June 1, 2015.Années de Pèlerinage: Troisième Année.In the last several months we published short articles about the first two volumes of Franz Liszt’s Années de pèlerinage: Year One, Switzerland (Première année: Suisse), here, and Year Two, Italy (Deuxième année: Italie)here.Today we’ll continue with the third year, (Troisième année).Probably not as popular, or at least not as often performed as the first two sections, it demonstrates the depth and unparalleled sonorities of Liszt’s late works.We will illustrate each of the seven pieces with performances by Aldo Ciccolini, recorded in 1961.Ciccolini died exactly four months ago, on February 1st, 2015; he was 89.Ciccolini, who was born in Naples into a titled family, became a French citizen in 1969.His was a famous interpreter of the music of his adopted country – Debussy, Ravel, Saint-Saëns, and especially Satie, but he also recorded all piano sonatas of Beethoven, music of Albeniz, Chopin, Bach, Scarlatti, – more than 50 LPs and CDs altogether.A brilliant virtuoso, he was a powerful but sensitive interpreter of Liszt’s music.For many years Ciccolini taught at the Paris Conservatory (Jean-Yves Thibaudet was a pupil).His last recording, featuring piano sonatas by Mozart and Muzio Clementi, was made when Ciccolini was 85.(The photo portrait of Liszt, above, was made in 1867).♫
Années de Pèlerinage: Troisième Année
In 1883, three years before Liszt’s death, the third and final volume of Années de Pèlerinage was published. Unlike it companions, which were musical travelogues of Liszt’s journeys throughout Switzerland and Italy, the third volume bore no subtitle to reveal the source of its inspiration (though four of its pieces still drew their inspiration from landmarks in Italy). Instead, Troisième Année is strikingly different from the previous two volumes. While still remaining technically challenging, many of the pieces are far removed from the virtuosic showpieces Liszt produced in his youth. These pieces were intensely personal creations. Liszt was certainly aware of this fact, and even warned his publisher not to expect this third volume to be as commercially successful as its predecessors. On the whole, Liszt was correct and Troisième Année failed to impress audiences. Today, along with the rest of Années de pèlerinage, it is considered one of Liszt’s masterpieces. (Continue reading here)
The majority of the pieces of Troisième Année were composed in 1877. Two, however, were composed earlier: Marche funèbre in 1867, and Sunt lacrymae rerum in 1872. Nonetheless, all the pieces date from Liszt’s late period, in which he delved into a curious exploration of harmonic and textural effects that foreshadowed the techniques of the Impressionists and other early 20th century composers. Liszt also turned more towards a spiritual life in his later years, perhaps as a response to the growing sadness in his life.In 1859, he suffered the loss of his son, Daniel, then three years later his daughter Blandine also died. Stricken with the grief at the death of two of his children, Liszt initially receded from public life, and in June 1863, took up residence in a small apartment at the monastery Madonna del Rosario outside Rome. During these years, Liszt turned towards a pious life. He had already joined the Third Order of St. Francis in 1857, and in 1865 he further received the minor orders of porter, lector, exorcist, and acolyte, as well as the tonsure from Cardinal Hohenlohe. In these years, his compositions and musical activities took on a definite religious tone. He took a modest part in Rome’s musical life where, on occasion, he directed performances of religious works by Palestrina, Bach, Haydn, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and himself. In 1869, Liszt was drawn out of seclusion by an offer to teach masterclasses in Weimar. Two years later, he received a similar offer in Budapest. For the remainder of his life, he traveled constantly between Rome and the two cities, a rather astonishing feat given the quality of rail travel in those days and Liszt’s advanced age. Liszt likely felt a pilgrim during these years, certainly from his frequent travel, but also, and more importantly, in a spiritual sense. Thus, in the final volume, Années de pèlerinage ceased to a reflection of physical landmarks or works of art, but instead of a reflection of Liszt himself on the physical, musical, and spiritual journey of his last years.
Angélus! Prière aux Anges Gardiens (Angelus! Prayer to the Guardian Angels, here), the opening piece of the set, Liszt dedicated to his granddaughter, Daniela von Bülow, the first daughter of Hans von Bülow and Cosima Liszt. It takes its name from the Angelus bells, which Liszt would have heard while in Rome. Indeed, the quiet and slowly oscillating tones of the introduction, specifically marked to be played una corda, certainly mimic the clangor of distant bells. Once the bells have faded away into faint echoes, the principal theme of the piece appears—a glowing E major tune full of pious devotion—against sustained chords underneath. The first part of the theme, which ascends through the tones of the tonic chord from B to G-sharp then glides gently back down, is set against tonic and dominant chords. The latter part introduces the motif of a stepwise third, first descending, then ascending, against chromatic harmonies. Liszt modestly develops the theme, intertwining its component motives and ultimately departing from the original E major tonality. One particular element taken from the theme—a turn-like figure—becomes the basis for a sequential passage, and leads into a delicate melodic idea featuring a grace-note on the second beat of the measure. Following a full-voiced, fortissimo return of the theme, the “bells” of the introduction are reprised as the piece nears its close. The theme in its entirety is avoided during the closing section, and its opening ascent is held off until the final bars, where it is given quietly and unadorned.
The following two pieces, Aux Cyprès de la Villa d’Este: Thrénodie I & II, were inspired by the cypress trees of the Villa d’Este in Tivoli, near Rome, Italy. Like many of the gloomy works of Liszt’s later period, the trees are here represented by mournful elegies. The first (here) opens ominously in G minor, though the key is at first obscured by the diminished fourths of the bass. Yet, this interval, which later reveals itself to be part of an augmented triad, is a key feature of the work. The introduction, then, settles upon the dominant chord, but even then, Liszt maintains a sense of instability by fluctuating between F-sharp and F-natural beneath the open fifths in the treble. With such a dejected air established, the principal theme emerges, forte and especially marked to be played well-accented, against a slow, chromatically descending bass line. Once completed, the melody begins anew, but now piano and accompanied by broken chords and a new bass line. Soon, however, the melody begins to change, and slowly builds into a terrifying climax. Against ghastly tremolandi in the bass, the head motif of the theme is repeated until giving way to a passage of poignant tritones and augmented sixths. Eventually the music subsides onto the dominant of E minor. The next melodic phrase begins in that key, though quickly moves into G major. Liszt continues his thematic development, culminating in a moving passage of chromatically descending harmonies. In the final measures, the music seems to turn heavenward with harp-like chords against resonant chords in the instrument’s middle to low register. Attaining a radiant C major chord, the music glides down, periodically inflected with a borrowed E-flat from the minor mode, until coming to the final cadence in G major.
The second Thrénodie (here) opens with an accented motif—a descending fifth followed by a labored ascent through the interval of a third—against harmonies reminiscent of Wagner’s Tristan. In the grim key of E minor, the piece’s introduction dwells morosely upon this idea and a varied form in which the opening fifth is transformed into a tritone. The mood is, at first, hardly lifted with the arrival of a new melodic idea in D-flat major, as Liszt favors its doleful, chromatic ending, repeating each time it appears. However, following its close, the theme immediately reappears in the key of B-flat major, where it is transformed into a quasi-march of dignified reverence. This ushers in the piece’s central episode. In the brilliant key of F-sharp major, glistening arpeggios presage a warm, affectionate melody given in the piano’s upper register, supported by a rich accompaniment of broken chords. Following the melody’s close in the key of the dominant, the opening motif returns against an unsettled chromatic figure and, a little later, a fragment taken from the F-sharp melody. Ultimately, the heavenly theme ushers in with little warning a reprise of the earlier D-flat major theme, now in the bass and against tremolandi. However, just as before, it reappears immediately in its march-like form, and, despite appearances of the grim opening motif, returns the listener to the blissful music of the central episode. Now in E major, the music begins to slowly ebb on harp-like chords. To close the piece, Liszt gives a final statement of the opening motif, now unaccompanied and pianissimo, ending optimistically on a G-sharp.
Starkly contrasted to the works which have followed, Les Jeux d’Eau à la Villa d’Este (here) suddenly places the listener before the famous fountains of the Villa d’Este in an astonishing foreshadowing of the Impressionist movement. It is the most well-known piece in Troisième Année. Glistening, upward arpeggios open the work and lead into brilliant tremolandi, beneath which a distinctive, lyrical melody eventually emerges. As the piece progresses, Liszt applies a spiritual significance to the imagery of water and the Villa d’Este fountains. A bell-like melody appears inscribed with a passage taken from the Gospel of John: “Sed aqua quam ego dabo ei, fiet in eo fons aquae salientis in vitam aeternam” (“But the water that I shall give him shall become in him a well of water springing up into eternal life”). Seemlessly, the bell-like melody gives way to the lyrical melody heard earlier, which briefly turns itself into a two-part canon. Building off of this contrapuntal energy, the section culminates in a cascade of descending octaves before transitioning into the music of the opening. The ascending arpeggios, however, are now altered to accommodate accented bell-tones, which maintain the religious imagery. Briefly and only in part, the lyrical is reprised as the bell-like melody becomes the prominent feature of the closing measures.
The mood turns dark and somber once again in Sunt Lacrymae Rerum (There are Tears for Things, here). The title comes from a line in Virgil’s epic poem on the founding of Rome, Aeneid.A refugee in Carthage, Aeneas comes upon a mural in the Temple of Juno, depicting scenes from the Trojan War. Looking on the deaths of his friends and countrymen he had once fought beside, he cries out: “Sunt hic etiam sua praemia laudi;/ sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt. / Solve metus; feret haec aliquam tibi fama salutem.” (“Here, too, the praiseworthy has its rewards; / there are tears for things and mortal things touch the mind. / Release your fear; this fame will bring you some safety.”) For Liszt, Aeneas’s cry became associated with Hungary’s failed attempts at independence in 1848-49. The tone of the piece, which he subtitled “In the Hungarian Mode,” is tragic, yet ever defiant. The opening gestures, given fortissimo and in bear octaves, are laden with grief, falling each time further into the low register of the piano. The plaintive melody that follows is marked to be played even slower, and is sparsely accompanied with isolated chords. However, just as Aeneas ultimately found solace in the mural, Liszt, too, finds a source of hope and optimism. A brighter melody emerges with an A-flat major melody, centered on an expectant ascending third. The piece toils onward, though not gains strength from the glimmer of hope. The A-flat melody returns later in the key of A major, permeating the final bars with a sense of optimism amidst the seemingly endless struggle.
Even more somber is the March Funèbre (Funeral March, here), the sixth piece of the collection, written in memory of Emperor Maximilian I of Mexico, brother of Franz Josef I. Maximilian, with the aid of Napoleon III, declared himself emperor of Mexico in 1864. Three years later, however, he was overthrown and executed by revolutionaries. On of Liszt’s darkest creations, it opens heavily and grief-laden as a chromatically ascending line is hammered out against stark octaves and a semitone tremolo. Once the introduction comes to an end, a lugubrious accompaniment, dolefully climbing the interval of a minor third, commences on a martial rhythm. After two measures, a somber melody begins to turn its way about the dominant, clashing in strident discords against the accompaniment, but which ultimately dissipates into a dejected monophonic line. A repetition of the melody a minor third higher leads into the central portion of the piece. The mood turns more reverent as an espressivo melody in F-sharp major, given in a recitative-like manner, becomes the focus of the succeeding measures. As this section draws to a close, the music begins a lengthy crescendo against tremolandi in the bass, after which the espressivo melody then returns transformed into a triumphant fanfare to close the piece.
To close Troisième Année, and the entirety of the Années de Pèlerinage, Liszt chose the triumphal Sursum Corda (Lift Up Your Hearts, here), the preface of the Anaphora, which dates back to the third century and is the oldest part of the Christian liturgy. Marked Andante maestoso and in the key of E major, it opens quietly with two measures of the dominant sounded on a pulsating eighth-note rhythm. In the third measure, the principal theme appears—beginning likewise on the dominant but then surging upward through a leap of a minor seventh. By the time the theme recommences in the ninth measure, the stage is set. The pulsating rhythm becomes immovably grounded upon the tonic of E, a musical expression of unwavering faith. Now accompanied by full-voiced chords, the melody rings out in the treble and is greatly embellished. Through this embellishment, which not surprisingly introduces distant chromatic harmonies, Liszt recalls the struggles which have preceded this final triumphal declaration. The music continues to grow towards its eventual climax. Yet, even as the melody slips into the key of B-flat and D-flat major, the pedal point upon E remains unshakeable. Ultimately, it is the pedal point that wins, and through a deftly handled modulation the music returns to E major for a colossal restatement of the theme in the tonic key. After climbing high into the piano’s upper register and then descending again, fragments of the theme appear in bare octaves. For the first time, the tonic pedal is broken. Yet, it resumes in the last measures as a vigorous tremolo, underpinning the triumphal and heavenly final cadence that brings the piece to a close.
Années de Pèlerinage: Troisième Année (2015)
June 1, 2015. Années de Pèlerinage: Troisième Année. In the last several months we published short articles about the first two volumes of Franz Liszt’s Années de pèlerinage: Year One, Switzerland (Première année: Suisse), here, and Year Two, Italy (Deuxième
année: Italie) here. Today we’ll continue with the third year, (Troisième année). Probably not as popular, or at least not as often performed as the first two sections, it demonstrates the depth and unparalleled sonorities of Liszt’s late works. We will illustrate each of the seven pieces with performances by Aldo Ciccolini, recorded in 1961. Ciccolini died exactly four months ago, on February 1st, 2015; he was 89. Ciccolini, who was born in Naples into a titled family, became a French citizen in 1969. His was a famous interpreter of the music of his adopted country – Debussy, Ravel, Saint-Saëns, and especially Satie, but he also recorded all piano sonatas of Beethoven, music of Albeniz, Chopin, Bach, Scarlatti, – more than 50 LPs and CDs altogether. A brilliant virtuoso, he was a powerful but sensitive interpreter of Liszt’s music. For many years Ciccolini taught at the Paris Conservatory (Jean-Yves Thibaudet was a pupil). His last recording, featuring piano sonatas by Mozart and Muzio Clementi, was made when Ciccolini was 85. (The photo portrait of Liszt, above, was made in 1867). ♫
Années de Pèlerinage: Troisième Année
In 1883, three years before Liszt’s death, the third and final volume of Années de Pèlerinage was published. Unlike it companions, which were musical travelogues of Liszt’s journeys throughout Switzerland and Italy, the third volume bore no subtitle to reveal the source of its inspiration (though four of its pieces still drew their inspiration from landmarks in Italy). Instead, Troisième Année is strikingly different from the previous two volumes. While still remaining technically challenging, many of the pieces are far removed from the virtuosic showpieces Liszt produced in his youth. These pieces were intensely personal creations. Liszt was certainly aware of this fact, and even warned his publisher not to expect this third volume to be as commercially successful as its predecessors. On the whole, Liszt was correct and Troisième Année failed to impress audiences. Today, along with the rest of Années de pèlerinage, it is considered one of Liszt’s masterpieces. (Continue reading here)
The majority of the pieces of Troisième Année were composed in 1877. Two, however, were composed earlier: Marche funèbre in 1867, and Sunt lacrymae rerum in 1872. Nonetheless, all the pieces date from Liszt’s late period, in which he delved into a curious exploration of harmonic and textural effects that foreshadowed the techniques of the Impressionists and other early 20th century composers. Liszt also turned more towards a spiritual life in his later years, perhaps as a response to the growing sadness in his life. In 1859, he suffered the loss of his son, Daniel, then three years later his daughter Blandine also died. Stricken with the grief at the death of two of his children, Liszt initially receded from public life, and in June 1863, took up residence in a small apartment at the monastery Madonna del Rosario outside Rome. During these years, Liszt turned towards a pious life. He had already joined the Third Order of St. Francis in 1857, and in 1865 he further received the minor orders of porter, lector, exorcist, and acolyte, as well as the tonsure from Cardinal Hohenlohe. In these years, his compositions and musical activities took on a definite religious tone. He took a modest part in Rome’s musical life where, on occasion, he directed performances of religious works by Palestrina, Bach, Haydn, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and himself. In 1869, Liszt was drawn out of seclusion by an offer to teach masterclasses in Weimar. Two years later, he received a similar offer in Budapest. For the remainder of his life, he traveled constantly between Rome and the two cities, a rather astonishing feat given the quality of rail travel in those days and Liszt’s advanced age. Liszt likely felt a pilgrim during these years, certainly from his frequent travel, but also, and more importantly, in a spiritual sense. Thus, in the final volume, Années de pèlerinage ceased to a reflection of physical landmarks or works of art, but instead of a reflection of Liszt himself on the physical, musical, and spiritual journey of his last years.
Angélus! Prière aux Anges Gardiens (Angelus! Prayer to the Guardian Angels, here), the opening piece of the set, Liszt dedicated to his granddaughter, Daniela von Bülow, the first daughter of Hans von Bülow and Cosima Liszt. It takes its name from the Angelus bells, which Liszt would have heard while in Rome. Indeed, the quiet and slowly oscillating tones of the introduction, specifically marked to be played una corda, certainly mimic the clangor of distant bells. Once the bells have faded away into faint echoes, the principal theme of the piece appears—a glowing E major tune full of pious devotion—against sustained chords underneath. The first part of the theme, which ascends through the tones of the tonic chord from B to G-sharp then glides gently back down, is set against tonic and dominant chords. The latter part introduces the motif of a stepwise third, first descending, then ascending, against chromatic harmonies. Liszt modestly develops the theme, intertwining its component motives and ultimately departing from the original E major tonality. One particular element taken from the theme—a turn-like figure—becomes the basis for a sequential passage, and leads into a delicate melodic idea featuring a grace-note on the second beat of the measure. Following a full-voiced, fortissimo return of the theme, the “bells” of the introduction are reprised as the piece nears its close. The theme in its entirety is avoided during the closing section, and its opening ascent is held off until the final bars, where it is given quietly and unadorned.
The following two pieces, Aux Cyprès de la Villa d’Este: Thrénodie I & II, were inspired by the cypress trees of the Villa d’Este in Tivoli, near Rome, Italy. Like many of the gloomy works of Liszt’s later period, the trees are here represented by mournful elegies. The first (here) opens ominously in G minor, though the key is at first obscured by the diminished fourths of the bass. Yet, this interval, which later reveals itself to be part of an augmented triad, is a key feature of the work. The introduction, then, settles upon the dominant chord, but even then, Liszt maintains a sense of instability by fluctuating between F-sharp and F-natural beneath the open fifths in the treble. With such a dejected air established, the principal theme emerges, forte and especially marked to be played well-accented, against a slow, chromatically descending bass line. Once completed, the melody begins anew, but now piano and accompanied by broken chords and a new bass line. Soon, however, the melody begins to change, and slowly builds into a terrifying climax. Against ghastly tremolandi in the bass, the head motif of the theme is repeated until giving way to a passage of poignant tritones and augmented sixths. Eventually the music subsides onto the dominant of E minor. The next melodic phrase begins in that key, though quickly moves into G major. Liszt continues his thematic development, culminating in a moving passage of chromatically descending harmonies. In the final measures, the music seems to turn heavenward with harp-like chords against resonant chords in the instrument’s middle to low register. Attaining a radiant C major chord, the music glides down, periodically inflected with a borrowed E-flat from the minor mode, until coming to the final cadence in G major.
The second Thrénodie (here) opens with an accented motif—a descending fifth followed by a labored ascent through the interval of a third—against harmonies reminiscent of Wagner’s Tristan. In the grim key of E minor, the piece’s introduction dwells morosely upon this idea and a varied form in which the opening fifth is transformed into a tritone. The mood is, at first, hardly lifted with the arrival of a new melodic idea in D-flat major, as Liszt favors its doleful, chromatic ending, repeating each time it appears. However, following its close, the theme immediately reappears in the key of B-flat major, where it is transformed into a quasi-march of dignified reverence. This ushers in the piece’s central episode. In the brilliant key of F-sharp major, glistening arpeggios presage a warm, affectionate melody given in the piano’s upper register, supported by a rich accompaniment of broken chords. Following the melody’s close in the key of the dominant, the opening motif returns against an unsettled chromatic figure and, a little later, a fragment taken from the F-sharp melody. Ultimately, the heavenly theme ushers in with little warning a reprise of the earlier D-flat major theme, now in the bass and against tremolandi. However, just as before, it reappears immediately in its march-like form, and, despite appearances of the grim opening motif, returns the listener to the blissful music of the central episode. Now in E major, the music begins to slowly ebb on harp-like chords. To close the piece, Liszt gives a final statement of the opening motif, now unaccompanied and pianissimo, ending optimistically on a G-sharp.
Starkly contrasted to the works which have followed, Les Jeux d’Eau à la Villa d’Este (here) suddenly places the listener before the famous fountains of the Villa d’Este in an astonishing foreshadowing of the Impressionist movement. It is the most well-known piece in Troisième Année. Glistening, upward arpeggios open the work and lead into brilliant tremolandi, beneath which a distinctive, lyrical melody eventually emerges. As the piece progresses, Liszt applies a spiritual significance to the imagery of water and the Villa d’Este fountains. A bell-like melody appears inscribed with a passage taken from the Gospel of John: “Sed aqua quam ego dabo ei, fiet in eo fons aquae salientis in vitam aeternam” (“But the water that I shall give him shall become in him a well of water springing up into eternal life”). Seemlessly, the bell-like melody gives way to the lyrical melody heard earlier, which briefly turns itself into a two-part canon. Building off of this contrapuntal energy, the section culminates in a cascade of descending octaves before transitioning into the music of the opening. The ascending arpeggios, however, are now altered to accommodate accented bell-tones, which maintain the religious imagery. Briefly and only in part, the lyrical is reprised as the bell-like melody becomes the prominent feature of the closing measures.
The mood turns dark and somber once again in Sunt Lacrymae Rerum (There are Tears for Things, here). The title comes from a line in Virgil’s epic poem on the founding of Rome, Aeneid. A refugee in Carthage, Aeneas comes upon a mural in the Temple of Juno, depicting scenes from the Trojan War. Looking on the deaths of his friends and countrymen he had once fought beside, he cries out: “Sunt hic etiam sua praemia laudi;/ sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt. / Solve metus; feret haec aliquam tibi fama salutem.” (“Here, too, the praiseworthy has its rewards; / there are tears for things and mortal things touch the mind. / Release your fear; this fame will bring you some safety.”) For Liszt, Aeneas’s cry became associated with Hungary’s failed attempts at independence in 1848-49. The tone of the piece, which he subtitled “In the Hungarian Mode,” is tragic, yet ever defiant. The opening gestures, given fortissimo and in bear octaves, are laden with grief, falling each time further into the low register of the piano. The plaintive melody that follows is marked to be played even slower, and is sparsely accompanied with isolated chords. However, just as Aeneas ultimately found solace in the mural, Liszt, too, finds a source of hope and optimism. A brighter melody emerges with an A-flat major melody, centered on an expectant ascending third. The piece toils onward, though not gains strength from the glimmer of hope. The A-flat melody returns later in the key of A major, permeating the final bars with a sense of optimism amidst the seemingly endless struggle.
Even more somber is the March Funèbre (Funeral March, here), the sixth piece of the collection, written in memory of Emperor Maximilian I of Mexico, brother of Franz Josef I. Maximilian, with the aid of Napoleon III, declared himself emperor of Mexico in 1864. Three years later, however, he was overthrown and executed by revolutionaries. On of Liszt’s darkest creations, it opens heavily and grief-laden as a chromatically ascending line is hammered out against stark octaves and a semitone tremolo. Once the introduction comes to an end, a lugubrious accompaniment, dolefully climbing the interval of a minor third, commences on a martial rhythm. After two measures, a somber melody begins to turn its way about the dominant, clashing in strident discords against the accompaniment, but which ultimately dissipates into a dejected monophonic line. A repetition of the melody a minor third higher leads into the central portion of the piece. The mood turns more reverent as an espressivo melody in F-sharp major, given in a recitative-like manner, becomes the focus of the succeeding measures. As this section draws to a close, the music begins a lengthy crescendo against tremolandi in the bass, after which the espressivo melody then returns transformed into a triumphant fanfare to close the piece.
To close Troisième Année, and the entirety of the Années de Pèlerinage, Liszt chose the triumphal Sursum Corda (Lift Up Your Hearts, here), the preface of the Anaphora, which dates back to the third century and is the oldest part of the Christian liturgy. Marked Andante maestoso and in the key of E major, it opens quietly with two measures of the dominant sounded on a pulsating eighth-note rhythm. In the third measure, the principal theme appears—beginning likewise on the dominant but then surging upward through a leap of a minor seventh. By the time the theme recommences in the ninth measure, the stage is set. The pulsating rhythm becomes immovably grounded upon the tonic of E, a musical expression of unwavering faith. Now accompanied by full-voiced chords, the melody rings out in the treble and is greatly embellished. Through this embellishment, which not surprisingly introduces distant chromatic harmonies, Liszt recalls the struggles which have preceded this final triumphal declaration. The music continues to grow towards its eventual climax. Yet, even as the melody slips into the key of B-flat and D-flat major, the pedal point upon E remains unshakeable. Ultimately, it is the pedal point that wins, and through a deftly handled modulation the music returns to E major for a colossal restatement of the theme in the tonic key. After climbing high into the piano’s upper register and then descending again, fragments of the theme appear in bare octaves. For the first time, the tonic pedal is broken. Yet, it resumes in the last measures as a vigorous tremolo, underpinning the triumphal and heavenly final cadence that brings the piece to a close.