These tours were undertaken now alone, now in the company of some other virtuoso such as Thalberg. He made the acquaintance of almost all the distinguished musicians of his age, among them Robert Schumann and Richard Wagner; his repertory was wide and varied, including even Beethoven’s concerto, which was not during the early years of his life frequently performed by any but the German violinists.
As to his playing Paul David wrote in an article for Grove’s Dictionary: ‘He had all the great qualities of technique so characteristic of the modern French school. His intonation was perfect; his command of the bow unsurpassed. An astonishing staccato—in up and down bow—was a specialty of his; and in addition he had a tone of such breadth and power as is not generally found with French violinists. His style of playing (Vortrag) was characteristically French. He was fond of strong dramatic accents and contrasts, and generally speaking his style was better adapted to his own compositions and those of other French composers than to the works of the great classical masters. At the same time it should be said that he gained some of his greatest successes in the concertos of Beethoven and Mendelssohn, and was by no means unsuccessful as a quartet player, even in Germany.’
Excepting Spohr, there are few of the violinist-composers of the second half of the century with whom fate has dealt so kindly as with Vieuxtemps. Most have been forgotten as composers, a fact which may be taken to prove that their compositions had little musical vitality except that which their own playing infused into them. Those few who have been remembered in fact as well as in name owe the permanenceof their reputations to one or two pieces in the nature of successful salon music. Among these should be mentioned Henri Wieniawski (1835-1880), undoubtedly one of the finest players of the century. In the early part of his life he wandered from land to land, coming in company with his friend Anton Rubinstein, the great pianist, even as far as the United States. He was after this (1874) for a few years professor of the violin at the Conservatory in Brussels, filling the place left vacant by Vieuxtemps; and then once more resumed his life of wandering. His compositions were numerous, including two concertos as well as a number of studies and transcriptions, or fantasias, of opera airs. Now perhaps only theLégendeis still familiar to a general public, though the Fantasia on airs from ‘Faust,’ empty as it is of all save brilliance, holds a place on the programs of the virtuosi of the present day.
Bernhard Molique (1803-69), a violinist of considerable repute about the middle of the century, composed five concertos, as well as numerous smaller pieces, an acquaintance with which today is a privilege in the main reserved to the student. The concertos are without genuine musical vitality. Most of his life, after 1849, was spent in England, where he surrounded himself with many pupils.
Joseph Joachim, one of the most admired violinists and musicians to be found in the history of the art, was a thoughtful composer. His relations with Brahms have elsewhere been mentioned in this series. But Joachim’s compositions are for the most part likely to be forgotten, with the possible exception of the Hungarian Concerto, opus 11, the second of his three compositions in this form. However, few if any other virtuosi have ever so united in themselves the highest qualities of man and musician, and probably no other player ever exerted just the sort of moderateand wholly salutary influence which sprang from Joachim. Among the many signs of the high esteem in which he was held may be mentioned only the four honorary degrees conferred upon him by the universities of Cambridge, Glasgow, Oxford and Göttingen.
In the course of his long life (1831-1907) Joachim became intimately associated with various circles of musical activity. During the six years between 1843 and 1849 he was in Leipzig, then enjoying the enthusiastic efforts of Mendelssohn and Schumann. Again we find him for four years holding the place of konzertmeister in Liszt’s orchestra at Weimar. Then he is konzertmeister in Hannover, where he married Amalie Weiss, a singer of unrivalled art. Still later he went to Berlin, where, as teacher and quartet leader, he stood for the very highest ideals of his art. The famous Joachim quartet, which his spirit may be said almost to have created, consisted of Joachim, De Ahna (1835-1892), once a pupil of Mayseder, Emanuel Wirth, violist, who succeeded Rappoldi in 1877, and Robert Hausmann (1852-1909). De Ahna was succeeded by J. C. Kruse (b. 1859), and Kruse in 1897 by Karl Halir. Joachim gave himself with deepest devotion to the study of Beethoven’s works; and probably his performances of the last quartets of Beethoven have established a standard of excellence in chamber music which may never be exalted further. Brahms wrote his violin concerto especially for Joachim, who alone for many years was able to play it. Here is but another case where the great virtuoso stands behind the great composer. Kreutzer, Clement, and Rode all have entered in spirit into the immortality of great music through Beethoven. David stands behind the concerto of Mendelssohn, Joachim behind that of Brahms.
So, too, there is a great virtuoso just behind three of the most successful of modern concertos: Sarasate behind the first concerto of Lalo, the very substance ofBruch’s second concerto and his Scottish Fantasia. Pablo de Sarasate (1844-1908) came from his native land of Spain to Paris in 1856. Already as a boy of ten he had astonished the Spanish court. Into his small hands had already come a priceless Stradivari, gift of the queen of Spain. After three years’ study under Alard in Paris he entered upon his career of virtuoso, which took him well over the face of the world, from the Orient to the United States. The numerous short pieces which he has composed are tinged with Spanish color. There are gypsy dances, Spanish dances, theJota Aragonesa, romances and fantasias, all of which are brilliant and many of which are at present among the favorite solos of all violinists.
The Norwegian violinist, Ole Bull (1810-1880), who achieved an international fame, should be mentioned in this connection. His compositions, in slight forms or transcriptions, enjoyed considerable popularity.
On the whole the technique of violin playing has hardly advanced beyond Paganini. Practically little or no advance has been possible. But undoubtedly this once miraculous technique is now within the grasp of all the great virtuosi of the present day. To mention these would go beyond the purpose of this chapter, which has been, in so far as possible, to select from the list of hundreds a few men that have united, so to speak, the technique of the violin to the general progress of music, through their influence as players, as teachers, as composers, or as mentors, so far as violin music is concerned, to greater composers.
The mass of music composed by the great violinists of the nineteenth century is immense. The works of large proportions as well as those of small were composed with perhaps the chief aim of revealing the scope of the instrument; and as for the concertos it is hardly unfair to say that they were composed withthe additional purpose of offering to the composer the best chance to display his individual style as a player. Certainly of these many composers Spohr and Vieuxtemps were the most capable as musicians in a general way; and as it must be granted that both were at their best in the performance of their own concertos, so it may be said that their concertos rose to their highest value under the fingers of their creators. To that same value they have not otherwise risen.
The concerto is, after all, a long piece of music in symphonic proportions, and time seems to have proved that it must justify itself by more than display of the special qualities of a certain instrument. There must be in addition to this something of genuine musical value. The thoughts which it expresses—for so we must name the outpourings of a musical inspiration which have no substance but sound—must be first worthy of expression. There must be melody and harmony of distinct and vivid character. These the concertos of the violin-composers oftenest lack; and therefore from the point of view of pure music, one finds in them a lack not only of originality but of strength.
Their short pieces stand a better chance of a longer life, because in them a slender idea is not stretched to fill a broad form, and because for a short time sheer beauty of sound, such as the violin is capable of, and dexterity of fingers are a sufficient delight to the ear.
In turning to the violin pieces of the great masters of music one finds first and foremost ideas, great or charming, which are wholly worthy of expression. As these find their outlet in music in melody, harmony, and rhythm, and take their shape in form, melody becomes intensified and suggests as well as sings, harmonyis enriched, form developed and sustained. Only the solo sonatas of Bach have demanded such manifold activity from the violin alone. Other composers have called to the aid of their ideas some other instrument—pianoforte, organ, or orchestra. The great masters have indeed placed no small burden of the frame and substance of such compositions on the shoulders of this second instrument, usually the pianoforte. Hence we have music which is no longer solo music for the violin, but duets in which both instruments play an obbligato part. Such are the violin sonatas of Beethoven, Brahms, César Franck and others, thoroughly developed, well-articulated and often truly great music.
Beethoven wrote ten sonatas for pianoforte and violin, all but one between the years 1798 and 1803. This was a time when his own fame as a virtuoso was at its height, and the pianoforte part in all the sonatas calls for technical skill and musicianship from the pianist. Upon the violinist, too, they make no less claim. In fact Beethoven’s idea of this duet sonata as revealed in all but the last, that in G major, opus 96, is the idea of a double concerto, both performers displaying the best qualities and the most brilliant of their instruments, the pianist at the same time adding the harmonic background and structural coherence which may well be conceived as orchestral. It is not surprising then to find in these works something less of the ‘poetic idea’ than may be discovered, or has been, in the sonatas for pianoforte alone, the string quartets, and the symphonies. Beethoven is not concerned solely with poetic expression in music. And not only many of the violin sonatas, but the horn sonata and the 'cello sonatas, were written for a certain player, and even for a special occasion.
Of the three sonatas, opus 12, written not later than 1798 and dedicated to the famous Italian Salieri, then resident in Vienna, little need be said. On the wholethey are without conspicuous distinction in style, treatment, or material; though certain movements, especially the slow movements of the second and third sonatas, are full of deep feeling. Likewise the next two sonatas, that in A minor, opus 23, and that in F major, opus 24, are not of great significance in the list of Beethoven’s works, though the former speaks in a highly impassioned vein, and the latter is so frankly charming as to have won for itself something of the favor of the springtime.
Shortly after these Beethoven composed the three sonatas, opus 30, dedicated to the Czar of Russia, in which there is at once a more pronounced element of virtuosity and likewise a more definite poetic significance. The first and last of this set are in A major and G major, and show very clearly the characteristics which are generally associated with these keys. The former is vigorous, the latter cheerful. Both works are finely developed and carefully finished in style, and theTempo di minuettoin the latter is one of the most charming of Beethoven’s compositions. The sonata in C minor which stands between these two is at once more rough-hewn and emotionally more powerful.
The sonata in A, opus 47, is the ninth of the violin sonatas of Beethoven. It was written especially for the English violinist, George Bridgetower, with whom Beethoven played it for the first time on the 17th or 24th of May, 1803. According to the violinist himself, who was, by the way, a mulatto and exceedingly mannered, he altered a passage in this performance of the work which greatly pleased Beethoven. However this may be, Beethoven later fell out with him, and subsequently dedicated the sonata to the great violinist Rodolphe Kreutzer, who came to Vienna in the suite of General Bernadotte. It has since been known as the Kreutzer Sonata. It is an imposing and brilliant work, but it may be fairly said that it owes its general popularityto the favor of virtuosi to whom it offers a grateful test of technical ability. Emotionally the first movement alone is of sustained and impressive meaning. The theme of the Andante is of great sweetness, but the variations are hardly more than a series of more and more elaborate ornamentations, designed for the benefit of the players. The brilliant last movement seems to have been first conceived for the preceding sonata in A major, opus 30, No. 1.
Toward the end of 1812 the French violinist, Pierre Rode, came to Vienna, and to this event alone is probably due the last of Beethoven’s sonatas for pianoforte and violin. If he had set out to exhaust the possibilities of brilliant effect in the combination of the two instruments, he achieved his goal, as far as it was attainable within the limits of technique at that time, in the Kreutzer Sonata. Then for a period of nine years he lost interest in the combination. When he turned to it again, for this sonata in G, opus 96, it was with far deeper purpose. The result is a work of a fineness and reserve, of a pointed style, and cool meaning. It recalls in some measure the Eighth Symphony, and like that symphony has been somewhat eclipsed by fellow works of more obvious and striking character. Yet from the point of view of pure and finely-wrought music it is the best of the sonatas for pianoforte and violin. Mention has already been made of the first performance of the work, given on the 29th of December, 1812, by Rode and Beethoven’s pupil, the Archduke Rudolph.
The concerto for violin and orchestra, opus 61, must be given a place among his masterpieces. It belongs in point of time between the two great pianoforte concertos, in G major and E-flat major; and was first performed by the violinist Franz Clement, to whom it was dedicated, at a concert in theTheater an der Wien, on December 23, 1806. Difficult as the concerto is for the violinist, Beethoven has actually drawn upon onlya few of the characteristics of the instrument, and chiefly upon its power over broad, soaring melody. He had written a few years earlier two Romances, opus 40 and opus 50, for violin and orchestra, which may be taken as preliminary experiments in weaving a solo-violin melody with the many strands of the orchestra. The violin part in the concerto is of noble and exalted character, and yet at the same time gives to the instrument the chance to express the best that lies within it.
The plan of the work is suggestively different from the plan of the last two concertos for pianoforte. In these Beethoven treats the solo instrument as a partner or at times as an opponent of the orchestra, realizing its wholly different and independent individuality. At the very beginning of both the G major and the E-flat major concertos, the piano asserts itself with weight and power equal to the orchestra’s, and the ensuing music results as it were from the conflict or the union of these two naturally contrasting forces. The violin has no such independence from the orchestra, of which, in fact, it is an organic member. The violin concerto begins with a long orchestral prelude, out of which the solo instrument later frees itself, as it were, and rises, to pursue its course often as leader, but never as opponent.[52]
The few works by Schubert for pianoforte and violin belong to the winter of 1816 and 1817, and, though they have a charm of melody, they are of relatively slight importance either in his own work or in the literature for the instrument. There are a concerto in D major; three sonatinas, in D, A minor, and G minor, opus 137, Nos. 1, 2, 3; and a sonata in A, opus 162.
There are two violin sonatas by Schumann, in A minor, opus 105, and in D minor, opus 121. Both are works belonging to the last years of his life, and both reflect a sad and gloomy spirit; but both contain muchthat is rarely beautiful. They will strike the ear at once as more modern than those of Beethoven, mostly of course because of the treatment of the pianoforte. Here it may well be mentioned that improvements in the pianoforte rather changed the problem of writing duet sonatas such as these. The new power of the instrument might easily threaten the violin with extinction. On the whole Schumann’s handling of the combination is remarkably successful. He is inclined now and then to treat the pair of instruments in unison—as in the first movement of the sonata in A minor—which is a rank waste of the beauties which the diversity in the natures of pianoforte and violin makes possible. On the other hand, such a movement as that in G major in the second sonata, its unusual beginning with a melody given by the violin in pizzicato chords, and its third statement of the melody in rich double-stops, is a masterpiece.[53]
The only considerable contribution by Mendelssohn to the literature of the violin is the concerto written for and first performed by Ferdinand David. A sonata in F minor, opus 4, is without distinction. But the concerto must be reckoned as one of Mendelssohn’s greatest works. Certainly, standing as it does between the concerto of Beethoven, on the one hand, and that of Brahms, on the other, it cannot but appear small in size and slight in content. But the themes, especially the chief theme of the first movement, are well chosen, the orchestral part exquisitely and thoroughly finished, and the treatment of the violin, thanks to David, smoothly effective. The cadenza—is it Mendelssohn or David?—is of sterling worth, and it is happily arranged in the movement as a whole before the third section, so that the hearer has not the shock which accompanies the enforced dragging in of virtuoso stuff in most cadenzas.It glides naturally out of what came before, and slowly flows back into the course of the movement.
There are three violin sonatas by Brahms which hold a very high place in music. The first, opus 78, in G major, was written after the first and second symphonies and even the violin concerto had been made public (Jan. 1, 1879). It has, perhaps, more than any of his earlier works, something of grace and pleasant warmth, of those qualities which made the second symphony acceptable to more than his prejudiced friends. Certainly this sonata, which was played with enthusiasm by Joachim all over Europe, made Brahms’ circle of admirers vastly broader than it had been before.
The workmanship is, of course, highly involved and recondite. There is a thematic relationship between the first and last movements,[54]and the themes and even the accompaniment are put to learned uses. But the style is gracious and charming, the treatment of the violin wholly satisfactory, and the combination of the two instruments close and interesting.
The second sonata, opus 100, did not appear until seven years after the first. Here again there is warmth and grace of style, though the impression the work makes as a whole is rather more serious than that made by the earlier sonata. Of course at a time when Brahms and Wagner were being almost driven at each other by their ardent friends and backers the resemblance between the first theme of this sonata in A major and the melody of the Prize Song in theMeistersingerdid not pass unnoticed. The resemblance is for an instant startling, but ceases to exist after the first four notes.
The third sonata, that in D minor, opus 108, appeared two years later. On the whole it has more of the sternness one cannot but associate with Brahms than either of those which precede it. There are grotesque accentsin the first movement, and also a passage of forty-six measures over a dominant pedal point, and even the delightful movement in F-sharp minor (un poco presto e con sentimento) has a touch of deliberateness. The slow movement on the other hand is direct, and the last movement has a strong, broad swing.
No violin sonatas show more ingenuity in the combining of the two instruments than those of Brahms. Mr. Thomas F. Dunhill in his book on Chamber Music,[55]chooses from each of them a passage which really represents a new effect in this field of which one would have thought all the effects discovered.
The concerto for violin and orchestra stands among Brahms’ supreme achievements, a giant among concertos matched only by that of Beethoven. It is not a matter for surprise that Brahms, who in many ways deliberately tried to follow Beethoven, and who even here chose the same key (D major) that Beethoven chose for his concerto, chose likewise the old-fashioned form of concerto. The work gains ponderance by reason of the long orchestral introduction in both the first and second movements. There is, likewise, as in the pianoforte concertos, too conscious a suppression of superficial brilliance. But what is this slight heaviness compared to the soaring power of its glorious themes? Truly the violin rises high above the orchestra as on wings of light.
The treatment of the violin relates the concerto to Joachim even more definitely than the dedication. It is full of the most exacting difficulties, some of which in the last movement gave even Joachim pause. The double-stops, however, and the frequent passages in two voices were, after all, effects in which Joachim was especially successful. Some of the close co-operation of the two great masters on this single great masterpiece is revealed in the correspondence which passedbetween Joachim and Brahms and happily has been preserved.
Turning now to music in its more recent developments, we shall find that each nation has contributed something of enduring worth to the literature of the violin. Certainly, high above all modern sonatas, and perhaps above all sonatas for pianoforte and violin, stands that by César Franck, dedicated to M. Eugène Ysäye. By all the standards we have, this work is immortally great. From the point of view of style it presents at their best all the qualities for which Franck’s music is valued. There are the fineness in detail and the seemingly spontaneous polyphonic skill, the experiments, or rather the achievements in binding the four movements into a unified whole by employing the same or cognate thematic material in all, the chromatic alterations of harmonies and the almost unlimited modulations. Besides these more or less general qualities, the pianoforte and the violin are most sympathetically combined, and the treatment of both instruments is varied and interesting. Franck’s habit of short phrases here seems wholly proper, and never suggests as it does in some of his other works a too intensive development of musical substance. In short this sonata, full of mystical poetry, is a flawless masterpiece, from the opening movement that seems like a dreamy improvisation, to the sunny canon at the end of the work.
This is by no means the only brilliant accomplishment of the French composers in violin music. Lalo’s Concerto in F minor, opus 20, and his Spanish Symphony for violin and orchestra, opus 21, must be given a place among the most successful of modern compositions. They were both composed between 1873 and thebeginning of 1875. Both were dedicated to Sarasate, whose influence contributed not a little to their perfection of style, and who was the first to play them in public. The ‘Spanish Symphony’ was greatly admired by Tschaikowsky and apparently put the thought of writing his own concerto into his head. In a letter to Mme. von Meck, written in March, 1878, he showed a positive enthusiasm for Lalo’s work which had recently become known to him through the performance by the ‘very modern’ violinist Sarasate. And of Lalo he wrote that, like Léo Delibes and Bizet, he shunned studiously all routine commonplaces, sought new forms without wishing to appear profound, and, unlike the Germans, cared more formusical beautythan for mere respect of the old traditions. Besides these two concertos Lalo wrote within the next few years a ‘Romance-Serenade,’ a ‘Norwegian Fantasia,’ and aConcerto Russe, for violin and orchestra.
Sarasate seems to have stimulated almost all of the composers with whom he came in contact. Saint-Saëns wrote three concertos for violin and orchestra, opus 20, in A major, opus 58, in C major, and opus 61, in B minor, and dedicated all to Sarasate. Of these the third is the broadest in form and the most impressing, and is a favorite among its fellows as the second concerto for pianoforte, opus 22, is among the five works in that form. It was composed in 1880 and played for the first time by Sarasate. Saint-Saëns wrote besides these three concertos an ‘Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso,’ opus 28, a ‘Romanze,’ opus 48, and a ‘Concert Piece,’ opus 62, for violin and orchestra, and two sonatas—opus 75, in D minor, and opus 102, in E-flat major—for violin and pianoforte. There is also a brilliantHavanaise, opus 83, for violin and orchestra.
There is a sonata for violin and piano by Gabriel Fauré, opus 13, which has won favor, and which Saint-Saëns characterized asgéniale. The year 1905 heardthe first performance of the admirable violin sonata in C major of M. Vincent d’Indy.
Among the Scandinavian composers Grieg holds the highest rank, and his three sonatas for violin and pianoforte are among the favorite compositions for this combination. Their charm is like that of his other works, and consists not a little in the presence of a distinct national idiom which, until one becomes thoroughly used to it, strikes the ear with delightful freshness. The three sonatas are respectively opus 8, in F major, opus 13, in G major, and opus 45, in C minor. The last is a fiery, dramatic work. The two earlier ones are characterized by grace and charm. With the exception of the pianoforte concerto in A minor, Grieg showed himself nowhere more successful than in these sonatas in the treatment of form. His ideas are generally slight, and his workmanship delicate and refined. Hence he is at his best in short pieces. But the violin sonatas are on the whole well sustained, and the themes in the last of them, and particularly the chief theme of the first movement, have a breadth quite unusual in the great part of his music.
Of far broader conception, however, than the sonatas, are the two brilliant concertos by Christian Sinding, the first in A major, opus 45, the second in D major, opus 60. Concerning his music in general M. Henry Marteau, the eminent French violinist who introduced the first concerto to the public and who is a close friend of Sinding, has written: ‛He is very Norwegian in his music, but less so than Grieg, because his works are of far broader conception and would find themselves cramped in the forms that are so dear to Grieg.’[56]
Among the Russians, Tschaikowsky’s concerto for violin in D major, opus 35, is one of the greatest written for the instrument. Of Tschaikowsky’s admiration for the Spanish Symphony of Lalo, mention hasalready been made. After this had prompted him to write a concerto of his own, the work went on with astonishing rapidity; was, in fact, roughly on paper within the space of a month. It was first performed on December 4, 1884, at a Philharmonic concert in Vienna by Adolf Brodsky (b. 1851). It was originally dedicated to Leopold Auer (b. 1845), but Tschaikowsky later re-dedicated it to Brodsky, having heard that Auer had dissuaded Émile Sauret from playing it in Petrograd. As to the difficulties of the work much may be gleaned from a letter written by Brodsky to Tschaikowsky after the first performance. Among other things he wrote: ‛I had the wish to play the concerto in public ever since I first looked it through. * * * I often took it up and often put it down, because my laziness was stronger than my wish to reach the goal. You have, indeed, crammed too many difficulties into it. * * * One can play it again and again and never be bored; and this is a most important circumstance for the conquering of its difficulties.’[57]
Of the three movements only the last (allegro vivacissimo, 2-4, D major) has a distinctly Russian flavor. This comes to it not only from the nature of the two chief themes, which are in the character of Russian folk-songs, but from the gorgeous coloring, both harmonic and orchestral, the wildness of climaxes, and the Slavic idiom of repeating a single phrase over and over again. It is a riotous piece of music, this last movement, full of an animation, almost a madness which is intoxicating. Hanslick heard in it only the brutal and wretched jollity of a Russian Kermesse; but his fierce judgment has not been supported by the public or by the profession.
There is a concerto for violin in A minor, opus 82, by Alexander Glazounoff, composed in 1904 and first performed at a Queen’s Hall concert in London, by Mischa Elman, on October 17, 1905. The work is dedicated to Leopold Auer, to whom, as has just been mentioned, Tschaikowsky originally dedicated his concerto for violin. It is a work without distinction.