Mozart/Brahms

A Gift from Heaven

A musicologist has described Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Violin Concertos as a ‘gift from heaven’. At the age of nineteen he composed all three in a single bout of inspiration, never to return to the genre.

His main instrument was the piano, but in his childhood he had made his mark as an accomplished performer on both the violin and the viola. This was no great surprise, as his father Leopold, a violinist himself, was the author of an excellent violin tutor, covering not only technique and ornamentation, but also providing advice to students on how to develop a sense of style, and raising questions of musical ethics. Wolfgang made his most important contribution to violin literature when he was nineteen years old and in charge of the court orchestra of Prince-Archbishop Hieronymus von Colloredo in Salzburg. According to recent research the first of the five violin concertos dates from 1773 and the rest from 1775. It is not known what prompted him to suddenly examine and develop this genre. Had he written them for himself, he would doubtless have used them on his tour to Munich, Augsburg, Mannheim and Paris in 1777–78, but he did not. It has been established that he practised only sufficiently to maintain the skills necessary to carry out his duties as the court konzertmeister, and his father Leopold berated him for not paying more attention to his talent as a violinist. The name of Mozart’s Italian colleague Antonio Brunetti has been mentioned in connection with the concertos, but as he did not arrive at the Salzburg court until 1776 it is unlikely Mozart considered him as the original soloist.

Carefree Bliss

Even though the concertos were composed within a short period of time, there are signs of significant development, particularly between the third and fourth. The listener is first and foremost struck by the inimitable lyric vein, the never superficial elegance and the composer’s apparent delight in his chance to wallow in melodic ideas. The character of the last two concertos is one of sensitivity and wit. The musicologist HC Robbins Landon writes that ‘... melody is piled upon melody, and new ideas succeed each other in blissful insouciance of each other and of any strict formal pattern’. His colleague Maynard Solomon claims that Mozart permitted ‘the free play of fantasy to lead him into a variety of unexpected, even exotic, episodes’, while Alfred Einstein put it this way: ‘... suddenly there is a new depth and richness to Mozart’s whole language. Nothing is more miraculous in his work than the appearances of these concertos’.

* * *

A Concerto of Atonement

‘I must tell you of my latest folly: a concerto for violin and cello! Because of my relationship with Joachim I wanted to give it all up, but to no avail. Fortunately we have always kept our acquaintance within the realm of art, but I would never have believed that we would once more approach each other so closely on a personal level.’

Johannes Brahms wrote these words to his publisher Fritz Simrock in August 1887, after composing the double concerto during a holiday at Thun in Switzerland. He was referring to his altercation with the Hungarian violinist Joseph Joachim (1831–1907), which had had a profound effect on him, and which he had tried in several ways to put right. The reason for the split between the friends was that Joachim was jealous of his wife, Amalie, without any real cause. Brahms defended her as well as he was able and tried to reason with his friend, but that only made matters worse.

Although the break was total on the private level to start with, Joseph Joachim demonstrated his artistic integrity by continuing to promote Brahms’s music. He had premiered the violin concerto –dedicated to him – with great success, When Brahms asked him to look through the violin part in the double concerto their relationship reverted to its former geniality, to the relief of both men. It did not escape Joachim’s attention that Brahms had incorporated into the first movement a motif from Giovanni Viotti’s Violin Concerto No 22, one of Joachim’s showpieces, and one of Brahms’s favourites too. Brahms gave the manuscript to his friend with the inscription ‘To him for whom it is written’.

Confused Listeners

Brahms’s choice of the unusual medium of the double concerto was influenced by the fact that he had written a sonata the year before for the virtuoso cellist Robert Hausmann, a member of the Joachim Quartet, whose sensitive performance he admired, and to whom he wanted to pay further tribute. Joachim and Hausmann gave the first performance of the double concerto in 1887 with the composer conducting. It was not well received however, as Brahms’s imaginative treatment of the solo instruments combined with his concentrated symphonic texture confused the audience, including the critics. Later commentators have suggested that the work was conceived more as homage to two exceptional performers and as a peace offering to one of them rather than as a result of spontaneous musical inspiration.

The combination of violin and cello had never previously been used in this context, but Brahms probably had in mind Bach’s Double Violin Voncerto, Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola and above all Beethoven’s Triple Concerto (violin, cello and piano). His composition is distinctly Romantic in style, emphasising the characteristic sounds of the solo instruments. It is not without drama: in the first movement both soloists are given the opportunity to demonstrate their skill in weighty cadenzas. The cantabile theme in the second movement is described as ‘a great ballad with the rich, mystical atmosphere of Nordic sagas’, and the final movement is a light-hearted, happy rondo with a little Hungarian seasoning – probably also a gesture for Joachim’s benefit.

Text: Hans H. Rowe
English version: Roger Martin