Joseph Joachim: Wilhelm Girtner, Berlin, January 13, 1845
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inIgnaz Reich, Beth-El. Ehrentempel verdienter ungarischer Israeliten, (Pest: Alois Bucsánszky, 1856), 61–9.
The following is the earliest published biographical sketch of Joseph Joachim, excerpted from Beth-El by Ignaz Reich (1856). It is clearly based on information that could only have come from Joachim’s family, though dates are not reliable. Joachim’s first visit to London was in the spring of 1844, for example.
JOACHIM JOSEPH.
More legible pdf: Reich_Beth-El_1856
13 Monday Nov 2023
Joseph Joachim
A Portrait of his Life
Andreas Moser
(* Semlin an der Donau, Nov 29, 1859; † Berlin, Oct 7, 1925)
New, revised and expanded edition
In two volumes
Volume I
(1831–1856)
Berlin
Verlag der Deutschen Brahms—Gesellschaft m. b. H.
1908
Translation © Robert Whitehouse Eshbach, 2024
Foreword to the First Edition
On a cold winter’s day around the mid-eighties, I crossed the square in front of the Potsdamer Tor on my way to give the daughter of a family living in the Tiergarten Hotel her first violin lesson. Loud shouts from a car heading for the Potsdam train station interrupted my pedagogical musings. Since its occupants stopped and invited me to get in, I did not hesitate to accept the invitation. The passengers were Joachim, Rudorff and Kruse, on their way to take the next train to Magdeburg, to give a concert there with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.
The frequent trips that Joachim made at that time with the Philharmonic to the larger provincial cities of northern Germany, together with the concerts that took place under his direction in the Residenz, were vital for the continued existence of that excellent orchestra, which plays such an important role in the musical life of Berlin.
When I arrived at the station platform, Kruse, in answer to my question as to what program would be performed in Magdeburg, pressed a ticket into my hand that he had bought in the meantime, pushed me into a wagon of the train that was ready for departure, and whispered to me: “You can come too and hear how Joachim plays the Beethoven concerto, and how we play Schumann’s D minor symphony and the third Leonore overture.” That was a persuasive, and — since the train had meanwhile started moving — urgent request from my friend, who was at that time the concertmaster of the Philharmonic Orchestra.
There were two paramount reasons why I did not regret this little trip: first, the concert, which went off brilliantly and is one of those memories one does not easily forget, and second, the pleasant get-together with the three artists after the performance. The day before had been Rudorff’s birthday, and to celebrate it properly, Joachim had a few bottles of the sparkling wine brought in, which, under the name of “house key,” is called upon to play a certain role in my presentation. Just as an exquisite drop at the right time could thaw even that most taciturn of musicians, Robert Schumann, I have never seen Joachim in such an expansive mood as he was that evening after the concert in Magdeburg. We saw pass by us by in the flesh all the splendid artists who had sheltered his youth, encouraged his aspirations with their sympathy, and imparted such delightful enrichment to his whole life through the memory of the “hallowed hours” spent together with them.
When we parted in the early hours of the morning, the idea occurred to me of uniting the individual pictures that our raconteur had brought before our inner eye into a whole, in order that wider circles might gain an insight into Joachim’s rich artistic life. My delay in carrying out this intention has in any case had the advantage that I have been able to include the last decade of Joachim’s work in the scope of my portrayal. The lively personal contact with the master, whose pupil I am proud and grateful to call myself, the frequent music-making with him, and the circumstance that I have, for more than a decade now, faithfully served him as an assistant teacher at the Hochschule, place me in the fortunate position of being able to describe the external course of his life with a guarantee of absolute fidelity; and to be able confidently to portray him as an artist based on intimate familiarity with his spiritual views, gained through continuous discussion.
Had it required an incidental reason to wreathe the flowers which fortune has so generously strewn on his path — I could not think of a more beautiful occasion than the “Sixty Years’ Jubilee” of the master’s artist career, on March 17, 1899. Rejoicing over the youthful freshness that still invigorates Joachim’s art, loyal students and friends dedicate this book to him as an offering on this exceptional celebration.
An individuality can only be fully understood when the circumstances from which it has emerged are clarified and the ends to which it has developed are made known. The many influences to which Joachim was exposed from earliest childhood made it necessary to examine his artistic ancestors and contemporaries in sufficient detail to arrive at a proper appreciation of the service he has rendered to the artistic life of his time. In describing Joachim as a man, I had in mind Goethe’s dictum (to Heinrich Meyer, February 8, 1796): “All pragmatic biographical characterization must give way to the simple details of an important life.” With the extensive material that has been placed at my disposal, it would have been easy to make a much larger book; however, I have set a higher value on the attempt to create a rounded portrait of the master than on the aim of being exhaustive.
For my historical and statistical data, two works have served me excellently: Hanslick’s Geschichte des Konzertwesens in Wien and Wasielewski’s Die Violine und ihre Meister. All the letters to Liszt, which can be found in the chapters “Weimar” and “Hanover”, are taken from the book by La Mara, Briefe hervorragender Zeitgenossen an Franz Liszt; those of Hans von Bülow from his Briefe und Schriften, edited by Marie von Bülow.
I have not lacked for friendly encouragement and supportive involvement in my work. I am particularly grateful to Professor Dr. Julius Otto Grimm, Hofkapellmeister Albert Dietrich, and Professor Ernst Rudorff, who have kindly allowed me to access and partially publish their letters from Joachim. The most fruitful source for the clarification of relations in the distant past, however, has been Joachim’s letters to Avé Lallemant, which show his relations to Johannes Brahms in such a beautiful light.
Though no one will fail to appreciate the love I put into my work, I have come to realize while doing it that desire and ability are fundamentally different things. What sustained my self-confidence in such an unfamiliar occupation as authorship is to a practical musician was recalling Robert Schumann’s remark that he “often values a simple curse from a musician more highly than entire aesthetics.” Since I have endeavored in my presentation to aestheticize as little as possible, but rather to let the musician do most of the talking, I hope that my attempt at writing will be treated and judged with appropriate sympathy. I am, after all — “only a fiddler.”
Berlin, September 1898
Foreword to the New Edition
The friendly reception of the first version of this biography, which was at first only a somewhat extended commemorative volume on the occasion of Joachim’s sixtieth artist’s jubilee, has prompted me to thoroughly rewrite the book and to continue it through the passing of the master, which occurred on August 15th of this year. If I succeeded in condensing my presentation into a single volume with the first edition, this was no longer possible due to the abundance of material that has since become available. The new edition’s division into two parts is arranged in such a way that the first volume concludes with Schumann’s death, the second with Joachim’s passing.
While the first four chapters, which cover Joachim’s formative years, have not undergone significant revisions, they do contain additions that I consider enhancements. The succeeding sections, however, have been so transformed that, for example, “Hanover” has assumed a scope perhaps three times longer than the original. Various factors have contributed to this expansion: first, my acquaintance with the highly commendable source work by Dr. Georg Fischer, Opern und Konzerte im Hoftheater zu Hannover bis 1866 (Hahnsche Buchhandlung, Hanover and Leipzig, 1899), which not only frequently confirmed my own inquiries, but also provided insight into many hitherto only suspected events in the Guelph residence; second, Max Kalbeck’s Johannes Brahms (published by the Deutsche Brahms-Gesellschaft mbH, Berlin); third, the Literarischen Werke of Peter Cornelius, edited by his son, Carl Maria Cornelius (Breitkopf und Härtel, 1904), the first volume of which illuminates Joachim’s sojourn in Weimar and his relationships with Liszt in a unique manner; then the Neue Folge of the Briefe Robert Schumanns, edited by F. Gustav Jansen (ibid., 1904); further, Clara Schumann; ein Künstlerleben, nach Tagebüchern und Briefen, by Berthold Litzmann (ibid, 1906); also Joachims letters to Schumann, which the master himself made accessible to me a few years before his death, and are printed here for the first time; and finally, the correspondence between Brahms and Joachim, the publication of which is to be completed after this “life’s picture” through my efforts.
Although I generally feel that the frequent inclusion of letters and diary entries adversely affects the flow of a narrative, I thought it necessary to overlook this concern in the chapter “Hanover.” The correspondence between Schumann and Joachim, for example, provides such a vivid picture of the artistic and personal matters discussed between the two men that even the most skillful paraphrase would diminish the impact that reading the letters themselves conveys. On the other hand, the correspondence is not extensive enough to warrant a special edition. No matter how much opinions may differ regarding the form of its publication, however, there will be unanimous agreement among all who love and admire Joachim and Schumann as two of the most magnificent artists who ever lived in feeling glad that it has been preserved to us.
When a father sends one of his children into the world, no matter how often this may happen, he typically accompanies it with blessings and with recommendations to friends and acquaintances. Following this paternal tradition, I now send my conceptual child into the world with the mission and wish that it should express gratitude for the acceptance it has received — thanks, especially, to Professor G. Jansen in Hanover for valuable guidance — and that many new friends may join the old, not so much for its own sake, but rather for the sake of the personality to which its content is dedicated. For I have not only admired Joachim as an incomparable teacher, not only looked up to him as a divinely gifted artist, but also lost in him a fatherly friend, whose memory is engraved in my heart, indelible, deep, and true. And when I exclaim with Hamlet:
“He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again,”
I know whereof I speak!
Berlin, November 1907
Andreas Moser.
1.
Childhood
On a vast plain about an hour’s walk south of the old Hungarian coronation city of Pressburg lies the small hamlet of Kittsee, whose name is well known to our school children through Otto Hoffmann’s story Prinz Eugen, der edle Ritter (“Prince Eugene the Noble Knight”). In the spring of 1683, Emperor Leopold I held a military review on Kittsee’s land with the troops designated to oppose the Turks and Hungarians; and it was here that Prince Eugene of Savoy offered his services to the Emperor, which were gladly accepted in view of the perils of the impending war.
Today, Kittsee is officially known by the Hungarian name of Köpcsény. Nevertheless, the residents almost exclusively speak German in their daily lives; they are diligent, hardworking Swabians whose ancestors immigrated in earlier centuries from the German Empire. They have not only not forgotten the language, customs, and traditions of their old Heimat, but have managed to preserve them with such purity that, when associating with the locals, one feels transported back to the land of their origins.
[About Kittsee, see: https://josephjoachim.com/2013/06/14/323/
About the Kittsee Kehilla (Jewish community), see: https://josephjoachim.com/2013/06/16/the-kittsee-kehilla/ — RWE]
Among this stalwart Swabian community, Joseph Joachim first saw the light of the world on June 28, 1831. [This date, now commonly accepted, has never been conclusively authenticated. — RWE] He was the seventh of eight children with whom the couple Julius and Fanny Joachim were blessed over the years. Since the parents were of Jewish descent, the children were also raised in the Jewish faith. The father, Julius Joachim, was a capable merchant of serious, somewhat reserved, character, but deeply devoted to his family. Through diligence and continuous effort, he had achieved a certain level of prosperity that enabled him to provide his children with a good education that matched their abilities. Fanny was a loyal helper to her husband, a loving and tender mother to the children, and, with her simple nature, she fit harmoniously into the framework that encompassed the picture of a warm and happy family life. Not burdened by worldly riches, the family nonetheless lived in such well-ordered circumstances that all physical necessities could be easily acquired. The question of the children’s intellectual education proved more challenging, however, as the educational resources of such a small community as Kittsee were quickly exhausted. Business considerations, and the desire to provide a more rigorous education for his children, led Julius Joachim to conceive a plan to leave Kittsee and relocate to a larger city. By 1833 the Joachim family was already in Pest. Accordingly, the Hungarian capital is the actual setting for the childhood and early youth of little Joseph — or rather, “Pepi,” as we must continue to call our little one, according to the prevailing Austrian custom.
[About Joachim’s immediate family, see: https://josephjoachim.com/2013/06/16/454/ — RWE]
Music did not initially play a significant role in the Joachim family; they enjoyed listening, but had no deeper interest in it. Only the second eldest daughter, Regina, had such a pleasant voice that her parents arranged for her to receive singing lessons. This awakened little Pepi’s musical awareness; he listened with rapt attention to every note, and then tried to play his sister’s song on a child’s violin. A friend of the family, a medical student named Stieglitz,1 played the violin enthusiastically in his leisure time. Stieglitz had purchased the toy violin at a fair and gave it to Pepi for his fourth birthday.
[Immense trade fairs were held four times a year in Pest: on St. Joseph’s Day (March 19), Medardus (June 8), St. John’s Day (August 29) and on St. Leopold’s Day (November 15). For a description, see: “Pesth,” https://josephjoachim.com/2013/06/15/391/ — RWE]
During his occasional visits, he introduced Pepi to the fundamentals of violin playing. The child’s musical intelligence and astonishing progress soon prompted Stieglitz to draw the parents’ attention to their son’s promising talent, and advise them to provide him with regular tuition from a knowledgeable source. Here, the father’s good judgment appears in the best light: rather than simply hiring an available, inexpensive teacher — as is common to do for beginners — he approached the best teacher in Pest, the concertmaster of the local opera, Serwaczyński.
Stanisław Serwaczyński
(New York Public Library Digital Collection)
Serwaczyński (*1791 – †1862), who was born and died in Lublin, was a capable and clever artist who took his role as young Pepi’s teacher very seriously, advancing him with incredible speed. He did not limit himself to giving practical violin lessons, but as he gradually became a close friend of the Joachim family, he also exercised an influence on his student’s moral development. Pepi was a timid child, and afraid of the dark.
[It seems likely that young Joachim’s fear of the dark stemmed from having recently lived through a disastrous nocturnal flood that killed many, and left his family homeless. See: “The Flood,” https://josephjoachim.com/2013/06/16/the-flood/ — RWE]
This displeased Serwaczyński, who decided to help him overcome this weakness. One evening, he deliberately asked the child to fetch something from another room; but nothing would induce Pepi to walk through the unlit corridor to the remote room. Serwaczyński first tried to persuade him — and then he scolded him, ultimately leaving the house, saying that he no longer wished to teach such a coward. When after several days the teacher did not appear at the usual time, the child went to apologize to him and promised not to be fearful and foolish in the future, if only he could have his beloved violin lessons again. The teacher’s experiment succeeded: the pupil faithfully kept his word.
Apart from the violin, the boy’s general education was not neglected. Pepi spent his first year in the public elementary school; later, he participated in a private circle that brought together a number of boys of the same age at the home of the future concertmaster of the Royal Kapelle in Stuttgart, Edmund Singer.
Pepi made such impressive progress on the violin that Serwaczyński persuaded his parents to take him to the opera, to broaden his musical horizons. This visit made a significant and lasting impression on the little boy. C. Kreutzer’s Nachtlager in Granada was performed, and Serwaczyński played the violin solo. During the intermission, Pepi was allowed to approach the orchestra and get his first glimpse of the arrangements that would later become so familiar to him. On this occasion, Serwaczyński showed his young pupil the instrument on which he had just played, and the image of this violin imprinted itself so firmly in his memory that he recognized it at first glance more than thirty years later, when, during a concert tour in Sweden, it was offered to him for purchase by the Polish violinist Biernacki, who had acquired it from Serwaczyński’s estate. Joachim acquired the instrument, a well-preserved specimen from the elder Guarneri’s early period, and always carefully preserved it as the violin of his first teacher.
Naturally, this first visit to the opera was followed by others, for once young Pepi realized that there was other music being made in the world outside of his violin lessons, he developed a true hunger for it. The Pest Opera was not bad for that time; it drew on traditions and memories that many more prominent temples of the muses might envy. Indeed, Beethoven had composed the music for King Stephen and The Ruins of Athens for the dedication of the Pest theater in 1811. The orchestra gave commendable performances, and the singers were highly regarded. Half a century later, as Joachim recounted his earliest childhood memories in intimate conversations, he still recalled the disputes that had unfolded among the audience regarding two of the female singers, leading to curious spectacles among those involved. One of the two singers, Agnes Schebest, later became the wife of David Strauss, the author of Das Leben Jesu (The Life of Jesus).
Meanwhile, Serwaczyński had developed his young pupil through the study of violin schools by Rode, Kreutzer, and Baillot, as well as etudes by R. Kreutzer, to the point where Pepi could effortlessly play pieces by de Bériot, a violin concerto by Cremont, and compositions by Mayseder. In light of these excellent results, and in order to reward his pupil’s efforts with public recognition, Serwaczyński decided to introduce him to a larger audience. On March 17, 1839, teacher and student performed a double concerto by Eck in a concert at the “Adelskasino,” and Pepi played Pechatschek’s “Variations on Schubert’s Trauerwalzer” as a solo.
[About the début, see: https://josephjoachim.com/2013/06/16/debut/ — RWE]
Anyone looking critically at these pieces will see that a considerable technique is necessary to play them well, and Serwaczyński would have demanded a good deal more from his talented pupil than a simple mastery of the notes. Serwaczyński appears to have been an excellent teacher for the left hand; however, he devoted only little attention and care to bow technique. We shall see in the next chapter what notable consequences this oversight would have.
Pepi’s appearance in the Adelskasino was indeed a brilliant success for the teacher and student alike. The lage gathering cheered the blond-haired, seven-year-old violinist with their encouragement and honored him by calling him out several times. In later years, his only the memory of his début was that he was immensely proud of the sky-blue coat adorned with mother-of-pearl buttons that he wore for the occasion!
Joseph Joachim at the time of his début in the Adelskasino in Pest
[About this painting, see: https://josephjoachim.com/2019/05/20/jakab-marastoni-jacopo-antonio-marastoni-the-young-joseph-joachim/ — RWE]
The Pest magazine Der Spiegel devoted the following lines to the memorable event in its issue of March 21, 1839:
“In Pest wurde am 17. März im Saale des Nationalkasinos ein besonders interessantes Konzert veranstaltet, welches durch eine zahlreiche Zuhörerschaft mit ihrer Anwesenheit beehrt wurde. Es gelangten zum Vortrage: a) G. Onslows schönes 15. Quintett. — b) Deutsches Männerquartett, Komposition des Pester Musikers Herrn Merkel — c) Friedrich Ecks Doppelkonzert für zwei Violinen; vorgetragen nebst Quintettbegleitung durch den vortrefflichen Stanislaus Servaczyński und durch seinen achtjährigen Schüler Joseph Joachim. Von diesem letzteren Wunderkinde können wir nichts weiter sagen, als daß wir in ihm und an ihm ein wahres Wunder sahen und hörten. Sein Vortrag, die tadellose Reinheit der Intonation, die Bewältigung der Schwierigkeiten, die rhythmische Sicherheit entzückten die Zuhörer dermaßen, daß sie unaufhörlich applaudierten, und daß jeder einen zweiten Vieuxtemps, Paganini, Ole Bull aus ihm prophezeite.”
“A particularly interesting concert was held in Pest on March 17 in the hall of the National Casino, which was honored by the presence of a large audience. The following pieces were performed: a) G. Onslow’s beautiful 15th Quintet. — b) German Männerquartett, composed by the Pest musician Mr. Merkel — c) Friedrich Eck’s double concerto for two violins; performed together with quintet accompaniment by the by the excellent Stanislaus Servaczyński and his eight-year-old pupil Joseph Joachim. Of this latter child prodigy we can say nothing more than that we saw and heard in him and from him a true marvel. His performance, the impeccable purity of his intonation, his mastery of the difficulties, and his rhythmic security, so delighted the audience that they applauded incessantly, and one and all prophesied that the child would become a second Vieuxtemps, Paganini, or Ole Bull.”
This first public concert was of considerable significance for Pepi, as it gained for him the acquaintance and interest of Count Franz von Brunswick and his sister Therese, as well as Herr [Adalbert] von Rossi, members of two distinguished noble families in the Hungarian capital, who simultaneously opened their homes to him. Beethoven dedicated his piano sonata Op. 57 (Appassionata) and the Fantasia Op. 77 to Count Franz, and his Op. 78 to Therese. It is an acknowledged fact that Beethoven was on intimate terms with the Count for thirty years, and that his “Immortal Beloved” can have been no one other than Countess Therese. [This is no longer an “acknowledged fact.” — RWE] Herr von Rosti later became the father-in-law of the great Hungarian poet and later Minister of Culture Eötvös.
Quartet playing was regularly cultivated in both these houses — primarily the classics, but also much Onslow, who was at that time quite popular among quartet players. Thus, in his earliest years, through frequent listening to good chamber music, Joachim came into close contact with the genre of music in which he would later excel as a performer. And therein lies a certain foreshadowing: that, even as a child, the future greatest interpreter of Beethoven’s music associated with individuals who not only spoke the name Beethoven with reverence but had also been personally and spiritually close to the great genius.
As the gentle dawn kisses the young day, still dreamy and burdened with dew, not yet aware that, in a few hours, the radiant sun will illuminate it in full glory in the firmament, so the lofty name Beethoven greeted Joachim’s earliest childhood memories, and the child did not sense that this name would, after a few years, illuminate and warm his artistic career in radiant beauty!
In the summer of 1839, the Joachim family received a visit from a beloved relative, Fanny Figdor from Vienna. She was the daughter of Pepi’s eldest uncle on her mother’s side, a musical woman who made music solely for her own pleasure but was nevertheless a quite accomplished pianist.
Cousin Figdor took the greatest delight in her young cousin, who, despite his early youth could already play the violin so charmingly, and together with Serwaczyński, she encouraged his parents to have Pepi trained as a virtuoso. For the parents, however, this meant the separation from their beloved child. While the musical circumstances in Pest were quite satisfactory for that time, Cousin Fanny insisted that Pepi should go to Vienna. There, better teachers were available, music was cultivated in a much more extensive manner, and in general a different atmosphere prevailed than in the still culturally remote Pest. The move was made easier by the presence in Vienna of Pepi’s grandfather Figdor, with whom he could live, and the relatives there also offered to bear the costs of raising and educating the promising child.
And so, with the mother’s blessings, the three travelers — Herr Joachim, Fanny Figdor, and Pepi — set out cheerfully for the imperial city on the Danube, which was to become the little violinist’s second home for the next five years.
II
Vienna
Hand in hand with the development of chamber music, or rather prompted by it, violin playing had been enthusiastically cultivated in Vienna since the middle of the eighteenth century. Dittersdorf, who had begun his career as a child prodigy on the violin, over time became one of Vienna’s most outstanding violinists, and enjoyed as much esteem as a virtuoso on his instrument as he did later as a composer. Both Haydn and Beethoven were also proficient violinists, and it is well-known that Mozart could play his own violin concertos admirably. In the 18th century it was taken for granted that composers should be intimately familiar with the nature of string instruments even if they were primarily trained as pianists, whereas nowadays composers who know their way around the fingerboard and the bow are rare exceptions. The old masters often found it necessary to play their works themselves; thus, it was entirely natural, and given their expertise, self-evident, that they should write in accordance with the character of the respective instruments. Thus, compared with the chamber music of today, the older chamber music is more melodious, and being admirably suited to the instruments for which it was written, has achieved widespread popularity among performers. Because these masters performed on the violin only occasionally (with the exception of Dittersdorf, whose contributions to the development of violin playing should not be underestimated), we must regard Anton Wranitzky (1761–1819) as the true founder of the specific Viennese violin school. Although versatile and prolific as a composer, his importance for the future lies in the fact that he trained several outstanding violinists who gave the Viennese School its distinctive character.
It is not easy to describe the characteristics of the older Viennese violin school, since it was initially mostly influenced by Italy, and its later development predominantly by France. This was due to the geographical location of the imperial city on the Danube. While Italian and French artists had always been favored at German courts, Vienna was also a pleasant stopover for traveling virtuosi heading to the North or to Russia. Of the Italians, one need only mention Ferrari, Lolli, and Mestrino; of the French, Rodolphe Kreutzer, Pierre Rode, and Pierre Baillot. Some stayed in Vienna for a short time, others for longer periods. The deepening and spiritualization of the Viennese violinists due to these influences could only be further enhanced by Ludwig Spohr’s many years of activity in the Austrian capital. The creations of the great Austrian composers gradually gave significance to the lively rhythms of South German dances, and Franz Schubert introduced and established Viennese elements through the idealization of the Ländler and waltz; the Viennese violin school has thus not only retained its distinctiveness despite foreign influences but has been richly enhanced by the charming treatment of dance forms by Haydn, Mozart, and Schubert. Among the virtues that have always been admired in the older Viennese school are smooth bowing and — as a result, a free, sensually beautiful tone — and virtuoso command of the fingerboard up to the highest registers. But they also excelled in the interpretation of their own works, and those of others as well. On the one hand, their playing was distinguished by sparkling rhythm and strong accentuation; on the other by a natural warmth of expression. This, while touching only lightly the deeper emotions, imparted to their performance an effortless, pleasing, and elegant quality. Some proponents of this influential school were also proficient composers, skilled chamber music players, and leaders of orchestras.
In the first half of the 19th century, Joseph Mayseder (1789–1863) was decidedly the most distinctive representative of the Viennese violin school. A student of Wranitzky, Mayseder enjoyed from a young age the intellectual and musical guidance of Schuppanzigh, in whose quartet he played second violin. His comprehensive skill, suave bowing technique, and flexible, crystalline tone allowed him to render pieces of graceful, delicate, or piquant character in an unparalleled manner. In his youth, he received acknowledgment from Spohr2 and Paganini for his intellectually lively playing and virtuoso treatment of the instrument; in later years, he secured the unqualified admiration of Joachim. In his transcription of Brahms’s Hungarian Dances, originally composed for piano, Joachim paid a gracious tribute to the Viennese violin master by marking a passage “à la Mayseder” — a nod to Mayseder’s style. Hanslick heard him still as a quartet player in the house of Prince Czartoryski and remarked, “Here I had the personal pleasure of hearing the famous veteran and admiring the sweet, bell-like purity of his tone, the unparalleled cleanliness of his technique, and the noble grace of his performance. In Haydn’s music, Mayseder could be considered flawless; second only to that came his rendition of Mozart’s and Spohr’s quartets, and naturally his own numerous quartets. He cared only for the early quartets of Beethoven; for the later ones, he lacked love and understanding, and perhaps also greatness and passion.”
While Mayseder, in addition to his highly noteworthy compositional activities, was the most spirited embodiment of brilliant solo playing, we find in another of Wranitzky’s pupils, Ignaz Schuppanzigh (1776 – 1830), the chamber music player par excellence. Although already highly regarded by his contemporaries for his rendition of Haydn’s and Mozart’s quartets, his most enduring fame lies in the fact that he premiered the majority of Beethoven’s creations for string instruments. When only sixteen years old, he played the first violin in the quartet of boys organized by Prince Lichnowsky, and a dozen years later, we find him at the height of his abilities as the leader of the famous Rasumovsky Quartet. In both positions, he achieved such outstanding results, especially in the interpretation of Beethoven’s chamber music, that, in Seyfried’s words, “throughout the entire art world, there prevailed but one voice about it.” In addition, Schuppanzigh served as concertmaster in most of the Akademien organized by Beethoven, and subsequently, he conducted the orchestra for the Augarten concerts, where the majority of Beethoven’s orchestral works were performed. We continually encounter the excellent artist in the intellectual service of the musical genius, demonstrating a familiarity with his instrumental works scarcely equaled by any of his contemporaries.
The Viennese violinist Franz Clement (1784 – 1842) was exceptionally musical, and a talented violinist. In his autobiography, Spohr recounts that, on the day after the performance of his oratorio The Last Judgment, Clement played several numbers from it “note for note, with all harmonic progressions and orchestral figures,” without ever having seen the score. In the same book, Spohr continues: “It was rumored at the time in Vienna that, after hearing Haydn’s The Creation several times, Clement knew it by heart so well that he made a complete piano reduction with the assistance of the libretto. After Clement had reviewed it against the score, Haydn adopted it for publication.”
And in a letter to Thayer concerning the alterations and cuts that Beethoven was supposed to make for the revival of Fidelio, Röckel, the second Viennese “Florestan,” writes: “As the entire opera was to be revised, we immediately set to work. Princess Lichnowsky played from the full score on the piano, and Clement, sitting in a corner of the room, accompanied the entire opera by heart, playing all the solos of the various instruments on his violin. As Clement’s extraordinary memory was widely known, no one besides me was surprised by it.” (Thayer, Beethovens Leben, vol. II, p. 294.)
Clement was unanimously considered one of the greatest virtuosi of his time, displaying astonishing prowess on the fingerboard that allowed him to conquer the most daring challenges with the greatest bravoura. Beethoven’s high regard for Clement is evidenced by his having composed the Violin Concerto, Op. 61, for him. The original bears the dedication: “Concerto par Clemenza pour Clement, primo Violino e Direttore del Teatro a Vienna, da Luigi van Beethoven, 1806.” — “When Dr. Bartolini [recte: Bertolini] told Jahn that ‘Beethoven as a rule never finished commissioned works until the last minute,’ he named this Concerto as an instance in point; and another contemporary notes that Clement played the solo a vista, without previous rehearsal.” (Thayer)
The latter report can only be understood to mean that the score and orchestral parts were finished so late that Clement had to perform the concerto without a prior orchestral rehearsal. Clement probably practiced his solo part thoroughly beforehand and went through it with the composer at the piano. For the violinist capable of publicly sight-reading Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, especially from the composer’s handwritten score, has yet to be born!
An interesting account of Clement’s concert by the newly established Wiener Theaterzeitung states: “The outstanding violinist Clement performed, among other notable pieces, a violin concerto by Beethoven, which was exceptionally well-received due to its originality and numerous beautiful passages. Clement’s proven artistry and grace, his strength and assurance on the violin, which is his slave, were warmly received with loud bravos. — Connoisseurs are unanimous in their judgment of Beethoven’s concerto; they recognize many beauties in it, but stress that its continuity often seems fragmented, and the endless repetition of certain commonplace passages could easily become tedious, etc.”3
Nevertheless, it appears that Clement, despite his outstanding artistic abilities, did not have a resilient character, as he faced unfavorable circumstances in the last two decades of his life, preventing his artistic career from reaching a satisfactory conclusion. The young Joachim saw him wandering through the streets of Vienna in a disheveled state.
Between Schuppanzigh, Mayseder and Clement, Joseph Böhm (born 1795 in Pest, died 1876 in Vienna) occupied a special position. He is the acknowledged head of the modern Viennese violin school; indeed, perhaps the most significant violin pedagogue of the previous century. Trained by his father and Pierre Rode, he became an excellent violinist and, as a young man, performed with great success in Italy, Germany, and France; but feeling a greater attraction to teaching, he soon abandoned his virtuoso career. In 1819, he was appointed professor at the Vienna Conservatory,4 and in 1821, he was hired as first violinist at the Hofburg. In his calling as teacher, he established his most enduring reputation; among the many accomplished violinists he mentored, Georg Hellmesberger senior, Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst, and Joseph Joachim proudly and gratefully identified themselves as his students. Alongside his teaching duties, Böhm was also highly regarded as a quartet player, although in this capacity he had long since withdrawn from public life.5
We shall soon make closer acquaintance with Joseph Böhm; for now, we must turn our attention back to young Joachim, who, newly arrived in Vienna, eagerly awaited the events that were about to unfold.
At first, the little newcomer was warmly welcomed into his grandfather’s house; through attentive and affectionate care, Grandfather Figdor attempted to prevent his grandson from feeling homesick. Nevertheless, the kindly old gentleman, who didn’t know much about music, remained for a long time in Joachim’s memory as his first stern critic — for every time the boy scraped or whistled on his violin, he could be sure of his grandfather’s admonition: “Joseph, you’re playing sour notes!” Meanwhile, Cousin Figdor, Pepi’s benevolent guiding spirit, ensured that the violin lessons proceeded without delay. Young Miska Hauser, a student of Mayseder who was just beginning to make a name for himself in the salons of the capital, became Joachim’s first violin teacher in Vienna. However, this instruction lasted only a few months. Perceptive individuals quickly understood that such a remarkable talent needed the nurturing of an experienced teacher and seasoned artist; moreover, at that time, Hauser’s restless wanderlust had already stirred, prompting him to embark on his extensive world travels.
Georg Hellmesberger the elder (1800–1873), who at that time held the most prominent artistic positions in Vienna, was then engaged to teach young Joachim. Having been trained in Böhm’s school, Hellmesberger was as important a teacher as he was an excellent violinist and exceptional conductor. Concurrently with Joachim, he taught his two sons, Joseph (1829-1893) and Georg (1830-1852). The former, in particular, would later achieve high artistic renown. Georg, who also became a first-rate violinist, later preceded Joachim as concertmaster in Hanover. To this youthful trio, the young [Afolf] Simon (later concertmaster in the Hague) was added, so that Hellmesberger at that time enjoyed a quartet of prodigies — a not easily repeatable occurance. At the 1840 Bürgerspitalsakademie, the four young violinists played the then-popular Concertante for four violins by L[udwig] Maurer, receiving thunderous applause for their virtuoso ensemble performance. Maurer’s Concertante is equally rewarding and challenging, demanding considerable skill from each of the players, in both violin technique and musical assurance. Despite the considerable public success that accompanied this concert, Hellmesberger found the bowing technique of one of his young pupils so hopelessly stiff that he saw no prospect for him. And this unlucky fellow was our Pepi!
It is worth noting again, as Joachim himself attested, that Serwaczyński was interested only in the development of the left hand. However, in his negligent disregard for bow control he committed a lapse that has hindered so many youthful violin talents from reaching their full potential, for without free bow technique, it is impossible to play the violin in a healthy and expressive manner.
One can imagine how disheartened our Pepi must have been over Master Hellmesberger’s pronouncement! His parents, visiting Vienna at the time, were convinced that their son’s artistic career had been just a beautiful dream; indeed, the father, with his common-sense view of the situation and his dislike of half-measures, had already made the decision to take his little boy back to Pest to steer him towards a different profession. Then, Ernst announced several concerts in Vienna. Pepi had heard much about this marvelous violinist, who despite his youth had already gained European fame; through incessant pleading the boy was able to persuade his parents to allow him to stay in Vienna until he had at least heard the sorcerer play once. With his spirited playing, astonishing and brilliant technique, and his incomparably beautiful tone, Ernst made such an overwhelming impression on the boy that his uncle Nathan Figdor asked the parents for permission to take the child to him, to seek his judgment as a final authority. This distinguished artist, the most dazzling virtuoso since Paganini, quickly and presciently discerned exceptional talent in the little boy. He sent word to the parents that they need not worry about their child’s future, and advised them to send Pepi to study under Joseph Böhm, from whom he himself had learned everything that could be acquired from a teacher. If the boy showed enthusiasm and love for the craft, he said, Böhm would very soon make his stiff bowing free and flexible. Given such counsel from such a source, the parents felt compelled to listen, and the result has proven how wonderfully correct Ernst was.
Joseph Böhm
(Photo: Emil Rabending, k.k. Hof-Photograph, Vienna)
Thus, Pepi became a student of Joseph Böhm, who, as a surrogate father, welcomed him fully into his home and taught him faithfully for three years. For the rest of his life, Joachim could not say enough commendable things about the manner of his instruction. Rigorous, serious, and objective, it was at the same time affectionate and encouraging in every respect.
The primary goal was to attain a free, unrestrained bowing technique, and in this, Böhm was a consummate master and ideal teacher. The instructional materials included the relevant works of Rode and Mayseder, especially the former’s twenty-four Caprices in all keys, which, aside from their musical value, have remained the unsurpassed studies for acquiring a sound bowing technique.
The outstanding result that the teacher eventually attained with his pupil needs no explanation for any violinist fortunate enough to have heard Joachim.
The study of duets for two violins received the most extensive attention in Böhm’s school, as it greatly fosters good intonation, while simultaneously promoting confidence and skill in ensemble playing. Professor Grünwald 6 has told me on several occasions that the students sometimes had to play nothing but duets for months on end, until this inherently beautiful literature became familiar to the point of exhaustion.
Joachim always remembered his teacher and caregiver with touching gratitude and loyalty, and also, for her tenderheartedness, his teacher’s wife. Though childless, the Böhms lived in happiest matrimony. They had but one housemate: a nephew, who was also taking violin lessons. Mrs. Böhm was not a practicing musician; nevertheless, she had a keen interest in her husband’s art and profession. As a result, she was exceptionally well-versed in musical and violin-related matters. She was often present when her husband taught his young protégé, and she took careful note of his instructions. While Böhm was teaching at the conservatory or attending to his duties in the Burgkapelle, Pepi had to practice his assignments at home. As he played, Mrs. Böhm would often sit with a needlework project and supervise the young boy’s work. Then the mistress admonished [in Viennese dialect]: “Peperl, you know, that was not good at all, and it must sound even more beautiful; you have to practice such a passage persistently until you get it to go smoothly and effortlessly, etc.” But if persuasion and admonition proved ineffective, it would often happen that the curtain of the glass door to the next room was drawn back, revealing Böhm’s mentor-head with a stern yet loving expression, or the door opened, and the strict Professor called out, “Confounded boy, you’ll fiddle properly right now!” That usually did the trick.
Joachim frequently reminisced with sincere satisfaction about the innocent banter he faced because of his Jewish heritage in the home of his strictly Catholic foster parents. Upon leaving the church, where she habitually attended confession, the Frau Professorin would occasionaly frighten the young student by exclaiming: “Well, Pepperl, today the chaplain gave me a good dressing-down again because we have a heathen like you in the house; but don’t you worry — just do your practicing like a good boy and we’ll answer for the rest with the dear Lord!” She was a believer in the only true Christianity: the practical!
As Pepi steadily advanced, Böhm’s interest and affection for his promising pupil increased. He regularly had him play larger pieces with the orchestra at the conservatory, including the Rondo from Vieuxtemps’ Concerto in E Major, and Ernst’s Othello Fantasy, thus accustoming the young boy to the limelight at an early age.
There was always great excitement among the young violinists when renowned virtuosi from beyond Vienna such as Ernst, de Bériot, Vieuxtemps, the two Milanello sisters, and others, took the stage. Of the two violin-playing sisters, it was particularly the dark-eyed Teresa who left a strong impression on young Pepi with her graceful manner and winsome violin playing. One of the last artistic figures from Joachim’s childhood, she married General Parmentier in Paris and died in October 1904. Until then, the master never failed to visit the illustrious lady whenever his travels took him to the French capital.
Following the extraordinary successes that the sorcerer Paganini garnered with his first appearance in Vienna in 1828, the time had come when the sky truly rained violins on the city on the Danube. Each year new, brilliant virtuosi appeared, and it grew increasingly difficult for any one individual to avoid being overlooked amidst the wealth of talent. It is no wonder, then, that an artistic shallowness prevailed, prompting individuals to measure artistic achievements by external success. But Master Böhm was not swayed by such superficial considerations, nor was he diverted from the course he had deemed correct. He ensured that his students were acquainted with all the latest developments in violin literature, believing that independence in playing could only be achieved through all-round technical ability; above all, they were not permitted to neglect the intellectual sustenance and artistic stimulation that can be derived from the cultivation of our magnificent chamber music. Virtuosity is commendable; however, the true artist strengthens his backbone best when he immerses himself affectionately in the study of the great works with which the classics have so abundantly endowed us.
[In progress — continued on pdf:]
13 Monday Nov 2023
Posted Letters, Students, Uncategorized
inJoseph Joachim Recommends Young Richard Burgin, October 4, 1902
Charlottenburg Berlin den 4ten Oktober 1902
Es gereicht mir zu besonderen
Vergnügen zu bezeugen daß der
neunjährige Knabe Richard
Burgin eine außerordentliche
Begabung für die Violine besitzt.
Ich war geradeuzu überrascht von
dem Aplom und der Leichtigkeit mit
welcher das Kind einen schwierigen
Satz von Vieuxtemps vortrug.
Wenn irgendwo so ist es hier ange-
bracht für eine nachhaltige ern-
ste Führung zu sorgen und zu ver-
hüten, daß ein Talent vorzeitig in
der Oeffentlichkeit ausgebeutet wird.
Joseph Joachim
—–
Charlottenburg, Berlin, October 4, 1902
It gives me great pleasure to attest that the nine-year-old boy, Richard Burgin, possesses an extraordinary talent for the violin. I was genuinely surprised by the confidence and ease with which the child performed a challenging movement by Vieuxtemps. If anywhere, it is appropriate here to ensure serious and sustained guidance and to prevent premature exploitation of such talent in the public eye.
Joseph Joachim
For a fascinating memoir of Richard Burgin see Diana Lewis Burgin’s website: http://dianaburgin.com/Memoralia01-Introduction.html from which this letter is taken.
Transcription and translation © Robert W. Eshbach, 2023
08 Thursday Jun 2023
Posted Uncategorized
inNeue Zeitschrift für Musik, Bd. 68, Nr. 13 (22 März 1872), s. 136
[English translation with links below © Robert W. Eshbach, 2023]
Joseph Joachim in Moscow
Portrait by Alexander Eichenwald
Moskau.
Das siebente Concert der russischen Musik-Gesellschaft am 3. Febr. War ein musikalisches Ereigniß durch die Mitwirkung Joachim’s. Derselbe spielte Beethoven’s Concert sowie drei ungarische Tänze nach Brahms, und genügt es zu sagen, daß derselbe sich in der Wiedergabe des Concerts selbst übertraf. Von den kleinen Sachen mußte er einen Tanz da capo spielen. Außer diesen Piecen wurde Rubinstein’s Characterbild “Iwan der Grausame” gespielt sowie ein Chor aus einer neuen russischen Oper “Opritschnik” von Tschaikowsky und die Volkmann’sche D moll-Symphonie. Rubinstein’s Composition machte auf das hiesige Publikum großen Eindruck, desgleichen die Symphonie. Der Chor hingegen zündete nicht sehr. —
Am 5. Febr. gab Joachim eine eigene Matineée im Theater unter Mitwirkung von Frau Alexandrowa und Nicolaus Rubinstein mit folgendem Programm: Ouverture zu “Rußlan und Ludmilla” von Glinka, neuntes Concert von Spohr, Arie aus “Rußlan” von Glinka (Frau Alexandrowa), Chaconne von Bach, Ouverture zu “Oberon,” Concert von Bruch, Schubert’s “Erlkönig” (Frau Alexandrowa) sowie Romanze und Ungarische Tänze von Joachim. Auch hier electrisirte Joachim das Publikum so, daß die Hervorrufe nicht enden wollten und schließlich eine Zugabe (Schumann’s Abendlied) erzwangen. Frau Alexandrowa sang mit einer Innigkeit, wie sie selten zu finden, und wurde auch durch Hervorruf ausgezeichnet. Besonderen Reiz hatte der “Erlkönig” noch durch das vollendete Accompagnement Rubinstein’s. Das Concert war im Ganzen sehr besucht und trug dem Concertgeber eine Netto-Einnahme von 1800 Rubel ein. —
Am folgenden Tage (den 6.) Abends war die zweite Quartett-Soirée der russischen Musik-Gesellschaft unter Mitwirkung Joachim’s sowie der H.H. Laub, Grimaly [recte: Hřmalý], Gerber, Fitzenhagen und N. Rubinstein. Aufgeführt wurden: Beethoven’s Kreutzer-Sonate (Rubinstein und Joachim), Violin-Suite von Bach (Joachim), Duo concertante für 2 Violinen von Spohr (Laub und Joachim) und A moll-Quartett Op. 132 von Beethoven (Joachim, Grimaly, Gerber und Fitzenhagen). Obgleich des Guten an diesem Abend wohl etwas zu viel geboten war, so waren wir doch sämmtlich sehr zufrieden damit, umsomehr, da uns Gelegenheit gegeben wurde, Joachim in jedem Genre, nämlich im Sonaten-, Solo- und Quartett-Spiel bewundern zu können. Und wie wurde er bewundert: Des Beifalls kein Ende, sodaß J. noch eine Gavotte von Bach zugeben mußte. Den Höhepunkt des Enthusiasmus erreichte das Publikum, als die beiden genialen Violinhelden Joachim und Laub zusammen auf das Podium traten, um sich zu messen. Ja, es war ein Wettkampf, wie ihn wohl so leicht keine zweite Stadt zu hören bekommt. Einer schien den Andern übertreffen zu wollen, und doch könnte man Keinen über den Andern stellen. Hatte der Eine mehr Ton, so spielte der Andere so zart, daß ihm Jener nicht folgen konnte, kurz, es war ein Hochgenuß, wie er nicht sobald wieder kommt. Zum Schluß, um noch Allem die Krone aufzusetzen, folgte das großartige A moll-Quartett von Beethoven. Joachim spielte ausgezeichnet wie immer und wurde darin von H.H. Grimaly, Gerber und Fitzenhagen kräftig unterstützt. Welcher Applaus auch hier folgte, brauche ich kaum zu bemerken und erwähne nur noch, daß man an diesem Abend die Quartettsoirée im großen Saal des Adligenclubs gab und derselbe ausverkauft war. —
Hall of the Nobility in Moscow
Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 68, no. 13 March 22, 1872), p. 136
Moscow.
The seventh concert of the Russian Musical Society on February 3 was a musical event due to Joachim’s participation. He played Beethoven’s concerto, as well as three Hungarian dances by Brahms, and suffice it to say that he surpassed himself in the rendition of the concerto. Among the smaller things, he had to play one dance da capo. In addition to these pieces, Rubinstein’s character picture “Ivan the Terrible” was played, as well as a chorus from Tchaikovsky’s new Russian opera “Oprichnik” and the Volkmann D minor Symphony. Rubinstein’s composition made a great impression on the local audience, as did the symphony. The chorus, however, did not ignite much enthusiasm. –
On 5 Feb. Joachim gave his own matinee in the theater with the participation of Ms. Alexandrova [Aleksandra Aleksandrova-Kochetova] and Nikolai Rubinstein with the following program: Overture to “Ruslan and Ludmilla” by Glinka, ninth concerto by Spohr, aria from “Ruslan” by Glinka (Ms. Alexandrova), Chaconne by Bach, Overture to “Oberon,” concerto by Bruch, Schubert’s “Erlkönig” (Ms. Alexandrova) as well as Romanze and Hungarian dances by Joachim. Here, too, Joachim electrified the audience in such a way that the call backs did not want to end and finally demanded an encore (Schumann’s Abendlied). Ms. Alexandrova sang with an intimacy that is rarely found, and was also called back. The “Erlkönig” was particularly enchanting due to Rubinstein’s accomplished accompaniment. The concert was very well attended overall, and brought the concert-giver a net income of 1,800 rubles. –
On the evening of following day (the 6th), the second quartet soirée of the Russian Music Society took place with the participation of Joachim as well as Messrs. [Ferdinand] Laub, [Jan] Grimaly [recte: Hřmalý], [Yury] Gerber, [Wilhelm] Fitzenhagen and N. Rubinstein. The following works were performed: Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata (Rubinstein and Joachim), Violin Suite by Bach (Joachim), Duo Concertante for 2 violins by Spohr (Laub and Joachim) and A minor Quartet Op. 132 by Beethoven (Joachim, Grimaly, Gerber and Fitzenhagen). Although there was a bit too much of a good thing this evening, we were all very satisfied with it, all the more so since we were given the opportunity to admire Joachim in every genre, namely in sonata, solo and quartet playing. And how he was admired: there was no end to the applause, so that J. had to perform a gavotte by Bach as an encore. The peak of enthusiasm was reached when the two genius violin-heroes Joachim and Laub took the stage together to compete. Yes, it was a competition the likes of which no other city is likely to hear. Each seemed to want to surpass the other, and yet one could not place one above the other. If one had stronger tone, then the other played so delicately that the former could not follow him. In short, it was a delight such as will not soon come again. Finally, to crown it all, came the magnificent A minor quartet by Beethoven. Joachim played superbly as always and was strongly supported by Messrs. Grimaly, Gerber and Fitzenhagen. I need hardly mention the applause that followed here, too, and I will only add that on this evening, the quartet soirée took place in the great hall of the Club of the Nobility, and that it was sold out. –
07 Wednesday Jun 2023
Posted Uncategorized
inNeue Berliner Musikzeitung
XXVI. Jahrgang, no. 30 (17 Juli 1872), s. 228
[English translation below © Robert W. Eshbach, 2023]
See also: Joachim BRIEFE III, pp. 83 ff.
Josef Joachim in Petersburg. Stellung
Des Künstlers in Russland.
Von W. v. Lenz
Du bist der wahre grosse Mann,
Der Lobeswort nicht hören kann.
Er sucht bescheiden auszuweichen
Und thut, als gäb es seines Gleichen! (Faust 2. Theil.)
Das so lange ersehnte Erscheinen von J. Joachim in Petersburg, vor Eintritt der concertsaison, war ein Ereigniss, das in Bedeutsamkeit weitaus die Saison überstrahlte. Petersburg hatte die ganze Reihe der grossen Violinisten des Jahrhunderts, mit der einzigen Ausnahme von Paganini, erlebt, Lipinski, in den derissiger Jahren, später Haumann, Sivori, Ole-Bull, Ernst, Vieuxtemps, Prume, Kontsky, das Quartett der Gebrüder Müller aus Braunschweig, den elegantin Artot, den biederkräftigen Laub, Auer, Wieniawski, Wilhelmj. Im Quartett- als im Concertstyl hatte Petersburg diese unter sich so verschiedene Virtuosen schätzen können. Unter diesen Umständen, bei der Einstimmigkeit der ausländischen Presse über Herrn Joachim, hatte man noch nie einen Künstler mit mehr Erwartung entgegen gesehen. Und noch nie hat ein Künstler mehr seinem Ruf entsprochen. Die Grossfürstin Helene, die Patronin der Russischen musikalischen Gesellschaft, hatte Herrn Joachim zu einem Besuch von Petersburg bestimmt. In ihrem Palais nahm der Künstler Wohnung.
Wer immer in Beethoven, einen Dichter erkannt hat, und diese Anschauung gewinnt, post tot errores! immer mehr Anhänger, einen Dichter, der in den Zeichen der Musik eine ideale Geschichte des menschlichen Gemüths und Herzens schrieb, der darf einem Violinisten sagen: “Gieb mir Beethoven und ich will Dir sagen, wer Du bist!” Herr Joachim gab uns bei seinem ersten Auftreten 3 Quartette von Beethoven, die den 3 Geistesstudien entsprachen, die man immer allgemeiner in Beethoven unterscheidet und die darin bestehen, dass Beethoven in seinen ersten Werken (in runder Zahl bis Op. 20) in den Formen, Rahmen und Farben von Haydn und Mozart, selbstständige Bilder schuf; in seinen mittleren Werken seine eigene, grosse Persönlichkeit entfaltete, eigene Ideen in eigenen Formen entwickelte — in seinen letzten Werken aber (über Op. 100 hinaus) die Musikidee von allen Schablonen entfesselnd, nur nach seiner Idee lebt, die er vorzugsweise auf das speculative Gebiet des menschlichen Gedankens versetzt, indem er für seine eigenartige Spekulation auch eigenartige Formen sich erfindet.
Herr Joachim hatte aus der ersten Beethovenperiode das B-dur-Quartett (Op. 18) gewählt, aus der zweiten das E-moll-, aus der dritten das Es-dur-Quartett. Eine rationelle Wahl der, bei uns, nur Laub (1856) Gerecht geworden war. Joachim möchten wir der deutschen Eiche, in deren symbolischer Bedeutung vergleichen. Alles in ihm, in seiner Leistung, ist trefflich und einfach, mächtig und stark. Keine Spur von Virtuosenthum, im Gebahren, in einem selbstzufriedenen Herauskehren einer für sich und an sich Geltung heischenden Persönlichkeit. Herr Joachim trat in den, der Musik besonders günstigen grossen Saal des Kaufmannsclubb, als ob er zu demselben nach längerer Abwesenheit zurückkehre. So auch war sein Empfang von Seiten des lange vor Anfang wie zu einem Fest dicht versammelten Publikums. Dieser Beifallssturm, dieses Akklamiren waren nicht gemacht, war ein beredtes Zeugniss der Herzensfreude, einmal das Höchste geniessen zu dürfen. Das kleine B-dur-Quartett, wie man es zur Unterscheidung von dem der dritten Periode zu nennen pflegt, ist Haydn und Mozart im Styl, mit einem Ausbau Beethoven’scher Phantasie (La Malinconia). Wir haben es nie so reizend gehört, nie eine Tonfülle im piano, wie die von Herrn Joachim, nie ein so durchgeführtes Verständniss des Ganzen im Einzelnen, des Einzelnen im Ganzen. Da wurde nichts hervorgehoben, da wartete nicht die zweite Stimme auf ihre Eintritte, um zu glänzen; sie wusste sich als Theil im Ganzen, in der Leistung zum Ganzen fand sie ihre Aufgabe. Jede Note dieses Quartettes ist ein langjähriger Einwohner Peterburgs [sic] dennoch erschien das Werk in vielen seiner Theile neu, vor allem in der an’s Herz greifenden Exposition des Andante-Motivs durch Herrn Joachim, und im Trio des Scherzos in dessen von den Violinisten “wiederhaarig” genannten, unbequem liegenden Bravour-Figur, deren technische Schwierigkeit der Künstler spielend überwand, in dem Prestissimo des Schlusses. Eine dermaassen beschleunigte Bewegung, bei so durchsichtiger Klarheit, ist eine Leistung in thesi, die Signatur der Gesammtleistung des Künstlers aber, die Unterordnung seiner Persönlichkeit unter die Egigenart des Dichters, dessen Interpretation er sich weiht. Herrn Joachim’s Gesammtleistung ist wie ein griechischer Tempel, über dessen Kunstausdruck, über dessen unnahbare Plasticität der Künstler (Mensch) nicht zur Erscheinung kommt. Nun schildert Beethoven hervorragend den Kampf des Menschen gegen das Leben. Dieser Kampf steht in Herrn Joachim’s Darstellungen unvergleichlich da, nicht in gleichem Maasse, der Kämpfer, das subjective Moment. Der Menschenbrust steht im Allgemeinen, der Mensch, das Menschliche, auch noch in der Kunst, am nächsten. Der Schmerz und die Freude, man will sie auch noch in dem die Kunst darstellenden Menschen mitfühlen, nicht nur in dem Austruck, den der Mensch dem Gefühl in der Kunst zu geben vermag. Das Subjekt, mit einem Wort, hat für den Menschen ein unmittelbareres Interesse, als das Objekt. Die objektivste (künstlerisch vollendeste) Darstellung ist die des Herrn Joachim, hat man unter den Richtungen zu wählen, so wird man der letzten den Vorzug geben müssen, steht sie gleich der Masse im Publikum entfernter. Das E-moll-Quartett ist spezifisch, dramatischen Inhaltes, hier fehlen nur die Bretter, die die Welt bedeuten, hier ist die Wolfsschlucht, hier pfeifen Freischützkugeln (1ster Satz). Vielleicht wäre hier in der ersten Stimme mehr Subjectivität am Platze gewesen. Das Ganze des Bildes, in Technik und Auffassung, war wiederum das Vollendetste, und das bedeutend, gegen alle Beispiele, beschleunigte Tempo im Finale eine traumartige Ueberraschung. Im Scherzo platzte an Herrn Joachim’s Violine die E-Saite. Ein über jede Schwierigkeit seines Instrumentes gebietender Virtuose, wie Herr Joachim, konnte in anderen Positionen den Satz zu Ende spielen. Dazu war dieser Künstler zu gewissenhaft, er versah sich nicht der Gelegenheit zu einer Virtuosenthat, die es Eindrucks selten verfehlt; er zog seine Saite auf, so natürlich, so einfach, wie bei einer Probe und das Publikum benutzte die Pause zu anhalgendem Applaudiren. Baillot machte es anders! Das war in Paris, wo der Seiltanz immer am Platz. Baillot platzte die E-Saite im Finale (Fugato) des Beethoven’schen C-dur-Quartetts; er fuhr stehend fort und selbst den greisen Cherubini sah Reporter applaudiren (1829). Es war aber auch darnach, das Finale!
XXVI. Jahrgang, no. 30 (24. Juli 1872), s. 233.
(Schluss.)
Die Darstellung des alle technischen und physischen Schwierigkeiten auf einmal bietenden Quartetts Op. 127 war die Krone des Abends, in Scherzo und Finale, insbesondere deren Tempi man noch nicht in diesem Feuer gehört hatte. Einheitlicheren, freudig erregieren Beifall mag selbst Herr Joachim noch nicht gefunden haben! Das Publikum erhob sich, die Grossfürstin becomplimentirte den Künstler in ihrer Separatloge. Hervorzuheben ist die unübertreffliche Mitwirkung unserer Herrn Dawidow (Cello), Pickel (2te V.), Weikmann (Viola). Und das Extraconcert der Russ. Mus. Gesellschaft, im bis auf den letzten Platz besetzten Saale der Adelsversammlung, erschien mit dem Violinconcert von Beethoven. Geist und Styl desselben unterschieden sich quantitative, nicht specifisch vom Quartettstyl. Die Figuren (Passagen) im zweiten und letzten Satze ausgenommen, ist das Concert nicht weniger die Verwerthung einer einheitlichen Idee durch die Orchesterstimmen, mit einer an deren Spitze gestellten Stimme als prima inter pares, als Ebenbürtige unter Ebenbürtigen, wie im Quartett, was Beethoven schon damit ausspricht, dass er in der Pauke, Solo, in 4 dumpfen, bedeutsamen Schlägen, sein Hauptthema aufstellt. Der erste Satz, ein gleichsam an das Publikum herantretender feierlicher Festzug, ist die Verherrlichung des Gesammtbegriffes musikalischer Kunst, nicht die Verehrung des goldenen Kalbes, in einem Solospieler. Wir haben das von Violinisten ersten Ranges bei uns oft gegebene Werk, nicht vollendeter im Einzelnen, nie zum Ganzen der Erscheinung, so abgerundet gehört. Trillerketten, so abgemessen so sing- und klangreich auf den letzten Stufen noch, haben wir nicht erlebt, nie eine so unerschütterlich feste und ruhige Haltung in einem Virtuosen beobachtet. Herrn Joachim’s Bogen scheint die Saite nie verlassen zu haben, sein Ansatz ist kein Anfang, immer Fortsetzung. In seinem eigenen Concert glänzte der Künstler im Violinconcert von Mendelssohn und in der Gesangsscene von Spohr, mit anderen Worten, in einem musialischen Inhalt, mit hervorragender erster Stimme, die dem Bilde seine Bedeutung aufdrückt. Das Seelenleben in Mendelssohn hörten wir nie edler, durchdachter darstellen. Hier wurde die Leistung durch ein subjektives Moment im Virtuosen unterstützt, der, in das Gedicht aufgegangen, dasselbe in persönlicher und künstlerischer Begeisterung recitirte, man darf wohl sagen sprach. Das Adagio war wie eine neue Schöpfung. Eine Kantilene wie diese, eine Vollendung in den Abschlüssen der Perioden begegneten wir, für unseren Theil, nur in Spohr und Bernhard Romberg, und im piano nicht in der krystallreinen Höhe von Herrn Joachim, eines Vertreters der grossen, der grössten Schule des Saiteninstrumentes, einer Schule, die den Virtuosenstand verschmäht, nur Musikgeist will und kennt. Dies ist Zeichen und Wappen des Künstlers. Das Spohr’sche Concert war demselben die Gelegenheit, die virtuose Seite des, Effektiverliebtheiten nicht abgeneigten Saiteninstruments herauszukehren, in triumphirenden Doppelgängen, heroischen Skalen über das ganze Register, mit dem ganzen, diesem Apparat überhaupt abzugewinnenden musikalischen Eindruck. Die Violinsonate von Tartini (G-moll), eine Romanze eigener Komposition, die ungarischen Tänze von Brahms zum Klavier vollendeten den Cyklus aller vom Künstler, zu einem Abend zusammengestellten Style. Die Sonate von Tartini ist von so innigem Gehalt, so dramatisch im dritten Satz, so humoristisch, dass man sie für ein gelungenes Produkt unserer Tage halten könnte. Jede inhaltliche Intention machte Herr Joachim geltend. Unter der Glätte seiner Bogenführung und der unerschütterlichen, plastischen Sicherheit, die ihn bezeichnet, verschwanden die technischen Schwierigkeiten, von denen man nicht begreift, wie sie vor mehr als hundert Jahren überwunden warden könnten. Damals war der Triller ein integraler Selbstbestandtheil, nicht wie in unseren Tagen, Verzierung, Abschluss
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Und leider oft Spielerei. Wie Herr Joachim das geltend zu machen wusste! Sein Trillerstyl war hier wieder ein anderer als in Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Spohr.
Petersburg ist fortgeschritten in musikalischer Mündigkeit. Der Zugeständnisse, die ihm Herr Joachim im Salonstyl zur Begleitung des Pianoforte machte, brauchte es nicht, nicht des Abendliedes von Schumann, der Barcarole von Spohr, einer zweiten Auflage der Brahms’schen Tänze. Es ist immer ein missliches Ding, coram populo, vor einem die Gesammtheit des musikalischen Begriff symbolisierenden Orchester, ein Salonsprechen am Klavier, entstehen zu sehen. Ein Quartett auf dem Podium des Orchesters, hätte sich ganz anders gemacht, wäre dem Publikum viel interessanter, hätte der Begabung des Künstlers im grossen Styl mehr entsprochen, wäre auch etwas Neues gewesen, wie die Ausführung von zwei Concerten an einem Abend, etwas bei uns Neues war. Die Wahl der Ouverturen im Concert war eine treffliche, Coriolan, Euryanthe. Nur zu schnell nahm dieselben Herr Naprawnik, mit dem trefflichen Orchester der russischen Oper, wobei an Inhalt verloren geht, was etwa (wenn anders!) an Effekt auf das grosse Publikum gewonnen ist. An seinem zweiten Quartettabend gab Herr Joachim das Sextett für Streichinstrumente von Brahms, was bei uns neu. Ueberwältigend wirkte der prägnante Ausdruck des Humors in dem C-dur-Quartett von Haydn (Anfang in den 2 Violinen) dessen Minuetto wiederhot warden musste. Ein so tief gehender Humor, eine so sprechende Bedeutung ist uns nie auf der Geige vorgekommen. Nicht der Chaconne von Bach, eines archäischen Monuments, brauchte Herr Joachim, um in Petersburg der erste lebende violinist zu sein, der Ebenbürtige aller dagewesenen. Am Hofe des Grossfürsten Constantin bewunderten wir Herrn Joachim im Ottetto von Mendelssohn, von dem jede Note in Petersburg bekannt ist. Eben so grossen Beifall fand der Künstler in Moskau. Von einem Konservatorium zum andern andern angekündigt, von der Grossfürstin Helene auch nach Moskau berufen, wo Alles vorbereitet, das grosse Theater ausverkauft war, wäre dennoch Herr Joachim fast nicht mit seinem eigenen concert zu Stande gekommen. Die Erlaubniss des Hofministers in Petersburg, Chef aller kaiserlichen Theater, war durch den General-Gouverneur von Moskau einzuziehen. Man telegraphirte auch direct an die Grossfürstin. Die Stunde drängte, Versäumnisse waren vorgekommen, das Concert kam nur soeben im letzten Augenblick zu Stande, mit dem grössten Erfolg. Hier spielte unter Anderen, Herr Joachim mit Laub, Professor am Moskauer Konservatorium ein Duett von Spohr.
Neue Berliner Musikzeitung
Vol. 26, no. 30 (17 Juli 1872), p. 228
Josef Joachim in Petersburg.
Position of the Artist in Russia.
By W. v. Lenz
You’ve a truly great man’s ways:
He won’t hear a word of praise.
He’ll modestly defer to us
And act as if all were equals. (Faust 2nd part.)
The long-awaited appearance of J. Joachim in Petersburg, before the concert season, was an event that far outshone the season in importance. Petersburg had experienced the whole array of the great violinists of the century, with the sole exception of Paganini; Lipinski, in the thirties, later Haumann, Sivori, Ole-Bull, Ernst, Vieuxtemps, Prume, Kontsky, the quartet of the Müller brothers from Braunschweig, the elegant Artot, the strong and sober Laub, Auer, Wieniawski, Wilhelmj. Petersburg had been able to appreciate these virtuosi, so different from one another, in both the quartet- and concert style. Under these circumstances, with the unanimity of the foreign press about Mr. Joachim, no artist had ever been awaited with a greater sense of anticipation. And never has an artist better lived up to his reputation. Grand Duchess Helene, the patroness of the Russian Musical Society, had chosen Mr. Joachim to visit Petersburg. The artist took up residence in her palace.
Whoever has recognized a poet in Beethoven — and this view is gaining more and more followers, post tot errores! — a poet who, with musical symbols, wrote an ideal account of the human mind and heart, may say to a violinist: “Give me Beethoven and I will tell you who you are!” Herr Joachim gave us at his first appearance 3 quartets of Beethoven, which corresponded to the 3 psychological types that one always distinguishes more broadly in Beethoven, and that proceed from the fact that in his first works (in round number up to Op. 20), Beethoven created independent pictures in the forms, frames and colors of Haydn and Mozart; in his middle works, he developed his own great personality, his own ideas in his own forms — but in his last works (beyond Op. 100), he liberates the musical idea from all models, lives only according to his vision, which he prefers to transfer to the speculative realm of human thought by also inventing strange forms for his singular innovations.
Herr Joachim chose the B flat major quartet (Op. 18) from the first Beethoven period, the E minor quartet from the second, and the E flat major quartet from the third; a rational choice that, in our country, only Laub (1856) had done justice to. We would compare Joachim to the German oak, in its symbolic meaning. Everything in him, in his performance, is admirable and simple, powerful and strong. There is not a trace of virtuosity in his behavior; no self-satisfied display of personality that strives after recognition for, and in, itself. Herr Joachim entered the large hall of the Merchants’ Club, which is particularly conducive to music, as if he were returning to it after a long absence. So, too, was his reception from the audience that had crowded in long before the concert commenced, as if for a feast. This storm of applause, this acclamation, was not feigned; it was an eloquent testimony of heart’s joy to for once be allowed to enjoy the best. The little B-flat major quartet, as it is called to distinguish it from that of the third period, is in the style of Haydn and Mozart, with an elaboration of Beethovenian fantasy (La Malinconia). We have never heard it played so charmingly, never with such fullness of tone in the piano as by Herr Joachim, never such a realized understanding of the whole in the detail, the detail in the whole. Nothing was emphasized, the second voice did not wait for its entrance to shine; it understood itself as a part of the whole, in the service of the whole it found its role.
Every note of this quartet is a familiar resident of Peterburg [sic], yet the work appeared new in many of its parts, especially in the heart-stopping exposition of the Andante motive by Herr Joachim, and in the trio of the Scherzo with its uncomfortably situated bravura figure in the prestissimo of the conclusion, called “cranky” by violinists, whose technical difficulty the artist easily overcame. Such a rapid pace, with such transparent clarity, is an achievement in thesi, but also the signature of the artist’s overall achievement — the subordination of his personality to the unique character of the poet to whose interpretation he consecrates himself. Herr Joachim’s overall performance is like a Greek temple, above whose artistic expression, above whose unapproachable plasticity the artist (Mensch) does not emerge. Now, Beethoven masterfully describes the struggle of man against life. This fight is incomparable in Herr Joachim’s interpretations; not to the same extent the fighter, the subjective aspect. Broadly speaking, the person, the human, stands closest to the human breast — also in art. Pain and joy — one wants also to feel them sympathetically in the person representing the art, not just in the expression that the person is able to give to the artwork itself. The subject, in a word, has a more immediate interest for a man than the object. Herr Joachim’s is the most objective (artistically most perfect) representation. If one had to choose among approaches, one would have to give preference to the latter (though) it is less appealing to most of the audience. The E minor quartet is of specific, dramatic content; here, only the stage that represents the world is missing; here is the Wolf’s Glen; here the Freischütz-bullets whistle (1st movement). Perhaps more subjectivity would have been appropriate here in the first violin part. The whole of the presentation, in technique and conception, was again most accomplished, and the markedly rapid tempo in the finale, contrary to all precedent, a dream-like surprise. In the scherzo, the E string of Herr Joachim’s violin broke. A virtuoso like Herr Joachim, commanding every difficulty of his instrument, could finish the movement in other positions. This artist was too conscientious for that; he did not avail himself of the opportunity to perform a virtuoso deed, which rarely fails to impress — he replaced his string as naturally, as simply, as in a rehearsal and the audience used the pause for sustained applause. Baillot did it differently! That was in Paris, where the tightrope walk is always in place. Baillot broke his E string in the finale (fugato) of Beethoven’s C major quartet; he continued standing and reporters saw even the aged Cherubini applauding (1829). But after that came the finale!
Vol. 26, no. 30 (24. July 1872), p. 233.
(Conclusion.)
The performance of the Op. 127 Quartet, which presents all technical and physical difficulties at once, was the crown of the evening, in the scherzo and finale especially, whose tempi had never been played with such fire. Herr Joachim may never have heard more unanimous and joyfully excited applause! The audience rose and the Grand Duchess complimented the artist in her private box. The unsurpassable contributions of our Messrs. Davydov (cello), Pickel (2ndvln.), and Weikmann (viola) should be acknowledged. And the extra concert of the Russ. Mus. Society, in the hall of the nobility, which was filled to capacity, featured Beethoven’s Violin Concerto. Its spirit and style did not differ in quantity from music of the quartet. With the exception of the figures (passages) in the second and last movement, the concerto is not less the exploitation of a unified idea by the orchestral voices as in the quartet, with a voice placed at their head as prima inter pares, as equal [sic] among equals, which Beethoven states initially by setting up his main theme in the timpani, solo, in 4 sombre, significant beats. The first movement, a solemn procession approaching the audience, as it were, is the glorification of the overall concept of musical art, not the worship of the golden calf, in a solo player. We have often heard this work, given by first-rate violinists, incomplete in detail; never so well-rounded as a whole. We have never witnessed trills so measured, so melodious and resonant even on the final steps, nor have we observed such unwavering and calm composure in a virtuoso. Herr Joachim’s bow seems to have never left the string; his preparation is not a beginning but a continuation. In his own concert, the artist shone in Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto and in the Gesangsscene by Spohr, in other words, in a musical content, with an outstanding principal voice that gives the image its meaning. We have never heard Mendelssohn’s spiritual life portrayed more nobly or thoughtfully. Here, the performance was supported by a subjective element in the virtuoso who, immersed in the poem, recited it with personal and artistic enthusiasm — one might even say, spoke it. The Adagio was like a new creation. A cantilena like this, a perfection in the endings of the periods, we encountered, for our part, only in Spohr and Bernhard Romberg, and in the piano not in the crystal-clear height of Mr. Joachim, a representative of the great, the greatest, school of the stringed instrument, a school that scorns the virtuoso status and only seeks and knows musical spirit. This is sign and emblem of the artist. Spohr’s concerto was an opportunity for him to show the virtuoso side of the stringed instrument, which is not averse to love of effect, in triumphant double stops, heroic scales spanning the entire range, producing a musical impression that could only be gained by employing all of these devices. Tartini’s Violin Sonata (G minor), a romance of his own composition, and Brahms’ Hungarian Dances with piano completed the cycle of pieces assembled by the artist for the evening. Tartini’s sonata is of such intimate content, so dramatic in the third movement, so humorous, that it could be considered a successful product of our day. Herr Joachim made every intention of the content tell. Under the smoothness of his bowing and the unshakable, sculptural certainty that characterizes him, technical difficulties disappeared that one cannot believe could have been overcome more than a hundred years ago. At that time, the trill was an integral component, not, as in our days, an ornamentation, a termination,
234
and unfortunately often a gimmick. How Herr Joachim knew how to manifest that! The style of his trills was different here than in Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and Spohr.
St. Petersburg has advanced in musical maturity. The concessions that Herr Joachim made to it in salon style with piano accompaniment were not necessary; not for Schumann’s Abendlied, Spohr’s Barcarole, or a second edition of Brahms’s dances. It is always an awkward thing to witness a salon-style performance with piano accompaniment, coram populo, in front of an orchestra, which symbolizes the entirety of the musical concepetualization. A quartet on the orchestra podium would have been much more fitting, much more interesting for the audience, and would have corresponded more to the talent of the artist in grand style. It would also have been something new, just as the performance of two concertos in one evening was something new for us. The choice of overtures in the concert was excellent: Coriolan, Euryanthe. However, they were conducted too quickly by Mr. Napravnik, with the excellent orchestra of the Russian Opera, losing in content what is gained (if anything!) in effect on the large audience. On his second quartet evening, Mr. Joachim performed the Sextet for Strings by Brahms, which was new to us. The concise expression of humor in Haydn’s Quartet in C major (beginning in the second violins) had an overwhelming effect, and its minuet had to be repeated. We have never witnessed such profound humor, such eloquent significance, on the violin before. Herr Joachim did not need Bach’s Chaconne, an archaic monument, to become the first living violinist in Petersburg, the equal of all who came before. At the court of Grand Duke Constantine, we admired Herr Joachim in Mendelssohn’s Octet, every note of which is well-known in Petersburg. The artist received equally great acclaim in Moscow. Announced from one conservatory to another, summoned by the Grand Duchess Helene also to Moscow, where everything was prepared and the grand theater sold out, Herr Joachim nevertheless almost failed to hold his own concert. The permission of the Court Minister in St. Petersburg, the chief of all Imperial theaters, had to be obtained through the Governor-General of Moscow. They also telegraphed directly to the Grand Duchess. Time was pressing, there had been delays, and the concert came together only at the last moment — with great success. Among other things, Herr Joachim played a duet by Spohr with Laub, a professor at the Moscow Conservatory.
07 Monday Mar 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inThe Times, London, Issue 18621 (May 28, 1844), p. 4.
Joseph Joachim acknowledging the audience, drawing thought to be by Mendelssohn, ca. May 1844 (?), with autograph texts by Julius Benedict and Felix Mendelssohn.
Brahms-Institut an der Musikhochschule Lübeck, D-LÜbi, ABH 6.3.97
Illustration in Valerie Woodring Goertzen and Robert Whitehouse Eshbach, The Creative Worlds of Joseph Joachim, Woodbridge: Boydell (2021), 28.
PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY
___________
The fifth concert took place last night, and the following was the programme:—
Sinfonia in B Flat (No. 4)—Beethoven.
Duet, “Stung by horror,” Miss Rainforth and Herr Staudigl (Pascal Bruno)—J. L. Hatton.
Concerto, violin, Herr Joachim—Beethoven.
Overture (Faust)—Spohr.
Duetto, “Pazzerello, O qual ardir,” Mr. Machin and Herr Staudigl (Faust)—Spohr.
Quintetto e Coro, “Ah! goda lor felicitatie,” the principal parts by Miss Rainforth, Miss A. Williams, Mr. Manvers, Mr. Machin, and Herr Staudigl (Faust)—Spohr.
PART II.
Overture (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)—Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Scherzo (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)—Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Song, with chorus, “You spotted snakes,” Miss Rainforth, and Miss A. Williams (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)—Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Notturno, march, and finale chorus (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)—Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
Song, with chorus, “Joy, ’tis a glorious thought,” Herr Staudigl (Fidelio)—Beethoven.
Hunting chorus (The Seasons)—Haydn.
Leader, Mr. Loader [sic; recte: (John David) Loder]; conductor, Dr. F. Mendelssohn Bartholdy.
The society may almost be said in this concert to have taken a new position; in the selection of the music and in the style of its execution it was one of the finest public performances we have ever attended. For once the character of the vocal may be said to have approached that of the instrumental music, and hence this perfect ensemble.
Beethoven’s symphony is that one which, next to the Pastorale, may be said to be the most clear and obvious in its beauties. It has always, therefore, commanded public attention during its progress, and under the baton of Mendelssohn, might be said almost to chain down the ears of the audience. The slow movement, the first portion of it, was played with a degree of perfection in which the nicest ear could not discover a fault.
Beethoven’s violin concerto, which belongs to the class of symphonies, so grand and varied in its design, was played by young Joachim in a manner which caused astonishment in the oldest musicians and professors of that instrument, who discover in a boy of only 13 years of age [sic], all the mastery of the art which it has cost most of them the labour of a life to attain, if indeed any of them have reached to the same excellence by which he is in all respects distinguished. This concerto, however attractive and beautiful as an orchestral composition, has been seldom played by professors of the violin, because the passages, though excessively difficult, convey no notion of that difficulty to those who hear it played, and the merit of the performer has no chance of being appreciated by those who have listened through their attendances on concerts to the gorgeous displays of other writers. Joachim has contrived to throw all this aside, and by his clear and distinct articulation, his perfect intonation, and a conception of his subject which denotes almost a mind kindred with that of the composer, has produced a perfect whole, and so blended the solo instrument with the rest of the composition as to present this great masterpiece with the effect which the author intended. The piece is one of those of which Beethoven himself—and no one exercised a severer judgment on his own writings than he did—was proud. But the extraordinary talent of Joachim is but described in part by what has been said of his manner of playing this concerto. He appeared himself as a composer also, having constructed two beautiful cadences, one for the first and the other for the last movement, into which he has infused the spirit of the author; has varied while he adopted his subjects, introducing into them still greater difficulties of execution, yet never deviating from the main design. Many will hardly believe that Joachim could himself have written these cadences, but of the fact there is, we believe, no doubt; no other hand has touched them. The applause bestowed on him was great, but not more so than his deserts; one universal feeling governed the whole audience. He was interrupted by plaudits wherever they could be permitted, sometimes even to the injury of the composition; and at the close they lasted some minutes.
Till last night there has been no performance from Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream in this country, except the overture. The curtain is now raised, and we are made acquainted with some pieces which are blended with Shakespeare’s play as incidents merely, for the Germans have not tortured it into an opera, and which may take rank with any of the compositions of this master. The scherzo is a most original movement, intricate and difficult, and taxing the powers of the orchestra to the utmost; the march, a magnificent piece, simple yet new. Both of these were encored. With respect to the latter and incident occurred, too characteristic of the great care of Mendelssohn in conducting an orchestra to be passed over. The desire of the audience to have the march repeated had been shown in the usual manner, and could not be doubted. At the moment when it was expected to recommence, the conductor suddenly disappeared from his post, and was seen slowly advancing to the top of the orchestra, the audience all the time keeping silence. Some notes had been omitted, which he must set right before he could allow it to begin again. He then resumed his station, raised his baton, and the march was resumed amidst a thunder of applause. In the finale he returns to that subject which closes the overture, and interweaves the chorus with it, and nothing of the kind could be more perfect. We must adopt these things on our stage, or allow that the Germans go beyond us in their illustration of our own great bard.
The opera of Pascal Bruno, from which the duet of Miss Rainforth with Staudigl is taken, is the work of a countryman, Mr. J. L. Hatton, who has just returned from Vienna, where the entire piece has been performed with a degree of success which has raised the estimation of English talent in that refined capital. The specimen given proves that the success was well deserved. He has formed himself, in his orchestral combinations, upon Mozart, and commits the fault of overlaying the voice by the fulness of them, but many of his effects are quite his own, and his general talent is undoubted. The duet was very finely sung, both by Miss Rainforth and by Staudigl.
In the selections from Faust also the boundary of the overture was passed to introduce us to the opera itself, and the acquaintance with it was most satisfactory. The overture is one of the finest Spohr has written; the hint of the double orchestra, employed in the minuet which leads from the overture into the opera itself, is taken obviously from Don Giovanni, but he has worked the subject after his own admirable manner.
We ought not to take leave of this concert without noticing the marked improvement in the discipline and general effect of the orchestra in the short time since Mendelssohn has become the conductor and assumed the absolute control over it. Except perhaps in some portion of the vocal music, when the accompaniment was too powerful for the voices, not a fault, not a slip was to be detected. All lovers of music and all professors must acknowledge their great obligation to him; he has solved the great problem of the occasional inefficiency of this orchestra in showing that its component parts were most excellent, and that nothing was wanted but a good conductor who could acquire their confidence, and bring out their inherent powers. He has proved, what has often been asserted, that the same conductor must act uniformly in order to insure the success of a great concert. That there are artists already here, English as well as foreign, who could accomplish this, is not to be denied; but to produce willing obedience a great name is wanted, and that name is Mendelssohn. He was received with the most cordial and vehement applause, not only on his first appearance, but whenever he presented himself in the orchestra.
13 Sunday Feb 2022
Posted Uncategorized
inOriginally published in: Hermann Erler, “Niels Wilhelm Gade (geboren 22 Februar 1817). Eine Erinnerung an seinen 91. Geburtstag mit ungedruckten Briefen von Joseph Joachim und Clara Schumann.” Berliner Tageblatt und Handels-Zeitung, Vol. 37, No. 96 (Saturday, 22 February 1908), 1. Beiblatt.
Joseph Joachim to Niels Gade, ca. 1862 [1]
Hannover
Lieber, verehrter Gade
Ein junger Geiger aus Ungarn, Leopold Auer, den Du, glaube ich, bei mir schon gesehen hast, bittet mich bei seiner bevorstehenden Reisen nach Kopenhagen um einige Zeilen an Dich. So ungern ich eigentlich “Empfehlungen” gebe, eine so große Freude gewährt es mir in dem vorliegenden Falle meinen jungen Kollegen und Landsmann Dir vorzustellen und Dich zu bitten, ihn anzuhören, damit er selbst sich Dir empfehlen könnte. Es wird gewiß nicht mehr bedürfen, um Dir das lebendigste musikalische Interesse für ihn einzuflößen, der ja als Violinspieler allen seinen Altersgenossen, die ich gehört, weit vorgeschritten ist! Aber auch als Lieber, bescheidener, braver Junge wird sich Auer gewiß Dein Wohlwollen erwerben, und so hoffe ich Du wirst gern Deinen großen Einfluß zu seinen Gunsten geltend machen. Der Vater meines Schützlings, der mit nach Kopenhagen reist, würde Dir für Deinen Rath von Herzen dankbar sein, wenn Du gleich Anfangs über seine Pläne mit ihm sprechen wolltest. An Toofte [2] [Valdemar Tofte] will ich ihm selbst einen Gruß mitgeben.
Und nun will ich Dir noch die Dir gewiß willkommene Nachricht mitteilen, daß ich meine Direktion der Concerte hier beibehalte und bloß während der Dauer derselben (4 Monate) in Hannover zu sein brauche. Der König hat mir, nach meiner Kündigung, diese dankenswerthen Vorschläge gemacht. So werde ich (Dich) dann leicht künftighin einmal besuchen können.
Wir studiren jetzt hier den ganzen Schumannschen Faust, den ich dirigiren werde. Stockhausen wird drin mitwirken, und ich freue mich darauf.
Herzlich grüßend
Dein
Joseph Joachim
Hannover
Dear, esteemed Gade
A young violinist from Hungary, Leopold Auer, whom I believe you have already seen at my place, asks me for a few lines to you before his upcoming travels to Copenhagen. As much as I do not like to give “recommendations,” it gives me great pleasure to introduce my young colleague and compatriot to you and to ask you to listen to him, so that he can recommend himself to you. It will certainly not take more to instill in you the liveliest musical interest in him, who as a violinist is far ahead of all his peers that I have heard! But Auer will certainly also earn your goodwill as a dear, modest, good young man, and so I hope you will gladly use your great influence in his favor. The father of my protégé, who is traveling with him to Copenhagen, would be heartily grateful for your advice if you would talk to him right away about his plans. I will give him a greeting to Toofte myself.
And now I want to tell you the news, which is certainly welcome, that I will keep my direction of the concerts here and only need to be in Hanover for their duration (4 months). After my resignation, the King made these grateful suggestions to me. So I will then easily be able to visit (you) sometime in the future.
We are now studying the entire Schumann Faust, which I will conduct. Stockhausen will participate in it, and I am looking forward to it.
With cordial greetings
Your
Joseph Joachim
[1] See: Georg Fischer, Musik in Hannover, Hannover & Leipzig: Hahn’sche Buchhandlung, 1903, p. 263.
[2] Danish violinist and pedagogue Valedmar Tofte (*21 October 1832 – †28 May 1907). At Gade’s suggestion, Tofte studied with Joachim from 1853 to 1856.
English translation ©2022 Robert W. Eshbach
12 Friday Nov 2021
Posted Uncategorized
inZum Gedächtnis Joseph Joachims. Worte, gesprochen bei der Beisetzung am 19. August 1907, von Pfarrer W. Nithack-Stahn. [Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtnis-Kirche, Berlin]
Eckart: Ein deutsches Literaturblatt, Jahrgang 1907/8, Nr. 1, Oktober: 66-68.
Translation by Robert W. Eshbach below
Jakobus 1, Vers 17: “Alle gute Gabe und alle vollkommene Gabe kommt von oben herab, von dem Vater des Lichts.”
Ein Lied ist verhallt, die Melodie eines großen Menschenlebens. Und wie wenn der Meister seine Geige sinken läßt und alles in tiefem Schweigen verharrt, den nachschwingenden Tönen im Inneren lauschend — so ist uns zu Mute an dem Sarge. Euch vor allem, die ihr aus dem Vollklang dieses Lebens den schönsten Laut heraushören durftet: den der Vaterliebe. Aber weit hinaus über den Kreis derer, die ihm menschlich verbunden waren, weit über Länder und Meere, wo nur irgend ein Ohr und ein Herz ist, in das je ein Ton von ihm gedrungen, zittert ein Etwas von diesem Leben nach.
Uns aber ziemt es, nun das große Schweigen gekommen ist, in das alles Lebendige einmal versinkt, wie vor allen bedeutenden Wirklichkeiten, so auch vor dieser nachzusinnen, woher sie kam, und was sie uns bedeutet.
Und wenn wir dieses Menschendasein überblicken, wir können kaum anders, als in den Ruf ausbrechen: Welch ein Leben! Glück nennt man das, was einem Gutes scheinbar in den Schoß fällt — und was wäre ihm nicht zugefallen? Von sorglichen Eltern gepflegt, von verständnisvollen Freunden gefördert, in bester Schule gebildet, entzückt er als Kind schon Tausende, und der damaligen Welt nennt ihn “eine herrliche Erscheinung”. Und doch, kein überreitzter Wunderknabe — im gesunden Körper reift eine gesunde Seele heran. Als Jüngling steht er ebenbürtig neben den Meistern seiner Kunst, von ihnen neidlos bewundert und geliebt. Die Besten seiner Zeit werden ihm Freunde. Ein kunstliebender Fürst wirbt um seine Dienste. Eine Meisterin des Gesanges tritt ihm als Lebensgefährtin zur Seite. Und während das neue Deutsche Reich zu erstehen beginnt, wird ihm der Ruf zuteil, in dessen Hauptstadt diese hohe Schule der Musik zu gründen. Fast vierzig Jahre währt seine Künstlerlaufbahn. In einem Alter, wo wir anderen noch in der Kinderstube spielen, dient er schon, ein kleiner Priester des Schönen. In Jahren, wo die meisten längst ihren Feierabend halten, waltet er seines Amtes, ohne an Muße zu denken. Was die Welt einem Künstler an Lorbeeren zu vergeben hat, hat er geerntet. Und als die Todeskrankheit über ihn kommt, darf er, getragen von Kindesdankbarkeit, zufrieden sprechen: “Es ist so schön, wenn man geliebt wird”, und endlich ohne Kampf entschlummern. Wahrlich, ein Erdenwallen, das an die Sonnenbahn des größten Dichters erinnert. Sollen wir von ihm sagen: er war ein Günstling des Schicksals. Oder sollen wir sagen: er hat sich seines Lebens Glück geschmiedet? Beides würde schwerlich in seinem Sinne sein. Das eine wäre ihm zu wenig fromm gedacht, das andere zu unbescheiden. “Die Kunst ist mir ein Heiligtum, ich könnte mein Leben mit Freude für sie hinopfern”, schreibt er als Achtzehnjähriger. Wer so spricht, der mißt sich selbst einen adeligeren Ursprung bei, als den, ein Produkt blinder Mächte oder eigenen Verdienstes zu sein. Sondern, was er ist und kann, gilt ihm als eine Gabe. Gute Gaben waren ihm in die Wiege gelegt, und zur Vollkommenheit hat er sie entwickelt, soweit das von einem Menschen gesagt werden kann. “Alle gute Gabe aber und alle vollkommene Gabe, — er wußte es, — kommt von oben herab “; sagen wir auch: “von unten herauf”, was liegt daran? Das Beste, was wir in uns tragen, was uns mit Schauern der Ehrfurcht und Liebe erfüllt, es stammte aus den höchsten Höhen, zu denen unser Gedanke schwindelnd emporsteigt, — es stammt aus den tiefsten Tiefen, in die wir staunend hinabblicken, dorther, wo die Quellen des Lebens rinnen; es stammt, — auch unser Toter hat sich dazu bekannt, — von dem “Vater des Lichts”, von dem alles Gute und Schöne geheimnisvoll ausstrahlt.
Und weil er seinen Genius ansah als etwas, das ihm gehörte und doch auch wieder nicht gehörte, darum gab er weiter, was ihm gegeben war, in selbstverständlicher Pflicht. Daher der eigentümliche Lebensernst, der schon an dem Knaben wohltuend auffiel und ihn von dem genialischen Gebahren schied, zu dem so mancher Hochbegabte sich berechtigt glaubt. Wahrlich, man kann zweifeln, was das Größere war von dem, was er uns gegeben hat: seine Kunst oder seine Persönlichkeit. Beides doch unzertrennlich. Was ein Künstler sei, er hat es uns wieder einmal gepredigt. Künstler sein, heißt nicht nur, ein Könner sein, — wer war ein solcher, wenn nicht er? — aber Künstler sein bedeutet mehr: ein ganzer Mensch sein, der eine eigene Welt im Busen trägt, eine Welt, die in heiligen Akkorden tönt, und der sie den Mitmenschen erschließt. Und wiederum daraus folgte die selbstlose Sachlichkeit dieses Künstlers, der in seinem Werke unterging. War’s nicht der Zauber, den er immer wieder übte, daß man den Tondichter selbst zu hören glaubte, den er wiedergab? Nenne man das ein seltenes Stilgefühl. Es war doch mehr: eine sittliche Kraft, die da wirkte; ja, eine religiöse Auffassung der Kunst, über der auch das Wort des Meisters von Nazareth schwebt: “Ich bin nicht gekommen, daß ich mir dienen lasse, sondern daß ich diene.” — Wer so den ganzen Menschen an die große Sache setzt, der kann nicht anders, als sein eigenes Menschentum nach allen Seiten hin vertiefen. So wundern wir uns nicht, daß dieser Musiker auch die Hochschule der Wissenschaft besucht; daß er, ein Lehrer von Weltruf, noch lernend im Hörsaale sitzt. Er war überzeugt: Man kann nicht genug sein, um aus sich etwas hervorzubringen. Und was war die treibende Kraft in ihm, ob er als Knabe mit Anspannung aller Sinne die Saiten des Lebens unter dem atemlosen Schweigen Tausender Beethovens Seele herausbeschwor; ob er als Leiter dieses Hauses nüchterne Tagesgeschäfte gewissenhaft erledigte oder ein Geschlecht von Schülern nach dem anderen bildete; ob er im engsten Kreis der Seinen der Hausmusik pflegte; ob er sein Können in den Dienst des Wohltuns stellte?
“Wenn ich mit Menschen- und mit Engelzungen redete, und hätte der Liebe nicht, so wäre ich ein tönendes Erz und eine klingende Schelle!” Ja, nennt es, wie ihr wollt, dieses wunderbare Etwas, ohne das auch die höchste Kunstfertigkeit, wie alles Menschentum, hohler Klang bleibt, nennt es: Liebe zur Sache, Liebe zur Idee — es ist doch im tiefsten Grunde Gottesliebe.
Darum: ein deutscher Künstler war’s. Es ist wohl keine Überhebung, sondern auch nur dankbare Anerkennung dessen, was unserem Volke von oben herab gegeben wurde, wenn wir sagen: diese völlige Versenkung in die innere Welt ist deutsche Art. Er hatte sie. Auf fremdem Boden erwachsen, auf deutschen verpflanzt, hat er auch jene andere deutsche Gnadengabe bewährt: zu allen Völkern allverstehend und allverständlich zu reden in der Weltsprache der Töne.
Und ein Erzieher zur Kunst ist er gewesen. Zu der Kunst, die nicht nach Beifall hascht oder nach Golde drängt; zu jener verinnerlichten Kunst, die rein um ihrer selbst willen da ist und sich einfach gibt, ohne zu begehren.
In dieser Eigenart seines Wesens war es wohl tief begründet, daß sein Herz vornehmlich an den alten Meistern und ihren unmittelbaren Erbfolgern hing. Was Goethe einst aus Italien heimbrachte: Einfalt und Stille, das gaben ihm die Klassiker deutscher Musik. Das hat er nach kurzem Schwanken für immer festgehalten. Nicht, daß er neuen Bahnen sich verschloß. Nicht, daß er, der Landsmann Liszts, nicht auch mit diesem Freunde gefühlt hätte. Aber die Linie seines Innersten lief in anderer Richtung. Von dem geliebtesten Lehrer seiner Jugend, Mendelssohn, erbte er mehr als den Taktstock, seines Geistes Hauch. Und ganz aus der Seele war ihm der Ruf des Großen von Bayreuth:
“Ehrt eure deutschen Meister!
So bannt ihr gute Geister!”
Großes war ihm gegeben — gute und vollkommene Gaben — Größeres gab er zurück.
Nun hat der, der ihn uns schenkte, diese seine Gabe wieder gefordert. Es ist ein sonderlicher und wehmütiger Gedanke, daß die Töne, die seine Saiten klangen, so, in dieser Persönlichkeitsstimmung, nie wieder durch die Welt erklingen werden.
Und wieder einmal geht ein Mitwirkender aus Deutschlands Heldenzeit dahin. Während man mit den Massen das Reich erkämpfte, hat er hier in der Hauptstadt sein klingendes Reich begründet und beherrscht und unser Volk groß machen helfen durch deutsche Art und Kunst. Hier war er für Unzählige das musikalische Gewissen. Nun ist er all den Meistern nachgegangen, die längst vor ihm verstummten.
“Aber, Freunde, nicht solche Trauertöne! Sondern laßt uns freudigere anstimmen!” Es gibt ein Gesetz von der Erhaltung der Kraft auch im geistigen Leben. Töne sind Wellen, die weiter fluten, unmeßbare Wirkung zeugend, durch die Äonen. Und mehr noch! Wenn in antiker Zeit ein Gottgeliebter starb, so tröstete man sich: “Ist der Leib zu Staub zerfallen, lebt der große Name noch.”
Er, der hier vor uns ruht, glaubte Höheres. Nach Mendelssohns Tode schrieb er: “Wir wollen sehen, daß wir in seinem Geiste weiterarbeiten, auf daß wir dem erhabenen Ziele immer näher rücken, damit wir einst mit gutem Gewissen vor unseren Meister treten können” Das ist es, was wir hoffen. Und jedes Scheiden einer Persönlichkeit wie dieser stärkt uns von neuem in dem Glauben, daß wir mit dem, was licht in uns war, begnadet von ewiger Liebe, am Ziele unserer Erdentage eingehen dürfen zu dem Vater des Lichts.
Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtnis-Kirche, Berlin, ca. 1900
A song has died away, the melody of a great human life. And as when the master lowers his violin and everything remains in deep silence, listening to the resonating notes within – that is our mood at the coffin. Above all for you, who, out of the full resonance of this life, have been able to perceive the most beautiful sound: that of the Father’s love. But far beyond the circle of those who were humanly bound to him, far across lands and seas, where there is but one ear and one heart into which a single note of his has ever penetrated, something of this life reverberates.
But now that the great silence has come, into which all living things shall sink, it behooves us to reflect, as before all great realities, so also before this one, on whence it came and what it means to us. And as we survey this human existence, we can hardly help exclaiming: “What a life!” We call happy the good things that seem to fall into our lap — and what would not have befallen him? Nurtured by attentive parents, encouraged by understanding friends, educated in the best schools, he delighted thousands while still a child, and the world at that time called him “a marvelous phenomenon.” And yet, no overwrought Wunderkind — a healthy soul grows in a healthy body. As a young man, he stands on a par with the masters of his art, admired and loved by them without envy. The best of his time become his friends. An art-loving prince solicits his services. A maestra of song joins him as a companion in life. And as the new German Empire begins to emerge, he is called upon to found this high school of music in its capital. His artistic career lasts almost forty years. At an age when the rest of us are still playing in the nursery, he is already serving, a little priest of beauty. In years when most people have long since retired, he performs his duties without a thought of leisure. What the world has to give an artist in the way of laurels, he has reaped. And when the fatal illness comes over him, he may, carried by childlike gratitude, say contentedly: “It is so beautiful to be loved,” and finally pass away without struggle. Truly, an earthly passage reminiscent of the sun’s-orbit of the greatest poet. Shall we say of him: he was a darling of destiny? Or shall we say: he has forged his own life’s happiness? Scarcely would either be true for him. The one would be too little respectful for him, the other too immodest. “Art is holy to me; I could gladly sacrifice my life for it,” he wrote as an eighteen-year-old. He who speaks in this way attributes to himself a nobler source than that of being a product of blind powers or of his own merit. Rather, what he is and can do comes to him as a gift. Good gifts were laid in his cradle, and he developed them to perfection as far as that can be said of a man. “But all good gifts and all perfect gifts,” — he knew it — “come down from above”; let us also say: “from below” — what is the matter with that? The best that we carry within us — what fills us with shivers of awe and love — came from the highest heights to which our thought dizzily ascends — it comes from the deepest depths into which we gaze down in wonder, from where the springs of life flow; it comes — even our departed one has confessed to this — from the “Father of Light” from whom all that is good and beautiful mysteriously radiates.
And because he saw his genius as something that belonged to him and yet did not belong to him, he passed on what was given to him as a matter of self-evident responsibility. Hence the peculiar seriousness about life, which was already agreeably noticeable in the boy and distinguished him from the genial behavior to which so many highly gifted people believe themselves entitled. Truly, one can question which was the greater of what he gave us: his art or his personality. Both are, after all, inseparable. He has admonished us once again what an artist is. To be an artist is not just to be an expert — who was such, if not he? — but being an artist means more: being a whole person who carries a world of his own in his bosom, a world that resounds in sacred chords, and who opens it up to fellow human beings. And again from this followed the selfless objectivity of this artist, who was submerged in his work. Wasn’t it in the magic he repeatedly worked that one thought to hear the tone-poet himself, whose composition he reproduced? One may call that a rare sense of style. It was more than that: it was a moral force at work; indeed, a religious conception of art, over which the words of the Master of Nazareth also hover: “I have not come that I might be served, but that I might serve.” — He who thus sets the whole man to the great cause cannot but deepen his own humanity on all sides. So we are not surprised that this musician also attends the University; that he, a teacher of world renown, still sits learning in the lecture hall. He was convinced: one can never be good enough to call forth something out of yourself. And what was the driving force in him, when he, as a boy, conjured up Beethoven’s soul, straining all his senses with the strings of life amid the breathless silence of thousands; when, as director of this house, he conscientiously attended to sober daily business or educated one generation of pupils after another; when he cultivated Hausmusik in his own intimate circle; when he put his skill at the service of charity?
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.” Yes, call it what you will, this wonderful something, without which even the highest artistry, like all humanity, remains hollow sound; call it: love of the subject, love of the idea — it is, after all, in the deepest essence, love of God.
Therefore: it was a German artist. It is no exaggeration, but only grateful recognition of what has been given to our people from above, when we say: this complete immersion in the inner world is German in character. He had it. Reared on foreign soil, transplanted to German, he also proved that other German gift of grace: to speak to all peoples in an all-comprehending and all-comprehensible way in the world-language of tones.
And he was an educator for art. To the art that does not seek applause or strive for gold; to that innermost art that exists purely for its own sake and simply gives itself without demanding.
It was perhaps from this deeply rooted peculiarity of his nature that his heart was especially attached to the old masters and their immediate successors. What Goethe once brought home from Italy: simplicity and stillness — the classics of German music gave to him. After a short period of wavering, he held on to that forever. Not that he closed himself to new paths. Not that he, Liszt’s compatriot, did not also feel sympathy for this friend. But the line of his inner being ran in a different direction. From the most beloved teacher of his youth, Mendelssohn, he inherited more than the baton: the breath of his spirit. And completely from his soul was the call of the Master of Bayreuth:
“Honor your German masters!
This is how you summon good spirits!
Great things were given to him — good and consummate gifts — greater things gave he back.
Now the one who gave him to us has reclaimed his gift. It is a strange and melancholy thought that the notes which his strings sounded will never again resound through the world with his temperament.
And yet again, a member of Germany’s heroic era passes away. While struggling with the masses for the empire, he founded and ruled his sounding empire here in the capital, and helped to make our people great through German character and art. Here he was the musical conscience for countless people. Now he has followed all the masters who long before him fell silent.
“But, friends, not such sounds of mourning! Rather, let us sing more joyful ones!” There is a law of conservation of energy even in spiritual life. Sounds are waves that continue to flow, producing immeasurable effect, through the ages. And more! In ancient times, when a beloved of God died, people consoled themselves, “When the body has turned to dust, the great name lives on.”
He, who rests here before us, believed in higher things. After Mendelssohn’s death he wrote: “We wish to see to it that we continue to work in his spirit, so that we come ever closer to the sublime goal; so that we can one day stand before our master with a clear conscience.” That is what we hope. And every departure of a personality like this one strengthens us anew in the belief that we, with what light was in us, graced by eternal love, may approach the Father of Light at the end of our days on earth.
Translation: Ⓒ 2021 Robert W. Eshbach. Please acknowledge the source.
Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtnis-Kirche, Berlin, 1906
27 Sunday Jun 2021
Posted Uncategorized
inOpera Performances in Weimar During Joachim’s Tenure as Concertmaster
as Advertised in the Weimarische Zeitung
1850
16. 10. 1850 Donizetti Die Favoritin
22. 10. 1850 Donizetti Lucia von Lammermoor
27. 10. 1850 Mozart Die Zauberflöte (Neu einstudirt)
2. 11. 1850 Flotow Martha
13. 11. 1850 Donizetti Marie, oder: Die Tochter des Regiments
16. 11. 1850 Meyerbeer Robert der Teufel
20. 11. 1850 Donizetti Die Favoritin
24. 11. 1850 Donizetti Marie, oder: Die Tochter des Regiments
26. 11. 1850 Spontini Die Vestalin (Neu einstudirt)
30. 11. 1850 Flotow Stradella
1. 12. 1850 Boieldieu Johann von Paris
7. 12. 1850 Boieldieu Johann von Paris
10. 12. 1850 Boieldieu Johann von Paris
15. 12. 1850 Spontini Die Vestalin
22. 12. 1850 Weber Der Freischütz
26. 12. 1850 Mozart Die Zauberflöte
29. 12. 1850 Kauer Die Saalnixe (Neu einstudirt)
1851
5. 1. 1851 Rossini Othello, der Mohr von Venedig
11. 1. 1851 Bellini Die Familien Capuleti und Montecchi
18. 1. 1851 Rossini Othello, der Mohr von Venedig
25. 1. 1851 Donizetti Marie, oder: Die Tochter des Regiments
1. 2. 1851 Lortzing Czaar und Zimmermann (Zum Erstenmale: Auf höchsten Befehl zum Vortheil der Hinterbliebenen des am 21. Januar 1851 verstorbenen Componisten)
8. 2. 1851 Donizetti Marie, oder: Die Tochter des Regiments
16. 2. 1851 Raff König Alfred (Zum Erstenmale) (not performed)
16. 2. 1851 Wegen Krankheit der Frl. Agthe und Heiserkeit mehrerer Mitglieder anstatt der angekündigten Oper “König Alfred”: Konzert. Unter Direktion und gefälliger Mitwirkung des Hof-Kapellmeisters Dr. F. Liszt (program listed)
2. 3. 1851 Lortzing Czaar und Zimmermann
5. 3. 1851 Donizetti Lukrezia Borgia
9. 3. 1851 Raff König Alfred (Premiere: Raff Cond.)
11. 3. 1851 Raff König Alfred (Wiederholung)
15. 3. 1851 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
19. 3. 1851 Rossini Othello der Mohr von Venedig
23. 3. 1851 Lortzing Zaar und Zimmermann
29. 3. 1851 Donizetti Die Favoritin
1. 4. 1851 Bellini Die Familien Kapuleti und Montecchi
6. 4. 1851 Wagner Lohengrin
12. 4. 1851 Wagner Lohengrin
22. 4. 1851 Mozart Don Juan
30. 4. 1851 Donizetti Die Favoritin
3. 5. 1851 Raff König Alfred [Liszt?]
7. 5. 1851 Beethoven Fidelio
11. 5. 1851 Wagner Lohengrin
18. 5. 1851 Meyerbeer Robert der Teufel
25. 5. 1851 Auber Die Stumme von Portici [Große Oper in fünf Akten]
1. 6. 1851 Auber Fra Diavolo, oder Das Gasthaus in Terracina
9. 6. 1851 Flotow Martha, oder Der Markt von Richmond
14. 6. 1851 Bellini Norma
16. 6. 1851 Auber Die Stumme von Portici
18. 6. 1851 Donizetti Die Favoritin
21. 6. 1851 Mozart Don Juan [Letzte Abonnements-Vorstellung]
28. 6. 1851 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg [Zum Schluß der Bühne]
14. 9. 1852 Play: Goethe Clavigo [Zur Wiedereröffnung der Bühne]
20. 9. 1851 Lortzing Zaar und Zimmermann (not performed)
20. 9. 1851Konzert der Fräul. Dulcken
24, 9. 1851 Bellini Die Familien Capuleti und Montecchi
28. 9. 1851 Spontini Ferdinand Cortez oder Die Eroberung von Mexico
4. 10. 1851 Flotow Martha, oder: Der Markt von Richmond
12. 10. 1851 Spontini Ferdinand Cortez oder Die Eroberung von Mexico
18. 10. 1851 Weber Der Freischütz
26. 10. 1851 Mozart Don Juan
30. 10. 1851 Weigel Die Schweizerfamilie
1. 11. 1851 Spontini Ferdinand Cortez oder Die Eroberung von Mexico
5. 11. 1851 Weber Der Freischütz
16. 11. 1851 Flotow Stradella
23. 11. 1851 Herold Zampa, oder Die Marmorbraut
26. 11. 1851 Herold Zampa, oder Die Marmorbraut
30. 11. 1851 Bellini Norma
3. 12. 1851 Bellini Die Familien Kapuleti und Montecchi
7. 12. 1851 Herold Zampa, oder Die Marmorbraut substituted for Donizetti Lukrezia Borgia
10. 12. 1851 Donizetti Lukrezia Borgia
14. 12. 1851 Weber Preziosa
21. 12. 1851 Lortzing Zaar und Zimmermann
25. 12. 1851 Mozart Die Zauberflöte
29. 12. 1851 Mozart Don Juan
1852
4.1.1852 Mozart Die Zauberflöte
11. 1. 1852 Wagner Lohengrin
18. 1. 1852 Boieldieu Johann von Paris
24. 1. 1852 Wagner Lohengrin
26. 1. 1852 Donizetti Marie, oder: Die Tochter des Regiments
28. 1. 1852 Rossini Der Barbier von Sevilla
31. 1. 1852 Flotow Martha, oder: Der Markt von Richmond [Special guest appearance by Henriette Sonntag]
7. 2. 1852 Meyerbeer Die Hugonotten [4th act, together with ballet performance]
15. 2. 1852 Donizetti Der Liebestrank
22. 2. 1852 Donizetti Der Liebestrank
28. 2. 1852 Weber Preciosa
29. 2. 1852 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
7. 3. 1852 Weber Der Freischütz
14. 3. 1852 Flotow Stradella
20. 3. 1852 Berlioz Benvenuto Cellini [Zum Erstenmale]
24. 3. 1852 Berlioz Benvenuto Cellini
28. 3. 1852 Lortzing Zaar und Zimmermann
4. 4. 1852 Konzert der Großherzogl. Hofkapelle im Hoftheater zum Besten des Pensionsfonds für die Witwen und Waisen verstorbener Hofkapellmitglieder.
17. 4. 1852 Berlioz Benvenuto Cellini
25. 4. 1852 Mozart Die Hochzeit des Figaro
2. 5. 1852 Kauer Die Saalnixe 1. Theil
9. 5. 1852 Kauer Die Saalnixe 1. Theil
15. 5. 1852 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
29. 5. 1852 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
31. 5. 1852 Flotow Stradella
1. 6. 1852 Lortzing Zaar und Zimmermann
3. 6. 1852 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
5. 6. 1852 Wagner Lohengrin
13. 6. 1852 Schumann Manfred [Zum Erstenmale]
15. 6. 1852 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
17. 6. 1852 Schumann Manfred
19. 6. 1852 Wagner Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg
12. 9. 1852 Verdi Hernani [Zur Wiedereröffnung der Buhne: Zum Erstenmale]
19. 9. 1852 Verdi Hernani
26. 9. 1852 Mehul Jacob und seine Söhne
2. 10. 1852 Wagner Lohengrin
7. 10. 1852 Mehul Jacob und seine Söhne
13. 10. 1852 Donizetti Die Favoritin
16. 10. 1852 Donizetti Die Favoritin
24. 10. 1852 Spohr Faust [Zum Erstenmale]
27. 10. 1852 Spohr Faust
31. 10. 1852 Bellini Norma
7. 11. 1852 Flotow Martha, oder Der Markt von Richmond
14. 11. 1852 Spohr Faust
17. 11. 1852 Berlioz Benvenuto Cellini
Statistics
Auber Die Stumme von Portici (2)
Fra Diavolo, oder Das Gasthaus in Terracina
Beethoven Fidelio
Bellini Die Familien Capuleti und Montecchi (4)
Die Nachtwandlerin
Norma (4)
Berlioz Benvenuto Cellini (5)
Boieldieu Johann von Paris (4)
Donizetti Der Liebestrank (2)
Die Favoritin (7)
Lucia von Lammermoor
Lukrezia Borgia (2)
Marie, oder: Die Tochter des Regiments (5)
Flotow Martha, oder Der Markt von Richmond (5)
Stradella (4)
Herold Zampa, oder Die Marmorbraut (3)
Kauer Die Saalnixe (1) plus 2 x 1. Theil
Lortzing Czaar und Zimmermann (7)
Mehul Jacob und seine Söhne (2)
Meyerbeer Meyerbeer Die Hugonotten [4th act]
Robert der Teufel (2)
Mozart Die Hochzeit des Figaro
Don Juan (4)
Die Zauberflöte (4)
Raff König Alfred 3
Rossini Othello, der Mohr von Venedig (3)
Der Barbier von Sevilla
Schumann Manfred (2)
Spohr Faust (3)
Spontini Die Vestalin (2)
Ferdinand Cortez oder Die Eroberung von Mexico (3)
Verdi Hernani (2)
Wagner Lohengrin (8)
Tannhäuser und der Sängerkrieg auf Wartburg (10)
Weber Der Freischütz (4)
Preziosa (2)
Weigel Die Schweizerfamilie
= 117 performances of 37 different operas between 16. 10. 1850 and 30. 12. 1852.