The French school of classic violin music, represented by Rode and

Baillot, may be said to have come to an end at least partly by the

influence of Paganini. This greatest of all virtuosos made his

first appearance in Paris on March 9, 1831, after having astonished

Austria and Germany. His success was here as elsewhere instantaneous

and practically unbounded; and the examples his playing offered of

extraordinary technical effects became the model for subsequent French

violinists.

There are three virtuosos of the violin whose names stand out

conspicuously in the history of violin music: Locatelli, Lolli,

and Paganini. Each of these men is noted for special and in many

ways overstretched efforts to bring out of the instrument sounds

and combinations of sounds which, in that they can have little true

musical significance and are indeed often of questionable beauty,

are considered rather a sign of charlatanism than of true genius.

This really means that the men are not geniuses as musicians, but as

performers. Their intelligence is concentrated upon a discovery of the

unusual. They adopt any means to the end of astonishing the multitude,

such as altering the conventional tuning of the instrument, and

employing kinds of strings which are serviceable only in the production

of certain effects.

Of Locatelli some mention has already been made. He was a pupil of

Corelli and the serious traditions of his master have found a worthy

expression in many of his own works. On the other hand, his twenty-four

caprices, in the _L’arte del Violino_ (1733), and the _Caprices

enigmatiques in the L’arte di nuova modulazione_, are sheer virtuoso

music and little more. They are the prototypes for many of the studies

and caprices of Paganini, who apparently devoted himself almost with

frenzy to the study of these caprices during the year 1804.

But Locatelli was a thorough musician as well as an astonishing

virtuoso. The type of empty-headed virtuoso who has apparently nothing

in his musical equipment but tricks, is represented by Antonio Lolli

(1730-1802). Here was a man who won unprecedented success in most

of the capitals of Europe, yet who, by all accounts, knew little or

nothing about music. Indeed, there is something pathetic in his frank

admission that he was an ass. ‘How can I play anything serious?’ he

is reported to have asked when requested to play a simple adagio.

Apparently he could neither keep time nor read even easy music at

sight. Yet he could so fiddle that many a man believed he heard, not

the violin, but voices, oboes, and flutes. And some cried out that he

must have ten fingers on the left hand and five bows in the right.

And at least two of his pupils, Woldemar (1750-1816) and Jarnowick

(1745-1804), were famous for no greater accomplishments. But in the

main the ‘tone’ of violin playing was set, at the end of the century,

by the great Italian, Viotti, and his followers. This endured, as we

have said, until the advent of Paganini in the world of music.

Paganini’s early life in Italy (1784-1828) was at first not free from

hardship, but after 1805, at least, it was brilliantly successful.

The only lessons of importance in his training were received from

Alessandro Rolla (1757-1804). His prodigious skill was almost wholly

due to his own ingenuity, and to his indefatigable industry. There is

every reason to believe that he practiced hour after hour until he was

so exhausted that he fell upon the ground.

During the years between 1801 and 1804 he lived in retirement under

the protection of a lady of high rank, and during these years gave up

his violin and devoted himself almost wholly to the guitar. This is

among the first of his eccentricities, which every now and then during

his triumphant career cropped out to the amazement of the public of

all Europe. He was in fact so unaccountable in many ways that a whole

cycle of fables grew up about him, through which he loomed up, now as a

murderer who had acquired his skill during long years of imprisonment,

now as a man more than half spectre, who had bought at some hideous

price the intimate, and it must be said wholly serviceable, coöperation

of the devil. How many of these stories were originated and purposely

circulated by Paganini himself, who knew how to cast a spell over the

public in more ways than one, cannot be definitely answered. On more

than one occasion he openly denied them and complained of them not

without bitterness, all with the greatest of plausibleness; and yet one

cannot but suspect that he knew the value of them in attracting the

crowd out of a fearsome curiosity.

After his extended tour over Europe (1827-1834), which brought him a

fame and a fortune hardly achieved since by any performer, he retired

into a semi-private life at his Villa Gaiona, not far from Parma.

From time to time he came again before the public. The more or less

scandalous affair of the ‘Casino Paganini’ in Paris (1836) took a slice

out of his fortune and perhaps seriously impaired his health. He died

on May 27, 1840.

There can be no doubt that whatever the so-called serious musical value

of his playing may have been, it took hold of the whole world and

left a mark upon it. His technique was at once colossal and special.

He built it up with the idea of playing before huge audiences, and

Spohr has remarked that in small surroundings he did not show to good

advantage. He had, of course, an incredible swiftness of fingering, an

amazing skill with the bow, particularly in staccato passages, which

he played, not in the classic manner of Rode, with a movement of the

wrist for each separate note, but by allowing the bow to spring upon

the strings. His intonation was faultless, in runs, in double-stops and

in octaves. Though he used oftenest light strings in order to secure

special effects in harmonics, and these precluded a full, rich tone in

the playing of melodies, yet he could play simple passages with great

sweetness and charm.

So far, however, his technique could hardly have exceeded that of

Rode. It was in the realm of special effects that he proved himself

little less than a wizard. Of these at least three are now within

the command of all the great players of the present day. One was the

combination of the left-hand pizzicato with notes played by the bow;

another the playing of ‘harmonics,’ particularly double-harmonics; the

third the playing of long and difficult movements upon a single string.

Musicians were in that day so baffled by these amazing sounds, of which

Paganini alone seemed to be master, that for years they attributed

to him a special secret power. There was no end of speculation about

Paganini’s secret, which, by the way, he was said to have imparted to

but one man, his pupil Sivori. Now, however, it is all revealed. In

playing pieces upon a single string he was accustomed to raise the

pitch of the string, and to go into the highest registers by means of

harmonics. He changed the tuning of his violin also in playing his

concertos and some of his caprices, and he made a frequent practice of

sliding his fingers, and was not above imitating sobs, cries, laughter,

and on one occasion, of which he has left an account, somewhat

maliciously the braying of donkeys in Ferrara!

[Illustration]

Caricature of Paganini.

_Statuette by J. P. Dantan (1832)_.

Still, though the secrets of his mechanism are now clear as day, and

within the control of many even mediocre players, his music, wherewith

he literally set half Europe crazy, has fully responded to no fingers

but his own. This may be because his tricks have become known and

familiar; but more likely his success drew from more than these tricks,

and the secret of it was in his astounding appearance and uncanny

personal magnetism. Tall, lank, gaunt, dark, with blazing eyes and

fingers like a skeleton, he may well have brought with him a sulphurous

halo when he glided like a spectre upon the stage. He was indeed more

a magician than a musician, a sorcerer too inspired to be called a

charlatan.

The effect of his playing upon all branches of music was instantaneous.

His name became the synonym for the highest perfection in playing and

singing of all kinds. In the opinion of Chopin, Mlle. Sontag is as

perfect as Paganini; and in that of Mendelssohn Chopin upon the piano

rivals Paganini upon the violin. Schumann sets about transcribing the

caprices of Paganini for the piano. Liszt makes of himself a second

wonder of the world by imitating Paganini; and not only that, but

expands the technique of his own instrument to unheard of dimensions.

Paganini’s compositions are for the most part without conspicuous

value, except for the purely technical extravagances which they

display. Relatively few were published during his lifetime. These

include the universally famous twenty-four caprices for solo violin,

opus 1, two sets of sonatas for violin and guitar, and three quartets

for violin, viola, guitar and 'cello. After his death a host of

spurious works appeared; but Fétis gives as genuine two concertos, one

in E-flat, one in B minor, the latter of which contains the _Rondo à la

clochette_, which was one of his most successful pieces; two sets of

variations, one on an air by S. Mayer, known as _Le Stregghe_ (‘Witch’s

Dance’), one on the immortal air _Le carnaval de Venise_, both of which

were almost invariably on his programs; and the _Allegro de concerto_

in perpetual motion.

III

Paganini’s success was hardly less brilliant in Germany than it was

elsewhere in Europe. At least Schumann and Mendelssohn submitted to the

fascination of his incomparable skill. Yet on the whole violin playing

in Germany remained less influenced by Paganini than it proved to be in

France, Belgium and England. This was not only because of the influence

of the great German classics, nor because the tendency of the German

violinists was rather away from solo virtuosity and toward orchestral

and quartet playing; but largely also because of the firm leadership

of Ludwig Spohr, practically the one man about whom a definite German

school of violin playing of international importance centres.

Spohr was born in the same year as Paganini (1784). His training on

the violin was received from Franz Eck, a descendant of the famous

Mannheim school. But according to his own account, the example of Rode,

whom he heard in 1803, was of great importance in finally determining

his style of playing. His numerous activities took him considerably

beyond the field of playing and composing for the violin. He was famous

as a conductor in Vienna, in Dresden and Berlin, and in London, whither

he was frequently called to undertake the conducting of his own works.

As a composer he was famous for his symphonies, his oratorios, and his

operas. Yet he was not, in a sense, a great musician; and the only

part of his great number of works which now seems at all likely to

endure much longer in anything but name is made up of the compositions,

chiefly the concertos, for violin.

Of these concertos there are seventeen in all. Among them the seventh,

eighth, and ninth are often singled out as the best; and indeed these

may be said to be the best of all his works. The eighth was written

on the way to a concert tour in Italy, and was intended especially

to please the Italians, and written in a confessedly dramatic style,

_in modo d’una scena cantante_. None of the concertos is, strictly

speaking, virtuoso music. Naturally all reveal an intimate knowledge

of the peculiarities of the violin; but these hardly over-rule the

claim of the music itself. He calls for a sort of solid playing, for a

particularly broad, deep tone in the _cantilena_ passages, for a heavy,

rather than a light and piquant, bow. He was a big man in stature, and

his hands were powerful and broad. Evidently he was more than usually

confined within the limits of his own individuality; and his treatment

of the violin in the concertos is peculiar to him in its demand for

strength and for unusually wide stretches. Even the passage work,

which, it must be said, is far more original than that with which even

Rode and Viotti were willing to be content, hardly ever exhibits the

quality of grace. He is at times sweet and pure, but he is almost never

bewitching.

A great many will say of him that he deliberately avoids brilliant

display, and they will say it with contentment and pride. But it may be

asked if the avoidance of brilliancy for its own sake is a virtue in a

great musician. This sort of musical chastity becomes perilously like

a convenient apology in the hands of the prejudiced admirer. In the

case of Brahms, for example, it daily becomes more so. And now we read

of Spohr’s unlimited skill as a player and of the dignified restraint

manifested in his compositions for the violin. But by all tokens the

concertos are being reluctantly left behind.

Among his other works for violin the duets have enjoyed a wide

popularity, greater probably than that once enjoyed by Viotti’s. His

_Violinschule_, published in 1831, has remained one of the standard

books on violin playing. Its remarks and historical comments are,

however, now of greater significance than the exercises and examples

for practice. These, indeed, are like everything Spohr touched, only a

reflection of his own personality; so much so that the entire series

hardly serves as more than a preparation for playing Spohr’s own works.

Spohr was typically German in his fondness for conducting, and for the

string quartet. As quite a young man he was the very first to bring out

Beethoven’s quartets opus 18, in Leipzig and Berlin. Paganini is said

to have made a favorite of Beethoven’s quartet in F, the first of opus

59; but Spohr was positively dissatisfied with Beethoven’s work of this

period. Yet Paganini was in no way a great quartet player, and Spohr

was. We cannot but wonder which of these two great fiddlers will in

fifty years be judged the more significant in the history of the art.

Certainly Spohr was hard and fast conservative, in spite of the fact

that he recognized the greatness of Wagner, and brought out the ‘Flying

Dutchman’ and _Tannhäuser_ at the court of Cassel. And what can we

point to now that has sprung from him? On the other hand, Paganini was

a wizard in his day, half-charlatan, perhaps, but never found out.

With the exception of Corelli and Vivaldi he is the only violinist

who, specialist as he was, exerted a powerful influence upon the whole

course of music. For he was like a charge of dynamite set off under

an art that was in need of expanding, and his influence ran like a

flame across the prairie, kindling on every hand. Look at Schumann and

Liszt, at Chopin and even at Brahms. Stop for a moment to think of what

Berlioz demanded of the orchestra, and then of what Liszt and Wagner

demanded. All of music became virtuoso music, in a sense. It all sprang

into life with a new glory of color. And who but Paganini let loose the

foxes to run in the corn of the Philistines?

Among Spohr’s pupils Ferdinand David (1810-1873) was undoubtedly the

greatest. He was an excellent performer, uniting with the solidity

of Spohr’s style something of the more occasional fervor of the

modern school, following the example of Paganini. His friendship with

Mendelssohn has been perpetuated in music by the latter’s concerto

for the violin, in E minor, which David not only performed for the

first time in March, 1845, but every measure of which was submitted to

his inspection and correction while the work was in process of being

composed.

David has also won a place for himself in the esteem and gratitude of

future generations by his painstaking editing of the works of the old

Italian masters. Few of the great works for the violin but have passed

through his discriminating touch for the benefit of the student and

the public. And as a teacher his fame will live long in that of his

two most famous pupils: Joseph Joachim (1831-1907) and August Wilhelmj

(1845-1908).

IV

How great an influence the group of French violinists exercised upon

violin music and playing in the first quarter of the nineteenth century

is revealed in the training and the characteristics of the famous

Viennese players of the time. Vienna had always proved fertile ground

for the growth of Italian ideas, and the French style recommended

itself to the Viennese not only by the prevalence of French ideas in

the city, owing to political conditions, but also because this style

was in no small measure a continuance of the Italian style of Viotti.

Among the Viennese violinists may be mentioned Franz Clement

(1780-1842), who, even as a boy of eleven, was making successful

concert tours over Europe. In the years 1791 and 1792 he played in

London in concerts directed by Haydn and Salomon. Here as elsewhere

his playing was admired for its delicacy as well as for its sureness

and clarity, qualities which ever recalled to the public of that day

the playing of Viotti and Rode. He was not above the tricks of the

virtuoso; yet there can be no better proof that he knew how to use his

great technique with the worthiest aim than that Beethoven dedicated

to him his concerto for violin. He was a thorough musician. They told

a story in Vienna, according to Spohr, of how, after hearing Haydn’s

‘Creation’ only a few times, he was able, using only the text-book

alone, to arrange all the music for the pianoforte so completely and

so accurately that when he showed his copy to old Haydn the master

thought his score must have been stolen and copied. Another proof of

his musicianship is that he was appointed the first konzertmeister at

the Theater an der Wien.

Schuppanzigh’s pupil, Joseph Mayseder (1789-1864), was among the

brilliant and pleasing players of the time. In spite of the fact

that he was at one time a member of his master’s famous quartet, his

tastes seem to have run to a light and more or less frivolous style of

music. The tendency showed itself not only in his playing, but in his

compositions. These included concertos and brilliant salon pieces; and

also string quartets and quintets and other pieces of chamber music,

all now quite out of date.

Perhaps the two most influential of the Viennese violinists were Joseph

Boehm and Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst. Boehm (1798-1867) was a pupil of

Rode, whose acquaintance he made in Poland. Later he visited Italy, and

afterwards was appointed a teacher of the violin in the Conservatory at

Vienna. Though he was famous in his day as a player who possessed the

necessary skill in fingering and bowing, he was above all a teacher.

The list of his pupils includes Ernst, G. Hellmesberger (b. 1800),

Joachim, Ludwig Strauss (b. 1835), Rappoldi (b. 1831) and Grün. Also

Reményi, at one time an associate with Brahms on concert tours, belongs

among them.

Ernst was less a teacher than a virtuoso, whose skill was so

extraordinary as to pique Paganini. It is even said that he used to

follow the astounding Italian on his concert tours that he might

discover some of the secrets of his playing. His own variations on

the ‘Carnival of Venice’ are a brilliant imitation of the style of

Paganini. He spent most of his life in concert tours; and, though he

was known to be a fine, if not a deep, musician, the virtuoso shows

in most of his compositions, which are of little more than secondary

merit. He died on October 8, 1865, having enjoyed a fame as a player

second only to that of Paganini and de Bériot.

The Bohemians Johann Wenzelaus Kalliwoda (1801-1866) and Joseph Slawjk

(1806-1833), both achieved considerable fame. Chopin spoke of Slawjk

with greatest admiration, wrote that with the exception of Paganini

he had never heard a violinist like him. The two became friends and

conceived the project of writing together a work for piano and violin.

If Slawjk had lived longer he might well have rivalled Paganini, whose

playing he, like Ernst, strove to match.

The star of Paganini exercised over every nation of musicians its

irresistible attraction. Besides famous players of Austria and Bohemia

mention must be made of C. J. Lipinski, the Pole. Lipinski remained

in Poland up to the time (1817) when rumors came out of Italy of

the astonishing performances of the Genoese. Then he went to Italy

determined to hear the wonder himself. In Piacenza he heard him, and

later became his friend and associate. It is even said that Paganini

proposed to him a joint concert trip through the large Italian cities;

but Lipinski had been too long away from his native land and felt

unable to remain away longer. His playing was characterized by an

especially strong stroke of the bow, an art he possibly acquired from

a year’s hard work on the 'cello. His compositions, few of which

are generally heard today, are said by Wasielewski to show fine

musicianship and considerable subjective warmth. The best of them is

the so-called ‘Military’ concerto in D major. His ability as an editor

is proved by his work with Klengel on an edition of Bach’s sonatas for

violin and harpsichord, published by Peters. Lipinski died at Urlow,

near Lemberg, in December, 1861.

V

The most brilliant offshoots of the French school, to the formation of

whose style the influence of Paganini contributed, were the Belgians

de Bériot and Henri Vieuxtemps, who stand together as representative

of a Belgian school of violin playing. But before considering them a

few names in the long and distinguished list of the pupils of Kreutzer,

Rode, and Baillot may be touched upon. Among those of Kreutzer Joseph

Massart was perhaps the most influential. He was born in Belgium in

1811, but went early in life to Paris to complete with Kreutzer the

work begun with his countryman Lambert. Here he remained, and from 1843

was a professor of the violin at the Conservatoire. At least one of his

pupils, Henri Wieniawski, won a world-wide fame as a virtuoso.

Among Rode’s pupils Charles Philippi Lafont (1781-1839) stands out

prominently. Lafont had also been a pupil of Kreutzer’s. His playing

was, according to Spohr, full of energy and grace, perfect in

intonation, and fine of tone, but rather mannered. His compositions,

including duos written with Kalkbrenner, Henri Herz and other virtuoso

pianists, and more than two hundred Romances, are of no genuine value.

The seven concertos are quite forgotten.

F. H. Habeneck (1781-1841), one of the most influential of French

musicians, was a pupil of Baillot. He and his two brothers, Joseph and

Corentin, were excellent violinists. But though he held a place of

honor among virtuosi of that day, and though he wrote a number of works

for the violin, he is remembered today chiefly as the founder of the

_Société des concerts du Conservatoire_. These were instituted by his

energy in 1828, and for twenty years he remained conductor of them. By

him the symphonies of Beethoven were introduced into France. He was for

many years teacher of the violin at the Conservatoire. Alard (b. 1815),

the teacher of Sarasate, was his most famous pupil.

Massart, Alard, and Léonard (b. 1819), another pupil of Habeneck,

were all Belgians; but all remained in Paris as teachers in the

Conservatoire. Hence they are considered as representative of a

Franco-Belgian school of violin playing. Charles Auguste de Bériot

(1802-1870), though studying for many years in Paris under the advice

at least of Viotti and Baillot, and though familiar to all Europe as

one of the most brilliant of the world’s virtuosos, was for nine years

(1843-52) professor of violin playing at the Brussels Conservatory,

and may therefore be considered to have brought to Brussels that fame

as a centre of brilliant violinists which she has enjoyed without

interruption down to the present day.

In de Bériot’s playing as well as in his numerous compositions the

influence of Paganini rises clearly into sight above that of the older

classical traditions of which Paris was the guardian during the first

quarter of the century. He was a master of the Paganini effects, of the

mysterious harmonics, the dazzling runs and arpeggios, the sparkling

pizzicatos; and they are thickly sown over his music. Yet there was

in both his playing and his compositions a genuine musical charm.

Especially in melodiousness. His wife was Maria Malibran, and through

her inimitable singing he heard at their best the graceful melodies of

the Italians Bellini and Donizetti, and of the Frenchman Auber, which

undoubtedly greatly affected his own compositions. These, once widely

popular, included seven concertos, several _airs variés_, and duos

for piano and violin, written in conjunction with such virtuosos as

Thalberg.

Among his pupils the most famous was Henri Vieuxtemps (1820-1881), one

of the few great virtuosos of the violin whose fame as a player has not

outlasted in memory his compositions. Vieuxtemps’ five concertos, his

_Ballade et Polonaise_, and even his _Fantaisie-Caprice_ are still in

the repertory of most violinists and have not yet lost their favor with

the public.

His life is a series of long and enormously successful tours, which

took him not only over most of Europe, even Russia, but thrice to the

United States.

[Illustration]

Great Violinists. From top left to bottom right:

Charles Auguste de Bériot, Henri Wieniawski (his brother Joseph at the

Piano), Joseph Joachim, Henri Vieuxtemps.

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.’

VI

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 permanence of

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 the _Légende_ is 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 moderate and 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 of Bruch’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, the _Jota 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 with the 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.

VII

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, harmony is 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 whole they 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 the _Tempo di minuetto_ in 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 popularity to 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 the _Theater an der Wien_, on December 23, 1806. Difficult

as the concerto is for the violinist, Beethoven has actually drawn

upon only a 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

much that 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 the _Meistersinger_ did 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

accents in 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

passed between Joachim and Brahms and happily has been preserved.

VIII

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 the beginning 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 for _musical beauty_ than

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 a _Concerto 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 brilliant _Havanaise_, 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 as _géniale_.

The year 1905 heard the 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

has already 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.

[Illustration]

Modern Violinists. From top left to bottom right:

Pablo Sarasate, Fritz Kreisler, Eugène Ysäye. Jacques Thibaud.

The violin concerto of Sibelius in D minor, opus 47, was composed in

1905 and first played by Karl Halir in Berlin, October 19, 1905. It is

a work of far greater power than that of Glazounoff. Mrs. Rosa Newmarch

in her monograph on Sibelius,[58] likens the difficulties in it to

those of the Tschaikowsky concerto, which were for a while considered

insurmountable. The concerto is in three movements of which the first

is gloomy and forbidding, though poignant in the extreme, the second

noble and more classic, the last--the coda of which was added by Pietro

Floridia--savagely effective.

In Germany we meet with Sarasate again in the second concerto and

Scottish Fantasy by Max Bruch. These are the best known of Bruch’s

works for violin and orchestra, among which may be mentioned a

first concerto, opus 26, in G minor, a Romance, opus 42, an Adagio

Appassionato, opus 57, and a Serenade, opus 75. The second concerto,

opus 44, was, according to Bruch, inspired by stories of the Carlist

wars in Spain, told by Sarasate. It was composed in Bonn in 1877, ten

years after the first, and was first publicly performed by Sarasate,

in London, during the fall of that year. In form it is free and

rhapsodical, consisting of an adagio movement, then a movement in

recitative style, and a final rondo. All through the work the solo

violin predominates. The Scottish Fantasia, composed a year or two

later, was dedicated to Sarasate. The use of Scotch songs in the five

movements is so free that English critics could hardly recognize them,

and were angry.

Among more recent works for the violin by German composers the sonata

by Richard Strauss stands conspicuous. This is an early work--opus

18--and its popularity is already on the wane. There is a concerto in A

major, opus 101, by Max Reger, and a _Suite im alten Stil_ for violin

and piano, opus 93. There are concertos by Gernsheim, as well: but on

the whole there has been no remarkable output of music for the violin

in Germany since that of Brahms and of Max Bruch.

Karl Goldmark, the Bohemian composer, has written two concertos, of

which the first, opus 28, in A minor, offers an excellent example of

the composer’s finished and highly pleasing style. The second concerto,

without opus number, is among his later works. Two suites for piano and

violin, opus 11 and opus 43, were made familiar by Sarasate. Dvořák’s

concerto, opus 53, has been frequently played. He composed as well a

Romance, opus 11, for violin and orchestra, and a sonatina, opus 100,

for violin and pianoforte. The works of Jenö Hubay are of distinctly

virtuoso character.

The Italian Leone Sinigaglia became known to the world by his concerto

for violin, opus 20, in A major, played in Berlin in 1901 by his

countryman, Arrigo Serrato. Later works include a _Rapsodia piemontese_

for violin and orchestra, and a Romance for the same combination,

opus 29. The violin music of Emanuel Móor, including a concerto and a

remarkably fine suite for violin unaccompanied, has yet to be better

known. Georges Enescou first attracted attention by compositions for

the violin. On the whole, however, it may be said that the violin is

awaiting a new contribution to its literature. This contribution is

doubtless delayed by the great attention given at the present day to

the piano, the orchestra, or other combinations of instruments, by

which the modern growth in harmony and the change in ideas of polyphony

may be given a full expression. Until these various ideas have become

firmly rooted and well-grown, the violin will profit but vicariously by

them.

FOOTNOTES:

[51] This famous arrangement was published by the Maison Richault in

Paris as _Thème de Rode, chanté avec variations dans le Barbier de

Séville en Italien par Mmes. Sontag, Alboni, Trebelli; en français

par Mlle. Maria Bailly; paroles françaises d’Adolph Larmande, avec

accompagnement de piano par L. Moreau_. See _Notice sur Rode_, by F. A.

A. Paroisse-Pougin (Paris, 1874).

[52] See Paul Bekker: ‘Beethoven.’ Berlin, 1913.

[53] Joachim had in his possession a concerto for violin by Schumann,

written likewise near the end of his life.

[54] The theme of the last movement can be found in two songs,

_Regenlied_ and _Nachklang_, opus 59, published seven years earlier.

[55] ‘Chamber Music.’ London, 1913.

[56] See _Song Journal_, November 10, 1895.

[57] See Modest Tschaikowsky: ‘Life of Peter Ilyitch Tschaikowsky.’

[58] ‘Jean Sibelius, a Finnish Composer.’

CHAPTER XIV

THE BEGINNINGS OF CHAMBER MUSIC

The term ‘chamber music’; fifteenth-century dances; lute

music, early suites; vocal ‘chamber music’--Early ‘sonatas’:

Gabrieli; Rossi; Marini; etc.--Vitali, Veracini, Bassani and

Corelli; Corelli’s pupils; Vivaldi; Bach and Handel.

I

In giving an account of early chamber music we may confine ourselves

to the consideration of early instrumental music of certain kinds,

although the term at first did not apply to pure instrumental music

alone. Chamber music in the sixteenth century meant instrumental or

vocal music for social and private purposes as distinguished from

public musical performances in churches or in theatres. In its modern

sense chamber music applies, of course, only to instrumental ensembles,

and it is therefore not necessary to dwell upon the vocal side of

chamber music beginnings, except where, as in its incipient stages,

music was written for both kinds of performances.[59] In searching for

examples of early chamber music, therefore, we must above all consider

all such music, vocal or instrumental, as was not composed for the use

of the church or theatre. Properly speaking the accompanied art-songs

of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, which were discussed in Vol.

I, Chapter IX, of our narrative history, represent the very beginnings

of artistic instrumental music that during the following three

centuries developed into pure instrumental chamber music. In forwarding

this development the dance music of the period and other instrumental

compositions of the fifteenth century were important factors.

The fifteenth century dances such as the _Pawirschwantz_, the

_Fochsschwantz_, and others, employed the polyphonic style peculiar to

the vocal compositions of the time. They lacked inspiration and were

of a restless character because of frequent changes of rhythm. There

was little to distinguish them from each other; they were in fact, in

the words of Michael Prætorius, ‘as like as eggs,’ and their general

character was not different from that of the vocal compositions of the

same period. Probably no modern ear could listen to them with enjoyment.

Presumably this music was to be played on any instrument, without

differentiation. No single instrument was especially favored until

the following century, when the perfection and the popularity of the

lute helped to bring chamber music into existence. This instrument was

indeed so highly perfected and the players so skilled that they were

able to perform upon it even difficult polyphonic works. This gave

an opportunity to the people to become acquainted, through private

performances, with a great number of musical compositions. To satisfy

the demands of their friends lutenists arranged and transcribed for

their instruments all kinds of compositions, including even entire

six-part masses. While these arrangements served their purpose they

were probably not more satisfactory than the pianoforte arrangement

of orchestral scores today. Pieces of polyphonic character were also

composed directly for the lute, and bore such names as _Ricercar_,

_Fantasia_, _Præludium_, _Preambel_, _Trio_, _Trium_, _Toccata_,

_Tartar le corde_, etc. Besides this the lutenists produced a large

amount of music in a more popular vein, popular tunes, dances, and

descriptive pieces including ‘battles,’ ‘echoes,’ ‘bird-songs,’ in

which the composer’s intention was often not self-evident.

This lute music must have been usually played in rooms of limited

size, for the delicate tone quality of the lute would scarcely render

it practical for accompaniments to dances. Hence we may conclude that

this early lute music was played for its own sake. It is the earliest

form of true chamber music and represents the beginning of absolute

instrumental music in general.

We find already in this early chamber music the elements of artistic

form. It is evident from the examination of numerous collections from

the sixteenth century that composers for the lute applied the principle

of contrast, being impelled thereto by a natural artistic sense. In

Petrucci’s lute collection (1507-08), for example, a _Ricercar_ is

preceded by a sort of prelude-like _Tartar le corde_ that in its rapid

passages forms an evident contrast to the even and more simple style

of the _Ricercar_. It is this tendency toward artistic contrast that

helped to build up the cyclical forms of the suite and of the sonata.

Lutenists, in fact, preferred to combine their favorite songs and

dances in groups of two, three, or more, which thus constituted the

earliest suites. A suite of three dances is to be found in Petrucci’s

collection. It contains a _Pavane_, a _Saltarello_, and a _Piva_. The

Pavane (in common time) gives the melodic material for the two other

movements (in triple time), a crude example of the use of a leading

theme in the different movements. Attaignat’s French collection (1529)

also contains a suite of three dances: _Bassedance_, _Recoupe_,

and _Tordion_. Some German suites consisted of a slow movement (in

triple time), and a second, more rapid, on the melody of the first.

The individual pieces sometimes had no names, but frequently the

slow movement was called _Hoftanz_, while the fast movement bore the

designation _Hupfauff_. Other combinations of movements were _Ein guter

Hoftanz_ (in common time), _Proportz darauf_ (in triple time), and

_Pavana_, or _Ein kunstreicher Gassenhauer_, _Ander Thyl_, _Proportz

dritt Thyl_. Toward the middle of the century, when movements increased

in number, the suites ended with a postlude, such as a _Toccata_. The

relation between the movements was evident not only in the common

thematic material, but also in the use of the same key throughout.

Later the dances were grouped under their different titles--all the

Pavanes and Allemandes, for instance, being brought together. Not every

kind of dance was regarded as suitable for combination with others.

Such dances as _Caluta a la Spagnola_ or _a la Italiana_, the _Branle_,

the _Morino_, the _Balletti_, the Polish, ‘Welsh,’ French, Swiss,

Hungarian, Bavarian, and Swabian dances are always found alone. The

contrasted tempi of the better suites lent them a certain variety and

lightness.

[Illustration]

Lute music gradually ‘went out of fashion,’ as Thomas Mace,

himself a composer for the lute, remarked, because it was ‘a very

chargeable instrument’ and ‘the hardest instrument in the world.’ In

the meantime certain composers were writing chamber music for which

no special instrument was indicated. Of this class of instrumental

compositions we may mention especially a _Canzon da sonare a 4_,

by Florentino Maschera from his _Libro primo de canzoni da sonare

a 4_ (1593). It is called _La Capriola_ and is written for basso,

tenore, alto, e canto. Maschera’s canzonas are among the earliest

printed specimens of independent instrumental compositions. Their

phrase structure is very irregular. One canzona, for instance, has an

introduction of twenty-one measures, followed by a longer piece of six

periods of 22, 21, 18, 19, and 23 measures. On the whole, Maschera’s

instrumental compositions are vocal in character and polyphonic

in style. Almost the same may be said of the _Canzoni_ and _Sacræ

Symphoniæ_ of Giov. Gabrieli (1597), although his _Sonata con tre

violini and canzoni a 6_ (two violins, _cornetto_, _tenore_, _trombone_

and bass) (1615) show an advance in instrumental writing. In Gabrieli’s

_Sonata piano e forte_, we meet for the first time the term ‘Sonata.’

This composition is scored for a double choir of instruments, the

first consisting of a cornet and three trombones, and the second of a

violin and three trombones. These two choirs are employed antiphonally.

Gabrieli usually preferred to score his sonatas and canzonas for eight

instruments in two choirs, but not infrequently he wrote from four to

twenty-two parts in one or three choirs.

In comparing Gabrieli with Maschera we get the impression that while

Maschera’s canzonas are song-like, Gabrieli’s polyphonic style

represents rudimentary symphonic music.

A link in the evolution of chamber music form is to be found in the

_Fantasie overo Canzoni alla Francese per suonare nell’organo ed altri

stromenti musicali a 4_, by Adriano Banchieri (1603). In some of these

pieces the first part corresponds with the third, the second part

appearing as a kind of middle movement, an arrangement that shows the

elements of the three-part form of the modern sonata.

We have seen that chamber music included dances (single and in suites)

and compositions of free invention. The names of the former class of

pieces clearly expressed and described the character of the music. The

terms applied to compositions of free invention, however, were not

strictly defined, and compositions with scarcely any difference between

them were variously entitled Sonata, Fantasia, Simphonia and Canzona.

To illustrate the uncertain terminology of the time we may quote the

following from Prætorius’ _Syntagma Musicum_ (1618): ‘In my personal

opinion there is still some difference between Sonatas and Canzonas.

Namely, Sonatas contain serious, solemn and pompous music, in the

manner of Motettes; while the Canzonas briskly, quickly, and merrily

pass away.’ Sometimes, however, the term ‘Sonata’ conveyed the idea of

music that was played at banquets and for dancing.

Currently with the rise of music of free invention, dances and

suites were further cultivated, as we see from the large number of

such compositions extant. The dances of Melchior Franck (1603) were

sometimes of polyphonic phraseology, sometimes of lively flowing

melodies, with irregular structure, and we find a Galliarde by Johann

Ghro (1604) consisting of periods of 13--11--11 measures. Similar

pieces by Brade (1607), Thomas Simpson (1617), Erasmus Widman (1618),

and others, showed more or less skill in handling their musical

materials. Besides single dances, we find also several interesting and

valuable collections of suites. I. H. Schein’s _Banchetto musicale_,

1617, a series of twenty suites, contains very characteristic examples

of the suite in five movements. We may quote here the beginnings of the

five movements of his tenth suite:

[Illustration: Music score]

[Illustration: Music score]

[Illustration: Music score]

[Illustration: Music score]

[Illustration: Music score]

Similar to Schein’s suites in the character of their variations are

those by Paul Bäuerl, edited six years earlier. Variations in suites

were so popular that in a work by Andreas Hammerschmidt (1639) the

author gave instructions for playing ‘Gaillarde on the 1, 2, 7,

Pavane.’ Change in the order and in the number of the single movements

is to be found in the suites of Johann Neubauer (1649). They contain

only four movements, Pavane, Gaillarde, Balletto, and Courante. The

Balletto stands for the Allemanda and Tripla, having two parts, the

first in common, the second in triple, time.

The four movement form of suite was adopted by Froberger (1649), and

by K. Briegel (1652). After the middle of the century composers began

to include in their suites movements that were not dances, such as

Canzonas, Symphonias, Sonatas, Sonatinas or Præludia. The earliest

examples of those are by I. R. Ahle (1650), Martin Rubert, Joh.

Jak. Löwe (1658), Diedrich Becker (_Musikalische Frühlingsfrüchte_,

1668), Joh. Rosenmüller (_Sonata da camera_, 1667), Joh. Petzolds

(_Leipzigische Abendmusik_, 1669), Esajas Reusser (Suites for two

violins with continuo, containing the following movements: Allemande,

Courante, Sarabande or Gavotte, Gigue, with an Adagio--called

Sonata--as introduction, 1670). Thus through the mixture of ‘suites’

with ‘sonatas’ the way was prepared for the classical chamber-sonata.

II

It must not be forgotten that an important part of early chamber

music consisted of various compositions in the form of vocal

pieces--madrigals, canons, rounds, and catches. As far as we know the

earliest printed collection of such music extant is a volume entitled

_Pammelia_ (o) _Musicks Misscellane_ (1609). The mixed variety of these

‘pleasant and delightful Roundelays’ shows skillful counterpoint and

good harmony. The names of the composers are not mentioned in the book,

but since the style of the compositions suggests great antiquity, this

collection may represent the oldest printed vocal chamber music. With

the striking progress of instrumental music, purely vocal compositions

were less and less used as chamber music, since instruments were

being used to play in unison with the voices. Such performances were

called _concertati_. Significant vocal compositions with instrumental

accompaniments were produced by Peri (1561-1633) and Caccini (d. 1618),

whose _Cantate da camera_ or _Madrigali da camera_ were mostly pieces

for a single voice accompanied by a single instrument. On the whole,

however, it is not necessary to emphasize the vocal music here, since

chamber music as we know it today represents a purely instrumental

development.

We have already referred to Gabrieli’s use of the term sonata and to

the first specimens of canzonas. Besides these we may mention a _Canzon

francese a risposta_ by Viadana (1602) for ‘violino, cornetto, two

tromboni, and basso continuo.’ The parts of the instruments that lead

the melodies are handled here as in a dialogue. The treatment of the

melody is monodic rather than contrapuntal.

Of much more interest and value are a _Sonata in dialogo_ for violin,

with basso continuo, and a _Sonata detto la moderna_, from the _Varie

Sonate_ (1613) of Salomone Rossi. Rossi’s sonatas contain good examples

of variations on a basso ostinato (_Sopra l’Aria della Romanesca_

and _Sopra l’Aria di Ruggiero_). The basses, however, are not always

strictly carried out. Rossi also cultivated variations on melodies not

in the bass. He is noted for his first attempts in the form of the trio

sonata (two violins with _basso continuo_), where, as in his simpler

and shorter ‘Sinfonias,’ the homophonic style is predominant. His

compositions have thematic unity, and he sometimes demands the changing

of his _tempi_ (_Si replica l’ultima parte ma piu presto_).

Similar to Rossi’s trio sonatas are those by Buonamente (1626), who

is likewise fond of variations and of writing in dialogues for two

violins. In his _Sonate a 3_ (for two violins and string-bass) the bass

has a more important rôle than a mere accompaniment; it also helps to

carry the themes, showing a tendency toward independent movement. A

sonata (113 measures long) arouses our interest by the development of

the first three notes of its theme [Illustration: Music score] that

reappears in the following manner [Illustration: Music score] reminding

us of the C minor symphony of Beethoven. Some of Buonamente’s sonatas

end with the complete form of the original themes as if to unify the

whole composition--a characteristic we again find in Beethoven (i.e.,

at the end of the first movement of the eighth symphony). The single

themes and the lack of variety in tempi lend a certain monotony to

Buonamente’s compositions, though otherwise they are very interesting.

Another writer of sonatas in Rossi’s manner is Francesco Turini (_Tanto

tempo hormai_, 1624). His compositions, too, are in the form of

variation suites, where the same bass, with slight changes in rhythm

and character, is used in all movements. For the sake of completeness

we may also mention G. Allegri’s sonatas for four string instruments,

which may be considered crude early specimens of the string quartet.

An important advance in chamber music compositions is marked by B.

Marini, who introduced into the trio sonata a second theme, contrasting

strongly in rhythm with the first. This new second theme is announced

simultaneously with the first when the latter appears for the second

time thus:

[Illustration: Music score]

Marini is also notable for the use of chromatics in his later works

(1651) and his effective instrumental writing. He did not, however,

lay special stress upon developing the idea of the new theme nor upon

giving more independence to the two leading instruments. Frescobaldi

also failed to recognize the possibilities of the second motive in his

trio sonatas (1628). The idea, however, was well developed by Tarquinio

Merula (especially in a sonata called _La Pedrina_, 1637), whose works

(_Canzoni da sonar_, 1615, _Canzoni overo Sonate concertate da chiesa

e camera a 2 e 3_, 1637, etc.) show not only more proficiency in

instrumental writing, but also greater independence in the single parts

and more individuality in the bass parts. Merula’s compositions have a

sort of jovial humor, and on the whole they produce a more satisfactory

general effect than those of his predecessors.

Of minor importance are the _Sinfonie ad uno e duoi violini, a duoi

trombone, con il partimento per l’organo con alcune quattro viole_,

1629, by Mont’Albano, and the few chamber music compositions (besides

solo sonatas) by Fontana (1630, 1641), whose graceful melodies are

suggestive of the coming era. In further developing the forms of

chamber music (mostly in trio sonatas) an important place belongs to

Maurizio Cazzati (d. 1677), who is distinguished especially for his

clear-cut melodies. The following from his sonata, _La Lucilla_ (1648),

is a good example:

[Illustration: Music score]

Here the contrasting second theme is brought in before the exposition

of the first is completed. _La Lucilla_ has repose and thoughtfulness

instead of the restlessness usual in similar compositions. It is in

four parts and ends with the first theme without the contrasting second

motive.

[Illustration]

"The concert"; painting by Terborch.

Among other chamber music composers of the middle of the seventeenth

century, we may point out Massimiliano Neri, who first used the terms

sonata and canzona without any distinction. After his time the term

canzona was less and less used and the name sonata finally became

general for all instrumental chamber music compositions. Neri’s works

are characteristic products of the century. His scoring for three to

twelve instruments, his restless changing of rhythm and tempo, his lack

of unity and ‘development,’ are the ever-present signs of the age in

which he wrote. Still, his construction of phrase, his modulations,

his more graceful figures show an improvement upon the writing of his

predecessors. The following analysis of his Sonata in nine movements

(1651) for two violins, viola and bass--another ancestor of the modern

string quartet--shows the looseness of form which was characteristic of

all contemporary instrumental music:

Movement I: in 4/4--46 measures

Movement II: Adagio in 3/2--20 measures

Movement III: Allegro in 4/4--26 measures

Movement IV: Adagio in 4/4--8 measures

Movement V: Allegro in 6/4--22 measures

Movement VI: Adagio in 4/4--6 measures

Movement VII: Allegro in 3/4--24 }

} 56 measures

Adagio in 3/4--32 }

Movement VIII: Allegro in 4/4--5 measures

Movement IX: Presto in 4/4--9 measures

Among writers of sonatas who varied less the number of movements we

may notice Nicolaus Kempi (Sonatas and ‘Symphonies’ for 1-3 violins,

1-5 instruments, 1644, 1647, 1669), who employed the four movements of

the modern cyclical sonata form, thus:

I. A pathetic movement (in the style of the Pavane).

II. An Allegro movement (imitative).

III. Gaillarde or Courante.

IV. Similar to the first movement (with figurative elements).

Although Kempi’s compositions show some improvement in fluency, they

are otherwise of little interest.

Of far more eminence is Giovanni Legrenzi, the first composer of

chamber music who abandoned entirely the term canzone. He is rightly

called a ‘master of first rank,’ and his harmonies, chromatics (in the

Sonata _La Cornava_, 1655), and modulations are noteworthy. In his trio

sonatas (_La Rosetta_, 1671) and in his _Sonata a 5: La Fugazza_, he

demonstrated that a few instruments could be made to express musical

ideas of genuine value.

Among the minor sonata writers of this period we may mention Mazzolini

(_Sonate per camera a 3_, containing preludes and dances), Mazzaferrata

(_Sonate a due violini: con un basetto viola_, 1674, all in four

movements), Bononcini (_Sonate da chiesa_ and ‘Symphonie’ for two to

eight instruments 1666, 1678), Tonini, C. A. Marini, Grossi, Taglietti,

Rugieri, Vinacesi, Zanata, Charelli, and Gighi.

Practically all the compositions we have noticed possess for us little

interest apart from their significance in the evolution of chamber

music. To a modern ear their appeal is very slight. Historically,

however, they are of importance, constituting as it were the

substructure upon which the edifice of chamber music has been reared.

Between them and the music which has a genuine artistic appeal and an

emotional content lies a sort of transition stage in which the most

notable names are Giovanni Battista Vitali, Antonio Veracini, and

Giovanni Bassani.

III

Vitali is the dance composer _par excellence_ of the seventeenth

century. His _Correnti e balletti da camera a 2 violini col suo basso

continuo_ (1666) have melodic value and clarity of structure and form.

In his _Balletti correnti, e capricci per camera_ for two violins and

bass (1683), in his _Sonate da camera_ for two violins and bass (1667),

and in sonatas for two to five instruments (1669) we find inspiration,

expression, and a dignified style. Vitali’s sonatas consist of three

movements. The first and the last are in fast 4/4 time, and in fugal

style; the middle, in 3/4 or 3/2 time, is more tranquil in character.

Sometimes a short _largo_ precedes the first movement, sometimes

a largo is inserted before or after the middle movement. The two

allegros are thematically connected. In one sonata Vitali uses the same

theme through all three movements with a dexterity that suggests the

influence of his teacher, Cazzati.

Antonio Veracini (1690) was not a fertile composer, and he is

important rather for his personal influence than for the volume of his

work. His _Sonate a 3_, _Sonate da chiesa a violino e violoncello_

and _Sonate da camera a 2_, possess nobility and individuality of

style, with a certain melodic originality. His forms are clear, his

contrapuntal combinations not unattractive, and all his details with

a few exceptions show careful workmanship. His adagios are especially

fine.[60]

Giovanni Battista Bassani, too, derives his importance largely from

his personal influence, especially as the teacher of Arcangelo Corelli.

Bassani’s chamber music compositions include _Balletti, Correnti,

Gighue e Sarabande a violino e violono overo spinetta, con il secondo

violino_ (1673); twelve _sonate da camera_ (each containing four

dances in the following order: _1--Balletto, 2--Corrento, 3--Gigha,

and 4--Sarabanda)_; _Sinfonie a due o tre instrumenti con il basso

continuo per l’organo_ (1638), in which each single piece bears the

title of ‘sonata.’ All these compositions are interesting rather than

attractive; though while emphasizing and broadening the technique

and form of his predecessors, Bassani improved upon their harmony

and exhibited more fluency and smoothness through better modulations

and transitional passages. We may note especially his independent

part-writing, his rythmic steadiness, and his ingenious working-out

of motives taken from the main theme. The device of developing themes

in contrapuntal works had been variously used since Gabrieli, but the

credit for first resolving a theme into its motives and working with

them skillfully belongs to Bassani. The following examples will clearly

show Bassani’s skill in thematic development.

The theme of a Sonata (for two violins, violoncello ad libitum and

organ, 1683):

[Illustration: Music score]

The motives:

[Illustration: Music score]

and

[Illustration: Music score]

[Illustration: Music score]

Here again we are reminded of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.

The large amount of chamber music composed toward the end of the

seventeenth century is eloquent of the popularity of this class of

composition. In fact chamber music was so much favored that a certain

Thomas Britton (in London) formed a chamber music club (1678) and

gave weekly concerts for thirty-six years, at first free of charge

but afterwards at a subscription fee of ten shillings. Later, similar

and stronger organizations came to play an important part in the

development of music.

IV

We now arrive at an epoch in chamber music where for the first time

we meet with works that are today deemed worthy of performance for

their purely musical value. The beginning of this era is marked by

the name of Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713). Corelli’s music is simple

and expressive in style and is distinguished by a peculiarly ascetic

and spiritual quality suggestive of the church. It is plastic and

concise in thought and dignified and noble in utterance. Corelli

was not a pioneer. It was his mission to synthesize into a more

logical and graceful whole the musical effects discovered by his many

predecessors, and his highly individual genius enabled him to do this

with a distinction which makes his name a landmark in the progress of

the art of music. In analyzing Corelli’s compositions we find graceful

harmonies, fluent modulations and pleasingly regular, well-balanced

phrase structures. His musical ideas, especially in the adagio

movements, have dignity, grace and lucidity. His allegros, although not

lacking in dignity, do not stand on the high artistic level of his slow

movements.

Corelli’s earliest chamber works are included in a collection of _XII

Sonate a tre, due violini e violone col Basso per l’organo_, op. 1

(1683). In these church-sonatas his strong individuality is already

apparent, although Bassani’s influence is clearly recognizable. Some

passages lack beauty and are not very pleasing to the ear. The sonatas

consist of four movements, as follows: adagio, allegro, adagio,

allegro. Sometimes the first slow movement is replaced by an allegro,

and the second movement is in a related key. The seventh sonata has

only three movements: allegro, adagio and allegro.

The next series, _XII Sonate a camera a tre, due violini e violone e

cembalo_, op. 2 (1685), consists of idealized dances with a prelude

(largo or adagio). The third sonata of this collection has the

following movements: Prelude (largo), Allemande (allegro), adagio (of

free invention), and Allemande. The twelfth sonata has a _Ciaccona_ and

a longer allegro movement. Corelli’s talent appears to better advantage

in his _Sonate da chiesa a 3_ (1689) and in _Sonate da camera a 3_

(1694) which in form are similar to his previous sonatas. Most of them

are in the suite form; some consist of movements of abstract nature,

some show a combination of different forms.

The period of chamber music composition inaugurated by Corelli lasted

until about the middle of the eighteenth century. It is characterized

by a mixture of contemporary and older monodic and polyphonic styles,

with a strong tendency toward independent, individual part writing. In

this period Corelli’s pupils and imitators produced valuable works,

though they could not surpass their master. Among his more prominent

pupils may be mentioned F. Geminiani (1680-1782) and P. A. Locatelli

(1690-1764). Geminiani’s works (sonatas for two violins and 'cello, and

sonatas for two violins and bass) possess neither individuality nor

enduring merit, but they claim attention for the careful marking of

dynamic nuances. In Locatelli’s sonatas for two violins and cembalo,

the virtuoso element is too strong to make them good examples of pure

ensemble writing. The same may be said of Torelli’s (d. 1708) _Concerti

da camera_ for two violins and bass, _Sinfonie_ for two, three and four

instruments, _Balletti da camera_ for three violins and bass, _Sinfonie

a 3_, _Conzerti a 4_, _Conzerti musicali a 4_, and _Caprici musicali

per camera_, for violin, viola and archlute. Torelli helped to fuse

the _Sonata da camera_ with the _Sonata da chiesa_ and is notable as

the first to use the term concerto. In general the violinist-composers

of the period preferred to cultivate solo sonatas and concertos which

would demonstrate the virtuosity of the performers. The elevation of

chamber music through serious and pure ensemble writing was not at all

their aim. This was notably the case with F. M. Veracini (1685-1750),

a pupil and cousin of Antonio Veracini, and with T. Antonio

Vitali--_Sonate da chiesa_ for violin and 'cello (1693), _Sonate_ for

two violins and bass, _Conzerto di Sonate a violino e violoncello e

cembalo_ (1701).

The most prominent and gifted of Corelli’s immediate successors was

Antonio Vivaldi (died 1743). His early compositions were ‘wild and

irregular,’ but later, under the influence of Corelli’s pure style, he

acquired an ‘elegant manner of writing’ that was often entirely free

from contrapuntal phraseology. His works (_Sinfonie_, _Sonate_, etc.)

became the models of his time and exercised a strong influence even

upon Bach. On the whole, however, he pandered chiefly to the prevailing

passion for virtuosity. His sonatas are written in three movements.

The opening movement still lacks the ‘song-like’ second theme of the

modern sonata-movement, and its first theme is long, consisting of

several brief, slightly-developed motives. His second movements closely

resemble the preludes of his fellow-composers.

Up to the time of Haydn and Boccherini we find very few important

works in ensemble chamber music. The solo sonata was chiefly cultivated

and from it the sonata form really was developed. So we find that the

instrumental compositions of Alessandro Scarlatti (1659-1725) are not

of much value (sonata for two flutes, two violins and _continuo_,

sonatas for flute, sonatas for three flutes and continuo). His _Sonate

a quattro_ (string-quartets of archaic style) in which tediously

developed figures are the principal movements and only the little

‘brisk minuettos’ have a certain modernity, are below the artistic

standard established by Corelli. Much the same may be said of

François Couperin’s (1668-1733) trio sonatas entitled _La Parnasse ou

l’apothéose de Corelli_, and other trios for two violins and bass, and

_Pièces de viole_, published in 1724-26.

The two great composers, John Sebastian Bach and George Frederick

Handel, also produced more valuable works in the form of solo sonatas,

suites, and concertos than in ensembles. Bach’s concertos are often

classified as chamber music and indeed the grouping of the solo

instruments of his Brandenburg concertos resembles chamber music

combinations. In his trio sonatas for two violins and thorough-bass, or

for flute, violin and thorough-bass, Bach employed the three movement

form of Vivaldi. Handel[61] cultivated the four and five movement form

of Corelli.

Much of Handel’s chamber music is in point of view of form strikingly

in advance of his time. Many of his sonatas contain movements which,

within a comparatively brief compass, follow strictly the general

outlines of the sonata form. The second movements of two of his solo

sonatas, in A and D, and of the sonata in C minor for flute and violin,

are good instances.

In tracing the evolution of modern principles in chamber music we

have mentioned only those composers who were of striking importance in

the development of the genre. It did not seem practical to divide the

field to be covered into periods, since up to Corelli no works were

sufficiently original or individual to establish a new school or new

style. In the works between Gabrieli’s first attempts in the field of

chamber music and those of Corelli, Bach and Handel, we recognize the

elementary principles of modern form, harmony, thematic development and

instrumentation. It is this phase of the development of chamber music

that prepared the way for Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, the greatest

masters of pure instrumental music.

E. K.

FOOTNOTES:

[59] Distinction between church music and chamber music, as far as can

be ascertained, was first made by Nic. Vicentino in 1555 in a work

entitled _L’antica musica ridotta alla moderna_. The term chamber

music had its origin in the practice of rich citizens and princes who

regularly kept in their service musicians to provide private concerts

in their chambers (_camera_) for the delectation of their friends. The

musicians thus employed were given the title of chamber musicians, or

chamber singers. The official title of chamber musician--_suonatore

di violino da camera_--was probably used for the first time by Carlo

Farina (1627) in the service of the court at Dresden.

[60] It was G. B. Vitali whom Henry Purcell (1658-1695) ‘faithfully

endeavored to imitate’ in his ‘Sonatas of three parts: two violins

and bass: to the Organ or Harpsichord.’ Purcell’s twelve sonatas show

power, originality, and inspiration, and are not lacking in emotional

content of considerable warmth.

[61] Trio sonatas for two oboes and bassoons (1693), Chamber duets

(1711), Trio sonatas for two violins (or two oboes or two flutes) and

bassoon (1732), Sonatas or Trios (1737), four Chamber Duets (1741), two

Chamber Duos, Chamber Duets (1745).

CHAPTER XV

THE FIRST PERIOD OF THE STRING QUARTET

The four-part habit of writing in instrumental

forms--Pioneers of the string quartet proper: Richter,

Boccherini and Haydn; Haydn’s early quartets--The Viennese

era of the string quartet; Haydn’s _Sonnen_ quartets; his

‘Russian’ quartets; his later quartets--W. A. Mozart;

Sammartini’s influence; Mozart’s early (Italian) quartets;

Viennese influences; Mozart’s Viennese quartets--His last

quartets and their harmonic innovations.

The greater part of the vocal music of the fifteenth and early

sixteenth centuries was written in four parts, masses and motets as

well as _chansons_. Only the madrigal was normally in five. After

the middle of the sixteenth century, however, composers inclined to

increase the number of parts, until four-part writing became rare.

During the seventeenth century, while the art of instrumental music

was growing rapidly, composers centred their attention either on groups

of several instruments, which we may call primitive orchestras, or

on one or two solo instruments supported by the figured bass of the

harpsichord. Therefore, about the middle of the eighteenth century,

when sonatas and symphonies took on their modern form, instrumental

compositions were usually for orchestra, or for a trio, or for a solo

instrument with harpsichord accompaniment. But besides these there

were many works of indistinct form and name; and not a few of these

were written in four parts. Hardly before 1750 can such sonatas or

symphonies _a quattro_ be considered string quartets in the present

meaning of the word. They are planned and executed in an orchestral

manner.

I

Franz Xaver Richter (1709-1789), Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), and

Luigi Boccherini (1743-1804) brought the string quartet into popular

favor. Richter was, next to Johann Stamitz, the most significant of

the composers at one time or another associated with the orchestra at

Mannheim, who may properly be called the founders of the classical

symphony. Six of his string quartets were published in London between

1767 and 1771. These were probably written much earlier. One finds in

them the now clearly defined sonata-form; a careful writing for each

of the four instruments (two violins, viola, and 'cello), which, of

course, marks the disappearance of the figured bass from music of this

kind; finally an intimacy of sentiment rather distinct from the hearty

music of the young Mannheim symphonies.

Luigi Boccherini, for many years supposed to have created the string

quartet out of his head, is now generally recognized as a disciple of

the Mannheim reformers. He was himself a brilliant 'cellist. In 1768

his performances at the _Concerts spirituels_ brought him and his

compositions into fame. He held court positions at Madrid, later was

chamber-composer to Frederick Wilhelm II, of Prussia; and after the

death of this king in 1797 went back again to Spain, where, unhappily,

in spite of the friendly patronage of Lucien Buonaparte, the French

ambassador, he was overtaken by poverty and misery.

As a composer of chamber music he was unusually prolific. He wrote no

less than one hundred and twenty-five string _quintets_, one hundred

and thirteen of which are for two violins, viola, and two 'celli; and

there were at least ninety-one string quartets from his easy pen. The

first six of these were composed about 1761, and were published in

Paris in 1768, while Boccherini was in that city. They appeared as _Sei

Sinfonie_, or _Sei Quartetti_, for two violins, alto, and violoncello,

dedicated to amateurs and connoisseurs of music.

A sympathetic writer on Boccherini’s life and work[62] said of these

first quartets that in them the composer revealed himself entirely.

‘His taste, his style, his easy touch, his genius show themselves

suddenly with a superiority, an understanding of the art, which leave

similar works by his predecessors far behind. He thus becomes creator

of this _genre_, of which he fixes the true character forever. Other

great masters who have come since have doubtless modified and extended

the domain of the Trio, the Quartet, and the Quintet, but following

the road which he had the glory first to trace. When one approaches

the works of his immediate predecessors and of his contemporaries, and

compares them with his, one cannot but admire the complete revolution,

ahead of the time and yet sure, accomplished at the first shot, and

without hesitation, by a young artist of twenty-one years!’

This is extravagant. Boccherini is not now considered the creator of

a new style. Indeed, there is no musician to whom alone the invention

of any musical form may be ascribed. But his writing is clear and

fluent, and intimately adapted to the string instruments for which it

was conceived. These first quartets are said to have been especially

admired by the great violinist Viotti.

It is unhappily true that Boccherini does reveal himself entirely

in the first six of his published works. Subsequent works show little

sign of advance or development. In his work as a whole there is a fatal

sameness. Too much gentle elegance has driven out humor and genuine

vigorous life. For this reason a great part of it has fallen into

oblivion. Yet it does not lack charm, and is, indeed, conspicuous for

excellent treatment of the slender tone-material.

[Illustration]

Pioneers of the String Quartet. From top left to bottom right:

Luigi Boccherini, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Joseph Haydn,

Franz Xaver Richter.

Haydn’s string quartets are immensely more vigorous. Three sets of

six were published in Paris between 1764 and 1769.[63] These first

eighteen of his numerous works in this form had been written some ten

years earlier, while Haydn was at the house of Joseph von Fürnberg in

Weinzirl, near Melk, not far from Vienna. The young nobleman was an

enthusiastic amateur of music and was accustomed to invite friends to

his house to practise and play with him all sorts of chamber music. He

suggested to Haydn, who had in some way become known to him, possibly

by some early trios, that he write a string quartet. This Haydn did,

and his music made such a favorable impression that the fame of it

spread rapidly abroad. There followed seventeen more quartets, all

written for the group of musicians whom Fürnberg had gathered round

him. In this group were men who played the horn, the oboe, and the

flute; and some of these first eighteen quartets were originally

composed for strings and wind. The wind players were, however,

unskillful, and Haydn contented himself for the most part in writing

for only the four strings.

It is interesting to note that Haydn wrote these quartets as

_Cassations_, _Divertimenti_, and _Notturni_;[64] a fact which goes

far to show how loose was the terminology of instrumental music even

as late as 1755. Cassation, divertimento, serenade, notturno, all

meant about the same thing: a piece of music in several movements of

light character, usually arranged for a band of both wind and string

instruments. They differed from the sonata and from the growing

symphony in number of movements. There were usually at least five.

These early quartets of Haydn’s were printed in Paris as symphonies,

symphony still being applicable to any piece of music written for more

than three instruments.

It would seem, then, that Haydn wrote his quartets just to suit the

requirements of a happy circumstance; that he had no idea of creating

a new art form; that he applied to music for four instruments the

principles of form with which he was already familiar through the works

of Emanuel Bach, and which, moreover, were becoming more and more

familiar to the world by reason of the popular fame of the Mannheim

symphonies. But by this happy circumstance he came upon the special

branch of music which to the end remained wholly fitting to his genius.

As to the special form of these first quartets there is little to say.

The first twelve, with one exception, have five movements apiece.

Of these, two are usually minuets. The first is usually in the

sonata-form. The fifth quartet has three movements. It was undoubtedly

not only originally conceived as a symphony, but was actually so

played, and may, therefore, be called Haydn’s first symphony. Of the

last six quartets four have four movements; the fourteenth has three

and the sixteenth is the only one of Haydn’s quartets with but two

movements. In this very first series, written for the pleasure of a

music-loving young nobleman, Haydn found himself. They show each after

the other a steady progress in the treatment of instruments, in the

management of form; and, finally, seem to show a decision, henceforth

maintained almost without exception, to limit the number of movements

to four.

All are full of that spirit of joy and healthiness which has ever

been associated with Haydn’s music in general. They introduced a new

spirit into the art of music--the spirit of humor, sunny and naïve.

On account of this they were welcomed in all the countries of Europe,

and spread such general delight that before the middle of the ‘sixties

Haydn was among the best known of all musicians. A Parisian publisher

named Vénier included the first six of Haydn’s quartets in a series of

works _di varii autori_ which were published in Paris about 1764 with

the motto: _Les noms inconnus bons à connaître._ In this series there

were forty-six numbers, of which Haydn’s quartets formed the sixth.

Other composers represented were Jomelli, Stamitz, Christian Bach and

Boccherini.[65] By 1765 editions had appeared in Amsterdam and in

London as well.

II

During the years Haydn lived at Esterhazy he composed between forty

and fifty string quartets. These were published usually in groups

of six, after 1781 by Artaria; and the appearance of a fresh set of

Haydn’s quartets was announced in the papers of Vienna and Berlin, and

was occasion for enthusiasm among the amateurs of most of the great

capitals of Europe. It was the age of the string quartet, a time when

amateurs and dilettanti, men of wealth and influence, often of culture,

met at least once a week to play together. Musicians were everywhere in

demand.

Haydn wrote six quartets (opus 9, Nos. 1-6) in the year 1769, numbers

21-26, inclusive, in Pohl’s index, and six more before 1771, numbers

27-32. In both these series the treatment of the first violin is

conspicuous, and it is noteworthy that during these years he wrote

most of his concertos for the violin. The first and last movements of

the quartet in C major, No. 21 (opus 9, No. 1), seem to be almost solo

music for the first violin, which not only introduces all the principal

themes, but which in many pages adds brilliant ornament. In the first

movement of No. 24 (opus 9, No. 4), in D minor, again one is reminded

of a violin concerto. Likewise in the first movement of No. 22 (opus

9, No. 2), in E-flat major; and before the end of the slow movement in

this quartet, which here, as in most of these two series, is the third

movement, following the minuet, an elaborate cadenza is written out for

the first violin. In the quartets Nos. 27-32 (opus 17, Nos. 1-6), such

a brilliant treatment of the first violin is even more conspicuous. The

other instruments play for the most part the rôle of accompaniment. The

quartets are all in four movements and in the majority, as has been

said, the minuet is the second movement and the slow movement is the

third.

Over all there is the delightful play of Haydn’s humor. Perhaps the

best known and loved of the series is that in G major, No. 31 (opus 17,

No. 5).

The next series of six quartets, Nos. 33-38 (opus 20, Nos. 1-6), were

written about 1774 and were known in Berlin as the _Sonnen_ quartets.

In 1800 they were published by Artaria in Vienna and dedicated by Haydn

to Nicolaus Zmeskall von Domanowecz, one of the earliest admirers of

Beethoven, to whom, by the way, the latter dedicated his own quartet

in F minor, opus 95. The earlier quartets, for all they were generally

hailed with praise and admiration, had not gone wholly scatheless.

There were conservatives, especially in the north of Germany, who

looked askance at the entrance of humor into music, who felt the art

was in danger thereby of degradation, who regarded Haydn as a musical

joke-maker. These quartets, Nos. 33-38, may have been written by

Haydn to prove his command of what was considered the indisputably

serious and dignified art of composition. All are contrapuntal in

style, intricate and serious in manner if not in mood. In the first

movement of the first (opus 20, No. 1), in E-flat major, the style is

compact and full of imitations. The minuet is short; the slow movement,

_affettuoso et sostenuto_, closely and richly woven, distinctly

polyphonic music.

The second of the series in C major (opus 20, No. 2) has for its final

movement a fugue with four subjects, and the last movements of the

fifth and sixth are both fugues, the former on two, the latter on three

subjects. The entire series at once became currently known as the

‘great’ quartets.

In 1781 another series of six (opus 33, Nos. 1-6) was published by

Artaria in Vienna. A female figure on the carefully engraved title-page

gave to the set for some time the name of _Jungfern Quartette_; but

they are now more generally known as the Russian quartets. They were

dedicated to Archduke Paul of Russia, and had been played at the

apartments of the Archduchess during a visit to Vienna. They have also

gone by the name of _Gli Scherzi_, for the reason that in each the

place of the minuet is taken by a scherzo.[66] They bear the numbers

39-44 in Pohl’s index. No. 41 (opus 33, No. 3) is perhaps the best

known; and has often been called the ‘Bird Quartet.’ The first movement

suggests the twitter and song of birds, partly by the nature of the

principal theme, with its four long notes and their graces, and the

descending turning figures which follow them; and partly by the nature

of the accompaniment, which is staccato or half staccato throughout,

now in naïvely repeated thirds shared by second violin and viola,

now in figures that imitate the chirping of the principal theme. The

trio of the second movement suggests birds again. It is a dialogue

between first and second violins, staccato and chirping throughout, in

effective contrast with the main body of the movement, which is legato,

and _sotto voce_ as well. The Adagio is wonderfully calm and hushed.

The last movement, to quote Pohl, brings the cuckoo with fresh life and

all the forest folk answer him. ‘The merry figures fly from voice to

voice, after each other, against each other, in twos and threes, all

with the “springing” bow.’

In the _Musikalisches Kunstmagazin_ for 1782 there is a criticism

of these quartets and of six symphonies which appeared about the

same time, by J. F. Reichardt, part of which may be quoted. ‘Both

these works are full of the most original humor, the liveliest and

pleasantest wit. No composer has so united individuality and variety

with pleasantness and popularity as Haydn; and few of the agreeable

and favorite composers have such a good command of form as Haydn shows

himself for the most part to have. It is especially interesting to

observe with critical eye the progress of Haydn’s work. In his very

first works, which were well known among us some twenty years ago,

there were signs of his peculiar good-natured humor; rather for the

most part youthful spirits and unrestrained jollity, with a superficial

treatment of harmonies. Then little by little his humor grew more

manly, his work more thoughtful, until now the mature originality, the

firm artist, show in all his work.’ Haydn sent a copy of these quartets

to Frederick William II of Prussia, who acknowledged the gift with

pleasure and sent as a token of his esteem for the now universally

admired musician a gold medal and his picture.

These six quartets published in 1781 show Haydn in full command of

the art of the quartet. They must have served in a way as foundations

for all subsequent writing for a similar group of four instruments,

surely so for Mozart and Beethoven. The earlier quartets showed now an

experimental mood, particularly as regards the treatment of the first

violin, now serious endeavor to disprove the critics who cried out that

he had no genuine skill. In these Russian quartets there is perfect

treatment of each of the instruments, an even disposition of the music

between them all. His mastery shows in the movement of the two inner

voices, whereby a constant and at the same time varied sonority is

procured. The balance of form is secure, the sequence and length of the

movements as well. Only in one particular does he seem unwilling to

decide. This is the place of the minuet, which even now he most often

makes second in the group. With all this development of skill he has

lost nothing of his prevailing cheerfulness, nothing of his spontaneous

humor, nothing of his gift of melody. The quartets are perfect as the

expression of his own individuality, till now practically uninfluenced

by other musicians.

Immediately after, Mozart settled in Vienna. In 1785 he published the

famous six quartets written as proof of his admiration for Haydn, his

friend even more than his master. Haydn’s excellent opinion, indeed

his unqualified admiration, of Mozart is well known. The two men acted

favorably upon each other and the work of the older man was hardly

less influenced by that of the younger than that of the younger by the

older. However, the individuality of both was strong. To compare their

compositions is always to find in what ways they are dissimilar rather

than in what ways they copied each other. Haydn never wrote with the

inexplicable grace of Mozart; nor did Mozart put into his music the

wholly naïve and spontaneous gaiety of Haydn. Mozart gained from Haydn

in conciseness of form, Haydn from Mozart in refinement of style.

Such a gain shows in the six quartets (opus 50, Nos. 1-6) published

in 1787 and dedicated by Haydn to the king of Prussia. These are in

Pohl’s index, Nos. 45 to 50. The first movements are all distinctly

Haydn in treatment, though a touch of seriousness in No. 48 (opus 50,

No. 4) suggests Mozart. The second movements are all slow; and in all

six quartets the minuet has come back to its regular place as third

in the group. The last movement of No. 48 is in the form of a fugue.

The last movements of Nos. 45, 46, 47, and 49 (opus 50, Nos. 1, 2, 3,

5), however, are in Haydn’s inimitable manner. In the last movement of

No. 46 (opus 50, No. 2) there is a suggestion of a theme from Mozart’s

‘Magic Flute.’ No. 50 (opus 50, No. 6) has the nickname ‘Frog Quartet.’

In 1789 and in 1790, respectively, two more sets appeared, both

dedicated to Monsieur Jean Tost. These are opus 54, Nos. 1-3, and opus

55, Nos. 1-3; and opus 64, Nos. 1-6. In Pohl’s index they are Nos.

51-62, inclusive. Johann Tost was a rich merchant in Vienna who was

not only a patron of music but an excellent performer on the violin

himself, and later closely associated with Spohr. As if wishing to give

Tost full chance in these quartets to display his skill on the first

violin, Haydn has consistently given to that instrument an unusually

conspicuous part. He not only writes for it in the highest registers,

as, for instance, in the Trio of opus 55, No. 1; but frequently allots

to the other instruments the rôle of simplest accompaniment, as in the

first movement of opus 54, No. 2. The favorite of the series is perhaps

that in D major, opus 64, No. 5, the last movement of which is in

perpetual, rapid motion, the first violin being the most active.

Prince Esterhazy, Haydn’s patron, died in September, 1790. Shortly

after, Haydn went upon his first visit to London. His life was full

of occupation with the last symphonies, written for Salomon, the

London manager, and with his two great oratorios, ‘The Creation’ and

the ‘Seasons.’ Only a few more quartets are to be mentioned. Opus 71

and opus 73 both consist of three quartets. Opus 76 contains six, and

the whole set was dedicated to Count Erdödy. In this series two are

conspicuous. The first movement of that in D minor, opus 76, No. 2,

is built on a simple, impressive motive of four notes. The adagio of

opus 76, No. 3, is a set of variations on the hymn, _Gott erhalte Franz

der Kaiser_, which Haydn had composed in January, 1797, and which has

since become, as Haydn hoped it would, the national hymn of Austria.

The variations are justly admired; and the quartet has been called on

account of them the ‘Kaiser quartet.’ Finally there are two quartets,

published as opus 77 and dedicated to Prince Lobkowitz. The minuet and

andante of the second are given special mention by Sauzay.[67] The last

quartet of all, published posthumously as opus 103, is unfinished.

It consists of but two movements, the second of which is a minuet.

Evidently without hope of completing it, Haydn wrote at the end of the

minuet a few bars of melody from a vocal quartet, composed a few years

before, called _Der Greis_. The words are: _Hin ist alle meine Kraft,

Alt und schwach bin ich._ The same melody and words he had printed on

a visiting card, to be given to those who came to enquire after his

failing health.

There are in all eighty-three quartets. Instrumental music composed

to accompany the recitation in church of the seven last words of

Christ are no longer reckoned among the quartets. To Haydn more than

to any other single man belongs the honor of having established the

string quartet as a work of art and as the vehicle for noble musical

feeling. Over all the eighty-three sparkles the sun of his peculiar

and inimitable humor; yet none the less they show from start to finish

an ever-growing skill in handling the slender materials of sound,

an appreciation of the separate instruments, a knowledge of how to

dispose the parts so as to preserve a rich and varied sonority.

They recommended themselves at once to the affection as well as the

admiration of amateurs and musicians alike, and indubitably paved

the way for the quartets of Mozart and Beethoven. Through Haydn the

delicate beauty of such a combination of instruments was first made

clear to the world, and with it no little of its power to express the

finest ideals which have inspired musicians.

III

Mozart and Haydn are in no regard more different than in their

approaches to mastery of their art. Haydn received almost no

training. He developed his powers unaided and without direction. The

circumstances of his life at Esterhazy cut him off from general musical

intercourse and he was, as he himself said, practically forced to be

original. The string quartet offered him one of the happiest means of

self-expression; and to that end in general he used it, putting his

kindly humor and fun freely into music.

Mozart, on the other hand, was carefully guided, even from infancy, in

the way which custom has approved of as the proper way for a musician

to travel. Surely before he was ten years old he was no mean master

of the science of harmony and counterpoint, thanks to the strict

attentions of his father; and he was hardly out of his mother’s

arms before he was carried about Europe, to display his marvellous

genius before crowned heads of all nations, and, what is even more

significant, before the greatest musicians of his age.

One by one the influences of the men with whom he came in contact make

their appearance in his youthful music. In London there was Christian

Bach, in Paris, Jean Schobert, in Vienna, old Wagenseil; and at the

time he wrote his first string quartet--in March, 1770--he was almost

completely under the influence of Giovanni Battista Sammartini,

organist at Milan, once teacher of Gluck, and always one of the most

gifted of Italian musicians.

Haydn had no appreciation of Sammartini. He seems likewise to have

looked upon Boccherini with a cold regard. But in Italy, where Mozart

stayed from December, 1769, to March, 1771, these were both names to

conjure with; and the music of both was likely to be heard every day.

Sammartini had composed a series of _concertinos a quattro istromenti

soli_ in 1766 and 1767; and, though Mozart was surely acquainted with

the quartets of Michael Haydn, Stamitz, and Gossec, it is after those

of Sammartini that he modelled his own first quartet. Two external

features point to this: the fact that the first quartet has but three

movements,[68] which was the number customary among the Italians,

especially with Sammartini; and the treatment of the second violin,

which plays quite as great a part in the quartet as the first violin.

In addition to this there is a certain melodic elegance which was not

characteristic of German music at that time, and which seems very

closely akin to the charming nature of the works of Sammartini. The

three movements are in the same key, a fact which we may attribute to

the influence of a set of quartets by Florian Gassmann.[69]

Mozart’s next ventures with this form are the three _divertimenti_

written at Salzburg early in 1772 (K. 136, 137, 138). In these there

are traces of the influence of Michael Haydn at work on the Italian

style of which Mozart had become master. The first is distinctly in

the style of Haydn. The second is again predominantly Italian, notably

in the equal importance given to the two violins, as in the quartets

of Sammartini. The third, the most effective of the three, seems

to represent a good combination of the two other styles. The final

rondo is especially charming and brilliant. These three quartets were

probably of a set of six. The remaining three have disappeared. In

Köchel’s Index they are numbers 211, 212, and 213, in the appendix.

In the fall of the same year Mozart was again in Italy, and to this

period in his life belong six quartets (K. 155-160, inclusive). The

first seems to have been written, according to a letter from Leopold

Mozart, to pass away a weary time at an inn in Botzen. The very first

quartet of all had been written at Lodi, with much the same purpose,

two years before. This quartet in D major is, on the whole, inferior to

the five others which follow in the same series and which were probably

written within the next few months at Milan. The quartet in G major, K.

156, was probably written in November or December, 1772. It is strongly

Italian in character. Notice in the first movement a multiplicity of

themes or subjects, instead of the development of one or two, which was

the German manner. Notice, also, that among the thematic subjects the

second has the greatest importance; not, as in German quartets of this

time, the first. The second movement, an _adagio_ in E minor, has a

serious and sad beauty.