CHAPTER XIII

VIOLIN MUSIC IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

The perfection of the bow and of the classical technique--The French school: Kreutzer, Rode, and Baillot--Paganini: his predecessors, his life and fame, his playing, and his compositions--Ludwig Spohr: his style and his compositions; his pupils--Viennese violinists: Franz Clement, Mayseder, Boehm, Ernst and others--The Belgian school: De Bériot and Vieuxtemps--Other violinist composers: Wieniawski, Molique, Joachim, Sarasate, Ole Bull; music of the violinist-composers in general--Violin music of the great masters.

The art of violin music in the nineteenth century had its head in Paris. Few violinists with the exception of Paganini developed their powers without the model set them by the great French violinists at the beginning of the century. Most of them owed more than can be determined to the influence of Viotti. Even Spohr, who with more or less controversial spirit, wrote of the French violinists as old-fashioned, modelled himself pretty closely upon Rode; and therefore even Spohr is but a descendant of the old classical Italian school.

The technique of playing the violin was thoroughly understood by the end of the eighteenth century. Viotti himself was a brilliant virtuoso; but, trained in the classic style, he laid less emphasis upon external brilliance than upon expressiveness. The matters of double stops, trills, runs, skips and other such effects of dexterity were largely dependent upon the fingers of the left hand; and this part of technique, though somewhat hampered by holding the violin with the chin upon the right side of the tailpiece, was clearly mastered within reasonable limits by the violinists of the middle of the century, Tartini, Veracini, Nardini, Geminiani, and others. Indeed Geminiani in his instruction book recommended that the violin be held on the left side; and in range of fingering gave directions for playing as high as in the seventh position. Leopold Mozart, however, naturally conservative, held to the old-fashioned holding of the instrument.

The technique of bowing, upon which depends the art of expression in violin playing, awaited the perfection of a satisfactory bow. Tartini’s playing, it will be remembered, was especially admired for its expressiveness; and this, together with certain of his remarks on bowing which have been preserved in letters, leads one to think that he may have had a bow far better than those in the hands of most of his contemporaries. Whether or not he made it himself, and indeed just what it may have been, are not known. Certainly it must have been better than the bows with which Leopold Mozart was familiar. The clumsy nature of these may be judged by the illustrations in his instruction book.

The final perfection of the bow awaited the skill of a Frenchman, François Tourte (1747-1835), who has properly been called the Stradivari of the bow. It was wholly owing to his improvements that many modern effects in staccato, as well as in fine shading,

## particularly in the upper notes, became possible. He is supposed not

to have hit upon these epoch-making innovations until after 1775; and there is much likelihood that he was stimulated by the presence of Viotti in Paris after 1782. No better testimony to the service he rendered to the art of violin playing can be found than the new broadening of violin technique and style accomplished by men like Viotti, Kreutzer, Baillot, Rode, and Lafont, who availed themselves immediately of the results of his skill.

I

Something may now be said of these men, whose activities have without exception the glaring background of the horrors of the French Revolution. Though Kreutzer was of German descent, he was born in Versailles (1766) and spent the greater part of his life in and about Paris, intimately associated with French styles and institutions. Apart from early lessons received from his father, he seems to have been for a time under the care of Anton Stamitz, son of Johann Stamitz. At the Chapelle du Roi, to which organization he obtained admittance through the influence of Marie Antoinette, he had the occasion of hearing Viotti. The great Italian influenced him no less than he influenced his young contemporaries in Paris. Concerning his activities as a composer of operas little need be said, though one or two of his ballets, especially _Paul et Virginie_ and _Le Carnaval de Venise_, held the stage for some years. As a player he ranks among the most famous of the era. His duets with Rode roused the public to great enthusiasm. In 1798 he was in Vienna in the suite of General Bernadotte, and here made the acquaintance of Beethoven. Subsequently Beethoven dedicated the sonata for violin and piano (opus 47) to Kreutzer.

By reason of this and his book of forty _Études ou caprices pour le violon_, he is now chiefly remembered. His other compositions for the violin, including nineteen concertos and several airs and variations, have now been allowed to sink into oblivion. To say that the concertos are ‘more brilliant than Rode’s, less modern than Baillot’s’ distinguishes them as much as they may be distinguished from the compositions of his contemporaries. They are dry music, good as practice pieces for the student, but without musical life. But Kreutzer was a great teacher. He was one of the original professors of the violin at the Conservatoire, and with Baillot and Rode prepared the still famous _Méthode_ which, carrying the authority of that sterling institution, has remained, almost to the present day, the standard book of instruction for the young violinist. His own collection of forty studies likewise holds still a place high among those ‘steps to Parnassus’ by which the student may climb to the company of finished artists.

Pierre Rode (1774-1830) was the greatest of the players of this period. He was for two years a pupil of Viotti, and when he made his initial public appearance in 1790 at the Théâtre de Monsieur he played Viotti’s thirteenth concerto in such a way as to win instantly the admiration of all musical Paris. Considering that he was then but a boy of sixteen, and that Paris was accustomed to the playing of Kreutzer, Viotti, Gaviniés and other violinists of undisputed greatness, one can have little doubt that Rode had the power of true genius. This is further borne out by the fact that when he passed through Brunswick on a concert tour to Poland in 1803, Spohr heard him and was so struck with admiration for his style that he determined to train himself with the ideal of Rode in his mind. Later his playing fell off sadly and even in Paris he finally ceased to hold the favor of the public.

Like Kreutzer he came into contact with Beethoven. Beethoven’s sonata for violin in G major (opus 96) was completed for Rode, and was apparently performed for the first time (1812) by Rode and Beethoven’s pupil, the Archduke Rudolph. Even then, however, Rode’s playing was faulty, and, according to Thayer, Beethoven sent a copy of the violin part to him that he might study it before attempting a second performance.

Like Kreutzer’s, Rode’s compositions, with the exception of twenty-five caprices written as exercises, have been nearly forgotten. And yet, though Rode was without conspicuous musicianship, he had a gift for melody which made his compositions widely popular in their day. Of his thirteen concertos two, the first, in D minor, the eleventh, in A minor, were in the repertory of Paganini, who, moreover, professed a high admiration for Rode. And among the earliest of his compositions was a theme in G major, with variations, which won such broad success that it was transposed and arranged for the voice, and sung again and again on the stages of Paris.[51] Perhaps only Paganini’s variations on the ‘Carnival of Venice’ have been so popular.

Pierre Marie François de Sales Baillot (1771-1842) was the last of the great French violinists of this time. Though as a mere boy he was an accomplished player, and though he spent some years in Italy as a pupil of Pollani (who was a disciple of Nardini’s), he seems not to have decided to take up the profession of music until 1795. At this time, according to Fétis, he first became thoroughly acquainted with the masterpieces of the Italian classical composers, Corelli, Tartini, and others, and the enthusiasm they stirred in him settled the future course of his career. Upon the founding of the Conservatoire he was appointed professor of violin playing, with Kreutzer and Gaviniés. Subsequently he was active as a teacher, and not only as a solo player but as a quartet leader. His was the greatest share in the preparation of the _Méthode_ which has already been mentioned. He was a friend of Mendelssohn and of Ferdinand Hiller, and was much admired by them for his qualities both as a player and as a leader. His compositions, including fifteen trios for two violins and bass, various studies, nine concertos, and a series of twenty-four preludes for violin in all keys, have suffered the fate that has overtaken the music of his friends and colleagues, Kreutzer and Rode. But his instruction book, _L’art du violin_, is still worthy of most careful study, not only for the technical advantages of its many exercises, but for his own remarks on the condition of violin music in his day. These offer to the student the best analysis of the qualities of the Paris school of violin music, and of the relations of that school to the past.

II

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.’

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