Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)
History has determined that there were four great violin concertos composed during the 19 th century — by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky and Brahms. The last two pay homage to Beethoven by being in the same key as his (D major) and in other self-conscious ways. Mendelssohn studiously avoided any comparison with Beethoven, either by key choice or in any other manner. His concerto is also very different from the other two, exploring the lyrical possibilities of the violin more deeply and balancing those with restrained virtuosic display.
Mendelssohn’s violin concerto was born of a long and deep friendship between him and Ferdinand David, a professional violinist whom he had known since his teen years. Repeatedly David has asked Mendelssohn for a concerto, but it was repeatedly put off due mainly to the composer’s many professional commitments in Leipzig, Berlin, and London. Finally, in July 1838, Mendelssohn wrote to David, “I would like to write you a violin concerto for next winter. One in E minor keeps running through my head, and the opening gives me no peace.” David was Mendelssohn’s concertmaster in the Gewandhaus Orchestra of Leipzig, and they shared a deep spiritual and artist bond, which the composer expressed in the same letter: “. . . May heaven permit us to succeed more and more in expressing our wishes and our inmost thoughts, and in holding fast all that is dear and sacred in art, so that it shall not perish!”
Yet the concerto was not to come to fruition for nearly seven more years. Mendelssohn whittled away at it, and showed a partly complete score to David, who exclaimed, “This is going to be something great!” David himself contributed many ideas to the work. Although Mendelssohn had played the violin himself, he consulted David closely, especially concerning the extended solo (the cadenza) two-thirds through the first movement.
Finally, David gave the premiere in March 1845 at the Gewandhaus. Unfortunately, the overworked Mendelssohn was ill and could not conduct or even attend. Listeners were struck by the violin’s ravishing melody played right at the beginning. The cadenza was controlled virtuosity — in spirit, a blend of Spohr’s classical reserve and Paganini’s flashy display. When the orchestra re-enters with the main theme, roles are reversed with the violin accompanying the orchestra.
A single note in the bassoon joins the first movement to the second. The calm, religious character of its outer sections contrasts with an agitated central section.
Again, movements are joined, this time by a brief transition followed by flourishes in the winds and then by the violin soloist, and finally the delicious main theme of the finale. Its playful, dancing elfin character may remind us of another Mendelssohn masterpiece, the music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In the center of the movement, the violin introduces a flowing, lyrical melody. However, the dancing elfin theme triumphs at the end, bringing the concerto to a close with what Edward Downes describes as “irresistible melodic verve and rhythmic drive.”
Symphony No. 4 in E-flat (“Romantic”)
Anton Bruckner (1824-1896)
Anton Bruckner was a simple Austrian country man and not practiced in the ways of the big city, Vienna, where he moved at the age of 45. Stories abound concerning his social and political naiveté. One of the most humorous, yet most touching, concerns the Fourth Symphony. Hans Richter was preparing the Vienna Philharmonic for the symphony’s world premiere in 1881. At a rehearsal, Bruckner wished to express warmth and appreciation for the fine job Richter was doing. After the orchestra had finished playing, Bruckner went up to Richter and surreptitiously placed something in his hand, saying, “Take it, and have a beer to my health.” He had slipped the conductor a tip of one Thaler (today, about $2.00). Richter later had the Thaler attached to his watch chain and recalled that it was “the memento of the day I wept.”
Bruckner’s Fourth Symphony, as many of his works, went through a history of revisions, re-orchestrations, substituted movements, cuts, additions, etc. Some of them were by the composer’s own hand, while others were the work of well-meaning friends and followers. The subtitle “Romantic” was also an afterthought and does not mean much. More significant is Bruckner’s debt to his great hero, Richard Wagner. In a sense, Bruckner’s symphonies are a counterpart to Wagner’s music dramas, especially The Ring operatic cycle. As Donald Tovey points out, Bruckner’s symphonies “always began with “Rheingold” harmonic breadths and ended with “Götterdämmerung” climaxes.” The Fourth is no exception.
What to listen for: The opening spreads a broad harmonic bed over which comes a horn call. Try to remember this horn call, because Bruckner re-used and transformed it into the themes of each of the movements. Even in the massive first movement, it is the basis of the playful second theme.
The horn call idea forms the beginning of the Andante’s main theme. Listen for an elegiac quality in this movement. Episodes featuring the viola section (between statements of the main theme) are particularly heartfelt. The climax and coda are deeply tragic.
Bruckner himself indicated that the Scherzo (third movement) is to suggest a hunting scene in the forest. The development of the opening horn call (derived, of course, from the original horn call) contrasts with the more lyrical central section, which Bruckner identified as a “dance tune during the hunters’ meal.”
The build-up of tension in the finale’s introduction explodes into a monumental theme that subtly contains the original horn call idea. Reminiscences of the Scherzo’s theme spice the textures, which strive to sum up the power of the entire symphony. The ending is full of majestic grandeur.
