I. Allegro molto appassionato
II. Andante
III. Allegretto non troppo; allegro molto vivace
The concerto does not call for any true depth of emotional display. The
sentiment is amiable and genteel, with a dash of becoming melancholy,
and the strength is the conventional strength of a man who in music had
little virility. Beautifully made, a polished piece of mechanism, the
concerto always, under favorable circumstances, interests and promotes
contagious good feeling.
* * *
Mendelssohn in his youth composed a violin concerto with accompaniment
of stringed instruments, also a concerto for violin and pianoforte
(1823) with the same sort of accompaniment. These works were left in
manuscript. It was at the time that he was put into jackets and
trousers. Probably these works were played at the musical parties at the
Mendelssohn house in Berlin on alternate Sunday mornings. Mendelssohn
took violin lessons first with Carl Wilhelm Henning and afterwards with
Eduard Rietz, for whom he wrote this early violin concerto. When
Mendelssohn played any stringed instrument, he preferred the viola.
As early as 1838 Mendelssohn conceived the plan of composing a violin
concerto in the manner of the one in E minor, for on July 30 he wrote to
Ferdinand David: “I should like to write a violin concerto for you next
winter. One in E minor is running in my head, and the beginning does not
leave me in peace.” On July 24 of the next year he wrote from Hochheim
to David, who had pressed him to compose the concerto: “It is nice of
you to urge me for a violin concerto! I have the liveliest desire to
write one for you, and if I have a few propitious days here, I’ll bring
you something. But the task is not an easy one. You demand that it
should be brilliant, and how is such a one as I to do this? The whole of
the first solo is to be for the E string!”
The concerto was composed in 1844 and completed on September 16 of that
year at Bad Soden, near Frankfort-on-the-Main. David received the
manuscript in November. Many letters passed between the composer and the
violinist. David gave advice freely. Mendelssohn took time in revising
and polishing. Even after the score was sent to the publishers in
December, there were more changes. David is largely responsible for the
_cadenza_ as it now stands.
Mendelssohn played parts of the concerto on the pianoforte to his
friends; the whole of it to Moscheles at Bad Soden.
The first performance was from manuscript at the twentieth Gewandhaus
concert in Leipsic, March 13, 1845. Ferdinand David was the violinist.
Niels W. Gade conducted.
The concerto is in three connected movements. The first, _allegro molto
appassionato_, E minor, 2-2, begins immediately after an introductory
measure with the first theme given out by the solo violin. This theme is
developed at length by the solo instrument, which then goes on with
_cadenza_-like passage-work, after which the theme is repeated and
developed as a _tutti_ by the full orchestra. The second theme is first
given out _pianissimo_ in harmony by clarinets and flutes over a
sustained organ-point in the solo instrument. The chief theme is used in
the development which begins in the solo violin. The brilliant solo
_cadenza_ ends with a series of _arpeggios_, which continue on through
the whole announcement of the first theme by orchestral strings and
wind. The conclusion section is in regular form. There is no pause
between this movement and the _andante_.
The first section of the _andante_, C major, is a development of the
first theme sung by the solo violin. The middle part is taken up with
the development of the second theme, a somewhat agitated melody. The
third part is a repetition of the first, with the melody in the solo
violin, but with a different accompaniment. Mendelssohn originally
intended the accompaniment (strings) to the first theme to be played
_pizzicato_. He wrote to David, “I intended to write in this way, but
something or other—I don’t know what—prevented me.”
The _finale_ opens with a short introduction, _allegretto non troppo_, E
minor, 4-4. The main body of the _finale, allegro molto vivace_, E
major, 4-4, begins with calls on horns, trumpets, bassoons, drums,
answered by _arpeggios_ of the solo violin and tremolos in the strings.
The chief theme of the _rondo_ is announced by the solo instruments. The
orchestra has a second theme, B major; the violin one in G major. In the
recapitulation section the _fortissimo_ second theme appears again, this
time in E major. There is a brilliant _coda_.
Mendelssohn used the following orchestration for the works discussed
in this chapter (save for the addition of an ophicleide in the
overture to _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_): two flutes, two oboes, two
clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, kettledrums, and
strings.—EDITOR.
MODESTE PETROVITCH
MOUSSORGSKY
(Born at Karevo, district of Toropeta, in the government of Pskov, on
March 28, 1835; died at St. Petersburg on March 28, 1881)
“A NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN” (“UNE NUIT SUR LE MONT-CHAUVE”); FANTASY FOR
ORCHESTRA
Posthumous Work Completed and Orchestrated by Rimsky-Korsakov
Moussorgsky’s fantasy was composed in 1867 and was thus one of the few
early Russian orchestral compositions of a fantastically picturesque
nature. In the original form it was no doubt crude, for Moussorgsky had
little technic for the larger forms of music; he despised “style,” and
believed that much knowledge would prevent him from attaining the
realism that was his goal. That he himself was not satisfied with this
symphonic poem is shown by the fact that he revised it two or three
times. He died; Rimsky-Korsakov edited it and orchestrated it. The music
was finally heard after Moussorgsky’s death. Rimsky-Korsakov was a
fastidious musician, a learned harmonist, a master of orchestrations. It
is said that he sandpapered and polished _Boris Godounov_ to the great
detriment of Moussorgsky’s opera; he chastened the wild spirit; he tamed
the native savageness, so it is said. What did he do to this musical
picture of a Witches’ Sabbath on Bald Mountain?
Having heard several musical descriptions of these unholy Sabbaths,
where reverence was paid Satan, exultantly ruling in the form of a
he-goat, where there was horrid, obscene revelry, if we may believe
well-instructed ancient and modern writers on Satanism and witchcraft,
we wonder why any woman, young or old, straddled a broomstick and made
her way hopefully and joyfully to a lonely mountain or barren plain. If
we can put faith in the musical descriptions given by Berlioz, Boïto,
Gounod, Satan’s evening receptions were comparatively tame affairs, with
dancing of a nature that would not have offended the selectmen and their
wives and sisters of our little village in the sixties, when the waltz
was frowned on as a sensual and ungodly diversion. Liszt’s _Mephisto
Waltz_ is, indeed, sensuous, fleshly, but Satan in this instance only
plays the fiddle; he is not master of sabbatic revels. In Moussorgsky’s
symphonic poem the _allegro_ devoted to the worshipers of the devil is
rather commonplace; its laborious wildness becomes monotonous in spite
of the editor’s instrumentation. Far more original and effective is the
second section, in which a church bell puts the blasphemous revelers to
flight.
* * *
In September, 1860, Moussorgsky wrote to Balakirev: “I have also been
given a most interesting piece of work to do, which must be ready by
next summer: a whole act of _The Bald Mountain_ (after Megden’s drama
_The Witch_). The assembly of the witches, various episodes of
witchcraft, the pageant of all the sorcerers, and a _finale_, the witch
dance and homage to Satan. The libretto is very fine. I have already a
few materials for the music, and it may be possible to turn out
something very good.” In September, 1862, he wrote to Balakirev, saying
that his friend’s attitude towards _The Witches_ [_sic_] had embittered
him. “I considered, still consider, and shall consider forever that the
thing is satisfactory.... I come forth with a first big work.... I shall
alter neither plan nor working-out; for both are in close relationship
with the contents of the scene, and are carried out in a spirit of
genuineness, without tricks or make-believes.... I have fulfilled my
task as best I could. The one thing I shall alter is the percussion,
which I have misused.” A letter to Rimsky-Korsakov dated July, 1867,
shows that he did rewrite _A Night on Bald Mountain_, but remained
unwilling to make further alterations.
During the winter of 1871-72 the director of the opera at St. Petersburg
planned that Moussorgsky, Borodin, Rimsky-Korsakov, and Cui should each
write a portion of a fairy opera, _Mlada_. Moussorgsky was to write
music for some folk scenes, a march for the procession of Slav princes
and a great fantastical scene, “The Sacrifice to the Black Goat on Bald
Mountain.” This would give him the opportunity of using his symphonic
poem. The project fell through on account of pecuniary reasons.
Rimsky-Korsakov’s _Mlada_ was produced at St. Petersburg in 1892.
In 1877 Moussorgsky undertook to write an opera _The Fair at
Sorotchinsi_, based on a tale by Gogol. He purposed to introduce in it
_A Night on Bald Mountain_, and he revised the score.
It is said that the original version of the symphonic poem was for
pianoforte and orchestra; that the revision for _Mlada_ was for
orchestra and chorus; that the work was to serve as a scenic interlude
in the unfinished opera, _The Fair at Sorotchinsi_.
Rimsky-Korsakov as Moussorgsky’s musical executor revised the score of
the poem. He retained the composer’s argument:
“Subterranean din of supernatural voices. Appearance of Spirits of
Darkness, followed by that of the god Tchernobog. Glorification of
Tchernobog. Black mass. Witches’ Sabbath. At the height of the Sabbath
there sounds far off the bell of the little church in a village which
scatters the Spirits of Darkness. Daybreak.”
The form is simple: a symphonic _allegro_ is joined to a short
_andante_; _allegro feroce_; _poco meno mosso_.
_A Night on Bald Mountain_, dedicated to Vladimir Stassov, is scored for
piccolo, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns,
two trumpets, three trombones, bass tuba, kettledrums, bass drum,
cymbals, tam-tam, bell in D, and strings.
The first performance was at a concert of the Russian Symphony Society
at St. Petersburg on October 27, 1886. Rimsky-Korsakov conducted. The
piece met with such success that it was played later in that season.
WOLFGANG AMADEUS
MOZART
(Born at Salzburg, January 27, 1756; died at Vienna, December 5, 1791)
In this life that is “so daily,” as Jules Laforgue complained, a life of
tomorrow rather than of today, we are inclined to patronize the ancient
worthies who in their own period were very modern, or to speak jauntily
of them as bores, with their works of “only historical interest.” Mozart
has not escaped. Many concertgoers yawn at his name and wonder why such
men as Richard Strauss or Vincent d’Indy could praise him with glowing
cheeks. They suspect this attribute of worship to be a pose. Remind them
of the fact that to such widely different characters as Rossini, Chopin,
Tchaikovsky, Brahms, the musician of musicians was Mozart, and they say
lightly, “There’s no accounting for tastes; surely you do not pretend to
maintain that Mozart is a man of this generation.”
No, Mozart was neither a symbolist nor a pessimist. He was not a
translator of literature, sculpture, or painting into music His
imagination was not fired by a metaphysical treatise. He simply wrote
music that came into his head and disquieted him until it was jotted
down on paper. He did not go about nervously seeking for ideas. His
music is never the passionate cry, never the wild shriek of a racked
soul. His music is never hysterical, it is never morbid. It is seldom
emotional as we necessarily and unhappily understand that word today.
Perhaps for these reasons it is still modern, immortal, and not merely
on account of the long and exquisite melodic line, fitting, inevitable
background, delicate coloring. Music that is only the true voice of a
particular generation is moribund as soon as it is born.
His music, whether it vitalizes stage characters or is absolute, as in
the three famous symphonies, and in the chamber works, is as the music
on Prospero’s isle: “Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt
not.” The analyst may find pleasure in praising the unsurpassable
workmanship, which is akin to the spontaneity of natural phenomena; he
may marvel at the simplicity of plan and expression; the simplicity that
is the despair of interpreters, for it is the touchstone of their own
art or artificiality—and Mozart himself, when he told his emperor that
his opera had just the right number of notes, anticipated the judgment
of time—but he is still far from explaining the peculiar and ineffable
tenderness of this music that soothes and caresses and comforts.
The serenity, the classic suggestion of emotion without the distortion
that accompanies passion, would grace a tragedy of Sophocles or a comedy
by Congreve. Mozart’s music is essentially Grecian, yet now and then it
reminds one of Watteau.
Hazlitt said of art that it should seem to come from the air and return
to it. But he characterized it with finer appreciation when he said,
without mention of Mozart’s name, “Music is color without form; a soul
without a body; a mistress whose face is veiled; an invisible goddess.”
And for this reason Debussy is the spiritual brother of Mozart, moderns
both, yet classics.
_Symphonies in E flat (Koechel No. 543), G minor (Koechel No. 550), C
major (“Jupiter”), (Koechel No. 551)_