[MUSIC] Here's an interesting image. It's a painting done in 1840, by Josef Danhauser. In it we see all the artistic luminaries of the 19th century. A portrait of Lord George Byron was on the wall. Well, he was dead by 1840. That's why you have a painting of Byron. Here he is, up here. And then, arm in arm, the composer, Rossini, next to the violin virtuoso, Niccolo Pioneer. Standing over here the great French poet of the 19th Century, Victor Hugo. Seated here, we have Alexander Dumas Père, author of the novel The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. Over to his left is Chopin's paramour, Aurore Dudevant. Who worked under the name of George Sand, George Sand, the author of numerous, highly successful, popular novels. She, of course, had to take a nom de plume because it was difficult for any woman to get any attention as an artist in the 19th century. Always smoking cigars, as was her want. Down here in supine position, we have Marie Dagul, author of seven important books on French history. She, too, had to write under a nom de plume, Daniel Stern, in that case. Up here, on top of the piano, an overly large bust of Beethoven who looks down on the assembly from Olympian heights. Beethoven was the artistic figure who dominated in the 19th century. All of these great artists look reverentially, in silence, upon Beethoven, and none less so than Franz Liszt, seated at the piano, the greatest pianist, pianist, of the day, and look at the enormous size of his hands here. So there they all were. Well, actually they all weren't. These individuals never came together for this portrait. They were just painted in from other images. In modern parlance, this whole things was Photoshopped. What was it, then? Well, it was a marketing ploy, effected by a piano manufacturer, one of the many then working in Vienna, one Conrad Graf. The painting, as we said, was a marketing tool of the sort that we have today. If Derek Jeter or Roger Federer wear a Movado watch, you should, too. If Franz Liszt plays a Graf piano, you should, too. So, go out and buy one. Enjoy it. Choosing Liszt as the poster boy for the piano was clever salesmanship, for no one was better known as a virtuoso pianist in the 19th century than Franz Liszt. He was a towering figure. He had movie star good looks, and he always liked to be painted showing the right side of his face because he had a large mole on the left side. And he was the rock star of the nineteenth century. Three thousand, mostly women, would crowd into the newly enlarged concert hall to hear him play all across Europe. We once had Beatlemania in the 1960s, but the use of the term artist's name plus mania was first coined back in the 1840s by the German poet and reclaimed it for Liszt. Lisztomania it was called. Women fought for a lock of his hair. For a torn away part of his velvet gloves. They threw flowers at him on the stage. Through his public performances, Liszt established the piano recital as we know it today. Liszt was the person who actually coined the term, recital. It was a poetic recitation in music and by Liszt alone. Up to that time a solo artist would have to share a program with other performers. You'd think you got cheated if more than one, only one showed up. Liszt was also the first to turn the piano. At right angles to the stage, again possible because he favored his right side. Anyway, it was quite a show, and Liszt lived life large. I could go on and on. It's really a fascinating life of a flamboyant figure and a great artist. And oh, did I mention that later in life, after many mistresses on many continents. Bougival Lizst took holy orders and lived in the Vatican for a while. I'm not making this up. And styled himself as Abby Liszt. And here we see Abby Lizst later in life in saucerdoodle dress playing for a large well-to-do group. Maybe with an emperor and his son in the front row, I can't be sure. But what I can be sure of is that the piano he was playing is a Viennese Bösendorfer because the name is right there above the keyboard. We saw a Bösendorfer in the Yale collection earlier on in this session. And again, the adoring crowr, crowd here has thrown flowers at his feet. But if Liszt had a choice, especially when he was in France or England, he preferred and Erard piano of the sort that we have seen before. And here's an instrument with a history. Remember, we said that, earlier on in our session, we said that the two most innovative companies or piano manufacturing at this time were not in Europe but in America. One was Steinway in New York. The other is Chickering in Boston. And just as manufacturer Conrad Graf did a bit of celebrity marketing with Liszt, so too did the American firm Chickering. Chickering shipped this gigantic grand piano, concert grand nine feet long as you can see there, all the way to the Vatican where Liszt was living for a while in the 1860s. And then over the Alps to Hungary, to Liszt's home in Budapest. And here's where it rests today, in Pest. A massive state of the art. And grand piano in every way. Well, what did Liszt write for the piano. Well, he wrote Hungarian Rhapsodies and transcriptions for the piano, such as we saw with regard to Schubert's Erlking, Liszt transcribed this into a piano-only arrangement. And we have the studies, the transcendatal transcendental etudes, and the concert etudes. So, what's an etude? That's a study. Etude is a piece with the aim to improve someone's technique through practice the particular aspect of performance to teach, well, maybe how to play a chromatic scale very, very rapidly. Or to keep your hands together while leaping up and down in octaves and not miss any notes. Or play an arpeggio with just the left hand alone whatever. Maybe your mother made you practice etudes or studies of Clementi or perhaps Cramer when you were a fledgeling young pianist. As a youngster. Well, there's an irony here with Lizst etudes. They're so difficult that you have to already be a virtuoso to play the etudes that would allow you to become a virtuoso. Lizst etudes are really no help at all to those wishing to learn how to play the piano. Only a dozen or so people on the planet Earth, as Robert Schumann famously commented, could actually play these etudes by Liszt. They were of transcendent, transcendental difficulty. Let's give a listen to just one of the transcendental etudes by Liszt. One entitled Wild Hunt. Don't try this at home kids. [MUSIC] Now, of course, almost every successful public figure is likely to be the object of cartoons and caricature at one time or another. And Liszt was no exception. Piano player, as we see here, or was he piano slayer? But one thing that such images seem to have in common is this, that Liszt appeared to have more than just two hands. And critics referred to his three-hand trick. He could keep a bass and soprano going, but somehow fill the melody in in the middle with another, third, hand. Now, while all this might seem like just pure showmanship, technical razzle dazzle of the most superficial sort, don't sell Liszt short here. Sometimes, there is extraordinary artistry, far-seeing artistry, in his music. I want to end this session with a bit of Liszt's etude, called Un Sospiro, a sigh. And it does have, in the midst of all the technical virtuosity, the loveliest, sort of sigh-like melody. But it's the end that impresses me the most. There are some bizarre chordal shifts involving a tritone. Let me see if I can play just one of these. [MUSIC] That's a strange relationship. And this Etude concludes with a core progression of the sort that no one else was writing it this time. The kind of rich harmonic sound that will only become commonplace 50 years later. Liszt was not only a showman, he was a visionary. [MUSIC] Harmonic shift. [MUSIC]
