PIANO MUSIC - Abeille Musique

acknowledgement) Liszt’s theme for the opening of
Parsifal, a circumstance remarked on by Liszt in the
manuscript of his very sad little piece Am Grabe
Richard Wagners. In the cantata, Liszt contents himself
with the repeated setting of the one word ‘Excelsior!’
from Longfellow’s Golden Legend, reserving the second
part of the cantata proper to set the text of the section
‘The Bells of Strasburg Cathedral’ in full. Not a word
about ‘the banner with the strange device’ known to us
all from Balfe’s famous parlour duet. But Longfellow
happily accepted Liszt’s dedication.
This programme contains yet two more accounts of
Liszt’s beloved Die Zelle in Nonnenwerth (‘The
Nonnenwerth Cloister’). (The final version is in volume
25, the third in volume 26, and the first in volume 51.)
The present – second – version is effectively two
versions in one, because its more florid alternative text
proceeds alongside the main text for much of the work,
printed together on four staves. The two texts are both
offered here because of their great divergence in letter
and spirit, even though the general air of melancholy in
the rueful recollection of happier times – implied in the
original song and in the occasion of its conception –
permeates both.
Liszt scholars had long been aware of an earlier
unpublished version of the fifth Consolation under the
title Madrigal – in an inaccessible manuscript in a
private collection. But a manuscript, partly in Liszt’s
hand and partly in the hand of a copyist, shows there to
be a complete set of six pieces in an earlier version, and,
for the moment, we must presume that the copyist’s
manuscript of No 5 agrees with the Madrigal
manuscript in all but title. The first set of Consolations
has recently been published for the first time (in
tandem with the second set), under the scrupulous
editorship of Mária Eckhardt. The most obvious
difference from the later set (in volume 9 of this series)
is the third piece – another piece altogether, which later
served as the main material for the opening of the first
Rapsodie hongroise. But, the lack of the great D flat
Consolation No 3 aside, the early versions are a
revelation in their generally less pristine view of the
material. Only No 6 is more restrained than its later
counterpart – and yet perhaps fits better in the scheme
of the series on that account. Those familiar with the
later set will find themselves constantly and delightfully
deflected from their expectations by music which seems
every bit as valid as the final conceptions.
The two short cycles, Geharnischte Lieder (‘Songs
in Armour’) and Rosario, remind us again of the sheer
variety of Liszt’s musical palette. As so often with Liszt,
the genesis of his Geharnischte Lieder is a little
complicated: the piano pieces derive not just from the
eponymous unaccompanied male choruses of 1860 in
the collection Für Männergesang, but also from earlier
versions of these choruses with piano accompaniment.
The order and titles of the piano version are the same
as in the later choral version, which credits the texts to
Carl Götze, whilst the earlier version (with Nos 2 and 3
the other way about) ascribes them to Theodor Meyer
(the present writer would be grateful for any
enlightenment on this subject). Vor der Schlacht
(‘Before the battle’) and Es rufet Gott uns mahnend
(‘God calls and warns us’) are both settings of a poem
apparently originally called Trost (‘Consolation’), in
which soldiers are called by God to the sacred battle;
Nicht gezagt! encourages leaden-hearted soldiers
under a leaden sky to enter the fray without hesitation
or lament.
Rosario, which is in fact marked by Liszt as
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