 1837, then Schumann revised and published it again in 1852. After this revision, there was a theme with twelve variations. Schumann referred to the work by no less than eight different titles in his lifetime, and he vacillated between the terms “variation” and “etude”. Eleven years after Schumann’s death, in 1867, Clara and Johannes Brahms added five variations which had been deleted by Schumann. To this day, pianists must decide which version to perform and whether to include some of the variations published after his death. Most contemporary pianists settle on the 1852 version, often with the addition of some of the posthumous variations.
Given the frequency with which this piece is programmed, pianists clearly believe that Schumann was wrong about the piece being unsuitable for public performance. It is a fantastic, exciting composition, no matter which version or which variations are included. Judge for yourself!
