THE IDIOMATIC CHARACTER OF ROMANTIC KEYBOARD COMPOSITION:

A COMPARISON OF SELECTED PIANO AND ORGAN WORKS OF FRANZ LISZT

AND A STUDY OF DIFFERENTIATION IN THEIR STYLES

Preseqted by

Catherine Thiedt

To Fu1fi11 the Dissertation Requirement for the Degree of

Doctor of Musical Arts

i
Deparbnent of Performanc~ and Literature (Organ)
j
1

\
i
Dissertation Direct~r: Dr. Jurgen Thym

Eastman Schoo1 of Music

of the

University of Rochester

October, 1975
 ABSTRACT

A discussion which attempts to assess the musical value of a

keyboard work often .indulges in judgments regarding the idiomatic

character of the writing. Unfortunately, these observations are often

predicated on casually-formed opinion rather than sophisticated analysis.

The purpose of this paper is to remove sorne of the speculation from such

judgments, and through analysis of parallel piano and organ works,

determine the compositional techniques which produced a differentiation

in piano and organ style. This is best accomplished through selected

works of Franz Liszt who revolutionized the performing techniques of

each instrument.

The investigation of keyboard style cannot be limited to analysis

alone, but must explore the extra-musical forces which influenced the

aesthetics of the day. The nineteenth century, in itself, was a

paradoxical era. In regard to pianism, it nurtured two opposing

factions: a prosaic cult of virtuosity which fostered a body of vacuous,

,
bravura music, and a serious school of composition, with Robert Schumann

as spokesman, which strived to upgrade the values of musical art. Liszt,

as performer and composer, embodied both streams of nineteenth-century

art. As a pianist of inimitable technique, he was distrusted by his

contemporaries for his proclivity to prosaic exhibitionism. However, as

a composer, his preoccupation with virtuosic display gradually diminished,

and he produced works which rank among the most poe tic utterances of the

century.

ii
 Liszt's composition for organ was similarly influenced by two

diametrically-opposed philosophies. On the one hand, as an ardent

disciple of Robert de Lammenais, he espo~sed a style of church music

which was a mixture of church and theater idioms. On the other hand, he

counterbalanced this unorthodox concept of sacred music by subscribing

to the classicistic teachings of Cecilianism. As a result, his

composition for organ produced an irreconcilable dichotomy of style.

This dissertation focuses on the virtuosic side of Liszt's organ

composition through a discussion of three pieces: the Fantasie und Fuge

über den Choral "Ad nos, ad salutarem undam," the "Weinen, Klagen"

Variations for pia~o (1862) and the transcription for organ (1863), and

the Preludium und Fuge über das Thema B-A-C-H for organ (first version,

1855; revision, 1870) and the transcription for piano (1871).

Recognizing that the principal differences in piano and organ

sonority are dynamic potential, pitch range, and sustaining power,

comparative analysis of the original works and their transcriptions

uncovered numerous compositional techniques which Liszt used to translate

the language of one instrument into that of the other. For instance, to

compensate for the piano's lesser dynamic level, Liszt rearranged the

spacing of the hands, replaced parallelism in the organ version with

contrary motion in the piano, rationed the use of scales, and expanded

the scope of the arpeggiations. In accommodating the smaller compass of

the organ, alterations involved more than rewriting those notes which

exceeded the physical limits of the instrument. Rather, the alteration

of one significant contour necessitated the restructuring of most

contours in the piece, even those which were within the playing range of

iii
both instruments. Finally, to allow for differences in sustaining power,

the pacing of rhythmic activity was completely redesigned.

Further inquiry was directed toward the function of the pedal,

the changing role of the left hand, the use of dissonance, aspects of

texture, figuration, and many others. In essence, the differentiation

of piano and organ style in nineteenth-century literature rests less

with figurational detail and more with the structure of the composition
.
as determined by various musical parameters.

iv
 VITA

Catherine Thiedt was born October 22, 1940 in Buffalo, New York.

In 1962, she graduated cum laude with a Bachelor of Music degree from

Heidelberg College, Tiffin, Ohio with a major in music education and an

,
emphasis in piano. As a student of Jose Echaniz in piano performance

and literature, she earned the degree Master of Music from the Eastman

School of Music of the University of Rochester in 1964. In June, 1969,

she began studies toward the degree Doctor of Musical Arts in organ

performance and literature, studying organ with David Craighead. During

the year of residence in this program, 1973-74, she held a teaching

fellowship in the department of organ.

Her professional career reflects the various areas of

concentration in her formal education. She has served as: Vocal Music

Teacher at Herbert Hoover Junior High School, Kenmore, New York;

part-time Instructor of Piano at Rosary Hill College, Buffalo, New York;

full-time Director of Music at Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church,

Niagara Falls, New York; Organist and Choir Director at Gethsemane

•
Lutheran Church and Salem United Church of Christ, both in Buffalo.

In 1968 she joined .the facu1ty of Heidelberg Co11ege and

presently is Assistant Professor of Piano, Organ and Theory as weIl as

Director of Music at Trinity United Church of Christ, also in Tiffin.

Besides performing extensively in the East and Midwest, she has served

as resource leader of church music workshops. In 1971 she was elected

to the National Commission on Worship of the United Church of Christ.

v
 ·TO MOTHER

In tribute to her commitment

to the intrinsic values of education

vi
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A host of persons, too numerous to name, contributed indirectly

to the realization of this project: colleagues who engaged in

constructive debate, librarians who facilitated the research, and friends

who empathized. A few individuals, however, offered continued counsel

or assistance and deserve special mention.

The formulation of the committee proposaI was supervised by

Dr. Jerald Graue, whose insight into the development of keyboard

literature was especially beneficial.

The perceptive guidance of my advisor, Dr. Jurgen Thym, was

invaluable in structuring a realistic framework for the investigation

and conceptualizing the substance of this paper. Moreover, his

conscientious deliberation and compassionate attitude was a wellspring

of encouragement.

And Most especially, the love and understanding-of my family

was a continuaI source of strength, providing stability through the

peaks and valleys of the creative process.

An expression of gratitude is extended to Ms. Sylvia Goldstein

of Boosey and Hawkes, Inc. for generously authorizing permission to

include quotations of the organ works in the body of the texte

l am especially appreciative of the linguistic expertise of

Mrs. Bertha Bumann whose tireless efforts in the translation of the

Peter Schwarz dissertation was of immeasurable assistance.

vii
 And finally, recognizing that the attractiveness and readability

of the final script is dependent upon artistic judgments on the part of

the typist, l am grateful to Ms. Emmarie Knieriem, not only for her

meticulous work, but for her cheerful and cooperative spirit.

viii
 TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION .......................... 1

Chapter
1. LISZT AS PIANO COMPOSER ............. 18

The phenomenon of virtuosity in the nineteenth

century; Liszt's contributions as a. performer;
Liszt's career as a composer of piano music;
surmnary

II. LISZT AS ORGAN COMPOSER ................ 39

Historicism of the nineteenth century;

Liszt's concept of church music; Liszt's
composition for organ; the organs Liszt knew;
summary

III. FANTASIE UND FUGE ÜBER DEN CHORAL

"AD NOS, AD SALUTAREM UNDAM" 64

IV. "WEINEN, KLAGEN" VARIATIONS

FOR ORGAN AND PIANO • • • • 86

V. PRELUDIUM UND FUGE ÜBER DAS THEMA B-A-C-H:

COMPARISON OF ORGAN VERSIONS • • • • • • • 134

VI. PRELUDIUM UND FUGE ÜBER DAS THEMA B-A-C-H:

COMPARISON OF 1870 ORGAN VERSION AND
1871 PIANO TRANSCRIPTION • • • • • • • • • • 149

CONCLUSION • 193

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 210

ix
 INTRODUCTION

In surveying the development of instrumental music over a span

of several centuries, one becomes aware of the ever-increasing

consciousness of composers toward particular instrumental timbres.

While there was a time when interchangeability of instruments was an

acceptable practice in performance, gradually, as intonation and tonal

quality of the instruments were refined, this permissiveness was

abandoned and composers conceived their works for a certain instrument

or ensemble. Even in the case of keyboard instruments a kind of inter­

changeability existed so that for a period of time organ and cembalo

scores were not significantly different from one another. As the

other instruments began to take on clearer identities, so the keyboard

instruments and literature began to pull apart until in the Baroque

era, a distinct personality developed for organ and harpsichord. With

the refinement of the pianoforte, the differentiation of keyboard style

was to find culmination in the nineteenth century and so provides the

setting for this investigation.

The nineteenth century was a period of social and political

upheaval which was to affect the arts as weIl. The people of France

were still struggling to establish a republic in order to provide for a

more equitable form of government. As the middle class gained economic

independence, so the demand for mass entertainment increased,

necessitating the construction of larger concert halls in place of the

l
 2

aristocratic salons. The performers who mesmerized this new audience

were given the accolades formerly bestowed on the composer alone, and a

cult of virtuosity became one stream of nineteenth-century art. Above

a11, the status of musicians, composers and performers a1ike, was 1ifted
1
from that of a 1ackey to an honored guest in the drawing-room circ1es of

the educated e1ite.

Amidst this revo1utionary atmosphere the piano underwent its

greatest degree of improvement so that by mid-century it became the

instrument 1arge1y known today. Its popularity as a home and concert

instrument sky-rocketed and the public embarked on a love affair that

extended to its performers and composers as we11. Without exception

critics have heralded the nineteenth century as the treasure-house of

the piano repertoire, a time when the pianoforte not on1y outranked a11

keyboard instruments in popu1arity but dominated the entire musical

scene, as very few composers were able to resist the urge to write for

such a promising new instrument.

Concurrent with the soaring ascent of the pianoforte, the organ

was experiencing a complete metamorphosis both in terms of its ro1e and

its design. As the genera1 public migrated from the church to the

concert hall, the auxiliary function of the church as a community

cultural center was eliminated and musical composition for the church

offered less attraction to most nineteenth-century composers. At the

same time there was a growing concern for a simplification of church

music style and a commitment to return to the a cappella style of

Palestrina. This force, known as the Ceci1ian movement, profound1y

affected composers from Mendelssohn to Reger, tempering both the choral

and instrumental expressions. Both situations had an inhibiting effect

 3

on the composers, so that the volume of piano composition far outweighed

that of organ. Not that the organ suffered a loss in prestige musically,

for Many of the nineteenth-century composers played the organ and wrote

modestly for it. Even Chopin, whose reputation as a composer rests

principally on his compositions for piano, was a skilled organist who

held in high esteem the organ and its capabilities. l It is more likely

that the organ as a church instrument, partly handicapped by the

provincial dogmas of Cecilianism, could not satisfy the thirst for

spectacle and found difficulty competing with the newness of the piano

and the rise of the orchestra. In spite of these delimitations, a small

but impressive body of organ music was written which had a profound

effect on the,development of organ style.

In the history of organ design the concept of tone has evolved

from generation to generation, each builder injecting his own personal ,

seasonings into the instruments. While the most accurate investigation

of organ design requires a survey of individual builders, it is possible

to fonnulate certain trends of building within the periods of music

history. During the Baroque era, instruments of continental Europe

stressed vertical ensembles of stops, roughly paralleling the natural

harmonies, which produced a clear, bright quality. Variety of registra­

tions did not result as much from individual colors as from a selective

combination of upper partials in concert with the fundamental tone. Of

course, national and regional preferences affected the individual

designs, and the tonal character-of northern and southern instruments

differed sharply. After the time of Bach, the instruments of Austria,

IAnita Zakin, "Chopin and the Organ," Musical Times CI

(December,1960), p. 780.
 4

southern Germany and France began to exert a stronger influence on the

general course of organ design so that by the mid-nineteenth century

the concept of organ tone favored a lower point of gravity, that is,

both a strong fundamental tone and an abundance of eight-foot colors.

The effect of the Romantic organ was completely contrary to its Baroque

ancestor and, to many organists of the twentieth century, represented

an absolute "degeneration" of organ design.

This depreciatory appraisal of the Romantic organ by sorne

twentieth-century organists should not be underestimated, because its

consequences extended beyond the realm of organ design into the

artistic assessment of the literature. Although this negative point of

view was not universal, it was sufficiently widespread and respected to

incur the subjugation of much of the nineteenth-century organ music in

our own century and to influence the aesthetics of what constitutes an

idiomatic organ style. The force most responsible for propagating the

biases against nineteenth-century literature was the Orgelbewegung, an

organ reform movement originating in Gerrnany which would, in the course

of the first fifty years of this century, have an impact on organ

designs throughout the world. In 1896 Albert Schweitzer visited the

Liederhalle in Stuttgart to hear the new organ that had been widely

acclaimed in the newspapers. When Herr Lange, the organist at the

Stiftskirche played the instrument, Schweitzer was dismayed, writing of

the event:

When l heard the harsh tone of the much belauded instrument and
in a Bach fugue which Lange played to me perceived a chaos of
sounds in which l could not distinguish the separa te voices, my
foreboding that the modern organ meant in that respect a step
not forward but backward suddenly became a certainty.2

2Lawrence l. Phelps, uA Short History of the Organ Revival,"

Church Music, 67.1 (January, 1967), p. 13.
 5

Disturbed by this reve1ation, Schweitzer authored a pamphlet in 1906

entitled "The Art of Organ Building and Organ Playing in Germany and

France." It was not until the Freiburg Conference of 1926 that the

movement gathered sufficient momentum to dramatically alter the course

of organ design, and Christhard Mahrenholz emerged as its most eloquent

spokesman. In an article on the history and effect of the Orgelbewegung

Lawrence Phelps outlines eight precepts of organ building which have

evolved from agreements made at that conference:

1) The organ is primarily a polyphonie instrument; therefore

aIl aspects of its design and construction must be worked
out toward the goal of producing the transparent tonal
textures indispensable for the ideal presentation of
polyphonie literature.

2) The organ is ideally a sensitive and responsive keyboard

instrument, and the performer must be placed close to his
instrument and have direct control of the key mechanism.

3) The organ should speak freely toward the main listening

area and therefore must be placed in a freestanding and
somewhat elevated position within the room it is to serve,
and it should preferably be located on the central and
longest axis of the listening area.

4) The tonal design of the instrument should be developed

according to the requirements of the literature to be
played, with the polyphonie literature given first
consideration but with suitable additions to broaden the
scope as funds and space permit.

5) The name chosen for the stops should be a simple indication

of the function, tone or type of pipe construction,
according to well-established traditions.

6) As a basic method for building a tonal design appropriate

to the requirements of the traditional polyphonie literature,
the 'Verk principle" concept as deve10ped in the North German
or Schnitger school is to be used as a guide. This provides
for the development of the integrity of the individual
division by assuring its completeness at whatever size may
be required while at the same time providing a well-defined
contrast between each division in respect to both basic
pitch and quality of tone. The Principal of each division
will thus be at a different octave pitch and the other stops
chosen accordingly.
 6

7) The physical arrangement of the organ and its architectural

appearance should also be worked out according to the
principles of the functional "Werk" concept of the Schnitger
and simi1ar schoo1s.

8) Suitab1e acoustics for an organ require that the ma!or

surface of the room remain natura1 and "untreated."

In spite of the constructive features of the conference, the

Orge1bewegung, in a long-range view, had denigrated the stature of

nineteenth-century art in the minds of many musicians. The assertion

that the organ is primari1y a polyphonie instrument and, therefore,

that organ design shou1d be geared first toward the polyphonie 1iterature

was far too exclusive. In a movement which behe1d art on1y in the

narrow sense, the definition of polyphonie 1iterature was equa11y narrow,

so that the nineteenth-century 1iterature stood to suffer the most from

such dogmas. Likewise, the identification with the Schnitger schoo1 of

design unnecessari1y cast aside other organs of the Baroque, 1ike those

of Gottfried Si1bermann and Franiois Henri C1icquot, which were capable

of performing polyphonie 1iterature but with entire1y different tonal

concepts. Thus the p1eas for organ reform which Schweitzer had voiced in

the ear1y part of the century soon became distorted by the advocates of

the Orge1bewegung who, in devotion to their cause, sacrificed one style

for the exclusive benefit of another. Phe1ps points out that

Schweitzer was not an antiquarian, and he was interested in

the instruments of Bachls time on1y as a point of departure.
He considered the great organ of Cavaille-Coll as "the idea1
so far as tone is concerned." Thus he had no rea1
appreciation or understanding of the organ as a polyphonie
instrument, nor did he perceive that his criticism of the
post-Romantic orchestral influences that had robbed the
organ of its former glory and integrity and made new
instruments of his time ineffective as a medium for the
proper presentation of the work of Bach was equa11y

3
Ibid., p. 15.
 7

applicable to even the best of the Romantic instruments as

weil. Furthermore, his obvious preference for the work of
Cavaille-Coll and certain contemporary Alsatian builders was
always resented in Germany. So after World War l when the
organ reform movement finally got under way in Germany,
although he was the acknowledged instigator of the reform, 4
he was already relegated to the role of the "grand old man."

Inextricably entwined with the twentieth-century efforts toward

a refinement of organ design is the historicism of the Orgelbewegung

and a so-called return to the Baroque. But Carl Dahlhaus also observes

that the tendencies of the Orgelbewegung were not only retrospective.

Rather, ~he advocates of the movement, living in an age of the

Neo-Baroque, felt that the music of their time had a certain affinity

for the Baroque. Historicism, in light of the Orgelbewegung, presented

itself as a paradox:

1) It rejected the Romantic.

2) It viewed the Baroque as the "era of perfection";
it saw universal values in the works of that period
for composition and organ-building of our time.
3) It sawa coincidence with the new music of the 1920's
and 1930's.5

Today we are able to view the German organ reform with

considerably more objectivity, revealing that the constructive elements

of the movement were discolored by biases and arbitrary judgments.

First, the advocates of the Orgelbewegung were far too limited in their

definition of what constitutes polyphonie music, and adhered too rigidly

to the contrapuntal practice of the eighteenth century. Polyphony, in

the larger sense, encompasses a broad range of textures where there may

be, among others, an interaction of melodic lines, of rhythmic

4Ibid ., p. 14.

5Carl Dahlhaus, "Modern Orgelmusik und das 19. Jahrhundert,"

in Orgel und Orgelmusik Heute: Versuch einer Analyse, ed. by Hans
Heinrich Eggebrecht (Stuttgart: Musikwissenschaftliche Verlags-
Gesellshaft, 1968), p. 38.
 8

configurations or even harmonic clusters. The lucid expression of such

structures is not contingent upon the sharply differentiated registers of

the Baroque organ, but can be achieved on an instrument which has a wide

variety of tone colors. To suggest that there is an absence of polyphony

in nineteenth-century French music is as senseless as negating the

existence of homophony in the German Baroque. If the reformers were so

impervious to the merits of the non-Baroque, so it is understandable

that they would also perpetuate the misconception that a mixture of

dynarnics and colorings would contradict the clarity of counterpoint.

This provincialview of organ composition stemmed in large

measure from the musical environment of the time. Advocates of organ

reform were so conditioned by the tonal ideals of the Gebrauchsmusik

that they equated perfect organ art with transparent, linear textures

characteristic of both the Baroque and the Neo-Baroque traditions. It

can therefore be conjectured that the tenets espoused by the reformers

were largely self-serving. After aIl, the Orgelbewegung was initially

a German movement which would stand to enhance the performance of German

music of the present as weIl as the pasto Regardless of the nobility of

the original cause, later behavior was slanted by nationalistic

interests.

Finally, sorne of the reformers were obsessed by a commitment to

return the organ to its liturgical function in the church. According to

Hans Klo tz, an ou tspoken proponen t of organ reform, "[the organ) by i ts

very origin and character, • • • is the obvious musical instrument of the

church and of the .liturgy.,,6 It is true that for over a thousand years

6Hans Klotz, The Organ Handbook, transe by Gerhard Krapf

(St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1969), p. 130.
 9

the organ has been a church instrument with its aesthetic being

determined by its liturgical function. But the assumption that organ

music is synonymous with church music is an erroneous one. The organ

has always served a rather tenuous place in the liturgy, serving as an

enrichment to the service rather than an indispensable custodian of the

liturgy. Most often the major responsibilities of the organ music are

limited to the opening and closing of the service and the possible

addition of hymn accompaniments for the congregation and versets of the

chant in alternation with the choir. During the Middle Ages the church

questioned the appropriateness of the instrument in worship, placing

the instrument at the brink of exile from liturgical function. The

assertion of Klotz that the organ is by origin a religious instrument

is countermanded by Dahlhaus, who traces the ancestry to the arenas

where the organ appeared as a circus instrument. 7 This somehow detracts

from the idea that the organ belongs to the church and is a medium of

expression for the liturgy.

The nineteenth century was not committed to the organ solely as

a liturgical instrument. In fact, it was a time when a few organs

escaped the confines of the church and entered the concert hall. It

should be remembered that the attempts of builders to make the organ

orchestral were based on the attitude that the organ was simply a

musical instrument, not a special spokesman of the liturgy. The

nineteenth-century organ was oriented toward the orchestra, because the

orchestra, in its rapid expansion of instrumentation and personnel, was

experiencing an unprecedented surge of popularity. Although the Baroque

organ contained stops bearing the names of instruments of its own time,

7Dahlhaus, "Moderne Orgelmusik," p. 41.

 10

the relationship of organ to orchestra in the nineteenth century

exceeded the simple duplication of an instrumental color. As the more

innovative composers experimented with enlarged instrumentation and

multi-colored ensembles, so the nineteenth-century organists revamped

their registrational techniques to favor broadly-based combinations of

diverse colors capable of blending into full-bodied ensembles.

The Orgelbewegung deplored the secular viewpoint of the

nineteenth century and attempted to restore the organ to its honorable

station. Motivated more by religious reasons than musical ones, the

reformers viewed the Baroque designs as the most authentic and rejected

aIl others as unauthentic including the enriching contributions of French

organ builders like Cavaille-Coll to the development of the instrument.

The thrust of the movement is past; fortunately its principles of

organ design have constructively influenced sorne distinguished builders

of our time. But as sincere as the original intents of Schweitzer and

his collaborators were, the Orgelbewegung was a destructive force to the

literature and instruments of the late nineteenth and early twentieth

centuries. Besides the excessive reverence toward the Schnitger

instruments and the wholesale rejection of post-Baroque literature, the

crusade to identify the organ exclusively with the church set back

appreciably the acceptance of the organ as an independent musical

instrument and an àrtistic means of expression.

The impe~us for this study arose from such a belligerent

attitude, for too many organists have spurned the nineteenth-century

literature as a "poor relation" of the piano, unequivocally void of

content, while piano music has enjoyed universal acceptance and a

definition of piano style has been readily sensed though not explicitly
 11

verba1ized. Little effort is expended to understand the music on its

own merits, and discriminating musicians even deny its 1egitimacy as

organ music at a11, 1abe11ing it as "piano music with peda1s." However

thought1ess such remarks may be, writers must share the b1ame for

misappraising the e1ements of the post-Baroque organ style. Whenever an

arpeggio appeared in figuration or octave doub1ings prevai1ed, the

ana1yst cried "pianistic" and so perpetuated a restrictive view of the

instrument. Illustrations of such sense1ess verbiage are end1ess and

are unnecessary to quote here for, in context, they offer 1itt1e

illumination of the compositions to which they are app1ied. However,

one illustration does exceed the constraints of most. Instead of

categorica11y discounting< the work as excessive1y pianistic, Harvey Grace,

in assessing the merits of Liszt's Ad nos and its neworgan style,

imposes a value judgment with the probable intention of sentencing the

new idiom to ob1ivion.

Nor is this neg1ect [of Liszt's organ works in the ear1y

twentieth century) undeserved, if we may be1ieve the critics
who tell us that these works show to a fatal degree their
composer's weakness in thematic invention, besides too often
emp10ying an idiom suggestive of the wrong side of the
church door. 8

Such pronouncements are Intolerant and without justification. They are

symptematic of a conservatism that has permeated the aesthetics of

organ 1iterature for the past hundred years. Without a doubt the

evo1ution of an organ style took place under somewhat artificial

circumstances, for it was not subjected to the same externa1 influences

as other mediums. The instrument was segregated from the mainstream of

musical deve10pment. Its surviva1 was not dependent on mass approva1,

8Harvey Grace, "Liszt and the Organ," Musical Times, LVIII

(August, 1917), p. 357.
 12

nor was its art stimulated by the growing commercialization of the era.

Even in terms of stylistic change, the organ was somewhat insulated

from radical experimentation in composition, for implicit in the

mores of society were those criteria which defined the musical style

appropriate to the sanctuary. Notwithstanding the deterring forces of

isolationism, and the prejudicial efforts of twentieth-century musicians

to bury the masterpieces of the previous century, the organ not only

survived, but its style was revolutionized.

The time has come to formulate a definition of piano and organ

style, and while a democratic approach would treat each instrument

equally, the thrust of this paper is to prove that the two ,styles are

individual and that the organ style is indeed idiomatic to the instrument.

With the radical transformation of both instruments and repertoires,

the nineteenth century offers the most suitable material to determine

mutual influences and growing differentiation~of style. Although an

evolutionary study would provide the most fertile material, the scope of

the investigation would prove to be much too unwieldy. A more concise

treatment and an equally reliable one is to confine the investigation to

one composer who wrote imaginatively for both instruments. Franz Liszt

is the natural choice, for he was largely responsible for liberating the

approach to keyboard composition and realizing the full potential of

both instruments. To arrive at sorne definition of organ style through

analysis of music written by an organist primarily, would be useful but

perhaps not entirely unbiased; whereas arriving at a definition of organ

style through organ music written by a composer who was first a pianist

would be far more conclusive. 1s it not reasonable that a pianist­

composer when writing for organ will be influenced by his knowledge of

 13

pianism, and if he arrives at a truly individual organ style, he will

have been successful in shedding the pianistic techniques and thoroughly

indoctrinating himse1f in the language and potentiality of the organ?

It is my opinion that Liszt accomplished such a feat and, because of

him, new dimensions were added to the instrument.

Of aIl th.e composers of the nineteenth century, Liszt was the

most active in adapting his own works from one keyboard instrument to

another, presenting to us the most convenient models for comparison.

Although the process of transcription may be an inhibiting factor, the

analyst, in working with thematic material common to the two instruments,

is not saddled with the problem of distinguishing between the

compositional technique which is most suitable to the instrument and

that which is a natural expression of a musical idea. To be sure, the

two are nearly Inseparable in analysis but are a subconscious part of

the compositional process. For the most part, a composer in writing for

a particular instrument is constantly involved in decision-making,

accepting or rejecting an idea first on musical grounds and then for its

compatibility with the instrument. The effectiveness of the final

composition is largely determined by the quality of decisions made

earlier, for the work is judged both in terms of musical content and

appropriateness to the medium. Let it be understood that the problem

proposed in this paper could be resolved by comparing compositions which

are thematically unrelated, but which share sorne other common denominator.

The decision to concentrate on the music of Liszt is not only one of

convenience, but is based on the fact that Liszt stands as the most

influential figure in the evolution of both piano and organ style.

 14

Research on most any aspect of the nineteenth century is not

without its prob1ems, because much is still to be done on even the most

fundamenta1 issues. Scholarship pertaining to Liszt is sûnilar1y

incomp1ete, and, although sorne standard studies in German and French

have been translated into English, there is still a noticeable

deficiency of any new endeavors in the 1ast thirty years.

Discussion of organ music in the biographies of Liszt is

especially perfunctory. Only a few pages are devoted to the entire

area of organ and offer little more than data concerning the composition

and performance of the most well-known works. 9 The authors who address

themselves more to the music than to the man stress Liszt's development

in piano and orchestral composition and direct little discussion to his

contributions for organ. 10 A few authors have dealt exclusively with

the organ music of Liszt in periodicals, but their discussion focuses on

selected works. ll In 1917 Harvey Grace attempted to balance the more

restrictive view of Liszt as piano composer with a survey of sorne of his

organ compositions. Even though his intentions were sincere, he

9Ernest Newman, The Man Liszt: A Study of the Tragi-Comedy of

a Soul Divided against Itself (London: Cassell and Co., Ltd., 1934);
Sacheverell Sitwell, Liszt (Rev. ed.; London: Cassell and Co., Ltd.,
1955). Republished by Dover Publications, Inc., 1967.

lOpeter Raabe, Franz Liszt (2 vOls.; Tutzing: Hans Schneider,

1968); Humphrey Searle, The Music of Liszt (London: Williams and
Norgate Ltd., 1954); Alan Walker, ed., Franz Liszt: The Man and His
Music (London: Barrie and Jenkins, 1970).

llHarvey Grace, "Liszt and the Organ," Musical Times, LVIII

(August, 1917), pp. 357-60; Howard Bakken, "Liszt and the Organ,"
Diapason, LX (May, 1969), pp. 27-29; Humphrey Searle, "Liszt's Organ
Music," Musical Times, CXII (June, 1971), pp. 597-98.
 15

occasionally stooped to derogatory remarks about his subject. Over

fifty years elapsed before the next publication, a more thorough and

unbiased essay by Howard Bakken. Besides capsulizing the merits of an

even larger organ repertoire, Bakken gives a documented history of

Liszt's relationship to the organ. The article of Humphrey Searle is

derived from the chapter on organ and choral music in his book, The

Music of Liszt. It makes sorne perceptive observations on the

relationship of the organ works to Liszt's total output.

The only full-scale investigation of the organ works of Liszt is

the dissertation of Peter Schwarz published in German. 12 Schwarz

discusses organ music in the nineteenth century and sketches the per­

sonality of Liszt in,relation ta the philosophical forces of his times.

About two-thirds of the study is devoted to an analysis of the Fantasie

and Fuge on "Ad nos," the Prelude and Fuge on B-A-C-H, the Variations

on "Weinen, Klagen," the Missa pro Organa and the Reguiem for organ.

A comprehensive discussion of fonn in the selected organ works of Liszt

concludes the investigation.

The accessibility of scores poses still another obstacle in the

study of Liszt. A New Edition of the Complete Works, projected in seven

series totalling about eighty volumes, was inaugurated in Hungary in

1970, but is far from completion. The Liszt Society has assembled a

small percentage of the works, numbering only five volumes. At present,

the Collected Works published by Breitkopf & Hartel and reprinted by

l2peter Schwarz, Studien zur Orgelmusik Franz Liszts: Ein

Beitrag zur Geschichte der Orgelkomposition im 19. Jahrhundert, Vol. III
of Berliner Musikwissenschaftliche Arbeiten, ed. Carl Dahlhaus and
Rudolf Stephan (Münchens Musikverlag Emil Katzbichler, 1973).
 16

Gregg Press provides the largest source of Liszt's music. l3 Brief

examples of piano literature which are included in the text are taken

from this publication.

The organ works have not been touched in any of the above

collections, but have been published independently by several different

"
ed1tors. 14 Karl Straube was the first to edit the organ works and his

two-volume collection, however incomplete, did much to draw attention to

~

Liszt's productivity for organ. Several decades later Marcel Dupre

edited only the three pieces discussed in this paper, making substantial

changes in the text. In 1970, two different editions were issued by

Editio Musica, a shorter collection by Sebesty:n P~csi and a four-volume

set by S~ndor Margittay.

Perhaps the most perplexing problem in researching the

compositional style of Liszt is to arrive at the most authentic version

of the music. In sorne cases this is nearly impossible, because notations

were added in manuscripts and early editions by other writers. The

enlarged edition by Margittay is the most fully documented, with sources

designated in the Critical Commentary. Examples of organ works quoted

within this paper are taken from this edition. While Pécsi and

Margittay editions are very similar, more notable disparity exists between

13Franz Liszt, Neue Ausgabe samtliche Werke (Budapest: Editio

Musica; Kassel: Barenreiter, 1970); Liszt Society Publications (5 vols.;
London: Schott, n.d.); Franz Liszt, Musikalische Werke, ed. by
Franz Liszt-Stiftung (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1907-36), Republished
by Gregg Press Ltd., 1966.

l4Franz Liszt, Orgelkompositionen, ed. by Karl Straube (2 vols.;

Leipzig and New York: C. F. Peters Corp., 1903); Franz Liszt, Trois
Oeuvres our or ue revues annotéés et doi tèes ar Marcel Du ré
(Paris: S. Bornemann, 1941); sszes orgonamüve, ed. by Sandor Margittay
(4 vols.; Budapest: Editio Musica, 1970); Ferenc Liszt, Négy Orgonam~,
ed. by Sebestyén Pécsi (Budapest: Editio Musica, 1970).
 17

the other two. The differences in editions which were peculiar to a

specifie work are discussed in their respective chapters. In general,

the editions vary extensively in practices of doubling. Dupré

consistently reduces the number of doubled tones and avoids duplicating

the manual bass line in the pedal or even writing pedal notes in

octaves. Straube is boldly the opposite, indulging in a profusion of

doublings both in manuals and perlal, while Margittay and pécsi stand

midway, not touching either extreme. Considerable variation also

arises in dynrunic markings, manual changes, articulation and phrase

groupings, but again references to these are made later in the texte

While many books have traced the evolution of keyboard style

in the Romantic era and others have focused on the compositional styles

of an individual composer, there has been no attempt to compare the

development of piano and organ style. Authors may comment on style in

judgmental terms, yet no one has been sufficiently motivated to define

the terminology used or to embark on a more broadly-based study. There

is no question that this is virgin territory in music research.

Hopefully, this paper will serve to present the problem and

will begin to focus the findings toward sorne definition of keyboard

style.
 CHAPTER l

LISZT AS PIANO COMPOSER

Any discussion which attempts to measure the stature of Liszt as

a composer is never an impartial one, for the argument of each side is

debated with conviction and sometimes emotion. The protagonists, not

in accord with the vogue of the times, courageously defend Liszt as a

man of artistic merit possessing strength in compositional technique and

an imagination of limitless dimensions. 1 In their view, he rises far

lHerbert Westerby, Liszt, Composer and His Piano Works (London:

William Reeves Ltd., 1936), pp. 229-30: " • • • there are a few bold
spirits with the larger vision, who place him among our greatest
composers; others again deny this, saying thus: '(1) He was lacking in
originality and spontaneity, (2) proper development of ideas, and
(3) his creations were neither abundant nor varied enough.' Liszt,
like aIl great men, was an innovator--we are indebted, as Prof. Niecks
puts it, 'for the many impulses and suggestions he has given to his
innovations in harmony, form, orchestration, pianoforte style, etc.
Wagner confessed himself a debtor to Liszt, the harmonist.' Prof.
Niecks continues: 'We are indebted also to Liszt for perfect art
works, many beautiful little things, sorne beautiful large ones, and
innumerable beautiful parts of large ones which as wholes fail to
reach perfection. ,It Ates Orga, "Franz Liszt: Time for Reassessment,"
Musical Opinion, XCVI (July, 1973), p. 513: Writing of Busoni as
supporter of Liszt's compositional talent, "In a biography and
critical monograph published in 1900, Busoni wrote of Bach as the
Alpha of keyboard composition and Liszt as its Omega." Busoni, in
the introduction to the Studies (Berlin, September, 1909) writes:
"The studies in their entirety give as do no other of his works the
picture of Liszt's pianistic personality in seed, in growth and finally
in self-clarification. These 58 pianoforte pieces alone would place
Liszt in the rank of the greatest 'pianoforte' composers since
Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, Alkan, Brahms. The col1ected edition •
will prove that Liszt towers above aIl these composers in his command
over pianistic forms."

18
 19

above his contemporaries, for his music transcends the superficiality

of pure exhibitionism and communicates a feeling, an idea. The

antagonists, on the other hand, vociferously condemn him as a composer

without taste·and of limited inspiration who submitted to the demands

of an uneducated audience for spectacle rather than artistry.2 "He used

too many notes" is the battle-cry of discerning musicians and critics,

who, ironically, living in the affluence of the twentieth century, offer

accolades to composers who sculpt their work from a minimum of material,

2Daniel Gregory Mason, The Romantic Composers (London:

MacMillan and Co. Ltd., 1936), pp. 331-33: "These grimaces and airs,
thin masks as they are to the heart of the man, have unfortunately
projected themselves over into his music, and what is more surprising,
have imposed upon countless listeners, and even trained critics, who
have somehow failed to discern their artificiality. They are traceable
chiefly in the fundamental themes; for however skilfully a musician may
master his technic, however much he may learn to make of his original
ideas by a clever treatment, he cannot materially alter these
instinctive thoughts of his mind; in them he stands revealed for what
he finally and essentially is. Now, despite aIl the mental virtuosity
with which Liszt develops his ideas, a virtuosity as astounding, and
possibly as deceptive, as the physical virtuosity for which he is more
famous, the ideas themselves are for the most part connnonplace. They
are not spontaneous expressions of his own feeling, but studied efforts
to impress his audience. They strut and maunder before us just as
'The Master' strutted and maundered, tossed his hair, fixed his eyes on
heaven, threw his hands in air, crouched over the keys, smiled and
almost wept, before his audience. They are written, not from the heart,
but 'to the gallery'; their magniloquence is rhetoric, their sparkle
is of tinsel, their sentiment is sentimentality. Liszt does not
alternate, like Beethoven, Schumann, Tschaikowsky, or any composer who
is profoundly in earnest, between manly force and feminine tenderness;
he alternates between empty pomposity and equally empty mawkishness."
Orga, "Liszt Reassessment," p. 512, Quote of Chopin: "When l think of
Liszt as a creative artist, he appears before my eyes rouged, on stilts,
and blowing into Jericho trumpets fortissimo and pianissimo--or l see
him discoursing on art, on the nature of creativeness and on how one
should crea te. Yet as a creator he is an aSSe He knows everything
better than anyone. He wants to attain Parnassus on another man's
Pegasus. This is entre nous--he is an excellent binder who puts other
people's works between his covers • • • a clever craftsman without a
vestige of talent."
 20

and thereby value economy of means as much or more than the imaginative,

yet undiscip1ined, spirit. The unfortunate aspect of this controversy is

that both sides pursue their case with such venom that they become

blinded to the insights of the opposing viewpoint.

It appears that the intensity of the dispute is proportionate to

the complexity of the problem for, in a word, Liszt was an enigma,

manifesting attitudes which were philosophically irreconcilable. As a

matter of fact, his whole life-style defied categorization. 3 For

instance, to identify him as Hungarian, French, German or Italian would

be artificial, for Liszt was acosmopolitan in the broadest sense of the

word. His geographical heritage, his cultural tastes, his appreciation

of music could not be restricted to one area. Moreover, an attractive

appearance and an imposing bearing coupled with a talent par excellence

insured his access to the prominent social circles of many cities. Yet

this same hero was also a Christian believer of profound conviction.

As a performer he was inimitable, and though his rank as foremost

virtuoso was challenged by other contemporary talents, he always emerged

the victor. The public worshipped him, an attitude which is repeatedly

documented in letters and reviews. One of his students, Wilhelm von Lenz,

3westerby, Liszt, p. 227: Liszt himself was aware of the

public's difficulty in placing him into a convenient mold and "in
writing Louis Kohler in 1859, he refers to the latter's observation
that people cannot immediately 'label and catalogue me correctly and
place me in an already existing drawer.' While he always advised
friends not to perform his works, he admits (in 1867), frankly, 'that
it would be very agreeable to me to stand in a somewhat better light
in Vienna as a composer than l have hitherto done. But the time has
not come for that--and if it should ever come, half a dozen of my
compositions, for instance, the l3th Psalm, the ffFaust" and "Dante"
Symphonies, sorne of the Symphonic Poems and even horribile dictu:
the "Prometheus" chorus, would have to be introduced to the public in
proper style.'"
 21

writes in 1872:

Nothing could be more foolish than to attempt to imitate

Liszt, or even to use him as a standard by which to criticise
others. Where Liszt appears, aIl other pianists disappear;
there remains only the piano, and that trembles in its whole
body!4

The same free spirit which contributed to his social demeanor

also spilled over into his receptivity to a variety of musical styles.

In public he programmed the popular transcriptions and salon pieces of

the virtuosi, while in private he played the entire spectrum of

repertoire: pieces by Bach, Scarlatti, Beethoven, Hummel, Weber and

his own works. Eve~ more curiously, Liszt entered into a most intense

love affair with Italian music of the day, a situation which would

have been intolerable to the serious school of Brahms and Clara Schumann.

Sacheverell Sitwell points to this phase as a weaknes~, largely

responsible for damaging his reputation and a probable source of the

long-standing controversy over Liszt's value to the art of music.

If he was disliked on the one side for his sensational

modernities, he was despised by the same trend of opinion
for his retrograde tendencies, and he was accused of making
music cheap and trivial. This trouble was connected with
his liking for Italian music. His detractors looked with
horror upon Italian opera. It was partly a question of
nationality, and then, again, the dislike was tinged with
jealousy. The great names of northern music, save for Handel
and Haydn, had perished in poverty. The fate of Mozart, of
Beethoven, of Schubert, made the affluence of Italian operatic
composers an insupportable insult, and if they were so popular
as that they were doomed, at any rate in the next world. No
musician of serious intentions could have any concern with them.
Great composers of different origin thought otherwise, so long
as they did not come from Germany. That is why both Chopin
and Tchaikowsky were not ashamed to admit their love for
Bellini. And a man with the omnivorous musical interest of
Liszt cou Id not be blind to their merit. Their large, open
melodies held a genuine appeal for his ear, and while it is

4wilhelm von Lenz, The Great Piano Virtuosos of Our Time,

rev. translation ed. by Philip Reder (London: Regency Press Ltd.,
1971), p. 8.
 22

freely admitted that his arrangements of Schubert's songs are

surpassingly beautiful--to the extent that SOrne critics would
say they are the best, or even the only good things that Liszt
accomplished--his fantasias upon Italian operas are lightly
put aside and allowed no consideration whatever. 5

The phenomenon of virtuosity

in the nineteenth century

To understand Liszt as a composer and performer, we are obliged

to examine more fully the age in which he lived, analyzing the pressures

which influenced his behavior and shaped his art. Although no study

can afford to'separate the creator from his environment, the gregarious

nature of Liszt and his interaction with the general public as a

performing artist makes the association of creator with environment even

stronger here.

Scholars have begun the quest for a more accurate definition of

Romanticism. Understandably their research has done more to pose new

questions than to answer old ones, and the scope of their study has

grown to gigantic proportions. So far, the fruit of their labors has

been to identify the forces which affected art forms (longing for

escapism, the taste for exoticism), and to come to grips with the values

that dictated behavior, a probing of the nineteenth-century psyche.

Surveying the general trends only, Schumann, in regard to piano

music of the l830's, identified two distinct streams of musical

expression: the prosaic and the poetic. More will be written later on

the character of each, but briefly, the prosaic was represented by a

vast nurnber of virtuosi who were more enthralled with music which

displayed technical prowess than musical content. The poetic abhorred

such empty utterances and championed an art form whose thematic material

5Sitwell, Liszt, pp. 67-68.

 23

was substantial and tightly constructed, and that refrained from arrogant

exhibitionism. Each was measured by a different set of values so that

the dichotomy between the two became irreconcilable. The birth of the

poetic stream was fairly clear-cut; it grew out of a negative reaction

to the prosaic. But the birth of the prosaic was indebted to a number

of extra-musical forces. Alexander L. Ringer" in an article entitled

"Musical Taste and the Industrial Syndrome," addresses himself to the

broader issue of music as a product of society. He reminds us that

musical taste and the related subject of musical publics have received

little scholarly attention, and"that musical compositions are rarely,

if ever, examined in terms appropriate to the industrial world from which

they emerged is due no doubt to the pervasive romantic conception of

music as a human con'cern well beyond the material confines of everyday

rea l 1Oty. ,,6

The relationship of the performer to the consumer can be deferred

no longer, for the very existence of the nineteenth-century virtuoso can

be attributed to the demands of the general public which functioned as a

first-classpressure group. The audience of the nineteenth century was

unquestionably a less educated body, often insensitive to the more subtle

art foons, preferring quantity of sonority to subt1ety of execution.

Ringer notes that "the rapid expansion of sonorous resources genera11y

went hand in hand with the broadening of a social base on which music as

an art was destined to flourish throughout the nineteenth century.,,7

6Alexander L. Ringer, "Musical Taste and the Industrial Syndrome,"

International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music, V (June,
1974), p. 140.

7Ibid ., p. 141.
 24

Since concert life determined by the box office was essentially

a nineteenth-century phenomenon, a chain reaction developed between

size of audience and style of literature. That is, the increased ticket

sales at the box office prompted the use of larger co~cert halls which

in turn required even greater volumes of sound. The commercialization

of musical life brought with it the rise of the orchestra and the soloist

as showman because the bigger and better orchestra and the virtuoso

performer, who could play more notes faster than anyone else, "thoroughly

satisfied the penchant for quantitative • • • appreciation by a budding

, acqu is1t1ve
·· . t y. .,,8
SOC1e

Thus, as so often in history, this particular trademark of

the romantic era was indebted to a number of direct stimuli,
all functions of the same root condition, in this instance
the growing power of a class which found in music an outlet
more responsive to its emotiona~ needs than any other
traditional branch of the arts. .

The nineteenth century did not create the concept of

virtuosity;lO rather it glorified the performer and his showmanship

to an unprecedented degree that virtuosity became an inseparable force

of commercialism in art. As the century wore on, it became more usual

for a performer to entrust his whole reputation and livelihood to his

capabilities as a performing artiste Such a career lost sorne of its

8
Ibid., p. 142.
9 Ibid •
10Marc Pincherle in his article "Virtuosity," tranSe by Willis
Wager, Musical Quarterly, XXXV (April, 1949), pp. 226-43 traces the
history of the virtuoso to the Renaissance and Alexander L. Ringer, in
a panel discussion reacting to an article by Robert Wangermée, recorded
in "Tradition et innovation dans la virtuosité romantique," Acta
Musicologica, XLIII (July-December, 1971), pp. 114-25, pushes back the
dates still further identifying the melismatic organa of the l2th and
early l3th centuries as manifestations of virtuosity.
 25

risk when the skills were refined to such an extent that the audience

regarded the performance as awe-inspiring and bordering on the demonic,

so that the performing artist was able to enjoy the advantages that

were formerly bestowed on the creative artist alone.

Paris was the center of the pianistic world in those days.

Performers like Kalkbrenner, Herz, Hiller, Henselt, Pixis, Thalberg and

Moscheles spent their lives bringing their fingers to an unbelievable

state of perfection. Sorne even specialized in a particular branch of

technique: Kalkbrenner in crystal-clear passage work, Thalberg in

creating the auraI illusion of two hands sounding like three and

Dreyschock who exploited his octave technique by playing the left hand

passage work of Chopin's "Revolutionary Etude" entirely in octaves. Il

With the sudden development of virtuosity came a'new and

imposing body of bravura piano music intended to exploit the most

demanding virtuosic capabilities as weIl as to insure the artist of

making an indelible impression on his audience. Sorne of the repertoire

composed by Chopin achieved this end, but there was also an abundance of

transcriptions of other popular compositions originally written for

other instrumental or vocal combinations. Opera, now a theatre for the

masses, was a reliable source of' this music for appeal and it may be

said that the transference of orchestral and operatic literature to the

piano was largely responsible for the rise of nineteenth-century pianism.

The people were clamoring for the tunes they knew, and so the

virtuoso accommodated their demands by adapting literature to an

instrument which was not yet developed to accomplish the-effects or

llAlan Walker, "Liszt's Musical Background," in Franz Liszt:

The Man and His Music, ed. by Alan Walker (London: Barrie and Jenkins,
1971), p. 41.
 26

withstand the strains. The pianoforte at the beginning of the nineteenth

"
century was essentially a delicate instrument. It suffered primarily

from a somewhat inflexible playing action, a limited level of volume

and a lack of sustaining power. In addition, the sound that was

available did not have adequate projection for the enlarged dimensions of

the concert hall. Builders, in an effort to compensate for the

shortcomings of the instrument, invented a vast assortment of devices

to prolong the sound and add a wealth of color effects. Among the most

popular was the addition of an organ attachment. An instrument built by

Thomas Kunz of Prague between 1796 and 1798 was in the form of what is

now called a "grand pianoforte" and had an organ attachment consisting

of 360 pipes. There were 230 strings and 150 changes of registration. 12

In later years, the options were to be increased to include harmonium

and aeolian attachments as weIl as the impractical invention of Liszt,

the piano-harmonium (see Chapter II).

Most of the devices, because of their ineffectiveness, were

short-lived and served to detour the pianoforte from its ultimate

destiny. Sorne musicians, like Czerny, had sufficient foresight to

evaluate the "extras" as irrelevant to the artistic needs of the piano.

In fact, in his Pianoforte School, Czerny spoke out against the increasing

paraphernalia of the instrument and asserted that only three pedals were

necessary: the Damper (Forte), Una Corda (Verschiebung), and Piano

(Piano) pedals. AlI others were "childish toys.,,13

12Rosamond E. M. Harding, The Piano-Forte: Its History Traced

to the Great Exhibition of 1851 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1933), p. 91.

l3 Ibid ., p. 113.
 27

The instrument that was to fu1fi11 the expectations of

nineteenth-century composers was made a rea1ity by two significant

,
improvements. In 1821 Sebastian Erard invented the repetition action

which was to form the working basis of nearly aIl double escapement

actions of the present day. This increased the flexibility of the

action and permitted a rapid-fire repetition of keys. The second

invention, a meta1 frame to strengthen the tone, gained general

acceptance on1y after a protracted period of time. As octaves were

added to the upper range which increased the tension on the case and

sound-board, so the incorporation of the metal frame became a dire

necessity. In 1825 A1pheus Babcock of Boston patented a cast-Iron

frame, an invention that found favor with the French and Danish builders,

but not with the English, Germans and Austrians. Broadwood's Iron grand

model of 1851 was the first pianoforte to be built in England with a

complete metal frame. However, it was not until 1855 when Steinway

and Sons of New York demonstrated that noverstrung scaling with a solid

Iron frame could yield the desired volume and quality of tone that the

battle for the Iron frame was won • .,14 Thus, by the middle of the

nineteenth century the piano was developed to be the instrument largely

known today.

In discussing the characteristics of a repertoire, one cannot

separate it from the instrument for which it was intended. As the

changes in the nineteenth-century pianoforte have been summarized here,

so considerable space will be given later to the various streams of

organ design. In a study which is seeking to establish the individualism

of each instrument, one can observe even at the outset that the piano and

14Ibid ., p. 208.
 28

organ were pursuing divergent paths, the separating force being a

psychological one to instrument builders and composers. The question

of whether the literatureis-conceived for the instrument or the

instrument is built for the literature is pertinent to our study. As

we shall observe later in this paper, in the field of organ, not only

is the literature inseparable from its instrument, but it is in fact

stimulated by it and the study of any composer must be prefaced by a

review of the organs which he knew.

Conversely, the development of the piano was directly

stimulated by the literature already intended for it. As stated

earlier, the immense popularity of the orchestral and operatic literature

forced theperformers to produce solo reductions for an instrument which

was incapable of reatizing them. Since the transfer fr~m transcription

to original piano literature is a relatively small step, we May conclude

that the refined nineteenth-century pianoforte was not responsible for

the literature, but was rather a product of the musical demands of the

day.

The nineteenth century was overwbelmed by an art that was

saturated with spectacle. As the instrument was streamlined to a greater

state of perfection, so the performers indulged the public in the

sensationalism they enjoyed. Likewise as the pianoforte was adopted as

a popular accessory to family living, so the music markets of aIl Europe

were inundate~ by a flood of piano music by the Parisian pianists and

their imitators. "A casual comparison of publishers' lists of. piano

music in the mid-1830's from France, England, Germany and Austria reveals
 29

startling uniformity • • • • Music in this style was supposed to be as

brilliant as poss~ble--but not too difficult."IS

Dismayed by the prosaic qualities which surrounded them,

another group of composers, challenging the values of their contemporar­

ies, set out in a totally different direction. By comparison, this new

stream of pianism was poetic, striving to enrich the tradition of

Beethoven who, in their minds, was the champion of subjective musical

expression. Schumann became their most ardent spokesman, and in 1835

he became editor of the Neue Zeitung für Musik, an effective platform

for his crusade. Plantinga relates the objectives which Schumann set

forth in the preface to the first edition of his Gesammelte Schriften,

published in 1854:

The Neue Zeitung für Musik was to wage war against the
degraded musical taste in his country. The most conspicuous
symptom of musical degradation in Germany in the l830's was,
to Schumann's mind, the cult of the piano virtuoso.1 6

While other musical journals extolled the work of Herz, Thalberg,

Meyerbeer and others, Schumann's journal was championing the less

popular works of Schubert, Chopin, Berlioz, and Brahms~ Schumann

entered the arena of music criticism because he was appalled at the

quality of piano music especially in Ge~any; but he was ultimately

spurred into action because he was angered by the laissez-faire

attitude of the contemporary journals. His purpose was essentially a

didactic one, and in July, 1837, he implemented plans to enlarge the

journal with music supplements. By attaching the music to the review,

15
Leon B. Plantinga, Schumann as Critic (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1967), p. 21.

l6 Ibid ., p. 16.
 30

the reader was more readily able to perceive the editors' ideas about

what constituted good music. Evidently the journal accomplished its

ends, and when after 1840 Schumann's interest and activity in the

journal declined, "the most vacuous of the virtuoso piano composers had

either retired or lost public favor.,,17 The poetic stream finally

emerged victorious and Chopin, Berlioz and Schumann were now recognized

in Germany.

Liszt's contributions as a performer

Into the midst of this controversy stepped Liszt, who, if a

compromise had been feasible, could have served as mediator. His

position was unique for, at once, he was prosaic and poetic, a living

testimonial of nineteenth-century pianism. Although he was much-acclaimed

throughout Europe for his astonishing feats of pianism, his abilities were

de-valued by his detractors as being merely prosaic because he programmed

the more public-pleasing spectacles. However, as a composer Liszt

sought not only to create showcases for his virtuosity, but works of

musical substance as weIl. His ingenuity produced some remarkable

masterpieces, identifying him, in retrospect, as a directional current

in the poetic stream. He gave evidence of his concern toward the

uplifting of musical values in the B-minor Sonata where "he is said to

have written 'Für die Murlbibliothek' on the autograph, meaning

appropriate for his clique known as 'The Society of Murls' and devoted

to the advancement of the 'New German' school against the Philistines.,,18

l7Ibid ., p. 58n.

l8William S. Newman, The Sonata Since Beethoven (Chapel Hill,

N. C.: University of North Carolina Press, 1969), p. 365.
 31

Thus Lisz~ who had been distrusted for his proclivity to exhibitionism,

aligned himself with his detractors against the common en~my of

Philistinism. Evidently he longed to be received into the inner-circle

of Schumann, to be counted among Schubert, Chopin and Berlioz. But

Schumann always exercised reserve. He considered Liszt, along with

Thalberg, as the best of the virtuoso pianists but disliked the music

he programmed. There were only two full-sized reviews by Schumann of

Liszt's own music and these pre-date Liszt's most important compositions

--the extended piano pieces, orchestral works and concertos all came

later. 19 On the other hand,

Liszt was one of Schumann's staunchest supporters; he played

more of his music than anyone with the exception of Clara,
and in 1837 he published a glowing account of Schumann's
piano music--at a time when his works were scarcely known
in Paris--in the Revue et Gazette musicale. Schumann was
appreciative, and his personal relations with the virtuoso
were always cordial; but his writing about Liszt--especially
Liszt the composer--remained cautious. 20

Liszt moved to Paris in 1823 and began to scale the heights as

a performer in 1824, identifying himself almost immediately with the

prosaic cult of virtuosity. His development and exploitation of a

technique was so remarkable that the audiences were ready to attribute

his ability to demonic forces within. Reinforced by a handsome

appearance and irresistible charm, Liszt took advantage of the

gullibility of the audience and assumed the role of an actor. He

deliberately imitated the practice of Paganini, whose whole demeanor at

concerts was to suggest possession of satanic powers. The use of a

black costume, haughty posturing, elaborate gesturing and an emaciated

19P1antinga, Schumann as Cri tic, pp. 214-15.

20Ib id., p. 218.

 32

visage a11 were necessary accoutrements to fostering such an

image.

While Paganini promoted a Faustian character whose powers were

derivative from Satan, Liszt rejected the horror disguise and cultivated

an aura of the supernatural which emanated from the divine. Contemporary

accounts of his playing differ in tone but, for the most part, praise

his feats as a pianist and stress the ease with which he accomplished

them.

Not that Liszt, in the accounts that are left to us of his

playing, was the protagonist of noise and thunder. Quite
the contrary, 'tLiszt hardly' ever used his muscular
prowess • • • the great chaDn of his playing lay in the
delicate and subtle, and not in the muscular and power­
ful •••.• l was inspired to notice that as he left the
piano, not a trace of perspiration or fatigue was
noticeable on his face or hands. M Thus, Strelezki, who
was a pupil; and there are many other concurrent accounts
of his playing~lwith perhaps only the violinist Joachim
for dissident.

And it was again Saint-Saëns who made the absolutely correct

observation:
"As against Beethoven, who held in contempt the limitations
of the body and imposed his tyrannical will on overworked
and frustrated fingers, Liszt takes those fingers and
exercises them naturally so as to obtain the maximum effect
of which they are capable without doing violence to them.
Thus- his music, frightening as it is at first sight to the
timid, is in reality less difficult than it appears."22

l write to you without knowing what my pen ;s scribbling,

because at this moment Liszt is playing my Etudes, and
transporting me out of my respectable thoughts. l should
like to steal from him the way to play my own Études. 23

21Sacheverell Sitwell, "Liszt: A Character Study," in

Franz Liszt: The Man and His Music, ed. by Alan Walker (New York:
Taplinger Publishing Co., 1970), p. 10.

22Claude Rostand, Liszt, tranSe by John Victor (London:

Calder and Boyars, 1972), p. 105.

23Sitwell, Liszt, p. 92.

 33

Spurred on by the sensationa1ism of Paganini, Liszt app1ied

himse1f to exp10ring the wea1th of technica1 resources still untapped

by the virtuosos of his day and sought to be to the piano what

Paganini was to the viol in. Liszt first heard Paganini play in 1831 and

he immediately set about to transfer the technical experiments and

effects from the violin to the piano. The twenty-four Capricci for

the violin had been published by Paganini about 1830,. and Liszt began

the translation with his Opus 2: Grande Fantaisie sur la Clochette

de Paganini which was finished in 1834. This proved of such excessive

difficulty that it was published in revised form in 1838. The final

.".
version of the Paganini Etudes did not appear until 1851.

Liszt does not simply choose to adapt the thematic content

of the variations for piano, but he de1iberate1y sets out to handicap

the p1ayer so that the technical demands of the piano are equivalent to

those of the violin. One particular technique, attributed to Thalberg,

astonished the audiences and eventually became the property of Liszt's

technique also. It required the thumbs to share the me10dy notes in

the middle register while surrounded by arpeggios both above and

be10w, thus giving a three-hand effect. In the first etude Liszt

augments the popular device by giving the illusion of four hands, one

of the best illustrations of Liszt "registering" his music through the

layering of textures. 24 In the violin version, the second etude is a

study in scales and double stops. To simply duplicate the materia1 for

piano would have been too simple, so Liszt, with great cunning, imposes

comparable obstacles on the piano keyboard. As the vio1inist must shift

instantly from the high to low string, so the pianist now must not only

24oRostand, L·l .SZ t , p. 108 •

 34

shift abruptly from high to low register, but cross hands as weIl. Here

also we encounter a profusion of octaves with the thumbs prominent, a

technique favored by Liszt, not only in his own works but also in the

performance of others, and thus came to be known as "Liszt octaves."

Rapid note repetitions, once the sole domain of the violinist,

""
enters piano literature by way of Erard's double-escapement action. The

third etude, "La Campanella", not only exploits repeated notes but uses

wide leaps, trills, chroma tic and diatonic runs and repeated octaves and

explores the piano's full dynamic range. Liszt's concept of orchestral

sonority at the piano is largely the product of freely-woven textures

which bring about a variegated palette of tonal colors. Never is the

application more simplistic than in the fifth ~tude where the concept is

no longer inferred but is specifically indicated as imitando il Flauto

and imitando il Corna. The last etude, a set of variations, contains

rapid passage work of double thirds marked with consecutive 4 fingering

2
and octaves with thirds.

Besides expanding the resources most natural ta the piano, Liszt

successfully surmounts the most unidiomatic problem of the instrument,

,
that of unlimited sustained sound. In the last Paganini Etude Liszt

places a trill in the inner voice to give the illusion of a sustained

effect without generating motion. Throughout the ~tude the style of

writing consists of a melody with cantabile elements in it moving in

slow notes and accompanied by an extremely rapid virtuoso figuration.

Liszt favors this technique and incorporates variations of it in many of

""
the Transcendental Etudes.
 35

Liszt's career as a composer

of piano music
'"
A1though the discussion of the Paganini Etudes provides a fair1y

complete summary of the pianistic devices which Liszt incorporated into

his music, it does not provide a true profile of Liszt as piano

composer. The range of his compositiona1 expression is far too

diversified to be appreciated within the bounds of a single work. In

fact, Liszt was no more a thoroughbred as a composer than as a virtuoso.

Even though he surpassed a11 his contemporaries in sheer technica1

prowess, as a performer he continua11y en1arged his repertoire to

inc1ude the more erudite compositions of Chopin, Schumann and ear1ier

masters. Likewise, when he 1aunched his career as a composer, he was

not content to write superficia1 ~tudes, but aspired to pieces of more

substantia1 nature where pianistic effects were subservient to thematic

content. A1though he may have been catapu1ted to fame for 1ess than

inte11ectua1 abi1ities, he understood good music and aspired to make

his compositiona1 work a part of it. More so than most composers,

Liszt was subject to diverse influences: Beethoven, Chopin, the

Bel Canto of the Ita1ians of the eighteenth century, so-ca11ed gypsy

music, half-folk music of Italy, Spanish popular music, Gregorian Chant,

and Wagner. He was an ec1ectic in the best sense of the word--one who

took from a11 foreign sources but still gave of himse1f. 25

Liszt did not devote himse1f exclusively to composition unti1

re1atively 1ate in 1ife. It was not unti1 the 1ate 1840's, when his

concert career bad waned, that Liszt wrote or comp1eted bis first works

25B~la Bart~k, "The Liszt Problems,n transe by Colin Mason,

Month1y Musical Record, LXXVIII (October, 1948), pp. 200-01.
 36

for orchestra: the symphonie poems, the Faust and Dante Symphonies,

the two piano concertos and others. The list of works is impressive

and reflect a man who applied himself diligently to his craft.

Of course through the years, composition for piano had

intertwined itself with his career as a performing artiste In the

1830's and 1840's his musical composition emphasized those genres most

closely associated with concertizing--études, operatic transcriptions

and other forms where virtuoso elements are primary. This was the time

in which he unlocked those secrets of the keyboard hitherto unexplored

by others, and in so doing, he filled his storehouse of pianistic

~

effects. Foremost from this period were the Etudes d'exécution

, ~ ,
transcendante, the Etudes d'execution transcendante diapres Paganini,
~

the Trois Etudes de concert, the Swiss and Italian books of the Années

de Pèlerinage, the Hungarian Rhapsodies, and an assortment of works on

national themes. An important part of his repertoire as virtuoso was a

vast assortment of transcriptions. Sorne are classed as paraphrases

where the original work is so completely transformed that often, apart

from a few easily identifiable themes, it served as the source of

inspiration for a freely-composed work. Liszt freely transcribed the

orchestral and/or operatic works of such composers as Bellini, Rossini,

Meyerbeer, Auber, Berlioz, Donizetti, Beethoven, Schubert and Weber. By

contrast, in the partitions for piano, Liszt faithfully transcribed a

work from one medium to another, sometimes not deviating from the original

by so much as a single note. Again the list is endless but features six

organ preludes and fugues by J. S. Bach, Beethoven symphonies, songs of

Beethoven, Chopin, Schubert, Schumann and orchestral works of Berlioz,

Rossini and Weber.

 37

In the 1850's he turned away from the f10urishes of his youth

and devoted himse1f to compositions where virtuosity was of 1esser

importance. It is not surprising, therefore, that this was also the

decade in which he began to compose for organ, writing his longest and

most unorthodox work for the instrument. In 1852-53, sorne five years

after the public recitaling had ended, Liszt wrote the Sonata in B minor

and this work marked the end of much of his extended writing for piano.

It is dedicated to Schumann in return for the latter's dedication of the

Fantaisie in C, Op. 17, to Liszt sorne fifteen years earlier. "But the

dedication caused some ernbarrassrnent to Robert and Clara, who, with

Brahms, represented the opposition to the Liszt school and felt a

growing antagonisrn toward Liszt hirnself as we11 as doubts regarding

• s1.ncer1.ty.
h 1.S • • ..26

Through the 1860's and 1870's his preoccupation with technical

disp1ay-virtuallydi-sappeared- to- the-exten-t· that-hi·s·-last works~like

Nuages gris, La lugubre gondola and Unstern are a radical departure from

his life10ng output, and comprise sorne of his most innovative experiments

in harmonic practice, forecasting the tonal liberation of the next

century •

Summary

Without question, Liszt stands as a powerful influence in the

development of piano style. He was an adventuresome individual who

introduced innovations which are in common practice today. For example,

he is be1ieved to be the first performer to give a complete program by

himself, thereby initiating the "recita1" performance. At the keyboard

26
Newman, Sonata, p. 365.
 38

he dazzled the public with such virtuosic feats of pianism that it

seemed the world would never again produce an equal. In spite of the

originality which dominated his spirit, many of the ideas which he

applied to piano composition were not totally new. His music is

characterized in part by techniques which were predated by other

composers. For instance, leaps over wide intervals were used by

c. M. von Weber, tremolos by Schubert and frequent cross-over of hands

by Domenico Scarlatti. The contribution which Liszt made to piano

style is not so much in the originality of the individual techniques but

in the breadth of their application. No composer before Liszt

concentrated a wealth of effects in such a short span of time.

Furthermore, both the music and life-style of Liszt inclined toward the

grandiose. He was no more destined to treat the piano in miniature than

Schumann was to write the "Symphony of a Thousand." Rostand writes

that "[Liszt] treated the piano in the manner of a great dramatist of

the keyboard. •
L 1szt , s p1ano
. .
1S th '
e p1ano 0 f d rama. ,,27 It is this

quality which distinguished Liszt's music from that of his contemporaries

and which will credit him with being the most influential force in the

development of piano style.

27Rostand, Liszt, p. 106.

 CHAPTER II

LISZT AS ORGAN COMPOSER

The search for a definition of nineteenth-century organ style is

continually diverted by correlative issues which, if not investigated,

would lessen the reliability of any subsequent conclusions. How simple

it would be to determine a keyboard style on the basis of a comparative

analysis of scores alone. The theories derived from such means may

prove a t fir"s t to be val id, in time would be exposed as the produc t of

a very naive mind. Therefore, before analysis of the music can even be

initiated, the researcher must come to grips with the external forces,

both contemporary and historical, which may have affected the creation

or appreciation of the composition. In the case of nineteenth-century

music, these forces may take the form of prejudices implanted by

twentieth-century writers which may impair the judgment of the analyst,

or they may be strictures which may have discouraged the composer from

creating a free, unrestrained style of organ music.

Whatever the case, it is impossible to delve into the problem of

organ style without facing the implications of its association with the

church. Unlike most other instruments, the organ was not permitted to

develop independently since tonal designs were dependent upon the

spatial dimensions appropriated to it. Also, because the organ has been

the most familiar spokesman of the liturgy, its literature has been

rarely free of religious colorings. As much as organists would seek to

39
 40

divorce the instrument from its usual surroundings, the style of organ

composition has been restricted at times by the values imposed by the

ecclesiastical hierarchy. Therefore, the discussion of Liszt and his

contribution to the development of organ style must be prefaced by an

account of the Cecilian movement in the nineteenth century and Liszt's

attitude toward church music.

Historicism of the nineteenth century

.Tendencies towardhistoricism was a shaping force in most

nineteenth-century art and the style of church music was strongly

affected by it. Early in the century research was directed toward

discovering the past; Giuseppe Baini's Palestrina appeared in 1828 and

Felix Mendelssohn conducted Bach's St. Matthew Passion in Berlin in

1829. Also at the same time essays on early Netherlandish music were

written by Raphael Georg Kiesewetter and Franrois-Joseph Fétis. This

preoccupation with the past was carried on with exceptional intensity

in the area of church music and writers like Johann Friedrich Reichardt,

J. A. P. Schulz, Johann Gottfried von Herder, E. T. A. Hoffman and

A. F. J. Thibaut embarked on a quest for "the true church music."

This was a non-denominational effort and the restorational tendencies

not only led to a revival of old music but inspired composers to use

these compositions as models for new ones. Composers like Kaspar Ett

and Johann Kaspar Aiblinger of the Catholic persuasion and Johann

Gottfried Schicht and Bernhard Klein of the Protestant aspired for a

pious expression. Somewhat later Felix Mendelss'ohn became an important

figure and wrote an impressive body of church music. This infatuation

with the past was carried still further on the Catholic side by Liszt,

Josef Rheinberger, Anton Bruckner and by the host of composers

 41

associated with the Cecilian movement, and on the Protestant side by

Heinrich von Herzogenberg, Arnold Mendelssohn, Albert Becker, and others.

Exponents of the Cecilian movement extolled the virtues of the Renaissance

and proclaimed the a cappella style of Palestrina to the works of

Pergolesi and Jonunelli as the most "devout."

Although the Cecilian movement was concentrated in Germany, the

historicistic attitudes spread to France as weIl. About the same time

in Paris, Louis Niedermeyer reorganized Choron's Institute for Church

,
Music as the Ecole-Niedermeyer which, with the aid of government subsidy,

eventually became a flourishing institution. Its primary objective was

to educate musicians to the long-neglected repertoire of the sixteenth,

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, especially the music of J. S. Bach.

While the ideals of Cecilianism were commendable, certain

incongruities appeared in·the breadth of their tolerance, the most

unexplainable being the inclusion of G. F. Handel and J. S. Bach.

Handel's oratorios found acceptance when sung at a very slow tempo and

as unemotionally as possible in order to give an "edifying" effect. But

the inclusion of the works of Bach is even stranger because -the

emotionality, the range of color, and the intense expression of pathos

were completely foreign to the aesthetics of the "true church music."

If the proponents of Nazarene Classicism were not to totally reject Bach

because his music ran diametrically counter to their views, then they

were obliged "to smooth him out, polish him, make him devout, Nazarenize

him."l Works that conformed to the precepts of "true church music" were

lFriedrich Blume, "Bach in the Romantic Era," transe by Piero

Weiss, Musical Quarterly, L (July, 1964), p. 296.
 42

pushed to the foreground or else the vocal works were substantially

retouched. The cantatas and Passions, those works with German texts,

were the least acceptable and often were published without the most

objectionable movements. The pathos of the recitatives and arias and

the color of the instrumental accompaniments could not be reconciled

with the classicistic ideal of beauty.

At the time when the controversyover the cantatas and Passions

began, a younger generation of men like Mendelssohn, Schumann,

Robert Franz, K. H. Bitter and Wilhelm Rust entered upon the scene with

a fresh, spontaneous enthusiasm for Bach's music. This enthusiasm had

very practical consequences. First, the flow of printed editions of

Bach's music was greatly increased up to the founding of the

Bach-Gesellschaft. And secondly, beginning with the efforts of

Mendelssohn, aIl tampering with the Bach editions carne to an end and

appreciation of the music was based on the score as written. "An

examination of the score from which Mendelssohn conducted in 1829 reveals

that aIl of his numerous markings were purely technical, bearing on the

performance, and that he took pains not to encroach on Bach's

texts • ...
As Mendelssohn was the pivotal figure in the Romantic appreciation

of Bach's vocal repertoire, so he was an active force in the revival of

the organ works as welle Largely due to his extensive travels as concert

organist during which he not only performed the masterworks of Bach but

devoted full recitals to the older master, the public was awakened to a

whole new repertoire. Their intoxication kindled in the contemporary

composers a desire to employ cantus firmus techniques in genres more

2Ibid ., p. 299.
 43

closely related to the past, like preludes, fugues, toccatas, chorale

preludes, trios, organ masses, etc.

Liszt's concept of church music

The turn to the past was so totally consuming that few, if any,

composers could withstand its effects. Least of aIl Liszt, who had a

sincere concern for the church and expressed his views long before his

formaI affiliation as Abb~. His writings on the church are without a

formaI system and a number of casual references can be found in his

letters and editorials. Mark Bangert summarizes the extant articles in

which Liszt addresses himself specifically to church music. 3 In six

essays collectively entitled ttZur Stellung der Künstler lt (1835) and

written for the Gazette musicale Liszt discusses the church's neglect of

its artistic treasures and bemoans the fact that Palestrina, Handel,

F. Haydn, Marcello and Mozart have not had sufficient hearing. He

maintains that "the church has set its sights on unconsecrated,

irreligious and thoughtless works of little value.,,4 He challenges the

common people of the church to reinstate the true art and in so doing

reveals his sympathy for the goals of the Cecilian movement.

Twenty-five years later Liszt outlined a plan for church music

reform in a letter to Princess Carolyn Sayn-Wittgenstein dated July 24,

1860 5 and in a subsequent letter to an unknown party dated May 20, 1865

%fark Bangert, "Franz Liszt's Essay on Church Music (1834) in

the Light of Felicitè Lammenais's Religious and Political Thought,"
Church Music, 73.2 (July, 1973), pp. 17-18.

4Ibid ., p. 17.

5La Mara, ed., Franz Liszts Briefe (Leipzig: Breitkopf und

Hartel, 1900), V, 33-36.
 44

he deve10ps his view of the function and place of re1igious

music. 6

The only essay which deals solely with the subject of church
..
music is really a fragment entitled ''Uber zukünftige Kirchenmusik" of

1834. 7 Here Liszt discusses church music in more comprehensive terms,

not just the music of the 1iturgy. He contrasts the past and present,

emphasizing that the needs of the people have changed. According to

Liszt, the liturgy of the past expressed and satisfied the common

feelings of the people, so church music could retreat into its own

sphere of mystery and find fulfillment in serving the splendor of the

Catholic liturgy. Nowadays when the pulpit and religious ceremonies are

objects of ridicule, art must forsake the inner temple, expand itself

and seek a stage for its magnificent manifestations in the world

outside.

How often--indeed, how much more than often--music

must acknowledge both people and God as its springs of
life. It needs to hasten from one to the other in order
to ennoble, comfort, and chasten mankind as weIl as to
bless and to praise God.
To reach this goal, it is indispensable that a NEW
MUSIC be invoked. This music, which for 1ack of another
designation we may christen "HUMANISTIC" [humani taire],
SHOULD BE SOLEMN, STRONG, AND EFFECTIVE: IT SHOULD UNITE
THE THEATER AND THE CHURCH IN COLOSSAL RELATIONSHIPS:
IT SHOULD BE BOTH DRAMATIC AND HOLY, SPLENDIDLY UNFOLDING
AND SIMPLE, CEREMONIOUS AND EARNEST, FIERY AND UNBRIDLED,
STORMY AND RESTFUL, CLEAR AND DEVOUT.8

Liszt conceives of music serving a religious function tota11y separated

from the structure of the church.

6
Eugen Segnitz, Franz Liszt's Kirchenmusik (Langensa1za:
Hermann Beyer, 1911), p. 3.

7Bangert, "Essay on Church Music," pp. 18-19 tranSe from Lina

Ramann, ed., Gesamme1te Schriften von Franz Li szt (Leipzig: Breitkopf &
Harte1, 1881), II, 55-57.
8 Ibid .
 45

The essay is not necessarily the philosophy of Liszt seasoned

by a lifet~e of experience. Rather it was designed for a specifie

situation in France during the post-revolutionary period of the l830's.

During the summer of 1834, Liszt visited Hughes Felicit~ Robert de

Lammenais, a controversial figure in the clergy who belligerently

campaigned throughout his life for a regeneration of society through

religion. His beliefs in ultramontanism were in conflict with the

royalist leanings of the church and their alignment with Charles X in

the July Revolution of 1830. In his newspaper L'Avenir, Lammenais

took such a strong stand on the separation of church and state that

many bishops feared that they would be removed from the public payroll.

Even though the Pope forbade the continuation of the paper in 1832,

Lammenais published a book in March, 1834 entitled Paroles d'un Croyant

wherein he condemned aIl contemporary oppressors, including those of the

church. On June 24, 1834, just prior to the arrivaI of Liszt, this book

was also banned by the ecclesiastical hierarchy and Lammenais was

unofficially excommunicated from the church.

The concerns which Liszt set forth in his essay "On the Future

of Church Music" are colored by the beliefs that Larrunenais upheld

throughout his life supporting the notion that the fragment may have

been written during or immediately following the summer visite Bangert

presents a convincing argument on the close resemblance of Liszt's

ideas in the essay of 1834 and the philosophy of Lammenais as expressed

in his Paroles d'un Croyant. 9 First, both documents contain a prophetic

quality which was intended to offer encouragement for the future.

Secondly, both manifest a Utopian or eschatological attitude. Thirdly,

9Ibid ., pp. 23-25.

 46

both look to an extra-ecclesiastical basis for reform. Liszt argues

that the liturgy which used to be the home for church music can no

longer support church music in its most comprehensive meaning, and that

the future of its existence is to be found in the paired wellsprings of

people and God. Next, both Lammenais and Liszt shared the opinion that

reforms would have to originate outside the church and would be the

responsibility of the people.

The premise of his essay is that "God remains forever,

and the people are rising up." Art, according to him,
must seek its stage outside the sanctuary, which is to
say that organized religion can no longer support the
vital future music of God's people. Inspiration for the
new music will come from God and people, its paradigmatic
forerunners are the popular freedom songs (the songs of
the people), and, because it is the honest lively
expression of the people, this new music will be supported
by the state. Throughout his presentation it is important
to notice the unity created by the marriage of church music
and a political program: the new music develops from a
specifie solution to the social difficulties of the time. IO

Lammenais never retreated from his strong advocacy of the papacy

and was aware that, although his cause was temporarily daunted, time

would bring a new leader to Rome who would be more sympa the tic ta his

entreaties. Meanwhile, he adopted a somewhat liberal view of the

relationship of church and state stating that "the church is where the

people are and that is where the state will be too fi

Liszt

translates this philosophy to church music, writing that "the new music

will be the people's music, employing styles characteristically

popular--suchas the style of the theater--so one should expect material

support to come from the same source."ll

IOIbid., p. 24.

IIIbid.
 47

Finally, both men understood the benefits that could be derived

from free association and from a free exchange of ideas. Liszt was aware

that the creativity of church musicians had deteriorated under the

excessive restrictions imposed by the church. But he felt that the

church musician could become more productive if the sources of inspiration

would be expanded to include the experiences of humanity outside the

church.

For the twentieth century Liszt's most important legacy

in the essay may be two assumptions which undergird the
entire work. The first is his conviction that worthwhile
church music must be vitally engaged with the issues of
the day and in that way help to serve the gamut of human
needs. The second is that the church music function should
be expedited with tools that are truly contemporary, that
have proven themselves effective popular media, and that
can sustain a lively somet~~s polarized partnership
between music and theology. .

Liszt's composition for organ

Liszt' s attitudes toward church music were shaped ..mainly by two

streams of thought. On the one hand, he espoused the reforms of the

Cecilian movement and pursued the search for "the true church music";

and on the other hand~ he sought to expand the resources and make church

music, a music of the people. Assuming that organ music is rarely

independent from the composeras philosophy of church music, we may

expect that Liszt's organ music reflected his feelings about religious

music in general. Liszt's organ style does indeed pose a paradox for

his output constitutes two compositional approaches which are

diametrically opposed to one another. On the one end, there is the

sophisticated, complex style of the Ad nos, "Weinen, Klagen" Variations

12 Ibid ., p. 25.
 48

and the Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H, and on the other end, the naive,

meditative musings of the Missapro organo and numerous other short

subjects. Bince the most spectacular piece was written first and most

of the other less ~posing ones came later, the trend toward

simplification is harmonious to Liszt's evolution of style apparent in

other mediums. However, this theory is weakened in the organ works

because there is no evidence to justify that Liszt's composition for

organ underwent a graduaI change of technique. The pieces are either

very difficult or very simple, but there is an absolute void of pieces

in-between. Perhaps it is possible that the justification of such a

radical shift rests not with musical reasons but with pragmatic ones.

Since we have little proof to document'Liszt's abilities at the organ,

the supposition that the difficult works were written for professional

organists and the simple ones for Liszt's own reflection is equally

defensible. 13

Accounts of Liszt's performing at the organ are nearly

non-existent and those which have been recorded are hardly illuminating.

One of the rare descriptions iS.found in Lina Ramann's book

Franz Liszt: Artist and Man where she recalls Liszt
examining the new instrument at the Cathedral of Fribourg
in the presence of Mons. Adolphe Pictet, George Sand, and
the Countess d'Agoult:
"Liszt sat before the organ; near him stood Mooser (the
organ builder) to work the stops. His fingers began to
intone Mozart's 'Dies Irae' with modulations that died like
shadows in the deep. Suddenly the tones of the organ
sounded fortissimo and the harmonies rolled like an
unchained deluge through the precincts of the sacred
edifice." • • •
Mons. ~ictet describes the event much more fully:
"An Adagio began of a gloomy, severe character.
Undecided, sombre modulations followed, interlaced with a

13Bakken, "Liszt and the Organ," p. 29.

 49

series of dissonances and winding like mist with mist. From

time to time more decided forms arose, as if seeking embodiment
and light. Now they vanished again, amidst other fleeting
figures, which only appeared to flit away instantaneously. If
one had sought to render the effect of this music into
painting, only a mighty soul could have done it, which, full
of restlessness and excitement, full of~doubt and passion,
struggles in vain to find the decisive word of destiny, or
else the lofty representation of chaos, when ancient nature
begat formless creations, with infinite force, in the realm
of the eternal night.
'~en the suspense had reached its highest point, the
introduction ended, and a serious, decided thema, like a
maxim of class wisdom, began; executed slowly by the deep
majestic roll of the organ, then from the higher voices, in
regular cadence, passing into the fugue style of Meister
Sebastian Bach. To this earnest, solemn thema was added, as
a contrast, a second, quick, and brilliant, that, while the
first resembled rather a monotonous greatness, seemed fitted
for every change and transformation. Whilst the execution of
the first was strictly submitted to the laws of harmony, the
other moved freely in the most unexpected combinations and
astonishing effects.
"And now began a peculiar contest between the two. Boldly
the lighter thema seized his earnest antagonist, and displayed
aIl the elfish tricks of art, playfully dancing around him to
allure him from his regular course into the abysses of dissonance.
In the most brilliant tones of the organ, it launched forth
grac~fully into a thousand tormenting caprices, until it flamed
full of passion and fire, into tones of mockery and scorn. At
last, summoning aIl their powers the two themas inter-twine;
complaining, cries of pain, strange sounds arose from the
struggle; it was as though Laocoon, pressed in the serpent's
folds, were seeking powerfully, but in vain, to tear himself
from the torturing thrall. But ,the end of the contest was .
quite different. The first thema asserted its supremacy and
drove the other back into the keynote. The disturbed harmony
returned, and, with indescribable art, the two were united into
one thema, to an expression of perfect grandeur and splendour,
sentiment and passion, power and grace. And this new thema,
unfolded with aIl the verve of genius, and represented by aIl
the resources of the magnificent instrument, a lofty hymn,
closed the artist's improvisation."14

Another record of Liszt's organ playing was written by Baroness

Meyendorff in 1867:

(As he was playing the Requiem at the organ) He has found

supreme and complete expression in the music of the Church

14 Ibid ., p. 27.
 50

where he will never be surpassed, where he exhausts--without

ever exhausting himself--all the riches of form and
metaphysics. He gives himself entirely in his works, as
in his p1aying. 15

Whatever attracted Liszt to the organ is inconc1usive in the

primary sources, but there is evidence to support the notion that Liszt

aspired to be a good composer for the instrument and had the opportunity

to fami1iarize himse1f with a 1ess conventiona1 style of organ

1iterature. Since his first organ composition was not written unti1

1851, a large corpus of music had a1ready been marketed by his

contemporaries and, a1though there is no evidence to document it, Liszt

may have studied the Mendelssohn Preludes and Fugues, Op. 37 which

appeared in 1837, the Mendelssohn Sonatas of 1845 as we11 as the

Schumann Studies, Op. 56, Sketches, Op. 58 and Fugues on B-A-C-H,

Op. 60, a11 of 1845. For certain Liszt app1ied himse1f to the study of

organ music through the works of J. S. Bach and between 1842 and 1850

he comp1eted the piano transcriptions of six preludes and fugues for

organ, severa1 of which date from Bach's Leipzig periode

Since we know 1itt1e of Liszt's capabi1ities at the organ and

can on1y specu1ate as to the 1iterature he knew, the prob1em of

reconci1ing the two streams of compositiona1 style as the product of

the same man still e1udes an indisputab1e solution. Howard Bakken, in

addressing himse1f to Liszt's relation to the organ, conc1udes that

the very nature of his organ works seems to indicate that

the organ was quite foreign to him. Every account of his
organ performances, which were never public in the sense
that his pianoforte performances were, speaks on1y of his
improvisation or his p1aying of the sma11 pieces, which
cou1d be rendered adequate1y by any modest1y proficient
keyboard performer. The peda1 parts in the sma11er works,

15 Ibid •
 51

for example, when present at aIl, are almost exclusively

doublings of the lowest voice in the manuals.
The three large works and possibly the Evocation
appear to have been written for the organ by a pianist
who intended their performance to be by other players.
There are no accounts of Liszt's own performance of
them: in fact, his own scarce references to thgm
always speak of other performers playing them. l

However justifiable this contention may be, Bakken stops short

of the real issue. What were Liszt's attitudes toward the organ, and

what motivated him to write in two such unrelated styles? First, and

most important, Liszt regarded the organ primarily as a musical instrument,

not solely a servant of the liturgy. In an idealistic way, he envisioned

a literature which would serve two masters: one which would satisfy the

needs of the service and at the same time not sacrifice the artistic

integrity of the instrument. Evidently Liszt felt no compulsion to

enlarge the repertoire of service music for less-than-professional

talents. When he was not writing pieces for more introspective purposes,

he permitted his imagination to soar, creating a style which unleashed,

to an unprecedented degree, the color and technical potential of the

instrument. Under Liszt's pen, the organ as weIl as the piano became

the instrument of drama. But Liszt was also a product of his times and

could not escape the inhibiting dogmas of the clergy.17

l6 Ibid ., p. 29.
l7 In a letter to Camille Saint-Saëns dated August 4, 1869
(Franz Liszt, Letters, Vol. II, ed. by LaMara, transe by Constance Bache
New York: Haskell House Publishers Ltd., 1968 , pp. 186-87), Liszt
suggests that at times the composer must suppress the truly inspired
expressions for those more appropriate to worship. Discussing the Kyrie
of Saint-Saëns Mass, he challenges its excessive length and questions
whether the composer may have lost sight of the celebrant "who is
obliged to stand motionless at the altar • • • • Will not the composer
be reproached with having given way to his genius rather than to the
requirements of the worship?
"In order to obvia te these unpleasant conjunctures it would be
necessary for you to resign yourself to an enormous sacrifice as an
 52

It 1s conceivable that the more restrained expressions for

organ were born from the Cecilianistic pursuit of the "true church

music" and these pieces constituted the instrumental counterpart to the

a cappella style of Palestrina. The dichotomy in Liszt's organ style is

harmonious with his more liberal philosophy of church music. According

to his essay, religious art could afford to be more inclusive, striving

to accept a wide range of artistic expressions rather than reject the

less conventional ones. Therefore, on Liszt's terms, the "Romantic"

drama of Ad nos and the "Classic.istic" meditations of the Mass are both

suitable expression of church music and, however idealistically, should

pose no need for reconciliation.

The issue of this paper is not only to discuss the rationale for

the existence of the two extremes, but to prove that each, in their own

way, constitutes' a style which is idiomatic to the organ. There seems

little question that the improvisational treatment which dwelled on

long-sustained sonorities painted with a variety of tone colors is the

province of the" organ, a stereotyped image to be sure. But the

virtuosic demands of the other compositions provides more controversial

fare. Are these compositions the product of a pianist who had litt le

understànding of what constitutes an organ style, or are they "new"

music for the instrument, responsible for broadening the definition of

organ style? Therefore, the substance of this paper deals with the

artist, namely, to eut out 18 pages! (for church performance only, for
these 18 pages should be preserved in the edition to your greater honour
as a musician, and it would suffice to indicate the 'eut' ad libitum; as
l have done in several places in the score of the Gran Mass) • • • •
"From the musical point of view exclusively, l should blush to make
such a proposition; but it is necessary to keep peace, especially in the
Church, where one must learn to subordinate one's self in mind and deed.
Art, there, should be only a correlative matter, and should tend to the
most perfect concomitance possible with the rite."
 53

three largest organ works, Ad nos, "Weinen, Klagen" Variations and the

Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H, and two of their transcriptions, to

analyze the keyboard styles and prove their individuality as piano and

organ compositions.

The organs Liszt knew

The organ music of Liszt is practically devoid of performance

directions on tempo, articulation and registration. Decisions on tone

coloring are among the most crucial to organ music and, without even

the most general direction, the organist must resort to a study of the

instruments of the age and those known by the composer.

Towards the middle of the eighteenth century there was a graduaI

shift in the tonal expectations of an organ. The "classical" instrument

of the Baroque, characterized by encased pipework, and independent tonal

registers patterned along the overtone series, was set aside for an

instrument of more homogeneous colors. As the use of orchestras in the

church became more common, the organ was obliged to fill in the harmonie

background rather than be featured in a solo capacity. The emphasis

then was on eight-foot registers, a 'kind of horizontal aggregation of

tones, and the mutations and mixtures tuned to the upper partials were

reserved for only the tutti effects. The pedalboards of the instruments

known to Liszt varied in range or, in sorne cases, were entirely absent.

For this reason, in the organ pieces, the problem of what is played by

the pedals is left unresolved. At times the pedal simply doubled the

left hand and, at other times, an independent pedal part is lacking

altogether. This does not negate our responsibility to examine the full

potential of the pedal, although it did not consistently fulfill its role.
 54

Although the corroboration of the tonal ideal which Liszt

envisioned in his organ composition is impossible, we can at least

document the instruments with which he was familiar. In Germany, the

music of Liszt is most closely associated with the organ at the Cathedral

in Merseburg where the organist, Alexander Winterberger, attained a

widespread reputation as one of the foremost interpreters of Liszt's

work. Liszt himself was present at several performances of Winterberger

at Merseburg. In 1853-55 the North German builder, Friedrich Ladegast,

was given the assignment to rebuild the Thayssner organ at Merseburg

and the specifications are as follows: 18

Hauptwerk: Rückpositiv: Oberwerk:

a/ Prinzipal 8' Prinzipal 8'

Prinzipal 16' Bordun 16' Quintaton 16'
Prinzipal 8' Flauto traverso 8' Rohrflote 8'
Oktave 4' Gamba 8' Viola di Gamba 8'
Spitzflote 4' Quintaton 8' Flauto amabile 8 r
Gedackt 4' Prinzipal 4' Gedackt 8'
Quinte 2 2/3' Gedackt 4' Oktave 4'
Oktave 2' Oktave 2' Gemshorn 4'
Doublette 4'--2' Mixtur 4fach Rohrflote 4'
Mixtur 4fach Kornett 2--5fach Quinte 2 2/3'
Scharff 4fach Oboe 8 r Waldflote 2'
Kornett 3--5fach Terz 1 3/5'
Trompete 8' Sifflote l'
Mixtur 4fach
b/ Schalmey 8'
Bordun 32' Stahlspiel 8'
Bordun 16'
Hoh1flote 8'
Gemshorn 8'
Gamba 8'
Doppelflote 8'
Quinte 5 1/3'
Fagott 16'

18Marg1ttay,
· 0 rgan Wor k s, p. v.
 55

Echowerk: Pedal

Geigenprinzipa1 8' al
Lieb1ich Gedackt 16' Prinzipa1 16'
F1auto dolce 8' Sa1icet 16'
Sa1iziona1 8' Subbass 16'
Unda maris 8' Oktave 8'
Lieb1ich Gedackt 8' Bassf10te 8'
Oktave 4' Oktave 4'
Zartf10te 4' Du1cian 16'
Sa1iziona1 4'
Nasard 2 2/3' bl
Oktave 2' Vio10nce110 8'
Cymbe1 3fach Flote 4'
Progressio harmonica 2--4fach Grossnasard 10 2/3'
Ao1ine 16' Terz 6 2/5'
Rohrquinte 5 1/3'
Kornett 4fach
Mixtur 4fach
Trompete 8'
K1arine 4'
cl
Untersatz 32'
Violon 16'
Posaune 32'
Posaune 16'

The Merseburg instrument, responsib1e for the popu1arization of Liszt's

organ music, assumes even greater significance in the history of organ

design. Remembering that Ladegast was befriended by Cavaillé-Coll

before undertaking his assignment in Merseburg, Peter Schwarz, in his

discussion of the Liszt organ works, states that the organ schoo1s of

south Germany and Alsace find, via the "French Schoo1" of

Cavaillé-Coll, a synthesis in the organ designs of Ladegast. 19 Schwarz

further observes that a1though the overtone structures are confined,

they are not influenced by the overt antagonism toward overtones of the

nineteenth century. It is an organ in the tradition of Si1bermann

observing the stipulation

that each register is to add something new in co10r and

volume, so that "through the adding of the register a

19
Schwarz, Studien zur Orge1musik, p. 42.
 56

crescendo would have to be heard." This votum must shatter

the prejudice that dynamic differentiation would be
unfavorable to the transparency of a polyphonic texture.
The volume of tone implies also the mixing of register­
colors: Bach's polyphony--which was played on the Saxon
Silbermann organs--could therefore also be performed
through dynamic differentiation and mixing of register
colors.
The construction of the Merseburg-Ladegast organ is
of particular significance in the organ history of the
nineteenth century since it made possible the performance
of organ music of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries
on one and the same instrument. As it would be a problematic
one-sidedness to describe the musical reality of Bach's
music as purely linear--without making complementary
reference to the tonal components caused by thorough-bass
harmony, it would be similarly one-sided to label the
Liszt style as pure "homophony" without noticing the
inherent expressive polyphony.20

The instrument should not be cast aside as a so-called "compromise"

organ, but can be indicative of Liszt's concept of organ style in its

most liberal forme (That his music is revolutionary can be true only

in the sense that he did not abandon the traditional, but chose to

juxtapose the most adventuresome technique with the more conventional

20 Ibid ., p. 44: "dass jedes Register etwas Neues in Farbe und

Fülle des Tones erbringen solI, so dass 'durch das Zuziehen der
Register ein Crescendo zu horen sein müsse.' (27. Ernst Flade,
Gottfried Si lbermann , Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des deutschen ~rgel­
und Klavier-baus ~ Zeitalter Bachs [Leipzig, 1953J, s. 194.) Dieses
Votum muss das Vorurteil erschüttern, das die dynamische Differenzierung
der Transparenz des polyphonen Satzes abtraglich sei. Die Fülle eines
Tones impliziert auch Register-farbenmischung: so ware Bachsche
Polyphonie--diese wurde auf den sachsischen Silbermann-Orgeln
gespielt--auch durch dynamische Differenzierung und Registerfarben­
Mischung darstellbar.
Der Bau der Merseburger Ladegast-Orgel ist für die Orgelgeschichte
des 19. Jahrhunderts von entscheidender Bedeutung, da sie die Darstellung
von Orgelmusik des 18. und 19. Jahrhunderts auf ein und demselben
Instrument ermoglichte. So wie es eine problematische Einseitigkeit
ware, die musikalische Realitat Bachscher Musik aIs blosse Linearitat
ohne entsprechende, durch die Generalbassharmonik bedingte
Klangkomponente zu beschreiben, so einseitig pauschal ware es, die
Lisz tsche Schreibweise aIs bloss J<homophon t ohne inunanent-expressive
Polyphonie abzutun."
 57

one. Thus, as the Ladegast organ is a synthesis ofdifferent styles,

so Liszt's compositional style is an amalgamation of many influences.

To this time we are plagued by the myth that virtuosity is not

dependent on a particular instrument. How can the disciples of this

fantasy disregard the fact that the construction of the Ladegast

organs in Merseburg gave an important impetus to the independence of

virtuosity of organ music? The virtuosity that Liszt aroused was just

the result of his reform in the entire realm of virtuosity which

b;ought musical depth to the brilliant piano playing of his day.

Translated to the organ, virtuosity adopted a different language,

restricting itself to the technical confines of the instrument.

Virtuosity in Liszt's sense isin no way a superficial,

public-pleasing exposition of technical proficiency,
but an act of creative transmission of abstract ideas
in concrete form through the use of tone. 21

If tone (that is, timbre) is the seed of a musical idea which matures

into elaborate structures, then an understanding of the Merseburg

organ is Inseparable from the incipient virtuosic trends of the

literature written for it.

Besides the larger instrument in Merseburg, Liszt was familiar

with two organs still extant in Nagycenk, Hungary. "As a guest of

Count Szechenyi's family, Liszt played several tûnes on these instruments

and they probably exerted a decisive influence upon the elaboration of

his organ compositions."22

2l___"d
Ib 1_., p. 45 : uV·1 rtuos1tat
" . " "1m L'1sztSCh en S·1 nne 1st
. k e i neswegs
eine oberflachliche, publikumsge(âllige Exposition technischer
Fertigkeit, sondern ein Akt schopferischer Transmission abstrakter Ideen
in die Konkretisierung durch den Klang."

2~argittay, Organ Works, p. v.-vi.

 58

The organ at the cemetery chape1 (Mauso1eum) at Nagycenk,

constructed in 1819 by Fü10p Konig (1781-1853), a master
organ-bui1der who 1ived at Sopron. One manua1, no peda1s.

Specification:

Bourdon 8' Dolce 4'

Principal 4' Octav 2'
Fuvola 4' Spitzflote 2'

The organ at the parish church of Nagycenk. Built by

Peter Titz (Wien). Two manuals, pedals, 19 stops, tracker
action. Originally the organ of the Viennese opera house
it was moved from there to Nagycenk in 1860.

Specification:

First manual: Second manual:

Bourdon 16' Dop1flote 8'
Gedackt 8' Floete 8'
Principal 8' Salicional 8'
Octav 4' Hohlfloete 4'
Spitzfloete 4' Gemshorn 4'
Quint 3' Gedackt 4'
Superoctav 2' Harmonica 8'
Mixtur 3fach, 2 2/3'

Pedal:
Posaune 16'
Principalbass 16'
Subbass 16'
Violon 8'

Thus, ,the organs which Liszt knew, the two at Nagycenk and the

large instrument at Merseburg, were 'aIl representative of the Romantic

concept of organ sonority. That is, nineteenth-century builders,

influenced by the rise of the orchestra, were intent upon imitating the

rich assortment of orchestral instruments both soloistically and in

ensemble. The ultimate objective of organ builders, then, was to design

the timbres so that they were not only tona1ly independent of each other,

but were capable of blending homogeneously into a number of different

combinations. In spite of the wide divergence in size, the three

organs cited in this paper emphasized a variety of colors most1y of

eight- and four-foot registers. Mutations and mixtures, included in two

 59

of the specifications, were not used to crown the ensembles, as in the

Baroque, but to add fullness to the tutti sections. Greatest

disparity among the instruments appeared in the pedale The Mausoleum

organ had no pedals, the pedalboard of the parish church was very

limited, usable mostly for supporting bass parts, and the pedal

division of the Merseburg instrument was fully developed with reed

chorus, mixtures and mutations. Since Liszt was acquainted with extremes

of organ design, he conceived his literature so that it was adaptable to

both the small and large organ. Even his most virtuosic creations can

be performed on smaller instruments,- although the effect of the piece

suffers from such concessions.

Finally, mention should be made of the piano-harmonium, an

instrument which was designed by and built for Liszt himself by

Alexander and Son, a piano manufacturer in Paris and a leading harmonium

builder as weIl. The instrument, now on permanent exhibit in the Museum

of Art History in Vienna, resembled a concert grand piano. It contained

three keyboards: a seven-octave piano keyboard and two shorter harmonium

keyboards with a five-octave compassstacked in terrace fashion below.

On the floor rested---a--straight pedalboard-with-only---twentypedals, the

Iowest C being two octaves below middle C. Two piano pedais were in

their usual position, flanked on either side by large pedals to operate

the bellows. Four other levers, used for sustaining notes on the top

and bot tom keyboards were placed so that the performer could operate

them with his knees.

The arrangement of the sixteen stops was somewhat confusing

since the three sets of stops were placed in two groups, one for each
 60

harmonium manuai with the piano stops interspersed between the

others. 23 The stops foilowed the practice of oider (mostly Italian )

Piano: top manual

Forte de la vibration Piano

Communication du Piano
Piano, Prolongement lointain
Vox Humana 8'

Harmonium: middle manual

Effet de Basson Hautbois 8'

Musette et Clarinette Basse 16'
Basson Hautbois 8'
Percussion Flute 8'
Bourdon Clarinette 16'

Harmonium: bottom manual

Expression a la Main Gauche

Expression aux Pieds
Forte Prolongement a'
Cor Anglais Prolongement a'
Hautbois a'
Forte du Hautbois a'
Violoncello a'

pipe organs as weIl as other harmoniums by dividing the manual into

upper and lower divisions for more variety in tone colors.

Aside from the fascination of an unorthodox combination of piano

and organ, the instrument provided a wealth of novel effects. Suspended

from the lowest keyboard were two levers to be operated by the knees

which, when pressed together, sustained the sound even after the fingers

released the keys. Moreover, each lever controlled only one-half of the

keyboard, so that it was possible to sustain a pedal point in the lower

half, while the upper half functioned as an unsustained organ manual.

The piano keyboard was similarly expanded to include four reed

stops. When the performer drew the knob "Pi~no Prolongement lointain"

23wayne T. Moore, "Liszt's Monster Instrument: The Piano­

Harmonium," Diapason, LXI (August, 1970), p. 14.
 61

and when the be110ws were activated, a soft reed sound was added to the

regu1ar piano sound. Touch a1so a1tered the sound. That is, when a note

was p1ayed heavi1y, the reed tone was inaudible and on1y the piano was

heard. If an extreme1y 1ight touch was used, on1y the reed tone was

heard. Separate levers for high and 10w register contro11ed the

sustaining mechanisms so that both the piano and reed tone cou1d be

pro10nged unti1 the levers were disengaged.

In spite of the uniqueness of the instrument, the disadvantages

far outweighed the advantages. It was extreme1y awkward to play,

requiring two people ta work a11 the levers, Dnffiense1y heavy to

transport, and much too expensive to put into production.

Fol10wing the building of the instrument, Liszt wrote many works

for the piano, and for organ or harmonium, but so far as is known, not

a single work for the piano-harmonium. 24 However, re1evance of the

harmonium-type construction is evidenced repeated1y in the scores.

As Margittay notes:

The influence of these old instruments on Liszt's composing

techniques accounts for the frequent1y extreme dynamic
requirements (to be accomp1ished.without changes in
registration) and~a1so for the_ special~_accentuation_ signs
(Percussion!) which not infrequent1y occur in Liszt's
organ compositions and cannot be rea1ized on modern
ins truments •
It fo110ws from the foregoing that in Liszt's organ
works the most wide-ranging use of coloration is permitted.
The infrequent directions for register- and manual-èhanges
found in the first printed editions and manuscripts are always
references to the potentia1 of local instruments, as for
instance to the mixture-effects on the organ at the Cathedral

24 Ibid ., p. 15.
 62

at Merseburg or at Riga, or to the expressiveness of the

harmonium crescendo pedals. (In ~5veral cases these were
not even Liszt's own directions.)

Summary

Liszt's association with the organ was one of extremes,

exemplified in his concept of church music, his acquaintance with

various organs, and his style of composition. Although he

capitulated to the tenets of the Cecilian movement, he also embraced

a more liberal philosophy of church music, asserting that the

people's most honest expressions of faith would be served best by a

mixture of theater and church styles, a humanitaire music. The

organs which he knew were either the small-scale instruments at

Nagycenk or the large, Romantic installations at Merseburg or Riga.

Likewise, his compositional output for organ assumed two different

characters: the uncomplicated, slow-moving meditations composed as

original works or as transcriptions of his own music or that of other

composers, and the virtuosic display style of pieces originally

written or transcribed from his own works. Immediately the

reconciliation of each stream appears pointless and we can see that a

pattern has developed in Liszt's relationship with organ art. Liszt

is at once introspective and grandiose. The Cecilianistic outpourings

for organ, available in the enlarged edition of Margittay, were

compatible with the modest instruments of Nagycenk, and the theatrical

2~argittay, Organ Works, p. vii. The organ in the Cathedral

of Riga in Latvia was built in 1883 by E. F. Walcker. It is a large
124 stop instrument designed in the romantic tradition of Cavaille-Coll.
In Weimar Liszt wrote Der Choral "Nun danket alle Gott," für Orgel
gesetzt. Chor und Begleitung der Trompeten, Posaunen und Pauken
ad libitum for the consecration of the new instrument.
 63

styles of the technically demanding literature were conceived for the

more imposing instrument at Merseburg. Liszt saw the organ in two

extremely different poses and wrote his music accordingly. Since his

rather limited reputation as organ composer was based principally on

three pieces, thanks to the selected publications of Straube, Dupré

~

and Pecsi, the remaining chapters of this paper will focus on each

piece individually in order to identify the techniques which Liszt

brought to the organ and the manner in which he revolutionized organ

style in the nineteenth century.

 CHAPTER III

FANTASIE UND FUGE UBER DEN CHORAL

"AD NOS, AD SALUTAREM UNDAM"

Any survey which traces the history of keyboard literature

cannot afford to underestilnate the value of the Fantasy and Fugue on

"Ad nos" in the music for the organ. It stands as one of the most

radical departures from the prevailing style of organ composition and,

therefore, it was most instrumental in removing some shackles of

oppression imposed by the provincial dogmas of the Cecilians. The

objective of this study is to discover the precedents for such an

unusual work, to determine the innovations which Liszt brought to

organ style in terms of form, manual and pedal technique, and tone

color, and to relate the work to future compositions, both of Liszt and

other composers.

Liszt did not turn to composition for the organ until he was

nearly forty years of age. Although he had revealed an astonishing

command of the organ fifteen years earlier when he played for Adolphe

Pictet, Madame d'Agoult and George Sand (see Chapter II), his reputation

was based on his improvising talents rather than on the performance of

the literature. The Fantasie und Fuge über den Choral "Ad nos, ad

salutarem undam," hereafter referred to as Ad nos, is the earliest

extant work for organ by Liszt and 1s at present one of the best known in

64
 65

spite of its 1ength and difficu1ty. It was written in 1850, pub1ished

by Breitkopf & Hartel in 1852, and was first perfoDmed in 1855 by

Alexander Winterberger at the Cathedral of Merseburg.

Since organ music is highly susceptible to the attitudes which

shape the music of the church, it is conceivable that Ad nos cou Id

reflect, at least in part, Liszt's undÛDming concern for the church.

The essay fragment, "On the Future of Church Music,!' appeared much

earlier in 1834, proposing that the societal wounds incurred by the July

Revolution could be treated by a church music of the people. Such a

religious music, ennobled by the magnanimity'of its cause, could only

fulfill its mission if the techniques it employed would be popular to

the masses. Thus, in Lisz.t' s words, the new music would be a marriage

of two styles--the Church and the Theater--and would speak to the

feelings and needs of the people.

The views of the essay, although the expression of a young man,

were not to be lightly disregarded in his later years. The very

existence of Ad nos attests to Liszt's reaffirmation of this philosophy

for in his first organ work the composer turns to the opera tic theatre

for inspiration.

Giacomo Meyerbeer, a German by birth, had established himself

in the theatres of Paris as a composer of French opera. Co 1laborating

with the librettist Eugène Scribe, he began work on L'Africaine in 1838,

a project which was to engage his efforts sporadically for the remainder

of his life. The public had been intoxicated by an earlier production

of Les Huguenots and impatiently anticipated the comp1etion of a new

work. In 1843 Scribe showed him the libretto for Le Prophète which so

excited Meyerbeer's imagination that he set L'Africaine aside, and

 66

started to work on it at once, finishing it within a year. The opera

was produced in Paris on April 16, 1849, thirteen years having elapsed

since the production of its predecessor, Les Huguenots. Le Prophète was

not received with the same exuberance, for the public found the subject

of the opera far too grave for their tastes. Nevertheless, Liszt,

evidently impressed by the merits of the work, set about arranging

portions of it for concert performance. In 1849-50 he transcribed three

Illustrations du Prophète for piano:

Prière, hymne triomphale, marche du sacre

Les Patineurs, scherzo
Choeur pastoral, appel aux armes.

Ad nos for organ, whose principal theme is derived from Le Prophète,

was published as the fourth of the series. It is dedicated to Meyerbeer.

In a letter to Liszt dated February 8, 1852, Meyerbeer conveys his

appreciation of the pianist's efforts:

Dear and illustrious colleague,

Monsieur Schlesinger has spoken to me about a letter you
wrote him in which you say that you have composed a large
piano composition on the Anabaptists' hymn from "Le Proph~teft,
and that you intend to dedicate this work to me when it is
published, but first you wish to write to me directly.
l shall not wait for the arrivaI of that letter to tell
you how happy l am that one of my songs impresses you as
worthy to be used as a motif for one of your piano
compositions, destined to be heard throughout Europe and
intoxicate those who have the good fortune to hear them
played by your wonderful, poetic fingers. However, l feel
even more honoured at the mark of sympathy you offer me in
dedicating your work to me, for if it is an honour to see
my name linked with yours, it is even more agreeable to me
that you make it known in this manner that we are friends. l

Liszt bases Ad nos on a single quotation from Le Prophète, the

chorale from the first act where the three Anabaptists entreat the

IDavid Wilde, "Transcriptions for Piano," Franz Liszt: The Man

and His Music, Alan Walker, ed. (London: Barrie and Jenkins, 1970),
p. 169.
 67

people to enter the healing waters to be baptized anew. The melody,

only two phrases in length, is by Meyerbeer himself and is not a

pre-existent tune as believed for sorne tirne.

Ex. 111-1. Chorale Theme from Le Prophète

~
J 1r ~ r r r 1 r rif J 1r r r.~
Act +
r\~ • ad. Sel, - 1....... (1- "5 ~ ""'" d 4,WI.

~ ft'ij f r f r1
,.. ~ ... ~ .Je.-
fl f-r Cr]
n~ - -ht.
1
'W\.~ -
~i f "' r
1
Se. _ r;
H

The theme occupies a prorninent position in the first act

recurring five times in rondo fashion. One other abbreviated statement,

consisting of the first phrase only, appears in the finale of the second

act. The beauty of the chorale lies in its simplicity, a quality which

may have been responsible for attracting Liszt to the material in the

first place. Whenever the chant is sung by the Anabaptists, it stands

strongly unadorned preserving the original melody, rhythm and Latin

text. 2 For the first three times the orchestra accompanies the soloists

in unison, but in the fourth statement, the dramatic tension is

heightened by the addition of a pedal point to each phrase, a G in the

first and a Bb in the second. Here also the people joïn in with a text

in the vernacular and the theme is cut off before the final six notes.

2According to a letter to Breitkopf & Hartel dated December l,

1851 (Liszt, Letters, l, 126), Liszt had only a piano reduction of the
opera for study purposes. Since the chorale tune is simply orchestrated,
the limited reference should not have affected Liszt's appreciation of
the melody in contexte
 68

A fifth statement, now in D minor, draws the first act to a quiet

close. It is accompanied by the respective pedal points and again its

ending is slightly modified.

In spite of the unpretentiousness of the chant-like theme, Liszt

transforms it substantially to suit his own needs. When the theme is

used in the slow section, he discontinues the iambic rhythm and

reshapes the phrase structure by inserting a fermata over the eighth

note producing three units instead of two. To reinforce the tonality

of the melody, that note is also raised one-half step from a sub-tonic

to a leading tone.

Ex. 111-2. P. 19, mm. 245-52.

As Meyerbeer wrote the Anabaptist theme in C minor, at least most of

the time, Liszt also writes Ad nos in C minore However, when the

borrowed theme is heard for the first time in its complete form, it

appears in F~ major, a key relationship forecasting the tritone practices

of the twentieth century. 3

3Bartok favors tonal centers which are a tritone apart.

According to Erno Lendvai, in his book Béla Bartok: An Analysis of His
Music (London: Kahn & Averill, [c. 197~), two keys, known as pole and
counterpole, form an axis. There are two axes in a composition, one
serving a tonic function, and the other a dominant.
 69

The work is divided into three sections: a Fantasia in which

the three phrases of the chorale theme are introduced separately and

developed, an Adagio beginning with a complete statement of the chorale

and a Fugue, freely contrapuntal like a grand improvisation. The

gigantic canvas with broad sweeping lines and block-like sections

carved out by registers or tone color suggest an orchestral concept

of composition. 4 Dupré does not acknowledge that Liszt intended to

imitate the orchestra, but he-proposes that he treated "the 'groups'

of the organ like those of the orchestra. uS Both statements are

supportable only if offered in light of 'Liszt's relationship to the

opera. Not only did he enjoy the literature, but he 'repeatedly assigned

himself the arduous task oftranscribing selected'excerptsfor public

perfoTInance. The music of the theater and the concert hall impregnated

his whole being, liberalizing his attitudes toward religious music and

seasoning his organ works aswell. The immediate predecessors of Ad nos

then are not the transcriptions for piano of the Bach preludes and fugues,

but rather are the operatic transcriptions for piano of Bellini,

Donizetti, Meyerbeer, Glinka, Mozart and Rossini.

Since Liszt's imagination was not to be suppressed by the

churchly role of the organ, he wrQte his first piece in a free,

improvisa tory style greatly enlarging the fount of techniques for the

instrument. Those who listen to Ad nos and shout "piano music for the

organ" are no doubt referring to an abundance of arpeggiated figuration

which, admittedly, reaches a saturation point. He seems to exhaust

every possible means of separating a chord:

4sakken, "Liszt and the Organ," p. 27.

~ Tr01S
Sn upre, . 0 euvres, p. 1V.
.
 70

a) alternating hands reversing direction

m. 74

\ - --
/
V
b) alternating hands in the same direction

m. 78 m. 359

\ \ /- -/
\ \
c) both hands in contrary motion
/ /
m. 120 m. 175

."--/
.-._-_
.... ............ ­

~
plus various combinations of crab-like movement within one hand.

Passages in broken octaves, both in right and 1eft hand are used

extravagant1y here, a figuration which is unusua1 in organ music. In

his 1ater works for organ Liszt became far more economical in octave

doub1ings, often rewriting octaves to other interva1s of fu11er sonority.

Evident1y this aspect of organ composition was reconsidered by Liszt, a

reaction which may have been prompted by a better understanding of the

larger instrument at Merseburg and its overtone development.

In a comparative ana1ysis of piano and organ music the role of

the left hand is most subject to change. If it is no longer charged

with the custody of the bass line, does it engage in a totally

independent part or sÛllp1y fill in the middle register? For the most
 71

part, the left hand functions here as an extension of the right hand,

either cooperating in the passage work described earlier or duplicating

the right hand sonorities an octave below.

Ex. 111-3. P. 2, mm. 1-4.

)Ioderato :.::[J_-_7~6:..:]_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _- : : - - - - ­
.~

~~~~~

When not behaving as a mirror, the 1eft hand adds a gravitational element

to the music by harnessing the high, figurational patterns of the right

hand to a low, slower-moving countermelody in the left.

Ex. 111-4. P. 7, mm. 98-99.

Of the two, the right hand is the most active in the work so that the

reverse is rarely true. However, there are three instances where the

1eft hand assumes the moving voice in scalework (m. 659), broken

octaves (m. 708) and accompaniment patterns (m. 301).

An independence of 1ine cornes to the fore in the next example

 72

where the lowest voice of the left hand is the counterpole to the three

higher voices.

Ex. LII-5~- Pp. 20-21, mm. 294-300.

.... 1
~-.-t."',
~J~ I:J b­
J
-
~-.......... rall...ntandu
-0

• .r
I.
- l"­
~ --...
1~-:~''';;''_~
=-~
--.:;;.
~ = 1

The stratification of the voices is maintained into the canon section

where the left hand is the cornes sounding a sixth higher and necessitating

crossed hands.

Ex. 111-6. P. 23, mm. 337-43.

in tempo
 73

Even in the Fuga where one would expect the left hand to function in a

linear framework, the character of the subject is so strongly harmonic

that one is unaware of the horizontal composition present. The left

hand remains faithful to the contrapuntal discipline until m. 526

wherein the improvisational character wins out and the left hand is

paired with other voices, or, as in m. 552, doubles the soprano part.

Ex. 111-7. P. 35, mm. 550-53.

According to the title page, Ad nos was conceived for organ,

Pedalflügel, or one-piano-four-hands. Modern editions vary extensively

in the material accorded to the pedale Margittay in the Critical

Commentary to Volume l writes:

We have accepted an interesting idea in the edition by

Straube and Dupr~ in which the lower part of the arrangement
for one-piano-four-hands has been retained as the pedal part
of the organ work. 1t is obvious that by omitting the
above-mentioned part from the printed version for organ,
Liszt simp1y intended to make the performance easier from
a technica1 point of view. This omission, however, has
become superf1uous in view of the potentia1ities of our
modern instrument. These instances Bars 92-95~ 477-85,
593-602, 714-21 have been marked ossia •

Thus the issue of what constitutes authentic pedal material cannot be

resolved. For instance, in the section Allegro deciso (mm. 449-76) the

6Margittay, Organ Works, l, 83.

 74

sixteenth<notes are written for pedal solo in Dupr~ and Straube and

manuals alone in Margittay and Pècsi. Although it would be comforting

to be able to document the exact performance practice in such a

situation, the substance of this paper does not rest with settling

such an issue, but rather in determining what technical potential

would have been artistically acceptable to Liszt. The title page

reveals that Liszt was a pragmatist, and so, no doubt, the performance

of his works assumed many fOrfis.

Therefore in the most expanded version of Ad nos, the princip les

of pedal technique are without precedent. Conspicuously absent from

the virtuoso sections are the figurational patterns employing

alternating feet, a technique which was an integral part of J. S. Bach's

pedal language. Although thoroughly indoctrinated to the organ in the

transcription of Bach's organ works to piano, Liszt sets aside this

convenient pedaling for more taxing lines. In place of the "stairstep"

pedaling, Liszt writes pure scalar material and in abundant portions.

Even though Bach used pedal scales, he did not use them to the degree

found here. Obviously, the examples quoted are taken from the< duet

version noted above and remain uncorroborated in organ score.

Ex. 111-8. P. 29, mm. 458-65.

•
 75

461
A Il 1 1 ri 1 1 1

..
"',,:,~
J1'D
"";_ <II>­

LLlJ Lll J ". "• .,;-:;i;J:;.J."';

l'''ï l
-
rïïlJ:TJ) 1 fL#~Il .... . -
~ Il'' .. '.*' .­

Ex. 111-9. Pp. 37-38, mm. 594-602.

In Ad nos, tri11s are used frequent1y in the peda1s as an

agitating device. Both measured (m. 132 and m. 450 depending on the

edition) and free tri11s occur, the most unique is in m. 575 where
 76

the right foot trills while the left foot sustains an octave

lower. 7

Ex. III-ID. P. 36, mm. 575-81.

r~-----r'-----.,f-------·r·---" r'~-----fL_----r'

Octaves are just as prevalent in the pedals as in the manuals. One

notable variation occurs in m. 203: octaves alternate between feet

and the notes of eachfoot are played legato.

Ex. III-Il. P. 16, mm. 203-13.

7Again, editions vary and in Duprè the lower octave is omitted,

alleviating the problem.
 77

Thematic materia1 is a precious commodity in the peda1 and when

used, it is distinctive1y hand1ed. In Ad nos peda1 writing can be

divided into three categories:

a) Sequentia1 treatment of motives in opposition to manua1

figuration. Mm. 191-202, mm. 92-95 Ossia and mm. 610-16.

Ex. 1II-12. P. 15, mm. 191-95 •

19/ b,J!.~('galnl
.~ b.J
AI'.'

.. t 111 1
-- 1

l Il 1 L 1 1 1 1 1111
-r.:: Ç=t:::::

1 Il 1 11 .1 1 J 1 11 ~JJJ Jl~
~ ... ...
rJ-' =if
- ­ -
Tf
'iii - :; ~

~J~
1
- . ,­
1

--t.

b) Peda1 response to manua1 me1ody. Mm. 301-12.

8

Ex. 111-13. P. 21, mm. 301-12.

8Editions vary here with on1y Margittay p1acing this 1ine in the
peda1s. Because of registration combinations there may be no difference
perceptible to the 1istener and the instance is noted as one other option
for the feet.
 78

c) Peda1 as cQmp1ementary, rhythm to entire manua1 b1ock.

This device is reserved for the Tromba sections and the
Fuga and since the entrance of the peda1 is de1ayed in
both cases to the midpoint of each section, it becomes
an indispensable tool in the perpetuation of a rhythmic
drive. Mm. 156-74 and mm. 566-72.

Ex. 111-14. P. 11, mm. 156-57.

Ex. f11-15. P. 35, mm. 566-69.

 79

d) Thematic materia1 extended into figuration against sustained

manua1 chords. Mm. 486-91 and mm. 17-34.

Ex. 111-16. Pp. 2-3, mm. 17-34.

U:R ·11 .:';­ 6 :.JI ~.8 . ------..;:

~~~-
4
.

~
1
1.1);.'1,-_
r. -:tf ..::::~
ï:l _ .... tJ ~tt ~ .H­ :.8.· __

~~
----:--:--. ...- -..... . .
,. ..
-

Considering the flamboyant character of Ad nos and the melodic

interest in the pedal overall, one might expect to find the pedal used

in solo capacity for more exhibitionistic purposes. Contrary to such

expectations, the pedal, when alone, never indulges in virtuosic

flourishes nor does it carry the burden of points of climax. The

function of solo pedal is reserved for:

a) Introduction: mm. 1-34. (See preceding example)

b) Transitional material: mm. 66-73 and mm. 726-39.

 80

Ex. 111-17. P. 49,:mm. 726-39.

Il - ,
1 -
• '"
-(7

k .,...'
~
1 :

- ~
- L...J....I.-' ......-­
~ ~I"...r- .1­

- ~
,...,..,-r-, _

73Z ritenuto

-
c) Cadenza-1ike sections with rhythm more structured in the
peda1 than manua1s: mm. 209-44.

Ex. III-lB. P. 17, mm. 217-22.

ZI7

r
 81

d) Exploitation of register groupings: UnD. 245-71.

Ex. 111-19. P. 19, mm. 263-70.

Although Liszt did not specify the registrational combinations

he envisioned, he does offer a brief instruction at the beginning of

the work:

Die Orgel-Register müssen den Bezeichnungen-gemass (p,f, pp, ff)

a~gewandt werden. (Tije registration must take .account of the
-s1.gns, p, f, pp, ff.)

The element of tone color was of prime importance to Liszt; he simply

accorded the choice of registration to the discretion of the performer

and the resources of his instrument. Only in two places does Liszt

appear to deliver the performer from the ambiguities which plague the

rest of the work. In mm. 141 and 150 is written the word Tromba. If

this is a registration indication, it is the on1y specific stop called

for in the entire work. However, since none of the organs known to

Liszt include this stop in their specifications, such an assumption is

debatable. Furthermore, tromba was not the conventional term used to

designate a reed chorus either. Understanding that implicit in many

registrational markings is an artistic directive to the player relating

to the manner of performance, it is possible that Liszt was indicating

more than a particular tone color. Therefore, although these fanfare

9Margittay, _O_r~g~a_n_W
__o_r_k_s, l, p. 1.
 82

sections were probably conceived for reeds, they also require an

aggressive and sharply articulated style of playing.

Experimentation with sonority is hardly limited to the selection

of stops but is extended to the arrangement of textures, etc. Especially

in the Adagio where the phrases are further fragmented by fermatas, the

focal point is no longer harmonic prolongation but the enhancement of

a simple chorale melody by register placement. Sometimes it is monodic,

for left hand or for pedals; other times it is harmonized and situated

in the treble, rather high for its density.

The performer who is sensitive to the improvisational character

of the work will be confronted with two problems: first,-drawing the

rhapsodie arpeggiations into an artistic shape; and second, adding to

the literaI notation those liberties which are implicit in the score.

While this is the customary role of the performer, with Ad nos and its

loosely-woven structure, the performer must give shape where the composer

does not. Liszt's pursuit of a free style is reinforced by an 'apparent

predilection for unmeasured passages. Although cadenzas are never

interpolated into organ works to the degree that they appear in the

earlier piano music, Liszt prefaces the Adagio section with a very

extensive recitative section, the length of which will not be duplicated

1

in any of the later organ pieces. Not only do the unmeasured flourishes

involve more notes, but the range between the highest and lowest pitches

is unusually wide for organ. Contours of such acute angles will be

reduced substantially in the other organ works. As a matter of fact,

this aspect of freedom, which in effect is the essence of Ad nos, is not

to become an integral part of Liszt's organ style at aIl. Rather it

 83

appears to be a passing fancy, only to be discarded in the next major

works for more constrained limits.

The lack of agreement in editions is evidenced not only in

differing note values, both manuals and pedal, but also in the

interpretive aspects of the work. There is a consensus, however, that

the tempo must be flexible, to accord an elasticity in the lines, but

each editor solves the problem differently. Both Straube and Dupré

indicate numerous changes of tempo, while Margittay notes in the

preamble that "the composer hardly indicated the changes in tempo, but

it is our opinion that, appropriate to the music, a free treatment of

the tempi of the sections is (according to the conception of the work)

not only permissible but explicitly required • .,lO Pecsi is similar to

Margittay.

Although Ad nos represents a radical departure from the

conventional techniques for organ, most of its so-called innovations

cannot be properly credited to Liszt. Other composers contemporary

with Liszt were also experimenting with less traditional textures and

sorne of their ideas are evidenced here. Above aIl others, Mendelssohn

wa.s the most creative, initiating a freedom in his Sonatas which was yet

unfamiliar to the organ. This freedom assumed many postures: form,

registraI colorings, manual and pedal technique. The movements of the

Sonatas range from chorale preludes and fugues to "Songs without Words"

translated to the organ. Besides using the full range of the keyboard

in figurations that coyer from one extreme to the other, he writes

longer, virtuosic passages for pedal, especially in the first, second,

lOIbid.
 84

fifth and sixth sonatas, that are more figurational than bass oriented.

In spite of his originality, Mendelssohn remains the "Classicist,"

promising a freedom which could not be entirely fulfilled in his idiome

It was the destiny of Liszt to adopt these freedoms and exaggerate them

to even greater proportions. The loosely-woven structure, the unusual

length and the flamboyant nature aIl attest to the liberation of an organ

style in the hands of Liszt.

Monitored also by the less impulsive qualities, one can detect

some obvious gestures in the style of Robert Schumann. The canon at

the sixth may be an imitation of a device favored by Schumann, and the

harmonie structure and rhythmic style of the Tromba sections may be a

reflection of the finale of the "'Etudes

" -Symphoniques (1834, revised 1852).

Besides the rèferences to the past, Ad nos served as a source of

inspiration for subsequent works. Liszt's own monumental Sonata in B

minor, completed in 1853, was the next large-scale keyboard work to be

written and it is difficult to resist some obvious points of comparison.

Supposedly the thirty-minute piano sonata was the first sonata in which

Liszt was to roll aIl the contrasting movements into one, although the

formaI structure of Ad nos precludes this observation. ll The title

"Fantasy and Fugue" is misleading for it suggests a bi-partite division

which actually does not exist here. In spite of the episodic character

which could produce a kind of shapelessness, Liszt constructs Ad nos in

three contrasting movements without indicating the formaI divisions in

the score. As in the B-minor Sonata, a fugue is p1aced at the beginning

1lLouis Kentner, "Solo Piano Music (1827-61)," in Franz Liszt:

The Man and His Music, ed. by Alan Walker (New York: Taplinger
Publishing Co., 1970), p. 83.
 85

of the Finale movement. It is not far-fetched to propose, that Ad nos

May be a sonata for organ in the sense that it is a multi-movement

structure unified by different phrases of the Meyerbeer theme. While

the organization of the B-minor Sonata is much more sophisticated,12

the solution of fo~al problems is so similar in the two works that

Ad nos must be identified as the most immediate precursor of the piano

work, a testing ground for a new structural concept.

Both the piano and organ works served as models for a lesser-

known composer, Julius Reubke (1834-1858), a student of Liszt. Not a

prolific creator,--Reubke wrote only two pieces of substantial length:

Sonata in B minor for piano and Sonata·on the Ninety-fourth Psalm for

organ. In the latter, Reubke not only adopts the key of Ad nos, but

imitates its formaI structure even to the extent, of closing with a

fugue.

Without any reservations, we can conclude that Ad nos stands as

the hallmark of a new organ style. Ironically, the freedom of

imagination whicharoused the chastisement of so many writers, is the

same freedom which will assure his eminence as an organ composer.

12See R. M. Longyear, "Liszt's B minor Sonata: Precedents for

a Structural Analysis," Music Review, XXXIV (August, 1973), 198-209 for
an extensive discussion of its IfDouble-function" forme
 CHAPTER IV

"WEINEN, KLAGEN" VARIATIONS FOR PIANO AND ORGAN

In 1862, after the premature death of his daughter Blandine,

Liszt wrote the "Weinen, Klagen" Variations for piano and then in 1863

transcribed them for organ. The work is known by the general public

under several different titles--for example, on the basis of literary

sources, the following is considerably well-known: Variationen über

den Basso continuo des ersten Satzes der Kantate "Weinen, . . Klagen • • ."

und des Crucifixus aus der H-Moll Messe von J. S. Bach; but the original

title in Liszt's own handwriting is "Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen,

Zagen •

The use of transcriptions to determine compositional techniques

idiomatic to a particular instrument may be subject to question. It is

understood that the very process of transcription involves a continuaI

adaptation of musical content to instrumental effectiveness or

convenience--a virtual compromise from the outset. Such a situation can

inhibit the composer unduly so that the transcription is not

representative of the composer's most creative expression for that

particular instrument. Acknowledging these limitations, the analysis

of a transcription, when approached from another point of view, can

determine first, those techniques which are suitable to both instruments

and thus remain unchanged in transcription, and second, those techniques

~argittay, Organ Works, IV, 27.

86
 87

which are ineffective on the new instrument and necessitate modification.

The issue then is not to catalog the notes which are changed, but rather

to determine the: reason for which the composer considers the original

unsatisfactory in transcription and the reason the revision takes its

new forme

In the "We inen , Klagen" Variations the relationship of the

transcription to the original appears at first to be rather direct. At

least in the first 56 measures the organ version strongly resembles the

piano in terms of thematic material, texture, and phrasing, suggesting

that the discussion of this chapter would dwell more on defining the

common heritage of the two instruments based on the core of material

literallyduplicated in the transcription, than on providing a rationale

for a change in compositional approach. But appearances are misleading

and closer analysis verifies that the domain common to both instruments

is, unexpectedly, of small dimensions.

The material which, in the opinion of Liszt, is suitable to both

instruments and is transcribed unchanged occupies only 40 measures in aIl,

somewhat more than half of these (24 measures) occurring within the first

46 measures of the work. 2 The remaining sixteen measures

(Pf. 231-46/0rg. 232-47)3 are in the middle of the work serving a

transitional function; both notes and slurring are copied intact.

2This figure does not include those measures where the

modifications are even of the slightest degree, such as a note or an
inconspicuous adjustment in doubling or slurring.

3Because the measure numbers do not coincide in the two versions,

examples in the text will cite both the original piano version,
abbreviated Pf. and the organ transcription, abbreviated Org., followed
by their respective measure numbers.
 88

With the exception of the transitional passage, the duplicate

measures do not form a block unit but are interspersed throughout the

opening section. On the average, this material, including the

transition, lies above middle C on the keyboard, is spaced in three or

four voices for hands alone and moves largely in a cpnjunct manner at a

rhythmically moderate pace. A striking exception to this generalization

is the opening .eight measures where the texture is more dense and the

range lies lowon the keyboard (see Ex. IV-38). As a fortissimo passage

this setting is more conducive to piano than to organ, and it is

noteworthy that Liszt did not elect tomake sorne adjustment in the

transcription. Apart from completely rewriting the introduction, he

could have lifted the manual chords to a less muddled register or

lightened their density by reducing the number of chord tones. If a

change was mandatory, the choice would have been an obvious one: to

reduce the weight of the chords. The process of changing registers is

a potent means of creating interest on most instruments, and thus its

effect is rarely diluted. In these variations, an abrupt change of

register is a frequent recourse for the organ when the piano has a

change of figuration. Since the dividing line between the introduction

and the first variation is accomplished mainly through a change in

register, Liszt would not jeopardize this effect by minimizing the

contrast. Evidently the clarity of the voice leading was of less

importance than the dramatic impact of the introduction, and thus the

transcription stands as a LiteraI quotation of the original.

Since the matter of duplicative material can be attended so

succinctly, the bulk of this chapter is concerned with the differences

 89

between the organ transcription and the original. Recognizing that a

note by note comparison yields useful data, but deadly reading, the

analytical findings will be discussed under four main headings: the

relationship of each version to the Bach model, the study of pitch

content and certain related parameters, the rhythmic organization, and

the treatment of the chorale.

The historicism that prevailed in the mid-nineteenth century

found expression not only in the regeneration of older forms and idioms,

but in the literaI quotation of themes. The chromatic basso ostinato

was a familiar device of the Baroque period and thus, when the music of

Bach was rediscovered, it was likely that the theme of the "Weinen,

Klage~' Cantata should engender interest. According to Friedrich Blume,

the Bach works were slow to appear in Germany, the clavier and

instrumental works being published first followed by a few vocal pieces.

Actually, Mendelssohn's revival of the St. Matthew Passion in 1829 was

most responsi~le for arousing interest in the vocal repertoire.

Nevertheless, before 1850, Germanywas to see the publication of a few

pieces: the B-minor Mass, the Magnificat, the St. Matthew and St. John

Passions plus a limited number of cantatas. 4

The ''Weinen, Klagen" cantata was first published in the second

volume of the Bach-Gesellschaft of 1853. Although it is not known

precisely when Liszt became acquainted with the work, he did use the

ostinato in a Praeludium for piano in 1859. This apparent receptivity to

new publications identifies Liszt less as a retrospective thinker and

more as a musician abreast of the current research and involved in the

4Blume, "Bach in the Romantic Era," pp. 294-95.

 90

dissemination of new infonnation. Thus, in this capacity, Liszt most

probably felt some obligation to remain faithful to the Bach model, both

in the use of the basso ostinato and the thematic material. Although

the ground bass is identical in both the Cantata and the Mass, the

variational treabnent above favors the diatonic choral lines of the

cantata rather than the ascending augmented secoruLof the "Crucifixus. tt

In both versions the ostinato is obvious to the ear MOst of the time,

but as in Bach's Passacaglia, it is freely manipulated from one level to

another, not always reserved for bass treatment. Although the pitches

of the theme remain faithful to the original, occasionally the

durational values are changed. Again and again, Liszt alters the third

measure of the ostinato by prolonging the Db from m. 2 to the first beat

of m. 3.

Ex. IV-l. The ostinato theme.

Bach
Version

Liszt
Alternate

Predilection for the delay of movement to the dominant is intensified in

Pf. 49 when the Db pitch is implied for seven beats before resolving to

the dominant. And finally, this freedom is extended to the outermost

limit when in Pf. 182 reso1ution of the Db is denied a1together. Similar

extensions of the Db occur in the transcription often at points

coincidental with the original. Sometimes the durations or compositional

structures May differ. Example IV-2 illustrates the close relationship

 91

of the transcription to the original where the C sounds on the main

beats but the Db is interjected as a nonharmonic tone.

Ex. IV-2. Pf. p. 3, mm. 71-75; Orge p. 30, mm. 68-72.

The modified theme is used interchangeably-with the origina~ and, by

delaying the movement to the dominant, increases the drive to the

cadence and the expectancy of resolution to the tonie. Even when the

meter is changed to 4/4 and the ostinato moves in successive half notes,

the Db is frequently doubled in value permitting the C to fall on an

accented part of the measure. Both the Bach theme and the alternate

version were viable alternatives for Liszt who, not to be misguided by

blinded reverence for the oIder master, predicated his freer

compositional techniques on musical effectiveness rather than

petrification of an historie model.

For the most part, the presence of the ostina'to is more evident

in the organ than in the piano; There are several piano variations

where it is subtly woven into arpeggiated filigree;

 92

Ex. IV-3. Pf. p. 6, mm. 133-37.

plus others where it is buried in an inner voice (see Ex. IV-16,

Pf. 79-83). In both these instances the organ countermands the vagaries

of the piano by locating the ostinato in a prominent position.

At times, in an effort to bind variations, the piano will

bridge the repetition of the bass theme by means of a descending

chromatic line.

Ex. IV-4. Pf. pp. 6-7, mm. 145-49.

Such connecting techniques are less preferred by Liszt the organist,

for he frequently avoids such continuous melodic movement and rewrites

the bass to clarify rather than disguise the repetition of the ostinato.

This same principle is il1ustrated in the next example where the

repetition of the ostinato is clearly defined in the organ but is made

even more ambiguous in the piano.

 93

Ex. IV-S. Pf. p. 4, mm. 87-95; Orge p. 31, mm. 84-92.

rileoulo
84
'. -- ",:,.
-- .hM ."'"
-;....
JΠ~r-f":f-f"

.;).:::::::==- r-.h­
<
~.

, '''"f'''
~J - .,lf--;- JI 1 1 ..J ;~

.
:J, .. .JI b.J I~~'
--I/C.­
- .
1 1 1 j j 1

-
i

:
pp
~
- .--.- ­
.
']-t.
,~
, 1 1 . 1

In Pf. 91 which connects the statements of the ostinato, the bass line

descends by step, requiring the F to serve in a dual capacity: that is,

as resolution of the previous statement, and initiator of the new one.

Because of the stepwise contour, the beginning of the ostinato figure is

obscured. On the other hand, in Orge 88 the pedal line is rewritten so

that a leap of a fourth precedes the F of the new ostinato. Moreover,

the statements are divided into two phrases perrnitting to an even greater

degree the accentuation of the repetition. Later in the piano score,

Liszt resorts to more radical means to minimize the effect of a

repeti tion •.
 94

Ex. IV-6. Pf. PP,_ 7-8, am. 162-67.

In Pf. 166 the bass 1ine proceeds chromatically from dominant to tonic

necessitating the inclusion of an added measure. Instances of added

material in the transcription are very infrequent, and a thorough

investigation of the circumstances is summarized in the section on pitch

content. To foreshadow the discussion slightly, each beat and each

measure new1y written for the transcription may be justified on purely

musical grounds, and are not the fanciful creation of an improviser.

Therefore, in that light, Pf. 166 is not a whim, but rather an ins.ertion

of exceeding consequence intended to camouflage possible segmentation

between the variations.

As the Cantata used the chorale ''Was Gott tut, dass ist wohlgetan"

as the concluding movement, so Liszt crowns both sets of variations with

an e1aborated setting of the same. There is a curious disparity in the

anacrustic note: the piano states D accompanied by Bb and the organ

 95
solos a C which, by the way, is in agreement with the Bach source. By

this time, nineteenth-century composers had become familiar with the

numerous Baroque settings of a single chorale tune and were no doubt

aware of the freedoms exercised by Baroque co~posers in adjusting

melody notes to accommodate a particular harmony. Thus, the difference

in notes is of less consequence than the circumstances which provoke

the change. In both cases, the choraleis preceded by a transitional

sec tion.

Ex. IV-7. Pf. pp. 16-17, mm. 315-24; Orge p. 43, mm. 320-37.

1':\ _"""'0 -
; 'ur-~~:-~i: p: -
-! LAii. >
1
::0­

-r=t==t..tt.t.,. ~.
>­
1:-9

Choral.
Lento.

-
w.... 00" tll\, 4.u ï.t
JI ~=-- i • ...

l
tJ

~~
-
. r·
lÜlu
.... 1

or
,
1

•
~
 96

ftranquillo. quasi r«itativo 80[

- ~--- .,;.­
Il -

rfJ
Â! •
1 !fA..9'­
[iil ,
::~E:+-"~
. .... ... I~f!!: -t-.

-'" I~;'- J+' r st",pt"I'l'imlO

L­

~J:
~
ft. •
I~ -t"r9----­ -----F tl"~"
fi L -- -~

-_._-­
t-F
=-1 :1 -------~- ... ;= -

For the piano this assumes a free, improvisatory character largely due

to the unmeasured melisma within it which draws a wide arc in its

travels. At the lowest pitch of the arc, Liszt reinstates the 3/4 meter

and reverses the direction of theline, thereby approaching the chorale

from below rather than above. Since the chorale must now be approached

from below, the pitch D is a natural extension of the ascending line,

providing the necessary transportation into the down-beat of the chorale

melody. For the organ, because the transition is completely measured,

the arc is less bold and changes direction once rather than twice.

Therefore the chorale is approached from above and the dominant pitch C

is a logical termination of the descending chromatic scale.

Comparison of versions is somewhat unenlightening if the only

discovery rests on the differences of notation rather than effect. A

paper which attempts a definition of idiomatic style must deal with the

musical concepts faced by the composer and the manner he chooses to

adapt them to the physical limitations of the instrument. Most everyone

 97

knows the infinite sustaining powers of the organ and, depending upon

the instrument and hall, the diverse palette of tonal colors and wide

dynamic range. However, its virtues become its pitfalls. The

sustaining quality is condemned to a state of inertia and the composer

must search for a variety of means to effect a continuous current of

motion. The piano poses the opposite problem because here motion is

not the issue, but rather the discovery of a method which achieves a

static effect through sound rather than memory. That is, when the rhythm

and dynamics have been subdued and the piano is silenced, even if

momentarily, then the absence of motion has been achieved unequivocally.

The listener experiences this phenomenon through a recollection of the

previous motion during the period of silence and, on a subconscious level,

decelerates the activity to the absolute state of inertia. But to achieve

an identical state without the aid of silence is exceedingly more

difficult for the piano. Certainly the illusion of sustained sound

without the unwelcome intrusion of rhythmic activity is a precious

commodity in piano literature but,. as was discussed in Chapter l, was

,
successfully negotiated by Liszt in the last Paganini Etude. Therefore,

it is not sufficient to conclude that idiomatic style implies only that

the organ sus tains and the pi~no decays. Rather, the principle of

idiomatic writing must encompass those techniques which effectively

exhibit the organ in motion and the piano at reste

That Liszt dealt with these antipodes and, in so doing, enlarged

the working vocabulary of each instrument, is the primary factor in

establishing him as the cynosure of nineteenth-century keyboard style.

The comprehensive discussion of pitch content and rhythmic organization

of the Variations is premised on two fundamental assumptions. First,

 98

Liszt was primarily concerned with the accumulation of intensity and its

eventual relaxation or resolution. And second, he sought to realize

thismusical axiom with an instrumental language that was not -impaired

by the unrelenting tone of the organ or the immediate decay of the

piano. Although Liszt extended the potential of each instrument to its

outermost limit, he also was aware that certain principles of composition

must be implemented differently. A comparative analysis of the

transcription and its original yielded pages of data where Liszt had

changed a pitch, a note value or more often larger portions for the sake

of instrumental effectiveness. These findings were first separated into

two categories, changes affecting pitch and changes affecting rhythm,

and then were classified according to the purposes they served. Thus,

the material related to pitch content involves the related parameters

of keyboard compass and its implications, problems of climax, use of

dissonance, comparison of texture and the function of the pedale Each

of these will be discussed individually in reference to the axiom cited

previously.

Because the gamut of the piano keyboard is twenty-seven notes

larger than that of the organ, the use of wide contours to create

intensity is far more natural to the piano._ Throughout the transcription

there are examples where Liszt minimizes the organ contours even though

the instrument is capable of playing the original piano version as

written (see Ex. IV-7).

Another example illustrates, however less dramatically, this same

conservation of distance.
 99

Ex. IV-B. Pf. p. 2, mm. 22-26; Orge p. 2B, mm. 20-24.

In this case the piano rises by thirds at the cadence and the organ is

rewritten to move by step. It is not that the piano version exceeds

the physical dimensions of the organ keyboard. To be sure, range is not

a factor here either. Rather the transference of material from piano

to organ is contingent on the relative importance of that contour in

relation to the entire work. While the peak of a single contour may

contribute to a momentary climax, the structure of the work, erected in

part by the points of tension and relaxation, is dependent upon a number

of contours designed to sus tain interest and guide the listener to the

ultimate climax of the piece. As the importance of each contour is

relative to its responsibility in the overall design, so the overall

design is relative to the compass of the keyboard. Since the maximal

range is substantially smaller on the organ, the transcription of music

from piano to organ obligates the composer to reduce proportionately most

of the contours. Failure to do this would pro.bably cause an imbalance

in the overall design and leave the piece ineffective for the instrument.
 100

The limitation of key range on the organ forces the composer

to deal with the problem of climax through modification of spatial

treatment as weIl. Intensity is the result of not only rising pitch

leve1s and an increased decibe1 1eve1, but a1so a prolongation of an

idea dissonant to the tastes of the 1istener. Since these three

1eve1s (pitch, range and duration) cannot be app1ied democratica11y

to both instruments, the composer is forced to make some compensations.

The organ, equipped for maximum sustaining power but handicapped by a

sma11er compass, can afford to indu1ge 1uxuriously in an expanded

preparation to a climax. The piano, on the other hand, in its myriad of

figurationa1 detai1, may compensate for the decay of tone and the 1esser

dynamic 1eve1 by compressing the time used to reach the climax. Severa1

examp1es can document this statement.

Ex. IV-9. Pf. p. 16, mm. 299-314; Orge pp. 41-42, mm. 299-319 •

..­ -'c
!.i '~ ~-
~i~.~ li l ~. _~
; ~; i
li 11. _uati"jlllo
'l.a
'ta 'tw.

Il. 1

~
1
~-~:;;-
• :>­

1. \."~ _~
fr...L 7i "---.::=::::::r" 1 ~ •. J " - ' ­

~." :>
~i ~~ ~i ;~; ~
~ Of..l
 101

Here the piano steadily rises, changing pitch every measure so that in

the course of thirteen measures, the melodic line has travelled nearly

three octaves. The organ emp10ys basica11y the same pitch names but

doubles and quadruples the note values. The resu1t is that the organ

takes five additiona1 measures to arrive at a peak which is one octave

lower than the piano.

 102

A different method of compensation is illustrated next.

Ex. IV-IO. Pf. p. 15, mm. 273-78; Orge pp. '40-41, mm. 276-81.

In an effort to create a chromatic line which will consume more space

than normal, the piano is WTitten in ascending semi-tones with dips of

a major third every six pitches. The organ reduces the rhythmic

activity but retains the skeletal framework of the line by sustaining

the lowest note of the six in the pedale This is capitalizing on an

unexplained phenomenon of organ sound. That is, sustained tones,

especially when coupled with harmonie tension, tend to grow larger in

volume as they are held. So the problem of momentum and the accumulation

of intensity is solved at the organ by a prolongation of tone rather than

an increase of rhythmic movement.

The use of pedal points just described raises the question

whether Liszt modifies his treatment of dissonance when dealing with

nondecaying sound. There are places where a nonharmonic tone in the

piano becomes a chord tone in the organ, suggesting that Liszt may have

struggled with this problem. But suspensions and accented nonharmonic

tones are so prevalent elsewhere in the organ version, that other

 103

justifications seem warranted. The next four examples show instances

where differences between the scores invo1ve nonharmonic tones.

In the first, the piano minimizes the Gb , which, although a

chordal seventh, is treated as a passing tone of only an eighth-note

duration. The organ accentuates the Gb both in its placement directly

on the third beat and in its unquestionable function as a chord tone.

Ex. IV-Il. Pf. p. 3, mm. 62-63; Orge p. 30, mm. 59-60.

In both versions the Gb is preparatory to a suspension in the following

measure, and the situation is so similar that the whole matter seems

inconsequential. Such is not the case. Because the Gb is shifted

one-haif beat iengthening the preparation before the suspension, the

entrance of the pedal in Orge 60 is even more pronounced and the

dissonance is definitely magnified.

In the second exampie, the Ab is a passing tone in Pf. 74 and

a chord tone in Orge 71 (see Ex. IV-2). Reharmonization of the Ab is

prescribed by a contrast in the environs of the cadence. In the piano,

the cadential progression concludes two reserved statements of the

ostinato located in the upper register and marked first piangendo,

 104

then espressivo. Immediately after, the register is Iowered and a

crescendo is begun. The corresponding cadence in the organ has no

responsibility in defining the end of a section as the two chords

constitute a minor cadence which occurs in the midst of a rather long

section marked lagrimoso, and later pianissimo. Dissonance is a useful

tool in the definition of form and the proportion of dissonance in a

cadence is often related to the cadence's importance in the structure.

A curious incident is illustrated in Ex. IV-9. Because, in

Orge 300, the C is omitted on the first beat to avoid the clash C - Db,

the example seems to expose the organ in the ultimate deniai of

dissonance. But the analyst's preoccupation with the missing C is a

smoke screen to the real issue. That is, Liszt was more concerned with

reiterating the agogic accents of the ostinato, which stressed the

second beat, than of maneuvering to retain a dissonant C. The inclusion

of the G in the piano permitted an abrupt leap to the second beat,

whereas the exclusion in the organ permitted the pedai to re-enter after

approximately nine'beats rest at the upper part of the pedalboard.

While a low C octave would have been technically feasible, the rest

before the second beat gave even greater strength to the Db.

The last example concerned with revision of nonharmonic tones is:

Ex. IV-12. Pf. p. 3, mm. 65-67; Orge p. 30, mm. 62-64.

 105

Here the organ engages in the most biting dissonance of aIl, the D

against the pedal Db. Once again the example is located in the

penultimate measure of the ostinato and presents a curious paradoxe

The piano is literally without dissonance at this cadence and therefore,

in order to propel through the cadence, the resolution chord is made

less restful by the addition of twochromatic passing tones which bind

it to the next variation. The eighth-note pulse is retained in the

organ, but instead of rising to the high Db, the direction is reversed

in a suspension-resolution figure, cleanly separating the variations

to facilitate a change of manual. AlI four of these examples portray

Liszt as a composer aware of the most minute detail, willing to alter

even a single note to insure the compatibility of the composition and

its instrument.

The process of transcribing music ta an instrument which

differs so radically in physical specifications and musical effect from

the original, imposes on the transcriber the obligation to reconsider

some basic fundamentals of composition. Committed more to maintaining

the substance of the piece rather than its grammar, he will be confronted

with the decision to change notes, spacing, figuration, etc. in order to

strengthen the pillars of musical form in the new medium. Thus, as the
 106

composer must constantly detennine the textures which will convey the

musical idea best by the chosen medium, so the transcriber must return

to this early stage of composition, and re-evaluate the relationship

of the new instrument to the original music score. Fortunately in this

paper, the transcriber and composer are one and the same, so there is a

stronger probability that the transcriber will not finesse the integrity

of the original ideas unless the alternatives are indeed superior.

Recognizing the creative role of the transcriber, the area of

texture, as a means for adapting musical substance to a particular

instrumental idiom, becomes even more comprehensive. Most crucial to

the analysis of keyboard style is the aspect of spacing. Because the

voices must be arranged within the physical reach of the player, the

differences between the instruments would appear to be negligible. But

the addition of the pedal liberates the left hand from the bass line, so

that the organist may spread the tones farther apart than the pianist,

provided that these tones are sounded simultaneously with both hands in

the same register. There are repeated instances in these variations, as

in the next example, where the part writing is rewritten to open position,

so that aIl voices are more evenly spaced, including the distance between

bands which rarely exceeds an octave.

Ex. IV-13. Pf. p. 2, m. 54; Orge p. 29, m. 51.

.
1
 107

Of course, as has already been alluded to in the preceding paragraph, the

subject of spacing at the piano is inextricably entwined with that of

register placement and intensity level. For the piano to settle for

open position, it has voluntarily imprisoned itself within one register

and canee lIed the opportunity for a fortissimo level in the middle and

uppermost regions. This refers to the simultaneous sounding of vertical

sonorities only, and can be easily qualified by arpeggiated harmonies

sustained by the damper pedale The stronger arrangement, by far, is

close position where the disposition of the harmonie material is mainly

in the right hand and is supported by the bass line, often doubled in

octaves, in the left (see Ex. IV-lO). This permits ,the hands to function

not only close.together but also farapart without sacrificing the

sonori ty of the passage. ,- . Moreover, if a more thunderous effec t is

sought, both hands may be laden with chord tones and the gap between rnay

be even further exaggerated.

Ex. IV-14. Pf. p. 9, mm. 176-77; Orge p. 35, mm. 172-73.

- , 1 t 1

,rJ" 71 ____
;'1-----­
~
 108

Ipoco • po~o .~~el·1

~ r" ~.. ~~ ~
"
.. .fi' J-+...1 ~ i­ ....... I~ ;;".,i
-
•=,g. --:: ....:::t ~ . 1,.., '" .....
i
,~ fil'­

1 t 1 . 1

-"" ~. /J* :d ,.

Because the organ would never presume to venture into such high risk

territory, there is not a single instance where the composer will empty

the middle range to engage in both extremities. As in the above example

the left hand is raised about an octave to balance the sonority. It is

possible that the solution to this difference in spacing and register

rests with an acoustical spectrum of the relative intensityof overtones;

but to my knowledge no experiments have beendone on thesubject.

Unfortunately the physicists are still trying to explain in scientific

terms what the musicians understand intuitively. Therefore, until more

research is undertaken, we must just accept on face value the idea that

the hands must be spaced more closely at the organ than at the piano.

Relative to this, the overall density of the piano is much thicker than

the organ (see Ex. IV-2). Here it is obvious the extent to which Liszt

rearranged the organ version to provide more lucid movement, yet

retaining a similarity in voice leading.

Because of the overtone content of the organ, doublings in the

score may be confused with octave reinforcements in the registration.

Therefore in ''Weinén, Klagen", Liszt judges the doubling of voices as

undesirable and rewrites passage work in the transcription to avoid it.

Octaves are reduced to:

a) single notes
 109

Ex. IV-15. Pf. p. 4, mm. 96-97; Orge p. 31, mm. 93-94.

, pOc:o _ poco _cccl.

Œ~ YI I~-- ~.
~
~a~:

.~
- -;t:::::::.
t:I'~,,,. J'OCtl a rtx'tI
r--J-l ,/
r7'
.....
-­ ~'
-
~- - ..-:..-­ ~."-

"­
..
b) thirds

Ex. IV-16. Pf. pp. 3-4, mm. 79-83; Orge pp. 30-31, mm. 76-80.

c) and sixths.

Ex. IV-17. Pf. p. 3, mm. 75-79; Orge p. 30, mm. 72-76 •

.,.
,.;;;;:. .---­
-~--
 110

This excludes the duplication of the manual bass in the pedal which is

inconclusive since the content of the pedal is indeterminable. 5

Repeated notes in the piano are also subject to revision in the

transcription. Because of the sustaining qualities of the organ, it is

Unpossible to detectwhen the second note has begun if the first has been

held for its full duration. The problem of clarification is then the

responsibility of the performer who must insert between the two notes a

rest of a length which clearly defines the repetition without calling

attention to the silence. The length of reverberation time in the

building compounds the problem and sometimes makes absolute clarity an

impossibility. Liszt anticipa tes this shortcoming and replaces the

repeated notes in the piano by a number of alternatives in the organ,

such as:

a) sustained notes

b) syncopated rhythms which continue the motion of the

eighth notes without the aid of repetition

Ex. IV-lB. Pf. p. 3, mm. '59-65; Orge p. 30, mm. 56-62.

5Straube, Pécsi and Margittay retain doubling, but Dupré

eliminates it altogether.
 III

c) arpeggios or added notes

Ex. IV-19. Pf. p. 5, mm. 113-16; Orge p. 32, mm. 110-13.

rit.rd.

d) changes of me10dic contour

Ex. IV-20. Pf. p. 12, mm. 225-26; Orge p. 38, mm. 226-27.
 112

Repeated notes in inner voices are often sustained and act as a binding

agent.

Ex. IV-21. Pf. p. 2, mm. 43-44; Orge p. 29, mm. 41-42.

In other instances the rhythm may be altered to eliminate a

repetition (see Ex. IV-15).

One final illustration occurs in the first variation where Liszt

inserts a rest on the second beat instead of repeating the resolution of

the suspension.

Ex. IV-22. Pf. p. 2, mm. 19-22; Orge p. 28, mm. 17-20.

It is interesting that Liszt elected to revise the organ version thus,

rather than to increase the duration of the suspension or to emp10y one

of the alternatives described earlier. Perhaps the organ version gave

 113

Liszt the opportunity to match the phrasing of the right hand with that

of the left. In addition, the figure, framed in part by the rests,

\

could be more easily identified as a sospiratio, producing an alteration

more harmonious with the Baroque Doctrine of Affections. Although it has

not yet been established what calibre of scholarship Liszt applied to

the early music, he was definitely exposed to the figure in the vocal

works of Bach and was perceptive enough to isolate such a mannerism in

the score.

As Liszt maneuvers the line to avoid repeated notes where even

the most innocent anticipation cannot escape his labors, so he manifests

concern over the general direction of melodic movement. Generally

speaking, there is a preponderance of contrary motion in the piano

version and an equal affinity to parallelism in the organ. There are

even instances where strong passages in contrary motion are replaced in

transcription by parallel voices (see Ex. IV-16). Yet another

illustration of contrary versus parallel motion is quoted next.

Ex. IV-23. Pf. p. 15, mm. 285-88; Orge p. 41, mm. 280-88.

[Più mo"..o.
ISoelea·1

~~
$J.j
 114

Here the piano arrives at the point of greatest dramatic impact by

unyie1ding chromatic 1ines moving in opposite direction. The same

~~-clirnax in the organ, Org. 280-88, is approached by parallel sixths on

main beats and by double pedal (excluded in Dupré edition, however), the

only pedal solo in the work.

The variation form is an ideal vehicle to exploit the range of

figurational patterns and here the piano responds the rnost imaginatively.

Most often, the piano introduces sorne new "twist" with each repetition

of the ostinato, although the broader texturaI relationship arnong

several variations irnplies a more unified hierarchy. -In contrast, the

organ is far more conservative and yet fulfills an obligation to make

sorne transformation at the start of a new variation. Sometirnes a simple

change of melodic direction is the organ's response to a change in piano

figuration.

Ex. IV-24. Pf. p. 8, mm. 169-72; Orge p. 35, mm. 165-68.

 115

1­
)

Often a composer desires to create a similar effect in the

transcription, but if the material is literally repeated, the auraI

effect would be contradictory to the original. InPf. 59 (see Ex. IV-lB)

the texture consists of repeated eighth notes supported by three-voiced

chords. If this passage were to be played on the organ as is, the

repeated notes would be totally obscured by the chords below. If the

hands would be divided on two manuals, the notes would be impossible to

play without using a coupled pedale Liszt decided not to draw from the

organist's "bag of tricks" and opted instead for a revision of texture.

In order to achieve a more weighty top which gathers intensity, supported

by hannonic interest of lesser importance, Liszt reverses the process

by placing syncopated repeated quarters in the soprano punctuated on the

beat by eighth-note chords below. The effect is comparable.

The variation commencing in Pf. 83 and marked 1egatissimo

requires a leggiero touch.

Ex. IV-25. Pf. p. 4, mm. 83-86; Orge p. 31, mm. 80-83.

 116

The effect is a combination of fluidity, insured by the pedal, and

constant motion, highlighted by a sweeping.contour. Legatissimo is

~'~'rarely a dilemma at the organ-, but in combination with an unrelenting

rhythm, adjustments are ûnperative. Here the contour is leveled and the

buoyancy in the original is translated to the organ as dotted rhythms.

Any section which requires a combination of both rhythmic motion

and maximum dynamic intensity demands the impossible of each instrument.

In the next example. the.piano is marked tempestuoso and the organ is

marked aIle gehalten by Straube, tutti tenuti by Margittay.

Ex. IV-26. Pf. p. 10, mm. l84-85;-Org. p~ 36, tmn. 180-81.

I_~ fI>"~.fl ~ 1 I.i t,.. ~flf'-' J 1.:

_. ~'1f "F -[ccpf ,;CfF 1 H;~!
1\
.{ 1-- .~-

,. &-1
t

. . . . . ._ 1 ­ .~-i:
;;;;;:;:=;=

~~
~ ~ .-----;'.....
~

~~: -
.'

.. ~-i.
ï?
-~---
~~J
.---.;~.
.

-' 1:
~::±::::::-
ruui lenuli

The piano figuration bI fi tJ fi gives harmonie eontinuity and

driving rhythm simultaneously. Unfortunately, this figuration had not

yet become the property of the organists and Liszt replaces it with an

alternate pattern. 6 Here the organ accumula tes sound through the playing

6It was not until the twentieth century that French organists,
like Henri Mulet and Marcel Dupré, began to use this pattern in organ
composition. In spite of its rapid-fire repetition, the figure adds a
new dimension to organ style--that of intense, rhythmic agitation-­
providing the reverberation time of the room is not too excessive.
 117

and sustaining of left hand arpeggios reinforced by the right hand in

similar sixteenth-note movement plus half notes on top.

The last parame ter of pitch content to be considered here is the

function of the pedal, especially as a possible additive to a pieee

originally coneeived for piano. Does the pedal only double the bass

line of the left hand or does it, through revision, fulfill some

independent duties? In the ''Weinen, Klagen" Variations the pedal

functions in five distinct capacities. Besides defining the bass line,

its principal role, the pedal can punctuate an existing bass line,

create harmonie tension through a pedal point, extend the playing range­

of the manuals, or prepare the ultimate elimax of the pieee. In the

next example the left hand possesses the aetual bass line, allowing it to

flow uninterrupted in a chroma tic movement.

Ex. IV-27. Orge pp. 29-30, mm. 50-52.

Meanwhile, the pedal enters, then withdraws, offering rhythmic

punctuation as weIl as a definition of the harmonie progression.

Pedal points, as a tension-producing device, are judiciously

reserved for the weightiest climaxes of the piece. The Variations are

no exception, for Liszt is understandably penurious until approximately

ninety measures before the chorale. Then prolonged ones occur, first on
 118

successive notes of a diminished triad, and later on a chromatic scale

slowly ascending to the dominant. The example cited next is taken from

the point the pedal reaches its destination, an event that is further

dramatized by a repetition an octave lower preceded by some measures

rest to add stress.

Ex. IV-28. Orge p. 41, mm. 288-97 •

.----..,.----- .. ----- ...

In most of the organ composition before Liszt's time, the peda!

division was looked upon as a separate entity, performing its function

as a counterweight to the manuals. The consideration of range as

comprising the distance from the lowest pedal note to the highest manual

note was slow in coming, but here in the Variations there is a glimmer .

that this idea was beginning to take ho1d. In only one instance, the

melodic line cannat be completed in the manuals and is transferred to

the pedalo It appears as though the hands "run out of notes."

 119

Ex. IV-29. Org. p. 40, mm. 248-55.

ISCNlttDutol 1_ ttmpoJ

Although this involves only one note, it foreshadows a technique which

Liszt was to expand in the second version of the Prelude and Fugue on

B-A-C-H (see Ex. V-3).

In aIl the illustrations above, the pedal serves a musical

purpose rather than indulging in empty, virtuosic display. This

statement gains even greater credibility when one reviews the use of solo

pedal. In the entire set of variations the pedal performs only one solo

role and there it is given the awesome responsibility of preparing the

most monumental climax of the piece (see Ex. IV-23). The passage is

four measures long but the pedal sounds alone for on1y two measures.

AlI in aIl, the pedal part is unchallenging, much more reserved than the

other two pieces discussed in this paper. The greatest difficulty is

the execution of the pedal octaves, although this would hardly tax a

qualified organist. At any rate, this piece does not attempt to exhaust

or expand the pedal technique known to Liszt through other pieces. It

is possible that the pedal never became an integral part of the entire

composition or else the substance of the piece did not warrant more than

what is already here. In my opinion, it is a combination of the two.

 120

A1though the changes in transcription affecting pitch content

are multitudinous, the manipulations involving rhythmic organization are

equally multi-faceted and contribute to the fundamental differentiation

of piano and organ style. Discussion of this phase will be subdivided

into a survey of added material producing an extension of time, a study

of rhythmic pacing, a comparison of rhythmic content at cadences, and an

observation concerning the unobtrusive shift of accent in the ostinato.

Extension of time for the sake of intensification is accomplished

in two ways. First, the distance between the beats may be expanded or

compressed by tempo change or, more subtly, by meter change. There are

three places where the transcription designates a meter change where the

original does not. In aIl cases it involves a relationship to a climax,

but its position varies. In Orge 138 there is a change from 3/4 to 4/4

giving an expansiveness to the ostinato and effecting a summation of a

series of variations. There is no indication of increased dynamic level

and the triplet background is continued, but the extra beat adds motion

in that the distance between accents {beats one and three} is

psychologically shortened. The meter is cut back to 3/4 in Orge 155

which is preparatory to the final surge at Orge 163 where the pulse is

quickened to sixteenths. There is wide disagreement among editors on the

issue of dynamics. Straube marks Orge 155 Sostenuto "pp~' and Margittay

and Pécsi write Quasi allegro "f". Dupré indica.tes pnly Allegro. The

piano version is Animato at "ff". Although no conclusions can be

reached from such editorializing, the time signature is reliable and

here, as weIl as before, causes a different time relationship between

 121

beats. The signature 3/4 implies less motion and signaIs the beginning

of a c1imactic bui1d-up which will not be thwarted until Orge 204. In

its path and at the moment of greatest dramatic impact is the signature

5/4. It is used only twice and for one measure each time for the

purpose of emphasis (Org. 189, 191).

At this same point Liszt adopts an alternate way of enlarging

the dimension of time: that of adding beats or even whole measures.

The problem of matching measures in the organ and piano versions proves

cumbersome from Pf. 192/0rg. 189 to Pf./Org. 213 because the additional

material is not neatly packaged into complete measures. Chords are

shifted to different beats; single notes and rests, chords and even

extra measures are added. Excitement in the piano created by cascades

of arpeggios up and down the keyboard is replaced in the organ by a

rhythmic complexity made ambiguous by notes tied across bar lines,

assymmetrical meter and variance of phrase grouping. The texture

alternates between punctuating chords and chroma tic eighths which crawl

about aimlessly. In the course of the section, the number of chords

increases from two to seven (but averaging three), and the chromatic

passages are enlarged from one to two measures of 4/4. Comparative

analysis revea1s that Org. 193 and 196 are definite1y added measures,

but whi1e other manipulations are 1ess convenient to pinpoint,

it is possible to determine the number of additiona1 beats used to

state the same harmonie material.

 122

Ex. IV-3D. Relationship of Scores

Organ Piano Added Material in Organ

189 192-93 3 beats

190 193 3 beats
191 194
192 195
193-94 196 (organ is au~entation
of piano) 1 measure
195 197
196 No counterpart 1 measure
197 198 1 beat
198-99 199 6 beats
200 199-200
201 200
202-03 201 5 beats
203 201
204-06 202 2 measures
207-08 203 1 measure
209-11 204 2 measures
212 205 beat l , 2 2 beats
213 205 beat 3, 4 2 beats
214 206 beat 1 3 beats
No counterpart 206-13
215-17 214-16

We may suumise, then, that the organ expands the dimension of tirne to

compensate for the piano's exploitation of rapid passage work.

There are a1so places where the piano "adds" notes and

measures: that is, materia1 which has no counterpart in the transcription.

Often these consist of minor interpolations to avoid abrupt changes. For

instance, in Pf. 166 added notes connect an ostinato statement to its

repetition, a practice which recurs frequently to give continuity to the

variations (see Ex. IV-6, Pf. 164-67). The transition leading to Lento

(Pf. 217/0rg. 218) contains rnateria1 (Pf. 206-13) which has no

counterpart in the transcription. Because Pf. 202-05 are transcribed in

augmentation, the entire transitiona1 section occupies the same measure

of space but the effect of the piano is of more pro10nged reduction in

 123

rhythmic activity. A similar case is near Pf. 281 where three measures,

unaccountable in the organ, enlarge a passage which is to rise to a

new height.

The pacing of rhythmic activity is a factor which contributes

to, in the smaller sense, the creation of a climax or, in the overall

design, the ever-increasing momentum responsible for sustaining interest

in the work. Each instrument attacks the problem of rhythmic pacing

differently in order to compensate for the extremes of sustaining power.

The piano, because of its immediate decay, cannot afford to indulge in

prolonged durations over a wide time span. Although it would have a

negative effect on motion anywhere in the piece, such a situation at the

beginning could be debilitating to the long-range rhythmic drive of the

work, possibly even excluding the opportunity of recovery. Therefore,

composers are practically compelled to either begin a work with a

moderate level of rhythmic activity,. or abandon the longer durations

fairly early in the work, and freely accelerate to the most rapid note

values, limited only by the technical mastery of the performer or the

imagination of the composer. If such a passage would be transferred to

the o~gan unchanged, regardless of the performer's capabilities, the

music would be entangled in reverberation and the goal of clarity would

be a property of the score rather than the performance. The problem

then is: how does a composer energize organ music without sacrificing

its comprehensibility?

The solution which is often responsible for the impact of a

composition is obvious to state, but aesthetically is the most illusive

to put into practice. For the organ, the composer may figuratively bask

in slow-paced tone colorings, rhythms which are reduced to the most static
 124

level. Such exaggerated prolongations of duration are no threat to the

sustaining power of the instrument. But the graduaI acceleration of

rhythmic units poses a very rea1 dilemma for the organ. The astute

composer knows that the rapid, comp1ex rhythms of the piano are beyond

the realm of the organ and therefore, compensating for this limitation,

must pace the increase of activity over a time span which is longer at

the organ than the piano. Liszt was cognizant of these limitations and

restructured the transcription according1y.

Ex. IV-31. Prevai1ing Rhythmic Division of the Quarter

Piano Organ

mm. 1-95 n nntl. 1-92 n

96-125 .rn
\..V
95-154 m ~.

126-66 .f.ffi 155-62 J1

167-81 fjJ J)1 163-82 ffjj
182-91 fff.J 183-202 n
192-202 J]JjjJl]jj 203-17 J
203-12 Jl 218-47 n
213-16 J 248-99 J
217-314 n 300-19 .fJjJ
315-23 .\ 320-35 j

324-67 n 336-74 n
 125

Several observations shou1d be made concerning this table. First, the

pacing of activity implies a slightly different structure in each

instrument. The piano version is divisible into two sections, mm. 1-202

and mm. 203-367, and the organ into three, mm. 1-182, mm. 183-319 and

mm. 320-74. Second, there is a much greater activity in the piano and

the rhythms peak at a much faster 1evel than the organ. Third, the

drive toward the thirty-second note units occupies 202 measures, whereas

the only comparable section in the organ, where the note values are

progressive and the drive is unrelenting, covers less space, the opening

182 measures of the work. Fourth, the progression of eighths-quarters­

sixteenths in the organ should raise sorne questions, for there is never

a comparable jump of rhythmic units in the piano. Since the organ

composer is denied the maximum leve1 of movement that the piano may

enjoy, he must give the illusion of greater motion than is actually

present by discarding progressive acceleration in favor of abrupt

changes of note values. Thus, in Pf. 247/0rg. 248 Liszt reduces the

motion of the organ from eighths to quarters and marks tranquillo,

whereas the piano maintains eighth-note movement in quasi allegro

moderato. This technique is similarly applied at Orge 155 where the

motion is reduced before it is accelerated. Finally, the piano may

react more liberally to this whole issue of rhythmic pacing for it is

bolstered by a full battery of figurational patterns. The table shows

that sixteenth notes are introduced already in Pf. 125 while the triplet

rhythm is continued in the organ for 33 measures more. Consequently

this section, Pf. l25-57/0rg. 122-54 offers more elaborate treatment of

figuration in the piano than the organ, and a1though the dynamic ·leve1

remains near piano, the piano carries a more dramatic raIe. None of the
 126

figuration is transferred to the organ; where change is demanded, Liszt

may shift register, add counterpoint, alter the texture or change the

meter.

Ex. IV-32. Pf. p. 6, mm. 137-42; Org. p. 33, mm. 134-39.

The measurement of rhythmic activity can also be reliable when

taken at similar junctures in the work. A comparison of cadences and

their progressive treatment may shed 1ight on the pacing of rhythmic

motion. In general, one expects that cadences will become more active

as the work progresses and that was the finding he're. In the piano

score, trills decorate the cadences which occur early in the work, but

later, at climactic points, their inclusion is negligible. The organ,

 127

on the other hand, defers the use of trills until later, for in

comparison ta the piano, their impact is much stronger. Org. 15 and 34

discard the piano trills, but later in Pf. 110/Org. 107 a trill is

added ta the transcription ta accentuate the second beat.

Ex. IV-33. Pf. p. 5, mm. 110-11; Org. p. 32, mm. 107-08.

Those cadences in the organ which are exclusive of trills still show a

similar increase of intensity, but the techniques vary. For instance,

in the section Pf. 34-71/0rg. 32-68 three cadences are changed slightly

in the transcription ta effect a graduaI strengthening. In the first,

the organ cuts the density of the piano through the elimination of an

inner voiee used in the le ft hand.

Ex. IV-34. Pf. p. 2, mm. 37-38; Org. p. 29, mm. 35-36.

 128
A few measures later a countermelody is added to the left hand.

Ex. IV-35. Pf. p. 3, mm. 57-59; Orge p. 30, mm. 54-56.

And still later, the melodic contour is altered to increase emphasis on

the leading tone.

Ex. IV-36. Pf. p. 3, mm. 69-71; Orge p. 30, mm. 66-68.

The last area for discussion regarding rhythmic organization

involves the rhythmic structure of the ostinato. Although both the

piano and organ retain the agogic stress of the second beat from the Bach
 129

mode1, the organ appears to increase the weight as the work progresses.

In the opening variations, the treatment of the ostinato is simi1ar

although there are sorne trivial instances where the organ appears to

lessen the importance of the second beat. For example, in Pf. 32/0rg. 30,

the piano repeats the alto Bb , whereas the organ sustains the inner voice

throughout the measure permitting no opportunity, even in performance,

to emphasize the second beat. 7 Likewise, in the next organ example,

the accent on the second beat produced by the lower voices is

practically neutralized by the syncopated soprano line (see Ex. IV-lB).

Since the piano is without syncopation here, so the beat is projected

straightforward1y. Granted, these examp1es are of 1itt1e consequence by

themselves, but when viewed in relation to the entire transformation,

the uncommitted rhythm thus cited is an important point of departure.

As the work continues the organ reverses the above procedure and, in

comparison with the piano, adds more emphasis to the second beat.

Beginning in Orge 60, the thrust of the second beat is gradual1y

intensified to the end with ever broader gestures. The methods used to

accomplish this progressive intensification are especially noteworthy.

In Pf. 67/0rg. 64 the accent is achieved through an articulation in the

left hand which is precisely notated: J. 'r' ~ l J. ~ 1e+c.. The

piano, on the other hand, has only repeated eighth notes. At Pf. 106/

Orge 103 the left hand of the organ is raised one octave on the second

beat diminishing the gap between the hands and strengthening the

cadence.

71nner voice is Bb in Straube and Dupr~, and G in Margittay.

 130

Ex. IV-37. Pf. pp. 4-5, mm. 105-07; Orge p. 32, mm. 102-04.

A simi1ar shift of register occurs on beat two in Orge 107, but this

time a tri11 is added (see Ex. IV-33). A rest in the pedal on the

first beat of Orge 91 accentua tes not on1y the parts, the note C and

the second beat, but the cadence as a whole (see Ex. IV-S, Pf. 94-95/

Orge 91-92). Finally, in Orge 288 the manuals figuratively "explode"

on beat two after a two-measure pedal solo (see Ex. IV-28). Straube

adds an accent to insure what was already obvious in the construction

of the work.

The fourth and final aspect of discussion pertains ta the

arrangement of the chorale as the conclusion of both versions and as an

instrumental setting of a vocal idiom. Contrary to its vocal model, the

density of texture is never consistent, and the number of voices

usually increases at cadences. On the whole, the spacing is wider in

the piano than the organ, and the trills, used only in the piano, are

included at three cadences. More tempo changes are indicated in the

piano score which drives progressively faster ta the end. In the editions
 131
~

of Straube and Dupre, the organ reverses the piano's final surge by

gradua11y slowing to the end (Maestoso, Grave). Margittay and Pecsi

include an a tempo in Org. 365.

The pedal is sounded at first only in alternate phrases and

more doubling of voices occurs here than in the preceding variations.

By Org. 363 the texture is extremely thick, three voices in the left

hand in very low register. For the first time loyalty to the original

piano version seems to be more of a concern and in Org. 365 eighth-note

movement in the bass is unfortunately obscured by the density above.

Any feeling of accent is obliterated by a lack of rests and an addition

of ties over the barline. The conclusion is dramatized in the organ by

the sustaining of a quantity of sound; the piano, on the other hand,

must balance the weight of an entire work through the addition of

Pf. 358-62 and Pf. 365-67. This is the only time when the piano employs

an extension of time to compensate for a deficiency of dynamic power.

Surveying both works from a more distant vantage point, it is

evident that the character of the transcription is more reserVed than

that of the piano. The piano variations bespeak an improvisa tory manner

which lends a spontaneity to the work as a who le. The die is cast in

the first fifteen measures where the long-short rhythm, established in

the course of seven measures, is severed by an extended trill on G

which prepares the ensuing chromatic cadenza-like flourish. In the

transcription both the tril1 and the cadenza are de1eted and thus

estab1ish a more constrained mood from the start.

 132

Ex. IV-38. Pf. p. 1, mm. 1-18; Orge p. 28, mm. 1-16.

"1 12~
I;I~ --

Lento t J- 63)

~~~~--~~~
1~j<I~

ritrnuto

di - mi - "" • ~".do

Although the piano variations do not indulge in free-fantasy

style, a less-ordered passage is used once again, now immediate1y

preceding the chorale (see Ex. IV-7). It is notated without meter and

marked non presto. The organ, on the other hand, 'retains the general
 133

contour and some of the pitches, but more significantly, groups them in

measures of 3/4 meter. The effect is changed even though Dupr~ and

Straube mark ad libitum and Margittay quasi recitativo. Pécsi abstains

from editorial markings here.

The "Weinen, Klagen lt Variations for piano is imbued with a

fluency that is not an integral quality of the organ score. The

specifies have been painstakingly discussed in this chapter, but a brief

recapitulation may be welcome. Besides the freedoms just illustrated,

the entire rhythmic organization of the piano is less compartmentalized.

That is, the drive to the quicker note values is more perpetuaI and the

separation of the variations is often minimized. Moreover, although the

organ adds a notable amount of material with ablatant disregard of

time, the technique is counterproductive. The asymmetrical meters and

temporal enlargements add weight and a degree of immobility sa that where

the piano soars, the organ plods. Likewise, the continuaI transformation

of figurational patterns injects a capricious spirit into a most serious

theme. Not that these criticisms should be taken as wholly negative.

Quite to the contrary, although the character of the transcription is

different, it is not necessarily ineffective. Rather than. molest the

work with a series of adjectives that could be misconstrued, it is more

ta the point ta simply conclude that the organ transcription assumes a

more stately posture than the piano, a posture which perhaps is more

consonant with the profundity of the subject matter.

 CHAPTER V

PRELUDIUM UND FUGE ÜBER DAS THEM! B-A-C-H:

COMPARISON OF ORGAN VERSIONS

A study which probes the most minuscule properties of a

composition in order to ascertain some style definition is constantly

in danger of becoming artificial, especially if the measurements

applied have been too arbitrarily imposed upon the music. A search

for an idiomatic organ or piano style involves not only a comparison

of works by representative composers but also an awareness of the

evolutionary aspects of an individual composer's style in relation to

his total output and the compositional trends for that instrument.

The Preludium und Fuge über das Thema B-A-C-H, hereafter

referred to as the B-A-C-H, provides fertile material in this regard,

for although conceived for organ and completed in 1855, Liszt penned a

revision for organ in 1870 as well as a transcription for piano in 1871.

Unencumbered by the problems of differing thematic materia1 and

unconcerned for physica1 adaptation from piano to organ, the researcher

may proceed direct1y to the basic issue: what techniques did Liszt

consider appropriate for organ and how did his thinking change in his

later years? Certainly the time span of fifteen years between the

versions adds credibility to any observations founded on the premise

of style evolution and the additional consideration of his major organ

134
 135

works in chronological order can he1p to differentiate between those

deviations necessitated by adaptation to a particu1ar instrument and

those which are simply the result of a composer's stylistic

metamorphosis.

Like most composers, Liszt's approach to composition underwent

continual change, and in his later years he became preoccupied with a

cerebral or a more mystical bent. His concept of harmony pushed tonal

limits aside, thereby laying the groundwork for atonality of the early

twentieth century.Concurrent with this, Liszt also manifested two

other compatible tendencies: first, a growing simp~ification of style,

and second, an effort toward conciseness. With this in mind, then, it

is understandable that, of his organ works, his first piece, Ad nos, ad

salutarem undam is also his longest, about ten minutes longer than any of

his subsequent works. Since the B-A-C-H uses thematic material of the

l850's, there is no opportunity to view a change in harmonie style. But

the version of 1870 is definitely influenced by simplification and

brevity. The revision is eighteen measures shorter than the original,

and as shall be illustrated later, the changes in the second version

reflect a more economical treatment of melodic contour, rhythmic

complexity and density of texture.

For the most part the two organ versions are very similar, the

differences being often the deletion or addition of only a single note.

But there are five instances where notable departures do occur. These

are not, in my opinion, the re-creation of new thematic material, but

are rather the recasting of similar content into a new format supposedly
 136

for more effective organ sonority. These places are: 1

a) mm. 13-28/13-34
b) mm. 57-88/63-80
c) tmn. 138-60/130-43
d) mm. 171-88/154-71
e) mm. 216-29/199-214

In the first instance (tmn. 13-28/13-34) both the manua1s and

peda1 are substantia11y changed, and since the subject matter is

essentia11y one idea repeated sequentia11y, it is sufficient to quote

on1y the second statement and its subsequent extension.

Ex. V-1. 1: p. 94, mm. 20-29; II: p. 4, mm. 21-35.

"\'l_ _ _ _ _ __

1The measure numbers of corresponding passages are designated as

fo11ows: 1855 version/1870 version.
 137

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---..J­ "":':"Il
1
2/
l',,!, Z
~.p~~
,s.-' l;.!~~ ~
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= ),.,,--.-r=;:::;:::; ~ ........ - l 1 L
. ~ ... .. 4J
., .. - -
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- .
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fi

._=_.....__.._--- 1-. -j-­

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e­

, 1 1 r' ~ r-­

...==-­ . . . ~ --~
f!.t~ f! of!:. fIL ',~--~-~~f--
t'O'

{
~ .. bo _ _ _ _- - ­
i
------j

Liszt rewrites the pedal solo to reduce the range from an interval of

an eleventh to a diminished fifth. To compensate for the absence of

height, he expands the time allotted to the pedal solo by lengthening

the note values and adding a measure. The changes appear to carry no

improvement, and by comparison to the original, the revision threatens

an irreconcilable banality. But the fears are short-sighted. Although

the content of the original pedal was momentarily more attractive, the

relationship of those measures to the entire piece was logically less

defensible. Undoubtedly, the wide contour was much too excessive for

its early positioning in the piece. Not only did its restructuring

into a narrower scope reserve the power of the pedal for more weighty

passages, but its shape and rhythmic uniformity were more c10se1y allied

with the introductory measures.

 138

Such modifications are reminiscent of similar tac tics in the

"Weinen, Klagen" Variations, where in transcribing the broad contour of

the piano version, the organ reduces the angle of ascent and supplements

the anemic me10dic 1ine with an e1ongation of time (see p. 100).

Without question, this pedal passage is a product of the fifties.

Liszt's comprehension of the peda1 as a me10dic unit was a1ready evident

in Ad nos, and the materia1 used here is definite1y an extension of that

attitude. The me10dic f10urish and rhythmic interest was to be

restrained in 1ater compositions, and thus the peda1work of the 1870

revision was destined ~o become less aggressive than its predecessor.

Curious1y, as the peda1 retires to a 1ess co1orfu1 status, it attains a

certain degree of independence, for in the first version Liszt did not

entrust the bass to the feet a10ne but reinforced the 1ine with a doub1ing

by the 1eft hand. The manua1s are 1ikewise revised toward greater

simplification. Syncopation is discarded and harmonic progression

detours over diminished and augmented triads to the extent that four

additional measures are required to state the substance of the original.

Considering that Liszt cut materia1 severa1 times over, the act of

adding materia1 in the revision is hard1y a spontaneous compositiona1

.alternative to an old piece. Here the subservience of rhythmic

comp1exity to chromatic harmony prescribes the change.

Besides the six measures mentioned above, the only other

addition is mm. 213-14 where the B-A-C-H figure in the peda1 is repeated

an additional time. In the original the figure B-A*-C*-B appears three

times and is matched by a tripartite statement on E-D*-F*-E. In the

 139

second version the obvious para11e1ism is negated, and the second

figure appears four times, probab1y for purposes of emphasis.

The work is first abbreviated in a major way in mm. 57-88/63-80

where the bridge to the fugue is less graduaI but at the same time more

dramatic. In the first version Liszt proceeds from sixteenth-note

movement to triplets (in pedal solo), to eighths and finally to

fortissimo chords over a pedal of even quarter notes. Dynamic level is

reduced and the tempo is slowed after a four-beat rest. In the

revis ion the skeleton is retained but the material is reworked in

three respects. First, the rhythmic motion is unwound more suddenly -as

the background pulse changes directly from sixteenths to eighths.

Although the reduction is far from startling, it reflects in a minimal

way Liszt's proclivity to minimize the smooth, uninterrupted flow in

organ composition.

Second, in place of the lengthy pedal solo, a new figuration is

introduced which is built on the B-A-C-H motive in sustained quarter

notes in the bass, as weIl as off-beat eighth-note chords in the manuals.

The curtailment of solo pedalwork as a tendency of his later years has

already been a1luded to in the preceding paragraph and is fully

evidenced here. The clashing of pedal material is not related to a loss

in thematic content or melodic character, but rather in a loss of sheer

space ta the solo position. In fact, the pedal has little ta say here

because the sum total of its input is a three-fold statement of the

idea below.
 140

Ex. V-2. First ver on, p. 97, mm. 61-62.

Rather than waste the resource of the pedal with such meanderings,

Liszt withheld solo pedal for points of climax or extensions of the

lower manual range (see Ex. V-3).

Finally, at the climax, there is an abrupt cessation of movement

and the B-A-C-H motive, fully chorded in each hand, is stated one time

only at its original pitch level. Truly, it is a moment of inspiration.

By comparison, the original lacked direction and power, for each idea

attached itself too comfortably to the preceding one. As a result, the

climax passed by unnoticed and the chordal summation of the B-A-C-H

figure, wedged in the midst of undistinguished material, remained

impotent. The success of the revision is due to Liszt's restoration of

the element of surprise: that is, the wreckless shift from eighth to

dotted-half notes and his awareness of the virtues of succinctness.

The next radical departure, in terms of rhythm, occurs in

mm. 171-88/154-72. The original version shifts between eighth-,

quarter- and half-note movement with dramatic interest heightened by

contrasts in alternation between unison and chordal texture, changes of

register and accents by short, unmeasured trills. AlI this· is set aside

in favor of a monochromatic treatment where sixteenth-note movement

persists throughout as measured trills in both hands, and the binding

agent of long notes is now the role of the pedale Although four

measures are trimmed here, two measures are added to the ensuing
 141

transitional passage in which the free trill spins into a single melodic

line in measured triplets followed by two pedal statements of B-A-C-H in

quarters.

Ex. V-3. 1: pp. 105-06, mm. 171-88; II: pp. 13-14, mm. 154-72.

., J ~J tJ ~
_.w=::::t:
, 1 1 If'

!".---
1
•
.,.­
1
1
-- ----....

,,-' .J J t J .)
114 ~. ",lit. II- II- .."'f"2­ ..4 ~ ". Il
;=:::::JI~::~
". ".

--- ..­
~'!*

, .'t..5 .,.;."­ ~.
, ,,-,-­ ~ 1
CIl 1 1 '" "'0 '" *0
e"st.
~ 1
~
1 1

....----.,;JI"-1 ".

""---"
".

~.
.~~-
~ 1
•• ":~-:-~.
.:", ___
:p. :~
",
~~
Ir

- ._à:~~-'-'l'--"~~~;
--..:::::::::;:. • VI_
.

Il.
--;-
,..!
..~---",.,..)ô4

f,.
".
1­---...;;;;;:;.
".

~1E=$.:l~-
1 .- . 1.1

molto 8ceel. rit.

180
~ ..J J!~-Li:J
.~~:,.~ ~~.:=
II
1\ ..
. -..,--~~~: ""--.-'

~ ~~=~~= ­ ~~,~~- :.;, ~l: -~

1-\(;
<II
....:
~

•
_ 1
-fV ~~';' w==':l :":> .. :~
.. -
'1

: "
~~
0_
- 1 1
 142

IrlJ10

~:~~" ..~ ,.f!fI •• f! .... U" "'''f~ ~

-
1t.""''''''·,II.t,f!..L'''1I..~ .tt.~~ttltft.p. ~
'-~H"
-
-~.

... r:;;;­
10 .. Il 1
.,
el ft '--~---
\_ q---"r l' " 1--1 j!~V -fl~

~ .. ..
1

/61 --
~~1-:4iI'
ti'2::
'"
~. Il
- n 10".
-
./
.....
-~
-
-
't;."

f:\
A Il Il f 1
~

.~::f~~
t't'­
el
--...:...... ~C~~
~;J~-L ~ =f
i''""-----;f:
~-I~~·
f:\

-
~.I.

~ .. ! I - - - ,;; -c. .. - .... " .... ... ---..........

---­ "..
....... ~

~
.. "'3
.,
- -i/I .. -
~, ..
-­ -
1
l'
110
A Il !

1
- 1
-
On the surface it appears that Liszt is reversing his preference for

abrupt contrasts by replacing the textural contrasts of the original for

more consistent rhythmic background in the revision. But appearances

are misleading. While varying the texture, Liszt slows the background

pulse to quarters. However, the deceleration is in notation only,

because at the same time he indicates molto accelerando bridging

unobtrusively into the next Presto. Thus, the printed page appears

more dramatic than its actual performance. The 1870 revision behaves

quite the opposite. In spite of all the uniformity of rhythm and the
 143

transitional passage of mm. 167-72, the sections are more clearly

delineated. The fermatas in m. 166 secure this point as weIl as the

pure rhythmic deceleration in mm. 170-72 without the pollution of an

accelerando. Liszt judiciously delays this marking for mm. 173-74,

forestalling any confusion over the formaI divisions.

In the Allegro section following the fugue (mm. 138-60/130-42)

multiple measures are cut and figuration is reworked. Where in the

l850's Liszt freely employed octaves for dynamic intensity, by the

l860's he turned to other means for accumulating sonority. As in the

'Veinen, Klagen" Variations, octave passages in the piano were rewritten

to sixths and thirds for the organ, so here, in the 1870 version,

cascades of scales in octaves are rewritten again to sixths. Most

noticeable here but also typical of the entire work is the respacing of

the vertical sonorities. Chords in the right hand are generally thinned

in the revis ion, sometimes with the deletion of only one note, and

chords in the left hand are moved to a higher position with added

density. For the most part, the pedal is lowered an octave to improve

the balance with manual upperwork, and octaves are simplified to single

notes.

The creation of accent in organ music is among the most

perplexing problems confronting composers and here, in the Allegro

section, we have ample evidence that Liszt wrestled considerably with

this problem. He recognized that added stress could be implied on a

given sonority if a certain degree of silence immediately preceded it,

and it was the duration of that silence that became the object of

Liszt's revision. In the first version, mm. 138-42 and mm. 149-52 are

rhythmically identical with sixteenth figurations abruptly silenced by a

 144

quarter rest in both manua1s and peda1, thereby creating accent on beat

two in each measure.

Ex. V-4. 1: p. 102, mm. 138-39.

Pedal +}r 1~ r
In other places, the first beat is filled in with four sixteenths

giving not on1y continuaI motion but, in some measures, sudden shifts

of register as weIl (see Ex. V-5).

In the 1870 version prolonged silence on beat one is avoided

either by wholesale elimination of those measures with quarter rests or

by revision of the rhythmic patterns. Measures where sixteenths are

superseded by a sudden change of register are reworked as be10w.

Ex. V-5. 1: p. 103, mm. 147-49; II: p. Il, mm. 135-37.

 145

This not on1y a11eviates the difficu1ty of instant shift of hand

position up two octaves, but a1so strengthens the impact of beat two.

Perhaps in the fifteen-year interim Liszt acquired a greater

conscience in adhering more close1y to the material borrowed, or at

least in incorporating it into his music with the least amount of

adulteration. A responsibility to the B-A-C-H figure is visible in

three instances where the most minimal change clarifies the germinal

motive and brings it to the forefront. Measure 58/64, discussed

ear1ier, requires the most elaborate revision, but witness also the

lesser modification in m. 289/276 where two-note s1urs are extended to

four-note slurs. 2

Ex. V-6. 1: p. 112, mm. 289-93; II: p. 20, mm. 276-80.

289
t. IlL

~.

II/

:
1

•
-ct_ r--:;J. ..­ J=Fr=f:--'-J-J=S(==~-l..
~

~~
p~;.t.--.--t. ~ ~

14 ~
__
-
--f
-31_,­
1
:1· - =..t -

Zon the subject of phrasing, editions proffer nurnerous

alternatives to the perforrner. Straube draws a slur over mm. 179-80
in toto, whereas Pècsi does not slur those measures at all. Dupré
refrains from slurring anywhere in this quotation. The argument then
regarding the change from two- to four-note slurs is operative best in
reference to the B5_A-C-B~ figure where Margittay, P~csi and Straube
agree.
 146

See a1so mm. 268-69/253-56 where a sizeab1e segment is rewritten to

underscore the B-A-C-H motive.

Ex. V-7. 1: p. 111, mm. 268-72; II: p. 19, mm. 253-59.

rilenuto ntnho

r.1tcJltando ~~lunga
" il. - f i : ­ f!:':
.• c~
\~=::i - ~
• _1fJ .~ ......-_...J ~ .. tJ bu
~'-----" ..:!' 1 1

<

-lm
~

r­ ..-­ - ..­ - ~

1
#:::::::J'fi
~1f:3.= r=
"­
~: I:Îi
IIIT/Kil

-- -.
:.t---­
"'---+
~J l
~~
-

A1though the figure was not obscure in the original, the wider shift of

register and the uniform rhythm in both hands set apart by a prepara tory

rest further strengthens the dominance of the motive. Once again, Liszt

exhibits disdain for smooth1y joined units, and revises for clearer

separation of ideas.

One other adjusbment re1ated to the B-A-C-H figure recurs

severa1 times in the section mm. 216-29/199-214. It invo1ves the change

of only one note which does not affect the harmony but redesigns the

me1odic' contour.
 147

Ex. V-8. I: pp. 107-08, mm. 217-20; II: p. 16, mm. 200-03.

pom a poco aee~rer.ndo

In the preceding examp1e the bass line of the manua1 chords fo1lows

the contour ..........

...........
."",... . the second version, on the other hand, is

altered to ... ~"•

.". , the inversion of the B-A-C-H motive.

Whereas the original uses the same contour in a consistent fashion, the

revision does note It vacilla tes between the duplication of the original

and the repetition of the B-A-C-H inversion. Of course, reasons for the

change are debatable but two observations emerge as likely contenders.

First, the outer voices in similar motion (m. 200) lighten the slur,

a welcome alternative to a chain of two-note slurs which are designed

most1y in contrary motion. And second, the B-A-C-H motive, in inversion

in the left hand, establishes a compelling dialogue with the original

motive in the pedale It is unlikely that Liszt, in incorporating the

B-A-C-H inversion, was showing undue reverence for the old mas ter or even
 148

excessive concern over thematic unification. More than likely, he was

taking advantage of the opportunity to enrich the movement of lines

with similar as weIl as contrary and oblique motion. The idea was a

perceptive one, for the oft-repeated figure was in dire want of

different flavorings.

The rationale for revision is, in the final analysis, only the

province of the composer for he alone knows the reasons for change.

It may be argued that Liszt's primary objective in rewriting the

B-A-C-H in 1870 was to make the work more accessible to the technical

equipment of the average organist, especially since he exhibited such a

concern in supplying later an ossia of mm. 130-60, a simplification of

the revision. When evaluating the technical demands of the entire 1870

version, this effort seems unnecessary. The capability level required

for the two versions does not seem to be that different either, since

the more taxing places in the fugue remain untouched in revision. 3 It

is my opinion that the revision was motivated by a reconsideration of

earlier musical judgments, rather than a concern for creating a

marketable product.

~argittay, Organ Works, II, 1.

 CHAPTER VI

..
PRELUDIUM UND FUGE UBER DAS THEMA B-A-C-H:

COMPARISON OF 1870 ORGAN VERSION AND 1871 PIANO TRANSCRIPTION

The Preludium und Fuge über das Thema B-A-C-H, again to be

abbreviated in this chapter as the B-A-C-H, may be considered Liszt's

best-known organ work, anticipating the harmonic evolution of the late

nineteenth century. Although originally written for the inauguration

of the organ in the Cathedral at Merseburg in 1855, it was not performed

until 1856 by Alexander Winterberger, to whom the piece is dedicated.

The comparison here is based on the second version of 1870, the customary

performance edition, and the piano transcription of 1871. Although

Liszt entitles the organ piece, "Preludium," and the piano transcription,

"Fantaisie," the terms are interchangeable here. Both designate a piece

which is the direct product of a composer's impulse--an episodic

construction. The historical leanings are evident in two characteristics:

first, the use of the B-A-C-H motive, a theme which has been used

frequently by composers from Bach to the twentieth century, and second,

the èoupling of two genres, a free-style piece followed by a fugue.

However, the Liszt title is misleading and the two-part division,

typical of the Baroque, is not to be relayed into the Romantic era

through this work. As Margittay states in the notes preceding the

second organ version:

149
 150

Instead of the actual title of prelude and fugue, the

composition might rather be called a fantasia; the fugue
placed in the middle of the fantasia is merely one of the
episodes of the work and could perhaps more aptly be
termed fugato. Accordingly, in performing the composition,
the usual two-movement registration does not seem an
appropriate choice for the organist; instead kaleidoscopical
changes of tonecolours seem more justified, to enhance the
mosaiclike structure of the work. 1

The direction of transcription is opposite to the "Weinen,

Klagen" Variations. Here the organ possesses the original material and

the conversion to piano poses very different problems. In surveying

the areas of revision in the B-A-C-H, one is impressed by an absence of

small-scale alterations, like the change of only a single note, which

was so prevalent in the Variations, and a tendency toward more wholesale

revision of large sections. What motivated Liszt to transform his

method of trariscription? Was it prompted by the direction of

transcription from organ to piano, by the accommodation of differing

forms (Variations and Fantasy), or was it simply the product of artistic

maturity? The question, although not easily resolved, is highly

pertinent to the discussion of compositional techniques for piano and

organ, because it determines the extent to which the instrumental medium

influenced the adaptation of material. Of the three possibilities, the

need to appease the difference of forro seems the most plausible. Since

both variation and fantasy structures presuppose a certain quantity of

spontaneous inventiveness coupled with a sense of direction in the

overall structure, it is unlikely that transcriptional techniques of such

similar forms woulddiffer so dramatically. But the other two conditions

both offer sorne reasonable explanation for such an about-face on the part

of Liszt.

lMargittay, Organ Works, II, 1.

 151

Motivation for a difference in transcriptiona1 practices must

be attributed 1arge1y to the prob1ems of converting organ materia1 to

the piano. To an organist who has frequent1y been required to adapt a

piano accompaniment to the organ, or who has experimented with organ

compositions at the piano, the prob1em is definite1y one-sided.

Somehow the piano adaptation a1ways proves to be the 1east successfu1.

The reasons are se1f-evident. First, the presence of the peda1 can be

troub1esome. If the transcription converts piano materia1 to the organ,

the pedai can double the bass a1ready there or out1ine the bass line

imp1ied by the 1eft hand figuration. A1though this may not be the most

imaginative peda1 part, the composition wou1d pass as acceptable organ

music. When facing the prob1em from the other direction, that is,

transferring organ materia1 to the piano, the process is more demanding.

Especia11y if the original peda1 1ine is independent of the 1eft hand,

there may be three different content areas: le ft hand, right hand, and

peda1. If the 1eft hand adopts the pedai materia1, the right hand must

play both hands of the original organ score, a physica1 impossibi1ity.

Either one area is omitted or the fftranscriber" sets about recomposing

the piece. If, in another instance, the peda1 part is not independent

so that it is physica1ly possible for the hands to absorb all the

original organ material, the composition will be effective on the piano

only if the character of the piece is not dependent upon nondecaying

sound. Too often, however, organ pieces, whose materia1 is contained

within the hands, are of a more introspective nature, and when

transferred to the piano, suffer from the percussive qua1ity of the

instrument. More than 1ike1y, a 1istener will be convinced that a piano

transcription of an organ piece is idiomatic to its new instrument on1y

 152

if the work has been substantia11y reconstructed to cope with the

difference in range, intensity 1eve1 and sustaining qua1ities.

Of course we cannot overlook the fact that Liszt's compositional

style changed as the years passed. A paper which draws its substance

from three pieces written and revised in three different decades cannot

afford to bypass any consideration of style evolution. Insofar as the

approach to transcription differs between the Variations and the B-A-C-H,

the analyst is tempted to assume that this is the result of a

compositional change between the l860's and l870's. Needless to say,

the point is insupportable. Although both pieces are transcriptions

establ~shing common ground for the analyst, nevertheless these pieces

provide an unreliab1e basis of comparison because of the difference in

direction of transcription. To be sure the problem of piano to organ

versus organ to piano beclouds the issue. In order to secure an

indestructible theory of stylistic change, similar matter should be

compared. Since Liszt did not transcribe for organ any other weighty

piano composition, the analyst is obliged to turn instead to his piano

transcriptions of several organ preludes and fugues by Bach. These

arrangements, although few in number, are based on the most mature organ

works of Bach and thus provide the substantial content needed for

comparison. Liszt labored on a group of six preludes and fugues between

1842 and 1850, and later, according to the Searle listing, sometime

before 1872, transcribed the Fantasy and Fugue in G minore It is

astonishing how different the two endeavors were. The first batch

embodies the most literaI approach to transcription. Even wheu the

pedal is sustaining long pedal notes and the hands are occupied with

toccata-like figuration, the piano version is able to sound the low pedal
 153

tones with only the momentary hesitation for an arpeggio. The integrity

of the fugue is upheld; no part is sacrificed, although when the left

hand carries the original pedal line in octaves, the right hand is

unmercifully burdened. Many years later Liszt returned to the Bach

works, but this time with an entirely different conscience. Rather

than adhere staunchly to the specific notation of Bach, Liszt sought to

recapture the strength and drama of the work. Of course, he did not

rewrite the piece, but he lavishly embellished the lines without

obliterating Bach's thematic material. A similar situation presents

itself in the Variations and the B-A-C-H, and by means of the evidence

of the Bach pieces, it is conclusive that Liszt did alter his philosophy

toward piano transcriptions of organ works.

The piano transcription of the B-A-C-H is twenty-two measures

longer than the organ version of 1870, an increase which should raise

some questions. Inherent in the comparison of original score with

transcription is the factor that Liszt was first a pianiste Perhaps

Liszt was after all more spontaneously inventive in piano composition

and thus conceived more compositional alternatives for the B-A-C-H the

second time around. This supposition can be validated only in a measure­

by-measure comparison of the two to determine in what place and for what

reason the piano transcription grew. Because of the major reconstruction

of someareas, the matching of individual measures is impossible. But

the investigation can be pursued with equal reliability by locating

positive guideposts in both versions and comparing the number of measures

used to reach them. The following comparative chart shows only matching

, sections where there was a difference in time spent. The gaps between,

where measure numbers are missing, constitute those sections in which the
 154

two versions correspond exact1y in number of measures, not necessari1y

literaI content, and thus are irre1evant to the question.

Ex. VI-1. Chart of Additiona1 Measures in Piano Transcription

(+ means number of measures added to piano;

- means number of measures added to organ)

Organ Piano Variance

mm. 6-7 mm. 6-9 +2

13-29 15-23 -8

41-54 35-51 +3

64-72 61-80 +11

73-75 81-85 +2

76-80 86-92 +2

130-43 142-64 +9

154-60 175-80 -1

161-72 181-91 -1

No counterpart 215 +1

200-14 220-27 -7

243-56 256-74 +5

289-92 307-14 +4

Total 22 measures

Disregarding the minor addition of one or two measures, the

number of bu1k increases arouses a curiosity whether Liszt did indeed

a110w his improvisationa1 talents to overtake his rational sense, going

on creative rampages. Such is not the case. The inflation of piano

materia1 is sole1y for adaptation of one instrument's materia1 to another

and relates to five different reasons for adjustment.

 155

The 1argest increase in the piano score is eleven measures,

positioned at the weightiest climax before the fugue. Although the

quotation is long, it i11uminates the techniques used by Liszt to cope

with the u1timate prob1em of transcription: the translation from organ

to piano of pro1onged sound, fortissimo 1evel and absence of moving

rhythms.

Ex. VI-2. Orge p. 7, mm. 64-72; Pf. pp. 5-6, mm. 61-80.

----­

----­
 156

Certain magnificent moments reveal the true masterstroke of a

genius and Org. 68-71 is an inspired moment for Liszt. The B-A-C-H

figure has been an almost continuaI strand in the fabric of the work, and

not inconspicuously so. But here it stands strong, starkly unadorned-­

the thesis of the movement seemingly heard for the first time. That

Liszt dares to be so simple is the quality which allows the moment to be

monumental.
 157

What a pitY that the piano cannot afford the same technique!

Realizing full well that vaulting sonorities like these must be

buttressed on both sides, Liszt replaces the five measures of the organ

with sixteen measures in the piano. The four B-A-C-H chords are p1aced

somewhat off-center with seven measures of preparatory flourishes. Four

more measures are tacked on after the B-A-C-H statement to pro long the

intensity, substituting for the fennata in the organ version. The

fortissimo leve1 is maintained at the piano by unmercifu1 pounding in

the 10w register or by arpeggiated f1ights over the entire gamut. Under

these conditions the piano just cannot dup1icate the broad1y-paced

chords of the organ. Long durations at fortissimo cannot be transferred

to piano without supporting activity and so these measures mark the

area of greatest extreme in each version--the slowest movement in the

organ and the fastest in the piano.

The next 1argest variance between versions occurs a1so at

fortissimo. Beginning at Orge 130/Pf. 142,2 immediate1y fo110wing the

fugue, nine measures are added at a fortissimo. The difference in

figurationa1 patterns account for the en1argement of the piano.

2Because corresponding sections do not occur simu1taneous1y, the

measure numbers of each version are given, the 1870 organ version
appearing first abbreviated Org., fo110wed by the 1871 piano
transcription abbreviated Pf.
 158

Ex. VI-3. Orge p. 11, mm. 130-32; Pf. p. 10, mm. 142-52.

Allegro [J -IOR)

:.r=~~~~_=1~

Here the organ uses two figures: a descending scale and a triplet

rhythm, each at one-measure intervals. Even though the unit is raised

to F minor, the constant alternation at every measure prevents a lengthy

discourse on the idea, and thirteen measures plus transition proves

 159

sufficient. The piano, on the other hand, paces the a1ternation of

patterns on a broader sca1e. Again two ideas are used, but the first

1asts five measures and the second, descending octaves with a1ternating

hands, 1asts six. This entire unit is repeated again in F minor

fo11owed by a two-measure extension to the next figuration. Thus the

piano is permitted to acce1erate the tempo and give due weight to the

fortissimo without tiring the 1istener from over1y repeated figuration.

To simp1y imitate the one-measure a1ternation practice of the organ

wou1d'resu1t in a confusion from over1y frequent shifts of register. In

addition, because of the inherent limitation of repetition, the 1ength

wou1d have to be curtai1ed too much to be effective for the piano.

In two cases, measures are added to the piano to provide

adequate space to cover the extensive range of the keyboard. Five

measures are added after Orge 243/Pf. 256, quoted next, and three near

Orge 4~/Pf. 35.

Ex. VI-4. Orge pp. 18-19, mm. 243-59; Pf. pp. 16~17, mm. 256-77.

i
~.._- ri'··
II:

l
10....

fF1
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W...:.-.- - , .
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. ' . ." ."
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246
II
~~

l'"
~:~
J
1
-- .-­ -­
ilJ'Ù_

-
--­
~1f---.-.");tïJr.-.. ;;::,,t:;;-..-r__~_fI'Ji_.7-i.~jJ~.!!:-ti.J~.~:'!Jt.!!JI ...... ,J J"J;i..:vr-f'I'...If..r--f'_r~
 160

250 nlleRlando

--~
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~~ __'" .t ~ t" DU

-1'~----'ijI!
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~=r:
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1" 1

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l'j =~ ~ r r r
 161

This examp1e i11ustrates without qualification how the peda1

tri11 is trans1ated to the piano as a1ternating chords progressing from

one end of the keyb~ard to the other. By the way, Orge 243/Pf. 256 are

matching measures. The two and one-ha1f measures of peda1 tri11 with

sustained chords above become three and one-ha1f measures in

transcription, and the four measures of solo peda1 correspond to the

tri110 of the piano.

The second illustration, Org. 41/Pf. 35, is not quoted but the

same princip1e app1ies. The organ covers a distance of two octaves and

the piano near1y three. Because the 1eft hand of the piano fo110ws in

para11e1 motion a sixth be10w, the 'contour is even further exaggerated.

Before reso1ving to Bb (using the B-A-C-H figure) as the organ does, the

piano inserts an extra f10urish across the keyboard, forming an arch

which spans three octaves.

We have a1ready noted that the piano adds materia1 to compensate

for its inabi1ity to sustain sound, and the 1ast four measures of the

transcription are another examp1e of this. Here four measures of

double octaves wend their way via the B-A-C-H figure over two octaves.

Its sole function is to balance the dimension of the work with a

prolonged tonic, formerly accomplished in the organ by the fermata.

The problem of accumulating sufficient intensity to carry the

weight of the work is a major issue in piano transcription and Liszt

coped with it creative1y. Every fortissimo section is fair game for

ana1ysis but since two previous examp1es i1lustrated the figurationa1

alternatives, another is quoted to show a radical change in density

(see Ex. VI-7). Here the sing1e-voiced passage of the organ is

transferred to the piano as six-voiced sonorities, and the freedom of

 162

the toccata-like style is lost, in part, to the weighty vertical

structures. Two measures are added here resulting not only from the

slower rhythmic pace, but also from the need to build maximum power.

Turning the discussion to the material for organ that has no

counterpart in transcription, there are only two areas where significant

variance exists. As might be expected, both involve the use of the

pedale In the original, Orge 17-20 and Orge 25-28 are for solo pedal

and Liszt makes no attempt to rewrite them for piano. He simply skips

the material altogether and continues the sequence without benefit of

the antecedent-consequent dialogue proffered by the manuals and pedal.

Ex. VI-S. Orge pp. 3-4, mm. 13-21; Pf. p. 2, mm. 15-19.
 163
The chromatic octaves in Pf. 18 can hardly be interpreted as a

substitute for the pedal passage. They act only as a connecting link

and do not propose to balance the three preceding measures.

The other instance where organ incurs greater length than the

piano is illustrated next. Since the seven measures are inserted

intermittently in the organ, the entire section is quoted. Comparison

is awkward without matching signposts in each version, so the last two

measures of both the piano and organ are included to verify the return

of the transcription to the original content.

Ex. VI-6. Org. pp. 16-17, mm. 200-16; Pf. pp. 14-15, mm. 220-29.

~ a poco accelerando
 164

Both versions shift register at one-measure intervais and the organ

aiternates textures as weIl. The essence of the section can be reduced

to a B-A-C-H motive first on B, then on E, with several repetitions of

each. While the motivic framework of the versions is identical, the

organ repeats the figure an additional time, picking up three measures

in the B area and four in the E. The variety of figuration assists in

the sustenance of the section, but the weight of the pedai is probably

most responsible for re1ieving the stagnation resulting from excessive

 165

repetition. In addition, the pedal not only darkens the outline of the

motive, but it clarifies the organizational framework of the section.

Since Liszt's compositional alternatives in the transcription

conform to the formal divisions of the work, it was expedient to

change the methodological approach of analysis. Therefore rather than

focus on the musical parameters, as in the Variations, the remaining

discussion of the B-A-C-H will deal with the manner of change in each of

the five sections specified below.

Section A Orge l/Pf. 1

Transition AB Orge 72-80/Pf. 80-92

Section BOrg. 8l/Pf. 93

Transition BC

Section C Orge 130/Pf. 142

Transition CD Orge l67-72/Pf. 186-91

Section D Orge l73/Pf. 192

Transition DE Orge 249-57/Pf. 271-75

Section E Orge 257/Pf. 275

Transitions between the sections are often the subject of major

alteration, although the specifie length of a so-ca1led transition is

sometimes very nebulous. Nevertheless, attention will be given to the

varying role of transitions on each instrument at the close of the

chapter.

In order to insure that the discussion of the sections will be

as compact as possible, two points, general to the piece, should be

attended to first. As was noted in the "Weinen, Klagen" Variations,

Liszt simplifies the notation of chroma tic chords in the transcription

with enharmonie spellings. This observation has little import to the

 166

question under discussion except to suggest once again that Liszt, in

the process of transcription, was not inclined to copy portions of the

original without giving due consideration to the materials used. He

was a composer of integrity who submitted even the most obscure detail

to artistic adjudication.

The issue of voice doubling still remains a less predictable

practice. Considerable variation exists between editions of organ

works, although the Margittay edition provides the more liberal approach,

with doublings judiciously sprinkled in for added sonority. The

function of the left hand is the most variable between the instruments.

When , in the piano version, the left hand must assume thepedal part

often with octave reinforcement, the right hand is assigned the most

demanding task of balancing the bass with the entire thematic material

originally played by two hands on the organ. Spacing is readjusted to

suit the physical demands of the hands so that where the organ may

duplicate the chord of the right hand an octave lower in the left, the

piano version may allot four notes to right hand only.

Organ R.H. Piano R.H.

Œ
L.H~
L.H. F
Œ
Pedal F

Section A

For the most part the thematic material of the transcription is

very similar to the original, there being only three areas of major

alteration within section A. In spite of the ostensible agreement

 167

between versions, each instrument deve10ps in the opening measures a

tota11y different character. Where the piano is preoccupied with

building a momentum even at the outset, the organ bathes itse1f a1most

pagan1y in sound, irreverent of the dimension of time. Not that the

mood is bacchanale; quite to the contrary, one is impressed by the

aggressive yet sta1wart opening, serving as a mighty fanfare to a

very powerfu1 work.

In the first seven measures of the organ the texture changes

abrupt1y from a chorda1 treabment, varying from two to eight voices

accompanied by octave pedal, to a sing1e-voiced toccata-1ike 1ine. In

that sa:me space the dynamic 1eve1 moves from fortissimo through "

a stringendo, then diminuendo to a mezzo-piano. The tempo 1ikewise

undergoes a shift from Allegro Moderato to Adagio and back to Tempo l

via a poco a poco accelerando. The die has been cast so that our ears

will not quick1y forget the f10urish of the introduction.

Ex. VI-7. Orge p. 2, mm. 1-7; Pf. p. 1, mm. 1-9.

 168

Unfortunately the piano cannot bask in prolonged sonority, and thus the

freedom of the work is sacrificed. In the same seven measures a ritard.

replaces the organ Adagio, and the off-beat chords in mm. 4-5 reinforce

the sonority and maintain the eighth-note pulse. What serves in the

organ as a cadenza-like bridge to a new figuration becomes a link of

greater pretentiousness in the piano. In spite of the accelerando, the

regular eighth-note movement and the dense chords create a more

structured atmosphere, replacing the freedom of the organ with more

calculated drama in the piano.

The three areas which demonstrate the widest disagreement between

versions begin at Org. 6/Pf. 6, Org. 41/Pf. 35, and Org. 64/Pf. 61. In

the second and third, the adaptation to piano required a kind of

recomposition where the framework of the original was retained but the

inner content was newly created. Since in all three places the revision

brought about an addition of measures, the subject has been thoroughly

explored in the first part of this chapter. Not included in the three
 169

aforementioned areas, however, is Orge 17 and 25 where each four-measure

peda1 solo is finessed in transcription. Frequently Liszt substitutes

newly-composed material for the pedal; but here, as was discussed

earlier in the chapter, there is no counterpart whatsoever.

Consequently, the rhythmic element of the piano is relegated to a less

imaginative role, that of driving relentlessly to m. 23 with a constant

sixteenth-note pulse. The organ, directing itself to the same goal, is

given more latitude in rhythmic configurations and in the eight-measure

segment, the note values progress in order: sixteenth - eighth ­

quarter - eighth - quarter. The net result of each is contradictory.

Whereas the piano moves with constant pressure, the organ progresses in

a less-ruffled state rhythmically, but, through a change of register

(pedal solo to manual), without losing the necessary momentum. The

character of this section fulfills the expectations of the introduction

in which the organ was programmed to be the freer, yet more aristocratie

protagonist of the two.

Transfer of the pedal line to left hand via octaves is 50

fre.quent, it merits- little discussion, and cultivation of the bass

register through octav~s is the most obvious parallel to the pedal

division of the organ. However, sometimes the piano doubles the bass line

of the manual when no pedal is present and this does warrant attention.

Beginning at Orge 8/Pf. 10 octave doublings reinforce the eighth-note

pulses in each hand of the piano which, although not unusual in itself,

places the left hand an octave lower than the organ, enriching the

sonority and enabling a larger crescendo.

 170
Ex. VI-B. Orge pp. 2-3, mm. 7-13; Pf. pp. 1-2, mm. 9-15.

TelUl»O 1•
., ~ .f ~_. -------_lID

~
l .~
-r-­

(J
 171

A minor change, a1though a very curious one, is Pf. 14 where the order

of the second and third notes of the triplets is "exchanged." For over

five measures the triplets operated in contrary motion, left hand

ascending, right hand descending, and then three beats before the meter

change, the direction is reversed. Apparently this weights the

descending line of the left hand, and with the contrary motion of the

right hand, assures a greater sense of finality to the cadence. The

structure of the piano and organ is so similar here that certainly the

strengthening of the cadence would have been equally beneficial to both

versions. Even though the reversal of direction in the last triplet of

the organ may lead more logically to the next chord, it still remains a

token switch when compared to the piano. At this point the transcription

is a refinement of the original: a compositional alternative with no

relation to the individual demands of piano or organ.

Section B

As was stated earlier, the title gives undue emphasis to the

fugue both in length and substance for it is only one of a series of

episodes. Therefore, it is not surprising that the thematic material is

confined solely to the manuals with the pedal used only twice: in

Orge 99-101 for pedal point, and in Orge 126-29 as a bridge to the next

Allegro. Because of its containment within the reach of the hands and

because imitative technique is universal, not the property of any

instrument or combination of instruments, the material is as suitable for

piano as for organ. The modifications, in all cases but one, are

inconsequential and are noted here to document Liszt's concern for the

detail.
 172

The slurring of the piano edition is in agreement with the

second version of the organ edited by Margittay. Only in Org. 92/Pf. 104

the slurring is omitted in the piano, perhaps an editorial oversight.

In two parallel passages, Orge 103-06/Pf. 115-18 and

Org. l12-l5/Pf. 124-27, the thematic material is duplicated, but to

accentuate the dolente characte~ the left hand range is extended one

octave, requiring an adjustment in spacing and doubling.

Ex. VI-9. Orge p. 9, mm. 103-06; Pf. p. 8, mm. 115-18.

Likewise in Orge 10B-IO/Pf. 120-22 and Orge 117-l9/Pf. 129-31 the piano

and organ editions are identical, but an ossia is supplied for the piano

which replaces polyrhythm arpeggios in three against two with legato

chords in eighths, simpler only in rhythmic demands.

 173

Ex. VI-10. Pf.p. 9, mm. 129-31.

Sometimes the most fascinating grounds for comparison are those

instances where a change is so slight that it near1y passes unnoticed.

Observe Orge l2S/Pf. 137 where on the second beat the sustained E in the

organ is replaced by n# and F# in the piano.

Ex. VI-Il. Org. p. 10, m. 125; Pf. p. 9, m. 137.

Besides adding greater dissonance to the second beat, the nonharmonic G#

in the soprano reso1ves to A, a diminished seventh chord instead of the

1ess poignant minor triad in the organ. There is no question that the

syncopated 1eft hand benefits from the cooperative thrust of the right

hand on this dissonance, but for what reason did Liszt evade the two-fold
 174

accent on the organ? Liszt recognized that the supportive framework of

this bridge passage consisted of a chroma tic 1ine proceeding in contrary

motion between the soprano and bass, and that while an intensification

of dissonance on the second beat would add harmonie tension, this thick,

immovable sonority would pose the danger of obscuring the soprano line,

the life-blood of the transition. The choice was an obvious one.

Immediately following, in Orge l28-29/Pf. 140-41, the

transcription deviates from the original more obviously than in the

other instances cited before.

Ex. VI-12. Orge p. 10, mm. 128-29; Pf. p. 9, mm. 140-41.

These measures conclude the transition to section C and because the

initial chord of the new Allegro is in different positions, that 1s,

the organbegins with a second inversion and the piano with a first

inversion chord, the chromatic preparatory passage in the bass must be

rewritten. Whereas inOrg. 128 the organ abandons the syncopated

chords in the right hand for a square, downbeat rhythm, the piano

extends the syncopation one measure longer to Pf. 141. The additional

chords enable the piano to ri se to a diminished third higher than the

organ, widening the contour of the bridge. Meanwhile the bass retreats

from the prevailing descending line by skipping from A to C once again

 175
to assure a successive chromatic descent to G. The opening of the

subsequent Allegro is dramatized by two varied approaches: the organ,

where the lines are constantly stretched apart, never changing

direction, and the piano, where the right hand overshoots the target

(resolution note). Both piace the moment of greatest stress one beat

before the Allegro.

Organ Piano
l~ 1

~! ~:­
~I ~I
1............. 1"
1
l '30
1
lft. ..... 1'30
Neither contour is particularly idiomatic to their respective instruments,

but if one would exchange the approaches here, the ultimate effect of the

Allegro would be measurably weakened.

Section C

The less-structured sections, as opposed to the Fuga and the

inherent confines of imitation, present a greater need for revision in

transcription. In the piano version the tempo marking is modified to

Allegro con brio and four measures later an Animato is added, specifying

a more spirited interpretation than the organ. Most of the section is

newly composed with a limited number of guideposts, either harmonic,

rhythmic or figurative, that expedite a matching of material.

Although our study focuses on the areas requiring change, there

is one instance where the retention of material is of equal import. The

use of scale passagework is somewhat more restricted on the piano than

the organ in that it confines the performer to a lesser dynamic level.

Far more power can be achieved' through almost any other figuration
 176
(a1ternating octaves, arpeggios), and when a composer needs to increase

the sonority to triple forte proportions, sca1ar materia1 is not the

obvious choice. Thus, Orge 144-53/Pf. 165-74 may be a contradiction to

usua1 practice--sca1e patterns marked sempre ff con molto fuoco.

Ex. VI-13. Orge p. 12, mm. 144-49; Pf. p. Il, mm. 165-70 •

.,..~:~
~~r.:..t--
-~~f

~
- 1

.
.---
~

·;~·lJ1i9=

:
.~~ï; ~
-
i\'~

I~~~~~Wur ;~A"
A

=- =- ~ ! -. \' ­
 177

Certain factors insure the effectiveness of these flourishes even in the

piano: first, they lie in the 10wer-midd1e range of the keyboard, and

second, they are 1imited to two measures in 1ength and occur on1y twice

separated by a contrasting figuration.

Most often, scalar work in the organ is discarded for a tota11y

new figuration. The first dozen measures of section C il1ustrate in a

typical fashion this kind of revision (see Ex. VI-3). The fortissimo

shuts out any possibi1ity that the organ version cou Id be transcribed

successfu11y untouched. The register placement lies too high and the

two-voiced texture is much toothin to create the furor expected.

Therefore, the alternative in transcription exploits the full range in

a fast-moving, breathless manner. Descending step-wise movement is

trans1ated to the piano after a11 as a counterweight to the opening

figuration. Octaves alternating between the hands is the strongest

vehicle for sca1ar motion but.its life-span within the composition

is shorter than the simple scale. A composer may inundate a work with

sca1ar movement without impairing interest, but there is a 10wer

limit to the 1istener's tolerance of alternating octaves. Here in

the Allegro section, Liszt moderates a healthy balance between the

two figurations, creating textura1 interest, power and rhythmic

intensity.

The conclusion, Orge 154-66/Pf. 175-85. is again almost

entire1y new materia1 in transcription.

 178
Ex. VI-14. Org. p. 13, mm. 154-66; Pf. p. 12, mm. 175-85.

J51
~1'~.
~
L."
&---r-~~""".!..-•• q~ ....... -
~=::::::-
>­
.Il f!.1L . . . j""iit/l. (1'.11"'/1. ~ ~e."~,, ./I.~" tl>ltt!.ttt..lte. , ~ 1If!lt r.,.f!'-P-
ttillo
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lIi
,
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-
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 179

The germinal motive, prominent in the bass, is dropped altogether, and

the arpeggiated chords which remain within the octave are replaced by

the broken octaves on G spanning a three-octave range. Maximum

bril1iance is the requisite of the page rea:ized on different terms

by the two instruments. In both cases it ca1ls for an exploitation of

the uppermost range. But for the organ to be bri1liant it must prolong

the notes; for the piano, it must hammer at them hard, and, because of

the immediate decay, often. Thus the organ's chromatic line is

completely dispensable to the piano which values strength over melodic

line.

The transcription renews its relationship with the original in

Orge 160/Pf. 180 where both incorporate diminished-seventh chords

moving in the same direction and at the same pace. But the texture

differs radically. Where the enormous lungs of the organ permit a

three-Ieve1 idea, chords in the 1eft, trill in the right, and a peda1

point, the piano must re1y almost exclusive1y on chords in the right

with octaves (of chord members) in the left. Tri11s are of no use to

the pianist at this dynamic 1eve1, and the peda1 point becomes a weaker

device in transcription. It is integrated into the substance of the

1eft hand for on1y four measures (Pf. 181-84). Perhaps it is irre1evant

to dwe11 at 1ength on enharmonic spe11ings, but it May be noted here

that whi1e the qua1ity of the diminished-seventh chord is maintained,

the construction is para11el on1y in terms of melodic contour, not

pitch names.
 180
Section D

Fortunately, the creative process presses the composer to

continua11y reassess the merits of a particular compositiona1 technique

within a given situation. A case in point is the opening of this

section where Liszt makes extravagant use of octaves in the theme and

accompanying counterpoint. One cannot avoid the comparison of this

instance with other numerous times, as in "Weinen, K1agen" Variations,

where octave doub1ings were painstaking1y reworked to para11e1 sixths.

Since Liszt manifested a simi1ar partiality for fuller sonority in

1870 when he revised the first organ score of the B-A-C-H, we must

therefore conc1ude that octave doub1ings constitute the fundamenta1

materia1 of Org. 175-214.

Ex. VI-15. Org. p. 15, mm. 181-91; Pf. pp. 13-14, mm. 200-10 •

. . ,..
 181

'-'\ -======
;-,~') l.:::'=..J

Two-voiced texture, as in Org. 184-87, is rare in the virtuosic organ

works of Liszt, and l question its effectiveness on even the most

"Romantic," fu11-bodied organs. Apparent1y, this was a point where

Liszt sacrificed the integrity of the instrument for a continuity

of texture.

Chords of pro10nged duration are used discriminative1y in

piano composition, often reserved for sma11er dynamic 1eve1s in the

10wer register of the keyboard. The decay is 1ess swift there than in

the midd1e and upper registers, and composers ration the rich, vibrant

sonority as a valuab1e tone co10r. When the piano disregards such

a convention and does so successfu11y, the ana1yst must take notice.

Beginning at Org. 21S/Pf. 228, ha1f-note chords are periodically

injected into arpeggiated diminished-seventh chords running in

eighths.
 182
Ex. VI-16. Orge p. 17, mm. 215-20; Pf. p. 15, mm. 228-33.

One would expect Liszt to evade this conflict of rhythmic pacing

entirely by rewriting the half notes into a more agitated figuration.

But for the first time in this work, the elongation of durational values

poses no threat to the piano, and the ha1f note lnterpolations are

retained. By the way, the conversion of half note to double-dotted­

quarter and sixteenth-note figure is typica1 in piano transcription.

It does not alter the rhythmic pulse but facilitates an accent on the

main beats as well as affords an opportunity for the left hand to sound
 183

the bass octave and fill in the middle register. For the first time in

the piano version the listener is confronted with an utter disregard for

time, the longer chords marked tenuto and the two measures qualified by

un poco rallentando.

The luxury of minimum rhythmic motion is made even more precious

by the driving momentum which immediately supersedes it. Not that the

piano is never given a respite from perpetuaI motion; slower movement,

as shall be discussed shortly, is often the mode of transitions. But

beginning at Orge 200/Pf. 220 the piano is substantially rewritten in

order to plunge us headl~ng into the half note chords of Orge 2lS/Pf. 228

(see Ex. VI-6). In Orge 200-14 the organ a1ternates two figures, each

only one measure in length, which contrast each other in rhythm,

register and texture. Although the same harmonie progression provides

the framework, the alternation practice is much less apparent in the

transcription, for only the distance of an octave separates one measure

from another. Upon first examination one would expect that no change

would be necessary in transcription since the chords of Orge 200 move

at a sufficiently quick pace to sus tain the momentum, and the abrupt

change of figuration is sometimes more gracious to the piano than the

organ. The decision to forsake maximum contrast for a more uniform

rhythmic treatment reflects the extent to which Liszt valued momentum in ·

piano composition. This criterion being foremost in his mind, Liszt

likewise recognized the need to reduce length where variety was limited

and sliced the corresponding piano section in half. Thus, where the

organ alternates between two ideas for fifteen measures, the piano

drives through on a mono-rhythm for on1y eight measures.

 184

In the transcription the materia1 fo11owing Ex. VI-6, beginning

at Pf. 249, is simi1ar1y acce1erated so that the Maestoso of Pf. 275

looms before us, grossly unprepared. Probably because the piano

version relied so extensively on the calculated pacing of rhythm, these

techniques of surprise tend to figurative1y jolt the listener. While

predictability may create a state of euphoria, it certainly is not the

prescription for a profound work of art. Therefore, viewing section D

in relation to the entire piece, it is obvious that the regularity which

dominated so much of the work was a tool to heighten the dramatic tension

of this section.

The organ is definitely not less powerful at this point, but it

musters strength through more conventional means. Since rhythmic

predictability was never a property of the organ score, the drama of the

conclusion is indebted to the sheer power of the instrument. Thus,

where the organ can "pull out aIl the stops" to overwhelm the listener,

the piano must rely on the expected.

Section E

The content of Pf. 275 to the end is, on the whole, very similar

to the organ. Minor alterations, such as prefacing an accented chord

with an anticipation in Orge 268/Pf. 286, do not obscure the original

material in the least. More to the point, however, is the comparison of

tempo and its influence on the ultimate effect of the conclusion.

Although Liszt crea tes for both instruments a forcefu1 coda, the piano

rushes to the end with a final spurt of energy and the organ gradually

unwinds with continua1ly decreasing note values.

Unfortunately, the tempo markings in the organ version are the

object of much editorial revision, and it is realistic to expect

 185

agreement only in the spirit of the markings, rather than in the

specifie terminology. Tempo specifications beginning Orge 257 of the

three editors are:

Margittay: Maestoso, [a tempo, ritenuto

grave [J =76} cl =66] tJ=661
(257) (260) (283)

Dupré: Maestoso Grave Adagio

( J =60) (J =80) ( J =76)
(257) (260) (283)

Straube: Maestoso Allegro Grave Lento Adagissimo

Moderato + Rit.
(257) (260) (276) (283) (287)

The manuscript and Schuberth edition, sources for the Margittay edition,

and the Pecsi edition give only two directions:

Maestoso, Grave Ritenuto

(257) (283)

Evidently the modern editors, with the exception of Pecsi, assumed that

an increase of tempo was justified in m. 260 and that such a marking was

omitted unintentionally by the composer and early publisher. Adopting

the assurnption as fact, we observe that beginning in rn. 260 the tempo

never reverts to a faster movement, but rather continues in quarter and

half note values with a minimum of ten measures at a slower pace.

Tempo indications in the piano transcription are:

Maestoso Un poco animato Andante Animato
Piano (275) (286) (307) (310)

Organ
Equivalent (257) (268) (289) Added material

By comparing measure numbers of Telated material in the piano and

organ, we may observe two instances of modification. First, and in

sorne ways less conventional to piano style, Liszt not only duplicates

the Maestoso section in transcription, but extends it a full eight

measures further before returning to the more agitated tempo,

 186

Un poco animato. This, however, serves as an effective foil against

the final Animato, a new figuration which has no counterpart in the

original. Obviously the function of this material is two-fold: to

provide a rhythmic momentum to the final chord, and to provide an

emphatic punctuation which, through an extended tonicization on Bb ,

balances both the length and dramatic quality of the work.

Transitional Material

As has been noted several times over, the Lmpact of the organ

version is dependent on the technique of contrast, affected by varied

figuration, tempo, dynamics, rhythm, etc. If this, then, is the

essence of Liszt's organ style here, we may expect that measures which

bridge sections of varying character will have little reason to serve

as cohesive agents. The piano, on the other hand, has avoided

fragmentation at aIl costs, electing a more conservative treatment of

rhythms and a more stable approach to tempo. Where more radical

contrasts were called for, implementation of the change was governed

by controlled gradations rather than abrupt changes. Therefore, with

the exception of section D, the transcription is influenced throughout

by a philosophy of calculated transition to suppress the effect of

change. AlI four transitional passages support this theory but

transition BC, following the Fuga, is especially smooth. Because of

the free treatment of the fugue, the boundaries of BC are debatable

and the material tends to evolve out of itself, progressing from one

idea to another in kaleidoscopic fashion.

At first, transitio~ AB of the piano appears to closely

resemble the organ.

 187

Ex. VI-17. Org. p. 7, mm. 73-80; Pf. p. 6, mm. 81-92.

(.
2'SA ç-o-: -..... ---:~
.-1'.. ­
... ..
-
~ :.-::: ,.t::::;,.

~
1
dim.
~*-)_ ..J;.r - -­
- ----.~-
'-~' .­
ppp
I.A
14~
Il ~
- -

Both begin with a sudàen drop in volume and remain soft throughout;

rhythmic movement is likewise similar. Although both move from chordal

texture to a single-voiced line, the weight of the chords is different.

To offset the sustaining qua1ity of the organ and its re~ated heaviness,

two-part texture is full enough to imply the harmony but not destroy

the contrast to the preceding fortissimo chords. Since this register is-

not the most vibrant on the piano, Liszt must rewrite, not on1y lowering
 188
the range but thickening the hannonies to a fuller, more resonant

qua1ity. As noted ear1ier, this is an instance where Liszt adds

measures in the piano to allow for a more circuitous route in the

cadenza-like passage.

The beginning of the transition between sections C and 0 is

indistinct, but the tempo marking, Piu Animato in Pf. 192, supplies
the logica1 terminal point.

Ex. VI-18. Org. p. 14, mm. 167-72; Pf. p. 13, mm. 186-91.

-J
"...

== -­
110
A " • PD
el

<
1 :
--,
'­

-~
-
- , 1
- .,,----........
..
 189

The function of the transition differs in each instrument. For the

piano, the purpose is to we1d sections C and D together without a

seam, but for the organ, it is to divide them. The technique is

se1f-evident. In the piano, the 1eft hand octaves in eighths, the

vita1izing force of both section C and D, is carried through the

transition without a pause. But the organ spins out the tri11 of

Orge 166 into a series of triplets which 1ead direct1y into the peda1

statement of B-A-C-H. The me10dic contour has fa11en farther than

usua1 in Liszt's works and the pace has been slowed. A1though the

organ can afford to slacken the pace and does so frequent1y, the piano

cannot risk 10sing the impact of section D by 1essening the drive even

here.

Likewise, the organ approaches the c10sing Maestoso by an

equa11y diverse treatment (see Ex. VI-4). The prob1em is to connect

the peda1 tri11 with the pro10nged chords of the Maestoso. Rhythmic

activity is reduced and transition DE is a static, four-part passage in

quarter and ha1f notes. Dynamic markings vary with editions and whi1e

Margittay remains loyal to his sources, Straube free1y·sprink1es in

diminuendo e ra11entando and piano. Understandab1y one must be wary of

excessive editorializing, but on the other hand, Straube has simply

written those indications which wou1d be dictated by the musical judgment

of the performer. Considering the texture and register of the.manua1s,

it wou1d be inconceivab1e that an effective performance of this passage

cou1d be achieved without a reduction in volume. Regard1ess of dynamic

indication, the shift of register and the intensification of the chords

at Maestoso prec1udes any concern of the composer for an unobtrusive

 190

"transition" and once again the drama of the moment is contingent upon

the unexpected.

Transition DE seems shorter in the piano although matching

measures becomes arbitrary at this point. Remembering that section D

concluded with a chordal trill progressing up the keyboard until it

was severed abruptly in the uppermost extremity, the sudden shift of

register to the fortissimo octaves does little to smooth the junction

of the two sections. Because these octaves may sustain the ferocity

of the trillo, the magnanimous air of the Maestoso is hardly

anticipated.

Conclusion

Discussion thus far has relegated Liszt's use of the B-A-C-H

motive almost to the periphery. Its ~mportance in distinguishing

between differing compositional techniques for piano and organ should

not be underest~ated, for the examples, although few in number, do

reflect a difference in attitude on the part of the composer. Liszt's.

fidelity to the B-A-C-H motive was more consistent in the organ, and

when a choice needed to be made, he felt less compunction to drop the

motive in the piano in favor of another· compositional device.

Two examples in particular lend support to this contention.

In the comparison of organ versions several instances were cited in

which Liszt reworked material around the germinating motive. In

Orge 64/Pf. 61 the bass line of the manua1s was rewritten to the

B-A-C-H theme and a new figuration was added above, also conforming to

the motivic contour (see Ex. VI-2). Where adherence to the motive was

an issue demanding revis ion in the organ, the piano seems fickle in
 191

contrast, because the motive not only loses prominence but its entrance

is delayed two measures to Pf. 63.

A similar situation arises in Org. 154-56/ Pf. 175-93 where the

motive, which appears in long notes in the pedal, is absolutely

non-existent in the piano transcription (see Ex. VI-14). The transfer

of pedal material to the piano is a problem not easily resolved and

often it forces the composer to make concessions. However, this is an

exception. In both these cases it is new material which appears in

the transcription, not a remodeling of the original. It is reasonable

to assume that the values which influenced Liszt's compositional

judgment varied between the instruments. Whereas he sought unification

of the organ work through motivic repetition, in the piano work he

finessed the-technique in favor of such factors-as figuration, rhythmic

uniformity, texture, range, etc.

When viewed in historical perspective the Preludium und Fuge

über das Thema B-A-C-H exceeds the artistic merits of an isolated work,

andoccupies a position of relevance to the music of the past and the

music of the future. The germinal motive then is a symbol of the

much larger heritage from which this work draws: the opulent

chromaticism of the Baroque. Humphrey Searle writes:

This type of chromaticism, based to some extent on the chord

of the d~inished seventh, was considerably influenced by
Bach's own use of chromatic harmonies, particularly in sorne
of the chorale harmonisations and chorale preludes. 3

In looking to the past, Liszt created the music of the future. For the

most part, the chyomatic harmonies enrich the tonality of the moment,

but at times, by virtue of their excess, deny the theory of functional

3Searle, The Music of Liszt, p. 87.

 192

harmony and severe1y weaken the tonal structure. The exposition of

the fugue is one section which crosses the boundaries of tonality and

at times verges on atonality. The subject itself adumbrates atone

row for the entire chroma tic scale is presented within the first

seventeen notes, only five being repeated. Searle continues:

but with Liszt we can see the beginning of that

sliding chromaticism which eventually weakened the tonal
system at the end of the century, in the works of composers
like Reger, ta such an extent that tonal analysis hardly
became possibleany more; and this in turn paved the way
for atonal music of Schoenberg and his followers • • • •
So this Prelude and Fugue may be regarded as a more or less
direct link between Bach and Schoenberg. 4

4 Ibid ., p. 83.
 CONCLUSION

The study of the commonality and the idiomatic differentiation

of piano and organ style in the nineteenth century through the keyboard

works of Franz Liszt has been approached in this paper from two

directions. First, a representative selection of pieces for each

instrument was surveyed to determine stylistic trends and to itemize

the technical innovations appearing in the literature. And second,

piano and organ counterparts of identical compositions were compared

note-for-note to uncover the most subtle deviations between the scores

which could shed some light on the differing needs of piano and organ

style. Such in-depth comparison yielded numerous alternatives in

composition, some of which were motivated by the necessary adaptation

for a different instrumental medium and still others which were simply

the inevitable refinement of the score. Knowing that the researcher may

become overly protective of his subject and may interpret the data too

subjectively to be valid, a conscious effort was made to be as unbiased

as possible and not to yield to the temptation to attribute every note

change as an accommodation of the instrument.

The time has come to draw into one ·field the microscopie

discussion of individual pieces and the more long-range, telescopic

survey of literature in order to place into perspective the techniques

of these pieces in the total output and the contribution of Liszt to

the world of keyboard style. It is aIl weIl and good to justify the

193
 194

smallest alteration as an indispensable concession to a particular

instrument's limitations, but these adjustments must also be viewed

from a more distant vantage point to determine if they are apropos to

only one particular composition or whether they can be applied to a

larger definition of keyboard style.

Before organizing the assortment of devices into a logical

pattern of compositional style, it must be emphasized once again that

Liszt was a composer of boundless imagination who was constantly

creating afresh rather than recycling older ideas. Composers such as

Liszt, who rarely want for inspiration, are often difficult to

categorize for the most predictable aspect of their style is that they

are, in fact, unpredictable. For instance, where in the "Weinen,

Klagen"-Variationsthe conversion of-a_leggiero quality in the piano

to dotted rhythms in the organ solved the transcription problems for

that particular piece, a similar situation in another composition at

another time may be handled in an entirely different manner. After

aIl, part of the genius of Liszt lies in his inexhaustible supply of

ideas, a virtue that could be cheapened by a too limiting summary of

his style.

This creativity impregnated his whole being, manifesting .

itself not only in his compositional work but in his performing

mannerisms as weIl. According to Andreas Moser

Joachim repeatedly said what a wonderful experience it was to

play sonatas or other chamber works with Liszt for the first
t~e. At the second or third performance, however, he could
not refrain from playing quite s~ple passages in octaves or
 195

thirds, converting ordinary tri1ls into sixths, and

indulging in "fiddle-faddle" of this kind eyen in such
a work as the Kreutzer Sonata of Beethoven.

In spite of the frustration that Joachim may have experienced,

his remarks lend insight into the personality of Liszt. The quality

which spurred Liszt to embellish even the masterworks of Beethoven

while playing with a dissenter like Joachim, is the same quality which

enticed Liszt to enter the performing arena with an equally creative

spirit. As his whole person was many-sided, shaped by diverse

influences described earlier, so his playing assumed many postures

dependent on the repertoire he was performing. Paul Henry Lang writes

that

[Liszt] evolved his own peculiar pianistic style. The

late president of the Royal Hungarian Academy of Music,
E. Mihalovich, an intimate friend of Liszt's, characterized
his pianistic touch and technique as something that could
assume three entirely different aspects. A "classical
neutral" tone was used when playing accompaniments; a
"romantic," i.e., very colorful yet thoroughly pianistic
sonority appeared when he played Schumann, Chopin, or his
own original piano works; but when he played his
transcriptions, he used an orchestral tone, and the
audience could readily perceive the pounding of the kettle
drums, the flourishes of the trumpets, and the scintillating
staccato of the winds. 2

With the impulse to interpret the broad spectrum of orchestral

sonorities to the piano, the scope of piano technique was greatly

expanded, and it is generally acknowledged that the technical demands

of the transcriptions far outweigh those of his original compositions.

Although the two transcriptions discussed in this paper are not in the

lNewman, The Man Liszt, p. 12 quoting Andreas Moser, Joseph

Joachim, ein Lebensbild, Neue umgearbeitete und erweiterte Ausgabe,
II, 339.
2Paul Henry Lang, "Liszt and the Romantic Movement," Musical
Quarterlr XXII (July, 1936), p. 317.
 196

same 1eague technica11y as the ear1ier opera tic and orchestral

transcriptions, it is appropriate tO,observe once again that both

transcriptions are conspicuously longer than their originals. Although

the enlargements are fully justified on musical grounds as necessary

accommodations to the new medium, it is still conceivable that a

certain element of spontaneity is ever-present with Liszt and his

music, and the analyst must be alert to this dimension.

Cognizant of very personal qualities which shape the music,

we may attempt to formulate a working definition of piano and organ

style in terms of Liszt's music. Above aIl, Liszt was aware that the

three distinguishing traits of piano and organ are· the difference in

dynamic range, pitch range and sustaining power. Near1y aIl the

adjustments in transcriptions were geared to satisfy one of these

differences, and although most of these were discussed as applicable to

the specifie composition, a brief recapitulation in light of general

style is needed. While the well-designed organ, whose ensembles are

balanced to each other and to the room in which they are sounded, is

rarely at a loss for sheer power, the piano must extend the dynamic

continuum by more devious means. The spacing of the hands in connection

with the register placement is largely responsible for carrying the

burden of a particular dynamic level. The containment of volume to a

pianissimo level is never a problem at the piano but the expansion to

a forte and fortissimo levels is not always accessible. When the

hands are positioned close together with less than an octave between

the thumbs, it is simply impossible to effect a forte in the upper

register. When the piano moves toward the climactic points of a piece,

both hands must either move to the lower register or they must progress
 197

in contrary motion to .the outermost extremes of the keyboard. The

organist, by comparison, gains no advantage. in imitating on the manua1s

the extreme hand positions of the pianiste The organ has the needed

volume in the first place, and the brilliance of the uppermost regions

is balanced by the weight of the pedalo As the left hand is

1iberated from the responsibilities of the bass line, so it is free to

add an independent 1ine or reinforce the sonorities of the right hand

or the pedale The thicker the texture, the higher it must be p1aced

to avoid an indistinguishable muddle. Therefore, as the texture moves

from contrapuntal lines to vertical chord structures, the left hand is

raised often above middle C to double the exact make-up of the right

hand.

The pitch range of the piano keyboard is about 44 per cent

larger than that of the organ manual, numbering 88 notes to the organ's

61. But the full gamut is not used equally on each instrument.

Probably because of the comparative weakness in tone, the upper octave

of the piano is used less often than the upper octave of the organ.

Conversely, the lower region of the piano, where the tone is rich and

capable of extended projection, is used more often than that of the

organ. If the pedal is functioning, the use of the lower limits of the

organ manual on an independent part would only confuse the two lines

rather than add depth to the tone. Therefore the operative range of

each instrument's keyboard is less in practice than in actual design.

Nonetheless, the composer structures a composition according to

the full resources of the instrument, and even though the tessitura

of the hands may be contained most of the tûne, the extremes are

available for the momentary ttpeaks" in the work. Knowing the maximum
 198

height to which a line will eventually rise, the preliminary contours

are designed to give a sense of progression through the work in order

to prepare the moment of greatest surge, possibly the strongest

climax of the piece. Thus every contour has a relation to the whole

and is conceived with a foreknowledge of the maximum range of the

instrument. There were repeated instances in the Variations where

Liszt shortened the organ contours even though the physical range of

the instrument would have permitted their execution. Transcribing

piano music to the organ then does not simply entail the chopping off

of notes which lie above the limits of the keyboard, but rather the

reconstruction of much of the preceding material to prepare the way for

the new "peak."

As was apparent in the brief survey of the development of the

pianoforte, composers have been plagued constantly by the deficiency

of sustaining power, a defect which probably will never be erased but

which has been, and will continue to be, expertly disguised in the

music. When Liszt sought to give the illusion of prolonged sound in

the piano, he slowed the harmonie rhythm but'increased the rhythmic

configurations. Most ofte~ this also necessitated an addition of

measures in order to provide an adequate time span for the sound to

linger.

Enmeshed in the whole discussipn of the composer's concessions

to range and difference in decay is the pacing of rhythmic activity.

For instance, if the organ cannot climb to the same heights afforded to

the piano, the organ can lengthen the time (number of measures) taken

to reach the comparable point, giving the illusion of equal exertion

in the ascent if not equal attainment in the height. Apparently this

 199

technique was only operative in the organ transcription of the

Variations and is not a standard fonnula to differentiate the

construction of piano and organ 1iterature. There was no instance

in the B-A-C-H where Liszt cut original materia1 in the piano

transcription in order to exaggerate the a1ready wide contours.

Neverthe1ess, this still stands as one more alternative to compensate

for the differences in range.

The continuum of durationa1 values is more extensive to the

piano than the organ. A1though both instruments can dwe11 on pro10nged

sonorities, that is, ha1f and who1e notes, at some point in the score

without fata11y deadening the sense of rhythmic continuity, both

instruments cannot increase themovement to the same degree without

sacrificing the inte11igibi1ity of the organ score. Therefore, because

the piano can encompass a wider range of values, it is free to pace the

rhythmic motion more gradua11y and over a longer expanse unti1 it

reaches its maximum 1eve1. The organ, however, must not on1y budget

its increase of values more fruga11y, but may need to cut back the

pulse at severa1 points on1y to acce1erate again in order to retain the

illusion of constant acce1eration over a long period of time. Therefore,

Liszt's concept of rhythmic pacing, evidenced in the Variations and the

B-A-C-H, prescribes the piano to be continuous with gradua11y increased

activity, and the organ to be more segmented wherein the rhythmic

increases behave as short sprints, occupying a shorter 1ength of time.

Because of the natura1 properties of each instrument, a composer

who can successfu11y cast the piano into an abso1ute state of inertia

and the organ into a frenzy of activity has conquered the most

unidiomatic obstacle of each instrumen~'~d;wi11 no doubt attain

 200

eminence for his discovery. The Variations appear ta embody this

principle the most precisely. However, relative ta the issue of piano

inertia versus organ activity is an aspect of rhythmic pacing not

previously set forth. It has already been suggested that the piano

progresses more consistently through note values than the organ:

that is, quarter - eighth - triplet of eighths - sixteenths, but

certainly there are innumerable exceptions ta this generalization.

Notwithstanding the Inevitable maneuverings within such a series which

are vital ta rhythmic interest, there are times when note values are

taken out of sequence ta accommodate each instrument's differing needs

for rhythmic pacing. For example, negating the effect of graduaI

acceleration or deceleration, the movement may abruptly shift from half

notes ta sixteenths, or vice versa. When bath instruments have settled

into a section of longer durational values, the area immediately

preceding or following, depending upon the instrument, may be the site

of such an abrupt change. Since it is more difficult ta energize organ

music, the jump in rhythm is made after the slower values ta give the

~pression of more activity than is actually present. In the case of

the piano, the jump occurs before the slower values sa that the length

of the sonorities is exaggerated to appear longer than written. By

dropping directly from sixteenths ta half notes, the composer

compensa tes for the lack of sustaining power and feigns a severance of

rhythmic activity. Thus, the juxtaposition of quicker note values ta

more prolonged ones serves opposite ends in the piano and organ

literature: ta give the illusion of increased sustaining power in the

piano and intensive rhythmic activity in the organ.

 201

AlI three organ compositions discussed in this paper close with

a Maestoso statement in a major key, an ~print of Liszt's general

compositional style. After the flurry of activity has subsided, Liszt,

in a gesture of self-satisfaction, figuratively steps back to survey the

breadth of his creation. Whether it takes the form of a chorale in the

Variations, a homophonie Maestoso in Ad nos or the B-A-C-H, or the

grandioso sections of the B-minor Sonata or other works, the effect is

the same. The technique is common to aIL media; its application to the

piano and organ versions of the Variations and the B-A-C-H differs

slightly. While the conclusion of both piano versions resemble portions

of their organ counterpart, neither can afford the same luxuriant

expenditure of prolonged sonority and must return one last time to the

figurational flourishes in order to arrive precipitously at the end.

Needless to say, not aIL organ pieces end slow and piano pieces end

fast. Rather it may be asserted that slow-paced conclusions, from those

pieces which will have created a strong, dramatic quality through

periods of intense rhythmic activity, are more limited to the piano than

the organ. When they are used in the piano, theycannot be used on as

broad a scale as the organ, but must rather be concentrated within a

smaller time frame in order to prevent the loss in drive to the final

chord.

When the advocates of the Orgelbewegung began to perceive the

organ as the Ideal expression of polyphonie literature, the attitudes

toward figurational detail became especially conservative. Whatever

prompted those sages to identify the nineteenth-century literature as

less suitable to the organ because of its so-called lack of polyphony

and its emphasis on color was insensitive to the full potential of the
 202

organ. If scales and arpeggios are the property of every musician's

music, then these are also the components of the organists' literature

as weIl. Of course it is the dressing of these components which makes

a composition idiomatic to a particular instrument.

The use of scales, although the raw material of most music, is

not a vehicle for parallel compositional problems in the piano and

organ. Because the thrust of the hand is weaker in the smaller

five-note range than in the expanded intervals produced by arpeggios,

passage work of unison scales, not doubled in octaves, cannot be

democratically applied to any part of the composition. Quite definitely

single-line scales are most effective in the piano at mezzo-forte or

lesser levels if the material is situated in the treble register. For

the piano to attempt a forte level or more is futile unless the hand

is lowered to the deepest register or the line is reinforced with

octaves. Thus, when the piano needs to be both loud and active, scales

are not the Most effective expression. However, the organ, whose

dynamic strength is not dependent upon the weight of the hand or

shoulder, May elect scalar material as a natural recourse to the demand

for volume and energy. A spray of step-wise movement in the organ is

not always a succession of sharply differentiated pitches, but rather

an outline of a contour bearing strength in the nondecaying quality of

the instrument.

Arpeggiated passage work is likewise tempered to suit the

personality of the instrument. With the advent of the damper pedal the

hands were at liberty to leave the bass regions for a longer period of

time in order to cover the entire gamut of the keyboard. The sustaining

function of the pedal, then, not only assists in the tonal continuity
 203

of the less-often sounded bass line, but also, depending upon the

degree it is depressed, helps to biend the chordal flourishes into a

more homogeneous unit. The organ, lacking such a device, is forceq

to rearrange the arpeggio groupings to fit under the reach of the

hand. While this minimization of contours may be a concession to

limited range, it also enables one or more notes to be sustained

within the figure to lend more continuity to the harmonie progression.

Sometimes, as in Ad nos, aIl the notes of the arpeggio are briefly

sustained until repetition is needed in order to accumulate the kind

of intensity accomplished.. by the piano' s damper pedal.

As figurational patterns are often the servant ofrhythmic

vitality or of harmonie extension, so in the keyboard works of Liszt

they also become a conveyance for contrasting tone colors. This, in

combination with his incurable infatuation with registraI changes,

enlarged the tonal palette and personified the pianist, not so much as

an executant of the page, but more as a conductor of variegated

ensembles. While both register changes and a variety of figurational

material abound in the piano, the organ is much less dependent on a

wide panorama of effects. Whiletexture and rhythm are being

continually transformed in the piano, the organ is content to make such

transformations less often. As a matter of fact, change of register is

frequently the organ's response to the piano's change of figuration.

Nowhere in the pieces studied was the reverse found to be true.

Therefore, one may conclude that, in Liszt's music, figurational

colorings are more the province of the piano score than the organ. Not

that the organ is void of tonal shadings; the music is both spontaneous

and diversified, but the variety is a product of other sources. Such

 204

devices as register shifts, contrapuntal interplay, abrupt changes of

dynamics, texture, tempo, etc. as weIl as the organ's individual

line-up of tonal registers aIl contribute to a huge panorama of tonal

colorings.

Excluded thus far from the resumé of compositional techniques

for organ is Liszt's attitude toward the pedal division. Since the

content of Liszt's pedal parts is controversial leaving its discussion

on precarious footing, any conclusions are, in the very least, highly

debatable. Proceeding very cautiously sorne observations should be

ventured, however, concerning Liszt's contribution to the evolution

of pedal technique. For the most part, Liszt's assessment of pedal

capabilities was extraordinarily short-sighted. Although fully versed

in the pedaling techniques of J. S. Bach and probably familiar with

the Mendelssohn works for organ, Liszt still made little attempt to

offer new technical challenges to the feet.of the organiste When the

pedals are not tracing the bass line of a passage, they may be charged

with thematic material behaving as a counterpart to .the manuals. The

most difficult. pedal technique appearing in aIl the organ works

discussed is that of sustained double pedal moving in octaves. Such a

technique is less used in works predating Liszt, and because of its

consistency, forms an indisputable mannerism in Liszt's pedal language.

The whole technique betrays pianistic overtones and may be a remnant of

Liszt's concept of the left hand in strong, tutti sections. There are

also occasions where the feet may alternate notes of the octave still

maintaining a legato with successive notes in each foot. This technique

is no more difficult than conventional legato octaves and offers yet

another example of the infiltration of left hand material into the pedale
 205

The use of solo pedal is not cheapened by virtuosic display but

is reserved for preparation to climax or for transitory function. The

movement is usually slower-paced, bearing little import technically

but overwhelming weight musically. Only in the Straube edition of

the Ad nos is there a glimmer that the early pedaling of Liszt May have

been far more daring. Exceptionally taxing lines, which were caught up

from the duet version, May h~ve been an alternative for the virtuoso

organists of the period, although there is no proof as to which material

was performed.

It is perplexing why Liszt found so little use for the pedal

division. Although he May not have been the MOst proficient organist

himself, he was acquainted with the technical ramifications of the

instrument through the works of previous masters, contemporary

composers and performers. If he saw little merit in simply busying the

feet, he must have been in quest of a more substantial role. Numerous

examples can illustrate this from the assignation of climactic areas

to solo pedal to the rhythmic counterpart of manual material. However,

it was not until the 1870 version of the B-A-C-H that Liszt conceived

the pedal as a natural extensio~ of the bottom-most range of the manuals.

To consider the 10west note of the peda1 to the highest one of the

manuals as one continuum was a concept long overdue in organ composition

and was to be reali~ed in on1y three moments in the entire organ

literature of Liszt published to date: the first version of the

Pilgrim's Chorus by Wagner published in 1860, the Variations, and the

B-A-C-H version just cited. Extension of manual range is the least

conspicuous in the Variations where a single pedal note completes a

melodic line in the left hand (see Ex. IV-29). The concept May be
 206

further applied to the Wagner example, although the pedal May be

interpreted as a literaI restatement of the left hand material rather

than an extension of it.

Pilgrim's Chorus, Vol. IV, p. 95, mm. 88-96.

Only the B-A-C-H example (see Ex. V-3) with its rhythmic and melodic

interest leaves little room for dispute. The pedal is definitely used

as an extension of manual range.

The search for an idiomatic character of a specifie instrumental

medium is unquestionably an evolutionary problem. The material which

would have been recognized as perfectly suited to a particular

instrument in the seventeenth century is largely different from that of

the nineteenth or even twentieth century. Just as the grammar and the

usage of a spoken language evolves from generation to generation, so

also the style and technique of an instrumental language changes with

the prevailing taste of the day. Therefore, every composer may

contribute sorne new dimension to a piano or organ style helping to direct

the development of the instrument's literature without dramatically

altering its course.

Then why study Liszt alone to determine the techniques which

are unquestionably idiomatic to these kayboard instruments? In the

 207

world of pianism1the nineteenth century nurtured a host of

improvisational performers who were able to conceive and mas ter an

assortment of virtuosic skills. Liszt, although lionized for his

technical prowess, was not without challenging competition both in

/
performance and composition. As helpful as the Etudes were in earlier

chapters to summarize the technical devices which Liszt employed, he

was in effect carrying on the traditions of such composers as Clementi,

Cramer, Czerny, Moscheles and more explicitly, the concert etudes of

Chopin. Although the techniques of his music and the older masters may

be interrelated to some extent, there is no one piece which mirrors

the imagination which Liszt implanted in his music. The devices may

be similar but the scope of their application in the hands of Liszt

is unparalleled. Where Chopin multiplied the wealth of pianism, his

music remains aristocratie, tinged with a classicism espoused by

Schumann and the rest of the Davidsbündler League. That Liszt

trespassed beyond the policy of self-containment promoted by these men

is what makes his music a fertile. ground for a survey of technique.

The piano to Liszt was an instrument of the future posses~ing an

infinite number of possibilities which needed only to be discovered.

The Iiberai philosophy which directed bis life was aiso responsible for

coloring his attitudes toward musical art. Consequently he often chose

to embrace a wider variety of figurational effects in a single piece

than his contemporaries. However, in spite of the opulence of detail,

his original compositions never exceed the bounds of good taste and

constitute the most revolutionary and yet strongly substantial music

for investigation of this problem.

 208

For the organ, Liszt's contribution to the development of

literature and technique is even more monumental. Although most of the

nineteenth-century pianists, like Mendelssohn, Chopin, Brahms,

Schumann, etc. whose compositions have found acclaim in the twentieth

century, played the organ and even wrote modestly for it, the

competition among Liszt's contemporaries both in organ performance and

compositional' output was much too spiritless and circumscribed to be

nutritive to the welfare of the instrument. As aresult, it is more

convenient to trace the evolution of organistic devices and to pinpoint

the composers who induced the changes. Technically speaking, Liszt

was not the pioneer, because Mendelssohn, in both the Sonatas and the

Preludes and Fugues, had suggested that the organ could survive without

the complexities of a contrapuntal fabric. Much of the time in

Mendelssohn's music figurational patterns prevail over contrapuntal

textures, and when, as in the fugues, imitation technique might elicit

greater regimentation in voice handling, the number of voices is still

surprisingly inconsistent wi th in the piece. Moreover, Mendelssohn

seemed to travel over the keyboard more frequently than his predecessors,

thus appearing to extend the playing range of the instrument. Most of

a11, the capabilities of the feet were challenged to different styles

of passage work and one need only look in the first, fifth and sixth

sonatas to observe the pedal in extended step-wise runs and ~tude-like

variations. In regard to form, Mendelssohn perceived other alternatives

for the instrument, and sorne of the movements of the Sonatas could be

extracted as the organ counterparts to the character pieces for piano,

although, admittedly, the pieces lack descriptive titles.

 209

In spite of aIl the evidence which may nominate Mendelssohn as

the most innovative in organ composition, Liszt still emerges as the

single-most influential figure to change the image of organ art. For

instance, although Mendelssohn cracked the mold of conventional musical

form for organ, Liszt shattered it completely in the one-movement

structure of Ad nos, the extended variation form of the Variations as

weIl as the episodic structure of the B-A-C-H. Too many of the movements

in Mendelssohn's Sonatas are elaborations of the chorale prelude form,

so that the two men are not of the same persuasion. Moreover, although

Mendelssohn's concept of manual technique was exceptionally liberal for

his otherwise classical leanings, it remained for Liszt, and his broad

spectrum of tonal colorings, to capitalize on the most precious

resource of the nineteenth-century organ. Tone color, in Liszt's

sense, 1s not dependent on registrational markings, for there were

amazingly few, but rather on the construction of the piece. Liszt's

organ music, with its segmentation of structure and continuaI changes

of register, texture, rhythm, etc., appears to assume a series of poses,

shifting from one character to another. It is this very quality which

broke the long reign of the Doctrine of Affections, affirming that organ

music need not espouse one color format at a time but could shift, in

kaleidoscopic fashion, among many. This infatuation with tone color,

not only for its variegation but for its potential as an implement in

the organization of musical form, establishes Liszt as a precursor of

the timbraI experiments of the twentieth century. In the world of

organ art, Liszt, and his vision of a new idiom for church music, stands

as a direct link between the music of J. S. Bach and the avant-garde

experimentalists of the 1960's and 1970's.

 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

The references used for this paper are organized into

three areas: a) Materials of General Scope, b) Materials

Pertaining to Liszt, and c) Editions and Indices. The first

category is further subdivided into: a) Background to the

Nineteenth Century, b) Piano Literature, c) Organ Literature,

and d) Development of Instruments. Entries related to Liszt

are classified according to: a) General (biography, etc.),

b) Piano, and c) Organ.

210
 211

I. Materia1s of General Scope

A. Background to the Nineteenth Century

B1ume, Friedrich. "Bach in the Romantic Era." Trans1ated by

Piero Weiss. Musical Quarter1y, L (Ju1y, 1964), 290-306.

C1assic and Romantic Music. Trans1ated by M. D. Herter

Norton. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., Inc., 1970.

Fay, Amy. Music-Study in Germany. New York: Dover Publications,

1965. First edition, 1880.

Fischer, Kurt von. The Variation. Introduction translated by

Eva Howe. Vol. XI of Antho1ogy of Music. Edited by
K. G. Fe11erer. 35 vols. Ko1n:. Arno Vo1k Ver1ag, 1962.

Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians. 5th edition. Edited by

Eric Blom. New York: St. Martin's Press, Inc., 1954.

Kobbe's Complete Opera Book. Edited and revised by The Earl of

Harewood. London: William Clowes and Sons, Ltd., 1961.
\
Lenz, Wilhelm von. The Great Piano Virtuosos of Our Time. Revised
translation edited by Philip Reder. London: Regency Press,
Ltd., 1971.

Longyear, Rey M. Nineteenth-Century Romanticism in Music. 2nd ed.

Eng1ewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Ha1l, Inc., 1973.

Mason, Daniel Gregory. The Romantic Composers. London:

MacMillan and Co., Ltd., 1936.

Mü11er-Blattau, Josef. The Fugue: From Handel to the Twentieth

Century. Trans1ated by Robert Ko1ben. Vol. XXXIII of
Antho1ogy of Music. Edited by K. G. Fellerer. 35 vols.
KaIn: Arno Volk Verlag, 1968.

Nelson, Robert U. The Technique of Variation: A Study of the

Instrumental Variation from Antonio de Cabez6n to
Max Reger. Berkeley: University of Ca1ifornia Press, 1949.

Newman, William S. The Sonata Since Beethoven. Chapel Hill, N. C.:

University of North Carolina Press, 1969.

Noske, Frits. "Tradition et innovation dans la virtuosit~ romantique,"

Acta Musicologica, XLIII (Ju1y, 1971), 114-25.

Pincherle, Marc. "Virtuosity." Translated by Wi11is Wager.

Musical Quarterly, XXXV (April, 1949), 226-43.
 212

P1antinga, Leon B. Schumann as Critic. New Haven: Yale University

Press, 1967.

"Schumann's View of 'Romantic'." Musica1·Quarter1y, LII

(April, 1966), 221-32.

Raynor, Henry B. "Religion and Music in the Romantic Age." Monthly

Musical Record, LXXXVII (November, 1957), 218-26.

Ringer, Alexander L. "Musical Taste and the Industria1 Syndrome."

International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music,
V (June, 1974), 139-53.

"A propos du développement de l'instrumentation au début

der XIXe si~cle." Acta Musicologica, XLIII (July, 1971),
236-48.

Schumann, Robert. Music and Musicians. Translated by Fanny Raymond

Ritter. 8th ed. London: William Reeves, Ltd., n.d.

Stephenson, Kurt. Romanticism in Music. Translated by Robert Ko1ben.

Vol. XXI of Anthology of Music. Edited by K. G. Fel1erer.
35 vols. KaIn: Arno Verlag, 1961.

Wangermée,- Robert.uTradition et innovation dans la virtuosité

romantique." Acta Musico1ogica, XLII (January, 1970), 5-32.

B. Piano Literature

Dale, Kathleen. Nineteenth-Century Piano Music. London: Oxford,

1954.

Ganz, Peter Felix. "The Deve10pment of the Etude for Pianoforte."

Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Northwestern University,
1960.

Georgii, Walter. Four Hundred Years of European Keyboard Music.

2nd ed. Vol. l of Anthology of Music. Edited by
K. G. Fellerer. 35 vols. Ko1n: Arno Volk Ver1ag, 1959.

Kahl, Willy. The Character Piece. Vol. VIII of Anthology of Music.

Edited by K. G. Fellerer. 35 vols. Koln: Arno Volk Verlag,
1961.

Kirby, F. E. A Short History of Keyboard Music. New York: The

Free Press, 1966.

Loesser, Arthur. Men, Women and Pianos. New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1954.
 213

Weitzmann, C. F. A History of Pianoforte-P1aying and Pianoforte­

Literature. New York: G. Schirmer, 1893.

C. Organ Literature

Arnold, Cor1iss Richard. Organ Literature: A Comprehensive Survey.

Metuchen, N. J.: Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1973.

Dah1haus, Carl. "Moderne. Orge1musik und das 19. Jahrhundert."

Orge1 und Orge1musik Heute: Versuch einer Analyse. Edited by
Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht. Stuttgart: Musikwissenschaft1iche
Ver1ag-Gese11schaft, 1968.

Dufourcq, Norbert. "The Symphonic and the Neo-C1assic Organ."

Trans1ated by Raymond Mabry from La Musique d'Orgue Francaise
de Jehan Tite10uze ~ Jehan Alain. Music/The A.G.O.-R.C.C.O.
Magazine, VIII (June, 1974), 32-34.

Fe1lerer, K. G. Studien zur Orge1musik des ausgehenden 18. u. frühen

19. Jahrhunderts. Kassel: Barenreiter-Verlag, 1932.

Frotscher, Gottho1d. Geschichte des Orgelspiels und der

Orgelkomposition. 2 vols •. Berlin: Merseberger Ver1ag, 1959.

Kratzenstein, Marilou. nA Survey of Organ Literature and Editions:

France Since 1800." Diapason, LXIV (November, 1973), 3-6, 8.

Phelps, Lawrence I. "A Short History of the Organ Revival." Church

Music, 67.1, 13-30.

Saunders, Russell. "An Outline for Use in Organ Literature (MHS

213-214) at the Eastman School of Music." 2nd ed. Rochester,
1974. (Mimeographed.)

Walsh, Stephen. "Schumann and the Organ." Musical Times, CXI

(July. 1970), 741-43.
Weyer, Martin. Die deutsche Orgelsonate von Mendelssohn bis Reger.
Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag, 1969.

Zakin, Anita. "Chopin and the Organ." Musical Times, CI (December,

1960), 780-81.

D. Development of Instruments

Goodrich, Wallace. The Organ in France. Boston: Boston Music Co.,

1817.
 214

Harding, Rosamond E. M. The Piano-Forte: Its History Traced to the

Great Exhibition of 1851. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1933.

K1otz, Hans. The Organ Handbook.Trans1ated hy Gerhard Krapf.

St. Louis, Missouri: Concordia Pub1ishing House, 1969.

Moore, Wayne T. "Liszt's Monster Instrument: The Piano-Harmonium."

Diapason, LXI (August, 1970), 14-15.

Sumner, William Les1ie. The Organ: Its Evolution, Principles of

Construction and Use. 4th ed. New York: St. Martin's,
1962.

The Pianoforte. London: MacDonald & Co., Ltd., 1966.

Williams, Peter F. The European Organ 1450-1850. London:

B. T. Batsford, 1966.

II. Materials Pertaining to Liszt

A. General

Bangert, Mark. "Franz Liszt's Essay on Church Music (1834) in the

Light of Fe1icitè Lammennais's Religious and Po1itica1
Thought." Church Music, 73.2, 17-25.

Bartbk, Béla. "The Liszt Prob1ems." Trans1ated by Colin Mason.

Month1y Musical Record, LXXVIII (October, 1948), 199-203,
236-39, 267-69.

"Liszt's Music and Today's Public." Translated by

Colin Mason. Month1y Musical Record, LXXVIII (September, 1948),
180-83.

Beckett, Walter. Liszt. Master Musician Series. London: J. M. Dent,

1956.

Bekker, Paul. "Franz Liszt Reconsidered." Translated by Arthur Mendel.

Musical Quarterly, XXXVIII (April, 1942), 186-89.
/ /

Haraszti, Emile. Franz Liszt. Paris: Editions A. et J. Picard et

Cie, 1967.

"Franz Liszt - Author Despite Himself." Translated hy

John A. GUbnan. Musical Quarterly, XXXIII (October, 1947),
490-516.

Hill, Ralph. Liszt. New York: A. A. Wyn, 1949.

 215

Huneker, James. Franz Liszt. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons,

1911.

Lang, Paul Henry. "Liszt and the Romantic Movement." Musical

-Quarter1y, XXII (Ju1y, 1936), 314-25.

L~sz10, Zsigmond, and Mateka, Béla. Franz Liszt: A Biography in

Pictures. Trans1ated by Barna Ba1ogh. Translation revised
by Cynthia Jo11y. London: Barrie & Rock1iff, 1969.

Liszt, Franz. Gesamme1te Schriften. Vol. II. Edited by

Lina Ramann. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1881.

Letters of Franz Liszt. 2 vols. Co11ected and edited by

La Mara. Trans1ated by Constance Bache. New York: Haske11
House Pub1ishers Ltd., 1968. First pub1ished, 1894.

The Letters of Franz Liszt to Marie zu Sayn-Wittgenstein.

Trans1ated and edited by Howard E. Hugo. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1953.

"Robert Schumann." Trans1ate~ by Dr. F. Har1ing-Comyns.

Musical Times, XCVII (Ju1y, 1956), 377.

Newman, Eme st. . . T.h...;;;e_M.:;.;a_n_L..;;;;i..;..s_z.

.. .t. . .:. ._A_-.S..;..t.
. . . ud. . . . . .y.L.-0~f~th_e~T_r. . . a.; .;. gloooL..,;.i-_C_o_rn_ed_Y.L.-0_f_a.....-,.S_o_u_1
Divided against Itse1f. London: Casse11 & Co., Ltd., 1934.

Noh1, Louis. Life of Liszt. Trans1ated by George P. Upton. Detroit:

Gale Research Co., 1970. First edition, 1889~

Orga, Ates. "Franz Liszt: Time for Reassessment." Musical Opinion,

XCVI (Ju1y, 1973), 511-15; (September, 1973), 621-22.

"Rediscovered Liszt." Music and Musicians, XVI (December,

1967), 34-36, 62.

perényi, Eleanor. Liszt: The Artist As Romantic Hero. Boston:

Little, Brown and Co., 1974.
Pourtales, Guy de. Franz Liszt. Translated by Eleanor Stimson Brooks.
New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1926.

Raabe, Peter. Franz Liszt. 2 vols. Stuttgart and Berlin: Cotta,

1931. Reprinted, with amended catalog of Liszt works by
Felix Raabe, 1968.

Ramann, Lina. Franz Liszt: AIs Künst1er und Mensch. 3 vols.

Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1880, 1887, 1894.

Franz Liszt: Artist and Man 1811-1840. Trans1ated by

Miss E. Cowdery. London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1882.
 216

Rehberg, Paula. Franz Liszt. ZGrich: Artemis Ver1ag, 1961.

Rostand, Claude. Liszt. Translated by John Victor. London:

Calder and Boyars, 1972.

Schnapp, Friedrich.' "Liszt: A Forgotten Romance of Liszt."

Translated by Humphrey Searle. Music and Letters, XXXIV
(July, 1953), 232-35.

Searle, Humphrey. "Liszt and 20th Century Music." Liszt-Bartok:

Report of the Second International Musicological Conference
(1961). Budapest: Akadémiai Kiado, 1963.

The Music of Liszt. London: Williams & Norgate Ltd.,

1954.

Sitwell, Sacheverell. Liszt. London: Cassell & Co., Ltd., 1955.

Reprinted by Dover Publications Inc., 1967.

Szabolsci, Bence. The Twilight of Ferenc Liszt. Translated by

Andras Deak. Budapest: Publishing House of the Hungarian
Academy of Sciences, 1959.

Walker, Alan, ed. Franz Liszt: The Man and His Music. London:
Barrie & Jenkins, 1970.

Weingartner, Felix von. "Franz Liszt, as Man and Artist." Musical

Quarterly, XXII (July, 1936), 255-58.

B. Piano Music

Friedheim, Philip. "The Piano Transcriptions of F't'anz Liszt."

Studies in Romanticism, l (Winter, 1962), 83-96.

Koh1er, Jean Charles. "The Harmonie Equipment in the Original Piano

Works of Liszt." Unpub1ished M.M. thesis, Eastman Schoo1 of
Music, 1940.

Lee, Robert Charles. "Some Little Known Late Piano Works of Liszt
(1869";1886): A Miscellany." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation,
University of Washington, 1970.

Little, John Brittain. "Left"7Hand Techniques in the Piano Sonatas of

Schubert, Schumann, Chopin and Liszt." Unpublished D.M.A.
dissertation, Eastman Schoo1 of Music, 1965.

Longyear, Rey M. "Liszt's B minor Sonata: Pre.cedents for a Structural

Analysis." Music Review, XXXIV (August, 1973), 198-209.

"The Text of Liszt's B minor Sonata." Musical Quarterly,

LX (July, 1974), 435-50.
 217

Riggs, Dorothy. "A Comparison of the Styles of Chopin and Liszt as

Evidenced in Their Pianoforte Etudes." Unpublished M.A.
thesis, Eastman Schoo1 of Music, 1932.

Westerby, Herbert. Liszt, Composer and His Piano Works. London:

William Reeves, Ltd., 1936.

Yeomans, William. "The Late Piano Works of Liszt." Monthly Musical

Record, LXXIX (February, 1949), 31-37.

C. Organ Music

Bakken, Howard. "Liszt and the Organ." Diapason, LX (May, 1969),

27-29.

Gibson, David. "Franz Liszt's Christmas Tree." Diapason, LXII

(December, 1970), 28.

Grace, Harvey. "Liszt and the Organ." Musical Times, LVIII

(August, 1917), 357-60.

Schwarz, Peter. Studienzur Orgelmusik Franz Liszts: Ein Beitrag zur

Geschichte der Orgelkomposition im 19. Jahrhundert. Berliner
Musikwissenschaftliche Arbeiten, Vol. III. München:
Musikverlag Emil Katzbichler, 1973.

Searle, Humphrey. "Liszt's Organ Music." Musical Times, CXII

(June, 1971), 597-98.

Staplin, Carl. "Couperin, Liszt, Messaien and the Organ Mass."

Diapason, LIlI (November, 1962), 44.

III. Editions and Indices

Bach, J. S. Cantata No. 12 "Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen."

Edited by Arnold Schering from the Bach-Gesellschaft.
London: Ernst Eulenburg, Ltd., n.d.

Fantasie und Fuge in G moll für Orgel. Transcribed for

piano by Franz Liszt. Magdeburg: Heinrichschofen's Verlag,
n.d.

6 Praludien und Fugen für Orgel. Transcribed for piano by

Franz Liszt. Leipzig: C. F. Peters, n.d.

Liszt, Franz. Fantasy and Fugue on "Ad nos" für Orgel oder
Pedalflügel. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1861.

1
 218

Liszt Society Publications. 5 vols. London:

Schott, [19501- J.

Musikalische Werke. 33 vols. Part II, Vols. 1-111.

Edited by F. Busoni. Part II, Vols. VIII, IX. Edited by
J. V. daMotta. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1907-36.
Republished in England by Gregg Press, Ltd., 1966.
, Q / ,
Negy Orgonamu. Edited by Sebestyen Pecsi. Budapest:
Editio Musica, 1970.

Neue Ausgabe samtlicher Werke. Series l, Vols. I-IV, VII.

Edited by Zoltan Gardonyi and Istv~n Szelenyi. Budapest:
Editio Musica; Kassel: Barenreiter, 1970­

Orgelkompositionen. 2 vols. Edited by Karl Straube.

Leipzig: C. F. Peters, 1903.

Ôsszes orgonamüve. 4 vols. Edited by S~ndor Margittay.

Budapest: Editio Musica, 1970.

• "Praeludium und Fuge fûr die Orgel über BACH." Boston Public
-------Library: Manuscript, M. 420.47 [187?] •

Praeludium und Fu e über B-A-C-H für Or el. Leipzig:

Schuberth & Co., [188?

Thematisches Verzeichnis der Werke, Bearbeitungen und

Transcriptionen. Neue vervollstandigte Ausgabe. Leipzig:
Breitkopf & Hartel, [c. l878J., Reprinted London: H. Baron,
1965.

"
Trois Oeuvres pour orgue revues, annotees et d ·"
o1gtees par
Marcel Dupré. Paris: S. Bornemann, 1941.

Variationen über "Weinen Kla en" Harmonium,

oder Pedalflügel. Erfurt: KOrner,

Meyerbeer, Giacomo. Il Profeta. Milano: G. Ricordi e C., n.d.