The genesis of the Transcendental Etudes––which spans a quarter century since these works’ earliest ancestor, Étude en douze exercices––is a rather intricate and laborious one. Liszt’s first venture into the étude as an art form took place when he was only 13 years old. Despite his tender age, his first set of 12 études evinces strong and well-defined thematic outlines that would constitute the basis for both his Grandes Études and Études d'exécution transcendante (or Transcendental Etudes). Apart from the motivic significance of the earlier works, as well as their tonal design (which is the same model for the following two versions), their technical apparatus is hardly innovative; they are, in fact, more reminiscent of Clementi, Cramer, Moscheles, or Czerny’s piano writing.
A very significant breakthrough in Liszt’s compositional and concert career occurred in the 1830s, when he first heard Paganini perform in Paris. The level of astonishment provoked by the Italian violinist was well summarized in one of Liszt’s letters:
For a whole fortnight my mind and my fingers have been working like two lost souls....In addition, I practice four to five hours a day of exercises (thirds, sixths, octaves, tremolos, repetition of notes, cadenzas, etc.). Ah! Provided I don’t go mad, you will find in me an artist!
Paganini’s “demonic” virtuosity is unquestionably reflected in all of the astounding technical escalations manifested in Liszt’s new Grandes Études from 1838; indeed, every resource in the realm of piano technique gets fully exploited to the limits of human possibilities. However, this oversaturated display of virtuosity somewhat backfired, as far as the aesthetic content of these particular works was concerned. Apart from the fact that only Liszt himself could perform them, it is, in retrospect, as if the overabundance of pianistic pyrotechnics exhibited in these Etudes had actually obscured their musical worth.
A review of the newly published Grandes Études by no less than Robert Schumann earned them the distinction of “Etudes of storm and dread, for at most ten or twelve players in the world.” In the same publication, On Music and Musicians, Schumann goes on to opine that Liszt’s exaggerated virtuosity may have proved detrimental to his evolution as a composer. He adds that “the original simplicity which is natural to the first flow of youthful talent is almost entirely suppressed in the present form of the work.”
Whether one agrees or not with the latter statement, Schumann’s advice to Liszt that he “must subject his compositions to a reverse process––must simplify rather than render them more weighty,” is of great relevance to the Grandes Études’ final revision in 1851, published a year later under the title Études d’exécution transcendante.
This final version of these Etudes reflects very significant changes in Liszt’s artistic life, his official retirement from the concert stage four years earlier being one of them. Without a doubt, the Études d’exécution transcendante are a refinement of the Grandes Études, so much so that Liszt thereafter wanted to completely disassociate himself from the latter. The fact that Liszt’s Études d’exécution transcendante came to life during the so-called “Weimar Years” (often referred to as the period of the composer’s maturity) was not a mere coincidence; it was as if Liszt felt he had to redeem himself, somehow, from the criticism he’d received during his “virtuoso years,” thus proving to the world he could write as a master composer.
The Transcendental Etudes well embody some of the most significant traits of Liszt’s prolific “Weimar” period: the quest for new aesthetics of sound; an evident simplification of textures (as suggested by Schumann); and a stronger-than-ever penchant for programmatic elements derived from literature, nature, and the visual arts. Liszt also brought a new, truly poetic dimension to these Etudes by adding highly evocative titles to ten of them.
Some of the Transcendental Etudes evoke nature in its idyllic beauty and fierceness (i.e., “Paysage” and “Chasse-neige,” respectively); mythological figures (“Wilde jagd”); legends/heroes (“Mazeppa,” as portrayed in Victor Hugo’s Les Orientales, or “Vision,” believed to represent Napoleon’s funeral procession); ghostly phenomena (“Feux follets”); while others evince more harmonic lushness and lyricism (“Ricordanza” and “Harmonies du soir”).
As the word “Transcendental” implies, Liszt is more concerned with tailoring the étude art form to the drama and visionary content each piece represents, rather than limiting it to a given technical aspect; he uses the latter more as a point of departure. Each of his Transcendental Etudes, in fact, becomes like a “tone poem.” Even the first Etude, “Preludio,” is hardly a “warm up” piece to plunge into the cycle, but rather a work with a full narrative arch––despite its being less than a minute long! The later Etudes, with their more poetically descriptive titles, are undoubtedly more elaborate in their form and harmonic language.
Whether or not Liszt may have conceived the 12 Transcendental Etudes to be performed as a cycle, their programmatic elements, along with the intricacy of some of their narratives, could give one almost the sense of an entire opera’s being performed at the piano! After all, it was Liszt who had invented the modern piano recital. In any event, what seems clear is that Liszt chose to eschew conventional didactics and craft highly evolved concert pieces designed to evoke deep emotions in his listeners.
– Sandro Russo
