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TRANSCRIPTIONS, PARAPHRASES, AND ARRANGEMENTS:
THE COMPOSITIONAL ART OF MORITZ M OSZKOW SKI
by
GILYA HODOS
A dissertation submitted to the Graduate Faculty in Music in partial fulfillment o f the

requirements for the degree o f Doctor o f Musical Arts, The City University o f New York.
2004
UMI N um ber: 3 1 1 5 2 5 6
Copyright 2004 by
Hodos, Gilya
All rights reserved.
UMI
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GILYA HODOS
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This manuscript has been read and accepted for the Graduate Faculty in Music in
satisfaction o f the dissertation requirement for the degree of Doctor o f Musical Arts.
?/o S sc-
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IV
Abstract
TRANSCRIPTIONS, PARAPHRASES, AND ARRANGEM ENTS:

THE COMPOSITIONAL ART OF MORITZ M OSZKOW SKI
by
» GILYA HODOS
Adviser: Professor Bruce C. MacIntyre
Although more or less forgotten by most musicians, M oritz Moszkowski (1854-1925)
was a celebrated composer, conductor, teacher, editor, and performer. This thesis seeks
to draw a thorough biographical sketch o f the composer as both a man and a musician
and to provide a general description o f his piano transcriptions, arrangements, and
paraphrases, as well as a detailed analysis o f three o f his virtuosic piano transcriptions.
An analysis o f M oszkowski’s standing among his peers is also presented. His often
under-appreciated achievements are documented in the musical journals o f his day,
including The Etude, The M usical Courier, The M usical Times, Musician, and The
Musical Standard. In addition, an examination o f M oszkowski’s more personal effects,
such as his marriage certificate and an oral history from surviving descendants, is
provided. His story begins with great promise and success, both as a pianist and
composer, but ends sadly in poverty and illness.
Chapter 1 presents an updated biography o f M oszkowski, and Chapter 2 discusses
the styles o f nineteenth-century piano transcription. Chapters 3-6 offer detailed analysis
o f M oszkowski’s transcriptional technique in three o f his virtuosic piano transcriptions
based on W agner and Bizet operas: Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper Tannhauser,
Isoldens Tod: Schluss-Szene aus Tristan und Isolde, and Chanson Boheme de I ’Opera
Carmen de Georges Bizet. These analyses reveal the idiosyncratic and typical facets of
his transcriptional technique. M oszkowski’s strategic decisions about what to include or
exclude, highlight or de-emphasize were balanced by a sense o f musical proportion with
a clear understanding o f pianistic practicalities and limitations. Furthermore,
M oszkowski’s deep respect for the composer whose work he is transcribing is shown by
the great lengths to which he goes to disguise his own musical insertions.
In order to compare and contrast differences in transcriptional style and place
M oszkowski’s transcriptional oeuvre in perspective, comparable works by other
composers such as Liszt, Busoni, Godowsky, von Bulow, and Tausig are also examined.
Although M oszkow ski’s transcriptions never reach the flamboyant heights o f Liszt or
Tausig, they do not belong in the realm o f artless arrangements. Instead, his works
demonstrate a sense o f refinement and musical sophistication with a dose o f panache.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The genesis for this dissertation grew out o f a stimulating course on Schubert’s
Winterreise given by Dr. Rufus Hallmark. Among the topics covered in the seminar was
a discussion o f the nineteenth-century transcription genre. This led to the discovery of
M oszkowski’s transcriptions and a rekindling o f my affection for his music.
An early, influential piano teacher o f mine, Emerson M eyers (a late contemporary
o f M oszkowski’s), insisted that I diligently work my way through M oszkowski’s Ecole
des Double-Notes, Op. 64 (Enoch 1901), and his Vingt Petits Etudes, Op. 91 (Augener,
1913), asserting that these technical studies were among the finest ever written. As a
result, I have incorporated many o f the Op. 64 exercises into my personal technical
regimen and continue to assign many o f his pieces to my students.
W hen I embarked on the research for this dissertation I discovered a paucity of
information on both M oszkowski’s personal life and his oeuvre, outside o f a few well-
known works. It is my hope that by delving into M oszkowski’s personal history as well
as examining his transcriptional process, greater musical interest and scholarship will
ensue, thereby encouraging another generation o f musicians to explore and perform these
magnificent compositions.
The successful completion o f this project would never have been realized without
the unerring guidance o f my advisor, Bruce MacIntyre. While it goes without saying that
the dissertation advisee will encounter numerous crises, questions, and moments o f
floundering confidence, Dr. M acIntyre’s tireless support, cheering humor, and meticulous
attention to detail have gone far above and beyond the call o f duty. He has taught me
how to navigate the treacherous terrain o f style, from general conceptual discernment to
footnote minutia. His knowledge of historical resources and suggestions o f how and
where to sleuth out another nugget o f information inspired me to keep digging and
ultimately helped me uncover some new and important information on Moszkowski.
I am also deeply indebted to Dr. John Graziano for initially directing me in the
proposal process, introducing me to Dr. MacIntyre, and helping reshape some o f the
earlier versions o f the dissertation.
One constant throughout my studies at the Graduate Center has been Peter
Basquin. His musical, pianistic, and personal guidance has been an invaluable resource
and fount of strength. Despite various setbacks, Professor Basquin’s friendship and
confidence in me have remained unwavering; I am profoundly grateful.
Many o f the exciting, previously unpublished biographical data would not have
been available without the generous support o f Cecile Tardif, a member o f the music
faculty at the University o f Montreal. Her seminal research on Cecile Chaminade
uncovered many details about Moszkowski and his relationship with the Chaminade
family that she graciously shared with me.
I would also like to thank Gisela Blobel, Leslie Coch, Lisa Albrecht, Dr. Claude
Desplan, and Danielle Desplan for their help in deciphering old handwritten documents
as well as facilitating the more taxing translations. The time involved in these activities
was not insignificant, and I deeply appreciate their generosity and the efforts given on my
behalf.
In addition to receiving research and technical support, I w ould not have been
able to complete the doctoral process without the friendship and support o f my
colleagues. I feel privileged to count among my friends Dr. M aria Eugenia Tapia, Dr.
Hui Mei Lin, Dr. Tess A. Remy-Schumacher, and Sharon Bonneau. They provided a
sounding board for my research explorations, a shoulder to cry on, and showed me that
the light at the end o f the proverbial tunnel was just around the comer.
Another important person who has always kept things running smoothly, picked
up the pieces when all seemed lost, put perspective back in its place, and cheered for my
successes is Peg Rivers. H er smile and congenial disposition never fail to revive one’s
spirits.
Proofreading is one o f the most detailed and time-consuming aspects o f polishing
up a dissertation. I doubt that I will ever be able to repay the debt I owe to m y sister, Dr.
Tamar Hodos, for her patience, painstaking labors, and munificence in reading through
my dissertation. After graciously volunteering for this role she did not shirk from her
duties upon discovering the page count and deadline. I am doubly lucky that in addition
to being an internationally recognized archaeologist with her own tenured faculty
position at the University o f Bristol, England, she is an accomplished pianist and my duet
partner. Her musically knowledgeable background provided me with an even deeper
level o f insight.
There have been many people and influences that have propelled me towards
achieving this goal.. I would particularly like to mention my children, David, Daniel, and
Elie, whose sparkling eyes, unbridled energy, and absolute love serve as a beacon to
remind me what life is all about. As a parent I have gained a new appreciation o f the
many sacrifices one makes for one’s children. Although I have always appreciated the
plethora o f gifts bestowed upon me by m y own parents, I would not be writing this had
they not discovered and nurtured my musical passion. While I will never know the full
extent o f the many sacrifices that were made on my behalf, through this academic
achievement I wish to honor Dr. and Mrs. William Hodos for the important role they
have played in shaping my life.
While my parents provided the tools and my children the inspiration, it is my
husband, Dr. Leonard Freedman, who has devoted to me his daily, and often hourly,
support, strength, time, and love for the past eighteen years. W ords do not adequately
express my feelings for him and what he has helped me achieve in my life. It is to him
that I dedicate this work.
Gilya Hodos
April 10, 2003
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X
CONTENTS
Chapter
1. THE BIOGRAPHY OF MORITZ MOSZKOWSKI
Introduction 1
Family Background and Early History 3
Encounters with Liszt and a First Piano Concerto 13
More Compositional Achievements 15
The Performer’s Demise 19
Moszkowski the Teacher 21
Romance and Family 23
Paris 35
The Piano Concerto, Op. 59 38
War, Demise, and Illness, 1914-1925 44
Conclusion 53
Epilogue 56
2. THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY TRANSCRIPTION
Styles of Transcription 57
Defining Transcription and Related Terms 63
Popularity of the Transcription Genre 70
Transcriptions by Liszt, Busoni, Godowsky, and von Billow:

A Brief Overview 73
M oszkowski’s Piano Transcriptions 78
M oszkowski’s Arrangements o f His Own Compositions 81
Virtuosic Transcriptions 82
Conclusion 83
3. M OSZKOW SKI’S TRANSCRIPTION TECHNIQUES IN THE PARIS
VERSION OF W AGNER’S TANNHAUSER
Introduction 85
Thematic M aterial from the Venusberg (Bacchanal) Scene 87
The Paris Version o f Tannhauser 93
Piano/Vocal Score Transcriptions 96
Transcription Techniques 99
Godowsky’s Tannhauser 110
Liszt’s Overture to Tannhauser 114
Conclusion 125
4. A STRUCTURAL ANALYSIS OF M OSZKOW SKI’S
NACHKOMPONIERTE SZENE ZUR OPER TANNHAUSER VON
RICHARD WAGNER
Introduction 127
A Structural Analysis o f the Venusberg Scene 128
M oszkowski’s Transcription Technique in the Venusberg 134
Dynamic and Expression Markings 134
Texture 147
Timbre 155
Rhythm 161
Technical 165
A Comparison o f W agner’s and M oszkow ski’s
Sections IV and V 177
Section VI - M oszkowski’s Ending 185
Conclusion 191
5. ISO LD ENS TOD. SCHL USS-SZENE A US TRISTAN UND ISO LD E VON
RICHARD WAGNER
Introduction 195
M oszkowski’s Musical Introduction 196
Transcription Techniques 197
Dynamic Endurance and Sustainment 200
Volume and Energy Endurance 204
Texture 217
A Comparison o f Transcription Styles:

Liszt, Tausig, and Moszkowski 220
Conclusion 242
6. CHANSON BOHEM E D E L ’OPERA CARM EN D E GEOR GES BIZET
Introduction 244
Tempo Structure 251
x iii
Flourishes 261
Musical Introduction 265
Strophic Enrichment 270
M oszkowski’s Insertions 278
Conclusion 286
7. FINAL THOUGHTS
Reception 288
Distinctive Transcription Traits 290
Musical Insertions 292
Structural Commonalities and D issimilarities 295
“Filling-in” Technique 296
Distinctive Terminology 298
Conclusion 305
TABLES
Table Page
Table 2-1. Terminological Summary 69
Table 2-2. Piano Arrangements 80
Table 2-3. M oszkowski’s Arrangements o f His Orchestral M usic 82
Table 2-4. M oszkowski’s Virtuosic Transcriptions 83
Table 3-1. Themes from the Venusberg Scene 89
Table 4-1. W agner’s Venusberg Scene - Paris Version 140
Table 4-2. M oszkowski’s Tannhauser Paraphrase 139
Table 4-3. Dynamic and Expressive Markings 145
Table 6-1. Formal Outline. Act II Gypsy Song by Georges Bizet 272
Table 6-2. Formal Outline. Chanson Boheme by Moritz Moszkowski 273
Table 7-1. Distinctive Terminology: Isoldens Tod 300
Table 7-2. Distinctive Terminology: Nachkomponiert Szene zur

Oper Tannhauser von Richard Wagner 301
Table 7-3. Distinctive Terminology

Chanson de Boheme de I ’Opera de George Bizet 302
XV
MUSIC EXAMPLES
Example Page
Example 3-la. Wagner, Paris version, mm.134-37. 100
Example 3-lb. Moszkowski, mm. 162-66. 100
Example 3-lc. Singer, mm. 419-22. 101
Example 3-ld. Nuitter, mm. 160-63. 101
Example 3-le. Rubinstein, mm. 123-27. 101
Example 3-2a. Wagner, Paris version, mm.227-30. 105
Example 3-2b. Nuitter, mm. 253-56. 106
Example 3-2c. Singer, mm. 512-15. 106
Example 3-2d. Rubinstein, mm. 232-35. 106
Example 3-2e. Moszkowski, mm. 240-43. 107
Example 3-3. Godowsky, Tannhauser, m. 1. Ill
Example 3-4. Godowsky, Tannhauser, mm. 3-6. 112
Example 3-5a. Wagner, p. 17, m. 4. 116
Example 3-5b. Moszkowski, m. 12. 117
Example 3-5c. Liszt, mm. 93-94. 117
Example 3-6a. Wagner, Dresden Overture, p.20, mm. 110-11. 119
Example 3-6b. Liszt, mm. 111-12. 119
Example 3-6c. Moszkowski, mm. 30-31 120
Example 3-7a. M oszkowski, mm. 7-8. 121
Example 3-7b. Wagner, Paris version, Supplement I, mm. 4-5. 123
Example 3-7c. Liszt, mm. 88-89. 123
Example 4 -la . Wagner, m. 36. 137
Example 4 -lb . M oszkowski, m. 65. 138
Example 4-2a. Wagner, m. 77. 139
Example 4-2b. M oszkowski, m. 106. 139
Example 4-3a. Wagner, mm. 109-14. 141
Example 4-3b. M oszkowski, mm. 140-43. 142
Example 4-5a. Wagner, Supplement I, mm. 4-5. 148
Example 4-6a. W agner, string parts only, mm. 28-29. 151
Example 4-8a. W agner, mm. 127-29. 156
x v ii
Example 4-10a. Wagner, 1st violin part, mm. 73-76. 161
Example 4-10b. Moszkowski, right hand, mm. 102-05. 161
Example 4-1 la. Wagner, 1st and 2nd violin parts, mm. 130-33. 165
Example 4-1 lb. Moszkowski, right hand, mm. 159-62. 165
Example 4-12b. Moszkowski, m. 183. 170
Example 4-13. Moszkowski, m. 187. 171
Example 4-14. W agner, m. 162. 173
Example 4-15. Moszkowski, mm. 191-92. 174
Example 4-16a. Wagner, m. 166. 176
Example 4-16b. Moszkowski, mm. 195-96. 176
Example 5-la. Wagner, Liebestod, mm. 6-9. 198
Example 5-lb . M oszkowski, mm. 27-32. 199
x v iii
Example 5-7c. Tausig, mm. 241-42. 227
Example 5-7d. Moszkowski, mm. 51-52. 227
Example 5-8c. Tausig, mm. 254-59. 231
Example 5-9. Liszt, 1875 revision of m. 47. 234
Example 5 -10a. Wagner, mm. 60-62. 235
Example 5-10b. Tausig, mm. 274-76. 236
Example 5 -10c. Liszt, mm. 64-66. 236
Example 5-11. Liszt, 1875 version, mm. 65-66. 239
Example 6 -la. Bizet, verse 1, section D, mm. 68-70. 254
Example 6 -lb . Moszkowski, verse 1, section D, mm. 125-27. 254
x ix
Example 6-2a. Bizet, verse 2, section D, mm. 108-10. 257
Example 6-2b. Moszkowski, verse 2, section D, mm. 173-75. 258
Example 6-3a. Bizet, verse 3, section D, mm. 148-50. 260
Example 6-3b. Moszkowski, verse 3, section D mm. 227-28. 261
Example 6- 4a. Bizet, verse 2, section C, mm. 104-08. 262
Example 6-4b. Moszkowski, verse 2, section C, mm. 164-72. 263
Example 6-5a. Bizet, verse 3, section C, mm. 146-47. 264
Example 6-5b. Moszkowski, verse 3, section C, mm. 220-27. 265
Example 6-6a. Bizet, opening of Seguidilla, Carmen, Act I, no. 10, mm. 1-4. 266
Example 6-6c. Moszkowski, mm. 38-57. 268
Example 6-7a. Bizet, section B, verse 1, mm. 48-52. 271
Example 6-7b. Moszkowski, section B, verse 1, mm. 105-09. 272
Example 6-10. Moszkowski, mm. 141-51. 279
Example 6-11 M oszkowski, mm. 189-205
Example 6-12 M oszkowski, mm. 241-56.
Example 6-13 M oszkowski, mm. 263-88.
1
CHAPTER 1
THE LIFE OF M ORITZ M OSZKOW SKI
Introduction
Much about M oritz M oszkowski (1854-1925) remains an enigma. Although there
is a vague general awareness o f his musical oeuvre, he is more or less forgotten by
modem scholars and musicians. Most o f his compositions are lumped into the category
o f “charming” nineteenth-century salon pieces, while some o f his great musical
achievements languish in near total neglect. His story begins w ith great promise and
success, both as a pianist and as a composer, but ends in poverty and illness. He was an
intensely private gentleman who rarely granted interviews. Those who were admitted
into his intimate circle were relied upon for their discretion regarding the details o f his
private life, and, as a result, many unanswered questions remain. O f the few
characteristics that have emerged regarding his personality, there are countless stories and
witticisms that portray his self-deprecating but clever humor.
There are only two available substantial sources on M oszkowski. One is a 1975
informal monograph in typescript by Willard Luedtke titled “Notes, Thoughts, and
Fragments about M oritz M oszkowski and Some o f His M usic.” This work was clearly a
labor o f love for the author, whose own history remains a mystery. Luedtke reveals
many tantalizing tidbits regarding M oszkowski’s life as a man and musician, but fails to
document his sources clearly and leaves the reader struggling to verify and build upon his
2
research.1 The second is a 1981 Ph.D. dissertation by John Cody Haddow titled Moritz
Moszkowski and His Piano Music} Haddow attempts to survey briefly as many o f
Moszkowski’s extant piano solo compositions as the author could find. M oszkowski’s
piano transcriptions as well as his non-solo piano music are excluded from this work.
While Haddow’s biographical chapter also reveals a variety o f interesting professional
details, many questions regarding Moszkowski the person remain unanswered.
The New Grove (2000) has an updated article on Moszkowski written by Martin
Eastick. Because o f space limitations this article provides only a brief overview o f
Moszkowski’s professional life, a few personal details, and a selected list o f his works.3
Like Haddow, Eastick focuses his biographical information upon M oszkow ski’s
professional experiences. There is a brief mention o f M oszkowski’s wife, but no name is
given. Although Eastick includes the fact that Moszkowski had a daughter, the existence
of his son is not mentioned.
1 Willard Luedtke, “Notes, Thoughts, and Fragments about Moritz Moszkowski and
Some o f His M usic,” TM s ([New York] 1975), 230pp. The manuscript is located in the
Performing Arts Research Division o f the New York Public Library. In many cases
Luedtke’s sources are given in quotation marks but without a clue as to where they
originated. This is a pity because in many ways Luedtke’s book is a seminal work in
terms o f the detail in which he delves into Moszkowski’s life, as well as the catalogue o f
works that includes opus numbers, publishers, and the dedicatees. Until this work was
written— it does not appear to have been published— no other such comprehensive, even
if non-scholarly, work had been written regarding Moszkowski.
2 John Cody Haddow, "Moritz Moszkowski and his Piano Music" (Ph.D. diss.,
Washington University, 1981).
3 Martin Eastick, “M oritz Moszkowski,” The New Grove Dictionary o f M usic and
Musicians II, ed. Stanley Sadie (London, 2000), 17: 188. Mr. Eastick has kindly provided
me with his personal list o f Moszkowski’s works. While Easticks’s list does include
opus numbers, it does not provide a comprehensive list o f publication dates or the
original publishers. Furthermore, a number o f M oszkowski’s arrangements which may
have only been published in The Etude are not included in this list.
3
A more thorough and comprehensive biographical sketch o f M oszkowski as both
a man and musician is drawn in this thesis. Although some mysteries remain, a revealing
personal portrait o f M oszkowski is offered, along with a detailed account o f
M oszkowski’s standing among his peers worldwide.
Family Background and Early H istoiy
Moritz Moszkowski grew up during a very turbulent time in Polish history. As a
Jewish family, the M oszkowskis undoubtedly experienced the repression and anti-
Semitism inherent in the prevailing laws o f the time. Yet they were fortunate to be
among the minority o f the Jewish population that was financially comfortable. In the
preface to the 1928 publication o f his Etincelles, op. 36, no. 6, M oritz’s father is
described as “ a gentleman o f independent means.”4 Years later in his biography,
M oritz’s older brother, Alexander, writes that the family initially acquired their wealth
from their m other’s grandfather who won it, perhaps as a bet or through gambling.
Alexander goes on to describe how quickly his grandparents spent these earnings on a
carriage with four horses and luxury trips to the spa in Karlsbad.5 The fact that the
Moszkowskis were in this financial minority granted them important privileges and status
not accorded to the proletariat Jew.
Once Poland had been divided among Russia, Austria, and Prussia, the laws that
governed the various partitioned areas fell under the “host” country’s jurisdiction. While
some o f the laws that pertained to the general population were more liberal and
4 Ernst C. Krohn, “Biographical Sketch,” in Moritz Moszkowski, Etincelles, op. 36, no. 6
(St. Louis Art Publication Society, 1928), [ii].
5 Alexander M oszkowski, Panorama meines Lebens (Berlin: Fontane and Co., 1925), 12.
enlightened, both A ustria and Prussia had a second set o f laws specifically dealing with
Jews. M oritz’s parents, Issac and Sara, nee Hirschberg,6 were living in Pilica, Poland,
when their first son, Alexander, was bom on January 15, 1851. Pilica was a small town
located in the southwest com er o f Silesia. Although Silesia was for the most part under
Prussian domination, Pilica fell into the Katowice region that was controlled by the
Russians.
Although M oritz’s parents were not well educated, his father understood that
education was the key to rising above their current station, and in the spring o f 1852 the
Moszkowskis moved from Pilica to the larger, more intellectual and socially vibrant city
of W roclaw .7 This was a difficult and expensive move to make because the Prussians
controlled W roclaw (also known by its German name as Breslau) and required Jewish
families to pay a special fee to move as well as an additional fee to become Pmssian
citizens. The Prussians were particularly cruel m their repression o f Polish culture and
identity. German was the official language, and in many places Polish was forbidden.9
The Prussians segregated the Jews into two categories, the salient difference being those
with wealth and land ownership and those without.10 For Jewish families w ith money,
like the M oszkowskis, the government allowed a greater freedom o f activity, yet an
implicit cultural assimilation was required to take place. Even though these categories
were abolished officially in 1848 and Jews were given equal rights as citizens in Prussia
6I am extremely grateful to Cecile Tardif for making M oritz and Henriette Cham inade’s
“Acte de M arriage” available to me, thereby revealing the names o f his parents.
7 13.
8 Alexander M oszkowski, Panorama, 12.
9 For the proletariat Jews at this time there was the additional stigma attached to their
religion, language, and their particular dress code.
10On April 17, 1797, the Prussians issued a General Ordinance or General-
Judenreglement that created the “protected” Jews and the “tolerated” ones.
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5
by 1850, those Jews who were not fluent in German and did not conform to the social and
cultural Prussian milieu were forced to leave.11 In an effort to becom e more
emancipated, Jews becam e more socially and intellectually integrated into everyday
Polish society. W hile the older generation o f Jewish Poles (from the 1840s and earlier)
retained their links to more traditional Jewish circles, the younger generation, including
the Moszkowski brothers, Ignaz Friedman (1882-1948), and Joseph Hoffman (1876-
1957), among others, tended to consider themselves Polish first. M oritz’s only known
reference to his religious heritage comes in the form o f a famous witticism:
Hans von Btilow had just signed his name in a guest book with the following
rather pompous pronouncement:
Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, tous les autres sont cretins.

[All others are idiots]
Moszkowski [coming across von Biilow’s statement] wrote:
Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, Moszkowski, tous les autres sont des chretiens.

[All others are Christians]12
Breslau was an enormous change for the Moszkowski family, given their limited
cultural background. Alexander describes his parents’ reaction: “but for the Polish petty
bourgeosie [Kleinbiirger] it had London dimensions .. .”13 The city itself was
“overshadowed by the University and there were many teachers who knew much more
11 As a result, although M oritz and Alexander culturally identified themselves as Jewish,

Moritz made no attempt to maintain any religious connection. He even m arried into a
Catholic family.
12 Harold Bauer, H arold Bauer: M y Book (New York: Norton and Co., 1948), 133.
13 Alexander M oszkowski, 13. “Aber fur den polnischen Kleinbiirger besass es Londoner
Dimensionen . . . . ”
6
than the Talmudists of the dark homeland.” 14 Issac Moszkowski wanted to offer “this
knowledge [secular learning] more than praying and Talmud” 15 to his children.
M oszkowski’s parents, Issac and Sara, were to “some extent from m [religiously
observant]” and spoke Yiddish.16 Alexander writes, however, that these observances
were more out of respect for their relatives than any personal religious belief in “the old
rituals.” 17 For example, during the holiday o f Passover, when Jews eat “matzah” and
refrain from leavened bread, Alexander says that while they did have Easterbread [or
matzah] on the table there were also semolina or bread rolls.18 Similarly on Yom Kippur
[the Day o f Atonement], when Jews typically fast for a day, the M oszkowskis would take
little coffee breaks.19 Although Issac “loosened the religious rules with more comfortable
exceptions,”20 it was still important that the family appear observant from the outside.
On August 23, 1854, Moritz was bom. As a young boy Moritz already
demonstrated his gifted ear by imitating the sounds o f birdcalls. Both he and Alexander
loved birds and even kept a little menagerie for which Moritz collected the birds himself.
14 Alexander Moszkowski, 13. The dark homeland refers to the small towns or “shtetls”
of Pilica and Myslowitz where the Moszkowskis had extended family. “Die Bildung, so
schwebte es meinem Vater vor, konnte sich nicht in dem einfachen Drill der Gebetschule
erschopfen, und auf den Breslauer Anstalten, uberragt von der Universitat Viadrina, gab
es sicherlich viele Lehrmeister, die noch mehr und besseres wussten als die Talmudisten
der dunklen Heimat.”
15 Alexander Moszkowski, 13.
18 Alexander Moszkowski, 17. “So erschien beispielsweise zur Passahzeit das
ungesauerte Osterbrot, die Mazze, als obligatorisch, ohne dass deswegen die brave
schlesische Semmel vom Tisch verbannt war.”
19 Alexander Moszkowski, 17. Am Versohnungstage wurde gefastet, aber m it kleinen
erquicklichen Kaffee-Episoden dazwischen.”
7
Alexander writes that while both boys could mimic the sound o f the birds, “M oritz’s love
was so great that the birds would come and sit on his hands.”21
Financially the family was comfortable. Their apartment in Breslau had “five
rooms in the best location,”22 despite the fact that their living-room overlooked a stable,
whose pungent aroma would waft up during the warmer months. Although the family ate
simple and inexpensive items such as “pigeon, goose, and local fo w l. . . because they did
not have a lot o f money,”23 they did eat out in cafes and take the occasional carriage ride.
“Once all five o f them (the family and a maid) went to Badeort Salzbrunn and it did not
cost them more than staying in the city.”24
Issac’s educational vision included having his children learn German, Latin, and
Greek. He also felt they should study writers such as Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, and
Humbolt, but chose only a small selection o f their works because he [Issac] was unaware
o f the others. Issac’s wife, Sara, was an accomplished pianist who had studied with the
well-known organist A dolf Hesse.26 Hesse had performance triumphs in London and
Paris, and was considered the “ Sebastian Bach o f the nineteenth century” ; he was also
21 Alexander Moszkowski, 16. “Er verstand sich auf zartliche Lockrufe, und es ereignete
sich gar nicht selten, dass ihm im Wald und auf der Wiese Vogel auf die Hand flogen.”
22 Alexander Moszkowski, 20-21. “Unsere Funfzimmerwohnung in bester Stadtlage
beanspruchte eine M iete von 150 Talem, wir hatten sie dreizehn Jahr inne, ohne dass es
dem Hauspascha einfiel, die Steigerungsschraube anzusetzen.”
23 Alexander Moszkowski, 20-21.
24 Alexander Moszkowski, 20-21. “Einmal nahmen wir Sommeraufenthalt im Badeort
Salzbrunn, die Familie mit einem Dienstmadchen, und die gesamte Reise fur flinf Kopfe
sollte nicht mehr kosten als der Stadtaufenthalt fur gleiche Zeitdauer.”
26 Alexander Moszkowski, 30-31. “Das war der erste Organist der Breslauer
Bemhardinerkirche A dolf Friedrich Hesse, ein Meister ersten Ranges, der in London und
Paris Truimphe gefeiert hatte und dort als der Sebastian Bach des neunzehnten
Jahrhunderts ausgerufen worden war.”
8
asthmatic and fat.27 Sara’s studies with Hesse included the music o f Beethoven,
Mendelssohn, some Mozart, and a little Chopin. According to Alexander, she played
very few opera pieces, no Schumann, and surprisingly, no Bach even though Hesse was
her teacher.28 Alexander and M oritz loved to lie under the piano on the floor and listen to
her play.29 Issac also played the piano and sometimes in a happy hour, sat together with
the boys at the piano ‘making their own symphonies’.30

•5 1
In 1863, when M oritz was nine years old, he began to take piano lessons.
Alexander writes that he and M oritz really began to “learn about music once they started
'l 'j .
to go to real concerts . . . in der Saale der Biirgerressource.” Among the artists who
performed at these town concerts was Franz Bendel (1833-1874). The famed Liszt
student and virtuoso Polish pianist Carl Tausig (1841-1871) played several Beethoven
piano concertos with Leopold Damrosch as the conductor. Although M oritz and
Alexander “did not understand B eethoven’s music, [these concerts] opened to them an
27 Alexander M oszkowski, 31. “Man kannte Hesse zudem als einem korpulenten,
A sthm atiker. . . .”
Alexander M oszkowski, 31. “ Schumann fehlte ganzlich, aus der Opem literatur gab es
ganz vereinzelt einige leichte Arrangements nach Rossini, Donizetti und Meyerbeer.
Seltsamerweise kam Bach mit keiner Note aufs Programm, trotz der Spielleitung Hesse’s,
der doch in Sebastians Spuren wandelte.”
7Q •
Alexander M oszkowski, 31.
30 Alexander M oszkowski, 31. “Manchmal, in frohlauniger Stunde, setzten w ir uns
zusammen an den Fliigel, der V ater und die Sohne, und droschen in W illkur darauf los,
wohin es gerade treffen wollte. W ir nannten das ‘Symphonie m achen’ . . . ”
31 Krolin, “Biographical Sketch,” [ii],
32 Alexander M oszkowski, 32. “Unser Horizont erweiterte sich merklich, als w ir in einige
wirkliche Konzerte mit em stem Orchester und mit Solisten gerieten, die im Saale der
Biirgerressource stattfanden.”
33 Alexander M oszkowski, 32. Bendel was a pupil o f Liszt and “was reputedly one o f the
big technicians o f the day.” Harold C. Schonberg, The Great Pianists (New York: Simon
and Schuster, 1987), 267.
9
additional world o f musical colors.”34 Through D am rosch’s musical direction “they
gained a musical understanding. .. [Damrosch] was an ultra progressive conductor and
put the new [style o f conducting an] orchestra in the foreground.”35
In 1865 the family moved to Dresden36 in search o f better music instruction for
the boys.37 In an effort to “get into a purer musical atmosphere,”38 the boys would sneak
TQ
through an opening in the hedge and listen to the symphonic garden concerts.
Alexander writes o f the “huge influence” that the brothers received from the vantage-
point o f this hedge, as they were introduced to Beethoven’s Symphonies nos. 5 and 6, as
well as M ozart’s G m inor Symphony.40 By the time he was thirteen, M oritz was already
dabbling in composition, having written his first quintet for piano and strings.41
Although the work was never published and is now lost, it was an adventurous first step
for the young musician.
34 Alexander M oszkowski, 32. “ Und da trat auch der Junglowe Carl Tausig auf, mit den
Konzerten von Beethoven in G und Es, an die zwar unser Verstandnis nicht hinanreichte,
die uns aber doch einen Schimmer aus iibergeordneten Tonwelten zufuhrten.”
35 Alexander M oszkowski, 32. “Der benihm te Leopold Damrosch fuhrte den Taktstab,
und wir gewannen durch ihn eine verschwommene Ahnung von symphonischer
Klassizitat. Diese wurden indes ubertaubt durch die orchestralen Abenteuer, die
Damrosch als UltraFortschrittler in den Vordergrund stellte.”
36 Alexander M oszkowski, 32.
37 Luedtke, “Notes, Thoughts, and Fragments,” 1, says that the parents arranged for
Moritz to be instructed by someone from the Dresden Conservatory, but mentions no
source or name. Haddow (p. 2) does not say where the m usical lessons took place but
adds that they were for both Alexander and Moritz. Again no source is cited.
38 Alexander M oszkowski, 32. “Erst als im Jahre 1865 unser W ohnsitz nach Dresden
verlegt wurde, gerieten w ir Buben in eine reinere Musikalische Atmosphare. Dort gab es
symphonische Gartenkonzerte, die wir als Zaungaste erlauschten.”
41 Krohn, [ii].
10
The family continued its quest for a music education that would meet the needs o f
the budding pianist-composer and moved to Berlin in 1868 or 1869.42 Moritz was
enrolled in the Stem Conservatory,43 also known as the Berliner M usikschule. There he
studied piano with Eduard Franck (1817-1893) and composition with Frederich Kiel
(1821-1885). The Berliner M usikschule was founded in the 1850s by Julius Stem (1820-
1883), Adolph Bernhard Marx (1795-1866), and Theodor Kullak (1818-1882). In 1855,
however, Kullak broke away from Stem and Marx to start his own school, the Neue
Akademie der Tonkunst.44 Moszkowski left the Stem Conservatory for this Akademie in
1870. There he studied piano with Kullak and composition with Richard W uerst (1824-
1881).
M oszkowski’s music studies were not limited to piano and composition; he was
also a proficient violinist amidst many distinguished musicians. A contemporary piano
student at Kullak’s school, W illiam H. Sherwood (1854-1911), commented that
Moszkowski played second violin in the weekly Student’s Orchestra that was conducted
by Wuerst.45 Another o f K ullak’s students was Amy Fay (1844-1928). In her M usic
Study in Germany she writes regarding a performance she gave o f Anton Rubinstein’s
42 There is some discrepancy as to exactly who moved to Berlin. Eastick,17: 188, implies
that only Moritz went to Berlin in 1869. Haddow, 3, also states that “he was sent to
Berlin” in 1869, but Luedtke, 2, claims that the family moved in 1868. The source for
this information is not cited in any o f these three works.
43 Schonberg, The Great Pianists, 241.
44 Haddow states that Kullak was M oszkowski’s principal teacher at the Stem
Conservatory but cites no source for this information. It is not clear how Moszkowski
could have studied with Kullak at the Stem Conservatory if the latter had left in the mid-
1850s to begin his own school. Both Eastick and Luedtke mention Franck and Kiel as
M oszkowski’s teachers but fail to provide a specific documenting source.
45 William Sherwood, “Lessons with Kullak,” The Etude (July 1908): 424. This same
article also mentions that Moszkowski was in great demand to play "orchestral parts on a
second piano."
11
piano concerto when she received praise from Kullak and pianist-composer Xaver
Scharwenka (1850-1924)46 and “applause from Moszkowski who was playing in the
violin section o f the orchestra.”47 Moszkowski's other contemporaries at Kullak's
Akademie included some soon-to-be prominent personages such as Russian pianist
Constantin von Sternberg (1852-1925) and German pianist Emil Liebling (1851-1914).48
This remarkable gathering o f musical ability at Kullak's Akademie was at its height in the
early and mid-1870s. In reminiscing about his own musical development Constantin von
Sternberg remarked that “when I visited the dear master [Kullak] eight years later
[around the early 1880s] . . . he told me with great sadness that neither before nor after
my time had he with him such a large gathering o f talents.”49
Simultaneously, as Moszkowski's reputation as a perform er and teacher was
growing in the early 1870s, his compositional successes were also taking hold. Having
been at Kullak's Akademie for only three years, Moszkowski was invited to become a
member o f the faculty in 1872,50 a position he retained for over two decades.
Moszkowski describes his earliest teaching experiences as “comical” because “every
46 Xaver and his older brother Philipp were both on the faculty o f K ullak’s school. Both
brothers were close friends o f Moszkowski.
47 Amy Fay, Music Study in Germany (London: Macmillan & Co., 1887), 167; from a
letter written December 2, 1872.
48 Sherwood, “Lessons w ith Kullak,” 424. Additional students at the Akademie included
in Sherwood’s list are: J. L. Nicode (composer and pianist), Dr. Otto Neitzel (pianist and
music critic for the Cologne Gazette), Dr. Hans Bischoff, James Kwast (from Clara
Schumann's School o f M usic in Frankfurt am Main), Louis Maas, Adele Aus der Ohe,
Albert R. Parsons, E. M. Bowman, John Orth, Edward Baxter Perry, and Van Ellemeet.
49 Constantin von Sternberg," The Making o f a Musician, Part II," The Musician 20, no. 1
(January 1914): 16.
50 Eastick, New Grove II, 17:188.
12
pupil in my class exceeded me in age.” 51 Even though he was only eighteen,
Moszkowski was already regarded as "a finished artist"52 by his peers, and in the early
1870s M oszkowski made his Berlin debut as a pian ist.53 This was followed by a
European concert tour that included an additional Berlin concert that was attended by
Emil Liebling, who wrote in 1895:
Considered as a pianist, M oszkowski is "hors de concours" [beyond competition],

. . . He played the Hummel Septett, Liszt's Feux-Follets, the Chopin Barcarolle,
and his [own] M oments Musicaux, opus 7, then in manuscript. Everything was
done musically and w ith the utmost ease.54
Around 1872 M oszkowski first met Sternberg at Kullak's Akademie, a fact that
Sternberg confirms in his “Rem iniscences.” Their friendship resulted in M oszkowski's
dedication o f his Trois M om ents Musicaux, op. 7, "A son ami Constantin Sternberg,”
published by H ainauer in 1876. In this same article, Sternberg writes that "it was on one
o f my first concert tours several years later that I succeeded in interesting his first
publisher, Hainauer in Breslau, in Moszkowski's talent."55 Although the veracity o f this
statement cannot be confirmed, it is true that Hainauer published the Trois Moments
Musicaux in 1876. These pieces became enormously popular and provided an early boost
for M oszkowski's com positional successes. Liebling added to his review o f
Moszkowski's concert that "the second o f the three M usical Moments made him famous
5,Moritz M oszkowski, trans. Oliver W. Pierce, "Music Lessons: A Chat," M usic 4 (May
1893): 74. M oszkowski also mentions in this article that he began teaching at the age o f
sixteen and earned a fee ranging from one Mark to one Mark and a half.
52 Fay, Music Study, 167.
53 Haddow states that M oszkowski's debut took place in the w inter o f 1872, but Eastick
cites 1873. W ithout the precise date and location o f the concert it is not possible to
clarify this discrepancy.
54 Emil Liebling, "M oszkowski and his Compositions,” M usic 9 (December 1895): 120.
55 von Sternberg, “M aking o f M usician,” 16.
13
and was soon played everywhere."56 James Gibbons Huneker (1860-1921), a critic and
writer, comments on this famous second Moment Musicaux, in C sharp minor:
Moriz M oszkowski has also seized the same idea, for in his Momen[t] Musicale
in C sharp m inor he has for a second subject this identical one. It comes
originally from Schumann's song, Sonntags am Rhein. The resemblance to the
M eistersinger lies principally in the third bar o f this coda in the upward
inflection.57
Encounters with Liszt and a First Piano Concerto
Two events o f great importance for Moszkowski as a pianist and composer
occurred in 1875, when he was twenty-one. The first occurred when he and Philipp
Scharwenka (1847-1917) put on a concert consisting entirely o f their own compositions.
This was quite a feat, as M oszkowski had published only a handful o f works by this
time. Among the Moszkowski pieces performed was a newly written piano concerto,
now lost. This was not, however, the only performance o f this work. The second
important event occurred later that same year, when Moszkowski went to W eimar to play
for Liszt. About this occasion the unidentified author o f a 1901 article in The Musician
states:
56 Liebling, “Moszkowski and his Compositions,” 120.

57 James Gibbons Huneker, Mezzotints in Modern M usic, 3rd ed. (New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons, 1903), 29.
58Moszkowski's works published by 1875 included: Scherzo in B flat, op. 1, (Simon,
1874), Albumblatt in A flat, op. 2, (Hainauer, 1875), Caprice in A minor, op. 4,
(Hainauer, 1875), Hommage a Schumann in E flat, op. 5, (Hainauer, 1875), Fantasie-
Impromptu in F major, op. 6, (Simon, 1875). There is no citation or reference to an op. 3
composition. If the information in the 1901 article from The M usician is accurate (cf.
note 59), and given M oszkow ski’s compositional chronology, then a reasonable
speculation is that op. 3 may have been M oszkowski’s unpublished, missing piano
concerto.
14
. . . in the year 1875 .. . the most wonderful o f all living masters, Franz Liszt,
assisted by a young pianist, was conducting a manuscript concerto. The music
was by an unknown composer, and was being performed by Liszt and his young
assistant on two pianos. As the last note o f the first number died away Liszt, with
that charming enthusiasm o f which his heart seemed always so full, threw his
arms around his young partner, kissed him again and again, and then introduced
him as the composer o f the fine music the audience had just listened to. The
name o f his blushing protege was Moritz M oszkowsky [s/c ].59
According to Luedtke, however, this was not the first time Moszkowski met and played
for Liszt:
Sometime in 1870, Moszkowski and his friend Carl W ittkowsky had the pleasure
o f calling on Franz Liszt at Weimar. .. . During their visit, and at a request to play
something, Moritz performed one o f the master's Hungarian Rhapsodies . . . . 60
In April 1881 the Boston-based Dwight's Journal also published an article that
said, "Kullak considers Moritz Moszkowski the best pupil he ever had. This artist was
also the best at W eimar in the summer o f'7 9 .”61 The M onthly Musical Record in 1881
confirmed M oszkowski’s growing reputation:
We are able to state with authority that [Moszkowski's compositions] have won
the warmest recognition from no less eminent a musician than the Abbe Liszt.62
Although it is unclear from the article exactly to which compositions Liszt gave praise (it
is also unlikely that the unpublished piano concerto score was still being discussed), the
fact that Liszt was continuing to take an interest in Moszkowski is most notable.
Moszkowski refers to his first piano concerto in a humorous biographical sketch
that he sent to Ernst Perabo (1845-1920), a German musician who resided in Boston.
59 The Musician 6, no. 4 (April 1901): 114.

60 Luedtke, 7. Verification o f this fact is not possible because Luedtke does not cite his
source.
61 D w ight’s Journal o f Music 41, no. 8 (April 9, 1881): 61.
62 "Our Music Pages," The Monthly M usical Record 11, no. 126 (June 1, 1881): 115-16.
15
This sketch was published in The Etude a year after Perabo received it in 1887.
Moszkowski writes:
In spite o f the theoretical instruction of Kiel and W uerst, a lively desire to

compose was early aroused in me. I perpetrated in time an overture, a piano
concerto, two symphonies, piano and violin pieces, songs, etc. I should be happy
to send you my piano concerto but for two reasons: first, it is worthless; second, it
is most convenient (the score being four hundred pages long) for making my
piano stool higher when I am engaged in studying better works.63
In spite of M oszkowski’s self-deprecating attitude, it is sad to note that this work was
never published and is now lost. If it was anything akin to his extant piano concerto, op.
59 in E major, then it must surely have been a fine work, worthy o f the attention that
Liszt gave to it.
M ore Compositional Achievements
In 1876, when he was twenty-two, Moszkowski had a major compositional success in the
publication o f his Five Spanish Dances, op. 12, for piano, four hands. M oszkow ski’s
facile keyboard writing as well as the extreme popularity o f the duet medium contributed
to the undeniable success o f these works.64 Both Brahms and Dvorak contributed their
own significant sets o f piano duets: Dvorak’s Slavonic Dances (published 1878) and
Brahms’s Hungarian Dances (books 1 and 2 published 1869; books 3 and 4 published
1880). Moszkowski's op. 12, however, retained its popular status, because in addition to
63 The Etude 5, no. 2 (February 1887): 19. There are several references to this work that
support its existence, including references in a biographical sketch at the beginning o f the
St. Louis Art Publication Society's 1913 publication o f his op. 18 Scherzino and the 1928
publication o f his Etincelles, op. 36, no. 6. There is also the 1901 article in The Musician
that mentions the performance o f this concerto with Liszt; cf. note 59.
64 The social effects o f four-hand arrangements, opera reductions, and duets are more
thoroughly discussed in the “Popularity o f Transcriptions” section in chapter 2.
16
melodically capturing the listener's imagination, these dances do not contain the technical
challenges found in the Brahms and Dvorak pieces.
There is a charming story regarding the compositional inspiration o f these pieces
that M oszkowski related to The Etude. He described him self as being completely without
any monetary resources and in need o f a loan. He decided to go and visit his friends, the
Scharwenkas, to procure the necessary finances; however, only Philipp, sitting on his
couch and smoking a pipe, was at home. Seeing Philipp smoking, Moritz asked for a
cigar. Philipp replied that he had none but offered Moszkowski an empty pipe.
Moszkowski, who had become annoyed that Philipp was clearly smoking yet did not
offer tobacco to his guest, commented on the inequity o f the situation. Philipp then
replied:
“I f you will smoke what I am smoking, I am satisfied.” Philipp, then emptied his
pipe and prepared it anew by drawing out o f a hole in the sofa some o f the
seagrass used to stuff it, which he put in his pipe. For a moment I [Moszkowski]
was speechless with astonishment.
Now it was clear that I could not borrow money from a man who was using his
sofa for smoking. I went back home, sat down at my table, and began to look
through m y sketchbook. A motive o f Spanish character struck m y eyes . . . ,65
The resulting compositions were the well-known Spanish Dances.
These works w ere written at a time when Spanish music was relatively unknown,
so their "grace, originality and wild abandon . . . were quick in catching the public
fancy."66 Fifty years after their composition, these same works were described as "ever
65 “The Most Remarkable Pianoforte Recital Ever Given,” The Etude 50, no. 2 (February
1922): 80.
66 George Lowe, "The Piano Works o f Moszkowski," The M onthly M usical Record 45
no. 533 (M ay 1, 1915): 129.
17
fresh dances on Spanish themes."67 They became so popular in Moszkowski's lifetime
that they were arranged for a variety o f instruments and groupings. According to
Luedtke, the publishing firm Simon listed eleven (!) different versions o f these pieces in
their catalogue, including arrangements for: piano, two hands (this edition was made by
Kullak), four hands, and eight hands; grand orchestra (the second and fifth dances were
orchestrated by Philipp Scharwenka); violin and piano; two violins; flute and piano;
piano and two violins; zither; two zithers; and cello and piano. Haddow states that
these pieces "made a great deal o f money for their composer and a fortune for their
publisher."69 The success of these pieces no doubt acted as inspiration for Moszkowski's
other two sets o f Spanish Dances, the Album Espagnole, op. 21, published by Hainauer in
1879, and the Neue Spanische Tanze, op. 65, published by Peters in 1900. Also
following the foreign theme were the six Aus aller Herren Landern, op. 23, published by
Hainauer in 1879 and reprinted in 1884. These works are arguably among Moszkowski's
most famous and enduringly popular pieces.
Another important compositional landmark occurred in 1876 with the completion
o f M oszkowski’s first large-scale symphonic poem. Johanna d'Arc, op. 19, a four-
movement work dedicated to Philipp Scharwenka, is based on Schiller's Jungfrau von

"70
Orleans. Although it was not published until 1879, the Berliner Sinfonie-Kapelle,
67 Sydney Grew, "Persons and Personalities: Moszkowski," The Gramophone 3, no. 2

(July 1925): 58.
68 Luedtke, 15. The variety o f arrangements perhaps tells us much about the multifarious
groups for domestic music-making at this time.
9 Haddow, 7.
70 Alexander M oszkowski wrote an extremely famous parody on another Schiller work
called Glocke. Schiller was one o f the few authors with whom Issac Moszkowski was
familiar. In the quest for his son’s education Issac had exposed Alexander to Schiller’s
writings at an early age.
18
conducted by Franz Mannstadt, premiered the work on February 23, 1877. This work
also introduced Moszkowski to the Philharmonic Society's concerts in London in 1885
(the first of at least six performances o f Moszkowski's music). Although the review in
The Musical Times was mixed, Johanna d'Arc was described as a work "full o f melody,
original thought, and charming effects o f instrumentation."71 Johanna d'Arc received a
considerable amount o f recognition shortly after its publication. Luedtke cites
performances in St. Petersburg during the 1879-80 season, under the auspices o f Rimsky-
Korsakov, as well as performances in Warsaw, Wiesbaden, Amsterdam, Hannover, and
Konigsberg, although no specific dates are given for these performances. In addition,
Luedtke has identified what is most likely the United States premiere o f this work at New
York City's old Steinway Hall in December 1880 as well as its performance at a pair o f
concerts in Boston in February 1881.72 As a young composer o f twenty-seven,
Moszkowski had already garnered a significant international following.
The symphonic poem was not the only work that raised awareness o f
Moszkowski's music. The June 1, 1881 issue o f The Monthly M usical Record briefly
outlines the latest Moszkowski works and describes his compositions as having "original
and really melodious thoughts." The article goes on to state that "on the Continent the
young composer's works are very highly esteemed.”73
Moszkowski's Serenata, op. 15, was published in 1877. Like the earlier Spanish
Dances, this piece became another musical gold mine with an enduring legacy. The
catchy opening melody spawned as many as eighteen different arrangements available
71 Percy A, Scholes, The M irror o f Music, 1844-1944: A Century o f M usical Life in

Britain as Reflected in the Pages o f The Musical Times (London: Novello, 1947), 436.
72 Luedtke, 32.
73 "Our Music Pages," 115-16.
19
from the Hainauer catalogue.74 In addition to the more typical arrangements, the
popularity o f this work inspired versions for mandolin and piano, lute (or guitar),
harmonium, and men's chorus, among many others.
The Perform er’s D emise
M oszkowski's reputation as a performer was also growing. In a Singakademie
concert given on February 15, 1879, and reviewed in the Deutsche Musiker-Zeitung,
n c #
Moszkowski is described as "ein Poet am Klavier." A review m D wight's Journal
states "Moszkowski's playing is truly masterful, and lacks only a little warmth to make it
almost perfect."76
In February 1880 M oszkowski played Beethoven's Piano Concerto no. 4 with the
Berliner Sinfonie-Kapelle. For his cadenza he chose the version written by Anton
Rubinstein.77 The review in the Deutsche Musiker-Zeitung mentions that this was the
first time Moszkowski had performed this work in public and that “w ithout question this
put him in the first place among our own younger pianists."78 The review goes on to
praise Moszkowski's technical skill and musical interpretation, saying that “despite the
74 Luedtke, 20.
75 Luedtke, 34.
76 Dwight's Journal o f M usic (April 9, 1881): 61.
77 Moszkowski's friend and colleague from Kullak's Akademie, the French violinist Emil
Sauret (1852-1920), played Rubinstein's violin concerto in G m ajor on the same program.
Sauret played many chamber concerts with M oszkowski and was the dedicatee o f
Moszkowski's only violin concerto, op. 30.
78 Deutsche M usiker-Zeitung (Berlin) February 21, 1880, 73.
20
79
virtuoso bravura everything to the smallest dot was painstakingly worked out.” A
curious note toward the end o f the review, however, says:
But Moritz M oszkowski did not appear again, [and] had to omit the four promised
shorter solos, since the enormous joyful excitement, so I heard, had affected an
old heart condition.80
Although there is no further mention o f this condition, Reinhold Sietz’s article in Die
M usik in Geschichte und Gegenwart (MGG) notes that in the 1880s Moszkowski had to
cease performing because o f "eine nervose A rm erkrankung,"81 a disease of the arms
involving the nerves, perhaps tendinitis. Luedtke states that "in the early 1880s, after a
concert tour, he [Moszkowski] went into seclusion for the purpose o f further developing
his technique— practicing ten hours a day." No source for this tantalizing piece o f
information is cited. If this is true, perhaps Moszkowski was trying to emulate a similar
technical transformation to the one that Liszt underwent in his early twenties.83 Luedtke
goes on to state, again without documentation:
The condition was severe enough so that for seventeen or eighteen years his
career as a concert pianist had to be abandoned. He sought relief from many
doctors and finally a Parisian physician was able to help him .84
79
Q/V
Deutsche Musiker-Zeitung, February 21, 1880: 73.
Deutsche Musiker-Zeitung, February 21, 1880: 74. “Moritz M oszkowski erschien aber
nicht wieder, er musste die vier versprochenen kleineren Soli schuldig bleiben, da die
ungeheu’re freudige Aufregung ein, wie ich horte, alteres Herzleiden in M itleidenschaft
gezogen hatte.” Perhaps the mysterious heart condition referred to palpitations.
81 Reinhold Sietz “M oszkowski,” Die M usik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Friedrich
Blume (Kassel, 1961) 9: col. 637.
82 Luedtke, 37.
83 According to Schonberg, 291, Eugene d ’Albert, Rafael Joseffy, M oriz Rosenthal, Emil
von Sauer, and Constantin von Sternberg were among the most sought-after artists o f the
latter part of the nineteenth century and early twentieth century.
84 Luedtke, 37-38.
21
Moszkowski the Teacher
As a teacher, M oszkowski influenced a wide range o f musicians. Among his
students was Joseph Hoffman, who studied with him from 1888 through 1892, before
moving on to work with Anton Rubinstein.85 Other students that Haddow mentions are
Sir Thomas Beecham (1879-1961),86 Joaquin Turina (1882-1949), and Joaquin Nin y
Castelland (1879-1949). Arthur Loesser points out the irony o f M oszkowski’s instructing
two of the soon-to-be "most famous Spanish Nationalistic School" performers and
composers, when his own compositions written in a pseudo-Spanish style have been
described as "fake Spanish Dances."87 Another o f M oszkowski’s students who later
came to his aid was the American pianist Ernst Schelling (1876-1939). Frank
on
Damrosch (1859-1937), a chorus master at the Metropolitan Opera, also came at great
personal and financial expense from New York to study w ith Moszkowski in Berlin
on
during the summer o f 1891. Frank had been essentially self-taught with the exception
85 Schonberg, 362.
86 Robert W. Schaaf, "Moszkowski's Splashy Piano Concerto —A Prize Romantic
Discovery, " High Fidelity/M usical America 21, no. 1 (January 1971): 86, as cited in
Haddow, 8.
87 Arthur Loesser, Men, Women and Pianos: A Social History (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1954), 544.
88 Frank Damrosch’s father, Leopold Damrosch, was the conductor o f the Metropolitan
Opera House during the latter part o f the nineteenth century. Frank’s older brother,
Walter, later succeeded his father as principal conductor upon Leopold’s death.
Apparently, Liszt had helped Leopold secure his first conducting position, which was in
Breslau where Moszkowski and his brother, Alexander, heard him conduct. At that time,
Leopold wanted to get married but had no money. In desperation he went to Liszt to ask
for help. Liszt graciously agreed but requested in jest the "usual payment in return."
When Leopold's first child was bom, he was named Frank, but called Franz, as re
payment for the debt to Liszt.
9 Lucy Poate Stebbins and Richard Poate Stebbins, Let the People Sing (Durham, N.C.:
Duke University Press, 1945), 117.
22
o f some "youthful studies under Ferdinand von Inten."90 He decided that there was "no
master in America with whom he cared to associate h im self,.. . and the man who
seemed likeliest to fill his needs was .. .the Pole, Moritz M oszkowski."91 Frank wrote to
his wife describing the "tact and sympathy [that Moszkowski displayed] in apprehending
his position."92 He added:
[Frank] was old enough to appreciate his luck. Moszkowski never stinted the
time he gave often protracting a lesson to an hour and a half or to two hours.
[Moszkowski] explained that between colleagues there could be no question of
fees paid and received.93
We can only imagine M oszkowski’s emotion at being sought after as a teacher by the son
of one o f his own early musical influences.
In describing his own teaching experiences Moszkowski said that "if I were to
reduce my teaching experience to statistics, I should say that out o f every twenty piano
playing individuals who have come to me for lessons, nineteen have been ladies, and that
of these nineteen, sixteen have been Americans."94 Moszkowski's teaching experiences
were not completely limited to adults. According to him, he
sometimes had the task o f supporting tender youth in its first steps over the ivory.
This was always a severe ordeal for me, for with children one m ust have first and
foremost extraordinary patience, and that was never my strongest side.95
90 Stebbins and Stebbins, Let the People Sing, 116.

91 Stebbins and Stebbins, 116-17.
92 Stebbins and Stebbins, 121.
93 Stebbins and Stebbins, 121.
94 Moritz Moszkowski, “A Chat by Moszkowski," Music 4 (May 1893): 75.
95 Moszkowski, “A Chat by Moszkowski,” 77. This comment turns out to be self-
fulfilling with his own children.
23
Romance and Family
In the early 1880s M oszkowski, now in his late twenties, took up residence in
Paris at 6 Rue Pracidin96 and became a regular at the Chaminade Salon.97 Such musical
luminaries as Georges Bizet (1838-1875), Emanuel Chabrier (1841-1894), and Benjamin
Godard (1849-1895), among others, frequented this well-known salon.98 Here they
enriched and supported the musical life o f the French composer and pianist Cecile
Chaminade (1857-1944). In 1883 Moritz, now known as Maurice, became acquainted
with Cecile's younger sister, Henriette (September 2, 1863 -January 13, 1900).
Like her sisters and brother, Henriette was brought up in a bourgeois house where
music was an important part o f life, even though she was not a m usician like Cecile. Her
father, Pierre Hypolyte Chaminade,99 “was the highly respected director for France o f a
well-known insurance company at that time. He was an astute businessman who owned
various properties in Paris, Le Vesinet, and in the Perigord."100 Cecile describes fondly
the memories o f the picnics and races on the grass at Le Vesinet and the limpid stream,
perfumed terrace, immense linden trees, and broad stretches o f open country in the
Perigord.101
96 Acte de Marriage, M aurice et Henriette M oszkowski, Document #16-176, October 28,

1884.
97 Cecile Tardif, Portrait de Cecile Chaminade (Montreal: Louis Courteau, 1993), 59.
"... le compositeur M oszkowski, un habitue du salon des Chaminade."
98 Cecile Chaminade, "Recollections o f M y Musical Childhood," The Etude 29, no. 12
(December 1911): 805-06.
99 Marie-Stephanie Courtin was Chaminade's wife and the mother o f his six children,
only four o f whom survived childhood.
100 From personal communication with Cecile Tardif, November 2, 2001.
101 Cecile Chaminade, “Recollections,” 805-06.
24
Moszkowski was described as “tall, thin, his face decorated w ith a fine mustache
• 109
in the current fashion o f the day, witty, a fine conversationalist.” According to an
anecdote by Gabriel Astruc, a founder o f the Champs-Elysees Theatre, M oszkowski met
Henriette in 1883 at a ball. During the course o f the evening M oszkowski tripped on a
lady's shoe that fell from her foot as she danced. Debonair as always, Moszkowski said
"I will m arry that foot!"103 Unfortunately, Chaminade’s father did not approve o f the
match and refused to consent to the marriage.
A similar situation had arisen with Cecile when she fell in love with Paul
Landowski, a penniless Jewish Pole. Cecile "deferred to her father's w ishes"104 when
Monsieur Chaminade urged her not to marry him. The headstrong Henriette, however,
did not acquiesce and defied her father's request. On Tuesday, October 28, 1884, at
11:30 a.m., a civil officer married Maurice and Henriette.105 Her father did not
completely denounce his youngest child, however, and sent two o f his wife's brothers to
act as witnesses.106 At the time these uncles, Pierre Antoine Charles Courtin and his
younger brother Charles-Marie Ludovic Courtin, worked at the M arine M inistry in Paris.
None o f M oszkowski's family attended the civil ceremony. His father had passed
away sometime earlier,107 while his mother and brother apparently remained in Berlin.
102 f • •
Cecile Tardif, Portrait, 59. "Grand, mince, le visage om e d'une fine moustache a la
mode du jour, spirituel, fin causeur.”
103 Tardif, 59. “J'epouserai ce pied!”
104 Personal communication with Cecile Tardif, November 5, 2001.
105Moszkowski used both the German and French form o f his first name. The name
“Maurice” appears in his marriage certificate as well as many in his compositional
publications. Interestingly, while the marriage certificate refers to Moszkowski as
“Maurice” he him self signed the document “M oritz.”
106 Tardif, 60.
107 Although the actual death date remains unknown, the wedding document indicates
that his father was deceased at the time o f the marriage.
25
Instead, Moszkowski's friend Frederic Guillaume Otto Prandes, a writer in Paris, acted on
his behalf as a witness.
Although Pierre Chaminade would not provide a dowry for his daughter
Henriette, he did agree to give her a "10,000 franc advance on her inheritance; not an
insubstantial sum."108 The newly-weds moved back to Berlin where Moszkowski
continued with his musical endeavors.
W hile it is understandable that Monsieur Chaminade objected to Cecile's marriage
because it was to someone who could not maintain the social and financial status to
which she was accustomed, this could not have been the only reason because Henriette's
betrothed was certainly not poor. Not only did Moszkowski come from a family o f
financial means, but also he him self was a successful composer, pianist, and teacher.
Perhaps the fact that both Landowski (Cecile’s original fiance) and Moszkowski were
Polish Jews played a role in Pierre Chaminade's thinking. Moszkowski viewed him self
as culturally assimilated and was certainly regarded as cosmopolitan. Moszkowski,
however, was not "Christian," and the Chaminade family was Catholic. Perhaps the
disparity between the religions also contributed to Monsieur Chaminade's disapproval.
Although the Chaminade Salon was well known for receiving Jewish artists such as
W hilhelm Enoch, Gabriel Astruc, Michel Levy, and Louise Steiger,109 there is a
difference between sponsoring a culturally and socially progressive salon and having
one’s children marry Jews, especially because VAffaire Dreyfus, "far from being over,
was erupting in full force."110

109 Tardif, 60.
26
Two other facets m ay have contributed to Pierre Chaminade's unhappiness with
Henrietie's choice o f a husband. Even if the religious issue was not the primary concern,
the fact that M oszkowski intended to return to Berlin could not have sat well with him.
The strong anti-German sentiment that lingered after the Franco-Prussian war o f 1870 left
"deep scars on the French psyche. Young men, including Henriette’s brother, flocked to
military school seeking revenge."111 This anti-German pressure spilled over from politics
to music. The creation o f the Societe Nationale de Musique in 1871 took as its motto Ars
Gallica — French Art. This resulted in a backlash against performances o f German

112
music. “Also raging at the time were the pro- and anti-Wagner factions." Therefore,
even if Pierre Chaminade was neither anti-Semitic nor anti-German, it is not surprising
that under pressure from the surrounding social and political situation he formally
denounced Henriette's marital choice. His generous advance on her inheritance in lieu o f
a dowry, however, helped maintain both his public social position and private, familial
relationships.
In 1885, shortly after Moritz and Henriette moved back to Berlin, Moszkowski
was invited to England for the first o f his six visits. The concert at the London
Philharmonic Society featured a performance o f his symphonic poem Johanna d'Arc and
his Quatre Morceaux, op. 35, dedicated "a ma chere femme."113
In 1886, there was another visit to London, this time for a performance o f his
Violin Concerto, op. 30, performed by the Hungarian Tivadar Nachez (1859-1930)
followed by a subsequent performance o f his First Suite for orchestra, op. 39, specifically

113
Opus 35 was published in 1885 by Hainauer.
27
written for the Philharmonic Society. Throughout his career in England, M oszkowski
acquired a strong popular appeal, while the critics remained aloof and unsupportive with
perhaps a grudging touch o f praise. The reviews for the 1886 performances illustrate this
point. Regarding the violin concerto,
It was unanimously condemned for a thing feeble, inordinately long, and empty o f
interest; though the slow music won a word o f moderate approval. Nachez played
so well that the performance moved the audience to enthusiasm.114
A review o f the same piece in the Leipzig M usikalische Wochenblatt from an
1883 performance by Sauret describes the violin concerto as having "many good features,
[being] advantageously written for the instrument, and [possessing] good orchestral
scoring."115
In June o f 1886, M oszkowski conducted his First Suite, op. 39, w ith the
Philhannonic Society. Again the reviews were not especially complimentary towards the
composition itself, but the audience's enthusiasm was so marked that the reviewer felt it
necessary to make mention o f that fact:
The composer, who conducted, was recalled twice, and overwhelmed with
applause; yet, in spite o f its undoubted success, we cannot say that this Suite is o f
sufficient importance to occupy so large a portion o f a Philharmonic program .116
Nevertheless, the work was supported strongly enough that it was programmed for the
opening concert o f the 1887 Philharmonic season.117
114 Grew, “Persons and Personalities,” 59.

115 As cited by Luedtke, 39; from a January 27, 1883, review.
116 The M usical Times 27, no. 521 (July 1, 1886): 403.
117 Miles Birket Foster, History o f the Philharmonic Society o f London: 1813-1912
(London: John Lane, 1912), 467.
28
This was a good time for M oszkowski to remain close to home because his wife
was expecting the arrival o f their first child. On October 4, 1887, in Berlin, Marcel was
bom. He was followed by his sister, Sylvia, a year-and-a-half later in 1889.
Moszkowski returned to London in 1890 to conduct his Second Suite for
Orchestra, op. 47, a w ork dedicated to Hans von Bulow. As expected, The M usical Times
gave it a sour review, while the friendlier Monthly M usical Record provided a warmer
reception. Although The M usical Times was not terribly enthusiastic about the first five
movements o f the suite, the strongest invective was reserved for the concluding M arch,
saying that it was "so obviously an imitation o f W agner that the hearer is compelled
either to smile or frown. This should be excised forthwith. It spoils the whole
thing. . . ,"118 In contrast to this dour description the M onthly M usical Record declared
that
Yet another 'red-letter day' is to the credit o f the energetic directors, who
produced another important work— Orchestral Suite in G M inor by Moritz
M oszkowski— under the composer's personal and, let us add, highly artistic
conductorship.
The work is in six movements, and although it takes about three-quarters o f an

hour in performance (as we were informed— a curious habit o f some
connoisseurs to 'time' a musical work like a horse race or a railway journey), there
is not a dull moment throughout, owing to the freshness o f inspiration, variety,
masterly treatment, and splendid orchestration, including novel devices, which
characterize this remarkable w ork.119
Despite the disparity between reviews, Moszkowski was invited to London several more
times throughout the remainder o f his life.
Around the end o f 1891 and the beginning o f 1892 a traumatic event took place in
the personal lives o f the Moszkowski family. Henriette, who was nineteen years younger
118 The M usical Times 31, no. 569 (July 1890): 406.
119 The M onthly M usical Record 20, no. 235 (July 1890): 160.
29
than her husband, had grown increasingly unhappy and frustrated with her marriage. In a
scandalous and shocking event, she abandoned Moritz and her children, sneaking out
"comme une voleuse,"120 and returned to Paris. She most likely never saw her children
again.121 The reasons that precipitated this ignominious circumstance remain uncertain.
After Henriette's departure, Moszkowski's mother, Sara, moved to her son's

122 •
apartment on Genthiner Strasse to help take care o f his two small children. Life was
not wonderful for the Moszkowski children. Their father, busy with his conducting,
teaching, and composing, had little time for pleasantries and admitted a lack o f patience
and tolerance for young children.123 This is surprising considering that Moszkowski was
regarded as a gentle person who never harmed anyone, even in jest. His sister-in-law,
Cecile Chaminade, is quoted as saying,".. . his wit, caustic as it may be, harms nobody,
and his barbs are free from venom.”124 Nonetheless, his children had an unhappy
childhood with the exception of “two guardian angels,"125 a French maid and a Czech
cook.
It has been suggested that Henriette "went with a handsomer m an."126 Luedtke
states that she "ran o ff with and subsequently married one o f his [Moszkowski's] best
friends, (Ludwig Fulda [1862-1939], German playwright and n o v elist). . . a matter
120 "Like a thief" was the expression used by Marcel Moszkowski's ex-wife, Algae
Virginie Matossian Moszkowski de la Blanchetai, in a personal correspondence with
Cecile Tardif, who has graciously allowed me to study the correspondence and granted
permission for this quotation.
121Tardif, 62.
122 Sara Hirschberg M oszkowski’s presence is confirmed in the article “Moritz
Moszkowski,” The Musician 3, no. 5 (May 1898): 131.
123 Moszkowski, "A Chat by Moszkowski," 77.
124 Chaminade, 806.
125 Personal correspondence between Cecile Tardif and M arcel Moszkowski's ex-wife (no
date).
126 “Moritz M oszkowski,” The Musician, 131.
127
Moszkowski never spoke of, nor was reference to it by others ever encouraged.”
While it is possible that she initially left Moritz for another man (perhaps Fulda), she did
not re-marry right away. Concluding nearly eight years o f marriage, M oritz and
Henriette's divorce decree was finalized on June 2, 1892.128 Six years later Henriette
married Paul-Alphonse Henrys, a tramway inspector. Henrys, who was bom in Vosges
on March 23, 1856, was also divorced. Henriette's mother refused to support her second
marriage, going so far as to have a notarized document drawn up to this effect. Tardif
has suggested that this was because o f the stigma attached to "a double divorce in a
Catholic household."129 Instead her sister Cecile acted as a witness for this second
marriage.130 Sadly, Henriette died just seventeen months later, on January 13, 1900.131
She was, however, at some level reconciled with her family because she was buried near
Le Vesinet (one o f the Chaminade family’s residences) in the Chaminade family plot in
the Croissy cem etery.132
Despite the devastating marital upheaval, Moszkowski continued to compose. In
a departure from his previous compositional genres, Moszkowski embarked on a full-
scale operatic endeavor: Boabd.il, der letzten Maurenk.dn.ig. For his subject Moszkowski
chose a story based on Boabdil, the last M oorish king, and his stmggle for independence
against the powerful Spanish rulership o f Ferdinand and Isabella. His old friend Carl
127 Luedtke, 66-67. Luedtke, however, does not cite the source o f this information;
therefore, its authenticity cannot be verified.
128 This information appears as an addition to the original "Acte de Marriage" and has
also been confirmed by Cecile Tardif; cf. note 96 above.
129 Personal communication with Cecile Tardif, M arch 18, 2002.
130 In her book, T ardif suggests that Cecile was motivated to help Henriette by a
premonition o f her own future with her own second marriage to a divorced man.
131 Tardif, 63.
31
Wittkowsky wrote the libretto. After a series o f delays the opera was finally premiered
on April 21, 1892, at the Royal Opera in Berlin and received a favorable review .133
Luedtke mentions the announcement o f several other perform ances in 1892 and
1893, in Prague, Budapest, St. Petersburg, and Vienna.134 In January 1893 Boabdil
arrived in the United States by way o f Oscar Hammerstein, who “secured the American
rights for his M anhattan Opera Company.” 135
In 1893, further recognition and stature to M oszkowski’s advancing career
occurred when he was elected to the Royal Prussian Academy o f A rts.136 Not only was
he an admired teacher, composer, and virtuoso, but his compositions were generating
royalties. In an 1895 article in Music, Emil Liebling wrote:
Moszkowski is fortunate . . . that we all play his works . . . because we like them.
Moszkowski is still a comparatively young man; he has crowded much work into
a brief space o f time. Among living composers for the piano he easily ranks first
as far as popularity is concerned. He has the rare gift o f appealing to the
cultivated musical mind, while at the same time he satisfies that longing for
melody, which like hope, ‘springs eternal in the human breast.’137
• • 1^8
After his success in the short ballet Fackeltanz, op. 51, M oszkowski decided to
tackle his first and only full-length ballet, Laurin, op. 53. The ballet was premiered at the
133 “Music in Berlin,” The M usical Times 33, no. 591 (M ay 1, 1892): 285.
134 Luedtke, 80. Luedtke admits that he does not know if some o f these performances
actually took place.
135 Luedtke, 80.
136 Moszkowski mentions this in the biographical preface preceding the Scherzino, op.
18. Eastick in his article for New Grove says that M oszkowski was “ elected a member of
the Berlin Akademie der Kiinste in 1893.” Luedtke states on page 116, however, that
Moszkowski was elected to the Berlin Academy o f Fine Arts in 1899. He says this date
is “recorded in some books” without specifically mentioning the sources.
137 Liebling, 119.
138 M oszkowski’s first ballet experiment is found in Boabdil. Fackeltanz was written in
1893 but not premiered until 1894 and was dedicated to the Corps de Ballet o f the Royal
Opera in Berlin. Luedtke hypothesizes that Fackeltanz was w ritten as a gesture o f
appreciation for the Royal B allet’s dancing in M oszkowski’s Boabdil. See Luedtke, 82.
32
Royal Opera in Berlin on February 28,1896, but by all accounts it was a resounding
failure.139 Neither the story’s scenario (based on an old German fairy tale) nor the music
won critical admiration. The M usical Courier's Berlin correspondent says that only
“with the most strenuous, and quite apparent efforts o f their many personal friends in the
house” 140 were M oszkowski and Graeb, the choreographer, recalled to the stage for
acknowledging bows. The reviewer goes on to add, “. . . it is evident that Laurin proved
more a fiasco than a success.” 141
While M oszkowski’s gift for ballet m ay not have been a credit to his reputation in
1896, that same year he and his older brother, Alexander, composed a satirical musical
spoof together that met with resounding success. W ritten in honor o f Carl Bechstein’s 142
seventieth birthday, Anton Notenquetscher am Clavier: Musikalische Parodieen (1896)
displayed the brothers’ keen sense o f humor and wit. Anecdotes revealing M oritz’s
temperament are amply documented throughout his life.143 Anton Notenquetscher
(Anton, the note-scribbler) exemplifies a charming combination o f musical and literary
satire. Alexander’s text is in the form o f a parody based on G oethe’s Faust in which a
student inquires o f M ephistopheles exactly what he should study. Instead o f
investigating the various areas of formal education, M oritz and Alexander’s student is
interested in the various styles o f composition. Thus, in the form o f a theme and eight
variations, the student learns aboui different composers through A lexander’s text and
139 Luedtke, 83.

140 The Musical Courier 32, no. 13 (March 25, 1896): 8.
141 One o f the ballet numbers in Laurin is a Bacchanal. This was M oszkow ski’s first
attempt at writing a Bacchanal. Perhaps this experience attracted him to the Bacchanal in
W agner’s Tannhaiiser that he subsequently chose as a transcription subject in 1914.
142 Bechstein was the famous Berlin piano builder.
143 Luedtke’s monograph abounds with vignettes, stories, and other humorous items in
which Moritz is involved.
33
M oritz’s musical caricatures. Moritz captures each composer’s idiosyncratic style:
Czerny’s variation is full o f scales and runs o f broken triads; Clementi is depicted with
never-ending double thirds and sixths; Bach’s variation is written in the form o f an
invention; Brahms is portrayed through hemiolas and cross rhythms o f two-against-three;
Chopin’s variation is reminiscent o f a boisterous Polonaise; Rubinstein’s variation
illustrates his love of upward sweeping rolled chords immediately followed by downward
cascades o f thirty-second notes, a pattern that is pervasive and repetitious throughout the
three pages allotted to the composer. Liszt is given a place o f honor at the close o f the
work. Needless to say, his variation is the lengthiest o f the entire set and is imbued with
octaves and other bravura techniques that utilize the full keyboard range.
Anton Notenquetscher received much praise and accolades from the German
press, including the Musikalischer Wochenblatt, Mannheimer Journal, and Berliner
Fremdenblatt, as well as from composers such as Engelbert Humperdinck and influential
critics such as Eduard Hanslick.144
Although Alexander had musical lessons as a youngster, he did not choose a
performing or composing career and instead became a “distinguished music critic for the
Deutsches Montagsblatt.”145 In addition to his musical critiques, Alexander “won
popularity through his contributions to newspapers and magazines, and through his
144 Alexander Moszkowski and Moritz Moszkowski, Anton Notenquetscher am Klavier”

(Berlin: Hugo Steinitz, n.d.). These testimonials can be found in the prefacing pages o f
this edition, although no page numbers are given. Notenquetscher was so popular that
Alexander went on to publish three more editions: Anton Notenquetscher, neue
Humorisken, 1893; Anton Notenquetscher heitere Dichtungen (funny poems), 1894; and
Anton Notenquetscher lustige Fahren (fun trips), 1895.
145 [David Ewen,] “Alexander Moszkowski.” In The Universal Jewish Encyclopedia. Ed.
Isaac Landman. New York: Ktav Publishing House, [c. 1944], 8: 21.
34
collections o f humorous stories.” 146 He was also an editor for the Lustigen Blatter in
Berlin.147
A strong familial resemblance between the brothers can be seen in photographs.
Both brothers appear elegantly dressed, sporting large, thick, cultivated mustaches. In
one photograph A lexander’s handlebar mustache extends beyond the sides o f his face
148
before curling upward. Their eyes and noses unmistakably mark them as brothers, yet
while Moritz retained a full head of hair throughout his life, Alexander became virtually
bald.
There is another interesting difference, however, between the two. Moritz
appears to have shed his Jewish connection, going so far as to m arry a Catholic woman.
Other than the one musical anecdote mentioned above in which Moszkowski alludes to
his religion in a guest book, no other religious connections have been discovered.
Alexander, on the other hand, remained closer to his religious birthright. In 1911 he
published a humorous story called D ie Judische K iste149 and in 1923 a book called Der
Jiidische Witz und seine Philosophie.150 Alexander is described as one “who united an
extraordinary fund o f knowledge with spiritual sublimity and serenity o f mind [and]
played a vital role in Berlin society until the very end o f his life.” 151 Although he was
146 [David Ewen,] “Alexander Moszkowski,” Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, 8: 21.

147 Reinhold Sietz, 9: col. 637.
148 [David Ewen,] “Alexander Moszkowski,”8: 21.
149 [David Ewen,] “Alexander Moszkowski,”8:21. A Kiste is a box, coffer, packing
case, or trunk.
150 [David Ewen,] “Alexander M oszkowski,”8:21. Jewish W it and its Philosophy.
151 [David Ewen,] “Alexander Moszkowski,”8: 22.
35
older, Alexander outlived his brother by nine years and died in Berlin in 1934, when he
was eighty-three.152
Paris
At the age o f forty-three M oszkowski decided to leave Berlin w ith his children
and move back to Paris. The “Berlin Notes” o f The M usical Courier m entions that on
September 17, 1897, M oszkow ski’s friends gave him a “grand farewell dinner.” 153 No
confirmed understanding o f what prom pted M oszkowski to move abruptly has thus far
been revealed. Perhaps Moszkowski wanted his children to be near their mother, or
maybe he was seeking some sort o f reconciliation with her. Although there is no
evidence for the latter hypothesis, Cecile Tardif speculates that Henriette may have
wanted to appeal the divorce decree and regain custody o f the children.154 Given the
scandalous and ignominious m anner in which Henriette deserted her family, it is unlikely
that Moszkowski sought reconciliation with her. M oszkowski, however, may have
wanted to strengthen the bonds between his children and their maternal relatives.
Whether or not this was an intended consequence o f his move to Paris, both
children, Marcel and Sylvia, did become close to Henriette’s family, especially their aunt
Cecile, the composer. Although there had been suggestions that Sylvia was living with
her aunt when she died, this fact is refuted by Aglae de la Blanchetai, M arcel’s ex-wife,
152 •
According to Haddow (p. 25), Alexander was married to a woman nam ed Bertha, but
no maiden name is given.
153 “Berlin Budget Branch o f September 18, 1897,” The M usical Courier 35, no. 13
(September 29, 1897): 36.
154 Tardif, 60.
36
in a letter to Cecile T ardif in w hich she states that Sylvia was residing w ith her [Sylvia’s]
father when she died in 1906.155
Marcel also won his aunt’s affection but became embroiled in a political
controversy that caused his aunt to publicly disavow him. Unlike his maternal uncles
who maintained their military ties by taking positions in the Ministere de la Marine,
Marcel became a low-level diplomat for the Foreign Affairs M inistry.'56 In 1927 he
wrote a political essay, “L ’Experience fmanciere de M. Poincare,” which was critical o f
French financial policies. Initially this essay was published unsigned, but it received so
much attention and commentary that the writer was obliged to acknowledge his
authorship. M arcel was not completely honest, however, and in an effort to shield his
true identity he signed his name Marcel Chaminade. This greatly displeased “his aunt
Cecile because people thought he was her son.” 157 Chaminade was so concerned about
the consequences o f having her family name associated with published material that
criticized the government that she wrote a letter to the editor o f L 'Echo de Paris on July
26, 1927, clarifying exactly who M arcel’s parents were and confirming that she herself
never had any children. Chaminade further stated that “in spite o f all m y affections for
my nephew I do not share his opinions.” 158 Mme. de la Blanchetai, in private
correspondence with Cecile Tardif, confirmed that after this event Chaminade distanced
155 Personal correspondences between Cecile T ardif and Aglae de la Blanchetai (n.d.,
n.p.) currently in the possession o f Cecile Tardif, Montreal, Canada.
158 • • •
This is from a clipping o f L ’Echo de Paris that was kindly provided to me by Cecile
Tardif. Although it is likely that the letter was published the next day, there is no date or
publication identification that appears on the excerpt. The July 26, 1927, date is when
Chaminade sent her letter to the newspaper and does not reflect the actual date o f
publication.
37
herself emotionally from Marcel as well as cut him o ff from his inheritance while he was
financially unsound.159
Haddow also speculates on M oszkowski’s reasons for leaving Berlin. He
suggests that Berlin was “boring, confining, and ruled by a bigoted military
establishment, whereas Paris, in addition to being an artistic center and meeting-place for
international celebrities in the arts, offered the personal freedom so prized by the French
as well as its justly famous beauty and atmosphere.” 160 W hile it is true that the
Hohenzolleren military presence was keenly felt in Berlin and that M oszkowski, like his
countryman Paderewski, may have felt a sense o f “persecution o f the Poles in
Germany,” 161 it is not clear that these factors would have provided enough motivation to
uproot Moszkowski, who was enjoying a very successful career on m any levels. Also,
despite the popularity and allure o f Paris, the Dreyfus Affair there was causing a rise in
anti-Semitism. It is hard to imagine that Moszkowski w ould have been immune to these
popular sentiments, no matter how culturally assimilated he had become.
It is clear, nonetheless, that Moszkowski felt at home in Paris and was well loved
and respected. Chaminade describes M oszkowski’s move by saying “. . .though [he was]
of foreign birth, Parisians find it hard to believe that he has not always trodden the
asphalt of the boulevards.” 162 Furthermore, despite the philosophy and motto o f the
Societe Nationale de Musique, Moszkowski was knighted as a chevalier o f the French
159 Tardif speculates that one of the outcomes o f Chaminade’s repudiation o f Marcel was
that Chaminade’s niece, Antoinette (the daughter o f her brother Henri), used the
disownment so she could claim to be the only descendant o f Cecile.
160 Haddow, 16.
161 Ignace Jan Paderewski and Mary Lawton, The Paderewski Memoirs (New York:
Charles Schribner, 1938), 62.
162 Chaminade, 806.
38
Legion d'Honneur in 1910. Although the chevalier is the lowest order in the Legion o f
Honor, it was still an important accolade.
Moszkowski continued to be “sought for by foreign students” 163 and in the fall of
1897 was busy conducting his violin concerto and three excerpts from Boabdil with the
London Philharmonic Society.164 This particular concert was part o f a series o f three
concerts whose purpose was to feature music from well-known composers (Grieg and
Humperdinck were also scheduled). Although the review in The M usical Times was less
than complimentary, it is clear that Moszkowski had a strong popular following, or his
music would not have been programmed.165
The Piano Concerto, op. 59
Moszkowski was hard at work on a new piano concerto, and in 1898 Peters
published his Piano Concerto in E major, op. 59, which was dedicated to Josef Hoffman.
Moszkowski him self premiered the work on M ay 12, 1898, in a performance at the
London Philharmonic Society. This concert marked the first time that M oszkowski was
heard in public since his pianistic trauma o f the 1880s, as well as his first performance as
a pianist in England. Finally The Musical Times grudgingly gave M oszkowski a good
review. They admitted that while “no heaven-sent inspirations were to be expected,” 166
“as a pianist — [he] came, saw, and conquered.. . . He is a fascinating player. His
technique seems perfect; wonderful facility and brilliancy, a beautiful touch, absolute
163 “Berlin Budget Branch o f September 18, 1897,” 36.

164 Luedtke, 91.
165 Scholes, 436.
166 Scholes, 436.
39
accuracy.” 167 In addition to the concerto M oszkowski also perform ed his Caprice
Espagnole, op. 37, and the A ir from his Suite in G, op. 50. In the second h alf o f the
concert M oszkow ski’s friend, violinist Emile Sauret, perform ed B eethoven’s violin
concerto, and Moszkowski concluded the program by conducting selections from his
ballet Laurin.
The concerto was warmly received and had m any performances both in Europe
and the United States. Moszkowski performed the work in early N ovem ber 1898 in
Frankfurt am M ain and a few days later with the Berlin Philharmonic under the direction
of Arthur Nikisch on N ovem ber 7.168 Again the reviews were m ost complimentary in
terms o f both the composition and execution. According to Luedtke, “ . . .after this
performance, M oszkowski, tongue in cheek, said that had he know n he him self was to
play the concerto in public, he would not have made it so difficult.” 169
By 1900 the concerto had made its way to Chicago and in the following year to
New York City, although w ithout Moszkowski at the piano. M oszkowski could never be
persuaded to travel to the U nited States. This was in part due to his ire over copyright
issues and royalties which American publishers were able to avoid paying. In a
conversation that was relayed to the writer of a M usical Courier article by pianist
Alexander Lambert, M oszkowski explained that:
He [Moszkowski] has given up the idea o f coming across the Atlantic for the
present. If he ever did come across the Atlantic he would do so w ith the purpose
o f stopping in the United States at least for a time being. He, too, that is
M oszkowski, wishes that Congress would arrange copyright matters so that he
might be able to reap some profit from American publishers.170
167 “Philharmonic Society,” M usical Times 39, no. 664 (June 1, 1898): 388.
168 Luedtke, 100.
169 Luedtke, 102.
170 The M usical Courier 19, no. 11 (September 11, 1889): 226.
40
Although Moszkowski had his issues with American publications, he was in fact well
compensated for his music in Europe. According to Leonard Liebling, Moszkowski was
paid 10,000 Marks for his concerto, “up to that time the highest price ever paid for a
piano concerto.” 171
The 1900 Chicago performance o f the piano concerto was given by Emil Liebling
(1851-19 14 ),172 the author o f the 1895 article “Moszkowski and his Compositions” in the
Chicago-based journal Music. Miss Jessie Shay gave the New York premiere on January
19, 1901, in M endelssohn Hall under the direction o f Frank D am rosch.173 Perhaps
Damrosch arranged this concert to expose American audiences to his former teacher’s
music. According to Luedtke, Miss Shay performed the concerto a second time in New
York in June 1901, in November with the Pittsburgh Symphony under the direction o f
Victor Herbert, and later with the Boston Symphony.174
Moszkowski also gave several piano recitals in London from the end o f October
through the beginning o f November 1899. The first concert was a solo piano recital. The
first half o f the program consisted o f music by Chopin, Schumann, and Mendelssohn,
while the second half was devoted entirely to M oszkowski’s own compositions.175 The
second concert was a chamber program with violin and cello.176 Both concerts were
reviewed in The M usical Standard by the same critic who felt that M oszkow ski’s playing
showed
171 Leonard Liebling, “Variations,” The M usical Courier 50, no. 26 (June 28, 1905): 20.
172 The M usical Courier 40, no. 7 (February 14, 1900): 30.
173 Luedtke, 104.
174 Luedtke, 105.
175 Luedtke, 116.
176 Luedtke, 117.
41
the excellence o f his technique, and [that] the soundness o f his interpretations is
worthy o f admiration. He is essentially cold and matter-of-fact, almost pedantic,
and his playing is as lacking in charm as his compositions possess that
indescribable quality.177
This sentiment, although seemingly harsh, is similarly echoed in other musical reviews
received by Moszkowski throughout his career.
Back in Paris, Moszkowski concentrated primarily on composing and teaching
between 1901 and 1907. Enoch published his now famous School o f Double Notes, op.
64, in 1901. This three-part book contains invaluable drilling on scales in thirds and
double-note exercises; the final part is a culmination o f all the previously mastered skills
with four “grands etudes.” The success o f op. 64 spurred on his fifteen Etudes de
Virtuosite, op. 72, in 1904.
In addition to producing a variety o f piano works, such as Valse de Concert, op.
69 (Hainauer, 1902); Caprice-Etude and Improvisation, op. 70 (Enoch, 1902); Suite pour
Deux Violons et Piano, op.71 (Peters, 1903); Drei Stiicke, op. 73 (Hainauer, 1904);
Kaleidoskop a quatre mains, op. 74 (Peters, 1905); Zwei Stiicke, op. 75 (Otto Junne,
1906); Trois Pieces pour Piano, op. 76 (Otto Forberg, 1906); and Dix Pieces Mignonnes,
op. 77 (Schott, 1907), Moszkowski became active as an editor in both Europe and the
1 ~JQ
United States. He was engaged to produce editions o f Beethoven’s five piano concerti;
the four Chopin ballades; a significant portion o f Czerny’s output, including his concerti,
scherzi, sonatas, and etudes; the Sonatas Choisies by Hummel;179 a sizable portion o f
Liszt’s compositions, including among others the Consolations, Transcendental Etudes,
177 The Musical Standard 12, no. 307 (November 18, 1899): 329. The concert on
November 4, 1899, is reviewed on pp. 296-97.
178 Haddow, 31.
179It is most likely that the set o f Hummel’s works entitled “Sonata Choisies” was merely
a grouping o f several o f his sonatas.
42
first piano concerto, B m inor sonata, Rhapsodie Espagnole, Liebestraume, Mephisto
Waltz, and various transcriptions. In addition to these works, Moszkowski was also
180
contracted to edit musical works by Mendelssohn, Schumann, Raff, and others.
Unfortunately “few o f these editions were printed before war shortages made publication
impossible, and by the time the war ended, M oszkowski’s health had failed.” 181 The war-
ravaged counties did not have the financial resources to devote to music publishing.
Haddow notes that it was not until after Moszkowski’s death in 1925 that the French
publisher Heugel, who had initially engaged Moszkowski to do the editing, actually
published the music he had painstakingly labored over. This financial delay caused by
World War I proved to be disastrous for Moszkowski.
Moszkowski took his editing seriously. Unlike editors who allowed their own
subjective opinions to act as a guide when making editorial decisions, Moszkowski had a
modem, scholarly approach to textual criticism. In an article devoted to extolling his
personal editorial philosophy, Moszkowski wrote:
The work o f the editor [was] principally to reproduce the authentic conception of
the chosen composition with the greatest possible accuracy. This [was] best
accomplished by examination and comparison o f the various editions already in
existence; through inspection o f the manuscripts so far as these can be discovered
and are accessible; through tradition or opportune discovery o f fingerings in other
places, etc.182
The sudden death o f M oszkowski’s sixteen-year old daughter Sylvia in 1906
made no outward impact on her father’s compositional output, although it did affect her
180 Haddow, 31-32.

181 Haddow, 32.
182 Moritz Moszkowski, “The Importance o f Fine Editions o f the Classics,” The Etude 30,
no. 12 (December, 1912): 843.
43
brother Marcel, who was greatly saddened.183 M oszkowski, however, continued to
publish at a furious pace. In 1906 the first o f his piano transcriptions appeared with the
publication by Hainauer o f Chanson Boheme de VOpera Carmen. The M usical Courier
carried an announcement o f its publication saying:
M oritz M oszkowski has just published a brilliant concert arrangement o f the

“Chanson Bohem e” from Carmen. The piece is dedicated to [Moritz] Rosenthal.
It seems curious that the Carmen music has been so little paraphrased for concert
use, as it lends itself beautifully to such a scheme, and the orchestral score fairly
bristles with figuration that would bring delight to the heart o f the concert
virtuoso.184
M oszkowski made his final visit to London two years later, in 1908, when he was
fifty-four. The concert consisted entirely o f M oszkowski’s own compositions, including
a performance o f his published piano concerto with the composer at the piano, his violin
concerto, an aria from Boabdil, an orchestral arrangement o f the From Foreign Lands
piano duets, and a new, third Orchestral Suite, op. 79. This suite was written specifically
for the performance w ith the Queen’s Hall Orchestra. This time the review in The
M usical Times was more positive and “apparently did not begrudge his [M oszkowski’s]
success for a change.” 185
In that same year his piano concerto was also m aking the rounds. Fannie
Bloomfield-Zeisler, the celebrated and “brilliant pianist” 186 had added his concerto to her
repertoire. “The M oszkowski concerto must go into the repertory now; Mrs. Bloomfield-
183 Personal correspondences between Cecile Tardif and Aglae de la Blanchetai (no date).
184 The M usical Courier 52, no. 14 (April 4, 1906): 24.
185 Haddow, 22.
186 “Mme. Bloomfield-Zeisler Interviewed,” The M usical Courier 69, no. 14 (October 7,
1914): 12.
44
Zeisler has completed the niche and she will place it where it belongs.” 187 By 1910 The
Musical Courier felt:
The M oszkowski piano concerto, for instance, ranks so high and is considered o f
such musical importance that it has been played in public by such “lesser rank
pianists” as Joseph Hofmann, Teresa Carreno, Emil Liebling, Alexander Lambert,
the late Jessie Shay, [and] Bloomfield-Zeisler.188
War, Illness, and Demise, 1914-1925
W ith the advent o f W orld W ar I M oszkowski’s world turned completely around.
A variety o f disastrous events occurred which caused M oszkow ski’s final years to be
utterly tragic. After M oszkowski became a naturalized French citizen, his son Marcel
• • 190 •
decided to “take the adopted country o f his father for his nationality.” Like many
Frenchmen, Marcel felt a patriotic duty to defend his “new” country, joined the military,
and was sent to “the front in the French Army.” 190 Although Marcel survived the war
and later m arried,191 his father’s affairs were not as fortunate.
The outbreak o f W orld W ar I signaled the end o f “la Belle Epoque” in France,
where “a thin crust o f the privileged class” 192 had been enjoying the luxuries o f life. As a
financially secure, sophisticated, and erudite artist, Moszkowski was in many ways a
member o f that social sphere. As a result o f the war, however, his entire social condition
changed dramatically.
187 The Musical Courier 56, no. 5 (January 28, 1908): 6.

188 “The Prejudiced Preface W riters,” The Musical Courier 60, no. 24 (June 15, 1910):
25.
189 “Mme. Bloomfield-Zeisler Interviewed,” The M usical Courier 12.
190 “Mme. Bloomfield-Zeisler Interviewed,” 12
191 M arcel’s w ife’s maiden name was Aglae Virginie Matossian. After their divorce, she
remarried and becam e Aglae de la Blanchetai.
192
As cited in Haddow, 23 from Barbara W. Tuchman, The Proud Tower: A Portrait o f
the World Before the War, 1890-1914 (New York: Macmillan, 1966): 13.
45
Moszkowski had a major financial misfortune. He sold o ff his copyrights for a
substantial sum and invested the money in “Polish, Russian, and German securities.” 193
Perhaps he had thought these investments would prove financially sound. Sadly,
however, “.. .his investments . . . were swept away by the war.” 194 Not only were his
investments completely worthless, but he had no renewable source o f income, having
sold off his copyrights. To add insult to injury “the publishers o f his works, who bought
them, seemingly outright, have not had the courtesy to come to his aid although they have
made a profitable business on their sale . . . .” 195
M oszkowski’s financial situation was further exacerbated because both the
musical editions that he painstakingly edited as well as some o f his new compositions
were not being published due to war shortages. One o f M oszkowski’s friends who
repeatedly and publicly came to his aid was pianist-conductor Rudolph Ganz (1877-
1972). Ganz comments on M oszkowski’s situation saying:
. . .nor are they [the music publishers] publishing any o f his new works o f which
they have the manuscripts. They are no doubt well within their rights but it seems
unfortunate that so eminently successful a composer should derive almost no
income from his works which are still widely played.196
193 Grew, 58.

194 “Ganz Met M any Distinguished Musicians While In Europe,” The M usical Courier
82, no. 27 (October 1921): 43. R udolf Ganz was a Swiss bom virtuoso pianist and long
time conductor o f the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. This interview with Ganz occurred
shortly after he had returned from a European visit and had met with Moszkowski,
among others.
195 “Ganz Met M any Distinguished Musicians While In Europe,” 43.
196 “Ganz Met M any Distinguished Musicians While In Europe,” 43.
46
Sadly, it was not until after his death in 1925 that the French firm Heugel, which had
contracted the largest number o f editions from Moszkowski, decided to publish the fruits
o f his labors.197
M oszkowski’s friend and colleague from the Paris Conservatory, Isidor Philipp
(1863-1958), sent out a public call for help that was published in The M usical Courier.
Prof. Isidor Philipp . .. has sent word to this country that Moritz Moszkowski, the
distinguished pianist and composer, is in actual want in Paris. . . W hile he was
still in possession o f his health, he edited a large number o f famous piano works,
but the congestion and lack o f material in the French music publishing trade has
kept practically all o f them from being issued, so this measure o f relief is also
denied him .198
M oszkowski’s failing health and his inability to continue his musical endeavors further
compounded his troubles. By 1917 at the age o f sixty-three he had basically stopped
composing. With the exception o f his Cinq Pieces Breves, op. 95, published by Enoch in
1920, active composition ceased.
It is interesting that in his final compositional years, between 1914 and 1917,
Moszkowski wrote a series o f transcriptions and paraphrases. His first foray into this
genre, as noted above, had been in 1906 with the publication o f his Chanson Boheme de
I ’Opera “Carmen. ” His second transcription appeared in 1910 with an arrangement o f
Offenbach’s Barcarole aus Hoffmans Erzahlugen, published by Peters and dedicated to a
Mademoiselle Elizabeth Strauss. This was followed in 1914 by his final two large-scale
transcriptions, both published by Peters and based on W agner’s operas. The first,
Isoldens Tod - Schluss Szene aus Tristan und Isolde von Richard Wagner, was dedicated
to pianist-composer Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924), and the second, D er Venusberg
197 Haddow, 31.

198 “Moritz Moszkowski in Need,” 44.
47
nachkomponierte Szene aus Tannhauser von Richard Wagner was dedicated to Russian
pianist Mark Hambourg (1879-1960).
The remainder o f M oszkowski’s publications between 1918 and 1921 consisted o f
simplified versions o f famous pieces such as a chorus from H andel’s Judas
Maccabeaus199 and versions o f Handel’s Lascia ch ’io Pianga,200 the Romanza from
M ozart’s D m inor Piano Concerto,201 the Minuetto from Don Juan 202 a fragment from
Beethoven’s C m inor violin sonata,203 a fragment from Beethoven’s Emperor
Concerto,204 and a reduction o f Beethoven’s Menuet in G, no. 2.205 These simplified
arrangements were intended as student pieces. They were all published in The Etude and
assigned difficulty levels ranging from Grades 3 through 5. The publication o f these
works was part o f an effort both to revive the music o f classical composers and to make it
accessible to younger audiences. Although the remuneration that M oszkowski received
for his work from The Etude is not known, it is clear that the m agazine’s editors were
doing all they could to help him financially. No other com poser’s works are as
frequently represented in the pages o f this magazine during these post-war years.
Conflicting evidence is given regarding M oszkowski’s specific illnesses at the
end o f his life. Seitz reports in Die M usik in Geschichte und Gegenwart that Moszkowski
199 “Chorus from Judas M accabeaus” Grade 4, The Etude 38, no. 6 (June 1919): 369-71.
200 “Lascia ch’io Pianga” Grade 3 1/2, The Etude 37, no. 4 (April 1919): 231.
201 “Romanza from Concerto for Piano in D minor” Grade 3 1/2, The Etude 37, no. 7
(July 1919): 438.
202 “Minuetto from Don Juan” Grade 4, The Etude 37, no. 1 (January 1919): 38.
203 “Fragment from V iolin Sonata in C M inor” Grade 5, The Etude 37, no. 8 (August
1919): 506.
204 “Fragment from the Em peror Concerto” Grade 5, The Etude 39, no. 11 (November
1921): 738.
205 “Menuet in G (No. 2)” Grade 3, The Etude 35, no. 12 (December 1918): 781.
48
was ill with “M agenkrebs” (stomach cancer).206 An obituary found in the clipping files
of the Performing Arts Division o f the New York Public Library supports the stomach
cancer theory, stating that “for two years he had been suffering in his small apartment in
907
the Rue Nouvelle from a malady that interfered with his regular nourishment.” An
obituary in M usical America states that he underwent “several difficult and expensive
operations on his throat w hich involved long periods in hospitals.”208 The Musical
Courier had noted in M ay 1921 that Moszkowski was “the victim o f a disease which
prevents him both from composing and playing the piano.”209 The Etude in October o f
the same year explained that
The great war (which passed by like a hurricane) shot many terrible bolts. One o f
these hit M oritz Moszkowski. First the investments o f a life time were shattered;
then ill health caused by worry (at the age o f sixty-five) has made him practically
helpless; and finally he has become so seriously ill that his friends have given up
all hope for a permanent recovery.210
M oszkowski’s daughter-in-law at that time, Mme. de la Blanchetai, provides an
additional medical clue about his illnesses. While she was married to M oszkowski’s son,
Marcel, she met M oszkowski between 1920 and 1921, noting that he was weak and in
bad health. She says that Moszkowski was in a deep state o f aggravated neurasthenia.211
His troubles were further compounded by an estrangement from his son. Although the
reasons remain unknown, Mme. de la Blanchetai confirms the disaffection in a letter to
Sietz, 9: col. 637.

207 This clipping from the Performing Arts Division o f the New York Public Library’s
“Clipping File” has a typed annotation that says “Times, March 10, 1925.” It is presumed
to be from The New York Times.
208J. A. H. “Moszkowski Obituary,” Musical America 41, no. 21 (14 M arch 1925): 39.
209 “Moritz M oszkowski in Need,” 44.
210 “The Friends o f M oszkowski,” The Etude 39, no. 10 (October 1921): 629.
211 Personal correspondence between Mme. de la Blanchetai and Cecile Tardif (n.d.).
Neurasthenia is an archaic medical term that describes a state o f chronic depression.
49
Cecile Tardif.212 Because o f the poor relations between Marcel and his father, she and
Marcel did not see him frequently. A second confirmation o f the strained relationship
between Moszkowski and his son comes from evidence uncovered by Haddow' in the
Ernest Schelling Archives. Although Haddow does not elaborate on the cause o f the
distancing, he does say that information in the archive “indicates that Moszkowski
91T
refused to appeal to his son for financial help in his last years.”
While M oszkowski may have felt isolated from his family, there was a
tremendous outpouring o f support and generosity from both his colleagues and the
general public. In the spring o f 1921 a relief committee was established to give aid to
Moszkowski, with Paderewski as the honorary chairman and Ganz as the treasurer.
According to an article in The M usical Courier, other participating members included:
Harold Bauer, Fannie Bloomfield-Zeisler, Ossip Gabrilowitsch, Rudolph Ganz,

Ernest Hutcheson, Joseph Lhevinne, Yolanda Mero, Serge Rachmaninoff, Olga
Samaroff, and Ernest Schelling. This committee has already collected $600,
among its own members, Paderewski heading the list with a $100 check. An
appeal is now made to every pianist, piano teacher, and all other lovers o f the
Moszkowski music all over the country (and who has not been charmed by his
melodious works?) to contribute to the fund . . . . Mr. Ganz . . . has suggested that
everybody who had ever played a piano piece o f Moszkowski should contribute
one dollar.214
In October 1921, The Etude sent out another plea for financial assistance, reproaching
people for bemoaning the fate o f already deceased composers when there was a real
opportunity to help a living one:
212 Personal correspondence between Mme. de la Blanchetai and Cecile T ardif (n.d.).
213 Haddow, 17. At the time o f H addow ’s dissertation, the Schelling Archives were
located in New York City; however, it is most likely that these materials have been
incorporated into the International Piano Archives at the University o f M aryland, College
Park, Md.
214 “Moritz Moszkowski in Need,” 44.
50
W hy weep pathetic tears over the world’s treatment o f M ozart, Schubert, and
others who brought beauty infinite and happiness to life and who drank the dregs
on their death beds, while Moszkowski living needs a little o f your plenty?
Tributes to this great genius will gladly be forwarded. Send stamps, currency,
ch eck s,.. . anything that your spirit of liberality and your appreciation o f the
beautiful art o f Moszkowski suggests. It will all do good and will all be
appreciated.215
The next issue in Novem ber 1921 brought forth yet another request for money, but this
time with a little incentive. The Etude decided to give signed souvenir portrait cards of
Moszkowski to those who sent in “a tribute of not less than Sl.OO.”216 The article goes
on to plead the com poser’s case, saying that:
Very few will miss one dollar and the consciousness o f having compensated a
great artist who has suffered by the hand o f fate is worth more than mere
money. 217
January 1922 brought an additional story on M oszkowski’s ailing condition. The article
explains that “M. M oszkowski’s protracted illness required expensive medical attendance
and nursing, which made it necessary to make additional appeals.”218 Isidor Philipp,
writing on behalf o f Moszkowski, responded: “I cannot tell you how much your altruism
touches me.”219
Around this same time, an unprecedented musical event took place on December
21,1921, in New Y ork’s Carnegie Hall. In an enormous effort to substantially raise both
public awareness o f M oszkow ski’s failing condition and a significant amount o f money
for his continued care, M oszkowski’s former student and friend Ernst Schelling
“conceived the happy idea o f giving a testimonial concert in his honor, which should be
215 “The Friends o f M oszkowski,” 629.

216 “Souvenir de M oszkowski,” The Etude 39, no. 11 (November 1921): 701.
217 “Souvenir de M oszkowski,” 701.
218 “The Moszkowski Tribute,” The Etude 40, no. 1 (January 1922): 5.
219 “The Moszkowski Tribute,” 5.
51
thoroughly original in character.”220 Schelling and Bauer “enlisted the co-operation of
twelve other celebrated pianists who were in America during the winter”221 to join forces
and play a spectacular concert.
Fourteen incomparable grand pianos o f different makers all upon one stage at one
tim e!. . . The appearance o f the instruments upon the stage was startling, to say
the least. Looking down upon them from the boxes they could be compared with
nothing better than huge animals — great pianophants, fourteen o f them, arrayed
upon the stage.222
Besides Schelling and Harold Bauer,223 the list o f pianists included other personal friends
o f M oszkowski’s such as Ossip Gabrilowitsch (1878-1936), Rudolph Ganz, Sigismond
Stojowski,224 and Alexander Lambert (1862-1929). Pianist-composers such as Ignaz
Friedman, Leopold Godowsky, Percy Grainger (1882-1961), and Ernest Hutcheson
(1871-1951) also participated; the list o f artists was rounded out by the famous pianist-
pedagogue Josef Lhevinne (1873-1944), Elly N ey (1882-1968), Yolanda Mero (1887-
1963), and Germaine Schnitzer (1888-1982).
The various reviews o f the 1921 concert note that W alter Damrosch conducted the
ensemble, but the real story behind his involvement is revealed only in his autobiography.
Damrosch “longed to take part in the affair,”225 but as no orchestra was required,
Damrosch was prepared to act merely as a “piano mover.”226 On the morning before the
220 Damrosch, M y M usical Life, 356.

221 Damrosch, 356.
222 “The M ost Rem arkable Pianoforte Recital Ever Given,” 79.
223 M oszkowski had dedicated his 12 Etudes de Piano, op. 92 (Enoch, 1915) to Bauer.
224 M oszkowski had dedicated his Prelude and Fugue fo r String Orchestra, op. 85
(Peters, 1911) to Stojowski.
225 Damrosch, 356. Damrosch writes that the services o f Dam rosch’s orchestra were
offered, but with fourteen pianos onstage there was no room to accommodate additional
musicians.
226 Damrosch, 356.
52
concert Damrosch received an urgent phone call from Schelling saying that, although the
pianists were ready to rehearse,
Each one has his own individual interpretation,. . . nothing seems to make us play
together. We need a conductor. When I [Damrosch] arrived at the rehearsal hall
the confusion was indeed indescribable,. . . . Here were fourteen o f the world’s
greatest pianists, veritable prima donnas o f the piano, but several had never
learned to adapt themselves to play together for a common musical purpose, and
when I rapped on m y stand for silence in order to begin the “ Spanish Dances” of
Moszkowski, at least five or six continued their infernal improvising, playing of
scales and pianistic fireworks. . . . I gradually produced a semblance o f order, and
gave the signal for the beginning o f the music. The effect was extraordinary!
Several o f these pianists had never followed a conductor’s beat, and after the first
ten bars, two o f them rushed over to me, the one violently exclaiming that the
tempo was too fast, and the other insisting with equal vehemence that it was too
slow. Finally I . . . told my pianistic orchestra that they were, undoubtedly, the
fourteen greatest pianists in the world, and that the interpretation o f each one o f
them was undoubtedly equally the greatest in the world, but as they represented
fourteen different grades and shades of interpretation,. . . they would ju st have to
follow my beat whether they liked my tempo or not. This was greeted with a roar
o f approval, and we now settled down to the work o f rehearsing as solemnly as if
these prima donnas o f the ivories were orchestral musicians and routined
members o f the New York Musical Union.227
The program itself consisted o f a variety o f M oszkowski’s own works,228 as well as
compositions o f Schumann, Rossini, Beethoven, Grainger, and Arensky. The highlight
o f the concert, however, was an arrangement o f Schumann’s Carnaval. The pianists
drew lots to determine who would play each movement. This culminated in the last
movement, “M arche des ‘Davidsbundler’ contre les ‘P h i l i s t i n s with all the pianists
playing together. The receipts o f the concert were further increased by the auctioning off
Damrosch, 357.
228 This included arrangements o f two etudes from op. 64, Etincelles, La Jongleuse, and
the Spanish Dances.
53
o f “programmes and autographed photographs o f Moszkowski, and fifteen thousand
dollars was the result o f an entertainment truly unique in the history o f m usic.” 229
According to Haddow ’s information from the Schelling Archives, the money
“was paid out in an annuity o f 4,000 Fr. monthly, but by 1925 the money had run low.”230
This time Harold Bauer came to his aid and organized a second benefit concert at the
Metropolitan Opera House. In his memoir, Bauer explains that the money was converted
into an annuity payable through the Metropolitan Life Insurance company but that
• 92 31
Moszkowski “died before the first payment was made by the insurance company.”
W hile Bauer claimed that the insurance company paid for M oszkow ski’s funeral
arrangements, this was not the case. Haddow’s evidence from the Schelling Archive
further shows that although M arcel “evidently made an effort to come forward and take
charge o f some o f the funeral expenses, according to a communication from the National
City Bank o f Paris to Schelling,. . . it appears that Isidor Philipp and Mme. Amirian
wound up his estate, paid his debts and were responsible for funeral expenses.”233
Conclusion
For a consummate gentleman and independent spirit, M oszkow ski’s financial and
physical degradation must have been a constant source o f humiliation. In that respect his
77Q
Damrosch, 358. There is some discrepancy regarding the final amount o f income
garnered from the concert. Some o f M oszkowski’s obituaries as well as other sources
(such as Musical America) mention figures between $12,000 and $20,000. Haddow cites
$13,275.69 as the figure that came from the Schelling Archives (p. 27). The source o f the
latter figure likely provides the most accurate financial account.
230 Haddow, 28.
231 Bauer, 134.
232 Moszkowski dedicated his Grande Valse de Concert in G flat, op. 88 (Presser, 1912),
to Philipp.
233 Haddow, 28-29.
54
death provided a respite. Although “no composer o f meritorious pianoforte music o f the
last quarter of a century has met with greater favor than M oszkowski”234 and “it is by his
235
delightful dance music that Moszkowski will probably always be best known,” the fact
remains that, but for a few exceptions, his works have since fallen by the wayside. As
Thomas Johnson observed in 1946:
M oszkowski’s music is always pianistic, and lies well under the hand. The
harmonies are original and his whole output is imbued with that gaiety and
gracefulness o f perpetual youth.236
A problem arises, however, because Moszkowski “stands midway between the genuinely
popular and the genuinely classic, and literary musicians have consequently never been
inspired to write o f him in the musical periodicals.”237 The result is that he has been
designated “as a classicist among Salon Composers.”238
Initially, M oszkow ski’s works were at the forefront o f both popularity and
contemporary style. As time progressed, however, rather than breaking new musical
ground, Moszkowski continued to write in his accustomed style and thus began to pass
from the forefront o f serious musical criticism. The zenith o f the transcription era had
already been reached with the death o f Liszt in 1886, yet M oszkowski was only
beginning his transcription experiments well into the second decade o f the twentieth
century. Beautiful and entertaining as his music is, he was composing in an ivory tower,
and his music began to slide from the public’s view. By the second h alf o f the twentieth
234 “The Etude M aster Study Page: Composers o f Music o f W ide H um an A ppeal,” The
Etude 37, no. 7 (July 1918): 445.
235 Lowe, 130.
236 Thomas Arnold Johnson, “The Piano Music o f M oszkowski,” The M usic Teacher &
Piano Student, 25, no. 3 (M arch 1946): 111.
237 Grew, 58.
238 Liebling, 120.
55
century, he was all but forgotten. Vladimir Horowitz continued to perform his Etincelles
and Caprice Espagnole, while W illiam Bacchaus, Fannie Bloomfield-Zeisler, Ossip
Gabrilowitsch, and others made historic recordings o f his music. Old-school piano
teachers continued to assign his invaluable technical exercises, and the occasional
recording o f selected pieces was periodically released. The only complete recording o f
M oszkowski’s solo output was recorded by Seta Tanyel in 1994 and is now
unavailable.239
Unlike m any other composers, including Mozart and Schubert, who died in ill
health and poverty, M oszkow ski’s tragedy was compounded not only by the personal loss
of his wife and daughter, but also by the later estrangement with his son. There was the
financial fiasco, too, over his poor judgment in redeeming his copyright royalties in one
lump sum, coupled with his ill-timed investments and the additional insult o f being
denied any remuneration for completed editorial work allegedly because o f war
shortages. Perhaps most degrading for Moszkowski were the repeated public pleas for
financial assistance to sustain his meager existence until his final end.
Although M oritz M oszkowski had a well-respected career and earned the
admiration of both perform ers and listeners, he never achieved the cult status granted to
major composers like Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms. Throughout his life, however,
Moszkowski maintained his sharp sense o f humor, and, in his immortal words, most o f
the other “cretins” were “chretiens” anyway; so for a Jewish boy from Poland he did all
right, and his “masterpieces . . . have been given to Art for all tim e.”240
239 Collins Classics recording, May, 1994, Seta Tanyel, vol. 1 and vol. 2 piano works,
issue numbers: 14122; 14732.
240 “The M oszkowski Tribute,” 5.
56
Epilogue
M oszkowski’s musical affairs were not entirely discarded after his death. The
ministrations and care by his daughter-in-law during his final years did not go unnoticed
by Moszkowski, and he named her (and not his son Marcel) as his “legataire universelle”
or legal heir.241 In 1926, shortly after Moszkowski’s death, The United States Catalog o f
Copyright Entries (Musical Compositions) listed under Renewals “Mrs. M aurice
Moszkowski, Paris, as the widow o f the author,” indicating that “she was seeking the
copyright renewal for the piano concerto.”242 Most likely “Mrs. Maurice M oszkowski”
was really Algae M oszkowski (M arcel’s wife at the time) and not Henriette who had died
twenty-six years earlier. Later catalogues show that Marcel renewed the copyright on the
Ecole des Double-Notes, op. 64; Improvisation, op. 68; Etudes de Virtuosite, op. 72; the
ten Mignonne pieces, op. 77; and the four violin pieces, op. 82.243 One final renewal o f
the piano concerto took place in 1947. This time the name used was Aglae Virginie
Matossian M oszkowski de la Blanchetai.244 According to Cecile Tardif, Marcel
Moszkowski died in 1959, and Mme. de la Blanchetai passed away in February 1989,
approximately 95 years old. Marcel and Aglae had no children. Their deaths marked the
end o f a direct lineage from Moritz.

242 Luedtke, 199.
243 Luedtke, 199.
244 Luedtke, 199.
57
CHAPTER 2
THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY TRANSCRIPTION
Styles o f Transcription
Before the invention o f recorded music there were few ways o f hearing the latest
orchestral and operatic masterpieces. A live orchestral setting with a full complement o f
qualified musicians was obviously the most preferable venue but not always the most
practicable, as smaller towns could not support their own orchestra or opera house. Even
in larger cities with such musical institutions the opportunity to hear performances o f a
given work was limited. Thus, additional effort on the part o f the listener was required in
order to become more than just superficially acquainted with a work.
The transcription provided listeners with exposure to a wide variety o f musical
compositions by making them accessible in the home. By the mid-nineteenth century
transcriptions had taken on several forms. One was a simplified two- or four-handed
arrangement o f a work that was intended to convey the main musical ideas without being
too technically demanding.1 Several societal factors contributed to the popularity o f this
simplified type o f transcription. W ith the rise o f the middle class and the social status
attached to owning a piano, more people were becoming musically fluent. Arthur
Loesser elaborates on the social and cultural status surrounding pianos by pointing out
1 Charles Suttoni, “Piano and Opera: A Study o f the Piano Fantasies W ritten on Opera
Themes in the Romantic Era” (Ph.D. diss., New York University, 1973), 46. Suttoni
refers to this type o f work as a “recreational piece.” Although he was referring
specifically to the “ fantasy,” his description o f a work written for the amateur pianist is
equally appropriate.
58
that “for a family to own a piano, to make its daughters play the instrument whether or
not they wanted to or had any aptitude therefore, became an accepted badge o f the
house’s prosperity and refinement.” 2 He further explains that “for middle-class people to
own a piano was an aspiration: to practice literate, artful music within the family circle
was a gesture toward living a more abundant life, toward the fulfillment o f one’s finer
capabilities.”3 These amateur musicians constituted the bulk o f the concert-going
audience who also wanted to play this music at home or w ith friends. It is for this
population segment that the simplified style o f transcription evolved. It was often
through these two- or four-handed works that “many first heard or played for themselves
the symphonies and opera excerpts o f the day.”4 Not all amateur players required such
basic arrangements, however, as m any were quite accomplished pianists. This higher
level transcription is reflected in the complexity and difficulty o f m any quartet and
symphonic arrangements, as well as other works.
A second, more flamboyant type o f transcription was intended for concert
performances by virtuosos either in salons or concert halls. These demanding
transcriptions were enormously popular because they demonstrated the technical prowess
of the performer while providing the audience with musically familiar material. Franz
Liszt (1811-1886) was the most famous and prolific o f these virtuoso practitioners, but
was by no means the only one. Although professional pianists generally performed in
either a salon or a concert hall, there were those who succeeded in both venues. While
2 Arthur Loesser, Men, Women, and Pianos (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1954),
reprint (New York: Dover, 1990), 136.
3 Loesser, Men, Women, and Pianos, 136.
4 Peter J. Burkholder, “Borrowing,” in The New Grove Dictionary o f M usic and
Musicians II, 4: 27.
59
the salonists “concentrated on a very light repertoire, tickling their listeners with the
lowest forms o f musical trash,”5 others such as Hungarian-born Stephen Heller (1814-
1888), and English-born Henry Litolff (1818-1891), as well as the French pianist Marie
Pleyel (1811-1875), wife o f the piano manufacturer, were all held in high public regard.
According to Harold Schonberg, Heller “could have been one o f the best o f the salonists,
but he shrank from playing in public.”6 Litolff “was good enough to be compared with
Liszt by [Hans] von Billow,” while Pleyel, “one o f M oscheles’ best pupils .. .[was]
greatly admired by Liszt.” 7
As the reign o f the salon player waned in the second h alf o f the nineteenth
century, a growth o f virtuosic and serious pianists rapidly appeared. Sigismond Thalberg
(1812-1871), Hans von Biilow (1830-1894), Carl Tausig (1841-1871), Moritz
M oszkowski (1854-1925), Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924), Leopold Godowsky (1870-
1938), Harold Bauer (1873-1951), Ignaz Friedman (1882-1948), and Vladimir Horowitz
(1904-1989) were all well acquainted with the virtuosic transcriptional genre.8 For the
most part, these virtuosic transcriptions were performed by the composers themselves.
They provided the composers an opportunity to work out new types o f figuration, sounds,
and other novel means o f expression.
A third kind o f transcription sought to replicate pianistically the original
composer’s orchestral sound as closely as possible. Sometimes these orchestral
5 Harold C. Schonberg, The Great Pianists (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1963,
reprint, 1987), 203.
6 Schonberg, The Great Pianists, 203.
7 Schonberg, 204.
8 W hile the primary focus o f this discussion centers around m id- to late-nineteenth
century transcriptions, Suttoni, 56 has a fascinating table o f pianist/com posers bom
before 1830 that were writing fantasies or variations on operatic themes.
60
transcriptions arose out o f a desire to create an ‘hommage’ to a particular composer, as
found in Liszt’s transcriptions o f Beethoven’s symphonies. Other times the original
composer made his own piano arrangement o f an operatic or orchestral work that
suggested the orchestral nature o f his original work as in Bizet’s piano arrangement o f his
Carmen score. Although Bizet’s piano-vocal score o f Carmen was intended as a
rehearsal score, his skills as a pianist and composer made this work “eminently
pianistic.”9
This third type o f transcription represents the art o f orchestration for the
keyboard. A m aster composer will look at the original instrumentation and find ways
effectively to transfer the musical aspects o f timbre, texture, range, and articulation to the
keyboard. Simply re-writing the orchestral notes is not sufficient. The number of
instruments on a part, for example, also contributes to the depth and grandeur o f sound.
Liszt’s reworking o f Beethoven’s symphonies and Bizet’s arrangement o f his Carmen are
two examples showing how a composer can orchestrate for the piano.
Liszt referred to his transcriptions o f Beethoven’s nine symphonies as
“partitions.” He wrote, “ I will, at least, endeavor to overcome the worst difficulties and
furnish the pianoforte-playing world with as faithful as possible an illustration of
Beethoven’s genius.” 10 “Partition” (French) or “Partitur” (German) translates to “score.”
These types o f works aim to reproduce meticulously the important musical aspects, such
as dynamics, range, and articulations. The overriding concern is for the transcriber or
9 Maurice Hinson, The P ianist’s Guide to Transcriptions, Arrangements and Paraphrases

(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), 27. In this same section, Hinson points
out that “Liszt, Berlioz and Saint-Saens all admired Bizet’s remarkable piano playing.”
10 Arthur Tollefson, “The Liszt Pianoforte Scores o f the Beethoven Symphonies,” Piano
Quarterly 23, no. 89 (1975): 48.
61
arranger to convey the original orchestral intent as clearly and meaningfully as possible
on the piano. The partition most closely corresponds to a straightforward arrangement.
In a letter to his friend, Adolphe Pictet, Liszt explains his meaning o f the term “partition
de piano”:
I called my work a partition de piano in order to make clear my

intention o f following the orchestra step by step and o f giving it no
special treatment beyond the mass and variety o f its sound.11
Liszt’s first attempt at this type o f orchestral transcription was Berlioz’s Symphonie
fantastique. In another letter written that same year, Liszt describes the seriousness and
dedication o f his attitude when transcribing Berlioz’s programmatic work:
I have worked on this [the Symphonie fantastique] as conscientiously as

if it were a m atter o f transcribing the Holy Scriptures, seeking to
transfer to the piano not just the general structure o f the music, but all
its separate parts as well as its many harmonic and rhythmic
combinations.12
Few o f these transcriptional goals would have been as successful had not
significant developments in the piano’s design taken place in the early 1820s. The sound
quality and volume both mellowed and became richer and more powerful as a result o f
changes to the instrum ent’s case structure and hammers. An expansion o f the range
allowed the piano to compete more effectively with an orchestra, and improvements to
the action enabled the rapid repetition o f a single note. Such changes are detailed later in
this chapter. Their significance lies in direct correlation to the types o f figurations and
expressive devices available to composers and performers.
11 Hui Mei Lin, “Liszt’s Solo Transcriptions o f Schubert’s W interreise” (DM A diss.,
City University o f New York, 2002), 2. From a letter Liszt sent to his friend Adolphe
Pictet, dated September, 1837. See Franz Liszt, An Artist's Journey: Lettres d ’un
bachelier es musique, trans. and annotated by Charles Suttoni (Chicago and London: The
University o f Chicago Press, 1989), 46.
12 Lin, “Liszt’s Solo Transcriptions,” 5-6.
62
While this orchestral type o f transcription is more clearly set up to display these
techniques, the more virtuosic transcription (type 2) m ay also include these same
features. The main distinction between the second and third transcription types is the
degree to which they differ from the original work. Inherent in the virtuosic transcription
are impressive technical gymnastics not present in the original work, whereas the
orchestral transcription needs to be closely wedded to the original score.
The simplified type o f transcription (type 1), on the other hand, can remain
melodically faithful to the original work, although it does not have to do so. This type o f
transcription is not seeking to re-create the full orchestral effect on the piano. Rather, it is
affording the perfonner (and listener) a chance to hear the original piece in a technically
accessible version.
The orchestral type o f transcription (type 3) differs from the simplified and
virtuosic transcription types in that the transcriber goes to great lengths to create an
orchestral work on the piano. The chances o f any melodic tampering or original musical
insertions on the part o f the transcriber are slim. Liszt, for example, would not have
dreamed o f “improving upon” Beethoven’s symphonic masterpieces or Berlioz’s
Symphonie fantastique, but in order to suggest orchestral effects certain changes to the
keyboard part were necessary.13
The greatest compositional flexibility occurs in the virtuosic transcription. In
such flamboyant works a composer has the freedom to reinterpret the original score by
adding original (although, generally, not melodic) material. At the same time the
transcriber has the flexibility o f working in a more simplified orchestral texture, a more
13 See examples 5-9, 5-1 Ob, 5-10d, and 5-11. These highlight some o f the challenges both
Liszt and M oszkowski overcame.
63
complex orchestral texture, or something in between. In this way the technical difficulty
can be moderated.
Defining Transcription and Related Terms
Transcription is a complicated term with many associations attached to it. There
are many ways o f taking a work and reformatting it for a different medium. Some
involve little or no change from the original work, while others almost re-cast the
original. The degree to which a work has been altered is thus its defining aspect. It is
important to realize, however, that there are no absolutes when defining the various
transforming styles that existed in the nineteenth century. The distinction between a
paraphrase, illustration, reminiscence, fantasy, and transcription is nebulous, at best.14
This is further complicated by the descriptive titles given by the composer or publisher.
While a composer might have conceived o f a work as a reminiscence, a publisher may
have referred to the same work as a “fantasie.” One example o f these titular
discrepancies is cited by Suttoni:
In 1841 Schlesinger issued a work o f Liszt that bore the title

Reminiscences de Robert le Diable. Valse infernale. Liszt who
participated in the Hamburg Festival that July reported he played “une
Fantasie pour piano sur des motifs de Robert le Diable." An
advertisement in the Gazette announcing that the work was “En vente”
gave the title as Fantasie brillante sur des motifs de Robert le Diable de
Meyerbeer. A later advertisement called it a Grande F antasie}5
14 Besides the title o f “arrangement,” there were other nineteenth-century transcriptions

such as potpourri and caprice that existed in large numbers but are now generally
forgotten. In The New Grove Dictionary, Andrew Lamb defines potpourri as a “series o f
melodies taken from one or more operas or other sources and strung together by linking
passages.” Andrew Lamb, “Potpourri,” in The New Grove D ictionary o f M usic and
Musicians II, 20: 220.
15 Suttoni, “Piano and Opera,” 34-35.
64
These discrepancies and shadings are not clarified by music encyclopedias. Ter
Ellingson’s “Transcription” article in The New Grove Dictionary does not give a musical
definition o f transcription, but rather sends the reader to the article on “Arrangement” for
a better understanding. The “Transcription” article states that “transcription is a
subcategory o f notation.. . . It may also mean an arrangement, especially one involving a
change o f medium (e.g., from orchestra to piano).” 16
The “Arrangement” article states:
The word ‘arrangement’ might be applied to any piece o f music based

on or incorporating pre-existing m aterial.. . . In the sense in which it
is commonly used among musicians, however, the word may be taken
to mean either the transference o f a composition from one medium to
another or the elaboration (or simplification) o f a piece, with or
without a change o f medium. In either case some degree o f
recomposition is usually involved, and the result may vary from a
straightforward, almost literal, transcription to a paraphrase which is
more the work o f the arranger than o f the original composer.17
The New Oxford Dictionary o f Music concurs with this definition by stating that
arrangement is “the adaptation to one musical medium o f music originally composed for
18
another.” The New H arvard Dictionary o f Music defines arrangement as “the
adaptation o f a composition for a medium different from that for which it was originally
composed, usually with the intention of preserving the essentials o f the musical
16 Ter Ellingson, “Transcription,” in The New Grove Dictionary o f Music and Musicians
II, 25: 692.
17 Malcolm Boyd, “Arrangement,” in The New Grove Dictionary o f Music and Musicians
II, 2: 65.
18 New Oxford Dictionary o f Music (1983), 1: 107.
65
substance.” 19 There are subtle but important differences between these three
understandings, perhaps due, in part, to the scope o f each reference work.
New Grove's approach allows the greatest flexibility regarding the degree o f re
composition that can be allowed. This understanding includes a range o f re-composition
from the most limited (to use their term, “straightforward”) to one in which the original
work has been highly altered (“paraphrase”). By allowing the definition o f
“arrangement” to encompass such a wide range o f re-composition, New Grove includes
the more freely composed genres, such as paraphrase, illustration, reminiscence, and
fantasy. This breadth o f definition reflects the semantic confusion between arrangement,
paraphrase, and transcription.
New Oxford's definition does not comment directly on the amount o f re
composition that can take place before a work is no longer considered an arrangement.
Instead, by using the word “adaptation” New Oxford implies that only a transference o f
notes should take place. The degree to which “adaptation” takes place is not specified.
As a result, it is not clear whether or not the more freely adapted transcription genres
(paraphrase, illustration, reminiscence, and fantasy) should be included in this
understanding o f arrangement.
The definition from The New Harvard Dictionary o f M usic takes only a slightly
more confining approach. The first part o f the definition is virtually identical to New
Oxford's. New Harvard then goes on to add that while the work undergoes a certain
change as it is transferred from one medium to another, there is an effort m ade by the
19 The New Harvard Dictionary o f Music, ed. Don Michael Randel (Cambridge, Mass.:
The Belknap Press o f Harvard University Press, 1986), 53.
66
arranger to preserve essential elements. Although this definition does not spell out the
degree o f change that takes place, it does suggest that the freer transcription genres might
find better understanding under a different term.
New Harvard does, however, make a slight, but important distinction between
arrangement and transcription. Under the definition o f “transcription” New Harvard
states that it is “the adaptation o f a composition for a medium other than its original one,
e.g., o f vocal music for instruments or o f a piano work for orchestra.”20 The implication
is that there is no limit specified on the amount o f re-composition that can take place
during the adaptation from one medium to another. As a result, this leaves room for the
various more highly adapted transcription genres to be included. In the end, despite the
hair-splitting definitions, the distinction between arrangement and transcription remains
blurred.
The definition o f a “paraphrase” is more straightforward. New H arvard's
definition states that the paraphrase “in the 19th century, [was] a solo work o f great
virtuosity in which popular melodies, usually from operas, were elaborated (as in Liszt’s
Rigoletto: Paraphrase de Concert, 1860);. .. they were distinguished from works
attempting to be faithful transcriptions.”21 Under the general heading o f “Borrowing,” the
New Grove explains that “some transcriptions were faithful to the original and thus might
be considered a new version rather than a new work; others involved some reworking or
20
New Harvard Dictionary, 866.
21 New Harvard Dictionary, 508.
67
elaboration. Freer still was the new form o f the operatic paraphrase for piano, as
practiced by Liszt and other virtuosos.”
For my purposes in this dissertation, transcription will have both a general and
more specific meaning. From a general perspective it will refer to the process o f musical
adaptation from one medium to another. In this way the term will act as an umbrella for
all musical genres that involve adaptation from the original compositional medium to
another. Genres involving larger degrees o f original musical re-composition on the part
of the transcriber, such as paraphrase, illustration, reminiscence, and fantasy, will
therefore be embraced within the parameters o f this term. An arrangement will also be
considered a type o f transcription, but one that contains relatively little original re
composition and is essentially a musical transference from one medium to another with
only the necessary changes that must be made when moving between different musical
types (e.g., from operatic or orchestral scores to piano or small ensemble types). A more
specific distinction between arrangement and transcription m ust also be clarified. In The
P ianist’s Guide to Transcriptions, Arrangements, and Paraphrase, Maurice Hinson also
points out the conflicting opinions regarding these two terms:
C. Hubert Parry believes an arrangement is more literal than a

transcription, but Leonard B. M eyer believes a transcription is more
literal than an arrangement. According to Meyer, a transcription uses
means “different from those o f the original work. . . to represent it as
accurately as possible,” whereas an arrangement “generally involves
significant additions to, or deletions from, or changes o f order in the
original.23
22 Burkholder, “Borrowing,” New Grove II, 4:27.

23Maurice Hinson, The P ia n ist’s Guide, x. From C. Hubert Parry, “Arrangement,”
G rove’s Dictionary o f M usic and Musicians, 5th ed., 1, 223.
68
C. Hubert Parry’s definition o f an arrangement works best for the present writer o f the
present essay because it closely mirrors the musical influences instilled in the author by
her many teachers. Parry’s characterization should be extended to include “deletions
from or changes o f order from the original,”24 as well. A work should be considered an
arrangement as long as there are no major additions o f new music composed by the
transcriber. Thus the transcription category o f a work should not be changed if the
musical themes o f a work are merely re-ordered but not musically altered.
The confusing differences between transcriptions and paraphrases are twofold.
One difference involves the amount o f re-composition that takes place between the
original work and the adaptation. The other difference involves the original source that is
being adapted. A general understanding is that paraphrases are usually based on operatic
material. Their highly virtuosic nature presupposes many new musical insertions on the
part o f the transcribing composer. This understanding is borne out in New H arvard's
definition as well as other sources. New Grove II, for example, defines the nineteenth-
century paraphrase as:
“The Paraphrase de Concert,” sometimes called “Reminiscences” or “Fantasie,”

[that] was a virtuoso work based on well-known tunes, usually taken from popular
operas. Liszt in particular wrote such paraphrases for piano, including Grande
paraphrase de la marche de Donizetti (1847) and Totentanz: Paraphrase iiber
das Dies irae (1849) .25
This does not mean, however, that a transcription cannot also be based on an
operatic source. Godowsky’s piano version o f Tannhauser is described by the transcriber
24 Hinson, x. From Leonard B. Meyer, Music, the Arts, and Ideas (Chicago, 1967), 195.
25Richard Sherr, “Paraphrase,” in The N ew Grove Dictionary o f M usic o f Musicians II,
19: 69-70.
69
him self as a “transcription,” and M oszkowski’s Chanson Boheme de VOpera Carmen de
Georges Bizet is listed on the title page as a “transcription de concert."
Bearing all o f these overlapping issues in mind, a paraphrase is an adaptation
usually based on operatic material and involves the insertion o f newly composed
virtuosic material. A transcription is also an adaptation but one that is not necessarily
based on operatic material. Transcriptions afford a greater flexibility regarding levels o f
virtuosity allowing for both simplified and virtuosic types, and can have varying degrees
o f new musical material inserted by the transcribing composer. The following diagram
summarizes the present hierarchical understanding o f these terms.
Table 2-1. Terminological Summary
transcription
I----------------------- 1
paraphrase arrangement
illustration reminiscence fantasy
O f course, none o f these understandings is absolute, and, as previously discussed, it is
well documented that these terms were used interchangeably in the nineteenth century.
70
Popularity o f the Transcription Genre
Three factors contributing to the surge in popularity o f the transcription genre in
the nineteenth century were the changes to the piano itself, its resulting rise in popularity
as both a concert and domestic instrument, and the concomitant increase in published
sheet music.
The nineteenth-century technical improvements for the piano opened up a wide
range o f musical possibilities. Pianist Emil Gilels notes that “ at the end o f the nineteenth-
century . . . the piano becomes an orchestral, organ-like instrument.”26 The increase in
the popularity o f the piano transcription has a direct correlation with the technical
improvements o f the piano itself. W ithout these technical improvements the virtuosic
feats o f the nineteenth-century transcription would not have been possible.
Several major developments occurred to give the piano a more “orchestral”
sound. The range was increased from six to seven octaves. This developm ent was o f
particular interest to Liszt, who wrote in the preface to his Beethoven symphony
transcriptions:
In the compass o f its seven octaves it can, with but a few exceptions,
reproduce all traits, all combinations, all figurations o f the most
learned, o f the deepest tone-creations, and leaves to the orchestra no
other advantages, than those o f variety o f tone-colours and massive
effects— immense advantages to be sure.27
26 Record jacket o f Bach-Busoni Prelude and Fugue in D, BW V 532, M elodiya-Angel

SRBO-4110.
27 Michael Kozlovsky, “The Piano Solo Transcription in the Romantic Period: Three
Examples from Liszt, Godowsky, and Busoni” (Ph.D. diss. Indiana University, 1983)
30.
71
In addition, the development o f a stronger plate allowed for greater sonority and
increased responsiveness o f touch. Two other important developments were the
incorporation o f felt hammers and the new double-escapement action. These last two
contributions were developed by the French piano-building firm o f Sebastien Erard. The
felt hammers allowed for a warmer and more mellow tone quality, while the double
escapement allowed for a rapid repetition o f notes.
The invention o f the double-escapement action was driven by the musical
demands o f the virtuoso pianists. Erard completed his design for this action in 1821 and
had it patented in England later that same year by his nephew, Pierre. This mechanism
has set the standard for all modem piano actions to this day.28 As will be seen later,
improvements to the piano’s pedals also had a significant impact on the quality o f
transcriptions.
As the piano developed greater expressive potential, the popularity o f the
transcription as both a concert and domestic work grew as well. “Innumerable
transcriptions brought the orchestral and chamber repertory into the hom es o f domestic
pianists (or piano-duettists) but more interesting are those w ith which the traveling
virtuoso dazzled and delighted his audiences.” 29 New Oxford also points out that:
The great pianists o f the 19th century often made arrangements o f works from
less accessible forces; . . . Liszt transcribed Beethoven’s symphonies for piano,
although his attempt to include all the essential melodic material meant that few
other pianists could have played them. But some o f his transcriptions were made
simply because he wanted to perform something which had been written for
another medium. .. . Equally valuable, in a different way, were the piano-duet
arrangements made in the later 19th century These allowed the domestic
28 E.M. Harding, The P ianoforte: Its History Traced To The Great Exhibition o f 1851,
rev. ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 158.
29 Boyd, “Arrangement,” in New Grove II, 2:69.
72
pianist to come to know intimately works he could hear only very rarely, if at all.
The same was true o f opera. As Shaw once remarked, W agner’s music dramas
were heard by the public at large not at Bayreuth, but on their drawing-room
pianos, from arrangements for piano solo (not the vocal scores).30
More so than orchestral and chamber repertory, however, it was really the
operatic craze that had the most profound effect on piano transcriptions. People wanted
to hear these works not just in the concert hall from virtuosos, but they wanted to be able
to play them for themselves. An example that highlights this trend is given by Loesser,
who writes that in 1832 Chopin gave a concert with a cellist for whom he had written a
fantasy for cello and piano based on melodies from the Meyerbeer hit opera Robert le
Diable. Liszt, too, had written his own “steaming pianistic fricassee o f the same
31
opera.” Clearly the public was not satisfied merely to bask in the glow o f these virtuosic
transcriptions because in 1834 the French publisher Maurice Schlesinger “announced the
publication o f a Fantasie sur des motifs favoris de ROBERT-LE-DIABLE, for piano by
Carl Czerny o f Vienna, for non-Liszts and non-Chopins to fumble with.”32 People clearly
wanted to play these works at home. This resulted in both publishers and composers
capitalizing on this popularity for both financial and status purposes. Loesser writes o f a
German pianist-composer Franz Hunten (1793-1878), who settled in Paris and “gauged
the average taste and capacity [for operatic transcriptions] so accurately that publishers
eventually paid him two hundred francs for a printed page.”33
This operatic craze stimulated the growth o f transcriptions with the vocal and
orchestral parts transcribed into a piano-solo score that could be easily negotiated by the
30 New Oxford Dictionary, 108.

31 Loesser, 359.
32 Loesser, 359.
33 Loesser, 362.
73
amateur musician. These operatic transcriptions differed from the operatic potpourris
because their aim was to reproduce either the entire operatic score or a significant,
consecutive musical portion in a single piano-solo score. Sometimes these transcriptions
would include the vocal text above the right-hand part, as well as limited instrumental
cues, as in Johannes Doebber’s transcription o f W agner’s Tannhauser , 3 4 Other times,
only the title o f the aria would be indicated, such as in Renaud de V ilbac’s arrangement
o f Carmen , 3 5 These transcriptions often simplified the musical textures allowing for
varying levels o f technical competency.
Transcriptions by Liszt, Busoni, Godowsky, and von Biilow: A B rie f Overview
Liszt was clearly a leader in terms o f virtuosic transcriptions. He composed
nearly 400 transcriptions, arrangements, fantasies, paraphrases, variations, reminiscences,
illustrations, e tc .36 As a general rule, Liszt reserved the terms “paraphrase,”
“reminiscence,” “illustration,” and “fantasie” for works that were based on operatic
melodies but were otherwise freely composed. Although the technical virtuosity these
works required kept them out o f the hands o f amateur musicians, this did not lessen their
appeal.
While Liszt was clearly the most prolific composer o f transcriptions, he was by no
means the only one. Sigismond Thalberg (1812-1871), “one o f the great piano titans o f
34 Richard Wagner, Tannhauser und der Sangergkrieg a u f Wartburg, transc. Johannes

Doebber (Berlin: Fiirstner, 1911).
35 Georges Bizet, Carmen, arr. Renaud de Vilbac (New York: Schirmer, 1878).
36 Hinson, 77.
74
the nineteenth century,”37 spent his compositional energies creating “fantasies, variations,
“souvenirs,” and caprices”38 for the piano. Like Liszt’s, the m ajority o f Thalberg’s
transcriptions were based on operatic themes. One o f Thalberg’s m ost famous pianistic
traits was to create a melodic line that was surrounded by sweeping arpeggios, by using
his two thumbs and the sustaining pedal s. This technique earned him the nickname “old
arpeggio.”39
Another well-known composer, Ignaz Friedman (1882-1948), not only composed
transcriptions but wrote “about one hundred piano pieces o f startling keyboard
originality.”40 His own virtuosic technique is reflected in his compositions as well as
documented in the recordings he made. Unlike Liszt and Thalberg, Friedm an’s
transcriptions were not vocally oriented, but, rather, he concentrated on transcribing
instrumental music by J. S. Bach, Couperin, Franck, Mendelssohn, Schubert, and Johann
Strauss, among others.
Other mid-to late nineteenth century transcription composers who did not
exclusively compose operatic transcriptions but explored orchestral and song genres
include Henri Herz (1803-1888), Stephen Heller (1813-1888), and Lucien Gaban (1877-
1959). Some o f G aban’s transcriptions include orchestral works such as D ebussy’s La
Mer and Ravel’s La Valse, w hile both Heller and Herz transcribed various songs.41
37 Hinson, 142.
38 Hinson, 142.
39 Hinson, 142.
40 Hinson, 54.
41 Included among H eller’s song transcriptions are Eloge des Larmes , Erlkdnig, and Die
Forelle by Schubert. H erz’s transcriptions include operatic selections from Bellini and
Rossini as well as a Variations brilliants sur “The Last Rose o f Summer. ”
75
Ferruccio Busoni composed more than one hundred o f his own transcriptions
based on works by twenty-three different composers. Busoni is best known for his
transcriptions o f B ach’s music, such as the Chaconne for violin, BW V 1004. In this
piece Busoni retains the thematic and rhythmic content but expands the violin line to take
advantage o f the rich sonority o f the piano. This is further augmented by his insightful
pedal markings. Busoni “developed the technique o f the three pedal system”42 by
utilizing the piano’s middle sustaining or “sostenuto” pedal to m agnify and extend the
length o f the legato lines, especially in the cantabile variations o f the piece.
Liszt could only imagine and wish for the possibility o f having this type o f
sustaining pedal. In mm. 6-8 of the trio section from his transcription o f Beethoven’s
first symphony, Liszt notates a dotted-half-note chord that is tied from mm. 5-8. Above
these tied chords is a three-measure sequential eighth-note passage in octaves. Had the
technique o f sustaining certain notes while damping others been available, Liszt would
surely have employed it. Unfortunately, a suitable sustaining pedal was not available for
another thirty-seven years until the eminent piano firm o f Steinway perfected this
mechanism in 1874 43
Another pianist/com poser o f supreme technical prowess was Leopold Godowsky.
A fellow countryman o f Moszkowski, Godowsky “is considered by m any authorities to
have possessed one o f the best pianistic mechanisms o f all tim e.”44 In an interview given
to The Musician in 1898 Godowsky explains how the improvements o f the piano affected
his compositional process:
42 Hinson, 34.
43 David S. Grover, The Piano: Its Story from Zither to Grand (London: Robert Hale,
1976), 143.
44 Hinson, 59.
76
The piano is not merely a piano but also a small orchestra. Because o f
this the tremendous advance o f modem instrumentation in reference to
polyphony, harmony, and mixing of tone colors must be cultivated to a
greater extent than heretofore. It is upon this principle that I have
made my arrangements o f the works o f Chopin and others.45
The improvement in the pianoforte pedals significantly raised the expressive
nature of the piano. The perform er’s ability to control various levels o f pedal resonance
opened up a new realm o f musical coloration and sustain. The skilled pianist was now
able to control to a greater extent than previously possible some o f the naturally occurring
overtone resonances by subtly adjusting the pedals. Godowsky elaborates on the
importance o f the pedal saying:
In all cases one must determine the use o f the pedal according to the
degree o f clarity, the articulation o f the dynamic means o f expression,
and the acoustic relations o f the room and the instrument. . ..
Excessive pedaling causes obscurity and confusion, particularly in the
case o f scales, arpeggios, passages, and embellishments. Yet, the one
who fears to use the pedal, and therefore applies it sparingly, will play
in a small colorless, expressionless style . . . the pedal can also be used
dynamically. . . . The use o f the pedal also depends upon the various
positions o f the notes. One may say each different octave requires a
different pedaling.46
Godowsky’s transcriptions were by no means exclusively limited to operatic
themes. He arranged the gypsy-like Triana movement from Isaac A lbeniz’s (1860-1909)
Iberia 47 He also transcribed Albeniz’s Tango op. 165, no. 2. His transcriptional style
45Moritz Moszkowski, The Musician 3, no. 5 (May 1898): 595.

46 Moszkowski, The Musician, 595.
47 Albeniz did write both the Tango, op. 165, no. 2, and Triana for piano solo; however,
according to Hinson, Godowsky’s transcriptions immeasurably improved Albeniz’s
lackluster works. Regarding the Tango, Hinson writes that “this transcription still
appears in recitals and is generally preferred to the rather dull original.” He further says
77
has a unique contrapuntal aspect. Godowsky found ways o f combining different
melodies at the same time in a stretto-like effect, although not in the Baroque sense of
“stretto.” He describes his own compositional process by saying: “As in all
transcriptions o f a creative character, I had to avail m yself o f harmonic, contrapuntal and
constructive devices o f my own, whenever I found them indispensable to the furtherance
o f the idiom of the pianoforte.”48 Godowsky chose melodies whose intrinsic structure
blended well with others. His Tannhauser transcription has several prime examples o f
this technique that will be elaborated on in chapters three and four. W agner’s themes,
however, did not provide the only stimulus for Godowsky. His Symphonische
Metamorphosen on Fledermaus by Johann Strauss Jr. (1825-1899) is described by
Hinson as using “every trick o f the trade in a phantasmagoric setting as only Godowsky
could do! The original melodies and moods are expanded by polyphonic amplification,
harmonic complexities, and virtuoso stunts.”49
By the middle o f the nineteenth century the craze o f virtuosic opera transcriptions
had begun to subside. Liszt returned to W eimar toward the end o f 1847, having tired o f
his demanding concert tours. While his trend o f playing a solo recital had caught on
swiftly, the programming of these events began to shy away from exclusively virtuosic
transcriptions. Arthur Loesser writes:
The fact is, the virtuoso acrobat . . . was gradually becoming replaced by a
performer who considered him self an interpreter. . . . During the fifties [1850s],
the sixties and later - instead o f the Thalbergs and the Dreyshocks playing their
own fantasies and dolled-up medleys designed to show off their special brands o f
that “Godowsky transformed this gypsy panache [Triana] into a new piece — full o f
slithering chromaticism.” Hinson, 1.
48
Leopold Godowsky, Operatic Masterpiece: Tannhauser (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1936), preface.
49 Hinson, 135.
78
skill - we get Clara Schumann and Hans von Biilow, who begin to devote their
attention to presenting the works o f Beethoven, Chopin, Schubert, Schumann, and
M endelssohn. The idea was indeed new.50
This is not to im ply that musicians such as von Biilow, Friedman, and Godowsky, among
many others, did not compose or perform transcriptions, but rather that the focus on
operatic transcriptions was less exclusive.51 Liszt and von Biilow each transcribed the
other’s work. Von Biilow arranged Liszt’s Fantasia on Hungarian Folk Melodies for
two pianos, while Liszt transcribed von Billow’s D a n te’s Sonett "Tanto gentile e tanto
onesta. ” Von Billow ’s technical reputation placed him in the same league as Thalberg
and Liszt; his demeanor, however, was less engaging than that o f his colleagues. Like
Liszt, von Biilow was a famed interpreter o f Beethoven, but his playing has been
described as being “cold and over-scholarly in his interpretation.”52
M oszkow ski’s Piano Transcriptions
B y the late nineteenth century the halcyon days o f the operatic transcription were
over. It is not surprising, therefore, that although M oszkowski and his music were highly
respected during his lifetime, the durability o f his transcriptions was less than might have
been expected. Although operatic transcriptions were still being programmed,
M oszkowski was writing them at the end o f their heyday.
50 Loesser, 422.
51 This trend o f harkening back to the “music o f the great m asters” continues well into the
early part o f the twentieth century. The b rie f editorial remarks that accompany the
simplified piano transcriptions Moszkowski published in The Etude are clear examples o f
this musical direction.
52 •
Reginald R. Gerig, Famous Pianists and Their Technique (Bridgeport, Conn.: Robert
B. Luce Inc., 1974), 193.
79
Moszkowski wrote transcriptions in all three styles: simplified, orchestral and
virtuosic. The works that fall into the simplified transcription category (type 1) were
mainly published in The Etude and were intended as instructional pieces aimed at specific
piano grade levels.53 As a result o f M oszkowski’s technical simplifications, these works
became musically accessible to the amateurs and students. Table 2-2 lists the simplified
arrangements which Moszkowski published in The Etude. Numbers 1-7 and 11 range in
difficulty from grades 3 to 5.54 These transcriptions appeared with educational comments
that extol the merits o f the work, and because they reflect an attitude found in the early
twentieth century regarding music o f an prior time, these editorial gems have been
included in table 2-2. By suggesting the importance o f the music by “great masters,” the
editors at The Etude helped to musically influence and educate the next generation.
Numbers 8-10 also appeared in The Etude but were intended for a more sophisticated
player. The editorial comments in The Etude also reflect contemporary esteem for
Moszkowski’s transcription skill.
53 Neither John Cody Haddow, “Moritz M oszkowski and his Piano M usic,” (Ph.D., diss.
Washington Universiyt, 1981)nor Martin Eastick, “Moritz M oszkowski,” The New Grove
Dictionary o f M usic and M usicians II, ed. Stanley Sadie (London, 2000), 17: 188 include
these pieces in their descriptions o f M oszkowski’s musical output. Although Haddow
acknowledges their existence, there is no mention o f specific works or dates o f
publication.
54 Although there is no standard given as to how these grade levels are set, one can
discern the relative level o f difficulty based on the technical demands o f the work. As a
result, these transcriptions range in the intermediate level, from an easier intermediate
level to a more advanced intermediate level.
80
Table 2-2: Piano Arrangements
1. L. van Beethoven: “Menuet in G (no. 2)” 55
“One o f the smaller Beethoven gems, transcribed for [piano] by M. M oszkowski.”56
2. W. A. Mozart: Minuetto from “Don Juan” 57
“A dainty and pianistic transcription o f a famous classic.”
3. G. F. Handel: “Lascia ch’io pianga”58
“A master transcription o f one o f the immortal melodies from the classics,

enhancing the beauty of the original.”
4. G. F. Handel: Chorus from “Judas Maccabeaus”59
“This splendid old chorus See the Conquering Hero Comes from H andel’s well
known oratorio. M. Moszkowski has made a sonorous and effective piano piece
o f this number.”
5. W. A. Mozart: “Romanza, Concerto for Piano in D minor”60
“A charming theme from the slow movement o f one o f M ozart’s first Concertos.
We should hear more o f the older classics.”
6. Beethoven: “Fragment from Violin Sonata in C m inor”61
“This transcription from a famous violin and piano sonata is so beautifully made
that it seems almost like an original piano piece.”
55 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 35, no. 12 (December 1918): 781. Grade 3.
56 The microfilmed copy o f this page was damaged and the exact text was indecipherable.
No hard copy was available at the NYPL Research Division.
57 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 37, no. 1 (January 1919): 38. Grade 4.
58 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 37, no. 4 (April 1919): 231. Grade 3.
59 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 38, no. 6 (June 1919): 369-371. Grade 4.
60 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 37, no. 7 (July 1919): 438. Grade 3 1/2.
61 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 37, no. 8 (August 1919): 507. Grade 5.
81
7. F. Mendelssohn: “Nocturne, Midsummer Night’s Dream”62
“M endelssohn’s music to M idsummemight’s Dream [sic.], written in his

eighteenth year, still remains the exemplar for all fairy music. The lovely
nocturne, as arranged by Moszkowski makes a beautiful piano number, retaining
all the charm o f the original.”
8. Chopin: “Valse, op. 64, no. I”63
9. Toccata nach Czerny’s op. 9264
10. L. van Beethoven: “Fragment from Emperor Concerto”65
“The splendid 5th Concerto o f Beethoven is too difficult for any but finished
artists, but this exquisite fragment from the slow movement as transcribed by
Moszkowski makes a charming solo number.”
11.10 Ungarische Tanze nach Brahms WoO, nos. 1-866
“This work was originally scored for 4-hands, 2-pianos by Brahms. Moszkowski has
arranged this popular work for piano solo.”
M oszkowski's Arrangements o f His Own Compositions
Moszkowski frequently arranged his orchestral, operatic, and ballet music for
either two- or four-hands at the piano (see Table 2-3). These arrangements were either
intended for the amateur player and were moderately simplified, or they were prepared to
function as piano rehearsal scores for more elaborate orchestral works such as his ballet
Laurin and his opera Boabd.il.
62 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 37, no 5 (May 1919): 328-29. Grade 5.

63 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 37, no. 12 (December 1919), No grade level, no page
number.
641 have been unable to locate this score.
65 Moritz Moszkowski, The Etude 39, no. 11 (November 1921): 738. Grade 5.
66 Augener Ltd., 1911.
82
Table 2-3: M oszkow ski’s Arrangements o f His Orchestral Music
1. op. 47, nos. 1 and 5, Prelude & Intermezzo67
2. Boabdil, op. 49, M aurischer M arsh and Einzugs-M arsch68
3. op. 51, Fackeltanz69
4. op. 53, Laurin, four pieces: Tanz der Rosenelfen, M arsche der Zwerge, Sarabande und
Double, and Valse Coquette70
Virtuosic Transcriptions
M oszkow ski’s transcriptions o f operatic works are all fairly virtuosic, with the
exception o f the Barcarole (see Table 2-4). In general these works do not fall under the
category o f free paraphrase. M oszkowski has his own style o f transcription that involves
maintaining a fairly low profile o f originality. This is not to suggest that Moszkowski
does not insert his own original and at times flamboyant material, as will be shown in
chapters 4, 5, and 6, but he prefers to blur the line between what is his and what is not. It
is only through a rigorous examination o f M oszkowski’s transcriptions and a comparison
with the original work that his transcription techniques can be uncovered. The
compositional modesty displayed in these pieces seems to reflect his own real-life
personality.
67 Hainauer, 1890, 1st and 5th m ovements from his Second Suite for orchestra for piano
solo.
68 Peters, 1892, for piano solo and four-hands.
69 Peters, 1893, for piano solo.
70 Bote and Bock, 1895, for piano solo.
83
Table 2-4: M oszkow ski’s Virtuosic Transcriptions
1. Chanson Boheme de I ’Opera de Georges Bizet71
2. Barcarole aus Hoffmans Erzahlungen72
3. Isoldens Tod. Schluss-Szene aus Tristan und Isolde von Richard Wagner73
4. Venusberg Bacchanale: Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper Tannhauser von Richard
Wagner74
Conclusion
As I have demonstrated, “transcription” as a term had many uses and synonyms in
the nineteenth century. Terminological subtleties and ambiguities aside, piano
transcriptions were basically o f three general types: simplified, orchestral, and virtuosic.
M oszkowski provided examples o f all three types, the last o f which will be explored in
the remaining chapters.
One o f the factors that contributed most to the demise o f the transcription genre
was the invention o f recorded music. Although performers such as Harold Bauer (1873-
1951), Alfred Cortot (1877-1962), Percy Grainger (1882-1961), Arthur Rubinstein (1886-
1982), and Vladimir Horowitz (1903-1989), among others, continued to program
transcriptions, the popularity o f this genre was in decline. It was no longer necessary to
71 Hainauer, 1906. Dedicated to Moriz Rosenthal.

72 Peters, 1910. Dedicated to Mademoiselle Elizabeth Strauss.
73 Peters, 1914. Dedicated to Ferruccio Busoni.
74 Peters, 1914. Dedicated to Mark Hambourg.
84
personally delve into a work in order to become familiar with its intricacies. The
phonograph allowed people to quickly “learn” a work, as well as unfortunately to engage
in passive music-listening while involved in other activities. At the same time the
compositional “cutting-edge” was shifting away from tonal music - the basis o f all great
melodies - and therefore the foundation o f transcriptions. The great nineteenth-century
transcriptions all had elements o f improvisation, even if the works were not technically
“improvised” but written down and published. The captivating element o f the virtuosic
transcriptions was the ease, the quasi-improvised manner (and, in some cases, the
improvised manner) with which great pianists such as Liszt and Thalberg tossed off these
amazing technical feats. W hile transcriptions are beginning to see a small revival in the
concert hall and on recordings, their preeminent position in the music world will most
likely never be regained.
85
CHAPTER 3
M OSZKOW SKI’S TANNHAUSER TRANSCRIPTION:
SOURCES AND STYLISTIC CONTEXT
Introduction
In 1914, when Moritz Moszkowski published his transcription o f the orgiastic
Venusberg scene from Tannhauser, W agner’s opera was nearly seven decades old. Yet,
thanks to the beauty o f the music, the well-oiled public relations efforts from Bayreuth,
and the continuing popular performances o f this and other W agner works, the opera-
loving public seemed ready for M oszkowski’s transcription. M oszkow ski’s
Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper Tannhauser von Richard Wagner is an ideal work with
which to begin an exploration o f his transcription style. Although it is not his first
transcription, it demonstrates nearly all aspects o f his transcription technique. Because o f
the complexity o f the transcription’s sources and the multifarious techniques used by
Moszkowski, this work is treated in two chapters.
The present chapter reviews the revisions that W agner’s Tannhauser underwent
and demonstrates which version Moszkowski used as the basis for his Nachkomponierte
Szene zur Oper Tannhauser. I have been unable to locate other piano transcriptions
based on the version o f the Venusberg/Bacchanal scene used by M oszkowski. Therefore,
I examine three piano-vocal scores that exhibit affinities with M oszkow ski’s
transcriptions.
86
In addition I look at two solo piano transcriptions that offer insight into
M oszkowski’s compositional techniques. The first is Leopold Godowsky’s short
paraphrase based on the opera’s important thematic m aterial.1 Although Godowsky’s
work was written long after M oszkow ski’s, it contains many interesting points o f
comparison. The second work by Franz Liszt is more monumental in scope and size.
While the Liszt and Godowsky transcriptions are not based on the same Tannhauser
version as the M oszkowski, these three works share m any motivic similarities and offer
important insight into M oszkowski’s transcriptional style through comparative analysis.
A thematic table (3-1) will be presented to clarify W agner’s revisions and present
a structural analysis o f the Venusberg/Bacchanal scene. Furthermore, this table will
establish a common language with which to discuss the motivic treatment in the
transcriptions and piano-vocal scores.
Chapter four will focus specifically on M oszkowski’s transcription technique in
the Venusberg scene. M oszkow ski’s use o f dynamic and expression markings as
compared to W agner’s, as well as the ways in which M oszkowski deals with musical
transference from an orchestral genre to a solo pianistic one with respect to texture,
timbre, rhythm, and technical considerations will also be explored. A comparison
between the final two sections o f W agner’s Paris version, Venusberg scene, the
corresponding sections in M oszkow ski’s transcription, and an analysis o f M oszkow ski’s
supplementary ending will also be provided. Tables 4-1 and 4-2 show the motivic,
harmonic, and formal structure o f the W agner and Moszkowski versions, respectively.
1 Leopold Godowsky, Operatic Masterpieces: Tannhauser (New York: Simon and

Schuster, 1936), preface, n.p.
87
By the end o f chapter four, conclusions regarding aspects o f M oszkow ski’s transcription
technique can be established.
Thematic M aterial from the Venusberg (Bacchanal) Scene
M oszkowski’s piano transcription o f W agner’s Tannhauser follows closely the
design o f Wagner's 1861 Paris version o f the score. This is important because o f the
significant musical changes among W agner’s versions. In addition to these musical
revisions, the style and use of motivic material in W agner’s operas underwent an
evolution that began w ith the composition o f Tannhauser in 1844-1845 and was not fully
realized until the completion o f Tristan und Isolde (1859). W agner began to imbue his
themes with an identity or had them act as a representation o f different “feelings,
incidents or personalities."2 The condensed form o f the leitmotif, however, did not reach
its full potential until the completion o f Tristan und Isolde. As a result, Arthur Smolian
(1856-1911) says that these musical representations should still be referred to as “themes
not motives.”3 Ernest Newman further elaborates on this point by saying:
The term “m otives,” however, must not be taken to mean what it does in
W agner’s later works. In the Flying Dutchman, Tannhauser and Lohengrin the
motives are solid blocks o f masonry . . . . It was only by degrees that Wagner
mastered the craft o f working with motives o f only a few notes that are capable o f
infinite melodic, harmonic and rhythmical m u tatio n .. . and are capable o f
contrapuntal combination with each other.4
2
Arthur Smolian, The Themes o f Tannhauser, trans. W illiam Ashton Ellis (London:
Chappel, 1891), 1. Although Sm olian’s thematic labels are not appropriate to current
W agner scholarship, they do represent the musical era in which Moszkowski composed
his transcriptions.
3 Smolian, Themes o f Tannhauser, 1.
4 Ernst Newman, The Wagner Operas, vol. 1 (New York: Knopf, 1949; reprint ed., New
York: Harper Colophon, 1983), 67.
88
The fact that these themes either have a meaning or act as a representation o f
something is particularly important in the Venusberg scene, because there is no verbally
articulated text, either sung or spoken.5 Instead, the audience is given only visual and
musical representations o f the interior o f the Venusberg, its inhabitants (including Venus,
Tannhauser, the three Graces, various Fauns, Satyrs, Naiads, Sirens, Cupids, Nymphs,
Youths, and Bacchantes), and a glimpse o f their ensuing orgy o f sensual pleasure “with
gestures o f exalted intoxication.”6 To heighten and intensify the listener’s understanding
and appreciation o f this erotic drama, Smolian assigns names to the various themes.
It is likely that Moszkowski knew Smolian’s The Themes o f Tannhauser.
Smolian taught in Leipzig, and his guide was extremely popular, so much so that it
inspired an English translation by W illiam Ashton Ellis in 1891. Ellis noted that its
German counterpart had become indispensable to the German-speaking audiences and
that English-speaking audiences were in need o f an explanation o f the musical events that
occurred in the opera.
The following musical examples from Smolian’s guide show the W agner themes
found in M oszkowski’s Venusberg paraphrase7:
5 The one exception occurs towards the end o f the scene when the Sirens’ Choir is heard
from offstage.
6 Newman, Wagner Operas, 71. This is a quote from W agner him self that Newman uses
to describe the actions taking place in the Venusberg.
7 Themes 1-3 are omitted because they appear only in the Overture and are not included
in the Venusberg scene. Themes 10 and 11 are based on musical material that is not
included in W agner’s Paris version. None o f these themes is, therefore, included in
Moszkowski’s transcription.
89
Table 3-1. Themes from the Venusberg Scene
Theme 4. Der bacchantische Reihen - The Bacchanalian Dance
£ **------------
-S->
if-
— i ^ —
f- 4- -1—~r/ a
Theme 5. Die sinnberuckenden Jubelklange - Strains o f M addening Revelry
s 1 Lr I «*-
.* i sfSif
'
0 j# _ .,**_•_# nii.* — * j -
s
-rj- - O ' -----------------------
Theme 6. Das ungestiime Jauchzen - The Riotous Shout
; « p c c o crcsc.
pp ki- • A *
*£•
i -*■ -<r ^ »
8 The musical examples were digitally photographed from the 1891 edition o f Smolian’s
Guide. The pages o f the book are crumbling, and parts have disintegrated entirely. This
is particularly evident in the example o f Theme 15.
90
Theme 7. Das kiihne Sehnen - Passionate Yearning
r - s T f i , r*B r f ' p n p b K:
ip dim.
Theme 8. D er wilde W onneruf - The Wild Cry o f Delight
Theme 9. Die Siindensucht - Sin’s Desire
seBr ciustfrudisi 'o lf
Theme 12a. Die Trunkenheits-Gebarden - The Intoxicated Gestures
91
Theme 12b. Die Trunkenheits-Gebarden - The Intoxicated Gestures
Theme 13. Der zwingende Zauber der Sinne - The Senses’ M astering Spell
Theme 14a. Der Lockruf - The Decoy-call: “Naht euch dem Strande. N aht euch dem
Lande” from the Sirens’ Choir.
/
S. r £
Ghor der Sirenen
(unsichtbar) Nahteuchdem Stran - - de!
$ Choeuv invisible des Sire-ne.^ur cc^' ' ' ife>
A. &
m
Theme 14b. Der Lockruf - The Decoy-call: “wo in den Armen gliihender Liebe suss
Erwarmen still ’ eure TriebeH
wo in den A r - - men Rluhen- der Lie -

clp. Va - mour fa r . den - te i - vres -
wo in . men
92
Theme 15. Die Friedenskunde - The Theme o f Peace
■/■: iriif tii'li J lim .it:

■E te r lial pence
. _<L
... _ (S > -
H ill :S -
o- -p r
<7iV ( f i r /'Viir
s h a ll flow am i
/r " iik i i i n i i i i i i ' a o tt.it tin rent )////' ,/’t - tli’u!"

ing, aiid n o - v e r more shalt thou for - siike me ! ”
Theme 16. Die Liebesumarmungen - Love’s Embrace
93
The Paris Version o f Tannhauser
Tannhauser is particularly abundant in piano-vocal score editions because o f
W agner’s multiple revisions. M any o f these publications are erroneously listed as Paris
version editions. The confusion arises between the music performed in Paris in 1861, and
the subsequent revisions based on the subsequent performances there. W agner’s final
revisions concluded with the 1875 performance in Vienna.
Although the score o f Tannhauser was initially completed and dated by W agner on
April 15, 1845, it was not the end o f his obsession with this opera. The Wagner Werk-
Verzeichnis (W W V f explains that W agner’s efforts in finalizing Tannhauser had “four
stages.” The first o f these occurred in 1845 with the completion o f the score and its
initial performance in Dresden that year. The Venusberg scene in stage one is very
different from its later incarnations. Most notable is the absence o f five themes,
including The Decoy-call (theme 14a & b), The Theme o f Peace (theme 15), and L o v e ’s
Embrace (theme 16).
The second stage refers to the piano-vocal score that was published by M eser in
1860. This version shows significant changes to the Venusberg scene, including lush
harmonies that are reminiscent o f W agner’s post-Tristan textures. The clash o f W agner’s
two different compositional styles (pre- and post- Tristan) created a stylistic inconsistency
o f which W agner was aware .10 The main impetus for the revision o f the Venusberg scene
9 John Deathridge, M artin Geek, Egon Voss, Wagner Werk-Verzeichnis (Mainz: B.

Schott, 1986), 284-95.
10 Carolyn Abbate, “Orpheus and the Underworld: The M usic o f W agner’s Tannhauser,”
English National Opera Guide, no. 39, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder, 1988),
33. Abbate comments on a quotation found in the Cosima W agner D iaries o f October 19,
1881: “R. (...) appeared after all to find a certain disproportion between the new scene
and the rest o f the piece.” Abbate elaborates:that “ . . .W agner recognized a disproportion
94
was its upcoming Paris performance and the need for a ballet. W agner expanded the
Bacchanal to satisfy the French passion for ballet. Interestingly it is this 1860 Meser
piano-vocal score edited by Joseph Rubinstein, rather than a later edition, that Smolian
used in 1891 to identify and characterize the themes.
Stage three refers to the unpublished version heard during the three performances
at the Paris Opera in 1861. Ironically, after all o f W agner’s carefully thought-out
changes, no two o f the Paris performances were alike. W agner was forced to make on-
the-spot revisions and cuts because o f technical difficulties .11
Stage four is the culmination o f the post-1861 revisions. According to the WWV
these include changes for the 1875 version that W agner supervised in Vienna, as well as
the piano-vocal score published in 1876, and the posthumous full score o f 1888.
Although stage four represents the opera’s final version it is not clear that W agner was
musically satisfied . 12 Even after all o f his radical revisions W agner still considered it
unfinished. Cosima W agner wrote in her diary, “. . . he [Wagner] says, he still owes
or imbalance [Missverhaltniss] between the opera’s older and newer parts was a defect
needing to be remedied.”
11 Mike Ashman, “Tannhauser - An Obsession,” The English National Opera Guide, no.
39, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder, 1988), 7-16. According to Ashman,
Wagner was forced to m ake two cuts in the newly added duet between Elisabeth and
Tannhauser and completely omit the very important second appearance o f Venus because
o f problems with the stage band. This is significant because in addition to the musical
changes, such as to the Bacchanal, the role o f Venus was redefined between the original
Dresden performance and this newer Parisian one. Earlier in W agner’s conception, Venus
was portrayed more as an “operatic devil.” However, during the intervening years of
revision, W agner altered the Venus persona to act as a “polar opposite o f the ‘pure love’
o f Elisabeth.” This shift transformed Venus into the now famous representation o f
“selfish erotic love.”
12 Abbate, “Orpheus and the Underworld,” 33. The revisions for the Paris version caused
Wagner much turmoil, in terms of finding a satisfactory way o f melding his earlier and
later compositional styles.
95
Tannhauser to the w orld .” 13 Abbate adds that “the final version... was not really final, or
rather it was only made final accidentally, by W agner’s death .” 14
O f these four stages the second is now commonly referred to as the “Dresden
version,” and the final, stage-four version is known as the “Paris version.” Close
comparison with the various versions shows that for his Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper
Tannhauser Moszkowski took as his musical template the “Paris version.”
The compositional differences between the Paris and Viennese versions are both
subtle and significant, a situation which only adds to the musical confusion between the
two. The 1861 Paris version has a discrete Overture. This Overture is identical to the
one that was used in the original Dresden performance o f 1845. In the preface to the
Eulenberg 15 edition o f the full score, Max Hochkofler describes accounts o f
performances, including one under Hans von Biilow, when applause was heard after the
Overture and before the curtain went up at the beginning o f Scene I. In the Paris version,
the conclusion o f the Overture is followed by an extended Bacchanal scene at the opening
of Act I; its purpose was to replace the “required" second-act ballet o f French opera.
The Eulenberg full score places all the post-Dresden material into supplemental
sections. Supplements one and two include the opening musical changes used in the
Paris version. The first supplement consists o f only twenty-six measures and is
immediately followed by the second supplement, which greatly extends and concludes
the first scene. This second supplement continues through the second scene before
returning to the original Dresden material in the middle o f the third scene. Essentially,
13 Abbate, 33.
14 Abbate, 33..
15 Preface by Max Hochkofler in: Richard Wagner, Tannhauser und der Sangerkrieg a u f
Wartburg (London: Ernst Eulenberg, [1929]). See source XXXD in WWV, 285.
96
Wagner rewrote the first two scenes and part o f the third in order to accommodate the
choreographed extension o f the Paris Bacchanal.
The confusion arises with subsequent revisions. For the Vienna performance,
Wagner combined the Overture with the Bacchanal, instead o f keeping them as two
separate, lengthy musical numbers. In m. 286 o f the Overture W agner indicates an elided
segue into the beginning o f supplement two from the 1861 Paris version. Much
confusion arose from this change, and, as a result, many o f the “stage-four” Vienna
version piano-vocal scores have frequently been mislabeled as Paris version scores. The
1861 and 1875 versions have m any musical similarities. The 1861 Paris version,
however, has a free-standing Overture with a formal conclusion, while the 1875 version
segues into the Bacchanal from the middle o f the Overture, thus avoiding any break in the
musical continuity.
Piano-Vocal Score Transcriptions
An important and overlooked form o f transcription is found in piano-vocal scores
o f operas. Although these scores are not intended for solo performance, there are still
many occasions when a pianist is required to play from them in a performance setting. A
successful piano-vocal score clearly and practically communicates the composer’s
intentions, with respect to orchestration, staging, and vocal lines. At the same time, the
limitations o f the keyboard and the needs o f the pianist must be balanced with the
material found in the full orchestral score.
Three piano-vocal scores based on both the Paris and the V ienna versions have
been used as a basis for comparison with M oszkowski’s transcription. Although
97
Moszkowski was not bound by the constraints o f creating a formal piano-vocal score, he
did address many o f the same aesthetic issues. One o f the piano-vocal scores used for
comparison is an 1876 Dresden version transcribed by Joseph Rubinstein .16 Another
piano-vocal version is by Otto Singer with an English translation by Ernest Newm an .17
jo
This 1910 score is representative o f the Stage 4 revisions. After an extensive search,
the present author successfully located only one score that is entirely based on the 1861
Paris performances . 19 O f the piano-vocal scores examined, this Durand edition is the
most likely version to have found its way to Moszkowski because his transcription
follows the Paris version’s musical layout. This version provides a French translation
and piano reduction by Charles Nuitter and was approved by W agner himself. For
purposes o f clarification, these three piano-vocal scores will be referred to hereafter as
the Rubinstein, Singer, and N uitter versions.
A philosophical decision must be made at the outset o f creating a piano-vocal
score. Is the keyboard part going to be a simplified reduction? Or will it closely
approximate the full scope o f the orchestration? The stylistic variety o f piano-vocal
editions reflects the underlying differences in transcription approaches.
16 Richard Wagner, Tannhauser und der Sdngerkrieg a u f Wartburg, piano-vocal score

Joseph Rubinstein, ed. Adolph Fiirstner (Berlin: C.F. Meser, 1876). See source XXVII in
WWV, 284.
17 Richard Wagner, Tannhauser and the Tournament o f Song on the Wartburg-, piano-
vocal score by Otto Singer (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1910). See source XXXIn in
WWV.
18 It is possible that Singer’s piano-vocal score was influenced b y Rubinstein’s score
because there are so many pianistically unusual similarities.
19 Richard Wagner, Tannhauser, piano-vocal score and trans. Charles N uitter (Paris: A.
Durand et Fils, 1892). Source XXXIk in the WWV indicates that this score is a reprint o f
an 1891 Durand et Schoenewerk score.
98
The most complex and saturated type o f piano-vocal score (type A) includes an
orchestral style o f keyboard writing, stage directions, and key instrumentation
indications. Orchestral parts are included even when they are not feasibly playable by the
performer. Although this creates a more complicated score, it allows the able performer
to make an informed decision about what to include or omit. If part-reading is not a
particular specialty for the pianist, then this type o f score is a good second choice to
performing one’s own orchestral reduction from the full score. The Rubinstein score is a
good example o f a “type A” piano-vocal score.
A second type o f piano-vocal score (type B) is geared towards providing an
accurate part that is more technically accessible to a wide range o f pianistic skills. These
scores provide simpler harmonic reductions and do not generally include instrumentation
indications. Because less effort is put into reproducing the orchestral timbres, textures,
and instrumental ranges, these scores are better suited for practice purposes. The Nuitter
score illustrates a “type B” piano-vocal score.
The third type o f piano-vocal score (type C) produces a combination o f the first
two. These scores closely replicate orchestral qualities such as timbre, texture, range,
articulation, and instrumentation. At the same time, however, the technical level o f
difficulty is moderated. They create a balance between the technically demanding
passages while producing an orchestral-like atmosphere on the piano. The Singer piano-
vocal score provides an example o f this “type C” score. Among the three piano-vocal
scores compared, the Singer score (type C) shares the greatest number o f similarities to
M oszkowski’ s transcription.
99
Transcription Techniques
The music just before the climax o f the Bacchanal is shown in examples 3-la-e.
The stage directions, given by W agner and duplicated in the Singer, Rubinstein, and
• 90
Nuitter editions, state: “The general tumult rises to the maddest climax.” W agner’s
winds and brass have the same dotted rhythm, while the divisi strings play continuous
sixteenth notes. There is a full complement o f percussion instruments, with rolling
timpani and castanets, and triangle supporting the dotted rhythm. The orchestral
dynamics indicate an extended molto crescendo and sempre crescendo leading to a forte
in m. 138. The rich orchestration produces a substantial and full fo rte sound.
Both Nuitter and Moszkowski treat this passage with restraint. The dotted
rhythmic figure is outlined in both hands with no attempt to approximate the instrumental
doublings. Although Nuitter (ex. 3 -Id) indicates forte, he shows dynamic restraint by
eliminating the instrumental doublings and thus reduces the thickness o f texture and
dynamic depth in this passage.
Moszkowski (ex. 3-lb) also uses dynamic restraint by saving his resources for the
later climax in m. 175. The presentation o f the Riotous Shout Theme (theme 6 ) retains
the w inds’ dotted rhythm in the right hand. The rustling movement o f W agner’s repeated
string sixteenth notes is suggested by the sixteenth-note broken-chord left-hand pattern
(mm. 163-66). This outlines the harmony and maintains a strong sense o f rhythmic drive.
The open-spaced right-hand octave chords and the dissonant B pedal in the bass, give
Moszkowski a forceful, orchestral-like sound quality unlike the Nuitter version, which
has a thinner sound.
90
“der allgemeine Taumel steigert sich zur hochsten WuthT The English translation
comes from the Singer score.
100
Example 3 -la. Wagner, Paris version, mm. 134-37.
ki.Pl.
itm y re crtie.
molto eretr.
eretc.
E.E.4S& 0
Example 3-lb . M oszkowski, mm. 162-66.
101
Example 3 -lc. Singer, mm. 419-22.
4r r r r r r - r r ft r r~
/ ‘Bl.u.Str. z u j.
3 .1 .1 3 2 2 2
u f 3 3 3 3
' * * g i am *
! ■ ■i ’ • • 25 V
» W
T1
— fr*---- r__—f r . ------------------ --------------------- tr - ■■ - ■■
Example 3-1 d. Nuitter, mm. 160-63.
8 - -------------
...f _
/ h * - je -
r s r ti-
-j_ -j i j- j—i
Example 3-1 e. Rubinstein, mm.123-27.21
<v
21 For the purposes o f this dissertation, the numbering o f the measures begins at the
opening o f Scene I, as indicated on page sixteen o f the Rubinstein score w ith measure
one.
102
The Singer (ex. 3 -lc) and Rubinstein (ex. 3-le) scores interpret this section as a
more dramatic moment, rather than a climactic preparation. Both scores divide the staff
into three lines to accommodate the orchestral density o f W agner’s score. The bottom,
bass-clef line indicates the kettledrum roll on B with a trill mark. This line seems
superfluous because it is unclear how a two-handed pianist could play the low roll and
remaining two treble staves concurrently, yet its inclusion alerts the singer and pianist to
its presence in the orchestration. This is the only occurrence in this scene where the two
scores present material that cannot be performed by a single pianist. Singer and
Rubinstein highlight the section’s importance by indicating both the roll and the original
instrumentation, thus communicating the underlying sound quality the perform er should
seek. Perhaps the presence o f the kettledrum’s roll enhances the use o f pedal to muddy
the sound a bit in imitation o f the underlying low dissonant ramble.
W agner’s distinction between a wedge and a staccato clarifies his intentions to
the performer. O f the Rubinstein and Singer scores, Rubinstein’s interpretation o f
W agner’s articulation markings produces a more accurate picture. W hile both Singer and
Rubinstein put wedges over the thematic material in the right hand, Singer lightens this
effect with staccato marks in the left hand, thus drawing less attention to the cross rhythm
produced between the triplet and the sixteenth notes. Rubinstein, however, indicates the
more pronounced wedge articulation in both the left and right hands.
Another way in which Rubinstein’s score comes across more strongly is in the
sheer number o f notes per chord. W hile both Singer and Rubinstein indicate an octave
chord in the right hand, the former fills this in with an additional third, while the latter
writes very full, four-note chords.
103
The left-hand part (middle staff) also produces a rhythmic conundrum. Both o f
these scores have an unusual way o f suggesting the rustling string sixteenth notes.
Instead o f writing lightly moving sixteenth notes, both Rubinstein and Singer use a more
deliberate and heavier triplet rhythm in the left hand. Perhaps, when faced with a choice
between using eighth notes, triplets or sixteenths, the eighth notes seemed too slow and
the sixteenth notes seemed too fast; therefore, resulting in the moderately fast triplet.
There is no basis for this rhythmic alteration in W agner’s score.
Singer realizes the harmony in two-note thirds and sixths, while Rubinstein
orchestrates this theme in a more grandiose fashion. Rubinstein writes a challenging
multi-textured left-hand part. The dotted rhythm o f the right hand is reinforced in the
downward-stemmed left-hand bass line. The upward stemmed left-hand triplet chords
are written out as two- and three-note chords. However, the combined effect o f the lower
dotted rhythm and the upper triplet chords produces a four-note chord at the beginning o f
all four beats within the measure. The resulting effect when the right- and left-hand parts
are combined is that the dotted eighth notes produce an eight-note chord w hile the
sixteenth notes become five-note chords. These chords are heavy and occur in the most
powerful register o f the piano. The articulation wedges in both hands also accentuate the
thematic material. So much activity is taking place that it is unlikely a performer could
comfortably hold the dynamic level to a mere forte, thus producing an imposing pianistic
effect.
Both the Singer and Rubinstein interpretations exaggerate the importance o f this
pre-climactic moment. The Rubinstein version has so many additional notes, strong
articulation markings, and cross rhythms simultaneously happening that the importance
104
o f this moment is over-inflated, and there is not enough “room” to create a spectacular
climactic moment later, in m. 175. In contrast, the Nuitter version does not do enough to
amplify the thematic importance o f this area. The Singer and Moszkowski
interpretations, however, find compelling solutions.
Singer and Moszkowski realize the right hand with exactly the same notes. The
only minor difference occurs in the offbeat wedge articulation marks in the Singer score.
Moszkowski omits W agner’s phrasing and articulation marks. Both Singer and
Moszkowski recognize the rhythmic importance o f the rustling string sixteenth notes.
Moszkowski stays close to W agner’s intentions and reproduces the rhythmic figure in a
series o f broken-chord sixteenth notes (mm. 163-66), while Singer composes a slower
underlying triplet rhythm that has no basis in W agner’s score. It is rather ironic that the
supposedly more precise piano-vocal score takes greater rhythmic liberty, while the
“freer” transcription remains more faithful to the original.
Examples 3-2a-e also highlight basic philosophical differences among the various
scores. Rubinstein once again explores ways o f transforming the piano into a m ini
orchestra (ex. 3-2d). Although Rubinstein’s right-hand chords are not entirely accurate
reflections o f W agner’s score (ex. 3-2a ),22 he captures the sound quality and texture o f
the four-note woodwind chord by writing them as octaves with either three or four notes.
While Rubinstein emulates the woodwind choir’s textural quality, his arrangement is less
successful in reproducing the atmospheric essence o f this passage for pianists o f
moderate- to small-sized hands. Even those pianists with larger hand sizes will need a
22 This is because the flute and clarinet parts double each other at the interval o f an
octave. Rubinstein has filled in the right-hand chords with extraneous notes.
105
fair amount o f technical skill and agility to perform this passage so that it is energetic,
light and pianissimo.
Example 3-2a. W agner, Paris version, mm. 227-30.
Ipd'ilce
Ob.
Ob.
Kl.
Kl.
Ms.
Hr.< Hr.<
Hrf.<
Hr.
VI.
naht euch dem Lan .
pres dv. r i - va ■
Br.
Vo.
Kb.
106
Example 3-2b. Nuitter, mm. 253-56.
Example 3-2c. Singer, mm. 512-15.
Naht euch dem Lan

F ra g ran t with fla m
HIzbl.
VP
Ilrf.
Example 3-2d. Rubinstein, mm. 232-36.
L an -
VP i !
Ij
107
Example 3-2e. M oszkowski, mm. 240-43.
.h" •
Wagner marks this passage piano dolce. Rubinstein’s pianissimo restrains the
pianist’s natural tendency to play louder when there are more notes. The thick, full
register in which these right-hand chords are placed further exacerbates the difficulty o f
the dynamic indication. The pianist must overcome the difficulties o f playing large
pianissimo chords in a register that is neither inherently light, nor sweet, in order to set up
the Sirens’ magical atmosphere.
Another drawback resulting from the range o f these right-hand chords is their
interference with the left-hand “harp” line. The harp’s natural sound invokes an
atmosphere o f veiled mysticism. Rather than lightening the right-hand chord texture to
allow greater freedom in transcribing the harp’s gradually rising wave-like figure,
Rubinstein places the final harp sextuplet sixteenth note in the lowest note o f the right-
hand chord. Although this is a practical hand division, it prevents the left hand from
completing the harp gesture and breaks the smoothness and momentum o f the
arpeggiated gesture.
108
Rubinstein also unsuccessfully highlights the different timbres o f the harp and the
woodwind choir by delaying the entrance o f each new harp wave by one sixteenth note so
that the harp’s rising inversions do not compete with the woodwind choir. This delay
further shortens the length o f the arpeggiation and leaves gaps in w hat should be a
seamlessly arpeggiated figure.
As before, Nuitter chooses the opposite extreme and simplifies the score with
respect to both technical and orchestral considerations (ex. 3-2b). N uitter’s piano right
hand outlines only the flute part with the exception o f the first chord on beat one that has
an additional D sharp to complete the harmony. This passage poses no technical
challenges and can be easily performed pianissimo and dolce. However, this section
lacks both color and texture because there are no instrumental indications. The closed
double thirds do not provide a lot o f overtone resonance. W hile the left hand retains the
continuity o f the harp line, no effort is made to reproduce the rising arpeggiated notes.
The result is a rather mundane, rolling broken-chord figure. W here the vocal parts first
appear, Nuitter further simplifies the score by omitting the orchestral part entirely (mm.
250, 254). This makes the choir part eminently playable but does not leave the pianist
with a full or accurate understanding o f W agner’s intentions. If the pianist were working
with a full cast, an unexpected absence o f music would occur.
The Singer score takes into account both the orchestral and technical
considerations (ex. 3-2c). Compared to the Nuitter version, the piano right hand is
expanded and includes two-, three- and four-note octave chords. The Singer score is not
as heavy-handed as the Rubinstein because o f the thoughtful placem ent o f the larger
three- and four-note chords. The four-note chords occur only on the melodic strong
109
beats .23 The chord structures themselves enhance the intrinsic strengths and weaknesses
o f the melody. The three-note chords have several advantages over the four-note chords,
because a lighter and less dense texture occurs as a result o f both the quantity o f notes
and their spacing. The two-note chords are also strategically important because they no
longer interfere with the left-hand harp line. Like Rubinstein, Singer chooses to offset
the first note o f each o f the harp inversions. However, this change that seemed so
awkward in the Rubinstein score appears less invasive here. Because the arpeggiation
continues for five o f the six sixteenth notes, the right hand is used as a rhythmic
springboard from which the left-hand figure is generated. This connection between the
two hands is lost in the Rubinstein score as a result o f all the sixteenth rests. Singer also
chooses to include both the orchestral and vocal parts (with text) on separate systems.
This allows the pianist to make an educated choice regarding which parts to include or
omit when the choir enters.
M oszkowski’s approach here combines aspects from all three o f these versions
(ex. 3-2e). Like Singer, M oszkowski realizes the melodic chords with varying numbers
o f notes that enhance the natural melodic contour. M oszkowski also transforms the left-
hand harp line. After an initial arpeggio, the left-hand texture changes into double fifth-
and sixth-chords in groups o f two. The interspersed, isolated triplet sixteenth rests give a
more articulated and breathless quality in contrast to W agner’s more lush harp setting,
although the sustained pedal mark softens this effect.
23 The time signature has changed to 3/4, but Singer’s melodic phrasing feels more like
4/4. As a result, beats one and three in m. 512 are strong, while beat two in m. 512 and
beat one in m. 513 are weak.
110
Moszkowski is not as forthright as the piano-vocal score transcribers in terms of
including all o f W agner’s orchestral and vocal material. As a result, like Nuitter, he
chooses to omit the final orchestral notes that overlap the Sirens’ Choir entrance (m.
241). M oszkowski makes a deliberate break between the two parts that is both visual and
aural. Both the piano-vocal scores and M oszkowski’s transcription separate the
orchestral and vocal lines onto different staves. Like Nuitter, M oszkowski feels that the
characters o f the orchestral and vocal parts are better clarified when they are not in direct
competition. M oszkow ski’s two sets o f staves are aurally separated by the careful pedal
indications. N one o f the other piano-vocal scores provide pedal markings for this
section. M oszkow ski’s specific pedalings prevent any overlap between the orchestral and
vocal parts.
In addition to maintaining a distinction between the orchestral and vocal parts,
M oszkowski is also aware o f the pianistic dangers that occur w hen imitating a held note
produced by a sustaining instrument or voice. His response here is to create a “ self-
sustaining” note or chord by embellishing the held one (m. 242). These long choir chords
provide Moszkowski with an opportunity to explore ways o f sustaining a held note .24
This mini-cadenza-like figure both sustains the sound o f the held chord and enhances the
magical atmosphere surrounding the Sirens.
G odowsky’s Tannhauser
Godowsky’s work uses only basic thematic ideas, which he adapts for his own
purposes. He refers to this piece as a transcription and writes in his preface:
24 Further discussion o f how M oszkowski finds ways to imitate the sound o f orchestral
held notes on the piano occurs in Chapter 4 at example 4-9b.
Ill
Unfortunately, piano scores o f operas are not idiomatic o f the instrument. It was,
therefore, m y purpose to transcribe these selections in a way to make them sound
as if they had been written originally for the pianoforte. As in all transcriptions o f
a creative character, I had to avail m yself o f harmonic, contrapuntal and
constructive devices o f my own whenever I found them indispensable to the
furtherance o f the idiom o f the pianoforte .25
Although he claims to have left the melodies intact, Godowsky created a clever musical
deceit and changed m uch of W agner’s original material.
Neither Godowsky nor Liszt utilizes the same part o f Tannhauser as Moszkowski,
yet both incorporate thematic material found in the Dresden Overture and the final
version o f Scene I. Godowsky’s opening two measures present the Riotous Shout (theme
6 ) in the key o f D, a step lower than W agner’s original key .26
Example 3-3. Godowsky, Tannhauser m. 1.
A lle g r o -=>= eo - 88 'f :i
f agitato
Godowsky’s right-hand texture (ex. 3-3) is simplified in the same manner as
Nuitter’s right hand in m. 253 (cf. ex. 3-2b). The left-hand rhythm is changed from
W agner’s triplet figure to a broken-chord sixteenth-note tremolo. The time signature is
also altered from W agner’s cut-time to 4/4. The dynamic is fo rte and the tempo
25
Leopold Godowsky, Operatic Masterpieces: Tannhauser, preface, n.p.
“ Perhaps Godowsky chose to write his transcription in the key o f D m ajor because it
allowed greater technical ease. W agner’s original keys for m any o f the themes Godowsky
used in this transcription would have been cumbersome had they been preserved.
Godowsky’s harmonic changes allowed his transcription to be accessible to pianists with
a wider range o f technical abilities.
112
allegro/agitato. A logical conclusion is that this thematic arrangement emanates from
Theme 4. Yet, immediately following (see ex. 3-4 from m. 3 to beat one o f m. 4) is
thematic material from the opening o f the Sirens’ Choir, marked piano tranquillo. While
the tied right-hand chord in m. 4 is held, the left hand plays the thematic material that
immediately precedes the Sirens’ Choir entrance. At first hearing, none o f this thematic
material sounds amiss, but a closer analysis reveals Godowsky’s clever thematic
manipulation.
Exam ple 3- 4. G odow sky, Tannhauser mm. 3-6.
jp tra n q u illo
2
4-
Godowsky has taken advantage o f the fact that W agner’s thematic construction
lends itself to multiple combinations. There is a close rhythmic and melodic similarity
between theme 8 (The W ild Cry o f Delight) and the opening o f the Sirens’ Choir.
Although theme 8 is in 4/4 and the Sirens’ Choir theme is in 3/4, the Sirens’ Choir is
essentially a rhythmically condensed version o f theme 8 . If theme 8 were rhythmically
doubled, it would be completed in four beats, the same length as the Siren’s introductory
melody. The intervals and rhythmic structures are otherwise the same.
Godowsky uses this thematic flexibility and presents a strong agitato melody that
is highly reminiscent o f theme 8 . Although it is immediately followed by the Siren’s
113
theme, the juxtaposition does not come across as jarring. The reason is that the “Naht
euch dem Lande” part o f the Sirens’ Choir theme is preceded by musical m aterial that is
also from theme 8 (cf. ex. 3-2a). All o f this musical material happens so quickly that the
listener does not have time to react. By the time the repetition appears (mm. 7-12)
Godowsky changes the dynamic to piano to more closely approximates the actual
dynamic that precedes the introductory section o f the Sirens’ Choir (theme 14).
Godowsky (mm. 4-5) encounters the same challenge that Moszkowski faced. How can
the piano adequately sustain the long-held choir note on “Lande” and “Strande?”
M oszkowski’s solution (ex. 4-9b, m. 238) was to write an entirely original velocissimo
cadential-like passage that diverted attention away from the decaying tied dotted half
note, refreshed the sustained chord, and provided atmospheric sparkle. Although it
intensifies and clarifies its musical setting, this passage sounds isolated from the
surrounding material. G odow sky’s solution is also clever, but rather than drawing
attention to this m om ent with a cadenza, he conceals it within a thematic context.
Godowsky’s transcription also has a rhythmic issue that must be taken into
consideration. Because Godowsky has altered the time signature o f the Sirens’ Choir’s
theme from 3/4 to 4/4, his held note, on what should be either “Lande” or “Strande,”
occupies ten beats, as opposed to W agner’s five. Even with the addition o f a s f on the
melodic F sharp at the downbeat o f m. 4, the note decay will be significant. If the held
chord is not played with enough key depth, articulation, and dynamic force, there will
probably be no sound left for a smooth diminuendo transition into the resolution from F
sharp to E.
114
Godowsky’s solution incorporates the dotted-rhythm figure o f theme 8 as a
harmonic outline to the long-held chord. The rhythmic figure, accent and tenuto marks,
and sixteenth rest all keep the direction moving forward with energy and buoyancy.
Thus, by burying the held high F sharp from beneath with a Wagner-like thematic line,
Godowsky avoids decay in a musically integrated solution reminiscent o f some o f
M oszkowski’s own musical deceptions. Both composers appear to take a certain pride in
being able to write music that so closely imitates the original work that only a careful
analysis reveals exactly which material belongs to whom.
Godowsky has a variety o f interesting transcription techniques; however, his
efforts produce something that is less orchestrally rich in sound than M oszkowski’s. Like
Nuitter, Godowsky’s transcription does not unnecessarily tax a pianist’s technical
prowess. While Godowsky preserves the thematic elements closely, the timbres,
textures, and articulation possibilities are not as fully explored as in the Singer,
Moszkowski, and Liszt examples (see below). This is in part due to Godowsky’s
transcription simplification. Although Godowsky states in the score’s preface that his
goal is to write music that sounds as if it were originally conceived as a solo piano work,
his short paraphrase lacks the grandeur and vibrancy found in both Liszt’s and
M oszkowski’s works.
Liszt's Overture to Tannhauser
Liszt takes a different compositional approach in his Overture to Tannhauser.
Like M oszkowski and Godowsky, Liszt is not bound by the formal constraints o f a piano-
vocal score; however, he does not share either N uitter’s or Godowsky’s “orchestral
115
simplification.” Liszt’s transcription has more in common with Rubinstein, Singer, and
Moszkowski, all o f whom try to find their own appropriate translation from the orchestral
medium to the bravura piano style. Where Rubinstein and Singer are confined to the
limitations of the piano-vocal score genre, Liszt explores m usical ideas that both support
the orchestration and enhance thematic expressiveness.
Although Liszt’s and Moszkowski’s transcriptions use different musical sections

• * • • 27
as starting points, there are many thematic overlaps which make a comparison possible.
Both composers followed W agner’s original score closely, and the changes they brought
to W agner’s score often have a justifiable technical or pianistic foundation.
Liszt and Moszkowski have deeply intuitive orchestral understandings that
undoubtedly arose as a result o f their own orchestral compositions. Both remain
relatively true to W agner’s composition. In fact, Liszt’s transcription is more faithful to
W agner’s score than is M oszkowski’s. Although Moszkowski carefully mimics the
thematic material and orchestration, there are several sections where he inserts his own
original material (see Chapter 4 for details). Liszt, however, does not tamper with the
original structure o f W agner’s work in this additive manner. Instead, if the underlying
orchestration does not provide enough expressive, dynamic, or textural support, then he
freely writes his own supporting material to increase the impact o f the thematic
statement.
One such example occurs at the arrival o f the Passionate Yearning Theme (theme
7). W agner’s orchestration o f this theme is identical in both the Dresden and Paris
27
Liszt uses the Dresden Overture as the basis for his transcription. Thematically
corresponding sections form the basis o f comparison because the Overture is the same in
both the Paris and Dresden versions.
116
versions. Here Liszt and Moszkowski take very different transcription approaches (ex. 3-
5a~c).
Example 3- 5a. W agner, p. 17, m. 4 . 28
kl. FI-
g r.F l.
Ob.
K l.
(A)
Vh.
(E>
Wh.
(E)
1.V1.'
2.VI.
Br.
Vc.
Kb.
28 The score location is given with the page and measure number because the Eulenberg
score does not contain measure numbers.
117
Example 3-5b. M oszkowski, m. 12.
Example 3- 5c. Liszt, mm. 93-94.
jjT n f ■ £
^ - p n -------------------------------------------------:— ^ ----------------: :
>•
_ cresc.
M oszkowski accounts for each instrumental part (ex. 3-5b). The piano right hand
includes the main thematic melody, the piccolo and oboe lines, and the supporting D
sharp o f the second oboe part. M oszkowski does not write this D sharp as a tied whole
note, but incorporates it into the Passionate Yearning Theme (theme 7). The left-hand
part evolves to keep the remaining tied wind and brass notes from decaying in volume.
The use o f the double-dotted eighth note followed by a thirty-second note adds rhythmic
support to the thematic material. From a technical perspective, the writing for both hands
is cumbersome and a bit heavy. A large flexible hand is needed to accommodate the
rapid jum p in the left hand. The right-hand line is a little more playable, but still
challenges the perform er to find a flexible legato fingering. For the average-sized hand
118
the stretch of the right-hand octaves creates a break in the legato between the “C” and
“B” octaves. This is most likely the reason Moszkowski omitted W agner’s articulation
markings (cf. ex. 3-5a). Perhaps Moszkowski surmised it would be better to omit any
articulation marks rather than compromise the passage with a new phrasing. This
approach is widely prevalent throughout the transcription.
Like Moszkowski, Liszt realizes a viable solution for the note-decay issue that
arises when transcribing the wind and brass parts (ex. 3-5c). The approach that Liszt
chooses is radically different from that in any o f the other works examined. Liszt
transfers the emotional impact without placing too much attention on individual
instrumental parts. As a result, Liszt portrays a musically dramatic “passionate
yearning.” The right-hand part simply outlines the piccolo line. The flexibility o f playing
rapid and light thirty-second notes with W agner’s original articulation markings is
preserved. The left hand pours out all o f the pent-up longing and desire in a nearly three-
octave descending sixteenth-note chromatic scale. As the scale descends, it grows
dynamically with one long crescendo mark.
This moment captures the compositional essence o f Liszt’s transcription style in
this piece. Thematically Liszt is absolutely faithful to W agner’s score. Even though
Moszkowski presents a faithful thematic rendition, he freely omits or alters W agner’s
original articulation markings. Liszt finds a solution that leaves the melody intact, but
writes a supporting or accompanimental figure that expresses the emotional content in a
pianistic manner. From a purely technical perspective, Liszt’s version is not only much
easier to play, but it is emotionally more satisfying as well.
119
Example 3-6a. W agner, Dresden Overture, p. 20, mm. 110-11.29
Ob.
K l.
(A)
Br.
Example 3- 6b. Liszt, mm. 111-12.
accel. prestissimo
n n
dim .
29The corresponding place in the Paris version is found in Supplement II, mm. 1-2.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited w ithout permission.
120
Example 3-6c. M oszkowski, mm. 30-31.
Another example that highlights the differences between Liszt’s and
M oszkowski’s techniques occurs in a transitional two-measure passage. In the Dresden
version (ex. 3-6a) these two measures o f orchestral trill serve as a transition from the
Overture’s opening thematic material to the beginning o f the Bacchanal section. Because
Wagner used this same transition as a bridge in his revisions, these orchestral trills are
common to both the Dresden Overture and the Paris version, Scene I (ex. 3-6c).
Liszt and Moszkowski have taken very different compositional approaches.
Moszkowski slows the rhythm down from thirty-second notes to sixteenth notes (ex. 3-
6d). He writes a carefully measured, repeated figure that has the right hand rocking back
and forth at the interval o f a minor ninth, while the left-hand staccato eighth notes
support the forward motion and rhythmic intensity. This is not a particularly inspiring
passage to play.
Liszt offers the performer a choice for this passage. The main musical gesture on
the lower set o f staves consists o f a thirty-second-note trill in each hand, one octave apart
(ex. 3-6b). A gradual softening is indicated by both a decrescendo mark and a
diminuendo sign. This lowers the intensity before the arrival o f the new thematic
121
material (m. 113).30 Possibly not satisfied with this version, however, Liszt offers the
performer an ossia that is very virtuosic sounding but quite simple to perform (ex. 3-6b,
top staff). The hands have a rapidly alternating chromatic passage that crests like a wave
and finishes o ff in a “swirl o f foam.” The upper, right-hand note remains fixed on an E,
while the left-hand note chases the lower, right-hand note chromatically up and down the
scale. Liszt indicates an accelerando that further accentuates the arrival o f the
prestissim o (m. 112) along with a long two-measure crescendo. Although Liszt has
somewhat altered W agner’s original notes in this ossia, the driving spirit is more vividly
presented. These types o f changes reflect Liszt’s fantastically imaginative and creative
mind.
Example 3-7a. M oszkowski, mm. 7-8.
The Riotous Shout (theme 6) takes on two different musical interpretations in the
Liszt and M oszkowski transcriptions. This theme occurs in both the Dresden and Paris
versions with nearly identical orchestration; only the preceding four-measure harmonic
sequence is slightly different.
30 Most piano-vocal scores realize this passage with the same trill figures that Liszt
presents on the lower set o f staves.
M oszkow ski’s m. 7 (ex. 3-7a) and Liszt’s m. 88 (ex. 3-7c) are the final measures
o f the preceding four-measure trill sequence that immediately precedes the entrance o f
theme 6. M oszkowski slows down W agner’s thirty-second notes to sixteenth notes in
order to set up a strong entrance o f theme 6 (ex. 3-7a). The realization o f this trill
passage imitates the note direction and range o f the moving string parts. A sense o f
expectancy and anticipation results from the inherent rising nature o f this sequential
passage. W hile M oszkowski’s deliberate notational change lessens the intensity o f this
introductory material, it affords him the opportunity to burst into the Riotous Shout
(theme 6; m. 8) with great aplomb. As discussed earlier, Moszkowski fills in W agner’s
sixteenth-note string tremolo with a sweeping sextuplet sixteenth-note scale (ex. 3-7a, m.
8) and captures the character and energy o f the theme in the opening flourish.
The last two beats preserve the melodic and rhythmic content o f the theme (ex. 3-
7a, m. 8). M oszkowski fleshes out the repeated sixteenth-note string tremolo by writing a
broken sixteenth-note figure that fills in the harmony in the right hand. The thematic
dotted rhythm in the right hand is further emphasized by the left-hand part. This is a
Lisztian type o f solution because it maintains thematic integrity while using a different
accompaniment, yet this new accompanimental figure more clearly represents the essence
and spirit o f the thematic material on the piano than a straight reproduction o f W agner’s
original orchestral material. Although this solution is in the “style o f Liszt,” it never
approaches the true flamboyance o f Liszt and makes M oszkowski’s passage eminently
more playable by most pianists.
12 3
31
Example 3-7b. W agner, Paris version, Supplement I, mm. 4-5.
Ob.
SO.
(A)
1. 2 .
V h.
00
1.V1..
8.V1.
Br.
Example 3-7c. Liszt, mm. 88-89.
te n .
31 The corresponding place in the Dresden version is found in mm. 87-88.
124
In the four measures preceding the entrance o f the Riotous Shout (theme 6), Liszt
reinterprets W agner’s orchestral trills, which are condensed into a left-hand thirty-
second-note tremolando figure (ex. 3-7c). The tenuto mark on the first chord indicates
that the pianist should give a little extra weight to the chord by “setting” it into the key
bed so that the sound has a chance to settle before the hand begins its rapid flutter. The
right-hand cadenza-like filigree passage alternates between a chordal outline and a
chromatic scale. The controlled chaos in these four measures has an intense fire that
erupts into the Riotous Shout (theme 6) in m. 89.
Liszt’s introductory passage is decidedly more volatile than M oszkow ski’s
ordered and controlled version. Although the temperaments are quite different, both
scores herald the arrival o f the Riotous Shout. As a result, the presentations o f this theme
are also different. M oszkow ski’s version is more exuberant and energetic, while Liszt’s
is rhythmically slower and more controlled. Both approaches convey a sense o f the
passage’s importance. M oszkowski places the compositional thrust in the thematic
material and uses the surrounding transitional music to help set up dramatically the
thematic arrival. Liszt’s thematic presentation is calmer and m ore rhythmically
controlled, while his surrounding transitional music evinces more compositional
creativity.
Like M oszkowski, Liszt also suggests W agner’s sixteenth-note string tremolo on
beats one and two o f theme 6 (ex. 3-7c). A broken sixteenth-note chordal figure
highlights the opening o f the theme with an accented six-note chord. Liszt, however,
then alters the rhythmic integrity o f the theme itself. Instead o f maintaining the
underlying sixteenth-note rhythmic structure, he shifts to a triplet pattern. This slower
125
rhythmic motion creates a more weighty and deliberate character. The left-hand’s
staccato marks infuse some energy, but the overall impression lacks the vibrant
exuberance found in M oszkow ski’s corresponding passage. Liszt may have felt
compelled to incorporate this rhythmic slowing as a way o f offering some contrast and
relief to both the preceding and following areas.
Conclusion
Liszt and Rubinstein strive to preserve the orchestral sound on the piano, but they
both make certain musical additions to enhance the piano’s orchestral qualities. The
instrumentation cues in the Rubinstein piano-vocal score stimulate the pianist’s musical
imagination in terms o f finding a palette o f orchestral colors on the piano. Although both
Liszt and Rubinstein are completely faithful to the thematic requirements, the technical
demands and challenges found in both o f these works require a pianist o f great skill and
technical finesse.
M oszkowski and Singer find an upper-middle ground o f transcribing that has
many benefits. Like Liszt and Rubinstein, Moszkowski and Singer do their utmost to
suggest a full range o f orchestral colors, texture, and articulations on the piano. In
particular, amongst all six scores examined, Moszkowski has taken the greatest pains to
find compositional techniques or musical terms that help to overcome translational
challenges and enhance the musical understanding.
32
The Riotous Shout (theme 6, Liszt, mm. 89-92) leads immediately into the passionate
left-hand chromatic scale o f the Passionate Yearning (theme 7) in m. 93 (cf. ex.3-5c)
above. Thus, both the preceding transitional cadenza-like section (mm. 85-88) and the
ardent presentation o f the Passionate Yearning (theme 7, mm. 93-96) contrast with the
slower, more deliberate, controlled rendition o f the Riotous Shout (theme 6).
126
Singer’s and M oszkowski’s respective efforts to excite the musical imagination
are also important. Singer accomplishes this by labeling key instrumentation parts and,
more importantly, in his realization o f the orchestral score for the piano. His textures
approximate an orchestral sound without trying identically to reproduce one.
Moszkowski is even more successful in this respect because o f his innovative
transcription techniques that recreate an orchestral palette for the piano by effectively and
practically adding connecting transitions, flourishes, changing articulation, inserting
special performance markings, and pedalings.
O f the six pieces examined for the present comparison, it is Liszt’s work,
however, that comes across as the most successful in terms o f writing with very thick and
full textures. Although Liszt’s flamboyant musical solutions are highly effective, only a
handful o f outstanding pianists can successfully navigate its many technical hurdles. By
remaining technically challenging without being so demanding that it remains out of
reach for most pianists, M oszkowski’s transcription is more forgiving as well as
musically satisfying.
The N uitter and Godowsky scores fill an important niche by providing music that
can appeal to a wide range o f talents and skills o f amateur musicians. The Rubinstein
and Liszt scores perform a different and equally important role by transforming an
orchestral genre into a pianistic medium, but with a high technical price for the textural
and musical replications. Singer and Moszkowski provide nearly the same orchestral
equivalents for piano as do Liszt and Rubinstein, but without such supreme technical
challenges.
127
CHAPTER 4
NACHKOM PONIERTE SZENE ZUR OPER TANNHAUSER:
TRANSCRIPTION ANALYSIS
Introduction
W hile the comparisons made in chapter three place M oszkow ski’s transcription
techniques within a general historical context, a fuller understanding o f M oszkow ski’s
transcription style comes from observing the specific musical similarities and differences
between the W agner and Moszkowski scores. Thus, chapter four will not only compare
the overall musical structures o f both works, but will examine the ways Moszkowski
takes an inherently orchestral technique and transforms it into a purely pianistic gesture.
Included among these musical conversions are M oszkowski’s use o f dynamic and
expression markings, musical texture together with articulation marks and musical
gestures, timbral effects, including the use o f musical terms such as vibrato, rhythmic
effects, as well as finding viable pianistic solutions to intrinsically orchestral idioms. In
addition, there will be a detailed comparison o f M oszkowski’s and W agner’s fourth and
fifth musical sections (as described below in Tables 4-1 and 4-2) and their transition into
M oszkowski’s original music for the concluding section (section VI). Such comparisons
and analyses open a window for understanding M oszkowski’s transcription technique,
providing a fundamental background for the subsequent analysis o f his other piano
transcriptions.
128
A Structural Analysis o f the Venusberg Scene
M oszkowski's piano transcription o f the Venusberg/Bacchanal Scene from
Tannhauser follows the design o f W agner’s Paris version closely and can be separated
into six sections that are distinguished by their use or non-use o f thematic material. As
already noted in chapter three, at the time o f Tannhauser’’s composition W agner’s
musical ideas had not yet coalesced into the leitmotiv approach and therefore m ay be
considered themes. Tables 4-1 and 4-2 show the thematic and non-thematic sections as
well as the placement o f themes in both M oszkowski’s Tannhauser transcription and
W agner’s Paris version.1
1 These themes are found in table 3-1 above.
Reproduced with permission o f the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
129
Table 4-1. Wagner’s Venusberg Scene - Paris Version
Section I Section II Section III Section IV Section V

Supplement I mm. 1-26* mm. 73-118 mm. 119-153 mm. 154-194 mm. 195-298
Supplement II mm. 1-72
Thematic Thematic Thematic Non-thematic Thematic

(transitional)
T hem es used: T hem es used: T hem es used: T hem es used: T h em es used:

Supplement I Theme 12b, m. 73 ff Theme 4, m. 119 ff Theme 8, m. 195 f f
Theme 6, m. 5 f f Theme 13, m. 77 ff Theme 6, m. 134 ff Theme 4, m. 197 ff
Theme 7, m. 9 f f Theme 7, m. 138 Theme 14a, m. 200 ff
Theme 8, m. 13 ff Theme 5, m. 146 ff Theme 14b, m. 203 ff
Theme 5, m. 15 ff fragments of: Theme 15, m. 210 ff
Supplement II Themes 4, 7, and Theme 16, m. 242 ff
Theme 4, m. 13 ff 13
Theme 12a, m. 26 f f Coda mm. 299-313
fragment o f Theme 4,
m. 299 f f
M ain K ev areas: M ain K ev areas: M ain K ev areas: M ain K ev areas:
E major (m. 1) V 7 o f D (m. 73) E major (from E -flat (m. 182) M ain K ev areas:
B major (m. 41) E major (m. 91) Section II) E-flat (from Section
K ey Sig. change, D major (m. 63) B pedal (m. 130) IV)
E major (m. 223)
Tempo Tempo C major (m. 273)
E major (m. 299)
Allegro M olto moderato (m.
182)
* See Chapter 3 for explanation
and use o f Supplements I and II in
W agner’s Paris version.
130
Table 4-2. Moszkowski’s Tannhauser Paraphrase
Section I Section II Section III Section IV Section V Section VI

[new]
mm. 1-101
mm. 102-147 mm. 148-182 mm. 183-223 mm. 224-324 mm. 325-361
Thematic Thematic Thematic Non-thematic Thematic Thematic

(transitional)
M oszkow ski’s M oszkow ski’s M oszkow ski’s original M oszkow ski’s

original music (mm. original music music (mm. 322-324) original music
1-3) (mm. 197-223) (mm. 325-361)
T hem es used: T hem es used: T hem es used: Them es used: Them es used:
Theme 6, m. 8 ff Theme 12b, m. 102 ff Theme 4, m. 148 ff Theme 15, m. 224 ff Theme 5, m. 325 ff
Theme 7, m. 12 ff Theme 13, m. 106 ff Theme 6, m. 163 ff Theme 8, m. 236 ff Theme 4, m. 333 ff
Theme 8, m. 16 ff Theme 5, m. 175 ff Theme 14a, m. 237 ff Violin theme
Theme 5, m. 18 ff fragments of: Theme 14b, m. 244 ff fragment o f 14a,
Theme 4, m. 42 ff Themes 4, 7, and 13 Theme 16, m. 253 ff m. 353 ff
Theme 12a, m. 65 ff
M ain K ey areas: M ain K ev areas: M ain Key areas: M ain Key areas: M ain Key areas: M ain K ey areas:
E major (m. 1) V 7 o f D (m. 102) E major (Ifom F" pedal (m. 195) Eb major (m. 224) E major (m. 325)
B major (m. 76) E major (m. 120) Section II) Key Sig. change - B major (m. 236)
Key Sig. change - B pedal (m. 159) C major, m. 203, Fs pedal (m. 253)
D major (m. 92) but underlying Key Sig. change - E major
harmony is D (m. 274)
Key Sig. change - C major
(mm. 286-311)
Key Sig. change - E major
(mm. 3 1 2 - 3 3 2 )
Tempo Tempo Tem po

Allegro M olto moderato (in. 224) Allegro (in. 325)
131
Moszkowski follows W agner’s thematic structure for the Venusberg scene
closely, with two notable exceptions. The first place where M oszkow ski’s original
material appears is in Section IV, at mm. 197-223.2 This compositional incursion occurs
during a developmental, non-thematic section and is significant because the distinction
between what is his and what belongs to W agner is deliberately blurred. Even the most
careful listener would be hard pressed to determine exactly where W agner ends and
Moszkowski begins. By choosing a non-thematic area, M oszkowski has greater
compositional flexibility and only has to approximate W agner's melodic style. Thus,
Moszkowski has fewer harmonic restrictions because he is not obliged to remain within
the harmonic structure o f a particular theme.
The musical structure o f W agner’s Venusberg/Bacchanal is complicated by the
absence o f strong cadential progressions. Although the piece moves through a wide
variety o f keys and key areas, none o f these is tonicized in a traditional way. The
boundaries o f sections are not always clear, therefore maximizing musical continuity. In
defining the different sections, several factors play a role: the use or absence o f thematic
material, large-scale key areas, and the use o f W agner’s stage instructions as an indicator
o f change.
As shown in table 4-1, W agner’s overall structure has five basic sections that
either contain identifiable thematic material or are free o f clear thematic material.
Section I is a thematic section that begins the musical depiction o f the seductions o f the
Venusberg. The opening musical material comes from the Paris version score,3 mm. 1-
2 Measure 197 in M oszkowski’s paraphrase corresponds to m. 168 in the W agner score.

3 All musical examples contained within this chapter are from the Paris version unless
otherwise stated. See Chapter 3 for comparison o f the Dresden and Paris versions.
Reproduced with permission o f the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
132
26, Supplement I.4 For the present analysis, the measure numbers in Supplement II are re
numbered to begin again with measure one. Five different themes are presented in
Section I. The first theme arrives just after a whirlwind introduction with the Riotous
Shout (theme 6, m. 5). This is immediately followed by the Passionate Yearning (theme
7, m. 9), the W ild Cry o f Delight (theme 8, m. 13), and Strains o f M addening Revelry
(theme 5, m. 15). The Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4) appears in m. 13 o f Supplement II,
and is followed by the Intoxicated Gestures (theme 12a) in m. 26.
At the beginning o f Section II (m. 73) W agner’s stage instructions indicate that
the Bacchantes are prey to a growing delirium.5 The music becomes more frenzied and
wilder. This section begins with the Intoxicated Gestures (theme 12b, m. 73) and
concentrates on the seductive Senses Mastering Spell (theme 13, m. 77), w hich is
repeated five times in this short forty-three-measure section.
Section III is another multi-thematic area that begins in m. 117. At this moment
the Satyrs and Fauns surge from the jagged edges o f the grotto and blend in w ith the
dances o f the Bacchantes and lovers.6 The Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4, m. 119), the
Riotous Shout (theme 6, m. 134), the Passionate Yearning (theme 7, m. 138), and the
Strains o f M addening Revelry (theme 5, m. 146) all make appearances during this thirty-
four-measure section. In addition to these complete thematic presentations, subsequent
fragments o f the Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4), the Passionate Yearning (theme 7), and
the Senses M astering Spell (theme 13) are also scattered throughout this section.
4 The score used for this analysis is: Richard Wagner, Tannhauser und der Sangerkrieg
a u f Wartburg {London: Ernst Eulenberg, [1929]).
5“Les Bacchantes sont en proie a une delire croissant.”
6 According to the French stage instructions: “Des Satyres et des Faunes surgissent des
anffactuosites de la grotte, ils se melent a la danse des Bacchantes et des couples
amoureux.”
133
Sections TV and V have a more ambiguous structure. If only harmonic structure
is used as a defining guideline, then Section IV would logically run from m. 152 to m.
181 because no thematic material is found in these thirty measures, nor do any significant
key and tempo changes occur before m. 182. This does not provide a complete
description, however, because it does not take into account the upcoming thematic return
and tempo change. Although key and tempo changes could delineate a section at m. 182,
the non-thematic music continues for another twelve measures until m. 195. It is at this
point that the thematic material returns, and the mood change, indicated by the molto
moderato marking in m. 182, is finally realized. Thus, if the absence o f thematic material
becomes a defining marker, a more sensible interpretation o f Section IV includes m. 152
through m. 194. Section V (mm. 195-298) is then comprised o f entirely thematic
material followed b y a fourteen-measure coda (mm. 299-313).
It is within these two ambiguous quasi-developmental sections that Moszkowski
presents a major digression from W agner’s score by making a large cut (mm. 170-210).
By doing so M oszkowski removes the thematic presentations o f the W ild Cry o f Delight
(theme 8, m. 195), the Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4, m. 197), and the Decoy-call (theme
14a, rn. 200; 14b, m. 203).7 He also eliminates the long transitional passage that W agner
uses to quiet the passions of the revelers and delays the placement o f the E-flat key
change. As a result o f this cut M oszkowski’s sections are more clearly defined. The
non-thematic material found in Moszkowski (mm. 183-223) becomes Section IV, and the
thematic material that begins w ith the Theme o f Peace (theme 15) in the new key o f E-
flat (mm. 224-324) is Section V.
7 Although themes 8,14a, and 14b are heard in M oszkowski’s Section V, they occur at a
later musical place and do not correspond with the above-mentioned occurrences.
134
M oszkowski's Transcription Technique fo r the Venusberg
Composers transcribing music from an orchestral score to a solo keyboard
instrument face a variety o f obstacles. These challenges include translating dynamic
range, orchestral gestures, timbres, textures, articulation, and combinations o f these
elements into meaningful piano music. Moszkowski faces an additional challenge in this
work and his Isoldens Tod: Schluss-Szene from W agner’s Tristan und Isolde. To begin
with, W agner’s orchestration reached enormous proportions for music at that time with
regard to both the number o f instruments and the volume o f sound required. Despite the
great advances made to the piano, it must have been daunting for Moszkowski to
transcribe works o f such sheer quantity o f instruments and volume o f sound. He
persevered, however, and created clever solutions, as the following discussion o f
M oszkowski’s transcription technique will show.
Dynamic and Expression Markings
One o f the most significant challenges in creating a transcription o f the Venusberg
scene involves dynamic and expression markings. Moszkowski uses descriptive words to
convey a greater depth o f information to the performer than can be indicated by simple
dynamic markings. M any of the terms he chooses go beyond ordinary m ood enhancers.
While W agner merely indicates the dynamic marking, Moszkowski elucidates the
underlying meaning with an expressive term. Some examples from the Tannhauser
transcription are seen in Table 4-3.
135
Table 4-3. Tannhauser: Dynamic and Expressive Markings
W agner Moszkowski
ff m. 7 6 8 appassionato (w ith ^ in d icated in m 102)
m. 106
ff m. 103 con somma passione m. 132
ff&fz m. 113 feroce m. 142
fff m. 146 f f f & strepitoso m. 175
no indications m. 167 con bravura
i f f is indicated in m. 195) m. 196
< > markings m. 233 cantabile m. 246
dolcissimo m. 242 amoroso m. 255
sehr zart m. 253 soavemente m. 266
This kind o f additional descriptive commentary allows the perform er to delve for
a deeper meaning in a score. Although Moszkowski omits W agner’s stage instructions,
he compensates for the lack o f visual or emotional content w ith these additional
expressive marks, thus enhancing a performance through such descriptive terms.
g
If there is no dynamic marking listed here, then none immediately precedes the example
in the score.
136
During the Bacchantes’ arrival for a wild orgy,9 the orchestral dynamics remain
mostly piano (m. 23). As the Fauns and Satyrs assemble and the dancing becomes more
savage and violent, W agner indicates piu f and f f in selected orchestral parts (m. 63). The
general uproar is heightened to ^ th ro u g h o u t the orchestra as the Bacchantes become prey
to their desires (m. 75), and the Satyrs and Fauns surge from the jagged edges o f the
grotto to interrupt the dances o f the Bacchantes and lovers (m. 125). The f f is punctuated
with f z markings around m. 113. Just before the orgy reaches a new zenith, a sudden
dynamic drop to p occurs, followed by a forward surge o f molto crescendo and piu fo rte
that arrives at f f f in m. 145. At this moment the three Graces becom e aware o f the orgy
and are alarmed. This is one o f the dynamic peaks o f the scene, w ith ^ th r o u g h o u t the
orchestra. Although the Graces attempt to disperse the groups, the dynamic level does
not drop beneath a f f Even at m. 170, when the groups begin to settle into a sweet
apathy10 in front o f the Graces, the dynamics peak again at fff. It is not until the key
change to E-flat (m. 182) that a sustained diminuendo takes place. From this point
onwards the dynamic shape has a more restrained consistency as the w ildly bombastic
and frenzied abandonment o f the Bacchanal orgy begins to subside.
Example 4 -la-b illustrates one o f the first dynamic considerations M oszkowski
faces. The main melodic figure is scored for doubled flutes, oboe, violin 1 and 2, and
viola. The second violins and violas have a sixteenth-note rhythmic pattern similar to
that o f the flutes and first violins; however, their notes support the harmonic texture. The
remaining w inds11 lend further strength to the harmonies o f the second violins and violas
9 “Une orgie sauvage.”

10 “Un douceur langueur.”
11 The remaining winds are comprised o f clarinets, bassoons, horns, and trumpets in E.
137
with half-note chords in thirds. The cello section holds onto the first quarter note and
then struggles upwards against the melodic cascade for two beats before it is thrust
downwards for the remainder o f the m easure.12 Throughout this passage the orchestra is
marked f f
Example 4 -la . W agner, m. 36.
ff
Ob.
Kl.
H r.
<£>
V i.<
Br.
Ve.
12 Although the double bass has a low C doubling the cellos, its part is does not have any
melodic function, instead providing harmonic support.
138
Example 4 -lb . M oszkowski, m. 65.
I-®-
Moszkowski captures the timbral drama but balances the dynamic and notational
demands with the relative limitations o f the pianoforte. Although the first violin and
doubled-flute figure is preserved, a single line o f sixteenth notes cannot compete against
the dense texture o f several orchestral sections. Moszkowski, therefore writes a four-note
chord spanning a tenth that consists o f the second violin and viola harmonic outline. This
chord conveys the strength o ff f b y virtue o f its size and is further supported by the left-
hand cello-line interpolation. Moszkowski re-scores the cello quarter note on beat one
(C2) because the note decay would prevent an increase in so u n d .13 Thus by writing
continuous sixteenth notes throughout the first two beats, the feeling o f the f f volume is
maintained. In addition, Moszkowski exploits the contrasting direction o f the upper and
lower voices. The cello line is embedded in the orchestration and obscured. In
M oszkowski’s arrangement the contrasting motion o f the cello line is highlighted by the
left-hand’s upward sweeping gesture. His setting highlights both the orchestral and
thematic gestures as well as the dynamic prolongation without requiring a multitude of
simultaneous notes.
13 Following the Acoustical Society o f America (ASA) standard, middle C is equivalent

to C4.
139
Example 4-2 a. W agner, m. 77.
a p p a s s io n a to ' ■;
140
In his search for dynamic prolongation, M oszkowski often combines texture and
gesture; example 4-2a-b illustrates this "filling-in" technique. W agner w r ite s ^
throughout the orchestra. The doubled clarinets, oboes, flutes, and first violins have the
Senses M astering Spell (theme 13) in unison, while the rest o f the orchestra has either
tremolo, rolled, or held whole notes. The melodic rhythm o f m. 77 shows a dotted half
note followed by a quarter note. W agner scores the timpani part w ith a roll that exhibits
the underlying energy and prevents any unintentional note decay.
M oszkowski’s eagerness to exhibit the intent and energy behind the Senses
Mastering Spell is evident. Although W agner’s stage directions are not included,
Moszkowski marks this passage appassionato. This conveys the subtext and emotional
undercurrent o f the theme. The appassionato also indicates the passage be played with
great thrust and abandonment; this is further enhanced b y the five-and-a-half octave
virtuosic sweep. This passionate mini-cadenza serves several simultaneous purposes.
W agner’s harmony is realized, the appassionato feeling is conveyed by the dramatic
flourish, and by combining these two aspects, a forward-moving dynamic volume is
produced that simulates the tremolo effect in W agner's orchestration. Furthermore, the
held dotted half notes o f the winds and brass are disguised as Moszkowski effectively
uses this sweeping gesture to both fill out the harmonic structure and intensify the
musical drama.
U :.
cu.
..
Example 4-3a. Wagner, mm. 109-114.
3m> ii
151 ! *
23
142
Example 4-3b. Moszkowski, m. 140-43.
v' r
sa. %
Jtroce
Another example o f overcoming keyboard limitations is shown in example 4-3a-
b. W agner uses repeated f z markings on the strong beats o f the Intoxicated Gestures
(theme 12a, mm. 113-14) and a subsequent triplet buildup (mm. 115-16) to strengthen the
entrance of the Fauns and Satyrs (mm. 109-112; ex. 4-3a). Prior to their entrance,
Wagner writes a pulsing, descending repeated triplet figure in the second violins and
violas that moves down by half step and then back up again every two beats. This
driving figure is augmented by an offbeat half-note octave figure in the first violins and
upper winds. The pulsing lower string triplets sound as though they are rebounding off
the upper wind and violin figures. The combination o f these two forces propels the music
with a greater energy than before.
The double bass also augments the energy at this point. Previously the double-
bass part played various types o f regular quarter-note rhythmic patterns. Suddenly its
rhythm changes at the piu fo rte (m. 111) to sextuplet staccato quarter notes that propel the
motion even more strongly towards the f f arrival o f m. 113.
143
Although W agner's orchestration creates a compelling musical statement,
Moszkowski finds an equally interesting pianistic solution in m. 142 (Wagner, m. 113)
that Moszkowski marks feroce (ex. 4-3b). The downbeat o f W agner’s m. 113 functions
as a preparation for the more important arrival that occurs four measures later in m. 117
when the Fauns and Satyrs emerge and disrupt the dances o f the Bacchantes and the
amorous couples.14 Moszkowski retains the offbeat octave m elody o f the first violins and
high winds in the upper part o f the piano right hand (mm. 140-141). M oszkow ski’s
challenge is to integrate the pulsating triplet rhythm o f the lower strings and double-bass
line. He retains some o f the string octave doublings o f the triplet figure by dividing it
between the hands. The bass note o f the left hand on the first triplet o f the beat is scored
for the lower octave (F-sharp 4) while the right hand plays the F-sharp 5 on the third note
o f each triplet. W hen performed at tempo the illusion o f a true octave doubling in each
complete triplet figure is created. This figure is repeated so rapidly that the ear assumes
the presence o f the remaining octave doublings.
The one remaining orchestral element to be incorporated is the hemiola created by
the double-bass rhythmic figure. Although it is technically possible to play the bass
pattern, W agner’s intention o f creating an impelling drive toward the downbeat in m. 113
(Moszkowski, m. 142) is not realized. Moszkowski gives an approximation o f W agner’s
sextuplet figure by allowing the left-hand bass notes to bounce o ff each other (mm. MO-
141). The G-sharp 3s act in concert with the F-sharp 4s. While this rhythmic stress does
not accurately divide the twelve eighth-note triplets into six duplets, it creates its own
14 "Des couples amoureux.”
144
forward motion by forcing the third note in each group o f triplets to spring energetically
toward the next triplet.
The rhythmic combination produced by M oszkowski's reduction gives a feeling
o f urgency and drive. The keyboard range utilized has enough resonance that additional
crescendos are not required to maintain the dynamic level. M oszkowski conserves the
dynamic resources and saves something special for the entrance o f the Satyrs and Fauns
at the feroce in m. 142. By maintaining a fairly open spacing between the notes and
indicating a judicious use o f pedal, Moszkowski capitalizes on the natural reverberation
and resonance o f the piano.
M oszkowski omits W agner’s piu fo rte and f z markings entirely and replaces them
with regular accent marks (>) on the first and third beats o f the m easure (mm. 142-43).
By labeling the downbeat o f m. 142 feroce, he encourages the perform er to use a more
articulated, biting fmger-stroke. Even in the absence o f a large orchestral resource,
M oszkowski highlights the importance o f this moment without forcing the performer to
peak dynamically too early in the piece.
At the same time Moszkowski so judiciously delays the dynamic peak, there is
one moment where he has not been precise enough in his markings (ex. 4-4b). Following
the arrival o f the Satyrs and Fauns, there is a two-measure descending pattern that
W agner marks f z on beats one and three (mm. 113-14). This same pattern recurs a half
step lower with the addition o f a f f two measures later and is scored with th e/z markings
(mm. 117-18; ex. 4-4a).
145
Example 4-4a. W agner, mm. 117-19.
Ob.
Kl.
Hr.
(E)
Trp.
(E)
Pus.
Btb.
Pk.
ffr
J {sur U theatre) i . v m j x j y
fS a ty re und Faune sm d aus den K luften erschienen nnd d ra n y e n sioh
' Des S a ty y e s e t des F a n n es su rg isse n t d es a n fr a c tu o s ite s d e la g ra tte , i l s se
motto state.
Br.
Vc.
Kb.
p izz.
146
Example 4-4b. M oszkowski, mm. 146-48.
Wagner wants a big surprise at the beginning o f m. 119. After the preceding
dynamically loud and heavily accented music, he indicates a sudden dynamic drop to p
with pizzicato in the double bass and molto staccato throughout the rest o f the orchestra
as the castanet begins to play (m. 119). This dramatic dynamic change heralds the first
return o f the Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4). Wagner lowers the dynamics to a quiet
level in anticipation o f another increase o f tension, drama, and passion. W hat is clever
about this dynamic marking is that by indicating in addition to the f z markings (mm.
117-18) he prevents any dynamic weakening or decrescendo, thus augmenting the impact
o f the subito piano (m. 119).
Moszkowski has been very careful in his dynamic translations but may have
overlooked this moment. Although he continues to indicate the f z mark w ith an accent
(>) on beats one and three (mm. 142-43, ex. 4-3b; and mm. 146-47, ex. 4-4b), there are
no other dynamic instructions until the piano in m. 148. This could potentially mislead a
pianist who has not carefully consulted the original opera score. The absence o f any
additional markings, such as sempre feroce or sempre ff, could result in an unintended
diminuendo from m. 146 to th e p in m. 148. A diminuendo could easily be inferred given
the general descending note contour, the half step lowering o f the melodic figure (m.
147
142),15 and the upcoming piano. In addition, because the first passage (mm. 142-43) is
marked feroce and the repetition (mm. 146-47) has no additional markings, a performer
might assume that the repetition should be played more softly and used as a dynamic
bridge to the next thematic entrance marked piano. The previous dynamic marking given
in M oszkowski’s score iff) appears in m. 102, nearly forty measures earlier. The
performer needs an indication that this repeated phrase should be played with more
strength to produce a greater contrast with the upcoming piano thematic material. This
type o f omission is very uncharacteristic for Moszkowski. Perhaps this is an editorial
oversight or musical assumption on his part. Either way, no clear indication to the
performer as to the dynamic intentions has been given.
In general, M oszkowski’s strategic dynamic and expression marks translate the
emotional and physical activities visually evident in a live opera production into a viable
pianistic medium. These are not the only tools that Moszkowski uses, however, to
enhance the translation o f W agner’s orchestral music for the piano; texture and timbre
also play a vital role.
Texture
In the art o f transcription, texture must also include articulation and gesture.
Moszkowski skillfully uses all o f these aspects. One o f the first examples o f gesture
occurs in ex. 4-5a-b.
15 The melodic figure in m. 142 begins with an A sharp and in m. 146 moves down a half
step to an A natural.
Example 4-5a. W agner, Supplement I, mm. 4-5.
... ■■■ - _ ..............- ...
GU1* **
J p
—
===
*--------------------- fh„ .
— —— - —
p
zn
3* 2
H fc=*=fc---.--------- —
— ==
.
ilDi
1.2.
# = ^ = ----- -- —
....... — -=^=1
t i l
iW Bw~~ r o t lade
|- u
I
p
^ f ff>
p
) ------- --
t~ y
----- I f c t o a l

rxiv
$a.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission
149
During the opening four measures o f the Paris version the string instruments have
thirty-second-note tremolos. The fourth beat o f each o f the opening four measures have
the thirty-second notes written out while the final beat in each measure contains a little
connecting, rising passing-tone figure that smoothly joins the measures together. The
natural running flow o f this introductory figure is compounded in m. 5, Supplement I,
with the arrival o f The Riotous Shout (theme 6; ex. 4-5a). Although marked piano, there
is a downbeat accent and a thirty-second-note tremolo on the double-dotted first note,
creating a vivid entrance for the theme. Moszkowski recognized the importance o f this
first thematic entrance and planned his entire introduction around it.
M oszkow ski’s introduction is nearly twice as long as W agner’s; these additional
three m easures (mm. 1-3) serve a dual purpose. By slowing down the rhythmic
figuration from thirty-second notes to sixteenth notes and opening with the neighbor
figure that starts two octaves lower, Moszkowski augments and extends the expectation
of the thematic arrival. The extended introduction’s second function dramatizes the
theme itself by translating a single-note tremolo into practical pianistic terms.
The excitement and energetic feeling o f W agner’s string orchestration is not
readily accommodated on the piano (m. 5, Supplement I; ex. 4-5a). W hile it would be
technically feasible to play the opening introduction with thirty-second notes, it would be
virtually impossible to maintain the same figuration in m. 8. The repeated action on the
piano cannot accomplish such a rapid single-note repetition, and the result would sound
harsh and grating. On the other hand, if Moszkowski had opted to write a broken-chord
tremolo simulating the orchestral part, the result would be amateurish and unrefined.
Instead, Moszkowski offers a brilliant solution for m. 8. In the space between beat one
150
and the final sixteenth note o f beat two, he writes a sweeping sextuplet sixteenth-note
scale. This gesture mimics the rhythmic intention behind W agner’s string tremolo but
places it into a beautiful pianistic motion so the energy and excitement are retained. This
solution could not have been as successful if Moszkowski had not slowed down the
introductory rhythmic figure to sixteenth notes. By doing so, he has given more direction
and upward flow to this scale gesture, saving the velocity for the important thematic
music that follows.
Not only does this example highlight M oszkowski’s transcribing techniques, but
it demonstrates his thoughtfulness regarding texture. If he had m erely wanted to
reproduce the notes with some semblance o f resonating sound, Moszkowski could have
used a broken-chord tremolo figure. Instead, by combining both the initial chord on beat
one and the sweeping scale gesture with the pedal, he creates a sense o f continuous sound
much like that produced by string players. Furthermore, by having only one large initial
chord followed by individual scale notes, he limits the overall dynamic volume. The
broken-tremolo chord option might have been too loud for a passage marked mezzo
piano. Instead, by playing a scale, the performer uses a finger attack that keeps the
dynamics soft but still conveys a light sweeping sharpness in the sound.
Another example o f how Moszkowski translates W agner’s orchestral texture to
maintain the intent and gesture o f a passage is found in example 4-6a-b. At this moment
in the staging the Bacchantes invade the scene. Their arrival is signified by a very fast,
staccato string passage (ex. 4-6a). The violins are in unison w ith the violas and celli an
octave lower. All the strings have the sam e^descending four sixteenth-note sequence
that follows a step-wise rising pattern.
151
Example 4-6a. W agner, string parts only, mm. 28-29.
/I ii 0 m a rtella to
M oszkowski could have easily transcribed this passage in staccato octaves, with
the right hand taking over the violin line and the left hand covering the remaining string
parts. Recognizing the potential technical drawback,16 however, Moszkowski found a
different solution. The two most important aspects to this passage are the articulation and
an awareness o f the rising sequence. This sequence m usically depicts the Bacchantes
swarming onto the stage, while the articulation adds definition to their body language.
16 One possible pianistic interpretation might be to play this passage legato, or at least
without a very crisp staccato, because the groups o f sixteenth notes are descending and
the tempo is quite fast. This interpretation would obscure the highly articulated entrance.
152
M oszkowski cleverly divides each four-note sequence evenly between the hands.
The first and third sixteenth notes are played by the right hand, while the second and
fourth are played by the left hand. W ithin the right-hand notes the first sixteenth note is
an octave, while the third sixteenth note is merely unison. The left hand follows this
pattern in reverse. The first left-hand note (second sixteenth note) dovetails with the right
hand by playing a single sixteenth note, while the second left-hand note (fourth sixteenth
note) plays an octave. In essence, the first and fourth notes are played in octaves, while
the interior notes are unisons. The effect brings out the first and last notes o f the
sequential pattern, w hile the listener takes for granted the octave presence o f the second
and third sixteenth notes. This is very similar to m. 140 where M oszkowski tricks the ear
into presupposing octave doublings that are not present.
B y having the hands alternate each note, the likelihood o f any legato connection is
obliterated; this is further highlighted by M oszkowski’s indicated fingering. The interior
second and third sixteenth notes are fingered with the second fingers o f the left and right
hands. The choice o f the second finger is practical in several ways. It contributes to the
overall flexibility and technical ease o f performance and allows for a very strong,
articulated attack .17 M oszkowski emphasizes this point by indicating martellato instead
of W agner’s staccato. The difference between these two terms lies in their attack on the
key. W hile staccato means short, martellato in piano playing m eans ham m ered.18 This is
a crucial point, because playing staccato on a string instrument can be m uch easier than
17 Because the hands are m irror images o f each other, the second finger in both hands can
easily cross over the thumb. This allows the right hand to reach below the thumb, while
the left hand reaches above the thumb. In this way, the second fingers can easily grab the
interior second and third sixteenth notes in each beat.
18The New Harvard Dictionary o f Music, 470.
153
on a piano. A string player has the flexibility o f changing the bow with each note and
thereby producing a highly articulated sound. A pianist m ust work much harder to
achieve the same goal. Thus, by alternating the hands, placing the octaves on the outer
notes of each sequential figure, providing a strongly articulated fingering, instructing the
performer to use a “hammered” attack, and eliminating any use o f the pedal, Moszkowski
creates a spirited passage with impressive technical flexibility. In this way he
simultaneously respects W agner’s intentions and transforms them into a very pianistic
gesture.
M oszkowski carefully appraises each situation individually and does not always
interpret staccato in such a highly articulated manner. A different textural change can be
found in example 4-7a-b. Again W agner gives the strings a staccato figure in octaves
(ex. 4-7a). The rem ainder o f the orchestra is scored with f f -tied whole notes on a C sharp
diminished seventh chord over a pedal tone on A. Moszkowski recognizes that the
staccato triplet figure is used to fuel the driving fire o f the Bacchantes’ desire, rather than
as a depiction o f a specific action or motion, and concentrates his efforts on emulating the
drive and passion o f the moment, rather than the articulation. He indicates non-legato at
the outset o f this triplet figure in m. 107 and omits any further pedal markings for these
two measures.
154
Ob.
a
K3.
Hr.
OB)
Pos.
Bib.
PV.
VI.
Br.
Vc.
K b.
v c tr
■vv~u.-w...
....
155
In example 4-6a-b Moszkowski excludes the wind parts; however, in example 4-
7a-b, he incorporates them (mm. 108-09). Although the octave string parts have a lot o f
energy and drive built into them, they have little substance or texture. Instead, this is
provided by the sustained f f wind parts. In example 4-7b M oszkowski combines the wind
parts with the string triplet figures. In this way he provides a driving energy with
substance and texture that supports a strong dynamic level without becoming
overwhelmed. M oszkowski integrates the tied whole notes (C sharp, B-flat and G; ex. 4-
7b) as a second voice in thirds, fifths, and sixths below the melodic line. This fills out the
texture and maintains the melodic integrity o f the figure; it also allows for a crescendo
into the next measure (m. 110). By re-working the wind parts, M oszkowski modifies
W agner’s original texture and harmony while successfully capturing the original spirit.
Timbre
Moszkowski occasionally reproduces certain orchestral effects on the piano. One
such timbral result occurs in example 4-8a-b, during the Bacchanalian Dance theme
fragment. The second violin, cello, and double bass have pizzicato indications, while the
rest of the orchestra plays molto staccato. Only the first violin and viola are marked
arco. Moszkowski must approximate the timbres o f the repeated eighths o f the wind
parts, the arco (but still heavily articulated) first violin and viola parts, and the remaining
staccato string parts. He incorporates the first violin’s grace note figure on beat 1 into
the piano part (albeit from a h alf step below instead o f above the G sharp; ex. 4-8b) but
not the two additional sixteenth-note after-beat figures. Instead Moszkowski
concentrates on bringing out the thematic material in the viola and cello parts. He then
156
incorporates pitches from other instrumental parts into the left-hand harmonization o f the
thematic material. The right hand is similarly harmonized, using notes found in the wind
parts. The last three right-hand melodic notes correspond to the cello line, while the first
three melodic notes are derived from the second violin part’s triple stops. The entire two-
measure passage is marked w ith staccato dots (with the exception o f the first note o f each
measure, which is a double-stemmed quarter/eighth note).
Ob. Ob.
Kl.
Kl.
(A)
(A)
Hr.
Hr. CE)
<E)
Bib.
Bib.
Pk.
Cast.
Ca&t. jm nm um m n
VI. VI.
Br.
Vc. Vc.
Kb. Kb.
157
Si to
j ,*>4— ft*— v- Ji«r........« -
f I.U •
r ^«• y . - . r ^ .
‘t o . ¥
Despite these seemingly disparate timbres, M oszkowski’s combination o f
articulation, chordal structure, and pedal creates an equitable solution. Part o f the
difficulty occurs because although the cello and viola parts have the same notes, one part
is marked pizzicato while the other is not. Moszkowski uses a combination o f staccato
with a touch o f pedal on the first three left-hand eighth notes. The jum ping right-hand
chords have an inherent quickness because the hand must release each chord with enough
attack and motion to arrive at the next chord in time. The combination o f the staccato
marking, a fairly sharp, articulated attack on the chords in both hands, and the judicious
pedal indications creates a multi-textured passage. Even in W agner’s orchestration none
o f the individual effects, such as the molto staccato mark, the pizzicato mark, or the held
wind parts, has an overwhelming presence. It is the effect o f the combined forces that is
experienced by the listener. Although Moszkowski cannot precisely mimic these
qualities, the various layers built into the piano part combine together to form a new
timbral quality.
The Sirens’ Choir (theme 14a), which appears five times in Sections V and VI,
also exhibits M oszkow ski’s careful textural and timbral considerations.19 The first four o f
19 M oszkowski, mm. 237-239,241-243; 287-289, 291-293, 353-356.
158
these occurrences happen in both Moszkowski and Wagner, but the final appearance in
Section VI is purely M oszkowski’s own idea.
The invisible Sirens are heard calling from offstage. It is the only time in this
entire scene that any text is sung:
Naht euch dem Strande. Naht euch dem Lande,

wo in den Armen gliihender Liebe suss Erwarmen still ’ eure Triebe!
Approach the shore. Approach the land,

where, in the arms o f burning love, the sweet warm ing quenches your
desire!20
Wagner carefully presents this theme in a very simple and straightforward form
(ex. 4-9a). In all four occurrences the choir is heard alone with no orchestral
embellishments.21 Moszkowski suggests this pure choir sound by dividing the piano score
into two complete grand staves. The actual choir part is placed in the lower grand staff
with a brief moment o f rising pianistic filigree superimposed above. Moszkowski must
sustain the sound while the choir holds its long chord on Strande and Lande. Following
his earlier examples o f filling-in long-held orchestral notes, Moszkowski writes a broken-
chord figure that reiterates the held harmony (ex. 4-9b). In a footnote in the score
Moszkowski artfully directs the performer to silently re-strike the choir’s held chord so as
to give the effect o f the first soprano’s descent to C sharp.
7 0
Translation furnished by Lisa Albrecht.
21 Although the harp is heard on beat two, the viola doubles the second-soprano line an
octave lower, and the cello and double bass play through the measure, these notes merely
support the choral part without drawing attention away from the choir. The orchestral
exception occurs with a lone D sharp in the violin part (m. 224, ex. 4-9a) that segues into
the third horn pedal on concert B.
159
Ob.
Kl-
Hr.'
Hrf.<
(im Orchester)
(a I'orchestre)
Hr.
VI.
Br.
Sirenes Nahteuchdem Stran - . de!

$ur cct - te pla - - g e,
Vc.
Kb.
160
r it.
61
W hat adds to the timbral aspect o f this fleeting moment is the choice o f notes, the
dynamic marking, and the performance instructions. M oszkowski adds [!] ppp, the
softest dynamic marking found in the entire work. He also directs the perform er to play
the passage velocissimo. This is further enhanced by the speed o f the notes themselves
(sixteenths in the left hand with thirty-second notes in the right hand). When combined
with the use o f the high register and the resonating effect o f the held pedal, the sound has
a silvery, gossamer-like, almost magical quality. The textural filling-in takes a secondary
role to the timbral sound quality. This enchanting moment highlights the mystical quality
o f the Sirens w hile prolonging the harmonic resonance.
M oszkowski m ust have enjoyed this effect because he reiterates it during the final
nine measures o f the transcription, in m. 356 (ex. 4-17b). He not only indicates Con
liberta for that entire passage, but vibrato for the held Siren chord. The use o f the term
vibrato is unusual in a keyboard work.22 Both Liszt and M oszkowski use this term to
22
See ex. 6-1 and Chapter 6 for a more thorough discussion o f the term vibrato in piano
literature.
161
increase the energy and intensity o f a passage. To further prolong this moment,
Moszkowski changes the meter from 4/4 to 3/2. This effectively increases the length of
the measure and allows Moszkowski to exploit a six-octave range. In example 9-b he
uses only a four-and-a-half octave range.
Rhythm
There are several places where Moszkowski makes minor rhythmic alterations.
Sometimes these changes are for technical or textural accommodations, other times the
reasons are less clear. The following section highlights some o f the more significant
rhythmic discrepancies.
Example 4-10a. W agner, 1st violin part, mm. 73-76.
■f. f i f e
Example 4-1 Ob. Moszkowski, right hand, mm. 102-05.
•I i., f s s is a fr y
l. •?. : 1 i ....._ .il_ , [..........3_.......
In example 4 -10a the first violins present transformations o f the Intoxicated
Gestures theme (theme 12b), starting with a running sextuplet sixteenth-note figure on
the second beats o f mm. 73-74. This shifts in mm. 75 and 76 to a seven-note figure
162
consisting of three sixteenth-note triplets followed by four thirty-second notes. The
intensity o f this waterfall-like figure is doubled in mm. 75-76 (ex. 4 -10a) in anticipation
of the Senses’ M astering Spell (theme 13, mm. 77-78) as W agner’s stage directions
indicate a heightening o f emotional frenzy.23 The collective sweep o f these four
measures grows dramatically, as the notes o f the cascading figure increase in speed and
the repetition o f the cascade compresses to occur twice per measure.
There is no technical reason that M oszkowski should not have transcribed the
violin part as is into the piano right hand. Like Wagner, Moszkowski wants to make a
strong impact with the upcoming arrival o f the Senses Mastering Spell theme.
M oszkowski uses these four measures (mm. 102-05; ex. 4 -10b) to prepare for this
passionate thematic arrival, and overcomes the orchestration issues o f the Senses’
Mastering Spell (ex. 4-2a-b) with an impassioned rhythmic sweep. In order for this
thematic entrance to be successful the previous four preparatory measures should not
compete for rhythmic attention, as they do in W agner’s score. Moszkowski therefore
moderates the rhythmic cascade in the piano right hand. At the same time, however,
Moszkowski maintains a mild feeling o f accelerando. His solution for melding these
seemingly disparate goals is subtly clever.
In mm. 102-03 Moszkowski indicates that beat two should be subdivided into two
sets o f triplet sixteenth notes. This notation serves to divide the beat precisely, which at
first glance looks almost identical to W agner’s violin part. A closer observation reveals
that there are two key differences. M oszkowski’s beat one chord is tied to the first o f the
sixteenth notes. This means that the scale no longer has six articulated pitches. As a
23 This is equivalent to M oszkowski’s mm. 106-07.
163
result, W agner’s fifth sixteenth note (an F sharp) is omitted from M oszkow ski’s score,
thus the total number o f articulated pitches is only five. The overall impression o f the
two cascades, W agner and M oszkow ski’s, remains the same because they pass by so
quickly and the absence o f one passing tone is not really noted. The effect, however, is
quite different. By avoiding a rhythmic re-articulation directly on beat two
M oszkowski’s cascade is more flowing and relaxed. The rhythmic illusion continues in
mm. 104-05. Instead o f writing a seven-note figure on beats one and three, Moszkowski
writes an evenly divided quintuplet.24 Even though the quintuplet figure is metrically
slower than the preceding sextuplet, it has a greater intensity because the peak o f the
figure occurs on the strong beats. In mm. 102-03 the cascade has a strong beginning, by
virtue o f the length o f the tied quarter note, and a strong arrival on beat three. The
cascade itself acts more like a slide between the two strong beats o f the measure.
Because the cascade occurs on the metrical strong beats in mm. 104-05 it becomes both
the rhythmic and musical peak o f the passage and thus achieves a stronger intensity
without having to be rhythmically faster. Taking into consideration the increasing
harmonic rhythm [note faster pedaling] and “slower” starting sound, the following two
measures need only to appear relatively faster. By moderating the rhythm ic gesture,
Moszkowski saves the real impact for the entrance o f the Senses’ M astering Spell (theme
13, m. 106).
One other interesting feature o f mm. 104-05 is the rhythmic notation o f beats two
and four. W agner very clearly writes a triplet on beats two and four in the second violin
24 The reason that the earlier sextuplet figure was superfluously bracketed into two
groups o f three (m. 102) was probably to clarify that this quintuplet should not be played
in uneven groups o f two and three but as a set o f five evenly spaced sixteenth notes.
164
and cello parts, and a dotted eighth note followed by a sixteenth note on the same beats in
the first violin part. Moszkowski rewrites these beats so that both musical lines are in
triplets. He further emphasizes the point by bracketing both hands with a triplet
indication. This clearly marked triplet figure is just another way o f slowing down the
basic flow o f the notes.
W hen the Senses’ Mastering Spell (theme 13) makes a second appearance in m.
95 (M oszkowski, m. 124), Moszkowski takes a very similar, though less drastic,
approach. This time in the preceding six measures Moszkowski maintains the same
rhythmic figure but alters the division (Wagner, mm. 89-94; Moszkowski, mm. 118-23).
W hen W agner indicates the violin’s quintuplet figure, it is subdivided into a group o f two
sixteenth notes, followed by a triplet group o f three sixteenth notes. Similarly, in the
septuplet grouping (Wagner, mm. 93-94), the figure is divided into one triplet o f
sixteenth notes, followed by four thirty-second-notes. This kind o f notation creates a
natural accelerando towards the next beat. As in example 4-10a-b, M oszkowski
preserves the intensity o f the thematic entrance in m. 124 and again rewrites the violin’s
dotted-eighth/sixteenth-note rhythm as a slower triplet figure (Wagner, mm. 93-94;
M oszkowski, mm. 122-23). Because this is a repetition o f earlier material, Moszkowski
looks for ways to heighten the expectation o f the thematic entrance without detracting
from the impact o f its arrival. His solution is to maintain the same quintuplet and
septuplet groupings but divide them evenly so that the sense o f accelerando is much less
pronounced.
165
Technical
Throughout this work Moszkowski has resolved a variety o f technical
conundrums in a pianistic manner that retains the original intent. This type o f problem
solving occurs in example 4-1 la-b.
Example 4 - lla . W agner, 1st and 2nd violin parts, mm. 130-33.
a rc o
nic/focresr.
m o l to r ro a r .•
Example 4-1 lb . M oszkowski, right hand, mm. 159-62.
The articulation figure found in the violin parts is typical for string instruments. The first
note is marked staccato and is separated from the two slurred sixteenth notes with a quick
bow change. W hile it is possible to reproduce this effect on the piano, it is both tiring
and cumbersome in a lengthy sequential passage. Furthermore, as the supporting string
parts have tremolo quarter-note chords, Moszkowski must use the pedal to sustain the
texture. The pedal, however, will undermine the sharpness and shortness o f the eighth-
note attack. Moszkowski determines that the overriding factor is the rising sequential
166
passage supported by the dominant pedal B2. Accordingly, he changes the articulation to
a slurred three-note figure that is technically more facile and allows the performer to
emphasize the large-scale sequential shape.
A more typical sort o f change occurs in W agner’s mm. 134-37 (Moszkowski,
mm. 163-66). As discussed in the previous chapter (ex. 3 -lb ) M oszkowski here combines
melodic aspects from both the wind and divisi violin and viola parts. The wind and brass
sections have the rhythmic outline o f the Riotous Shout (theme 6), while the violins and
violas fill in the dotted eighth notes with a series o f continuous sixteenth notes that
provide a strong sense o f high energy and forward motion. Moszkowski does not want to
compromise this driving rhythm. The problem, however, lies in replicating these
repeated sixteenth notes. At this tempo, it would be extremely challenging technically to
make an exact transcription o f these string parts. The overall boisterous character o f the
theme would be buried under the repeated pounding o f these chords. Moszkowski
realizes the theme in its original form in the right hand and writes a sixteenth-note
broken-chord figure in the left hand that fills out the remaining harmonic structure. The
offbeat tied left-hand octave Bs keeps the dissonant pedal tone firmly in place, while the
broken-chord figure creates an energetic and lively mood.
A similar example in Wagner occurs in mm. 142-45 (M oszkowski, mm. 171-74).
A rhythmically diminished fragment o f the Senses’ M astering Spell (theme 13) is used in
the piccolo, flute, oboe, and A clarinet parts. The violins have a pounding ostinato
figure, while the remaining wind and brass instruments have half-note chords supported
by the tremolo in the lower string parts. The pianist does not have enough fingers
available to maintain the violin ostinato, yet Moszkowski wants to retain part o f its
167
driving tension. The ostinato figure is omitted from mm. 167-70 but reinstated in the
final measure o f this passage (m. 174).
In order to keep up the force o f the moment, M oszkowski writes a b rief but
intense two-octave arpeggiated sweep that occurs three times in mm. 171-73. The
woodwind melodic figure remains intact with some octave displacement on the “E” at the
end o f beat two. The addition o f these sweeping triplet sixteenth notes is similar to other
changes M oszkowski has made when he wants to keep the rhythmic gesture moving and
fill out the harmonies, as in previous occurrences o f the Senses’ M astering Spell (theme
13; cf. ex. 4-2b). M oszkowski could have kept the ostinato figure intact by placing it in a
lower register, such as in the left-hand pattern. The result, however, would have had too
heavy an effect. B y omitting the ostinato material entirely, M oszkowski subtly reduces
the technical demands so the performer can prepare for the most forceful and powerful
moment o f the work, which occurs in m. 175.
M oszkowski’s endless series o f solutions address the issue o f transforming a
string tremolo into a viable pianistic pattern. The dominant repeating rhythm ic figure
throughout this section employs sixteenth notes (Wagner, mm. 134-81). M oszkowski’s
subtle changes underscore the driving, forward momentum o f this long passage and avoid
a sense of monotony. The orchestral range extends to five octaves at this climactic
moment (Wagner, m. 146; Moszkowski, m. 175). M oszkowski encompasses this wide
spread to compensate for the f f f string tremolo figure.
This upcoming “non-thematic” musical section IV begins the abandonment o f the
orgy (Wagner, mm. 154-81). A rapid sixteenth-note figure represents the departure o f the
participants. M oszkowski depicts this “break-up” w ith the same vigorous sixteenth-note
168
figure that W agner uses. Because one pianist cannot sustain nearly fifty measures o f
rapid sixteenth-note [string] tremolo activity, Moszkowski ingeniously alters the basic
sixteenth-note rhythmic figure so that the long-term feeling o f tension and excitement is
heightened.
In mm. 163-66, Moszkowski makes a special effort, as previously noted, to follow
W agner’s score by maintaining the thematic line in the right hand and transferring the
energy o f the sixteenth-note tremolo into a broken-chord sixteenth-note figure in the left
hand (ex. 3 -lb). In mm. 167-70 Moszkowski gives the ostinato figure to the right hand
but subtly shifts the underlying sixteenth-note tremolo figure into an alternating eighth-
note figure that has both solid and arpeggiated chords. In addition to lending heft and
support, these left-hand eighth notes subtly slow down the pulse w ithout lessening the
drive.
W ith the arrival o f the orgiastic climax in m. 175 M oszkowski stealthily speeds
up the rhythmic activity by changing from eighth notes to triplets. The melodic material
remains perfectly preserved from W agner’s score. At the same time, Moszkowski
approximates the resonance o f the five-octave orchestral range by writing a triplet
broken-octave figure in the left hand that encompasses three octaves, while the right-hand
chord crashes onto the remaining two octaves (mm. 175, 177). As the orgy’s
participants disperse (from m. 183 onwards), M oszkowski speeds up the rhythmic pulse
to sixteenth notes and rejoins W agner’s rhythmic structure, still maintaining the persistent
low B pedal. Though Moszkowski does not have the full resources o f an orchestra
available to him, he has found a clever and practical w ay in which to work around these
limitations and still deliver a compelling impact.
169
Another moment where Moszkowski finds a way to overcome technical and
timbral challenges occurs in example 4-12a-b.
25
timbalier
VI.
- :;rciagfrrprfwtj»
Br. ......w$ -.... =—|
Vc. «a#= t l r . r-..p kp T /•

, JOT
Kb.
25
This pattern is the same between mm. 154-61.
170
W agner’s two-note slurred sixteenth-note figure is continuous, with occasional slight
changes to the sequential pattern (ex. 4 -12a). The pattern becomes less chromatic and
follows a more chordal contour. The grouping o f instruments playing this figure changes
and the instruments shift from playing a unison pattern to one that creates a two- or three-
note chord.
M oszkowski uses a variety o f techniques to highlight the beginning o f each new
sequential phrase. After fourteen measures and four sequential phrases, however,
Moszkowski tires o f the repetitiveness (at m. 197), makes a cut from W agner’s score, and
does not rejoin the original music until m. 224 (Wagner, m. 210).
Moszkowski follows the basic harmonic outline given to the celli in mm. 183-86,
but alters the organization o f the violin’s descending chromatic figure. Although this
chromatic figure is easily accomplished on a string instrument, it is not easily
accommodated on the piano. Rather than just outline the diminished seventh chord in an
arpeggiated fashion, M oszkowski gives the left hand a few notes to show the basic chord
outline and then fills in the last two beats with an added rising chromatic figure. He does
not use W agner’s violin figure in the right hand but an interpolation. This new figure still
1 71
retains a distinctive chromatic quality but with a less focused direction. The violins’
descending gesture is replaced with a gradually descending, w andering figure. The right
hand’s contracting gesture implies a natural diminuendo as the fingers move closer
together. This enhances a “surge” that occurs when the hands reach up a m inor third at
the start of each new measure. The overall effect creates a crescendo as each subsequent
measure begins a little louder and higher in pitch. Although the notes within the measure
gently decrescendo, each successive measure increases with intensity thus creating an
overall internal forward surge.
At the same time that the right hand dynamically w eakens at the end o f each
measure, the chromatic ascent in the left hand suggests a crescendo that leads to the
downbeat and culminates in another huge dynamically emphasized arrival point in m.
187 (ex. 4-13).
In the next four-measure sequential section (W agner mm. 158-62; Moszkowski,
mm. 187-90) W agner continues w ith another chromatic descending line that has the
additional dynamic pow er and strength o f all the winds. His score is marked only with a
f but the introduction o f the new instruments provides both dynamic and timbral contrast.
Exam ple 4-13. M oszkow ski, m. 187.
172
In order to highlight the beginning o f another powerful, descending chromatic
passage Moszkowski changes the figuration and marks the passage f f f instead o ff f (ex. 4-
13). He cleverly chooses a figuration that offers a sharp textural contrast to the preceding
passage, where each hand played only one note at a time. In order to emphasize the
dynamic highpoint he writes a four-measure series o f alternating two- and four-note
chords. To further accent the chromatic descent, M oszkowski eliminates the wandering
element from the previous passage (ex. 4 -12b) and replaces it with a completely
chromatic melodic line in the right-hand chords. A strong impression o f rapid descent
takes place.
In mm. 162-65 W agner changes the descending sequential pattern to a rising one
of paired sixteenth-note ascending appoggiatura-like figures and broken chords (ex. 4-14;
Moszkowski, mm. 191-94). The gradually rising pattern uses an elaboration o f an A
minor chord for six measures. The A minor harmony subtly shifts to an F sharp half
diminished seven chord w ith the divisi double bass, timpani, bassoon, etc. in m. 166. The
remaining two measures o f this eight-measure section hold on to a root-position chord.
1 73
Example 4-14. W agner, m. 162.
Ob.
W.
U*.
(B)
a
a
Pos.
tc m p r e f
Pk.
fla tte rs wie eine
sem pi'ef
scm pref
174
Example 4-15. M oszkowski, mm. 191-92.26
—
i
# “JeD . -#■ ltd ).
Moszkowski does not merely follow W agner’s outline in this section (ex. 4-15).
Instead o f using just this rising inversion figure with repeated notes, he divides the piano
part into an upper, middle, and lower voice. The upper and lower parts that are divided
between the two hands provide the harmonic structure by outlining the chords and
showing the upward direction o f the inversion. The sixteenth-note middle voice, divided
between the two hands, follows the first violin and viola lines. At this point the viola line
is exactly the same as the violin part, but an octave lower (cf. ex. 4-14). By dividing the
music into three parts Moszkowski retains the rising repeated-note figure which is split
between the two hands. Thus, he makes it possible to play a very wrcpianistic figure in a
clear, articulated manner. By placing the harmonic skeleton on the exterior o f this figure,
the rising aspect o f this inversion o f earlier material comes across much more clearly.
In example 4-16a-b Moszkowski follows W agner’s harmonic structure but breaks
away from the latter’s notational pattern altogether in the final measures o f this extensive
sequential section. W hile W agner continues with the ever-rising pattern, Moszkowski
writes a treble-clef part that involves a hand crossing (m. 195, beat three). The passage
26 In m. 192 there is a clef oversight by either Moszkowski or the publisher. The last two
right-hand sixteenth notes o f m. 191 are notated in bass clef. The first right-hand notes in
m. 192 should have a treble clef sign in front o f them as they are intended to be played in
the middle C register.
175
continues to outline the harmony with two-note chords in the m idst o f the right-hand
sixteenth notes. Although M oszkowski continues w ith the quasi-arpeggiated broken-
chord figure in m. 196, the left hand no longer crosses over the right hand; instead it
accompanies the right hand in parallel m ajor sixths. These two measures signal the
beginning o f M oszkow ski’s improvisatory departure from W agner’s score. This type o f
integrated, transitional departure is quite typical o f M oszkow ski’s style throughout his
transcriptions.
M oszkowski often blurs the distinction between his own music and that o f the
composer whose music he is transcribing. The entire section from m. 183 onwards can
thus be viewed as a gradual separation from W agner’s composition. Moszkowski could
have written this sequential material so it more closely copied W agner’s orchestral score,
but instead he used this section to initiate a disconnection without arousing much
attention.
176
Example 4-16a. W agner, m. 166.
kl.Fl.
Ob.
If "
Hr.
«>
Trp.
CD)
T o s.
Pk.
B r.
Vc.
liv.
Kb.
Exam ple 4-16b. M oszkow ski, mm. 195-96.
con b ra v u ra
177
A Comparison o f Wagner’s and Moszkowski's Sections IV and V
At this point in the scene W agner’s French stage directions give the following
indication: “Conquered by the power o f love, the groups surrender to a sweet languor.
Little by little, they separate, retreating before the Graces” (Wagner, m. 170).27 Now the
frenzied passions o f the Bacchanal begin to subside. The Fauns, Nymphs, Satyrs, and
Mortals depart, while the stage fills with a rosy mist28 and the Graces indicate to Venus
the return o f tranquility in her empire and receive her thanks. To underscore these
actions W agner writes forty-two measures o f music (Wagner, mm. 168-210).
The orchestral writing at the start o f m. 168 is frenzied and wild. The flutes,
piccolos, and timpani have a two-measure j f that crescendos into a f f f chord in m. 170.
This is further enhanced by the tremolo in the divisi second violins, celli and double bass
parts, and the heralding unison figure in the trumpets, oboes, and clarinets. The tension is
heightened by the chromatic harmonic structure that moves from an F sharp diminished
seventh chord in E major (Wagner, m. 168) to an F dominant seventh chord in C major
(Wagner, m. 170).
W agner writes a series o f rising “wave-like” broken diminished seventh-chord
figures in the upper string parts (mm. 170-81). The combination o f the forward motion
o f this sixteenth-note figure, the overall rising sweep o f the quasi-arpeggiated sixteenth
notes, and the powerful dynamics i f f and fff) sustain the feverish agitation. One might
infer from the stage directions that the musical activity begins to subside, but this is not
97
Vaincus par la puissance de l’amour, les groupes cedent a une douce langeur. Ils
s’eloignent peu a peu en reculant devant les Graces.
28 “Une brume rosee.”
178
the case in W agner’s score. A full ten measures pass before the first sign o f a slight
29
diminuendo appears (Wagner, m. 180).
This first diminuendo marking appears two measures before a major key change,
where W agner introduces the key o f E-flat major (m. 182). Throughout the opera there is
an opposing duality between E major and E-flat major. The keys themselves act as a
musical representation o f the conflict between the two most important contrasting
principles in the opera. The key o f E-flat musically symbolizes Elizabeth and her purity,
while the key o f E [major] stands in sharp contrast as a representation o f Venus and her
hedonism.30 Throughout the opera these two keys are played o ff against one another.
Although the key signatures may appear juxtaposed (as in Wagner, mm. 222 and 223) the
keys o f E and E-flat do not violently clash together until later on in the opera.31
W agner begins to instill a general calmness with the arrival o f the new key o f E-
flat in m. 182. The tempo marking relaxes from the initial allegro in m. 1 to a molto
moderato m. 182. The winds have long, tied notes, further slowing the sense o f motion
and forward direction. The first violin, viola, and cello have an undulating and relaxing
thirty-second-note figure (Wagner, mm. 162-82). The soothing quality o f this gesture is
accomplished by several techniques. Previously this figure was comprised o f sixteenth-
Moszkowski indicates a diminuendo right away. Perhaps this is because the stage
directions in Charles N uitter’s edition appear at once and are not spread out over the
course o f several measures, as in the German editions. Moszkowski may have felt that the
stage instructions intended the calming o f passions to begin sooner rather than later.
30 The symbolic battle between the keys o f E and E flat major is discussed by Carolyn
Abbate, “Orpheus and the Underworld: The Music o f W agner’s Tannhduser,” English
National Opera Guide no. 39, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder, 1988), 33-51.
31 It is not until the third act that the two keys finally meet in “battle.” This occurs during
the return o f the Venusberg music as Venus declares her victory (in the key o f E major).
Suddenly, in a desperate last attempt, Wolfram cries out the name o f Elizabeth and shifts
the key center to E-flat; cf. Abbate, 43.
179
note two-note slurs that created a breathless m omentum in an allegro tempo (ex. 4 -12a).
Now the thirty-second-note figures are purely arpeggiated octave gestures rising every
quarter-note by inversion (Wagner, m. 182). Over the course o f five measures this figure
rises to a peak halfway through and gradually descends by inversion (Wagner, mm. 182-
86). This is coupled w ith a diminuendo poco a poco marking. The effect is a long, slow
wave or sigh. The activity continues to become more tranquil in mm. 187-94, where the
only string instrument with a clear rhythmical gesture is the viola. Most o f the winds
have long tied notes, the exception being the second oboe, horn and trumpet in E parts
(Wagner, mm. 192-93). These instruments have a quiet dotted figure that anticipates the
subdued entrance o f the W ild Cry o f Delight (theme 8, m. 195).
A variety o f themes from this scene are juxtaposed in the next section, while two
harps provide two different accompanimental figures (Wagner, mm. 195-210). Harp 1
has a broken E-flat triadic figure while harp 2 has rolled chords on the strong beats
marked dolce. The W ild Cry o f Delight (theme 8) appears in the flute and clarinet parts
(Wagner, mm. 195-96, 199-200). The Decoy-call (theme 14a) occurs in the first violin
part, briefly supported by the second violins (W agner, mm. 196-98, 200-02). The
Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4) is heard in the cello, viola, bassoon and clarinet in B parts
(Wagner, mm. 197-98); this is extended to first and second flutes, oboes, clarinets, violas,
and celli (W agner, mm. 201-02). The second part o f the Decoy-call (theme 14b) appears
in its entirety in the clarinet part (Wagner, mm. 203-10); at this point Moszkowski
reconnects w ith W agner’s score (Wagner, m. 210).
M oszkowski takes a different approach to the latter part o f section IV (mm. 197-
223). Like Wagner, M oszkowski uses this area to provide a general unwinding from the
180
preceding orgy but w ith some important changes. M oszkowski completely avoids any
clear thematic usage. Whereas W agner gives the listener b rief thematic reminders in
mm. 195-210, M oszkowski ignores this section entirely, preferring to wait for the
entrance o f the Theme o f Peace (theme 15; Wagner, mm. 210, and 223).
Although he does not quote thematic material, Moszkowski follows in a rough
way some o f W agner’s harmonic changes. In m. 203 M oszkowski indicates a key change
from four sharps to no sharps or flats; this is similar to m. 170, where W agner shifts to C
major. W agner does not provide a clear authentic cadence in C major, preferring a
seven-measure sub-dominant pedal to support the key change. M oszkowski also does not
present a formal harmonic progression that tonicizes C major in the corresponding
measures (mm. 203-23) but writes a series o f seventh chords that progressively descend
chromatically (mm. 203-09).
The next important modulation in W agner’s score coincides with the molto
moderato diminuendo poco a poco marking at the key signature change to E-flat
(Wagner, m. 182). Moszkowski also marks the arrival o f the E-flat key with a tempo
change to molto moderato, but subdues the passions differently (m. 224; this is also the
start o f M oszkow ski’s section V). The change o f key to E-flat in W agner’s score is the
first overt indication o f a lessening o f intensity.32 When the stage directions indicate the
creatures dispersal, the diminuendo poco a poco marking first appears.
W hen M oszkowski modulates to E-flat in m. 224, the calm ing o f the passions is
already complete. The entire break-up o f the orgy has occurred by the time the new key
and tempo arrive. Moszkowski does not maintain the high dynamic level for as long as
32 •
The previous piano or diminuendo sign occurred in W agner, m. 120. Only strong
dynamics such as f f f and f f f as well as crescendo occur in mm. 120 -80.
1 81
Wagner. By m. 202 there is a decrescendo marking that flows into an arpeggio passage
marked armonioso and m f (m. 203). In m. 207 Moszkowski indicates poco a poco
diminuendo and arrives at piano in m. 211. The dynamic calming continues as
Moszkowski adds several expression marks not found in W agner’s score: sempre
diminuendo (m. 212), perdendosi (m. 217), a ritardando and fermata mark (m. 219), and
molto ritard. diminuendo— assai (mm. 222-23). This last marking occurs just before m.
224, thereby providing a smooth segue into the molto moderato section and section V,
thus completing the entire transition section in twenty-one measures.
Harmonically, Moszkowski does not follow the W agner outline in his newly
composed section (mm. 197-223). W ith the exception o f the key signature changes
themselves (C major and E-flat major) Moszkowski writes original music for this
passage. Like Wagner, Moszkowski does integrate a rhythmic unwinding into the
notational passagework. Although W agner’s gradual rhythmic relaxation does not occur
in M oszkowski’s score, there is a written-out ritardando that extends from m. 203 to m.
223. M oszkowski’s various arpeggiated figures emulate the “rosy mist” swirling in the
air. This begins with the trumpet-like left hand (mm. 197-98) and continues with a series
of descending sixteenth-note triads interspersed with some stepwise motion in the right
hand. This four-octave cascade shifts into a rising /falling arpeggiated figure that
requires the left hand to punctuate each peak with a high “A”33 by crossing over the right
hand (mm. 199-200). Moszkowski then settles into more sonorous arpeggiated
passagework. In mm. 201-02 the range o f the arpeggios becomes less spread out.
Instead o f requiring four beats and covering three-and-a-half octaves, the arpeggiation
33 The melodically punctuated “A” is an A5. Its presence serves to widen the overall
chordal spread to three-and-a-half octaves from F2 to A5.
182
uses only two beats and covers a range o f tw o-and-a-half octaves. The energy begins to
dissipate with the occurrence o f the four-beat-long decrescendo marking in m. 202.
With the arrival o f the C major key signature, M oszkowski shifts completely into
a fully arpeggiated pattern that resembles a large rolling wave (mm. 203-10). These eight
measures have a quality similar to the opening o f Liszt’s concert etude Un Sospiro. The
only real activity is the chromatically ascending bass line. The harmony settles on a D
seventh chord (m. 209), where it remains for the final fifteen measures o f this section.
The lack o f any harmonic motion contributes to the implied sense o f time standing still or
slowing down. This idea is further enhanced by the upcoming ritardando.
Beginning in m. 211 Moszkowski composes an extended written-out ritardando.
The open-spaced D-seventh chord takes three measures to complete a rise/fall cycle that
covers four-and-a-half octaves. Each subsequent dynamic becomes softer. The activity
further slows down as the wave-like figure has quarter-note rests built into its structure
(mm. 215-17) and then an actual ritard (m. 219). The sixteenth notes are replaced by
quarter-note triplets (m. 220) that end with two measures marked molto ritard on half
note repeated octave Cs. These arpeggiated permutations, combined with the gradually
slowing tempo and the decreasing dynamic level, capture the essence o f a “rosy mist”
swirling around the Venusberg. Thus, these final twenty-five measures sound as if they
should be played on a harp. Indeed, W agner scored this section for two harps, yet neither
o f his two accompanimental harp patterns captures the harp-like feel o f M oszkowski’s
music.
Several questions are raised regarding the deviations and changes made by
Moszkowski in this section. W hy does Moszkowski time the arrival o f the new key and
183
tempo change to occur after the orgy has been completed and not use the new key as a
symbol o f the transition from chaos to order? One possible explanation is that it is
physically taxing on the perform er and the listener if the dynamic level o ff f f f or sjfz
were maintained for a longer period in the transcription. Regarding these dynamics and
accents, M oszkowski used nearly every “trick” o f piano technique to coax an orchestral
sound and volume from the piano. Some examples o f these techniques include the use o f
large three- to five-note chords in the right hand that support the left hand passage
work,34 rapidly alternating chords in both hands,35 right hand chords with left hand
chordal tremolos,36 huge eighth-note chords with a dynamic accent attached,37 and
•JQ
written instructions indicating the mood such as fero ce and strepitoso, am ong others.
After a while both the listener and the performer become so accustomed to the volume o f
sound that its imposing presence seems less forceful, so that providing new and more
impressive dynamic levels becomes more difficult. This is particularly important, as
there are only a few quieter moments in the preceding two hundred measures. By
bringing the Bacchanal to an early close (as compared to W agner), M oszkowski provides
welcome contrast and relief, both dynamically and texturally.
While this reasoning m ay explain M oszkowski’s dynamic deviation from
W agner’s Paris version, it does not address the different placem ent o f the molto moderato
tempo marking. W agner uses the molto moderato to signify the culmination o f chaos and
the beginning o f the return to peace and tranquility. M oszkowski does not write his
34 Measures 25-27.
35 Measures 187-90.
36 M easures 33-35.
37
■50 Measure 187, downbeat.
Measure 142 and 175, respectively.
184
molto moderato until they have been restored. Furthermore, M oszkowski does not
abruptly change tempo in m. 224. The previous markings o f perdendosi, pesante (which
here probably means a more marked slowing down o f the triplet quarter-notes, as
opposed to playing them more “heavily” in terms o f dynamics), ritard, and molto ritard
have effectively decreased the tempo to a more moderate speed. The announcement o f
the new tempo appears more as a stabilization factor than a real change. Wagner, on the
other hand, accommodates the molto moderato tempo change by constantly altering the
note values. In addition, the themes in W agner’s brief thematic section (mm. 195-209;
the one Moszkowski eliminates entirely) are now noticeably slower than when they were
first heard a few minutes earlier.
W hat is M oszkowski’s purpose in his omission o f W agner’s thematic reprise?
Perhaps M oszkowski felt that it was superfluous because it did not occur in the original
Dresden version. Furthermore, in the early versions o f the opera Elizabeth’s key o f
purity (E-flat) does not appear at all in the Venusberg scene. Perhaps the combination o f
the sensually extravagant Bacchanal themes in the “pure” key o f E-flat was too much o f a
moral contradiction. It is interesting to note that Moszkowski does not reconnect with
W agner’s score until the Bacchanal themes have ended and this musically symbolic
conflict o f good versus evil has moved on. Moszkowski could have ju st as easily
recomposed the entire end o f the work, as he does in the Carmen Fantasy. The
remaining named themes that Moszkowski accordingly [i.e., after W agner] incorporates
into his transcription are the W ild Cry o f Delight (theme 8), Sirens’ Choir (Decoy-call)
motives (themes 14a-b), the Theme o f Peace (theme 15), and Love’s Embrace (theme
16).
185
Section VI - M oszkow ski’s Ending
At the end o f Section V (mm. 322-24), Moszkowski again segues smoothly from
W agner’s music into his own musical material. This type o f musical disguise is typical
o f M oszkowski’s transcriptions. As W agner’s Venusberg Scene closes, order, peace, and
calmness are restored. The music fades away with a beautiful, peaceful violin line
accompanied softly by a bassoon solo, and exudes a sense o f serenity and tranquility,
which M oszkowski mirrors in mm. 316-22. He indicates dolce cantando and sets the
violin melody in the right hand. The bassoon solo is omitted, but as this musical line has
been heard many times throughout Section V, mostly in the oboe, it becomes superfluous.
In order to capture W agner’s ringing quality o f the flute and oboe unison E octave in mm.
305-11, Moszkowski crosses the left hand over the right hand (mm. 318-22).39
Moszkowski takes advantage of the body’s design to facilitate the tone color production
when scoring this passage. When the left hand extends so far over the right side o f the
body, it produces a generally lighter and more ringing sound. This crossing notation also
allows the left hand to reach the high octave, yet maintain the integrity o f the bass chords
by avoiding a bass chord roll in order to project the notes, and preserve the quasi-
orchestral sonority that Moszkowski has so beautifully achieved. The final two measures
of this section (mm. 323-24, including the pick-up at the end o f m. 322) offer a brief
quasi-chromatic transition that serves as a preparation for the upcoming section.
Although these added bars sound like Wagner, they are really Moszkowski in disguise.
39 The first o f the E octaves does not have an “m.s.” sign. This is obviously an editorial
oversight because there is an “m.d.” sign on the note following the octave, indicating a
switch o f hands. The remaining two octaves have the “m.s.” indication.
186
The final section (mm. 325-61) functions as a kind o f “postlude” that recapitulates
some o f the musical themes previously presented. Moszkowski opens Section VI in the
original Allegro (Tempo I). A simultaneous and redundant reiteration o f the tempo is
given next to the dynamic marking (a tempo) in m. 325. The opening four measures
(mm. 325-28) are identical to mm. 175-78 with some minor exceptions. This entire
opening passage o f section VI is marked with an “8va” sign over the right hand, while in
the earlier section only the first chord is marked with the “8va sign. Another difference is
in the dynamic markings. The earlier section functioned as the climactic culmination o f
the orgy and the dynamics were marked accordingly with both f f f and strepitoso.
Moszkowski avoids an abrupt transition from the glow o f the orgy’s aftermath to the
music that reminds the listener o f its zenith. Accordingly, he marks this passage with a
piano, thus delaying the first sign o f a crescendo until m. 329. This crescendo is a
moderate one that simply leads to a mezzo fo rte two measures later. The restatement o f
the Strains o f M addening Revelry (theme 5) is then followed by a brief transitional
passage (mm. 329-32). These four measures have quasi arpeggiated figures reminiscent
o f the Intoxicated Gestures (theme 12a) and conclude with a final flourish (m. 332) that
sets up the next thematic arrival.
A fragment from the opening o f the Bacchanalian Dance (theme 4) is now
presented fo rte in C m ajor (m. 333). The hands play this figure in unison octaves. The
downbeat o f each m easure begins with an eighth-note C major chord in first inversion
(mm. 333-35). The Bacchanalian Dance fragment rises by inversion within these three
measures and finally implodes on itself in m. 336. The notes no longer move
consecutively but are combined into chords that move up by inversion every quarter note
187
instead o f once per measure. This is followed by a longer transitional passage marked
conforza that can be broken down into three smaller areas (mm. 337-42). The first o f
these (mm. 337-38) is a further continuation o f m. 336, except that the note values have
been halved from eighths to sixteenths. Over the course o f the preceding four measures
the general register o f the notes has steadily risen. The con fo rza marking in m. 337
signifies the melodic and harmonic peak, and the sixteenth-note passage (mm. 337-38)
begins a four-octave rapidly descending quasi-arpeggiated cascade. The next sequential
figure begins abruptly in m. 339 with the sudden arrival o f a jarring G sharp minor chord
that sets o ff an octave unison figure that moves in an ascending, semi-arpeggiated, and
scalar fashion for five octaves (mm. 339-41). The final transitional sequence then
continues the unison concept but expands the range from two octaves to three octaves
(mm. 341-42). The rhythmic figuration slows from sixteenths to eighths. These
enormous eighth-note chords begin an arpeggiated descent that is chromatically colored
and punctuated with occasional G sharp minor chords on beats one and three, leading into
the final thematic presentation in m. 343.
This last thematic section (mm. 343-61) recalls the violin’s final moments o f
W agner’s Venusberg scene w ith a few differences. Unlike the violin’s slow,/?/? ending in
W agner’s music (mm. 303-13), Moszkowski recalls this theme w ith ajff dynamic
marking. This thematic m om ent is set in E major, with the key remaining fairly stable for
the remainder o f the postlude. The violin theme is given a two-measure introduction in
mm. 343-44 before it is rendered in its entirety (mm. 345-52). The left-hand broken-
octave figure [also called “drum bass”] is commonly used in place o f a string tremolo in
orchestral reductions for piano. This tremolo figure slowly hovers chromatically around
188
an E octave as the dynamic begins to die away to a ppp (mm. 351-52). The melodic
line’s tied and held notes function like a written out ritard that leads into an andante
tempo change in m. 353. This final tempo indication reiterates W agner’s last marking.
W ith this new tempo M oszkowski gradually returns to the same music that concluded
W agner’s scene. In mm. 353-56 Moszkowski hints at a return o f the Sirens’ Choir
(theme 14a). H e does not provide a complete thematic rendering, but rather a harmonic
reminder. The section is marked espressivo and has two fermata signs that occur on a
chord and then a rest (m. 354) as a way o f relaxing the motion. The final six measures of
the transcription (mm. 356-61) are re-metered with a 3/2 time signature. The ppp
dynamic is reiterated, and the music from the coda o f W agner’s scene is heard in a more
relaxed and tranquil setting. By changing the meter M oszkowski composed a written-out
ritardando. The shift from 4/4 to 3/2 does not feel abrupt because Moszkowski cleverly
conceals it w ithin the Sirens’ Choir (theme 14a).
Example 4 -17a shows the Sirens’ Choir theme with the original rhythmic pattern.
M oszkowski doubled the length o f the rhythmic figures. In spite o f this change, the
listener does not feel any apparent difference, because the tempo has already slowed
down to andante. The m ain thematic chord still arrives on a downbeat with a mini
cadenza in the upper staves, as before (cf. ex. 4-9b). In addition, the arrival o f the 3/2
measure has no strong written-out pulse to draw attention to the rhythmic shift. Another
factor that contributes to the smooth meter segue is the choice o f meter that Moszkowski
selected. M oszkow ski’s choice o f a 3/2 meter is a natural one because it simply sounds
like a broader version o f the Sirens’ Choir’s 3/4 (ex. 4-17b).
189
Example 4-17a. Wagner, mm. 228-29.
Ob.
Kl.
Hr/
Hr.
naht euch dem Lan -

p res dv r i - t'rt -
190
40
Con lib erta .

■Si
rs
,_Q _
1o -
Moszkowski was quite a showman, as is evidenced by some o f his own fiery
compositions, such as Etincelles, op. 36, and Capriccio, op. 50. He usually preferred a
more Z>ravwra-like ending to bring the audience to its feet. The final 104 measures o f
W agner’s work are relatively soft, slow, tranquil, and soothing (mm. 209-313). Perhaps
Moszkowski was concerned that by ending a solo piece in such a restrained manner he
would lessen the audience’s enthusiasm. As a result, Moszkowski designs an ending that
will cue the audience to applaud but still close with the serenity o f V enus’ Grotto.
Although M oszkow ski’s abandonment o f W agner’s closing bars in this scene m ay cause
some distress for purists, it must be remembered that this piece was not intended as a
40 No clef sign is included at the beginning o f ex. 4-17b (m. 355). This is another
erroneous omission o f a treble clef indication in the score. Beginning in m. 345 both
hands are scored for bass clef; this continues until the end o f m. 352. At the double bar
sign in m. 353 the right hand should be written in treble clef so that the Sirens’ Choir
(theme 14a) occurs w ith the correct notation. The treble clef sign occurs, however, at the
end o f the m easure in the left hand so the harmony can be accurately realized. The right-
hand part in mm. 353-55 can be played properly only in the treble clef. The bass clef
must also be added to the left hand for m. 355.
191
substitute for a piano-vocal score and would never have been used in an operatic
situation. Furthermore, M oszkowski refers to this “nachkomponierte Szene” as a
“paraphrase,” implying that liberties could be taken freely with the score. It is important
to note that M oszkowski never introduced new thematic material to this ending. Unlike
some o f his contem poraries, who exhibited great compositional freedom in their
transcriptions, M oszkowski obviously attempted to keep his transcriptions in the style o f
the original creator.
Conclusion
As discussed in chapter two, there are a variety o f transcription models utilized by
composers and perform ers. Instead o f using a well-known model such as a virtuosic
transcription or a simplified arrangement, Moszkowski forges his own transcriptional
style and re-creates a large-scale operatic/orchestral experience on the pianoforte.
Moszkowski emulates intrinsic orchestral features, such as sustained pitches with and
without a dynamic increase in his “filling-in” technique (see exx. 4-2b, 4-5b, 4-9b, and 4-
17b). Each o f these examples is individually crafted for the specific musical moment. In
example 4-2b M oszkow ski’s quasi-cadenza-like passage prolongs the sound o f the
orchestral dotted h alf note, heightens the emotional potency o f W agner’s Senses’
M astering Spell (theme 13) by including an additional expressive mark (appassionato),
and exploits the piano’s range and pedaling within an upward-sweeping cadenza-like
gesture.
M oszkowski uses a rapid scale as filling-in technique in example 4-5b. In this
case a tremolo, an intrinsic string gesture, is replaced with a m ore pianistically practical
192
solution. This nine-note scale not only replaces W agner’s string tremolo figure but, in
typical M oszkowski fashion, accentuates the opening o f the Riotous Shout (theme 6) with
its energetic forward thrust.
Examples 4-9b and 4-17b are both based on the Sirens’ Choir theme (theme 12a;
albeit example 4 -17b is from M oszkowski’s compositional addition while 4-9b is found
in W agner’s score). W hile the basic notational “filling-in” outline, pedaling, and
dynamic markings are the same in both examples, M oszkowski’s subtle change o f
expressive markings produces two different musical effects. In example 4-9b the
velocissimo indication produces a gossamer-like, yet forward-moving effect. In example
4 -17b he combines a sustained pedal, an extremely soft and fragile dynamic mark, and a
slower tempo (by virtue o f the 3/2 time signature) with the expressive indications o f Con
liberta and vibrato. Thus Moszkowski allows the listener to musically travel with the
Sirens as far as the sound w ill carry. It is a magical moment. M oszkowski’s strategic use
o f expressive markings not only helps the performer imaginatively, but it encourages a
greater use o f timbral expressiveness on the piano.
M oszkowski often modifies the orchestral score so that a musically powerful
equivalent can be produced on the piano. One such alteration is found where various
instruments move together, at the interval o f either an octave or a unison. This produces
a rich sound and a flexible dynamic volume as a result o f the variety o f different
instrumental timbres, while avoiding an overly dense texture because o f the intervallic
spacing o f the pitches between the different instruments. Examples 4-3a, 4-4a, and 4-5a
exhibit different sorts o f octave or unison instrumental combinations. Moszkowski must
understand the overall dynamic and textural needs o f these passages before transcribing
193
them for the piano. Both passages in examples 4-3a and 4-4a have nearly identical
instrumental parts (see 4-3a, mm. 113-14; and 4-4a, mm. 117-18) neither o f which
apparently lends itself satisfactorily to an exact transcription. Considering the relative
intensity o f both passages, Moszkowski retains the melodic shape in the right hand but
adds a depth o f sound by including bass notes in the left hand. This left-hand part adds
volume and richness to the piano passage, increases the sense o f forward motion, and
offers a timbral alternative to the orchestral octave/unison passage b y moving either in
contrary motion to the right hand or playing during the right-hand’s dotted eighth notes.
Furthermore, the dynamic flexibility in the orchestral part is preserved in the piano score
because o f its relative technical simplicity. Although the aforementioned measures in
examples 4-3 and 4-4 are nearly identical, Moszkowski enhances a more musically
intense part (ex. 4-3b; m. 142). Moszkowski dramatically intensifies this moment with a
short, but large chord on the downbeat that is coupled with the expressive term feroce.
The importance o f communicating a sense o f forward motion is seen also in
example 4-5b. Like examples 4-3b and 4-4b where M oszkowski adds moving sixteenth
notes in the left hand under the right hand’s dotted eighth note, example 4-5b (m. 8) is
another example o f forward motion. Faced with repeated notes in the orchestral part (ex.
4-5a, m. 5), M oszkowski fills in the dotted eighth notes with a sixteenth-note chordal
outline. This is very similar to the technique he used in the left hand o f examples 4-3b
and 4-4b. W hile an exact replication o f these kinds o f orchestral repeated notes would be
nearly impossible to successfully execute on the piano, M oszkowski’s rhythmic-melodic
gestures generate the orchestral effect in a pianistically practical manner.
194
Other instances o f how Moszkowski varies a repetitious passage, in which
either an entire section or group o f instruments has the same passage either in unison or
octaves, are found in examples 4-6, 4-12, 4-15 (this corresponds to ex. 4-14), and 4-16.
In all these cases Moszkowski makes alterations that mimic the requisite texture and
orchestral sound but better suit the practicalities o f the pianoforte. In example 4-6
Moszkowski re-wrote this section to accommodate the sound o f a passage in octaves and
altered the articulation from staccato to martellato for a more effective result. Examples
4-12, 4-15, and 4-16 all deal with a similar quasi-repeated-note string passage. In each of
his responses, Moszkowski changes the ordering o f the notes and adds practical,
functional pedal markings that highlight the dynamic, harmonic, textural, and timbral
nuances. In example 4-15 M oszkowski’s ingenious division o f the string sixteenth note
passage between the two hands actually promotes the correct melodic articulation.
Furthermore, M oszkowski is not beyond slightly altering the original rhythms o f
melodies for the purpose o f contextual normalization, as in example 4-10.
M oszkowski’s overall guiding principal o f transcription is one that explores
aesthetically insightful alternatives. Thus, with a simplicity and conciseness in terms o f
quantity o f notes, dynamics, texture, pedaling, expressive indications, and timbre,
Moszkowski captures the essence o f W agner’s score in his piano transcription.
195
CHAPTER 5
ISOLDENS TOD. SCHLUSS-SZENE
AUS TRISTAN UND ISOLDE VON RICHARD W AGNER.
Introduction
M oszkow ski’s two final forays into the transcription genre occurred when he was
sixty years old. The musical sources for these transcriptions were originally written by a
composer whose music M oritz did not take seriously as a youth. M oszkow ski’s older
brother, Alexander, writes that for him and Moritz “the simple wish to hear some music
from Tannhauser ox Lohengrin would fall into a comic perversion.” 1 Nonetheless, as
Moritz learned more about Richard W agner’s (1813-1883) music, his appreciation grew
and probably led to his paraphrases on music from Tannhauser and Tristan und Isolde.
M oszkow ski’s paraphrase2 Isoldens Tod, published by Peters in 1914 and
dedicated to Ferruccio Busoni, is based on music from the opening and closing o f Tristan
und Isolde. W hile the choice o f music might at first seem odd, W agner him self set the
precedent. A ccording to Newman, W agner was having difficulty securing a
performance o f Tristan. Although the opera was finally completed in 1859,3 the first
performance did not occur until 1865.4 In an effort to raise interest in his opera W agner
took the Prelude (otherwise known as the Introduction to Act I) and the Liebestod
1 Alexander M oszkowski, Panorama meines Lebens (Berlin: Fontaine and Co., 1925),
32: “Der blosse W unsch, etwas aus Tannhauser oder Lohengrin kennenzulem en, fiel
schon ins Bereich der kom ischen Perversionen.”
2 Although the term paraphrase appears on the title page o f the published score, it is
unknown if this term was ascribed by M oszkowski or the publisher.
3 Ernest Newman, The Wagner Operas, vol. 1 (New York: Harper Colophon, 1983), 201.
4 Newman, Wagner Operas, 201.
196
(Isolde’s death scene) and “linked up the Prelude with the finale for concert purposes.”5
Moszkowski took this union as the inspiration for the musical structure o f his
paraphrase.6
M oszkow ski’s M usical Introduction
W ith the exception o f its twenty-two-measure introduction, M oszkowski’s
paraphrase is entirely based on the final aria from Tristan und Isolde. Following
W agner’s score, Moszkowski opens the transcription with a portion o f the musical
material from the Prelude o f Act I. W hile the opening ten measures o f the transcription
are identical to the first ten measures o f W agner’s Prelude (using the famous “Love
Potion”/ “Liebestrank” motive), the remaining twelve measures continue in a quasi-
question-and-answer format using material also based on W agner’s opening phrase.7
This transition into the Liebestod sounds quite Wagner-like but is in fact M oszkowski’s
own compositional addition. The main purpose o f these transitional measures is to move
from the Prelude’s opening “key” o f A minor down a half-step to the Liebestod's opening
key o f A-flat major. Although Moszkowski is adept at stealthily inserting his own
musical endeavors into a score, as he frequently does in his Carmen and Tannhauser
5 Newman, 204.
6 Newman states that W agner’s concert arrangement o f the Prelude (which Wagner
referred to as Liebestod) and the Liebestod (which W agner referred to as Verklarung)
“makes an admirably rounded whole, musically and psychologically. . .. The Prelude
[functions] as a progression from the first timidest lament o f inappeasable longing . . . to
the most terrible outpouring o f . . . hopeless love. . . .[In] the Verklarung . . .over
Tristan’s body the dying Isolde receives . . . eternal union in measureless space . . . ” 205.
7 Lothar W indsperger, D as Buch der Motive aus Opern und Musikdramen Richard
Wagners' (London: Schott, [1931]), 16. The motive from the opening three bars o f
W agner’s Tristan are referred to as the “Liebestrank motiv” (Love Potion motive) in
W indsperger’s motivic catalogue. Newman, 207: Newman also discusses this extremely
important motive and divides it into two parts.
197
transcriptions, he remains scrupulously attached to W agner’s score once the Liebestod
begins.
Transcription Techniques
Unlike M oszkowski’s other transcription works that offer insight into his
compositional and pianistic world, this transcription is devoted to transferring music from
one medium to another. Moszkowski focuses his energy on successfully adapting the
o
orchestral timbres for the pianoforte. In doing so, he omits Isolde’s vocal line entirely.
An early example o f M oszkowski’s skill in transferring orchestral timbre to the piano is
shown in example 5-la-b.
M oszkowski encounters a series o f overlapping entrances beginning with the
lower staff o f the second violin line (Wagner, m. 6, beat 1; ex. 5-la), moving into the
upper staff o f the second violin line (Wagner, m. 7, beat 1; ex. 5-la), continuing with the
lower staff o f the first violin line (Wagner, m. 7, beat 3; ex. 5-la), and merging into the
first horn line (Wagner, m. 8, beat 1; ex. 5-la). Moszkowski divides the two hands into
four clear voices and stems the melodic lines to show the importance o f each subsequent
entrance in the piano score. He places a connecting dotted line delineating the melodic
path, thereby illustrating the journey o f the melody as it moves from one voice to another.
W agner scores the first entrance o f the upper winds and harp in m. 9 (ex. 5-la).
The cello section, supported by the violas, carries the m ain melodic material, while the
upper sections o f both the winds and strings provide a quasi-counter-melody. The harp
entrance is scored in a 12/8 meter, while the rest o f the orchestra remains in 4/4. The
8 Liszt and Tausig in their transcriptions similarly omit the vocal line.
198
different time signatures as well as the harp’s changing rhythmic pattern (Wagner, mm.
9-11) create a less rhythm ically structured sound for the only instrument with a moving
line at this point.
Example 5 -la . W agner, Liebestod, mm. 6-9.9
'■ C l. (A )
. f-d™. - ^
Hr. - -
• Yc.
Cb.
lf; VI.IW Hslfl*(nutD»»ppferj
9 Richard Wagner, Tristan und Isolde (Konneman Music: Budapest, 1994).
199
Example 5 -lb . M oszkowski, mm. 27-32.
S 3Jt.
2a.
M oszkowski concentrates on the cello and harp lines. To highlight the cello line
he marks the left hand’s tenor voice cantando and replaces the string tremolos with
sixteenth notes in the bass line to fill out the harmony. The right hand takes over the harp
line using the same harmonies but with a different rhythmic figuration. W agner’s
irregular rhythmic pattern and change o f meter give the harp part an impatient, rushing
quality that M oszkowski emulates in the right hand. In order not to interfere with the
lyrical cello (tenor) line, M oszkowski omits the downbeat note o f each o f the right-hand
harp arpeggiations. He further exploits this spontaneous quality by notating the right
hand in thirty-second-note figures, which registrally peak on either the last note o f beats
one and two or ju st after the arrival o f beat four. The combination o f the rhythmically
offset arpeggios and their rising contours creates an energetic, rhythm ically amorphous
swirl o f sound without overwhelming the beautiful cello line.
Another important component is Moszkowski’s careful pedal markings. In
addition to indicating a pedal change on beats one and two (M oszkowski, m. 31; ex. 5-
2 00
lb), M oszkowski writes a nearly two-beat pedal under beats three and fo u r.10 This is
significant because, although the pedal marking complements the harp-like right-hand
arpeggiation by retaining the pedal for the majority o f beats three and four, Moszkowski
unifies the longer arpeggiated figure and underscores the inherent dynamic swell that
occurs at the beginning o f beat four. The most sophisticated part o f his pedaling,
however, occurs with the timing o f the release in the middle o f beat four. Ordinarily the
pedal would be changed on the following downbeat, but by clearing the sound a fraction
earlier the texture lightens and the figuration retains its clarity.
Dynamic Endurance and Sustainment
W agner’s layered orchestration in this section includes sustained half notes and
whole notes in the oboe, clarinet (in A), horn (in E, including the Love Potion motive),
bass clarinet (in A), and double bass parts, while the Liebestod motive heard in the top
violin line and cello part has a continuing legato quality (Wagner, m. 18; ex. 5-2a). Only
the violas and the second violins disturb this idyllic moment with their restlessly moving
lines. W agner marks the horn line (Love Potion motive) piano sehr zart, meaning very
delicate, and the bass clarinet, violin one, and cello piano dolce with a slight crescendo at
the end o f the m easure.11 This leads into the entrance o f the Act II Liebesverkldrungs
motive (Love’s Transfiguration) in the first clarinet line (Wagner, m. 19)12 that is
distinguished by the thirty-second-note turn in the middle o f beat one.
10 This type o f pedal m arking is frequently found in this work. Other examples in this
area include mm. 34, 35, and 36.
11 The bass clarinet part does not have the crescendo at the end o f the measure in its part.
12 Newman, 259. Newm an says this suggests “tender yearning” or “ sweet longing.”
201
ci.
H r.
B el
(immir srlirwwrli.)
I s o ld
den pen
Ve.
dim.
Exam ple 5-2b. M oszkow ski, mm. 39-41.
, . n f e a s
202
The graceful turn figure smoothes the major-sixth leap (D-B) in the clarinet line.
As the motive begins its descent on beat two, the viola's upward-reaching D major
arpeggio figure provides an eloquent moment o f contrary motion with the clarinet’s
Liebesverklarungs motive. The clarinet, second violin, and viola parts descend
chromatically at different rates o f speed in this motive. W hile the clarinets and cellos
hold their final note at the end o f m. 19, the second violins pick up the rhythmic slack and
press forward with a counter-melodic figure in the following bars. W hen this orchestral
layering is taken as a whole with the beautiful Liebesverklarungs motive, a m ulti
dimensional, intense musical picture is painted.
In addition to recognizing the complexity o f Wagner's score and searching for a
pianistic approximation, M oszkowski strives to mimic the sustaining quality o f the
orchestra. In order to achieve a quasi-layered effect, he divides the piano part into four
distinct voices to highlight individual instrumental lines or combinations o f instrumental
parts. For example, the soprano line in m. 40 is directly imported from the first violin
part, but in m. 41 the soprano line takes its notes from the first clarinet stave (ex. 5-2b).
The alto line in m. 40 is a rhythmic variant o f the second violin line, w ith additional notes
creating a veil o f sustained sound. (The first note o f each beat in the alto line is the one
that sustains the overall sound and is not derived from the second violin part.) Although
Moszkowski places an accented note on the first three beats in the alto o f m. 40, he does
not entirely dispense with the restless nature o f the second violin part and, like Wagner,
ties the second and third sixteenth notes together.
The tenor and bass lines are less well defined. These two parts, although
distinctly separated, work in tandem together to create a mesh o f sound. The bass line
203
sets up the harmonic foundation from the double bass part, while the tenor line augments
the harmony w ith the remaining arpeggiated sixteenth notes on beats one and two (m. 40;
ex. 5-2b). The descending, chromatic sixteenth notes beginning in the bass line and
moving to the tenor line (m. 40, beats 2 and 3; ex. 5-2b) come from the “Love Potion”
motive in the viola line. The sextuplet sixteenth-note figure in beat four is lifted straight
from the second violin line.
W agner indicates dolce to highlight the warmth and emotion o f the
Liebesverklarungs motive, while Moszkowski writes soavemente and inserts a grace-note
just before the major sixth leap (Moszkowski, m. 41, beat 2; ex. 5-2b). The rolled tenth
in the left hand from the low F sharp (beat 1) also implies the registral breadth o f
W agner’s orchestration.
Moszkowski's pedaling keeps this highly chromatic texture clean but warm. By
sustaining the pedal through beat one o f m. 41, the ornament o f the Liebesverklarungs
motive remains lush and suave. Although the remainder o f the measure is left unpedaled,
the chromatic alto and tenor voices smoothly maintain the legato while their contrary
motion enriches the texture.
The one aspect M oszkowski cannot successfully compete against is the vividly
different timbres o f the various orchestral instruments used. In an attempt to bring out
parts o f the melodic structure that might otherwise become buried under the chromatic
texture, M oszkowski doubles the melodic line in places (m. 41, beats 3 and 4, from the
clarinet/bassoon doubling; ex. 5-2b). He also changes some o f W agner's inner lines to
create a more homogeneous and smooth texture (m. 41, beats 3 and 4, tenor voice from
the second violin and viola; ex. 5-2b). Although the first four sixteenth notes o f this line
204
(starting just after beat 3) have their foundation in the score, they are not generated by a
specific instrumental line or rhythm. This line, however, seems perfectly natural in its
seamless course. The beauty o f M oszkowski’s compositional effect is threefold: an
attractive inner-voice contrary motion with the alto line, a continuation o f forward
motion, and an enriched overall texture and sound quality. Although Moszkowski does
not have the luxury o f directing each musical line to a specific instrument, he takes the
musical techniques available to him on the piano and produces a different but satisfying
solution.
Volume and Energy Endurance
Example 5-3a-b occurs during a moment o f motivic transition and illustrates the
different purposes o f a string tremolo. From Moszkowski’s perspective, this type o f
orchestral writing poses significant challenges in terms o f volume sustainment, mood
depiction, and transmission o f energy.
Wagner's orchestration includes very little melodic motion in this passage, other
than the string tremolo figures (ex. 5-3a). The winds duplicate the rhythmic outline o f
the “Tristan” motive (Act I, scene V) in the first violin line while supplementing the
harmony. The crescendo throughout the orchestra leads to a subito p p on the downbeat
o f m. 51 and intensifies the harmonic drama. It is the string tremolo, however, that gives
a cushion o f sound and an illusion o f forward motion, both o f which Moszkowski
emulates in the piano (ex. 5-3b).
205
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Cl.
EH.
(p)
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P os.
Pk.
V I.
H r. V " 1- ____ ~
V
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206
6 __________ I ----------------------- ----------
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1 p do Ice 11 _ ; L cresc. molto

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----------- „ r >• 7^-1 =
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M oszkowski places the Tristan motive in the piano soprano line without any
tremolo figuration. The alto line is an interpolation o f the second violin part, but because
a keyboard instrument cannot create a tremolo on a single note, Moszkowski indicates a
tremolo alternating on D sharp and E sharp from the viola line. The tenor line is
enharmonically respelled and used in conjunction with the bass so that the two lines
support each other acoustically and rhythmically. The subtle harmonic shifts (such as in
the last two thirty-second notes o f beat two, m. 26; ex. 5-3a) are included in both their
correct rhythmic and notational orientation. Moszkowski adds misterioso to W agner’s
piano and delays arrival o f the crescendo molto by an entire measure (Wagner, m. 49; ex.
5-3b).
The combination o f these effects establishes an atmosphere o f intrigue and
suspense. By delaying the arrival o f the crescendo and altering it to a crescendo molto,
Moszkowski intensifies the mood. In addition, Moszkowski gives the semblance o f
motion by using the harmonic changes as a way o f simultaneously establishing rhythmic
and harmonic motion.
207
His greatest coup, however, appears in m. 50 (ex. 5-3b). In m. 28 (ex. 5-3a)
Wagner has the m ajority o f the orchestra playing two half notes, w ith only the horn,
bassoon, and bass clarinet having a dotted h alf note followed by a quarter note. As there
is very little rhythmic forward motion occurring at the high point o f the phrase, the string
tremolo and the dramatic orchestral crescendo propel the music onwards. Moszkowski
makes no attempt to compete with these quintessentially orchestral techniques by literally
prolonging the tremolo and creates his own pianistic solution instead.
In m. 50 (ex. 5-3b) Moszkowski writes solid five-note chords on the downbeat o f
beats one and three that act as harmonic anchors. These anchors are supported by the
tenor accents on E and E sharp on beats two and four. The remaining notes in the bass
and tenor lines solidify the harmonic intention and create a strong sense o f forward
motion with their expansive arpeggios. The right-hand thirty-second notes and sustaining
pedal intensify the drama and dynamic with their semi-chromatic, semi-arpeggiated
figuration. Although the notation is completely different from W agner’s, it is successful
because M oszkowski dynamically magnifies the passion o f the moment and capitalizes
on the rush o f excitement that is generated from the right-hand part and sustained by the
pedal.
The pedal catches the strong-beat chords and holds them until the end o f each
two-beat figuration, thus maintaining the musical texture and dynamic up until the last
possible moment. This stands in contrast to example 5-lb, M oszkowski m. 31, and
example 5-2b, Moszkowski mm. 40-41, where he intentionally lightens the texture and
clears out some o f the otherwise muddy notes by releasing the pedal in advance o f the
208
upcoming beat. This demonstrates that Moszkowski's pedaling is not merely generic but
carefully placed to glean the maximum pianistic, dynamic, and orchestral effects.
cmr,
BeLeuY S u l) n i l s d iliiv .f r J i
209
Jt
cresc.
#■
A.
Example 5-4a-b begins a long and emotionally tortuous fifteen-measure13 build
up to the final f f f climactic peak and the return o f the Love’s Bliss (Gliickseligkeit
motive).14 Throughout this section W agner maintains the same orchestral arrangement
with only minor adjustments. Beginning in m. 54, beat three, the harp pattern changes
from a sixteenth-note arpeggiated figure on beats one and three followed by a large chord
(sometimes rolled) on beats two and four to a continuously arpeggiated sixteenth pattern,
with either four or six sixteenth notes to a beat (ex. 5-4a). This new pattern remains
constant until the climax in m. 61. The double bass, bass clarinet, bassoon, first oboe,
first clarinet, trombone (beginning in m. 50), and trumpet (beginning in m. 50) have
legato half notes moving mostly stepwise.15 The violas and cellos fill out the harmonic
chords with measured triplet sixteenth-note subdivisions o f arpeggiated dotted eighth
13 This section is comprised o f Wagner, mm. 46-60; M oszkowski, mm. 68-82. The
climactic peak occurs in W agner, m. 61 and Moszkowski, m. 83. See ex. 5-10a and d.
14 Compare to W agner’s Prelude to Act II, m. 45; see also Newman, 242, 277. This
motive appears in W agner, m. 44; Moszkowski, m. 66.
15 One exception occurs in the English hom part, which shifts between the slow-moving
half-note pattern and the triplet eighth-note pattern o f the upper winds and strings.
2 10
notes, while the second oboe, second clarinet, homs, and violin have the driven but
seemingly unstable melody based on the chromatically rising Sehnsucht motive
(Yearning) heard in the Prelude (mm. 2-3).16
The entire passage is constructed as a series o f dynamic and rhythm ic ebbs and
flows as the melody struggles, m ostly chromatically, to climb higher. Some dynamic
relief briefly occurs in m. 54, beat three, with a subito p p throughout the orchestra. It is
at this point that the harp changes its figuration, the flutes enter, all the strings (except the
double bass) are scored with tremolo figures, and the second clarinet figure is taken over
by the first clarinets. The pp signifies the beginning o f the final climactic build-up that
culminates in W agner’s m. 61 (ex. 5-10a).
M oszkowski conscientiously follows Wagner's music w ith few changes
(Moszkowski, mm. 68-79). W hile the right-hand line is basically a reduction o f the
violin and wind parts, the left hand reinterprets the harp line and incorporates the
remaining harmonic notes not already included in the right-hand part. One interesting
change, however, is M oszkow ski’s reticence at writing notes on the strong beats
i <7
throughout this passage. M oszkowski clearly takes his cue for this change from the
melodic wind lines on the rising “Yearning” m otive.18 These parts are tied onto the
strong beats, while the corresponding string lines (m. 55) are not. B y emulating the wind
lines in the piano right hand, M oszkowski accentuates the rhythmic uncertainty that the
16 Interestingly, the second violin part that has the melodic figure is also given a tremolo
marking to add a special shimmer to the texture.
17 The sole exception occurs w ith the transfer o f the oboe one part into the piano-right-
hand inner voice. Although these notes occur on the downbeat, they have little melodic
significance.
18 The second oboe, English horn, and horn in E (the horn in F takes over in m. 50) have
this melodic line in mm. 46-50. The flute and clarinets have this figure in mm. 54-60.
211
tie establishes. Accordingly, Moszkowski omits the first sixteenth note o f each strong
beat in mm. 68-78, thereby heightening the musical drama and tension without making
substantial dynamic demands on the piano. This creates a strong sense o f anticipation
and desire without sacrificing dynamic resources necessary to capture the importance of
the impending climax in m. 83 (ex. 5-10d).
The left-hand harp-line representation creates a lush sound with an underlying
current o f motion without an overly thick texture. The right-hand octaves are fairly
spare, with only one or two additional notes occurring on the strong beats. The hands
maintain on average a three-and-a-half octave distance. This allows for a rich crescendo
through the use o f the piano's overtones, thus maximizing the dynamic effect o f the
climactic arrival in m. 83.
One striking difference between W agner and Moszkowski in this passage occurs
with the hem iola effect (Wagner, mm. 46-54, Moszkowski, mm. 68-76). The duple
string tremolo is a constant background figure, and when the melodic triplet line overlaps
with it there is an underlying rhythmic tension.19 The listener has only a subtle awareness
o f this effect because while there are only two continuously duple instruments (viola and
cello), there are five triplet-figure instrumental lines (flute, English horn, French horn,
and two violin sections). As a result the triplet figure comes across as the prominent
melodic factor.20
In M oszkowski's arrangement this pattern o f two-against-three becomes m uch
more pronounced. Because M oszkowski closely controls the dynamics, he weights the
19 For example: Wagner, m. 53, beat 2. Other preceding occurrences not included in ex.
5-4a are found in m. 48, beat 2; m. 50, beat 2; and m. 51, beats 2, 3, and 4.
20 Interestingly, most piano-vocal scores maintain only even sixteenth notes in the left
hand instead o f subdividing the dotted eighth note into triplet sixteenth notes.
212
hands more or less equally. The right-hand octaves balance beautifully against the single
notes in the left hand's quasi-arpeggiated figure. This stabilization means that neither
hand competes for prominence or clarity. The dichotomy between the ranges and
textures allows the performer to temper the dynamics. A by-product o f this clever
textural relationship is that the rhythmic friction becomes more pronounced. While
Wagner's orchestration glosses over this gesture, Moszkowski's more open and
transparent realization accentuates this effect in the left hand.
Although the left hand is scored with sextuplet sixteenth notes (Moszkowski, mm.
68, beat 3, through 79) Moszkowski alters the subdivision o f the beat to switch between
two groups o f triplet sixteenth notes and three groups o f two sixteenth notes. W hile the
choice o f the left-hand breakdown is intentional, it does not act in consort with the right-
hand rhythmic figuration consistently. Although the left-hand line is equally divided into
triplet sixteenth notes, it is the intervallic-grouping pattern o f the notes that causes this
shift from two groups o f three into three groups of two. Example 5-4b (Moszkowski, m.
75) shows a clear example o f this musical “syllabification” . Beats one and three are
essentially left-hand arpeggiations, minus the first sixteenth note. Beats two and four do
not divide neatly into triplet-arpeggio shapes but break down more smoothly in the hand
as groups o f two. M oszkowski’s fingering also supports a hand gesture that changes the
groupings from two to three groups. A technically supportive left-hand fingering would
be: 1-4,1-5,1-5 (Moszkowski, m. 75, beat 2, left hand).
W here the right-hand eighth-note triplets coincide with the three groups o f two
sixteenth notes in the left hand, a greater sense o f urgency and drive is created by the
intrinsic rhythmic increase from duplets to triplets (Moszkowski, m. 75, beat 2; ex. 5-4b).
213
However, in those places where the duple right-hand eighth notes are not (!) supported by
the left hand, the three groups o f two sixteenth notes generate a greater sense o f tension,
and rhythmic restraint occurs as the two-against-three stmggle is played out between the
hands (Moszkowski, m. 75, beat 4; ex. 5-4b). Thus a push-me-pull-you effect occurs
throughout this build-up from m. 68, beat three to m. 76.
In mm. 77-79 Moszkowski alters the left-hand pattern so that the sextuplet figure
is evenly divided into two groups o f three sixteenth notes per beat throughout the
measure. This heightens the intensity o f the climax by extending the periods o f rhythmic
stability (m. 77, beats 1-3; m. 78, beat 3 to m. 79, beat 1) and instability (m. 77, beat 4 to
m. 78, beat 2; m. 79, beats 2-4). Even though these patterns repeat in regular three-beat
groups, an overall feeling o f instability remains because the metrical pulse has shifted
01
from 4/4 to 6/4. Although this rhythmic shifting occurs in W agner’s score, it is more
pronounced here because o f M oszkowski's intentional lack o f textural layering. This
rhythmic combination is an important musical asset because it heightens tension and
drama without forcing the performer to utilize additional dynamic resources. Not only is
it challenging for a perform er to maintain a fifteen-measure build-up, but M oszkowski’s
climax in m. 83 is also o f such magnitude that the performer m ust have enough
remaining dynamic resources to further elevate this arrival.
M oszkowski breaks from Wagner's score in the final three measures before the
climactic arrival o f the Love’s Bliss motive (Moszkowski, m. 83; ex. 5-10d). He uses the
momentary metrical shift into 2/4 (Wagner, m. 58; ex. 5-5a; Moszkowski, m. 80; ex. 5-
5b) as his starting point for a new textural pattern. Although there is some basis for this
21 The common-time m eter does not change until m. 80, where it ultimately moves to 2/4.
This meter shift is shown in ex. 5-5b.
214
change in W agner, it has neither the same effect as M oszkowski's alteration, nor does it
occur in the 2/4 measure. W agner changes the harp pattern in m. 59 for the final two
measures preceding the climax. Here the harp has a parallel-twelfth22 arpeggiation,
followed in m. 60 by contrary-motion arpeggios.
M oszkowski's goal in these next seven measures (mm. 80-86) is to create a
thunderous wall o f sound. The climactic Love’s Bliss arrival in m. 83 (see ex. 5-10a and
d); is extremely powerful. The unrelenting harmonic and rhythm ic tension o f the build
up preceding it (M oszkowski, mm. 66-82) demands an overwhelming sense o f release.
Although a brief climactic arrival occurs in M oszkowski, m. 66, where the Love’s Bliss
motive first appears, the build-up that follows is even more fraught with desire and
anticipation.
Having judiciously restrained the dynamic growth in mm. 68-79, Moszkowski
changes the texture at m. 80 in preparation for the big climax (ex. 5-5b). H e dispenses
with the left-hand arpeggio figure and shifts the right-hand octave melody. The left hand
becomes a harmonic and dynamic stronghold. The four-note left-hand chords fill out
W agner's sparse harmonic outline and produce a rich, full sound. The right-hand part
outlines the melody, fills out the harmony, and contributes to the overall volume.
Although rhythmically the right hand is displaced from the beat by a triplet sixteenth
note, the yearning, chromatic melodic line is not completely abandoned.
22 This is essentially a parallel fifth plus an octave.
215
i - i t
H r,
(soldi*
fv h w u ll, in deni ti
C h.
Example 5-5b. M oszkowski, m. 80-82.
216
a—
q u anto po zsib ile
By skewing the impact o f the two hands, neither one competes for dynamic
supremacy. Instead each can more strongly maintain and increase the volume o f sound
by disguising the natural note decay. Moszkowski further minimizes the note decay by
scoring the left hand in eighth notes while the right hand fills in the "silent" areas with
sixteenth-note triplets.
Beginning in m. 79 Moszkowski repeats W agner’s crescendo o f mm. 7-8 and
adds quanto possibile in m. 81 (ex. 5-5b). This effect is further supported by the pedal
that is held through an entire half note o f ornamented chromaticism (mm. 80-81; ex. 5-
5b). In m. 82, beat 2 Moszkowski adds to the texture by combining the hands so that the
yearning melodic line covers a three-octave range. The added octave in the tenor line
(not in W agner’s score) further enhances the richness and quantity o f overtones.
M oszkowski’s uses these three measures to set up the climactic arrival in m. 83
without dynamically overshadowing it. By placing the heavier and thicker textures in the
left h a n d , he creates a rich and full-sounding foundation. He prevents the left-hand
figuration from becoming overpowering by keeping it rhythmically separate from the
217
right hand until m. 82, beat 2. If the right-hand triplet sixteenth notes were combined into
a solid block, they w ould form a four-note chord. By breaking up these chords and using
the pedal, M oszkowski keeps the harmonic richness yet maintains a lighter texture. Even
when he really needs to create a dynamic surge (m. 82, beats 2-4), M oszkowski does so
without diminishing the full climactic impact o f m. 83. He achieves this indicating that
the hands play simultaneously but notating them so that the strong parts o f the beat have
octave outlines, with subservient chordal filler on the weaker parts o f the beat. This gives
power and rhythmic drive without having an overly thick texture and leaves room for
dynamic expansion on the downbeat o fm . 83.
Texture
As the dynamics and drama subside from the previous climactic four measures
(Wagner, mm. 61-64; M oszkowski, mm. 83-86), Wagner writes a straightforward
orchestration. The winds have whole notes or tied notes, with the exception o f the
melodic lines in the flute, clarinet, and English horn parts. The cello, viola, and harp
have rising arpeggio inversions every h alf note, while the violin section has a descending
broken-chord figure (Wagner, mm. 65-67; ex. 5-6a). The activity becomes even less
pronounced in mm. 68-69. The remaining winds have only tied whole notes, the strings
have tremolando dotted h alf notes followed by five tremolo quarter notes. Only the harp
continues moving in the same sixteenth-note pattern. Wagner indicates diminuendo and
piu piano throughout these five measures.
218
219
con caltna
Moszkowski transforms these tremolando figurations into a swirling eddy o f
sound that melt away the harmonic angst and tension. M oszkowski ingeniously joins the
preceding four measures (mm. 83-86) o f quasi-unmetered bravura passagework (see ex.
5-1 Od; marked con somma bravura]) with a more regular, stable pattern that still has a
quasi-cadenza feel (m. 87). M erely imitating the strings w ith a tremolo figure on the
piano would create too much o f an abrupt textural shock as well as sound musically
unsatisfying. Instead M oszkowski combines the orchestral harmony into a single moving
left-hand sixteenth-note descending chord and writes an ethereal thirty-second note
sextuplet broken-chord figure. The right-hand figuration fills out the sound and
overtones as well as adds a highly atmospheric quality.
The magical atmosphere is sweetened with a p p sem pre raddolcendo (growing
calmer) thirty-second-note right-hand tremolo in the upper keyboard (mm. 88-89),23
while the left hand ascends in a sixteenth-note double-fifth and -sixth arpeggiated pattern
(m. 90). The left-hand ascent dissolves in a thirty-second note wave-like arpeggiated
pattern that involves the left hand crossing over the right hand (ex. 5-6b; m. 91). Hand
23 This figure occurs in the C6-C7 range.
220
crossing is always a special effect because o f the sparkling sound quality the left hand
creates when it reaches across the body. This is especially true in m. 91 because the
crossed left-hand note is the pinnacle o f the arpeggiated wave. Moszkowski also adds
con calma at the very end o f this measure in preparation for the final ten measures o f the
work. M oszkowski’s choice o f terminology is refreshing. Rather than using ritard, a
term that refers to speed, con calma indicates a change o f mood that m ay or may not have
a tempo change attached to it, leaving that choice to the perform er’s discretion.
Throughout this transcription Moszkowski stays intimately connected with
Wagner's score. There are no forays into freely composed sections as in his Tannhauser
and Carmen transcriptions. Instead Moszkowski limits him self to finding pianistic means
of expressing inherently orchestral gestures. This does not invalidate Moszkowski's work
as a composer or transcriber but rather supports his intention o f creating a pianistic
hommage to Wagner. If Moszkowski departs from Wagner's score, it is to produce a
pianistic solution that captures the essence o f Wagner's powerful score. Moszkowski's
recreation o f an orchestral palette o f sound on the piano remains at the forefront o f his
musical endeavors.
A Comparison o f Transcription Styles: Liszt, Tausig, and Moszkowski
One o f the fascinating aspects that emerges from a comparison o f transcriptions is
an understanding o f the individual transcriber’s sense o f musical importance. This is
achieved by an examination o f musical material that is included and excluded as well as
the addition o f any new ly composed material. The transcriber's musical philosophy
221
comes through in the way the notes are transferred from the orchestral score to the piano
medium. A comparison o f three additional Liebestod transcriptions illustrates the guiding
musical philosophies o f these composers.
A loose historical thread connects the four composers involved here. Franz Liszt
(1811-1886) first encountered Carl Tausig (1841-1871) in 1855 when the young pianist
was only fourteen years old, and was so impressed that he later sent him to Wagner.
Wagner, too, was captivated by this “terrible youth.”24 “Thus has m y childless marriage
been suddenly blessed with a rich catastrophe, and I enjoy rapid draughts o f parental
cares and troubles,” wrote W agner.25 Tausig was also an early influence on Moszkowski.
According to Alexander Moszkowski, he and Moritz heard Tausig perform two o f
Beethoven’s piano concertos sometime in the early 1860s in Breslau. Alexander called
Tausig a “young lion.”26
Liszt was another early influence on the Moszkowski brothers through Leopold
Damrosch27 who “brought the futurisms o f Liszt and Berlioz”28 to their ears through his
conducting skills. Approximately ten more years would pass before Moszkowski would
play for Liszt and earn the M aster’s admiration. The Damrosch connection was also re
established nearly thirty years later in M oszkowski’s life, when Leopold Dam rosch’s son,
Walter, came to study with him in 1891.29 Although it is doubtful that Tausig and
24 Harold C. Schonberg, The Great Pianists (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987), 257.
25 Schonberg, Great Pianists, 257.
26 Alexander M oszkowski, Panorama meines Lebens (Berlin: Fontane and Co., 1925),
32.
27 It was probably around this time that Damrosch went to Liszt to ask him for money so
he could get married. See Chapter 1, page 21, footnote 88.
28 Alexander M oszkowski, Panorama, 32.
29 Lucy Poate Stebbins and Richard Poate Stebbins, Let the People Sing (Durham, N.C.:
Duke University Press, 1945), 117.
222
Moszkowski ever met, a web o f influence and acquaintanceship surrounds Wagner, Liszt,
Tausig and Moszkowski.
Carl Tausig, "the iron eater" w ith "tes mains de bronze et des diamants," was
described as a "combination o f gypsy, wildness, repulsive rudeness, and prejudice."30

■ji
He was also Liszt's greatest pupil and arguably one o f the greatest pianists o f his day.
As Harold Schonberg noted, “most pianists and critics o f the day agreed that Tausig
carried pure virtuosity to heights that Liszt him self had only suggested.”32 Not only was
Tausig a virtuosic artist, but he was also a competent composer. Liszt first brought him
to the attention o f W agner, who thought very highly o f him, allowing Tausig to prepare
"the piano score o f Die Meistersinger" for him.33
In his transcription o f Liebesscene — Verklarung, Tausig incorporates his
virtuosic skills in the piano writing and freely adds extra measures here and there.34
W hile the melody remains important, the type o f background texture Tausig emphasizes
is often different from L iszt’s or Moszkowski's. These types o f alterations define
Tausig's individual style.
Unlike Liszt or Moszkowski, Tausig musically summarizes the entire opera in his
transcription. W hile M oszkowski seeks some unity by opening his transcription with
music from the Prelude, Tausig incorporates a significant portion o f the Prelude as well
as a few key motives that musically depict the storyline. This summary is suggested in
Tausig’s double title “Liebesscene — Verklarung,” which implies material from the Love
30 Schonberg, 259, 256. As described by Liszt.

31 Schonberg, 134.
32 Schonberg, 257.
33 Schonberg, 259.
34 Carl Tausig, '‘''Liebesscene— Verklarung” (M usica Obscura, 1914).
223
Scene through Transfiguration and accounts for the two hundred measures that precede
the entrance o f the Liebestod music.
Liszt has also shown tremendous restraint in his pianistic interpretation o f Isolde's
Liebestod .35 Unlike many o f his other operatic transcriptions where he uses a wide
variety o f bravura techniques, Liszt focuses his attention on sound quality rather than a
preeminent display o f technical prowess. The lack o f virtuosic display is striking because
there are several places where such events could easily take place, yet Liszt, perhaps even
more so than M oszkowski, remains tightly connected to W agner's score and composes
only a four-measure introduction.
The subito p p entrance o f the Liebestod motive (Wagner, m. 29) signals the harp’s
sextuplet sixteenth-note entrance (ex. 5-7a). The flutes and upper first violins serenely
rise above the orchestral texture, while the other strings support the motive with a thirty-
second-note tremolo. This is the third occurrence o f the Liebestod motive in the past
twenty-nine measures.
Liszt has already used tremolos (Liszt, mm. 5-12) and moving notes (Liszt, mm.
16-18) as accompaniment figures for the two previous motivic presentations. This time
he writes a harp-like accompaniment figure in the left hand that acknowledges Wagner's
instrumental changes without exactly emulating the harp figuration (Liszt, mm. 33-34,
ex. 5-7b). The left hand outlines the harp's harmonic line with rolled chords in both
hands, which Liszt marks arpeggiando?6 The melody is set at the top o f four-note
syncopated chords, and the p p dynamic is enhanced by the una corda pedal. Ordinarily,
35 Franz Liszt, Iso ld e ’s Liebestod, ed. Charles Suttoni (New York: Dover, 1982).
36 Most likely the absence o f the symbol for a rolled chord on beat two in the right hand
was an editorial oversight based on a larger musical context than is shown here. Simile
may be implied by the arpeggiando marking.
224
given the number o f notes per chord and the register in which they lie, performing this
passage pp would be challenging. Liszt overcomes this by incorporating both an
atmospheric and a rhythmic solution.
The atmospheric solution arises from the rolled chords. N ot only do they make it
possible to delicately play large numbers o f notes in a heavy register, but because the
melodic note is reserved for the final rolled note o f each right-hand chord, its presence
stands out from the texture w ith ease and color.
Liszt’s rhythmic solution is equally creative. There are some moving notes in the
hom, bassoon, and second clarinet part as well as the string tremolo figure, but it is the
harp line in Wagner's score that provides the main rhythmic activity. Liszt chooses not to
re-use the tremolo figure here because it would thicken the texture and increase the
dynamic volume unnecessarily. Instead he uses the syncopated rhythm in the right-hand
alto voice to play off against the left-hand eighth-note chords. The combination o f rolled
chords and m oving rhythm provides a lilting, flowing background for the singing line on
top.
Tausig also brings out the melody but with more challenging pyrotechnics (ex. 5-
7c). This is Tausig’s fourth presentation o f the Liebestod motive because he used it in his
own musical introduction that prefaced the final scene (Tausig, mm. 201-206). The first
two presentations (Tausig, mm. 201-206, 213-218) are similar in that the melody is
scored in its original register. The second motivic occurrence, however, has an
underlying tremolo in the alto and tenor voices (similar to Wagner's score in mm. 1-6),
while the first motivic presentation remains devoid o f any underlying rhythmic activity.
225
For the third presentation (Tausig, mm. 224-226), the harp part is rewritten, and
the melody is placed in staccato octaves beneath a slur. This type o fportato articulation
marking on the piano generally indicates a note release with the energy o f staccato but is
restrained by the legato mark.
The fourth presentation (ex. 5-7c), again has written legato melodic octaves in the
soprano line but without the staccato marks. The rolled octave on beat 2 adds an
expressive rubato element to the melody. The orchestral tremolo is bypassed, with the
exception o f the cello line37 that is spread throughout the bass and tenor lines,38 in favor
o f a more active interpretation o f Wagner's harp line. Rather than m erely reiterating
Wagner's sextuplet sixteenth-note harp figure, Tausig implements a more dramatic
solution using thirty-second notes for the first eighth note and sixteenth triplets for the
second eighth note (Tausig, m. 241, beats one and two). This written-out rubato
romanticizes Tausig's interpretation and is further enhanced by the b rief sigh-like
chromatic cascade divided between the two hands (Tausig, m. 241, beat 3). This sighing
figure is not found in W agner’s score.
By reversing the order o f the sixteenth and thirty-second notes (m. 242, beat 1)
the written-out rubato intensifies the excitement, pushing the m otion forward into beat 2.
This is again followed by the little chromatic sigh on beat 3. Although Tausig's score
respects the chief melodic outlines o f Wagner's composition, his overall interpretation
appears more concerned with filigree and musically expressive effects.
37 The cello F sharp half note, F sharp quarter note, G sharp and A sharp eighth notes in
m. 29.
38 The cello notes are found on the first note o f beat 1 (F sharp 2 range) the first note o f
beat 2 (F 3 range), the first note o f beat 3 (F sharp 4 range), and double stemmed as
eighth and sixteenth notes on beat 4.
226
/J/r Pon)
Example 5-7b. Liszt, mm. 33-34.
227
I pp poco crescen do -
I
f c a r p e g g ia n d o
P U T ia c orda
C
S&.
Example 5-7c. Tausig, mm. 241-42.
~*«j . J / ^ ‘ -r
pnco crrsr. _
3 1 3 14 3
«• f l f )
Example 5-7d. M oszkowski, mm. 51-52.
cr«c
2ta. 2o. sia. £S&. #
M oszkowski incorporates aspects from both Liszt and Tausig and produces a
more delicate version. The flute line is placed in the proper register but without Liszt’s
and Tausig’s melodic octave addition.39 The melody is set apart from the harmonic
texture by using an offbeat figure in the alto line that bears a striking resemblance to
39
Although the lower octave appears in the offbeat right-hand chords, its function is
harmonic.
228
Liszt's interpretation. These offbeat chords provide the same benefits to Moszkowski as
they did to Liszt. The melody line is easily played legato with a clear touch because no
other notes simultaneously compete for attention. The offbeat chords direct the forward
motion, maintain the p p , as well as fill out the texture and harmony. The left-hand part
recycles the harp rhythm, but after m. 51 beat 1, this becomes more o f a reinterpretation
of notes. In addition, Moszkowski continues to omit the first sextuplet sixteenth note o f
the majority o f the beats.40 W hile this recalls the earlier string parts (Wagner, mm. 12-
24), it does not accurately represent the current harp line. Moszkowski does, however,
acknowledge the moving cello line at the end o f m. 51 (Wagner, m. 29) by double
stemming the final two eighth notes in the bass voice 41
O f the three interpretations M oszkowski’s may be the most inclusive
representation o f W agner's score, but it is by no means the most inspiring. Even though
Tausig’s and Liszt's interpretations have their inconsistencies, their final products are
more musically captivating than M oszkowski’s. Liszt’s rolled chords and less busy
accompaniment retain the cantabile aura o f this passage, while Tausig’s varied rhythmic
accompaniment expresses more passion.
Example 5-8a-d highlights a conceptual difference between W agner and these
three transcribers. All three pianists view this climactic moment with greater force and
impact than Wagner, yet their individual interpretations produce strikingly different
results. This penultimate climactic moment begins with a five-measure crescendo that
40 This includes m. 51, beats 2 and 3; and m. 52, beats 1, 2 and 3.

41 Liszt also includes the cello line but in a less obvious manner by placing it beneath the
tenor chords. The last three tenor chords (Liszt, m. 33) are marked staccato w ith a slur,
while the bass line has three tenuto marks. Bringing out this cello line becom es very
difficult because both articulation marks have distinctive sounds and occur
simultaneously in the same hand.
229
starts pp (Wagner, mm. 39-43). The wind parts have a molto crescendo in mm. 42-43
(ex. 5-8a), but this leads to only a forte. Although marked with a crescendo the violin
trill on beat three o f m. 43 adds more to the musical drama than the overall dynamic. The
preceding sixteenth-note build-up in the first and second violins (m. 42, beat 3, through
m. 43, beat 3) keeps the motion pressing forward over Isolde's sustained E sharp on
klinget.
Liszt, Tausig, and Moszkowski recognize that fo rte on the piano is not equivalent
to a full orchestral forte. Among the three, Liszt’s interpretation is the most sonorous,
Tausig’s the most bravura-like, and M oszkowski’s the version that m ost closely adheres
to Wagner's score.
In order to maximize the quality and quantity o f sound, Liszt places a low thirty-
second-note G sharp tremolo in the left-hand (Liszt, m. 46, beat 3, ex. 5-8b). This
tremolo creates a cushion o f sound for the harmonic foundation. W hen the overtones
produced by the sympathetically vibrating strings are combined with the sustained pedal
and the right-hand chords, a richness o f sound highly reminiscent o f a full orchestral
texture is imparted.
Liszt does not imitate the un-metered violin trill (Wagner, m. 43, beat 3; ex, 5-8a)
but writes out a three-triplet sixteenth-note trill-like pattern that affords the pianist a
strong degree o f dynamic control. This is further supplemented by the arpeggiated left-
hand octave. Both hands individually receive a crescendo marking over beat three that is
underscored by the rinforzando appearing between the staves. This passage is so well
balanced and constructed that the performer easily produces a m ighty sound that is not
230
harshly percussive. Liszt's careful legato fingering plays a strong contributing role in this
lush and passionate moment.
Ifb
Ell
HI!
Bel
llnrfc. Tr. f \
231
Example 5-8b. Liszt, mm. 44-48.
. v io lin erase. .
*22). tre corde

sa. sa.
JL
r in /o r z .
Example 5-8c. Tausig, mm. 254-59.
232
Example 5-8d. M oszkowski, mm. 63-66.
cresc.
trillo
Tausig is also captivated by the passion o f this moment but chooses a more
flamboyant manner o f expression. Instead o f combining the string notes into a single
harmonic chord on each sixteenth-note (as Moszkowski and Liszt do), Tausig distributes
the notes between the two hands and writes a bravura-like passage o f sixteenth-note
triplets. The first note o f each group is articulated with a staccato, while the whole
passage is underscored with a molto crescendo that climaxes i n ( T a u s i g , m. 258, ex. 5-
8c). Tausig then turns this passage into a mini-cadenza by adding two additional
irregular extension measures (mm. 255-256). He follows a harmonic progression similar
to Wagner but elongates the length o f the chords within the progression.42
42 The low strings A sharp on beat 1 (Wagner, m. 42) is carried through for four beats
rather than one-and-a-half (see Tausig, m. 254, beat 3, through m. 254, beat 2). The G
sharp (Wagner, m. 42, beat 3, through m. 43, beat 1) and the F sharp (Wagner, m. 43,
beats 3 and 4) are also sustained for four beats each (see Tausig, m. 254, beat 3, through
m. 255, beat 2 for the G natural; and Tausig, m. 256, beat 3, through the end o f m. 257
for the F sharp).
233
The violin trill (marked trillo) is inserted in its rhythmically appropriate place
(Tausig, m. 257, beat 3; ex. 5-8c) and is supported by solid four-note eighth-note chords.
The actual climax (m. 258) retains the melody in octaves with an interpretation o f the
harp line underneath. In essence, Tausig melodramatically turns this lesser climax into a
much more dramatic affair with his own re-composition, including the addition o f
staccato articulation, as well as rhythmic and dynamic changes.
Moszkowski, as transcriber, continues to maintain a low personal profile,
remaining close to Wagner's score. Like Liszt, Moszkowski opts for a rumbling bass line
o f low octave tremolos (Moszkowski, mm. 64-65; ex. 5-8d). The right hand takes its cue
from the second violin part. The double-note chords (m. 64) swell into triads (m. 65) as
the dynamic and tessitura increase. Moszkowski indicates crescendo assai, as opposed to
the molto crescendo used by Liszt and Tausig.
Moszkowski's trill figure (m. 65; ex. 5-8d) is different from that o f both Liszt and
Tausig. Liszt's first version is metrically slower and more clearly defined. Tausig’s
supports the tremolo right-hand figure with solid four-note chords. M oszkowski, on the
other hand, emphasizes the sweep o f the gesture into m. 66 and supports the tremolo/trill
figure with a sex tup let-six teenth-note arpeggio in the left hand.
Liszt, however, did re-work this passage for his second version, published in
1875, into a faster, thirty-second-note trill using an easier, closed-position first-inversion
triad over eighth-note octaves instead o f sixteenth-note octaves in the left hand (ex. 5-9).
Although Tausig's trill uses the same triadic configuration as Liszt’s, he does not write
out each individual note o f the trill as in Liszt's second version. W hile Liszt’s 1875
234
version and Tausig's transcription result in the same rhythmic outcome, Tausig's allows
more rhythmic flexibility.
Exam ple 5-9. Liszt, 1875 revision o f m. 47.
V ariant in the second version

(1875):
M oszkowski's notational choices take him in a different direction. Unlike the
Liszt and Tausig versions, M oszkow ski’s right-hand trill figure uses an open-spaced
chord that has a thinner, weaker-sounding texture and demands more work from the
performer to m aintain the dynamic increase. Although the trill breaks into the faster
thirty-second notes, as do Liszt’s and Tausig’s, M oszkowski's left-hand arpeggio notation
does not enhance the sound o f the trill's speed. Since m. 60, beat 3, the bass-line
harmony has been moving slowly, albeit with thirty-second note octave tremolos.
Suddenly, as the trill enters, the left hand shifts to sextuplet sixteenth notes. Under
different circumstances this rising sixteenth-note arpeggiated figure would act as a strong
lead-in to a climactic moment. A t this moment, however, the left hand is forced to
compete for rhythmic attention with the right-hand thirty-second-note figure. Although
both hands are m oving rapidly, the ratio o f notes between the hands is 2:1 and thus
produces a calculated, heavier-feeling trill, the opposite o f the desired effect. Even if the
trill in M oszkowski's version is played with an unmeasured rhythm, as fast as possible,
there is still limited flexibility for this impassioned moment. Rhythmically Liszt's first
version and M oszkowski's left hand are the same, however, Liszt’s right hand matches
the left hand note for note, which allows the performer some flexibility for rubato.
235
j Ari1*. /*•»
K ll.. /
* K ll.
(K)
Hr
B el. f
-*>---
.Tr. / •
P o s .r
B lli.y
Pk
B r.
Isold
m Welt flicius
C l../
236
Example 5-1 Ob. Tausig, mm. 274-76.
Exam ple 5-1 Oc. Liszt, mm. 64-66.
8Ka bassa ad libit.
237
Example 5-1 Od. M oszkowski, mm. 82-84.
^|t| f
^ * ‘to. • * ‘Ea. *
—S i
5aT"------------
co» somma bravura ,
(loco)
fff
All three composers utilize enormous dynamic palettes at this final and most
explosive climax with the Love’s Bliss motive. Tausig, the flamboyant, is ironically the
most dynamically restrained and only builds up to a ff, although his lead-in to m. 275 is
dynamically, rhythmically, and texturally powerful (ex. 5-1 Ob). The thick alternating
four-note sextuplet-sixteenth-note chords generate intensity and strength and allow the
performer a modicum o f rubato before the downbeat o f the climax.
Tausig does not push the keyboard to its dynamic limits. The arrival o f his climax
has an initially strong impact with the rolled left-hand four-note chord and the right-hand
octave that is immediately followed by a descending cascade o f sextuplet sixteenth notes
in octaves. These arpeggios provide harmonic resonance and rhythm ic motion. A
potential performance pitfall would be to play these arpeggios w ith too harsh or
percussive a touch in an effort to extract more volume from them. These arpeggios sound
238
lighter and more open, as opposed to the dense chords that lead up to the climax in the
previous measure, because they are spaced at the interval o f an octave. An advantage to
using arpeggios at the octave is the inherent dynamic relaxation they provide. A
climactic peak can last only so long before it plateaus. Tausig did not intend an actual
diminuendo but recognized that in order to leave space for the next forward surge
(Tausig, m. 276, beat 4; ex. 5-10b) the performer must dynamically recede. The descent
o f the melodic contour (Tausig, m. 275, beat 4) encourages a slight dynamic lessening
which in the next measure dissolves into a second downward cascade o f sextuplet-
sixteenth-note octave arpeggios.
Although Tausig has made a strong climactic impact, he has not gone to any
dynamic extremes. This is very much in keeping with Wagner's own dynamically
restrained intentions. This climax in Wagner's score is marked f f in the harp part while
the remaining instruments have only /in d icatio n s (Wagner, m. 61; ex. 5-1 Oa). This
approach is in contrast to Liszt’s and M oszkowski’s, who w ere aim ing to envelop the
listener in a cloak o f sound.
Liszt refines W agner's score to its essential elements and reshapes them into a
powerful pianoforte rendition. Liszt reduces the wind and string parts into large four-
note chords in both hands. In order to avoid these chords from becoming too heavy, Liszt
articulates them with the portato-\\k.Q, slurred staccato marks.
Liszt’s pianistic solution matches his gargantuan perception o f the climax. His
ossia in m. 65 (ex. 5 -10c) functions as an equally difficult albeit different alternative to
musical material on the lower three staves. The non-ossia music has the m ost powerful
and strong dynamic volume. The ossia breaks up the monotony o f the right-hand
239
repeated chords with a rapid thirty-second-note descending four-octave arpeggio that
segues into the repeated right-hand chords for the second half o f the measure. This
alternate version, however, does not compete dynamically with the main version. Liszt
attempted another musical solution in his 1875 version (ex. 5-11).43
Exam ple 5-11. Liszt, mm. 65-66,1875 version
tremoL
O f Liszt’s three climactic possibilities the m ain version in the first edition scored
at a f f f level attains the greatest amount o f volume (Liszt m. 65, ex. 5-10c). The initial
left-hand chord is marked w ith an accent and a s f This passage is divided into three
staves, with the lower two staves played by the left hand. The top, right-hand stave is
filled with heavy, four-note sextuplet-sixteenth-note chords that begin f f f and crescendo.
The bass stave is similarly filled with f f f sextuplet sixteenth-note chords that are marked
with a second crescendo on beat 2 and culminate in an accent on beat 3. A range of
nearly six octaves is covered between the three staves. The overall result produces a
thunderous sound. The remaining melodic notes o f m. 65 are separated from the ongoing
chordal texture w ith accent marks, while the middle-stave chords are each further
punctuated with a roll.
43 W hile an ossia can present either a more difficult or simplified musical alternate, often
at the request o f the publisher, Liszt’s two versions in ex. 5-1 Oc have similar levels o f
difficulty, albeit w ith different technical demands.
240
Liszt's first-version ossia retains the same two lower staves but replaces the
pounding chords o f the upper stave with a cadenza-like thirty-second-note arpeggio that
sweeps down more than four octaves. The remaining tw o-and-a-half beats o f m. 65 stay
the same. The arpeggiation addition slightly alters the climactic character. Instead o f
erupting with a monumental force after the initial impact o f beat one, the climax
temporarily swirls in a thunderous waterfall o f sound before regaining its rhythmic
footing in the m iddle o f beat 2.
Both o f these two solutions, while dynamically advantageous and emotionally
powerful, have potential drawbacks. Rather than producing a tidal wave o f sound, the
primary chords in the first edition can easily become overly percussive and harsh with the
monotony o f a fifteen-consecutive-chord repetition. Liszt's first-edition ossia clearly
attempts to reduce the harshness by replacing the chords with an arpeggiated figure.
However, by removing the repeated C sharp minor chord and replacing it with a single
note arpeggiation, the performer encounters difficulty producing a balanced f f f sound in
the right hand as the left hand pounds out the E open-fifth chord in the bass.
Liszt's 1875 version produces a dynamically w ell-balanced solution. He rewrites
the same chords but notates them as tremolos in the two outer staves, thus avoiding any
unnecessary percussive banging. The rolled chords in the middle staves become solid,
pedal markings are added, and the f f f is removed, leaving the dynamic climax up to the
performer’s discretion (ex. 5-11). Although Liszt solves the issue o f climactic balance,
his second edition, in comparison with the first, seems rather mundane with its lack o f
rhythmic or textural variation.
241
O f the three composers, it is Moszkowski who produces the m ost dynamically
satisfying and virtuosic-sounding climax culminating on the first two beats o f m. 83 (ex
5-10d; cf. Wagner, m. 62; ex. 5-10a). Moszkowski makes extraordinary changes in the
piano part here. He divides the score into four staves with the right hand playing the first
and third staves and the left hand playing the second and fourth staves. Like Liszt, he
places a f f f at the beginning o f both pairs o f staves. After indicating crescendo quanto
possibile in m. 81, M oszkowski arrives in m. 83 with an accented f f f eighth-note chord
spanning three octaves. The powerful arrival o f this chord is short lived, so Moszkowski
resorts to his filling-in technique and writes a five-and-a-half-octave quasi-arpeggiated
thirty-second-note run to be played con somma bravura. The pedal catches the accented
f f f C sharp m inor chord and the E “Lydian” cadenza passage. M oszkowski scores the
next four measures with double staves. Moszkowski's filling-in technique thus allows the
performer to create the illusion o f a crescendo on a held note. The stronger dynamic
marking o ffff, as compared to W agner's f also gives the perform er license to use a
greater dynamic abandon.
M oszkowski's downbeat chord in m. 83 is virtually the same as Liszt's m. 65.44
Moszkowski, however, does not continuously repeat the chords in an effort to maintain
the volume. Instead, he grabs the downbeat chord in the pedal and immediately jum ps
down nearly six octaves for a bravura thirty-second-note passage that amplifies the bass
overtones as it dramatically ascends. The balance between the hands for the remainder o f
the measure is well designed w ith the three left-hand chords supporting the cadenza-like
right-hand undulating arpeggios.
44 Liszt’s left-hand bass note is a B, while M oszkowski’s is a C sharp.
242
M oszkowski's version o f this climax works better than Liszt's because
Moszkowski equally divides the dynamic and expressive responsibility between the two
hands and produces a dramatic, virtuosic-sounding passage. In Liszt's first version the
chords become too percussive and repetitious; in the ossia version the right hand's
cadenza-like descending arpeggio is overshadowed by the pounding left-hand chords. In
his 1875 version, the now well-balanced tremolo figures in both hands produce a less
original and less powerful solution.
Conclusion
Even though M oszkowski referred to the Tannhauser and Tristan works as
"paraphrases," he has shown very different conceptions o f this word's meaning. In
Tannhauser he more freely inserts his own musical ideas, much the same way as Tausig
does in the Tristan transcription. Tausig, however, remains much closer to W agner’s
score in the final ninety-three measures, adding only a few bars. The previous two
hundred measures o f his work had a more exploratory character, by providing a brief
musical synopsis o f the opera. Tausig also includes “O sink’ hem ieder, Nach der Liebe,”
sung by Tristan in Act II, among others. Curiously, Tausig includes the text in a tiny
typeface between the two staves. Ordinarily this would not be surprising, as Liszt often
insisted that the text be printed in the score, but in this instance none o f the three
transcribers has included either the text or Isolde’s vocal line from the Liebestod scene.
Because Isolde’s m elody is for the most part a rhythmic variant o f pitches played by the
orchestra, their omission o f her part implies that the Liebestod's orchestral
accompaniment is musically sufficient, thus making Isolde’s line superfluous.
243
All three composers remain firmly grounded in W agner’s Liebestod but with
some differences. Tausig’s transcription incorporates bravura and virtuosic effects along
with his own compositional additions, creating a transcription that is strongly reminiscent
o f the original opera and demonstrates his distinctive musical personality. Liszt and
Moszkowski remain more technically faithful to W agner’s score and concentrate their
efforts upon creating a more orchestral sound. In an unusual show o f restraint, Liszt
omits the use o f the bravura and cadenza-like passages in both versions o f his
transcription. This is a surprising compositional decision because m any o f Liszt’s other
operatic transcriptions, such as Rigoletto and Don Juan, among others, reflect his strong
propensity for such flamboyant virtuosic displays. Instead, Liszt transforms the solo
pianoforte into an orchestral instrument capable o f great expressivity and power.
Moszkowski blends aspects o f both Tausig and Liszt into his musical paraphrase.
He incorporates virtuosic and quasi-cadenza aspects without diminishing the orchestral
qualities o f the piano. By combining these facets Moszkowski provides enough technical
display to excite an audience. W hile the score requires a nimble performer, it does not
relegate the work solely to the realm o f the virtuoso artist. At the same time,
M oszkowski’s orchestral-sounding score sets this work apart from that o f an uninspired
or average composer and demonstrates the pianistic understanding that afforded him such
celebrity during his lifetime.
244
CHAPTER 6
CHANSONBO HEM E D E L 'OPERA C ARM EN D E GEORGES BIZET
Introduction
M oszkowski’s first foray into the piano transcription genre came later in his own
life in 1906 at the age o f fifty-two. For his musical subject he chose Georges Bizet’s
Carmen. This enduringly popular work spurred a musical frenzy that swept Paris after its
premiere in 1875 and continued into the early part o f the twentieth century. As Henry
Simon noted, “Although the ultra-refined sensibilities o f the Parisian critics o f the 1870s
were somewhat stunned by the opera’s rather stark realism for those days, the public
found the piece interesting and even exciting.” 1 Carmen received twenty-three
performances within the first ninety days o f its premiere at the Opera Comique, and “its
thousandth performance took place there thirteen years later on December 2 3 , 1904,”2
two years before M oszkowski’s transcription.
Carmen's popularity spawned a myriad o f piano transcriptions, one o f the earliest
o f which was the Paraphrase de Concert written by “the first great A merican woman
pianist”3 Julie Rive-King (1857-1937).4 At fifteen she left her birthplace o f Cincinnati
and went to Europe to study with Liszt, among others, returning in 1875 to America
where she “immediately started making an important contribution to the American
1 The Victor Book o f Opera, 13th ed., rev. Henry W. Simon (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1968), 81.
Victor Book o f Opera, 81.
3 Harold C. Schonberg, The Great Pianists (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1987), 265.
4 Julie Rive-King, Carmen. Opera de Bizet (St. Louis: Kunkel Bros., 1879).
245
musical scene.”3 It is possible that Rive-King heard one o f the Carmen performances at
the Opera Comique during its inaugural year and was inspired to write a transcription.
Her work includes the foreboding music at the end o f the Prelude to Act I, the Toreador’s
theme, Escamillo’s aria “Votre toast,” and the chorus o f the street boys (Act I, scene 3).
A second transcription appeared in the 1890s by the Czech-born teacher, Wilhelm
Kuhe (1823-1912). Entitled Carmen Fantasie brillante sur VOpera de Georges Bizet,6
this work shows compositional originality in the way Kuhe combines different motivic
aspects simultaneously. The main themes incorporated in K uhe’s Fantaisie are the
Habanera, Escamillo’s aria “Votre toast,” M icaela’s aria in Act III (without the
preceding recitative “C ’est des contrabandiers”), and the Toreador motive.
Four years before his death Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924) wrote a Kammer-
Fantasie iiber Bizets Carmen.1 This work uses motivic material from the chorus at the
beginning o f Act IV, Carm en and Don Jose’s duet in Act II, the Habanera, the chorus
and march from Act IV, and the duet and final chorus from Act IV. Busoni used these
motives as a starting point for his own variations and musical fantasies in this
transcription. The score abounds with performance instructions and pedaling

Q
indications. A “spiccato” mark appears over the piano right hand in the middle o f the
work (page 10). Although there are wedges over these notes as well, Busoni was clearly
5 Schonberg, 265.
6 Wilhelm Kuhe, Carmen Fantaisie brillante sur I 'Opera de Georges Bizet (Paris:
Choudens, 189?). The date o f publication is not listed on the score nor is a more specific
date available from the consulted library catalogues.
7 Ferruccio Busoni, Kammer-Fantasie iiber Bizets Carmen (Weisbaden: B reitkopf &
Hartel, 1920).
8 Busoni indicates several times to play a passage "con i due pedali.”
246
trying to have the piano more closely imitate the length and articulation o f this string
technique. This m arking is even more strikingly odd given Busoni’s musical philosophy.
He was much m ore interested in idea than in color, or display, or technique, or the
other things so dear to most pianists. He was one o f the first pianists to think
about music rather than merely to play it.9
Busoni’s Carmen transcription is one o f the more highly virtuosic and technically
demanding with perhaps the exception o f Vladimir Horowitz’s.
Busoni’s transcription influenced and inspired another composer, Kaikhosru
Shapuiji Sorabji (1892-1988), to write a Pastiche on the Habanera fro m ‘Carmen ' by
Bizet.10 Sorabji heard Busoni play his Kammer-Fantaisie in a performance at London’s
W igmore Hall on February 19, 1921,11 and was quite taken w ith this work. His review o f
the music showed a strong admiration for Busoni.
The Fantasia da Camera on Carmen . . . I have no hesitation in ranking among

the most important and significant works o f our time, and with them, Busoni
definitely takes his place with the five or six really great figures in contemporary
music. All the qualities o f Busoni as interpreter are revealed again in his
compositions — aristocratic dignity, austerity, and aloofness coupled with a
creative individuality o f a rarity, fastidiousness, and absolute originality in the
highest degree rem arkable.12
Sorabji composed his Pastiche the next year, in 1922. Unlike the other Carmen
transcriptions that use a variety o f motivic material, Sorabji’s work is built entirely
around the Habanera.
9 Schonberg, 368.
10 Kaikhosru Shapuiji Sorabji, Pastiche on the Habanera fro m ‘Carmen ’ by Bizet (Bath,
England: Sorabji M usic Archive, 1922). Critical edition by M arc-Andre Roberge, 1992.
11 Sorabji, Pastiche, ii.
12 Sorabji, ii. This excerpt from a review that Sorabji wrote has no publication
information. A second source states this quotation is from Larry Sitsky, Busoni and The
Piano (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1986), 76.
247
Vladimir Horowitz (1903-1989), the legendary Russian pianist, also wrote a
Carmen Paraphrase. Maurice Hinson refers to Horowitz’s transcription when he
comments that Busoni’s Carmen Fantasie leans more towards the “tradition o f the Liszt
fantasies (especially related to Liszt’s Don Juan fantasy) but is subtler than Vladimir
Horowitz’s treatment o f the same themes.”13 According to H orow itz’s biographer, Glenn
Plaskin, Horowitz never wanted this transcription published so he could maintain the
mystique o f his technical prowess.14
There is no evidence that other Carmen-based transcriptions had a direct
influence on Moszkowski, apart from Bizet’s own arrangement perhaps.15 While it is
conceivable that Moszkowski encountered Kuhe’s Fantaisie brilliant during one o f his
London visits, he is less likely to have come across the Rive-King transcription. In
addition to the absence o f motivic similarity between the Kuhe, Rive-King, and
M oszkowski’s transcriptions, the types o f transcription techniques, such as the use o f
octaves, virtuosic passage-work, and motivic re-composition, also bear little similarity.
M oszkowski’s Chanson Boheme establishes a compositional pattern adhered to in
all o f M oszkowski’s transcriptions. Moszkowski is drawn to the Gypsy Song in the
opening scene o f Act II. The bulk o f the transcription follows B izet’s framed strophic
form and music for this scene with occasional musical interjections by Moszkowski. For
his musical introduction to the Chanson Boheme Moszkowski takes inspiration from the
13 Maurice Hinson, The P ia n ist’s Guide to Transcriptions, Arrangement, and

Paraphrases (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), 28.
14 Glenn Plaskin, Horowitz - A Biography o f Vladimir Horowitz (New York: W. Morrow,
1983), 250.
15 Bizet wrote his own piano arrangement o f the score that was published by Choudens.
Hinson writes, 27, “The entire score has much to recommend it to the pianist.”
248
opening motive o f the Seguidilla, “Pres des remparts de Seville.” Tables 6-1 and 6-2
compare the formal outlines o f Bizet’s Gypsy Song and M oszkowski’s Chanson Boheme.
249
Table 6-1. Formal Outline. Act II Gypsy Song by Georges Bizet.
A (l-20) A' (21-38) coda (39-48)

Andantino quasi Allegretto J-1 0 0
verse 1 B (49-58) C (59-68) D (69-76) D' (77-87)

a tempo J —108
“Tra-la-la.
verse 2 B (88-98) C (99-108) D (109-116) D’ (117-128)

a tempo animato J —126*
“Tra-la-la...”
verse 3 B (129-138) C (139-148) D (149-156) D’ (157-167)

piu mosso J= 138
“Tra-la-la...”
A (168-185) c o d a (186-190)
presto J= 152
*Although the score indicates J= 176, this is most likely an editorial oversight because this marking is
out o f place with respect to Bizet’s other tempi in this scene
250
Table 6-2. Formal Outline. Chanson Boheme by Moritz Moszkowski.
Seguidilla motive
(mm. 1-57)
Allegretto
Act II Gypsy Song

A (58-77) A '(78-95) coda (96-105)
con moto
verse 1: B (106-115) C (116-125) D (126-133) D' (134-143) Moszkowski insertion (143-151)
ben ritmato vibrato e con calma tempo deciso (141)
verse 2: B (152-162) C (163-172) D (173-180) D1(181-190) Moszkowski insertion (192-205)
ben ritmato vibrato e con calma tempo deciso (188)
verse 3: B (206-213) C (214-226) D (227-234) D' (235-241) Moszkowski insertion (242-256)
poco animato Cadential Expansion (224-226)
A' (257-265) Moszkowski insertion (266-288)

a tempo un poco animato
251
Tempo Structure
Moszkowski generally does not seek to improve or greatly expand upon the
original work being transcribed. Instead, he finds discrete places in which to introduce
his own compositional material. In the case o f the Chanson Boheme Moszkowski uses
the transitions at the end o f each song verse for his musical insertions (see Table 6-2).
Two additional places Moszkowski expands upon Bizet’s music, besides the introduction
(Moszkowski, mm. 1-57), are a brief cadential expansion (Moszkowski, mm. 224-226),
and a lengthier coda at the end o f the transcription (Moszkowski, mm. 266-288). Apart
from these places Moszkowski adheres closely to B izet’s themes and structure.
An area o f difference relates to tempo markings. Bizet’s tempi are precise,
regular, and include metronome marks. Although Moszkowski’s overall tempo scheme
is similar to B izet’s, there are important and subtle differences. After establishing the
initial tempo o f Andantino quasi Allegretto (quarter note=100) at the beginning o f the
scene, Bizet changes the tempo at the start o f each “Tra-la-la-la” chorus (section D) and
at the final rendition o f the opening musical material (Bizet, m. 168; see Table 6-1,
section A). These tempo markings are clear and defined. In verse 1, section D, Bizet
indicates a tempo (quarter note=108), this is increased in verse 2, section D, to tempo
animato.'6 Verse 3, section D grows wilder with a piu mosso indication (quarter
16 There is an important misprint in the score. The tempo animato o f verse 2, section D is
assigned a metronome marking o f a quarter note =176. More likely B izet’s 7 was
confused with his 2, and the intended tempo marking was a quarter note=126. This fits in
with the gradual musical and emotional intensification, melds appropriately with the
surrounding tempo markings, and corresponds to modem performance practice. This
typographical error occurs both in thel989 Dover reprint from C.F. Peters edition, edited
by Kurt Soldan (Georges Bizet, Carmen [New York: Dover, 1989]; reprint o f first
edition, ed. Kurt Soldan [Leipzig: C. F. Peters, n.d.]) and the 1958 Schirmer piano-vocal
score: Georges Bizet, Carmen (New York: G. Schirmer, Inc., 1958).
252
note=138) and culminates with a presto marking (quarter note=152) when the opening
dance music returns (Bizet, m. 168).
Bizet keeps the same rhythmic, melodic, and dynamic structure throughout all
three verses because the changes in Carm en’s text and the different orchestral timbres
and instrumentations provide sufficient variation. The unchanging regularity o f a
ritardando or fermata at the end o f section C in each verse poses no problem because o f
his clever orchestral changes. Bizet uses the ritardando as a springboard to push the
tempo faster so that the beginning of each D section is increasingly accelerated (see Table
6 - 1).
W ithout vocal or orchestral resources at his disposal Moszkowski needs alternate
means o f generating intensity and drama within the confines o f B izet’s strophic structure.
M oszkowski’s method involves subtly altering both the large- and small-scale tempo plan
o f the work, as well as adding his own personal compositional touches by means o f his
insertions.
M oszkowski’s tempo changes do not always occur in the same places as Bizet’s,
nor do they offer precise tempo definitions. The transcription opens with motivic
material from the Seguidilla, marked with Bizet’s Allegretto tempo. W hen the opening
material from Act II occurs (Moszkowski, m. 58), Moszkowski adds a con moto that
makes the overall tempo slightly faster and more energetic than B izet’s Andantino quasi
Allegretto (Bizet, m .l). Despite this slight increase in the overall tempo, Moszkowski
does not follow exactly the same organizational pattern as Bizet. One o f the limitations
o f a strophic setting is its inherent regularity. With the absence o f the vocal line’s text,
Moszkowski has more freedom to bend the formal structure and thus avoid musical
253
stagnation with the repetition o f each verse. M oszkowski’s skill in this transcription is
evident in the w ay he alters the existing musical material so that it retains its freshness
while simultaneously maintaining Bizet’s intrinsic sound and structure.
Example 6-la-b shows the begiraimg o f the first “Tra-la-la-la” chorus and Bizet’s
first tempo increase. The orchestration is simple, and the num ber o f instruments is held
to a minimum (ex. 6 -la ).17 The entire string section is marked w ith p p p iz zic a ti} % The
harp, with its naturally plucked sound, is marked sempre pp, along w ith the tambourine.
Bizet divides the instruments into three groups: those with rocking eighth notes (harp
right hand and cello); those with eighth notes on the beat (harp left hand and double
bass); and those with eighth notes o ff the beat (tambourine, violins, and viola). The mix
of orchestral timbres provides a buoyant, energetic and light foundation for Carmen to
sing the chorus line p p by herself and still be clearly heard.
M oszkowski matches Bizet’s musical energy in a w ay that allows for
development in the upcoming two verses (section D, verses 2 and 3). This structurally
important moment begins to define M oszkowski’s alternate tempo organization for the
transcription. Although M oszkowski mimics B izet’s stmcture in the first verse and
precedes section D w ith a ritardando in m. 124 (Bizet, m. 66), he does not do so again.
He also refrains from using a new and faster tempo for each subsequent D section (see
Tables 6-1 and 6-2). M oszkowski looks for other compositional and pianistic techniques
17 The instrumentation for ex. 6 -la is clarinet I, bassoon, horns in E, tambourine, harp,
violin, viola, Carm en’s vocal line, cello, and double bass.
18 The string section has been marked pizzicato from the beginning o f this number.
Similarly, there is a previously marked sempre p p for those instruments that do not have
it indicated at the beginning o f this excerpt.
254
to replace B izet’s tempo fluctuations and amplify the growing drama and excitement.
Example 6 -lb demonstrates some o f the additional techniques M oszkowski employs.
Example 6 -la . Bizet, verse 1, section D, mm. 68-70.
a tempo
pp
frain ! tra
Example 6 -lb . M oszkowski, verse 1, section D, mm. 125-27.
vibrato e con calma
255
Immediately following the ritardando in m. 124 (Bizet, m. 66), Moszkowski
indicates a tempo for the vamp preceding the start o f the “Tra-la-la-la” chorus (section D,
m. 126; ex. 6-lb). He does not increase the tempo but returns it to its original speed.
Because Moszkowski is not using tempo as the driving force, he m ust find an alternate
way o f building the tension without increasing the dynamic. This necessity results in two
resourceful solutions. M oszkowski’s new “tempo” marking, refers more to mood than to
speed. The vibrato e con calma (Moszkowski, m. 126) is a most unusual yet effective
choice. The pedal marking here is also significant and arresting because it is the third
one thus far in the w ork.19
At first glance these three indications, vibrato, con calma, and the pedal, seem to
be at odds with one another. Vibrato is generally thought o f as a vocal or string term that
is not generally used in piano music. There were composers, however, especially Liszt,
20 • •
who used this term in piano repertoire to mean a vibrant or energetic sound. It is this
pianistic meaning to which Moszkowski is referring. At the same time, however,
Moszkowski does not want a sound that is too exuberant or vigorous, and he tempers the
vibrato with con calma indicating that the performer should evoke an energetic
atmosphere that is not too wild and, perhaps, avoid acceleration.
Simultaneously supporting this new mood is the articulation. Moszkowski
indicates staccato for the left hand and middle voices beneath a tempered tenuto soprano
line. The vibrant mood is further underscored by the extensive, color-enhancing pedal
19 The pedal is briefly marked for a color effect in the sequential passage at Moszkowski,
mm. 117 and 119.
20
Vibrato markings are found in M ut and Der Stiirmische Morgen from Liszt’s
transcription o f Schubert’s Winterreise.
256
markings.21 Bizet scores this section with string pizzicati that have a warm sound when
played with string vibrato. Moszkowski echoes the string pizzicato notes by writing
staccato marks over the bass arpeggios and supplements the warmth and ring o f the string
pizzicato with the underlying pedal marking. The combination o f the expression
marking, articulation, and pedaling thus produces a vibrant, energetic sound without
creating an excessive amount o f volume. The timbral transformation is striking and
natural, and eliminates the need for Bizet’s increase in speed.
For the first repetition o f section D (verse 2), Bizet uses virtually the same
orchestration as for verse 1 with the exception o f the long tied E in the horn part
(Example 6-2a, Bizet, m. 108ff.). The dynamic level is raised to mf, and the tempo is
marked animato.
Here M oszkowski reiterates the vibrato e con calma marking and retains the same
articulation from verse 1 but raises the technical demands and fullness o f sound with
more pedaling and additional notes (Example 6-2b, Moszkowski, m. 173ff.). Instead o f
arpeggiated staccato eighth notes in the left hand, Moszkowski writes two different left
hand patterns that alternate each measure. The first pattern (Moszkowski, mm. 173, 175,
177) uses offbeat staccato eighth-note chords in the middle register that rhythmically
mimic Bizet’s upper strings and tambourine parts. The second left-hand pattern
(Moszkowski, mm. 174, 176, 178) uses a quasi-arpeggiated sixteenth-note figure. Again,
Moszkowski holds the tempo steady, generating additional excitement and energy by
varying left-hand rhythmic gestures.
21 Although the remainder o f sections D and D ’ are not shown, the pedaling stays the
same. Each time the “Tra-la-la-la” text returns the pedal is indicated for the entire
measure.
257
Example 6-2a. Bizet, verse 2, section D, mm. 108-10.22
atempo animato. J =i?e.
I.Solo
* cjV d IE
atempo animato. J : we.

cii». r______
a-tait I ------ tra

pii»._______
p lx t.
22
The instrumentation is: flute, piccolo, oboe, clarinet, bassoons, horns, trumpet,
258
Example 6-2b. M oszkowski, verse 2, section D, mm. 173-75.
ta « e»« calma.
The pedaling is carefully notated such that a minimal amount o f muddiness is
encountered. Once the pedal is fully integrated into the texture at the first appearance o f
D (ex. 6-lb; m. 126ff.), it is used liberally. Its appearance in m. 173 (ex. 6-2b) therefore,
is less of a surprise. However, when combined with the more prominent after-beat effect
o f the middle voices (ex. 6-2b mm. 173, 175, and 177) the pedaling generates an
additional level o f vibrancy. The additional pedal markings in mm. 174, 176, and 178
smooth the soprano turn-figure while adding a lush sound quality when combined with
the left-hand sixteenth-note arpeggiation. Although this is a brief moment, only five
sixteenth-notes long, the listener is aware o f the thickening sound because the remainder
of the measure is devoid o f pedaling.
Moszkowski further intensifies the level o f virtuosity in the immediate repeat o f
the D refrain (mm. 181-88) by incorporating a parallel alto line o f descending sixteenth
notes (beat one o f mm. 182, 184, 186) while the left hand continues with its quasi-
arpeggiated sixteenth-note pattern. The left-hand’s staccato offbeat eighth-note chords
are combined with a continuous arpeggio and thereby thicken the texture (mm. 181,183,
185). These additional figurations raise the overall level o f activity and give the
trombone, tympani, triangle, drums and cymbals, tambourine, harp, violins, viola, the
three vocal parts o f Frasquita, Mercedes, Carmen, cellos, and double basses.
259
impression o f an animato tempo even though the pulse o f the work has not actually
increased.
Bizet marks the final reprise o f the “Tra-la-la-la” chorus phi mosso (m. 149) and
increases the volume with additional instrumentation (ex. 6-3a). The bassoon addition is
given a staccato rocking eighth-note line, while the horn retains its E pedal tone from
verse 2. The percussion section, now consisting o f tympani, triangle, and tambourine,
plays a prominent role. Although Bizet indicates forte throughout the orchestra, the
effect is more resounding because o f the additional instruments and their inherent
timbres. Carmen’s line is also given greater prominence with its f f marking.
Moszkowski marks the first two occurrences o f this D theme piano and vibrato e
con calma. His understated response in verse 3 indicates p ma molto marcando la
melodia. The quarter-note melody is embedded into the right-hand sixteenth-note
figuration and highlighted with accent marks as it transfers between hands in a Lisztian
manner (m. 227; ex. 6-3b; also in mm. 229, 231). The remaining soprano notes form an
arpeggiated sixteenth-note figure, not found in Bizet, while the left-hand eighth-note
arpeggios and pedal markings provide harmonic and dynamic support (mm 227, ex. 6-5b;
also in mm. 229, 231). The left-hand grace-note pick-up adds extra resonance and a
slight rubato delay to the melody. The lovely rolled downbeat left-hand chord (m. 228,
ex. 6-3b) lends flair to the melodic turn figure, as the right hand cascades down in a series
o f repeated fifths and sixths.
The pedal markings are also expanded in this final D section. In the first verse the
pedal is held only through the first measure o f the phrase; in the second verse it is
changed at the end o f the first measure but re-depressed for the melodic turn figure on
260
beat one o f the subsequent measure. In the third verse, the pedal is again held for the first
measure (m. 227, ex. 6-3b), re-depressed for beat one o f the next measure, and changed
again to be held for the final two beats o f that measure. Essentially, the pedal is held
throughout these measures with only an occasional quick change.
Exam ple 6-3a. Bizet, verse 3, section D, mm. 148-50.
Pin mosso. J =iss
i® P S P
f p f p f p f p f p f p f p f p f p j
Pin mosso. u s.
p if
261
Example 6-3b. M oszkowski, verse 3, section D mm. 227-28.
vma vi olio marcando la me.
Flourishes
Moszkowski avoids the repetitious vocal ritard and orchestral colla voce that
exists in one form or another at the end o f section C in all three verses (Bizet, mm. 66,
107, 147; ex. 6-4a). For the first verse Moszkowski mimics B izet’s framework and
indicates a ritardando followed by a tempo (mm. 124-25). For the second verse the
ritardando is omitted and replaced with a series o f smaller thirty-second-note flourishes
that lead into the second beat o f the measure (mm. 168-70; ex. 6-4b) culminating in a
giant sweep toward the cadence (mm. 171-72; ex. 6-4b). Thus instead o f following
Bizet’s regularly occurring ritardando, Moszkowski finds an alternate method o f
approaching the cadence that generates musical intensity. Although M oszkowski has
eliminated Bizet’s ritardando at the cadence, his substitution o f a more energetic and
driven passage reveals a significant aspect o f his transcription method.
The third repetition in verse 3 represents a structural highpoint in the scene. Bizet
omits the ritardando and colla voce markings and replaces them with a fermata on an
eighth-note rest while Carmen soars above w ith a ^ fo n her highest note o f the scene
(Bizet, m. 147; ex. 6-5a).
262
Example 6-4a. Bizet verse 2, section C, mm. 104-108.
collavoce atem po anim a
pp
vpp
in E I .S o lo
collavoce atem po anirru

VIZ 2.
poco
fizz.
poco
poco
P lu s v iv e cm to « t p lu s ra - pi-de. C e-la m on**U it, m o n t a i t ,m o n t a i t ,m o n - t a i t {

arco „_________ ________
poco
263
Example 6-4b. Moszkowski, verse 2, section C, mm. 164-72.
As Moszkowski does not have at his disposal the physical magnetism o f the
singer or the sustaining power o f either the voice or orchestra to arouse the audience’s
excitement, he needs to find a purely musical solution. In this case he expands the length
o f the cadence, thereby extracting greater musical tension and expectancy from a
harmonic standpoint (mm. 224-26, ex. 6-5b). This three-measure cadential expansion is
equivalent to Bizet’s m. 147. Bizet’s ii7 chord on the third beat o f m. 146 is expanded to
cover all three beats o f Moszkowski’s m. 224. Bizet’s I6/4 chord on beats 1 and 2 o f m.
147 is also broadened to cover all o f Moszkowski’s m. 225 as well as beats 1 and 2 o f m.
226 with the final dominant-seventh chord arriving on beat 3 o f m. 226.
264
Example 6-5a. Bizet, verse 3, section C, mm. 146-47.
cresc.
•es, Empor- ter par le tour-bil-lo
265
Example 6-5b. M oszkowski, verse 3, section C, mm. 220-27.
crrsr
lit. 3. km a molio marcando la me.
5a. 2
In addition to enlarging the cadence M oszkowski capitalizes on the dramatic
intensity by w riting a broken-chord figure (m. 224; ex. 6-5b) that segues into a visually
dramatic hand-crossing passage o f double-fifth and -sixth chords in the following
measure. This energetic passage is marked with a crescendo that climaxes on the large ff,
with subsequent accented tonic 6/4 and dominant-seventh chords in m. 226 (ex. 6-5b).
By drawing out the harmonic tension with his cadential expansion, Moszkowski
intensifies the drama without halting the forward m otion on a fermata as Bizet does. This
also dispels any potential boredom in this third repetition. Thus, by preserving Bizet’s
original scheme, M oszkowski affords the listener a simultaneous sense o f familiarity and
change.
M usical Introduction
M oszkowski uses a fragment o f B izet’s alluring Seguidilla them e (ex. 6-6a) to
build the introductory section o f his transcription (mm. 1-57; ex. 6-6b). Although
M oszkowski’s reasons for selecting this theme are unknown, his treatment o f it is unique.
266
While the Seguidilla is associated with Carmen’s seduction o f Don Jose, the Gypsy dance
portrays the beguiling and captivating gypsy mystique; both convey the undeniable gypsy
lure. Perhaps M oszkowski was attracted to the similarity o f the melodic contour between
the openings o f the Seguidilla and the Gypsy Dance.
Example 6-6a. Bizet, opening o f Seguidilla, Carmen, Act I, no. 10, mm. 1-4.
A U egretto. J> iie o .

F lu te I
PP
F lu te I I
Oboes
C larinets in A
Bassoons
in D
H orns
in B
T ru m p ets in A
Tym pani
H arp s
AUegretto
, is
Violins J
TP
Violins II
VP
Violas.
Don Jo se
Cellos
Basses
267
m. d.
dim.
Although Moszkowski retains Bizet’s time signature, tempo marking, and motivic
phrasing, the similarities end at this point. Bizet’s original key is raised a perfect
fourth from B minor to E minor so that at the conclusion o f this introductory section
Moszkowski will have an easy transition into the key o f the Gypsy Song (E minor).
Moszkowski begins with the opening fragment o f the Seguidilla and immediately
incorporates it into a quasi-canonic passage with a new, chromatic inner voice not found
in Bizet. This aria’s most recognizable rhythmic figuration is treated sequentially before
it finally reaches the bottom (F#2, m. 9) with a modulation to F# major. This arrival
erupts into a broken-chord thirty-second-note cadenza-like passage that sweeps up five
octaves and then cascades down six octaves with hand crossings (Moszkowski, mm. 9-
268
15). The dynamics remain understated throughout this musical turbulence, with only a
moderate crescendo — diminuendo that leads to a p p and a ferm ata (mm. 14-15).
Example 6-6c. M oszkow ski, mm. 38-57.
cresc.
* sa. * m
§P e£1§1
* :^ 5i * Sa®*5* *
st. f--
tflUJg
cresc. assai
» .g y ,
J. H. 4600.
?3 IsSflifB
269
Moszkowski composes a similar repeat o f this fifteen-measure passage in mm.
16-31. Here the harm ony seems to shift to E major following the fermata in m. 15.
Moszkowski remains in the key (or its parallel minor) in anticipation o f the Gypsy song
in its original key (m. 58). M oszkowski dispenses with any close motivic ties by m. 26
and segues into a purely cadenza-like mode. The earlier thirty-second-note broken-chord
passagework (mm. 9-12) is expanded in mm. 32-39, as M oszkowski moves through
various harmonies over a B pedal. This pedal tone is held in place for the rem ainder o f
this cadenza-like introduction (ex. 6-6c).
M oszkowski introduces a new type o f figuration in m. 40 (ex. 6-6c). A flowing
accompanimental left-hand arpeggiation is embellished w ith a quasi-arpeggiated right-
hand thirty-second-note figure. The left hand has an embedded melodic suspension on
beats 1 and 3 in mm. 41-43 that moves down by step. This leads into another figuration
in mm. 44-47 that accentuates the B pedal tone while the right-hand thirty-second-note
broken chords echo the left-hand first-inversion triads two octaves above. The
crescendo— diminuendo marking twice follows the melodic contour in two-measure
sequences (mm. 44-45, 46-47; ex. 6-6c).
Breaking from the relatively legato figurations, M oszkowski then writes an
energetic, articulated broken-chord figure (mm. 48-49). Even though no staccato marks
are present, the rapidity with which the perform er must release the left-hand thirty-second
notes produces nearly the same effect. There is also a piquancy in bringing out the quasi-
melodic, short, left-hand notes because they emphasize both harmonic and non-harmonic
tones. The crescendo assai lends a dramatic aura as the passage climaxes o n a ^ /z C
270
chord over a B pedal before a four-measure descending cascade in mm. 50-53 that leads
to the final transitional bars before the Gypsy Song.
Although this introductory section is thematically separate from the Gypsy Song,
it is filled with a variety o f cadenza-like figurations indicative o f M oszkowski’s
compositional skills. Throughout this transcription Moszkowski exhibits his inventive
and creative capacity o f re-telling the same basic story with different embellishments.
Strophic Enrichment
Examples 6-7 through 6-9 illustrate the inventive choices Moszkowski makes in a
strophic setting. Each verse retains its original character but with an added twist. B izet’s
changes are found m ostly in the orchestration, whereas M oszkow ski’s, with only one
contending instrument, display a variety o f alternatives.
M oszkowski echoes B izet’s simple setting in the first verse with only minor
changes (ex. 6-7a-b). The staccato left-hand chords recall the pizzicato viola and cello
lines. The middle voices (Moszkowski, mm. 106, 108, ex. 6-7b; m. 110) result from a
combination o f the harp and violin lines, with B izet’s orchestral registers altered. The
soprano line is Carm en’s vocal line, which Bizet marks con ritmo, indicating that Carmen
should sing with a m arked rhythm (ex. 6-7a; m. 48). M oszkowski’s notation, however,
says ben ritmato, i.e., with a rhythmic, very marked beat. The staccato marks throughout
the piano part reinforce the strong rhythmic pulse. The only significant difference
between the two scores is dynamic. Bizet indicates pp for the strings and ppp for the
flutes (ex. 6-7a; m. 48), while M oszkowski leaves the perform er a little more dynamic
control by m arking piano in m. 102, followed by a diminuendo in m. 103. No further
271
marking appears before Carm en’s vocal entrance (ben ritmato) w ith the pick-up to m.
106 .
Exam ple 6-7a. Bizet, section B, verse 1, mm. 48-52.
m. FI.
ppp
H arp H orns in C .
m
-JW-
H arp
V iol PP
Violins
La tringles des sistres tin- talent

Cello
PP
vec u n dclat mdtal- Et
In verse two, Bizet spices up the orchestration with a full wind section (ex. 6-8a).
The flutes’ staccato, grace-note, offbeat figure supports the oboe and clarinet parts. The
bassoons take over the cello and viola staccato rocking figure from verse 1. The horns
and trumpets enrich the sound with their tied ppp notes. B izet’s previous tempo change
in m. 68 (ex. 6-la) heightens the excitement for the second verse, thus making additional
dynamic increases unnecessary.
272
Example 6-7b. M oszkowski, section B, verse 1, mm. 105-09.
ben ritm a to.
3, 5
Although Moszkowski does not change the general tempo o f this section, he
accentuates it with additional musical features. As in verse one, M oszkowski does not
provide a specific dynamic marking but indicates a general diminuendo at the end o f his
preceding insertion (m. 149; see ex. 6-10 below). Similarly, the beginning o f Carm en’s
second verse is highlighted with another ben ritmato even though Bizet omits his
corresponding mark entirely. These changes, however, are superficial. M oszkowski’s
compositional ingenuity is more clearly depicted in his melodic and accompanimental
realization.
273
Example 6-8a. Bizet, section B, verse 2, mm. 88-92.
pp Picc
O b.
H o rn s PPP
T ru m j
Tromb.
T ym p.
Tamb.
H arp
. Violins
V io la
Les anneaux d t culvre e t d ’ar-yent R e lu is a ie a t s u r le s p e a u x b i* s t r ^* **

Cellos
274
hen ritmato
Although M oszkowski begins this passage w ith the same rocking staccato eighth-
note chord figure in the left hand as in verse one, he quickly abandons it in favor o f a new
pattern o f staccato fifths and sixths (mm. 154, 156, 158; ex. 6-8b). This wave-like pattern
breaks the monotony o f the rocking figure and moves directly into an added staccato
descending chromatic line (mm. 155, 157). This descending tenor line is doubled an
octave above, within the right-hand chords.
The right-hand line also demonstrates M oszkowski’s compositional
resourcefulness. Carm en’s melody is now doubled at the octave. At the same time, the
interior o f these melodic octaves fills harmonic and rhythmic roles, amplifying the
harmony and accentuating the offbeat rhythmic wind figure (ex. 6-8b). M oszkowski’s
only significant omission at this moment is the absence o f B izet’s flute grace-note figure
(ex. 6-8a), which, with all the various changes introduced by Moszkowski, is not strongly
missed.
275
M oszkowski’s precise pedal markings also reflect his interpretive vision. Verse
1, section B, has a complete absence o f pedal, while verse 2 (ex. 6-8b) is filled with
specific pedaling instructions. In mm. 151-52 Moszkowski indicates a single held pedal
for the duration o f the introductory staccato vamp. This mutes the staccato articulation
effect and heightens the contrast o f the melodic entrance in m. 153. The sharp, detached
articulation needed for Carmen’s entrance is more directly emphasized by the dryness o f
the pedal’s absence. Moszkowski thickens the texture with pedal in m. 154, but the
sound remains clear because there are no non-harmonic tones. The pedal is sparingly
marked in m. 155, for, as soon as the chromatic inner voice gains prominence,
Moszkowski removes the pedal completely on beat 2.
M oszkowski’s attention to detail is evident in the varied and novel ways he
transcribes B izet’s score. Despite the lack o f a tempo change, M oszkowski’s other
alterations produce an invigorated second verse, leaving room for dramatic dynamic
growth without overextending the piano’s dynamic capabilities later on.
To energize the orchestral drama at the outset o f verse 3 Bizet terminates the
string pizzicato eighth-note figure and replaces it with a bowed sixteenth-note tremolo
figure over a quasi-arpeggiated violin line (Bizet, mm. 128-34; ex. 6-9a). In place o f the
winds’ offbeat staccato figure Bizet writes a measure o f rest followed by a p p sixteenth-
note turning figure that has a staccato subito f on the last eighth-note o f the bar (Bizet,
mm. 130,132, 134). The simultaneous ring in the percussion instruments (triangle,
tambourine, and timpani) further colors this snap. At the same time Bizet keeps the
overall dynamic level fairly quiet, thus minimizing direct competition with the vocal line.
276
Example 6-9a. Bizet, section B, verse 3, mm. 128-32.
a rc o
L e s B o b i m i e s s & t o u r 'd e b ras D e le u rs in s tru m e n ts f a is a ie n t ra - ge, E t
arco
277
Poco animato.
3
5
33 5
3
2 2
Moszkowski indicates his first major tempo change, poco animato, at the
beginning o f this third verse (m. 206; ex. 6-9b). The soprano line carries a staccato
outline o f Carm en’s m elody B conflated with theme C, while the alto line pivots back and
forth in sixteenth notes around a pedal on B (see Table 6-1 for themes). Moszkowski
omits the vocal turn figure (Bizet mm. 132-134; ex. 6-9a) and substitutes either a more
driving repeated sixteenth-note figure or a wave-like sixteenth-note arpeggiated figure
(mm. 207, 209, 211; ex. 6-9b). The pedal usage is minimized to retain the clarity and
sharpness of the note attacks. Only in the arpeggiated measures, where there are no non
harmonic tones, does M oszkowski fill out the texture with the pedal (mm. 209, 211).
Moszkowski carefully regulates the dynamic expansion throughout this
transcription while m aintaining B izet’s strophic framework. These limitations require
M oszkowski to search out alternate means o f expression. Examples 6-7 through 6-9
above illustrate some o f these. In example 6-7b M oszkowski emulates B izet’s score
closely. Although he chooses to refrain from increasing the tempo before verse 2 (ex. 6-
8b), his use o f melodic octaves, chromatic inner voicings, and varied accompaniment
patterns elevates the m usical drama without much deviation from B izet’s original. For
278
the third verse (ex. 6-9b) Moszkowski, like Bizet, has a tempo increase, although it
occurs later than in Bizet. At the same time, M oszkowski’s driving, repeated-note alto-
voice figuration combines with the animato tempo to generate a palpable excitement. If
Moszkowski had instituted an increased tempo in verse 2, the listener would have
expected an additional increase for verse 3. Moszkowski thus occasions a genuine thrust
o f excitement, even though this is the third rendition o f this material. No two verses are
notationally alike, yet the melody is always clear and articulated. The technical skill
required to carry off this transcription successfully a tempo is significant but not
unattainable by capable pianists.
M oszkow ski’s Insertions
Retaining a close connection to the original work is important for Moszkowski.
This philosophy guides him when choosing the location and style for his occasional
musical inserts, which is why his insertions generally occur at transition points, where
their presence will be less intrusive on the pre-existing musical fabric. The Chanson
Boheme’s structure illustrates this theory.
Example 6-10 shows M oszkowski’s first musical insertion into Bizet’s Gypsy
Dance during the transition between verses 1 and 2. This is the perfect opportunity for
Moszkowski to add a little musical zing without unduly disturbing Bizet’s musical
structure. At the conclusion o f the D' material (Bizet, m. 84; Moszkowski, m. 141), Bizet
writes a four-measure transition that signifies a temporary pause in the dance itself and
briefly winds down the activity before the beginning o f verse 2. This is due in part to the
279
pp dynamic, sparse orchestration, and descending melodic figure that travels down
through the woodwinds (Bizet, mm. 84-87).
Exam ple 6-10. M oszkow ski, mm. 141-51.
Tempo d eciso.
A ,. At T jS . j ', ~~ ' y „ .m Z
—0 ----------------U J -
, i 7 J
W . % ' t -7 & .2 ■■■¥— iX ± — i p . ' i ........
4 = = = = t = = = k = = = ± 4 = = £ = t = j
■ ~ r . r . t 1
i n t i
• ! 1 i J J
d ji~ ------------ s = 2 = r y T - i . . . : J = i * »
- r i ---------S ~ € •
i* • f
---------— , f y f f 4 - i
" j — ^ ~
CO — ---------* ■ » -------- 3 — tA £ 4 ------ 3 ------
\J ^ -0 -0 rf
p T creac. % i
i * *
m T T "
■■A t r M l
r f t ....... I ■■ r — - i —
m.c.
dim .
After indicating vibrato e con calma for the D and D' sections o f the verse,
instead o f B izet’s faster tempo (ex. 6-lb), Moszkowski marks this transition Tempo
deciso and adds a rinforzando between the staves (m. 141; ex. 6-10). These markings
indicate that the performer should not view this section as a winding-down transition but
should maintain and strengthen the musical resolve. This attitude is further echoed in the
melodic line that does not follow Bizet’s four-octave descending pattern but, rather,
jumps around to contrasting registers.
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At the conclusion o f this four-measure passage (mm. 141-44) M oszkowski
embarks on an extended six-measure transitional passage (mm. 145-51), with an extra
measure o f vamping tacked onto the beginning o f verse 2 (ex. 6-10). Although this
passage is comprised o f eighth-note staccato double-thirds, -fourths, and -fifths in both
hands, it is not especially virtuosic. Instead, the impression o f traveling upwards
suddenly gives w ay to peals o f musical “laughter” with a hand-crossing passage jocularly
peppered with grace notes. To avert any accidental accelerando, M oszkowski indicates
morendo just before the arrival o f verse 2 (m. 150). The additional measure (m. 151)
during the segue into verse 2 blurs the line between what is M oszkowski and what is
Bizet. It also allows the right hand to begin the first few upper chords o f the vamp before
starting the melody in m. 153. That Moszkowski has deliberately and deftly obscured the
distinction between the two composers’ music in this transitional section is a trademark
o f his transcription technique.
For his next musical insertion, Moszkowski uses the same structural point at the
second verse’s end, after D'. This insert is both longer and more cadenza-like than the
previous one. The fourteen-measure bravura passage (mm. 192-205; ex. 6-11)
metamorphoses through several motivic sections before leading into verse 3
The first section uses a combination o f chromatically alternating broken chords
(mm. 192-95), augmented with a visually dramatic hand-crossing effect. The overall
rising outline o f this passage is enhanced with a molto crescendo m arking and culminates
on a sffz diminished-seventh chord in m. 196, the strongest dynamic m arking o f the piece.
This chord ignites a nearly five-octave downward arpeggiated sixteenth-note passage that
dissolves into a b rief chromatic scale (mm. 196-97).
The next two measures (mm. 198-99) have a decidedly Spanish flavor, with
Flamenco-like accents on beats 1 and 3 combined w ith the connecting, sixteenth-note
sweep that tapers away w ith a poco diminuendo. These bass accents are abruptly shifted
offbeat with the slurred left-hand eighth notes and tremolo-like right-hand sixteenth notes
(mm. 200-01). M oszkowski dynamically reflects the chromatic rise and descent o f the
bass and alto lines w ith a crescendo— diminuendo mark.
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The right-hand sixteenth-note “tremolo” then sm oothly turns into a four-measure
altemating-hand passage composed entirely o f repeated notes (mm. 202-205). This
repeated-note device figures prominently in verse 3 and serves as the connecting tissue
between M oszkow ski’s musical insertion and the return to Bizet’s composition, as well
as increasing the level o f virtuosity. This is all part o f M oszkowski’s intensifying scheme
in this transcription. Instead o f revving up the dynamics and tempo, he uses dramatic and
virtuosic figurations, thus avoiding the potential stagnation o f a strophic setting.
The penultimate insert occurs at the end o f section D in verse 3. Spanning fifteen
measures, it is M oszkow ski’s longest incursion into B izet’s score thus far. He forgoes
the four-measure transitional phrase that Bizet uses to connect the end o f section D to the
beginning o f section A (Bizet, mm. 164-67), and immediately moves from the final
choral line (Bizet, m. 163; Moszkowski, m. 241) into a cadenza-like insert (ex. 6-12).
Like the previous insert, this passage is also constructed from a series o f motivic
fragments. No significant harmonic activity takes place; instead, M oszkowski propels
the range to a higher plateau and increases the dynamic volume with more cadenza-like
figurations. Moszkowski cleverly segues from the end o f verse 3 ’s “Tra-la-la-la” chorus
(D) into this transition by finishing the final chorus phrase with a descending quasi-
chromatic answer in the treble-clef left-hand inner part (m. 242). He solidifies the
broken-octave wave-like motive by repeating it again in mm. 243-44. This wave-like
motive begins a third ascent in m. 245 and continues upward to an E7 in m. 248. Once
this peak is reached, Moszkowski changes the pattern and writes a six-measure falling-
and-rising broken-chord pattern w ith this high E as its pinnacle. This cadenza-like figure
moves from the tonic in E major (mm. 249-50), to E m inor (mm. 251-52). Then, after
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two measures on V, there follow another two measures o f offbeat dominant-seventh
block chords in the right-hand and chromatic eighth-note octaves in the left hand (mm.
255-56). The p iu f in m. 253 is followed by a crescendo in m. 256 that leads into a.ff at
the return o f the A section in the next measure.
Exam ple 6-12. M oszkow ski, mm. 241-56.
cresc.
This dramatic sounding passage is not overly virtuosic. The clever way
Moszkowski piggy-backs onto B izet’s phrase (mm. 241-42) makes this seem like a
natural extension o f the work. The poco ritardando (m. 256) allows the return o f the A
R eprod u ced with permission o f the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
284
section to appear more dramatic by accentuating the dichotomy between the slackening
tempo and the faster poco animato tempo in m. 257.
E xam ple 6-13. M oszkow ski, mm. 263-88.
23 Errata (not shown): m. 260, right hand, third note, needs to have D sharp (cf. m. 242).
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Although M oszkowski departs from Bizet’s score entirely for the final twenty-
two-measure coda (ex. 6-13), he retains the flavor o f the w ork through motivic
references. Rather than tying his cadenza-like coda onto the end o f a theme as he did at
the end o f verse 1 (ex. 6-10), Moszkowski gently alters and extends B izet’s sequence of
the returning A material. The root-position jum ping-□ □ □ □ □ □ o f theme A (m. 257) are
retained, but they subtly shift between second-inversion triads and root position chords
(mm. 267, 269, 271; ex. 6-13). The transitional measures between these jum ping chords
provide a natural link w ith their arpeggiated left-hand eighth-note chords o f fifths and
sixths, while a descending sixteenth-note inner voice is harmonically punctuated by
additional soprano notes.
Moszkowski then moves into a different type o f broken-chord figuration (mm.
273-280) that centers around a pre-cadential harmonic motion, further heightening the
expectation o f a grandiose final cadence. There is, however, an odd feature in this eight-
measure sequence. In an effort to give the left hand a passing or neighbor tone,
Moszkowski writes in an E sharp on beat 3 o f m. 274 and m. 276. Although this note is
clearly intended to resolve quickly into the F sharp o f the dominant harmony, its
appearance is so jarring and unpleasant, given Bizet’s harmonic fabric, that it sounds like
a wrong note no m atter how fleetingly it is played or how quickly the note is released
with the indicated pedaling change.
The final descending passagework (mm. 281-84), in typical “M oszkowski-esque”
fashion, marked con tutta forza, gathers momentum and dynamic volume before the
closing chords. Because the hands are alternating each note or chord, this passage can be
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performed with brilliance and clarity, lending an air o f virtuosity guaranteed to bring the
audience to its feet.
Conclusion
W hy did Moszkowski deviate from Bizet’s structural plan o f the Gypsy Song in
the final section o f the work? Although one cannot be certain, it is clear that throughout
this transcription Moszkowski wanted to differentiate between the various repetitive
strophes. W hile Moszkowski admirably demonstrated a myriad o f development
possibilities in the strophic sections o f the song, perhaps the technically challenging
double-third sixteenth-note twirling figure (m. 130; ex. 6-9a) had a limited transcriptional
potential that had already been exhausted. Or perhaps he felt that the final trill figure in
the winds and percussion (Bizet, mm. 188-89) would not translate effectively into a
pianistic medium. In either case, Moszkowski retained enough o f a motivic connection
to B izet’s Gypsy Song so that his final sixteen measures (mm. 273-88; ex. 6-13) of
cadenza-like material provide a suitably rousing and dramatic ending.
Another possibility for M oszkowski’s structural alteration may be found when
considering his transcription as a whole. Although he does not begin and end the work
with the same musical material as Bizet, he does begin and end the transcription with
cadenza-like material. The beginning material (mm. 1-57; most o f which is shown in ex.
6-6b-c) is essentially a long cadenza loosely based on the opening statement o f the
Seguidilla from Act I, while the bravura closing is derived from motives o f the Gypsy
Song.
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M oszkowski’s decision to write a transcription not comprised o f a m edley o f
tunes, such as the versions o f Rive-King, Kuhe, and Busoni, is not unusual. After all,
Sorabji concentrated his transcription solely on the Habanera theme. W hat is
exceptional, however, is the treatment o f the themes he selects. After a nearly sixty-
measure-long free composition unfettered by B izet’s actual Seguidilla, Moszkowski
launches into an almost verbatim account o f the Gypsy Song. It is not as if the Gypsy
Song needs additional musical material to help balance it, for it functions quite well as a
stand-alone piece in the opera.
Another unanswered question revolves around M oszkowski’s thematic choice.
What muse guided M oszkowski to choose these particular themes from the opera, as
there are so many memorable and catchy tunes? Perhaps Moszkowski felt he would have
greater compositional flexibility because these themes had not been extensively used in
previous instrumental transcriptions (not just those for the piano). Perhaps he was
intrigued by the tunes’ exotic sounds and the thematic connections between the Seguidilla
and Gypsy Song. In addition, both pieces focus on the opera’s title character.
Despite these conundrums, Moszkowski demonstrates great sensitivity and care in
this transcription. His dynamic, tempo, and structural changes do not detract from
B izet’s original composition. Despite the absence o f singer and text, Moszkowski
musically portrays the drama and intensifying emotion in an engaging, wholly pianistic
style.
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CHAPTER 7
FINAL THOUGHTS
Reception
Although M oritz Moszkowski acquired an enormous following during his lifetime
and was extremely well regarded as a composer, pianist, and teacher, his virtuosic piano
transcriptions were not accorded the same veneration. They were perform ed infrequently
if at all.1 The only known public announcement o f a performance o f M oszkow ski’s
piano transcriptions within his lifetime is o f the Chanson de Boheme (1906), perform ed
by Moritz Rosenthal.2 It remains unknown whether Moszkowski publicly perform ed his
own transcriptions, although it seems unlikely, given the paucity o f his solo recitals in the
early twentieth century. The lack o f documented performances is less a statement on the
intrinsic quality o f these works than it is a reflection on musical, social, and political
events o f that time.
One measure o f M oszkow ski’s popularity and the esteem with which he was
regarded can be seen in his choice o f musical dedications. Although it is not yet known
whether Moszkowski was personally acquainted with all o f his dedicatees, it is a
reasonable assumption, given the number o f dedicatees who came to his rescue when his
health faltered and his finances were in ruin. Among the pianists involved in either
M oszkowski’s relief committee or the 1921 Carnegie Hall benefit concert, eight --seven
1 Thus far no contemporaneous announcements or copies o f concert program s including

the three transcriptions examined here have been discovered.
2 The Musical Courier 52, no. 14 (April 4, 1906): 24. (See chapter 1, page 43, footnote
184). Actual proof o f this concert's occurrence has not yet been verified.
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men and one wom an—had received dedications from M oszkowski.3 The remaining
musicians to whom M oszkowski had dedicated a work but whose direct relationship with
Moszkowski has yet to be discovered include Joseph W ieniawski,4 Felix Dreyshock,5
Hans von Btilow,6 M ax Pauer,7 Joseph Casimir Hofmann,8 M oritz Rosenthal,9 Ferruccio
Busoni,10 and M ark H am bourg.11 There is also the dedication o f his Six Morceaux pour
Piano, op. 81, no. 1 (Schott, 1909), to his student J. Joachim Nin.
Unfortunately, the publication o f the two W agner transcriptions was ill-timed, as
they coincided with the outbreak o f W orld W ar I in 1914. Like the Chanson de Boheme
these transcriptions have merit and deserve a more prominent place in the concert hall,
yet it is not surprising that they were relegated to virtual oblivion. Several factors may
have played a role in banishing these works from the musical forefront. W ith the onset o f
W orld W ar I less tim e was devoted to musical diversions. Furthermore, M oszkowski’s
W agnerian subject m atter did not earn these pieces any popularity because o f the strong
anti-German sentiment raging through France and elsewhere at this time.
3 Alexander Lambert {Huit M orceaux Characteristiques, op. 36, no. 8, Hainauer, 1885);
Fannie Bloomfield-Zeisler (.Drei Klavierstiicke, op. 55, Peters, 1895); Josef Lhevinne (Six
Morceaux pour Piano, op. 81, no. 4, Schott, 1909); Ossip Gabrilowitsch {Six Morceaux
pour Piano, op. 81, no. 5, Schott, 1909); Sigismond de Stojowski {Prelude and Fugue fo r
String Orchestra, op. 85, Peters, 1911); Isidor Philipp {Grande Valse de Concert, op. 88,
Presser, 1912); H arold Bauer {12 Etudes de Piano, op. 92, Enoch, 1915); Leopold
Godowsky {Six M orceaux p o u r Piano, op. 81, no. 6, Schott, 1909).
4 Joseph W ieniawski {Huit M orceaux Characteristiques, op. 36, no. 4, Hainauer, 1885).
5 Felix Dreyshock {Zwei Clavierstiicke, op. 45, no. 1, Peters, 1888).
6 Hans von Billow {Deuxieme Suite d'Orchestre, Hainauer, 1890), “Temoignage de
profonde admiration et de vive sympathie.”
7 Max Pauer {Deux Etudes de Concert, op. 48, no. 1, Peters, 1890).
8 Joseph Casimir Hofmann (Piano Concerto, op. 59, Peters, 1898).
9 M oritz Rosenthal {Chanson Boheme, Hainauer, 1906).
10 Ferruccio Busoni {Isoldens Tod, Peters, 1914).
11 M ark H ambourg {Nachkomponierte Szene aus Tannhauser von Richard Wagner,
Peters, 1914).
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A third element contributing to the apparently limited number o f performances
was the overall demise o f the transcription genre as a whole. The transcription was “the
nineteenth-century equivalent o f a recording,” 12 and with the phonograph’s rise in
popularity the need for a self-propelled musical memento, such as a transcription,
arrangement, fantasie, or paraphrase, became less necessary. Although transcriptions
continued to be performed in the concert hall, a decline in their stature began to occur. In
addition, as Charles Suttoni observes:
[These types o f works] had so saturated earlier concert life that the form was
overexposed. There was little left for it to say. Coupled with this fact was a
profound and far-reaching shift in the concert programming o f the time to more
“serious” works: Beethoven sonatas, for instance . . . . The fantasies, as a result,
fell into deep disrepute.13
While these virtuosic transcriptions faded from the public’s view, M oszkowski’s simpler
arrangements o f excerpts o f famous melodies published in The Etude during 1918 and
1919 helped disseminate the music o f classical masters for another generation o f aspiring
pianists (see list in chapter 2, Table 2-2, 80-81).
Distinctive Transcription Traits
M oszkow ski’s transcription style is best described as an “art o f intelligent
choices.” His strategic decisions about what to include or exclude, highlight or de-
emphasize are balanced by a sense o f musical proportion with a clear understanding o f
pianistic practicalities and limitations. Furthermore, his musical insertions show a deep
respect for the composer whose work he is transcribing, as demonstrated by the great
10
Charles Suttoni, Introduction to the Dover Edition, L is z t’s Fantasies (New York:
Dover, 1981), ii.
1 Suttoni,
3 * L iszt's Fantasies, ii.
291
lengths to which he goes in order to disguise these digressions. Although M oszkowski’s
transcriptions never reach the flamboyant heights o f Liszt’s or Tausig’s, neither do they
belong to the realm o f artless arrangements. Instead, his works demonstrate a sense o f
refinement and musical sophistication with a dose o f panache.
From the analyses in the previous chapters we can make some generalizations
about M oszkowski’s particular transcription technique. When working with an
extremely complex or dense orchestral texture, Moszkowski pares down the musical
material to its most essential elements so that only the lines needed to maintain
continuity, timbral resemblance, and dynamics are retained. Moszkowski goes to great
efforts to preserve a melodic line with its original articulation. W hen normal
transcription techniques do not reproduce a satisfactory melodic statement,Moszkowski
creates technical alternatives, such as hand crossings or divisions o f the melodic line
between the two hands that uphold the melodic integrity, often promoting the correct
articulation. Tempo fluctuations and special performance indications, such as ritardando
and feroce, are used to enhance musical expression for the pianoforte. At times he makes
slight rhythmic alterations o f melodies for the purpose o f pianistic practicality.
Moszkowski will change the articulation to mimic the requisite texture and orchestral
sound and remain pianistically practical. He also adds rhythmic-melodic gestures to the
piano score that emulate an orchestral effect, such as the dynamic swell on a held note or
the “rustling” o f a string tremolo. W hen Moszkowski adds his own musical insertions, he
is discreet in such musical departures, always disguising them. In his quest for an
evocative transcription M oszkowski freely goes beyond the score o f the original
composition in order to realize the musical essence o f the work for the pianoforte.
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Musical Insertions
M oszkowski’s transcriptions have several distinctive traits. The most striking
feature is how all three o f the virtuosic transcriptions are neither full-blown fantasies nor
straight transcriptions but, rather, meld characteristics from these genres. In m any ways
these transcriptions are similar to Liszt’s late operatic transcriptions because they are, as
Suttoni suggests, essentially “inimitable and idiomatic translations o f orchestral language
into that o f the piano.” 14 M oszkowski’s pianistic translations are m agnificently
constructed to exploit the maximum effect from the piano. His use o f range, figuration,
pedaling, articulation, and other markings (often quite idiosyncratic) are most effective in
evoking the orchestral timbres on the piano. At the same time, M oszkowski finds
deceptive and clever ways to insert his own fantasy-like material.
Moszkowski takes special care in composing these fantasy-like passages so they
closely resemble the original compostion, often re-working previously heard melodic
material. In the Chanson de Boheme, Moszkowski frequently takes B izet’s sequences
and extends them with his own newly-composed material. These extensions link directly
into Bizet’s music in a musical sleight-of-hand that blurs the line betw een B izet’s music
and Moszkowski’s addition (mm. 241-48, ex. 6-12; mm. 263-72, ex. 6-13 [the sequence
begins in m. 257]).
M oszkowski’s insertions in the Tannhduser transcription (1914) utilize previously
heard motives that are paired with a similar (or the same) accompanimental figure. This
technique provides a “deception” o f musical association because the listener recognizes
14 Suttoni, Liszt Fantasies, ii.
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the accompaniment pattern and the W agnerian motive with which it is paired. That these
motives do not occur precisely at this point in W agner’s score is known only to W agner
experts and aficionados, leaving m ost listeners unaware o f the musical infiltration.15
The introduction to Isoldens Tod (1914) demonstrates another o f M oszkowski’s
deception techniques. Although M oszkowski remains remarkably close to W agner’s
score once the Liebestod scene begins, his introduction is a masterful deception. The
introduction initially reproduces W agner’s music from the opening prelude o f the opera,
but by the twelfth measure Moszkowski digresses and creates a sequence from this
material that generates the remainder o f the introduction, so that he only mimics
W agner’s style. This insertional characteristic draws on techniques from both the
Carmen and Tannhduser transcriptions.
In the Carmen transcription, Moszkowski uses a sequence from the original score
as a starting point for a musical insertion (exx. 6-12 and 6-13), and in the Tannhduser
transcription, he uses the original motivic material as the compositional starting place for
his insertions. In the opening o f Isoldens Tod, M oszkowski combines these two
techniques.
Overall, M oszkowski's transcription style defies normal categorizations. His
insertions retain enough musical cohesion with the rest o f the transcription that they
prevent these works from being categorized as fantasies in the Lisztian sense. At the
same time, these insertions provide enough musical digression that belie the w orks’
definition as arrangements. Furthermore, because M oszkowski does not freely use a
variety o f themes in a m usically narrative fashion, these works are not true paraphrases.
15 Section VI o f the Tannhduser transcription (mm. 325-61) provides a clear example

(chapter 4, 185-91).
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In one sense these virtuosic transcriptions can be thought o f as “expanded
homages” or extended “arrangements” with many elements o f “paraphrase.” Like Liszt’s
transcriptions o f the Beethoven symphonies and the Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique,
Moszkowski’s transcriptions show a deep respect for the original orchestration and form.
He utilizes the full resources o f the piano in his search for an orchestral sounding
keyboard style. His approach entails not only the careful use o f range, tempo,
articulation, pedal, and dynamics but also the poignant application o f musically
descriptive terms added throughout the transcriptions. These qualities are reflected in the
concept o f “homage.”
The musical insertions add a level o f virtuosity that otherwise would not be
present but never deviate so far from their source that they develop into something new
and fantasy-like. Instead, these musical accretions expand upon the surrounding thematic
material by using either motivic connections or virtuosic figuration to enhance the
musical narrative. In the Tannhduser transcription Moszkowski maintains a strong
motivic connection in his most extensive insertion in section VI o f the transcription (see
chapter 4, 185-91) by writing an ending that is based on previously heard Wagnerian
themes. The Carmen transcription insertions use more virtuosic and bravura types o f
figuration (exx. 6-10 through 6-13) that are grafted onto Bizet’s pre-existing melodic
framework. Even M oszkowski’s introductions to the Carmen and Tristan transcriptions
have their foundations in musical material previously heard in the respective operas (see
chapter 5,196-07; and chapter 6, 267-69, ex. 6-6 a-c). Therefore, with such loyal,
continuous linkage to the original work, M oszkowski’s pianoforte translations and
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited w ithout permission.
295
musical insertions demonstrate a transcription process best described as an “expanded
homage.”
Structural Commonalities and Dissimilarities
Moszkowski regards the beginnings or endings o f his transcriptions as places for
greater compositional freedom. Both the Isoldens Tod and Carmen transcriptions begin
with extended introductory sections. The introduction to Isoldens Tod functions in a
quasi-narrative fashion by setting up some o f the important themes, while the Carmen
introduction merely prefaces the transcription with a snippet from the beginning o f the
Seguidilla. Because Moszkowski seems not to view these introductions as integral to the
original work, he allows him self a greater sense o f compositional freedom here. A
similar philosophy holds true for the final twenty-two measures o f the Carmen
transcription and for roughly the final thirty-one measures o f the Tannhduser
transcription.
Moszkowski expresses this compositional freedom in the beginning o f the
Carmen transcription by incorporating an imitative melodic style that then breaks off into
more fanciful and virtuosic figurations. The Isoldens Tod introduction is more demure
and refined in character. Moszkowski repeats sequentially the opening theme from the
opera's Act I prelude but intensifies the underlying current o f tension so that it peaks in
mm. 17-18, before the beginning o f the Liebestod. There are a few introductory
measures at the beginning o f the Tannhduser transcription, but M oszkowski uses them to
increase the "wind-up" effect that leads into the “Riotous Shout” (theme 6) and does not
provide a lengthy introductory section.
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M oszkowski’s closing sections o f the Carmen and Tannhduser transcriptions use
dissimilar techniques but achieve the same effect. In the former, a series o f different
sequential figurations builds the excitement up to the final note of the transcription. In
the Tannhduser transcription, M oszkowski revisits some o f the themes presented earlier
in Wagner's Paris version and briefly sequences them. He then intersperses these
thematic sequences with virtuosic figurations so that a powerful and dramatic effect leads
into 343). Moszkowski uses this climactic moment to turn the dynamic tide
toward a gradual diminuendo in anticipation o f reconnecting to W agner's original score at
the end o f the transcription. Because M oszkowski is not constrained b y either W agner’s
or Bizet's scores, he exerts compositional freedom by cleverly juxtaposing both thematic
and non-thematic material to create vigorous, exciting conclusions to his transcriptions.
“Filling-in” Technique
Moszkowski tailors his transcriptional response to each orchestral challenge on an
individual basis. His "filling-in" technique is one o f his greatest transcriptional
achievements. It allows him to translate various orchestral qualities into a pianistic
medium. Some o f the more challenging transcriptional reproductions are found in
orchestral-held notes and string tremolo figures. A held note in the orchestra can have a
variety o f effects and include various perform ance instructions (such as crescendo). A
held note on the piano has only one outcome after its initial impact: decay.
Moszkowski's notational scoring and terminology, however, create a pianistic
solution to an intrinsically orchestral characteristic. The "sweep" is one o f M oszkowski's
favorite transcriptional gestures. This not only fills in the dead space w ith sound, but it
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allows for a controlled dynamic change and a dramatic intensification. The most
concentrated occurrence o f this technique occurs in Isoldens Tod (ex. 5-1 Od; mm. 82-84)
where Moszkowski contends with the powerful climactic moment and its orchestral
volume. The combination of the pedal supporting the fff, the accented eight-note chord,
the virtuosic filler thirty-second notes, and the musical instruction con somma bravura
creates the illusion o f a wash o f sound. Ideally no single note o f the virtuosic filler
passage would stand out, so that the listener is aware only o f pure sound and color.
When the work is optimally performed, the listener should have a sense o f time
momentarily standing still.
The Tannhduser transcription also exhibits several sweeping flourishes, an
example o f which is found in the first appearance o f the Senses’ M astering Spell theme
(ex. 4-2b, m. 106).16 M oszkowski divides the melody between the hands so that the
maximum "filling-in" and sweep are achieved. The orchestration does not have any o f
the metered or un-metered sixteenth notes that Moszkowski runs between the hands. By
writing the final two beats of the measures in an un-metered pattern, Moszkowski creates
a built-in accelerando that is enhanced with the appassionato mark. This particular
figuration augments the listener's own sense o f being overpowered by the Senses’
Mastering Spell itself. Thus Moszkowski pianistically captures the essence o f thematic
emotion through his "filling-in" technique.
This same technique has a more subtle appearance in the Carmen transcription
because Bizet's energetic score does not utilize an abundance o f held orchestral notes. In
addition to the pre-cadential flourish (ex. 6-4b, mm. 171-72), the variety o f Moszkowski's
16 See the Thematic Examples in chapter 3. The Senses ‘ M astering Spell is theme 13.
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"filling-in" technique is best seen in the accompanimental changes o f each subsequent
strophe. The most striking example can be seen in a comparison o f the D sections at the
end o f each strophe. In verse 1 Moszkowski uses simple arpeggiated eighth notes (ex. 6-
lb, mm. 126-33). This becomes more elaborate and intense in verse 2 as the offbeat
eighth-note chords alternate with a quasi-chromatic sixteenth-note arpeggiation (ex. 6-2b,
mm. 173-80). For the final verse Moszkowski injects the melody into the left-hand
arpeggiated eighth-note pattern and gives the right hand a more virtuosic role (ex. 6-3b,
mm. 227-34). These variants not only fill in Bizet's intentionally sparse accompaniment
but also amplify the dramatic undercurrent o f the Gypsy Dance. Moszkowski's
modifications also provide a necessary distinctiveness to each o f the strophic repetitions
in the absence o f text.
Moszkowski's "filling-in" techniques serve a variety o f purposes. In addition to
extending the piano's dynamic capabilities and augmenting the emotional and dramatic
context, they also translate a uniquely orchestral property into a meaningful, carefully
tailored pianistic expression.
Distinctive Terminology
Although Moszkowski's distinctive expressive terms do not depict specific textual
meanings, they enhance the overall musical and textural atmosphere. Tables 7-1 through
7-3 summarize the descriptive musical terms that Moszkowski sprinkles throughout his
transcriptions, as compared w ith the analogous passages in the original work.
M oszkowski’s choice o f expressive terminology reveals another attribute o f his
transcription technique. For example, where the original composer simply places a
299
dynamic marking, M oszkowski uses a mood-enhancing term, such as misterioso or
feroce. Thus his musical vocabulary more vividly renders an orchestral-like fabric on the
pianoforte. This descriptive vocabulary expands M oszkowski’s expressive pianistic
palette by generating an appropriate emotional and technical response from the pianist.
The use o f these expressive terms is not limited only to his piano transcriptions; similar
expressions are also found in his original piano solo compositions.
300
Isoldens Tod
(1914)
Moszkowski Wagner
cantando (m. 31) molto crescendo (m. 9)
soavemente (m. 41) dolce (m. 14)
misterioso (m. 48) P (m. 26)
armonioso (m. 55) PP (m. 33)
crescendo quanto possibile (mm. 79-82) crescendo (mm. 57-60)
con somma bravura (m. 83 & m. 85) f (m. 61)
sempre raddolcendo (m. 88) diminuendo (m. 66)
con calma — dolcissimo (mm. 91-92) (m. 69)

Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper Tannhauser von Richard Wagner

(1914)
Moszkowski Wagner
inartellato (m. 57) staccato (Suppl. II, m. 28)
il basso marcatissimo (mm. 68-70) p iu f (mm. 39-41)
appassionato ( m .106) ff (m. 77)
con somma passione (m. 132) ff (m. 103)
feroce (m. 142) f z and f f (m. 113)
strepitoso f f f (m. 175) fff (m. 146)
con bravura (m. 196) — (m. 167)
velocissimo ppp (m. 238 & m. 288) — (m. 225 & m. 275)
amoroso (m .255) dolcissimo (m. 242)
soavemente (m. 266) sehrzart (m. 253)

302
Chanson de Boheme de VOpera de Georges Bizet

(1906)
Moszkowski Bizet
ben ritmato (m. 106) con ritmo (m. 49)
vibrato e con calma (m. 126 & m. 173) — (m. 69 & m. 109)
Tempo deciso, rinforzando (m.141) PP (m. 84)
ben ritmato (m. 153) sempre p (m. 88)
Tempo deciso, rinforzando (m. 188) f (m. 124)
p ma molto marcando la melodia (m. 227) /a n d # (m. 149)
con tutta forza (m. 281) (similar to Bizet’s p in / i n m. 186)

303
Some o f M oszkowski’s most striking vocabulary usage occurs with words not
typically thought o f as pianistic, such as the string terms martellato and vibrato. Like
Liszt, Moszkowski uses these terms to produce special pianistic effects in both his solo
and transcriptional compositions. For example, the term martellato in the Tannhauser
transcription is not Moszkowski's first use o f a pianistic m artellato}1 In 1885, nearly
thirty years before this transcription, he experimented with this term in his well-known
Caprice Espagnole, op. 37 (mm. 456-84). As in the Tannhauser transcription, this term
appears in an alternating-chord passage. Similarly, the term vibrato, which occurs in
both the Tannhauser and Carmen transcriptions,18 also appears in his 1889 Guitarre, op.
45, no. 2 (mm. 44-51). In all three instances, Moszkowski employs this term to elicit
more energy in the rendition o f the melodic line.
Descriptive terms such as con bravura and con somma bravura are also used
similarly for sweeping gestures and climaxes throughout M oszkowski's oeuvre. The con
bravura passage in the Tannhauser transcription (mm. 196-202) has a similar sweeping
motion to the con bravura passage in the 1885 En automne, op. 36, no. 4 (mm. 22-32).
The con somma bravura passages in both Isoldens Tod and Caprice Espagnole epitomize
extremely powerful climaxes. The Isoldens Tod climax occurs in mm. 83-86 (ex. 5-10d),
while the Caprice Espagnole passage lasts thirty-seven measures (mm. 456-92). In the
Caprice Espagnole M oszkowski combines the con somma bravura and martellato
passage with an increased tempo marking o f Presto at this moment, thereby creating a
highly dramatic and driven ending to one o f his enduringly popular works for solo piano.
17 See ex. 4-6b.

18For Tannhauser see ex. 4-17b. For Carmen see ex. 6-2b.
304
A crescendo technique exploited by Moszkowski uses alternating hands to
generate a large dynamic surge. His crescendo quanto possibile in Isoldens Tod and
Caprice Espagnole demonstrates this procedure. In Isoldens Tod M oszkowski begins
with the hands working together in m. 79 before separating them in mm. 80-81; he then
joins them together for the final surge to the climax in m. 82 (ex. 5-5b, mm. 79-82).
Because the texture and pedal markings are fairly thick M oszkowski's scoring produces a
more legato, all-encompassing wave o f sound that mimics an orchestral-like atmosphere.
In the Caprice Espagnole (mm. 409-23) Moszkowski uses a thinner texture o f rapidly
alternating sixteenth notes to create a highly articulated, rapid-fire sound. Although the
texture o f sound is different in these two passages, the increase o f sound and length o f
dynamic prolongation are strikingly similar.
When looking to express an extreme dynamic M oszkowski uses a vigorous and
forceful vocabulary. In addition to using triple dynamic markings such as p pp or fff,
Moszkowski enhances the less descriptive dynamic markings w ith more expressive
terms. For example, an early but strong arrival point in the Tannhauser transcription is
marked feroce (m. 142), while af f f climax is strengthened w ith the term strepitoso (m.
175, noisy or boisterous). Highly suggestive and romantic passages are marked
soavemente (Tannhauser, m. 266; and Isoldens Tod, ex. 5-2b, m. 41). Armonioso is
indicated for more flowing passages in the Tannhauser transcription (m. 203) and
Isoldens Tod (m. 55). M oszkowski's illustrative use o f additional Italian musical terms
has several important benefits. One is that it allows the com poser to retain a tighter
expressive control for a given passage, more so than by using only dynamic markings.
Furthermore, the use o f more poetic language allows the perform er to draw on a greater
305
personal reserve o f expressive and technical devices to produce a more individualistic
performance that still remains faithful to the composer's wishes.
Conclusion
It is a pity that M oszkowski did not venture earlier and more frequently into the
transcription genre. By the time he made his first in 1906, he was already a fully mature
and established composer. W hat influenced Moszkowski to create a virtuosic piano
transcription? It is doubtful that Moszkowski was looking to increase his own concert
repertoire, as his public performances were rare, with his last known performance in
1908.19 M oszkowski did, however, seem to place a strong emphasis on dedicating his
works and perhaps desired their performance by his dedicatees. N early every work
Moszkowski published had a dedication recipient. These honorees included family
members,20 friends,21 teachers,22 publishers,23 students,24 and, o f course, musicians.25
19 See chapter 1, page 43, footnote 185.

20 M oszkowski’s Zwei Lieder fu r Sopran mit Pianoforte, op. 9, is dedicated to Frau
Regina Moszkowski (Hainauer, 1876). The Quatre M orceaux, op. 35 (Hainauer, 1885),
is dedicated “a m a chere femme.” The first piece from the Huit M orceaux
Characteristiques, op. 36, no. 1 (Hainauer, 1885), is dedicated to his brother’s wife, “a
Madame Bertha M oszkowski.”
“ Moszkowski’s symphonic poem Johanna d ’Arc, op. 19, was dedicated to Philipp
Scharwenka (Hainauer, 1897). The Grande Valse de Concert, op. 88 (Presser, 1912), is
dedicated to Isidor Philipp.
22 The Drei Concert-Etuden, op. 24 (Hainauer, 1880), is dedicated to “Seinem
hochverehrten Lehrer Theodor Kullak.”
23 • •
The Valse et Mazourka, op. 46 (Hainauer, 1889), is dedicated to M onsieur Jules
Hainauer.
24 The canon from the Six M orceaux pour Piano, op. 81, no. 1 (Schott, 1909), is
dedicated to J. Joachim Nin. M oszkowski’s op. 96 is titled Le M aitre e t l ’eleve (Enoch,
1921?), and dedicated to Mademoiselle Diane de Rothschild. One can surmise that
Moszkowski wrote these eight small pieces for the left hand on five notes for his young
pupil.
306
Although M oszkowski’s transcriptions were dedicated to important pianists,26 it is not
known for certain whether they were premiered or even performed by the dedicatees.
Other than the news clipping which mentioned Rosenthal’s preparation o f the Chanson
Boheme, no documentation has been uncovered thus far that elucidates the premiere date
and performer o f any o f M oszkowski’s transcriptions.
Why did he wait eight more years after 1906 before exploring this genre again?
Perhaps M oszkowski’s other compositional endeavors kept him fully occupied. Between
1906 and 1914 fifteen separate opus numbers o f Moszkowski were published, many o f
which are quite extensive in length and contain multiple shorter pieces within them.
Despite these conjectures, the answers to these important questions remain locked
in Moszkowski's private, discreet nature and may never be fully uncovered. The three
transcriptions discussed in this study, however, deserve a place o f importance in the
piano transcription genre. Although the technical challenges are great, M oszkowski’s
virtuosic transcriptions are so musical and intrinsically pianistic that they contribute a
25 The Violin Concerto, op. 30 (Bote & Bock, 1883), is dedicated to the violinist who
premiered the work: “a son ami Emile Sauret.” The Drei Klavierstiicke, op. 54 (Peters,
1895), is dedicated to Fannie Bloomfield-Zeisler. The Piano Concerto, op. 59 (Peters,
1898), is dedicated to Josef Casimir Hofmann. The Six M orceaux pour Piano, op. 81
(Schott, 1909) has several important dedicatees. The Humoresque, no. 4, is dedicated to
Josef Hofmann, the Romance, no. 5, is dedicated to Ossip Gabrilowisch, and the Melodie
appassionata is dedicated to Leopold Godowski. The 12 Etudes de Piano, op. 92 (Enoch,
1915), is dedicated to Harold Bauer.
26 The Chanson Boheme, (Hainauer, 1906), is dedicated to Moritz Rosenthal; the Isoldens
Tod (Peters, 1914), is dedicated to Ferruccio Busoni; Der Venusberg (Peters, 1914), is
dedicated to M ark Hambourg. Moszkowski’s one other operatic transcription, not
examined in this dissertation because it is a straight arrangement o f Offenbach’s work,
Barcarole aus Hoffmans Erzahlugen (Peters, 1910), is dedicated to Elizabeth Strauss.
Perhaps Strauss was an intermediate student o f M oszkowski’s as this work is much
simpler in scope and execution than the three transcriptions examined in this dissertation.
307
tremendous outlet for expression, creativity, and understanding for both performers and
listeners alike.
308
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DISCOGRAPHY
The Art o f Transcription: Live from Carnegie Hall, Earl Wild, Audiofon CD 72008-2.
[.Isoldens Tod]
Operatic Piano, Michel Ponti, VoxBox2 CDX-5047.

[Chanson de Boheme, Isoldens Tod, Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper
Tannhauser von Richard Wagner]
Paraphrases de Bravoure sur des Operas de Wagner, Michel Ponti, Dante PSG 9653-54.
[Isoldens Tod]
Piano Music by Moritz Moszkowski, Seta Tanyel, Hyperion CDH 55142.

[Barcarole, Chanson de Boheme, Isoldens Tod]
Rare Piano Encores, Leslie Howard, Hyperion CDA 66090.

[Chanson de Boheme]
Richard Wagner Piano Transcriptions, Chitose Okashiro, Victor V IC C -60015.

[Isoldens Tod, Nachkomponierte Szene zur Oper Tannhauser von Richard
Wagner]

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THE COMPOSITIONAL ART OF MORITZ M OSZKOW SKI

A dissertation submitted to the Graduate Faculty in Music in partial fulfillment o f the

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THE CITY UNIVERSITY OF NEW YORK

TRANSCRIPTIONS, PARAPHRASES, AND ARRANGEM ENTS:

Adviser: Professor Bruce C. MacIntyre

Although more or less forgotten by most musicians, M oritz Moszkowski (1854-1925)

and to provide a general description o f his piano transcriptions, arrangements, and

paraphrases, as well as a detailed analysis o f three o f his virtuosic piano transcriptions.

under-appreciated achievements are documented in the musical journals o f his day,

Musical Standard. In addition, an examination o f M oszkowski’s more personal effects,

composer, but ends sadly in poverty and illness.

o f M oszkowski’s transcriptional technique in three o f his virtuosic piano transcriptions

his transcriptional technique. M oszkowski’s strategic decisions about what to include or

exclude, highlight or de-emphasize were balanced by a sense o f musical proportion with

a clear understanding o f pianistic practicalities and limitations. Furthermore,

In order to compare and contrast differences in transcriptional style and place

M oszkowski’s transcriptional oeuvre in perspective, comparable works by other

demonstrate a sense o f refinement and musical sophistication with a dose o f panache.

a discussion o f the nineteenth-century transcription genre. This led to the discovery of

M oszkowski’s transcriptions and a rekindling o f my affection for his music.

An early, influential piano teacher o f mine, Emerson M eyers (a late contemporary

o f M oszkowski’s), insisted that I diligently work my way through M oszkowski’s Ecole

regimen and continue to assign many o f his pieces to my students.

W hen I embarked on the research for this dissertation I discovered a paucity of

ultimately helped me uncover some new and important information on Moszkowski.

earlier versions o f the dissertation.

confidence in me have remained unwavering; I am profoundly grateful.

faculty at the University o f Montreal. Her seminal research on Cecile Chaminade

family that she graciously shared with me.

Proofreading is one o f the most detailed and time-consuming aspects o f polishing

to being an internationally recognized archaeologist with her own tenured faculty

partner. Her musically knowledgeable background provided me with an even deeper

have played in shaping my life.

While my parents provided the tools and my children the inspiration, it is my

that I dedicate this work.

1. THE BIOGRAPHY OF MORITZ MOSZKOWSKI

Family Background and Early History 3

Encounters with Liszt and a First Piano Concerto 13

More Compositional Achievements 15

The Performer’s Demise 19

Moszkowski the Teacher 21

Romance and Family 23

The Piano Concerto, Op. 59 38

War, Demise, and Illness, 1914-1925 44

2. THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY TRANSCRIPTION

Defining Transcription and Related Terms 63

Popularity of the Transcription Genre 70