5. Conclusions: a universal program and a “leading thought” throughout the piece
After having posed the Liszt’s Sonata programs’ question, and after an analysis of two of different programmatic interpretations of this enigmatic piece, it is time to try to give an answer to this question: What is the true program of Liszt’s Sonata?
5.1 An all-embracing program
As for the best ones, it is impossible to unequivocally answer this question too: as I already said, Liszt doesn’t leave any clear statement about the program of his Sonata. Liszt only leaves clues through his letters, talking especially about religious concepts related to Bible and Paradise Lost. But, as we saw in 2.3, there is for sure a relationship between the Sonata and the Faust Symphony, and so a connection to Goethe’s Faust.
In my opinion, Leszek Polony partially understood a solution to this problem saying in his article:
“[…] Goethe’s Faust, irrespective of the Renaissance sources of the myth, can be seen as a hypertext to Milton’s Paradise Lost, itself a hypertext of sorts to its own archetext, the Bible. Thus both interpretations of the Sonata, the Goethean and the Miltonian, or, in other words, the Faustian and the Luciferian, are parallel and complementary rather than rival. It is also highly probable that both have their impact on the genesis of the Sonata in B minor.”1
On my point of view, we could go even beyond the idea of limiting the interpretation of the Sonata to a single program: I believe that Liszt decided to combine multiple programs writing only one, big, brilliant Sonata permeated by a universal “leading thought” of which all these programs are only hypertexts. Of course, the fundamentals of this universal program are the Christian ones, being Liszt deeply a Christian believer.
I think that the Sonata wants to tell the story of every man, and his struggle for the salvation. The Man without God cannot fight the Devil’s temptations and can only give in to Sin. But, after Christ’s sacrifice and the Redemption of the Cross (that is the most important event of the History for a Christian), the Man has a new hope: with the help of Christ, he can be saved again, and the struggle continues until the Last Judgement, that will divide the ones who succeeded and the ones who didn’t.
From this perspective, all the possible programs just slot in like in a puzzle. If we look closer to Faust and Paradise Lost, we notice that there are a lot of common points and similarities. Of course, Paradise Lost is not a complete program for the Sonata, but it must be combined with the Bible and the History of Salvation to really make sense.
As Faust is a man that, to know God, agrees to sign a pact with the Devil, Adam is a man that, tempted by Satan with the knowledge of good and evil, commits the Original Sin. Both Faust and the Man seem definitively doomed, but they both have the possibility to be redeemed by Love though a sacrifice: Faust meets Gretchen who, sacrificing herself at the end of Act I, gives him a new hope for salvation, and the Man gets the same hope thanks to Christ’s sacrifice. After the sacrifice, they continue their struggle for salvation until the end: Faust is saved by the Love of Gretchen that frees him by Mephistopheles and brings him close to God; and the Man, at first fallen but redeemed after Christ’s Passion, is saved during the Last Judgment and he can reach again that “Paradise” he lost with the Original Sin and he regained with Christ’s Redemption (as for Milton, who wrote Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained, to be combined to have a complete vision of his work).
This different vision of the program of Liszt Sonata matches also Peter Raabe autobiographical interpretation. About Peter Raabe’s interpretation, Kenneth Hamilton says:
“[…] Peter Raabe, who contended that the Sonata was a musical autobiography, exploring the contradictory elements within Liszt himself, his triumphs and his disappointments, his loves and his hates.”2
For Raabe, the Sonata tells Liszt’s life, and this is consistent with the more general program: as for Faust and Milton’s Man, also Liszt is a man who fights with the Devil and the sin, hoping in the final salvation though Christ’s sacrifice. Since salvation is the biggest concern for a Christian as Liszt was, it is highly probable that Liszt saw himself in Faust and Adam, and their stories could become also his story, as it could be for anyone else.
In this vision, it is also clear for me why Liszt didn’t leave any direct reference to a specific program, and he just named his composition “Sonata”: since the program is more general, all-embracing and religiously philosophic, it had no sense declaring that the Sonata was inspired by Goethe’s Faust, Paradise Lost or his own life, because all these three interpretations are correct. The Sonata is about Man’s life, and this program doesn’t need any explanation, because everyone can understand it: Liszt’s Sonata is talking about each one of us. Therefore, the title could not be more precise or specific, but it must be so universal and all-embracing, as it is the concept at the base.
5.2 Interpretive suggestions
In light of this religious programmatic vision, I would like to propose a different interpretation of several passages of the Sonata, to achieve a better consistency with the “leading thought” at the base of the piece.
5.2.1 The beginning
The first seven bars of the piece are not an interpretive challenge only programmatically and symbolically, but also practically. As we know, here Liszt uses a lot of musical tools to deceive the listener for programmatic reasons, and the performer should be aware of them and pay the right attention without exaggerating. At first, the pianist should feel the missing strong beat and, emphasizing the off-beats, giving to the listener an impression of instability. The small wedges on the G pitches should not be intended as staccatissimo but rather marcato, imitating the timpani resonance, as said by Liszt himself and reported by August Stradal’s notes from Liszt’s classes:
“[This] must sound like a muffled beat of the timpani: one strikes the keys not, as usual, at the front, but at the very back, so that the leverage be smaller and the tone obtain a dark colour.”3
Talking about dark colour, the three G should not sound all the same, but the pianist should make more noticeable the lowest pitch to give a darker character and to prepare the 7th upwards leap at bars 2 and 5. Rather than the descending 2nd, the ascending 7th leap should be clear because it is a crucial symbolic gesture (Man’s hand reaching up toward the apple, Lucifer’s symbol reversed), and the pianist should keep audible the long G during the whole descending scale, almost like a tonic (but, in reality, only a 6th degree).
On Liszt's 19th century piano (Erard 1847), it is normal to have a bit of riverberation after each note, and this makes them more similar to small timpani blows naturally: on the modern piano this effect should be reproduced with small half-pedals on each note to avoid an exaggerated dryness of the sounds.
5.2.2 The Cross motif: the meaning of Grandioso and appassionato
The Cross motif comes back seven times during the piece, and its character should be clear from its meaning: it symbolizes Christ and the Cross. So, this theme should have a strong sense of holiness and it should be far from a Romantic passionate approach. Usually (Grandioso bars 105-119, but also bars 600-615 and 700-710), it should be big and majestic, giving the impression of a huge Wagnerian orchestra playing a Tutti section. The pianist should make clear the main theme and the bass octaves, using the repeated chords to give the impression of a sustained sound. The tempo should be regular, with no rubato and no accelerando: it should give the idea of the glory, the eternity and the imperturbability of God in the person of the Son, Christ. Last but not least, the pianist should make the listener understand clearly the change of tempo and, therefore, of meter (from a duple meter to a triple meter), because here Liszt changes completely the structure of the meter for symbolic reasons (as previously said, triple meter is symbol of God's perfection).
For sure, the sections from bar 297 to bar 306 and from bar 363 to bar 394 make an interesting exception: the interpretive approach of the Cross motif in these parts should be a bit different. Here Liszt symbolizes the Crucifixion and the Man’s Redemption through Christ’s sacrifice and Resurrection: therefore, in these sections Christ’s theme should keep its holiness, but it should have a strong human part too (in a Christian dogma, Jesus Christ is at the same time true God and true man, because he shares with the mankind the human nature in every part except for the sin). In bars 297-300 and 302-305, the music should represent the pain and the violence of the Crucifixion being, as written, “pesante” (heavy) and percussive (like hammer blows). In the Recitativo sections, the music should symbolize Christ’s laments on the Cross, and Liszt writes appassionato. This is an interesting interpretive problem, in my opinion generally misunderstood: appassionato should not mean, as usual, “passionate” and “rubato”, but it should be referred to Christ’s Passion, and therefore its meaning should rather be “painful” and “lamenting”. But, since it is Jesus Christ’s lamentation, there should be a certain dignity and solemnity too (“Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”4). This same character should be kept also for the section from bar 363 to bar 394.
5.2.3 The “circular” fugue
The “diabolic” fugue (Allegro energico, bars 460-530) is for sure vivid and unique element in Liszt’s Sonata (and, as seen, another important symbolic element). In the score, Liszt is already outspoken about how to approach the section: a short and staccato touch to have a dry, sharp and precise sound putting almost no pedal. As in all the fugues, the performer should particularly pay attention to the polyphonic structure of the passage, valorizing each voice.
However, considering the general programmatic philosophy behind the Sonata, I would like to suggest only to add a small detail in the interpretation of this fugue. As we saw, this section can be referred to the scene “Walpurgisnacht”5 from Goethe’s Faust, and, in the biblical interpretation, it symbolizes the return of the Devil and the Sin in the Man’s life after Christ’s Redemption. In both cases, it refers to a ”circular” element: in case of Faust, the witches’ sabbath is traditionally characterized by the image of ”circular” dances and rites, with repetitive litanies and formulas; and, philosophically, the sin is a circular condition of the mankind: since the flesh is weak, the Man cannot avoid to fall cyclically into the Sin. But, thanks to Christ’s sacrifice, he can receive forgiveness for his sins. Therefore, the condition of the Man after Christ’s Redemption is a circular repetition of Sin and Redemption, and, in my opinion, this fugue uses this constant circular structure to symbolize precisely the cyclic nature of the Sin. To be practical, the pianist should always be careful to play meaningfully (with this I mean having a complete awareness and control of every interval leap and the color of each note) not only the theme's entrances and repetitions, but also the "circular" and repetitive free parts formulas, because the cyclic nature of them is also highly symbolic.
5.2.4 The last bars
In Liszt’s Sonata, the most enigmatic elements of the entire piece appear at the beginning and at the end, making particularly difficult to face the first and the last bars. When Lento assai starts (barm 750), Liszt writes two descending scales that symbolize the damned souls’ sinking into the abyss of eternal damnation (c.f.r. 4.2), and, if the first scale don’t really solve, the second one finishes with a long and dark C. Quoting again by Stradal’s notes:
“The C in the bass must be held with the pedal until the B-major chord enters”6
Basically, while the redeemed souls ascend to the eternal Heaven (symbolized by the chords), the listener should be still able to listen to the damned souls at the bottom (the C kept with the pedal), waiting for the second death, symbolized by the last B octave in the bass. But is the apocalyptic second death truly the end of the piece?
Here Szász Tibor proposes an original and interesting interpretation of this last two elements of the Sonata (the 6/4 chord and the low B octave). Quoting from his article:
“Liszt did not, he could not, sustain the final 6/4 chord on the piano without a sostenuto pedal. But when he had the means to sustain the harmony he did so. Compare the Sonata’s ending with the first ending of the Dante Symphony’s Magnificat where the unresolved B major tonic 6/4 chord is held indefinitely until it etherealizes.
In view of Liszt’s orchestral solution for an essentially identical programmatic situation, the use of the sostenuto pedal is the modern pianistic device for expressing Liszt’s symbol of eternity which logically ends the Sonata. The application of the sostenuto pedal to sustain the final B major 6/4 chord would be in keeping with what Liszt wrote about his Requiem.
He said that he had found light, not darkness, for writing about death, a light that shines
“… in spite of the terrors of the Dies Irae.”
It is the light that illumines the final page of the Sonata.”7
In my opinion, Szász Tibor proposal to keep the 6/4 chord with the sustain pedal to make it etherealize after the last B is brave, but surely coherent with Liszt his other musical compositions and his religious philosophy in general. Moreover, another evidence to support this original intuition is that Liszt wrote two fermatas on the two last 6/4 chords and the final rests. As last proof, playing this passage on an Erard 1847 (19th century Liszt's piano) reveals that a slight reverberation of the 6/4 chord remains after the last B even without the sustain pedal (that doesn't exist on a 19th century piano) due to the not 100% efficient dampers (of course, this is evident when played live, less through a recording). So, I think that using the sustain pedal is also an efficient way to imitate the sound that such passage has if played on an historical piano.